#also the veil attached to the hat just makes sense to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phykios · 3 years

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this one is dedicated to mi amor mari @perseannabeth, who is a beautiful bird and a wonderful friend and i am v v vvvvv grateful to have crossed the airwaves with her :”)

Today Was A Fairytale [read on ao3] T, modern royalty, fun at disneyland!

She stares at him.

He stares back. “What?”

“Really?”

“What?”

“You really think this is going to be enough?” Annabeth points at her head, the blue Yankees cap squishing her curls.

“Of course! It’s the Clark Kent effect.” As if to underline his point, Percy slips on his fake hipster glasses, except that stupid grin of his is too bright not to draw attention.

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Sure it is. Studies show that glasses are actually good enough to alter your appearance if someone doesn’t know you well.”

“Then why didn’t you bring a pair of glasses for me?”

“Because your hair is definitely the prettiest thing about you,” he says, automatically tugging an unruly curl which peeks out from under the brim, a gesture so practiced she almost doesn’t register it--until he blinks, dropping his hand, blushing lightly. “I mean--the most noticeable thing. You know. A hat should be fine.”

He looks away. Heat rises to her face, too. Because it’s so hot out, obviously.

“Anyway,” he mumbles, “um. No--no one’s going to give you a second look if your hair is hidden.”

Chewing her lip, Annabeth can’t help but worry. Percy’s face is extremely well-known, possibly more than hers, and they’ve both spent the better part of three weeks with their faces plastered all over the media on their diplomatic trip. This is probably a really, really bad idea. Then, a thought occurs to her. “How about,” she says, perking up, “you give me your glasses, and I’ll give you mine.” From her backpack, she fishes out a pair of sunglasses, big and nondescript. He’ll practically be wearing a superhero mask with these.

Percy smiles again, and Annabeth thinks she might fly. “Perfect.”

Which is how Her Royal Highness Anna Elisabeth Ingrid Irene of Sweden and His Serene Highness Perseus Alexandros Ioannis of Thera play hooky from their day of boring meetings, insufferable dignitaries, and stuffy security guards, to go see the eighth wonder of the world: Disneyland Resort in California.

And how Annabeth eats her words as they make it past the security gate unchecked. “Eh?” He beams, nudging her with his elbow. “Eh?”

Rolling her eyes, she shoves him back. “Shut up.”

***

[description: a tiktok video which depicts a line at Disneyland. the op, a black girl with braids, covers her mouth and looking into the camera, turning the camera to focus on the two people behind her. one is a tall boy with black hair and sunglasses, and the other is a blonde girl with a yankees hat and glasses. both are white. video text reads: “p sure the people behind me are prince percy and princess annabeth??? um?????”. background audio is a dubstep remix of the fight theme from undertale. end ID]

***

Maybe it’s a little weird, on account of her being actual royalty and all, but Annabeth has always been interested in princesses, both as a matter of historical record (history is awesome) and in the general sense. Like millions of other people, she, too, was raised on Disney movies and tales of princesses and true love, and she was just as captivated as the rest of them. She and Percy used to watch the Disney catalogue whenever their families held state visits for each other, staying up into the small hours of the morning, sharing some popcorn and singing along.

Luckily for Annabeth, her favorite princess is holding a meet and greet at the Royal Hall.

“Excuse me,” Percy says, approaching Princess Ariel. Well, her cast member, anyway. “Could I get a photo for my friend?”

“Of course!” she trills, her blue eyes sparkling. “It would be my pleasure.” Holding her hand out, perfectly poised and graceful in a way that would impress even Annabeth’s stodgy etiquette instructor, she smiles, warm and welcoming, pivoting to bring Annabeth in for one of those weird, semi-awkward half-hugs. “What’s your name?”

“Anna,” says Annabeth. Hey, it’s not untrue. She’s a little leery of using any of her names, but Anna is common enough. Annabeth? Not so much. Even with her glasses and hat disguise, a little paranoia is justified, she thinks.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Anna,” she says, cheerful, with all the grace and charm of someone who doesn’t spend hours saying the same thing over and over again to excitable, temperamental children. What a trooper, she thinks.

“Don’t you recognize a fellow princess when you see one, your highness?” Percy says, grinning that stupid, smarmy grin of his.

Annabeth glares. Oh, he thinks he’s so damn clever.

“Oh, of course,” says Ariel, smoothly. “How could I have thought otherwise? Your highness.” And she curtsies to Annabeth, a short dip, her hand placed delicately against her chest. “Perhaps I can introduce you to my friend Anna, princess of Arendelle?”

Still smirking, Percy takes some more pictures, trapping Annabeth into smiling for the camera. She can’t be glaring daggers in her pictures, nor can there be video evidence of her kicking him--no matter how much she wants to.

And she definitely doesn’t miss the way Ariel not-so-subtly checks Percy out, eyeing him up and down.

“You fucking asshole,” she hisses as they leave the photo area, swatting him lightly, and he giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Ugh, I hate you so much.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him, though she definitely tries as they enter back out into the park proper, giving him just the barest hint of a cold shoulder.

“Aw, come on,” Percy says. “I was just teasing.”

“You shouldn’t go around tempting fate like that,” Annabeth says. “Do you want to cause another international incident?”

Percy winces, no doubt remembering the Gateway Arch incident of 2008.

“If someone recognizes us, we don’t have Zoe or any of her team to protect us,” Annabeth goes on. “Not that I think anyone here would try to hurt us, but…” But it’s a little nerve-wracking, being on her own like this. She hasn’t been alone like this for a really long time.

Wincing, Percy rubs the back of his head. “I guess I forgot you��re a little higher profile than me. Sorry.”

She doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s true. Percy, by his nature as the younger son of a largely defunct royal house, doesn’t have quite the same number of… issues… that someone like Annabeth might have.

Deflating, she uncrosses her arms. “It’s okay.”

“I should have asked you first.”

“It’s really okay,” she says. “No harm no foul.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks, entirely serious. “I can call someone up.”

She knows just how long they’ve planned this, how many favors he’s called in and policies he’s sidestepped. Backing out now would just be a waste of a day. She shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says. “I’m just… feeling a little exposed, I guess. But, I don’t want to ruin all our plans. Let’s keep going.” She grabs his hand, squeezing a little.

“...Okay,” Percy says. “But say the word, and we’ll call it a day. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Like he doesn’t have any other expression today, he smiles at her again.

It hits her, suddenly. He’s so much taller than she remembers. Once upon a time she used to be taller than him; now, he’s basically a whole head above her.

It’s annoying. But also… not.

Spying something over her shoulder, his eyes light up, and he practically gasps. “Cinderella!” he points with his free hand, like a five-year old. “Come on!” And he takes off to one of the park corners, dragging Annabeth along with him.

He has to wait in line behind a pair of twin girls, six or seven years old by the looks of it, in identical Cinderella dresses for a photo, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, and when it’s finally his turn, he nearly trips over himself to go up and ask for a photo.

Cinderella agrees, and now Annabeth is relegated to the job of cameraperson. Percy slides in next to the princess, his hand on her waist, but, ever the respectful gentleman, loosely held, so the cast member can slide out of his grasp without any difficulty at all.

Taking a few shots, it does look kind of strange to have Cinderella’s beautiful, shining face, and Percy’s enormous sunglasses blocking his. “Take off your glasses?” she says, lowering her phone for a second.

Dutifully, Percy slips them off, smiling again for the camera.

Cinderella’s smile doesn’t falter, a credit to her professionalism, but Annabeth can see her eyes widen, just a touch.

Annabeth snaps off a few more photos, “Got ‘em!” and Percy once again gushes over the princess, thanking her for her time. Grabbing Annabeth’s hand again, he practically skips off, leading them in the direction of a nearby candy shop.

***

me: IM SHAKING GUESS WHO I JUST TOOK A PICTURE WITH????

sis: prince percy?

me: HOW TF DID YOU KNOW

sis: its on twitter already

***

They’re walking along, Annabeth slurping up a Dole whip, when she suddenly stops in her tracks, outside of one of the many, many gift shops. “Wait up a second.”

“Hm?” Percy says, around the giant lollipop in his mouth.

“I want to get some Mickey ears.”

Very quickly they get lost in the sea of Disney merchandise, walking the labyrinth of Star Wars and Marvel and Pixar goods. There’s a surprising amount of black for the so-called happiest place on Earth, but things do brighten up when Annabeth finally turns a corner and finds the enormous selection of Mickey ears. It’s a wash of sparkles, flowers, bows, and occasionally characters, for children and adults alike. Annabeth eyes a pair designed like Baby Yoda, eyes wide and ears adorably huge, before she fingers a pair of white Mickey ears that have a bridal veil attached to them, contemplating its counterpart, the black ears for the groom, each ear emblazoned with a sparkling silver “Happily Ever After.”

She looks around. Where did Percy wander off to, anyway?

Well, wherever he is, hopefully he hasn’t gotten mobbed by a horde of excitable fangirls. Given that she can’t hear any screaming--well, any unusual, non-Disneyland-relevant screaming--that’s probably a good sign.

Running her fingers over the ear selections, she finally picks out a pair of silver sequined earrings with a shiny gold bow, a tiny, rhinestone Cinderella’s castle placed delicately in the middle.

Yeah. This one.

Percy finds her as she is paying for her ears, a pair of his own already on his head, red balloons inside of plastic circles. The sunglasses, she notes with a tinge of nervousness, are tucked in his shirt, and not on his face, protecting his identity. “Oh, check mine out--they light up!” he says, giddy, pressing the button on the side, not that she can tell in the brightly lit shop.

“That’s not why I was looking.”

Walking out of the store, ears firmly in her possession, she looks around again. Percy’s face is out there for the world to see, and no one is giving them a hard time.

And her hat is really sweaty.

Ah, fuck it.

She removes the Yankees cap, shaking out her sweaty curls, sliding the ears on in its place.

And the glasses, for good measure.

“Cinderella?” Percy asks.

“I thought you’d approve.”

Outside the shop, next to a corn dog cart, Percy pulls her aside, out of the way of a whole classroom’s worth of children, holding up a plastic plag. “So, confession.”

“Percy…” He didn’t. “We said no gifts!” They had agreed to it that morning!

“Well, see,” he says, fumbling around in the bag, pulling out a black t-shirt. “I saw this, and I thought--I thought you might like it.”

He unfolds it, and Annabeth frowns at the shirt design.

It’s… a drawing of a man in a purple mask against a solid black background, glaring at the viewer. Circling him, in distressed, white-grey military font, are the words “BARON ZEMO,” and the logo for the show he must star in, Marvel’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. She doesn’t really watch superhero shows, though, and she’s pretty sure Percy doesn’t, either. Maybe he’s started this one and he really likes it? “Thanks,” she says, confusion coloring her voice despite her best efforts.

But he doesn’t look too disappointed. “I was looking through their pride merch, and they didn’t have any stuff with the ace flag, which totally sucks, but then I thought that maybe you might like something a little more subtle? So, yeah.” He shakes it. “Ace pride!”

Oh. Oh, this boy.

She remembers, so vividly, visiting his father’s summer home on Kalymnos, a few years ago, the summer she turned nineteen, waking up to a banging in the kitchen, noisy pots and pans making a real racket. Granted, it had been one in the afternoon, and Annabeth probably should have been awake sooner, but she had stumbled out of the guest room into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, to the sight of Percy wrestling with the standmixer, making bright, neon purple frosting. The night before, sometime around three or four AM, that weird, liminal hour where the shadow of night just starts to recede, the sky a sweet, soft, dusky blue, she had come out as demisexual to her best friend, saying the words aloud for the first time ever. Loopy from lack of sleep, the moment had passed without much fanfare.

But Percy, dark-circled and still yawning, had woken up early to make her a chocolate cake. By the time she had woken up, he had baked the cake, chilled it, and made two out of the three frosting colors, a beautiful, moist, dark chocolate cake which ended up being frosted with a marbled mix of purple, black, and white, all folding into each other into a kind of colorless, grey sugar.

Here, now, in Disneyland, she throws herself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck. His arms automatically come up to circle her, hugging her tight.

She had been worried it had been some kind of defense mechanism. A young girl with an alarmingly high profile, Annabeth had been the subject of intense scrutiny with regards to any romantic entanglements, with critics, tabloid reporters, and fans alike attempting to invent gossip-worthy relationships with every boy she ever talked to--most usually Percy. They did grow up in the public eye together, attending all kinds of events and functions together over the last fifteen or so years. And they did tweet at each other. Like, a lot. They even had their own portmanteau hashtag. But no relationship ever materialized.

She thought maybe she was just being stubborn, unwilling to play the media game. But it hadn’t been stubbornness. It wasn’t about shyness or inexperience. It was real, and it was her.

And Percy hadn’t even blinked.

“I love it,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, swaying her from side to side, just a little. “It was my pleasure.”

***

What’s happening: #percabeth (Entertainment • trending)

@kndrck__ STREAM CHROMATICA: um @TheraUS @SwedenRoyals i think i found your sick royals? #percabeth #disneyland

@wasabiviking: omg werent they supposed to be at some hospital opening today #percabeth

@ChampionSno brando he/him: LMAOOO NOT #PERCABETH PLAYING HOOKY LIKE IT’S ROMAN HOLIDAY

***

“Holy shit,” Percy moans, his mouth full of food. “Oh my God. Dear God in Heaven.”

Annabeth kicks his ankle under the table. “Don’t be rude.”

He swallows, eyes fluttering. “Oh my God, Annabeth. Holy shit. This is the best damn sandwich I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“A monte cristo?”

“A deep-fried monte cristo! In sweet batter!” Taking another bite, he moans again, just this side of indecent. “Oh my God I love Americans. They are absolute culinary geniuses.”

“Better than Bistrot Chez Rémy?” They had both been to Disneyland Paris, separately, sadly, and Percy had recommended the restaurant to her with great enthusiasm for her upcoming trip. As usual, he was spot on with his food recs.

He nods, eyes closed in rapture. “By a mile.”

“You’ll have to learn to make your own when we get back home, then.”

He jolts, straightening up, cheeks full of food. Roughly, he swallows. “You’re right! I need to take notes.” And he takes out his phone, hurriedly typing down whatever scent and flavor notes he must be able to discern. “This is definitely challah…”

Plucking another piece of chicken with her fork out of her jambalaya, Annabeth lets her attention wander a little, content to watch the passengers on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride as they float on beside them, down in the artificially constructed bayou river.

Truth be told, she’s kind of tired. They’ve been walking around all day, and even with the brief reprieve of rides, her shoes really aren’t the kind that deal well with huge amounts of walking. She can already tell that she’s going to crash, and crash hard, whenever they get back to their hotel. You know, if their security detail doesn’t eviscerate them first.

When Percy had first presented his idea to her, she had agreed without hesitation. They had had a long, dense schedule of public appearances planned for their excursions to the states, and the days had begun to seriously wear them out. Together, they had worked out the kinks, coming up with contingencies, negotiating things to do, all over Discord so no one else would get wind of what they were doing. Prior to this trip, she hadn’t seen him in… probably almost a year. She knows his father had been keeping him close to home for whatever reason, and Annabeth had had a handful of official functions to deal with. Their paths just never managed to cross, up until now.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him.

It’s lonely, growing up in the public eye. It’s cliche, but it’s true. And while Annabeth is afforded a metric ton of various intersecting privileges, she thinks she’d probably give it up in a heartbeat. It kind of sucks being a living, breathing tourist attraction.

Growing up, she had her cousin Magnus, and a handful of other assorted children to play with, but she would never say that she had a best friend, or even a good friend, until she’d met Percy. Her mother and his father, famous for their mutual dislike, had put aside their differences to host some kind of charitable dinner for the disgustingly wealthy, and had trotted out their respective children in all their finery. Annabeth, being all of twelve years old, hadn’t really grasped the gravity of the event, and had gotten into an itty bitty little food fight with the then-unknown Prince Perseus, the result of an extramarital affair whom his father had so graciously decided to acknowledge and adopt.

After that night, they became fast friends, and she decided that, if she ever left the royal life, she’d make sure to take Percy with her. He’s one of the few things that makes her life bearable.

She thinks about it, sometimes. Renouncing her title. It wouldn’t exactly be hard. There was Magnus, just in line behind her. And it’s not like her family held any executive power anyway. They’re just fancy, historically interesting celebrities.

Would Percy give up his, she wonders?

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

He looks at her oddly over their dessert, two vanilla-bourbon creme brulees. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just tired. Long day.”

“You want to call it a night?”

She frowns. “What’s left?”

“Well, we did Space Mountain, Rise of the Resistance, Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, a few others,” he counts off his fingers, “saw the princesses, got Mickey ears, ate at Blue Bayou… I guess all that’s left is walking around the pier, if you want.”

“Sounds like you two had a full day.”

As one, they almost leap out of their seats, Annabeth choking on her spit. “Jesus, Zoe,” Percy pants, his hand over his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh?” says Zoe Nightshade, the head of their security detail, who had just apparently materialized out of thin air. “Funny. I could say the same about you, sir.”

Coughing, Annabeth eventually manages to get her air back. “Hey, Zoe,” she wheezes. “How was your day?”

“Eventful. Let me tell you about it in the car.”

Annabeth glances at Percy, who’s looking a little bit like a deer in headlights. Honestly, she’s surprised they even made it this far without one of their own tracking them down. Still, it looks like their game is up.

...Or is it?

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a large tour group, approaching on the horizon.

“Sure,” Annabeth says, getting up. Luckily, they’ve already paid, so they can just head out; they don’t need to wait for another big group of people to cross their paths. “Will you let us go to the bathroom, first?”

Zoe squints. She’s always been able to see through Annabeth’s bullshit. But Annabeth has her best, Percy-patented baby seal eyes on, perfectly innocent. Surely, Zoe wouldn’t deny them a physical need such as relieving themselves?

After a moment, she nods. “Make it quick, if you please.”

“Of course,” Annabeth says, looking over at Percy, hoping he gets the message. He stands up, slow and stiff, eyes darting between the two of them. “We’ll be right back.”

They wander through tables and chairs towards the bathroom, her eyes always on the tour group as it just starts to pass by. Reaching out, Annabeth grabs Percy’s hand, and with a turn that would make her track coach proud, sprints out of the restaurant, using the throng of people as cover.

She thinks she hears Zoe yelling behind them, but maybe it’s just her own laughter. “Come on!” she shrieks, breathless, as Percy’s long legs keep pace with her. “To California Adventure!”

***

darthbingus said: the monarchy are fucking parasites but percabeth is pretty cute i guess :/

ladyofsandwiches reblogged and said: it’s obviously a publicity thing lmao, also prince Percy is gay???

eowynning reblogged and said: he’s dating rachel dare, right? he can’t be gay

ladyofsandwiches reblogged and said: That was a publicity thing too obvs, and Annabeth hasn’t ever been linked to a guy. The king of thera is hardline greek orthodox, there’s no way he’d let his son come out publicly. They’re both gay and pretending to date because homophobia

lardoftheprks reblogged and said: people can be bi and ace and pan and all sorts of things you know

batgirlcock reblogged and said: can you animals leave them alone fr

***

Zoe only spots them after the ferris wheel starts moving. Sprinting over to them, they’re still a full forty feet off the ground by the time she reaches the operator. “Sorry!” she yells down to her, hands cupping her mouth. “We’ll be down in ten minutes!”

“Ananbeth!” he chokes, giggles still escaping him.

“What?” she laughs.

“We’re in enough trouble as it is!”

“Exactly,” she says, settling back on the ride. “You’ll probably be grounded for life.”

“Me?” he squawks, playfully offended. “What about you?”

She scoffs. “Please. I’ll just pin it all on you.”

Leaning back, he pouts, arms crossed. “Wow. I plan this amazing day, violate a few embassorial rules, and probably put both of our countries on a massive red alert, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I helped plan it, too.” But he does have a point. “Thank you,” she says. “I had a lot of fun today.”

He turns his head to her, a grin stretching across his face. “Me too.”

His voice is so soft, so fond. They share a look, a moment, no words between them, only the silence of a true, deep companionship. They don’t need to say anything else, because they already know what the other would say.

As one, they break away, looking back out into the California evening.

They don’t talk much as the ferris wheel climbs higher and higher. Honestly, Annabeth is kind of impressed with how well he’s handling himself--she knows heights are a bit of a weakness of his. He grabs the edges of their gondola every once in a while as it drops a few feet, knuckles white and face a little green, but he manages to keep his dinner down, even as the ferris wheel grinds to a halt, Percy and Annabeth at the top of the world. The swing back and forth a little, hot faces against the cool evening breeze.

And they stay there.

And stay there.

And… stay there.

Annabeth checks her watch. How long have they been up here?

Percy taps his feet, a little too frantic just to be ADHD.

Finally, there’s a burst of noise from below them, garbled and static. “Uh, yes, excuse me--” the voice says, amplified through a megaphone. “Yeah, um, it appears we are having some… uh, technical difficulties with the Pixar Pal-A-Round. Please remain calm, as we have our best technicians on it, and we are working on evacuating the ride in a calm and efficient manner.” Then the voice cuts out.

Annabeth glances towards Percy. He has his hands in his lap, fists clenching and unclenching, over and over again. “Uh… you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, sure,” Percy says, “just fine. Peachy keen.” He squeezes his eyes shut, slowly blowing out his breath through his mouth.

“Hey.” She reaches over, and takes one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. After a long day of holding hands, somehow it still manages to surprise her, how well they fit together, how her skin tingles as she rubs her thumb against his finger. “It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna be just fine. They’re going to get us off this ride, and then we’ll fly home and be grounded for life.”

“I thought,” he wheezes, “you’d blame it all on me?”

“As if you could come up with a plan as genius as hiding from our guard in It's A Small World.”

He nods, shakily. “Right. All you. Definitely not my idea. Everyone knows I’d have looped back to Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Definitely.” She squeezes his hand, scooting a little closer. “Just breathe with me a little, okay?”

They breathe together, slowly and evenly. At some point, Percy takes her hand in both of his, running his thumbs over her palm, tracing her lifelines like a map. His hands are big, and warm, and it seems to calm him down a little, so she doesn’t mind all that much.

Twilight darkens, stars twinkling against the grey, dusky sky, and still they are holding hands. Eventually, Percy relaxes, slumping against his seat.

“You good?”

He nods. He still doesn’t let go. “Yeah. Just…” he sighs, stretching his arms up, taking Annabeth’s hand with him. “Not super looking forward to the dressing down I’m going to get.”

She winces. Annabeth’s dad is a little more flexible than Percy’s when it comes to breaches of protocol. The king of Thera is somewhat famous for his paranoia. “I hope it was worth it.”

He whips his head to her, eyes wide. “Of course it was worth it!” he says, as though the opposite were even fathomable. “You kidding? This was the best day of my life.”

“Better than your sixteenth?” His father had officially acknowledged him that day. Annabeth had spotted him in a deserted hallway with his mother, the two of them fighting off a few happy tears. She knows just how special that day was for him.

“Not even close.” Squeezing her hand, he smiles again, that smile she knows almost better than her own by now. That smile she grew up with, a quiet oasis in a whirlwind of ancient tradition and modern media coverage. That smile is safety, familiarity. That smile was there to greet her when her mother chose to leave her family, when her uncle died without heirs, thrusting the position of heiress on her, whenever she had a rotten day or a bad grade or a lonely night, just on the other end of a phone, or down the hall, or in the kitchen.

Whatever happens, she knows, Percy will be her best friend. Her anchor.

Her…

She swallows. “Thank you,” she says again. “I needed this.” A day without an agenda. A day just for them.

His eyes are dark, and soft, like the water beneath them. One hundred and fifty feet in the air in a broken ferris wheel, there’s nowhere safer she can be. “Me too.”

So she’s not really surprised at herself when she says, “I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Eyes widening, just a hair, he opens his mouth, momentarily speechless. “You--are you sure?”

She nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Cool. Uh, me too.”

“Cool.”

Neither of them move.

“So, do--do you want to--”

Annabeth leans in, her other hand cupping his cheek, and kisses him.

His lips are soft. His mouth tastes like vanilla and bourbon. They are trapped in a metal box, one hundred and fifty feet off the ground, about to get the punishment of their lives when they get down, and it is absolutely, utterly perfect.

And when Annabeth pulls back, there are fireworks.

Quite literally.

Percy’s face glows with pink and green and purple, and a little fire in his eyes that’s all him. The pops of the fireworks, loud and brassy, and muted, completely overshadowed by the pounding of her heart in her chest.

They rest their heads against each other, breathing each other’s air, quiet and intimate, the calm before the storm that is surely coming. But that’s fine. Let it come, she thinks. She’ll be safe with Percy.

When the park technicians eventually get the ferris wheel moving again, Percy and Annabeth disembark from the gondola like nothing’s even gone wrong, waving to the crowd of people, fans, and reporters alike, who have swarmed the pier, phones and cameras held aloft in a constellation of light, before being quickly hurried away by Zoe and her crew, ushered to the end of the pier where Annabeth’s embassy’s car is waiting.

Percy doesn’t let go of her hand once.

***

KALYMNOS, GREECE--Prince Percy has arrived on the island for his family’s annual summer retreat, bringing his girlfriend, Princess Annabeth of Sweden, with him for the fifth year in a row, and the third as his official partner. Lifelong friends, the couple were most recently seen at Disneyland Tokyo, continuing something of a tradition for the two royals where they visit Disneyland parks across the globe. Our sources inside the castle are hinting that the family is planning something big this year. Could we see a proposal by the end of summer? Be sure to subscribe for more updates!

#pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #my fic #au #perseannabeth #the rivalry ends here #will i ever stop writing modern royalty aus? no 💖#also look mari i even used a taylor swift song

138 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Note

I know you’re probably drowning in raven requests but I love your adorable bird daughter too much so here goes, how about a snippet where raven joins the remaining night raven squad in rescuing the kidnapped students from the mirror dimension, and while walking with rook she runs into Jade so the two of them work together to snap him back to his senses (you can wait till the Halloween event releases in full so as to avoid spoilers)

I believe this request came to me before the full release of Endless Halloween Night (when the characters were shown to be divided into their respective groups).

Since Rook is part of this year’s SSR trio, I’m going to write Raven going with him, Sebek, and Trey instead of Riddle, Ruggie, and Ortho (which is the actual group that finds Jade)! ^^ I also shifted the focus to be less about the battling and more about the search.

Imagine this...

Raven’s eyes were spinning.

Up and down and all around she had trekked for the past... who knew how long? The spiraling, winding staircases never seemed to end, greyscale and sprawling in all directions. It started to look the same after a while, and she had to keep looking up to make sure that she hadn’t strayed from the group or come close to falling off the edge.

“Watch your step there. It’s steep,” Trey called over his shoulder. He was at the bottom of the staircase ahead of her, peering up from the brim of his top hat and tattered veil. “We’ll wait for you to catch up, so take it slow. It’s no trouble.”

“HMPH! Speak for yourself!” a thunderous voice retorted. The bright colors Sebek sported did not match the frightening expression upon his face. He roared again, setting the peacock feather attached to his headwear trembling. “For every second that we waste dawdling, it is a second that the Young Master may be suffering at the hands of his mysterious kidnapper! We cannot afford to be so lax with our search!!”

“I understand being worried, but rushing won’t help us either.” Trey frowned, staying rational in spite of Sebek’s hollering. “I don’t want to deal with the paperwork if a student gets hurt or goes missing under my watch, so we need to avoid those outcomes if we can.”

“There is a simple solution to that: let Rook-senpai file the necessary paperwork in your stead!”

“It’s reassuring to know that you both care so much about my wellbeing,” Raven grumbled. She slowly descended the steps, arms out to maintain her balance.

“Fufu. Monsieur Crocodile and Chevalier des Roses certainly have their unique ways of expressing themselves!” Rook cried with a flourish of his cape. He was far ahead of her, capping off the other end of their party—serving as their leader and guide in the labyrinthine space—yet somehow he had perfectly heard her mumbling.

“Unique or no, it matters not if we are burdened with an individual that is unable to contribute anything worthwhile to our efforts!” Sebek tossed a pointed glare at Raven. “At the very LEAST, you could make like a bird and scout this area for any clues!”

“I can’t just change my form on a whim,” she protested, doing her best to stare daggers back at the hulking student (and doing a terrible job at it). “It’s not that easy.”

Rook nodded. “Transformation magic may be child’s play for Roi du Dragon, but the same cannot be said of all magicians.”

Sebek scoffed and turned away with a dismissive cock of his head. “Then she may as well just be leeching off of the goodwill of everyone else here! At least the rest of us were able to pull our weight in combat. It would have been better for us all if she hadn’t insisted on following us on this rescue mission!”

His words may as well have been a rain of swords striking her heart. Pointed, with sharp edges that bit and bit and, when, at last, they had cleanly pierced through her everything, left ribbons of blood and guilt in their wake.

You aren’t needed here.

Raven staggered back and shrunk into herself. She clutched her hands to her chest, head inclined downward and bangs hiding her watery eyes.

“Hey, I don’t know if I’d go that far. Having one more member does help us each from building up blot as fast, even if it’s just a little bit,” Trey pointed out. If she starts crying, it’ll slow us down even more, and then Sebek will get more upset... The first years are turning out to be a lot of trouble. “Let’s try to calm down and—”

“I...!! I want to to save everyone, too!!” Raven suddenly shouted, raising her gaze to challenge Sebek’s. “Wh-Who died and make you king?! Who are you to tell me where I can and can’t go, and what I can and can’t do?!”

“WHAT WAS THAT, YOU INSOLENT BIRD?! Do not claim to be on morally superior ground!!”

“Yeah, and you have a leg to stand on? I’m...” She swallowed hard. “I’m allowed to want to help!!”

Oh, brother. Trey buried his face in his hands as his juniors launched into a squabble. “Rook? A little help here...?”

No sooner had the words left his lips when a streak of black, violet, and crimson rushed by him. Trey felt a hand grab his wrist and yank him forward, thrusting him before Sebek. Another flash of vampy colors—and Raven vanished behind a cloak.

“Uh...?” Confusion smeared on his features, Trey glanced over at his fellow Vice Dorm Leader. “Okay, I guess this works?”

“What the...?! Get back here! I WASN’T DONE VERBALLY DECIMATING YOU YET!! LOOK ME IN THE EYE, COWARD!” Sebek bellowed, shaking a fist at the bird. Raven peered over the cape and glared at the Diasomnia student. Rook smiled, slipping a gloved hand over her eyes.

Trey groaned, moving to block Sebek’s line of sight. “Give it a rest, the both of you. You’re being immature. At this rate, you’re going to wake up the entire realm of the dead.”

“GOOD! Let them come. I shall defeat anyone that stands in the way of my mission to retrieve the Young Master!”

“I do not believe that would be a wise move on our end,” Rook interjected. “If we are overrun with ghosts, how will we ever return to our world? No matter how mighty one man is, our mana supply is limited. We may very well collapse from exhaustion on the route back if we do not carefully conserve our magic.”

Sebek stopped, looking aghast. His mouth opened and closed on instinct, but no words came out.

“... Point taken. I would not wish to overexert myself during the search. Energy must be conserved for the trip back as well.” Sebek clenched a fist. “Grrkgh!! How foolish I was to think otherwise...!”

If you had thought of that earlier, we could have avoided all of this... Trey waved a hand. “Er, never mind that. Let’s put it behind us and try to focus on looking for people.”

“YES!!”

“... How are you feeling?” Rook asked in a whisper, slowly removing his hand from Raven’s eyes. He kept one arm up, providing the curtain that shielded her from view.

“I could be better. My ears are ringing, and I feel like I was a witness to things that I should not have been privy to today.” The memory of Rook and Sebek belting out opera lyrics while she and Trey stood and stared and the memory of Sebek planting a hand on Rook’s chest to feel his heartbeat again, while she and Trey stood and stared were still going strong in her mind.

“We never truly know what life may throw our way!” A mysterious smile was on Rook’s lips. “Think of it as a one grand adventure, where we stop to smell the roses along the path!”

“Yeah.” Raven cradled herself, her eyes falling to the ground. “I guess.”

“... Mon petit oiseau. You’re frightened, aren’t you? I can feel you shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind.”

“You’ve got me.” Raven gave a shaky laugh. “This is why I wanted to be the last in line. You always figure me out right away.”

“There is no shame to be had in your feelings. It is only natural to be apprehensive when presented with an uncertain situation—but you should also feel proud. You chose to venture into the unknown to rescue your friends, despite your fear. You are every bit a hero as anyone else here.”

Raven looked doubtful. “I don’t care what happens to me, I just want everyone else to be okay.”

But most of all, I hope that he’s okay.

“As do I—but you mustn’t speak that way. All lives are precious, from the tiniest amoeba to the very ghosts that wander this world. And that includes your own. First and foremost, you must look after yourself before you can begin to worry about others.”

She didn’t say anything more.

“... Come here.” Rook scooted a bit closer, hugging his shoulder against hers. Warmth diffused between the two of them, like a candle wick sharing its flame with another. “We’ll bring them all back and put an end to this endless Halloween night. I’m certain of it.”

She stifled a giggle. “... Thanks, Rook. I feel a little better now.”

“It is my pleasure! Better that we tackle the challenge before us with smiles rather than—” Rook stiffened. “... I hear something.”

“What?” Raven stopped and strained her ears. “What do you...”

“... aaaaah... Waaaaaaaaaah...!”

“Someone’s crying,” Trey noted, his voice wary. “It’s not you, Raven?”

“Why would it be?! I’m not an infant!”

“Then it must be another one of those accursed ghosts!” Sebek declared. “Perhaps trying to lure us into some kind of dastardly trap!”

“No, wait... I recognize that voice.” Trey’s eyes widened. “I think that’s Deuce!”

“Deuce?!” Raven’s heart leapt with excitement. It wasn’t who she had been hoping for, but if they were able to find one student... Then surely, surely they would find others, too. “Well, let’s hurry to him! Follow the sound of his voice! ... Uh, but don’t let me lead, because I’ll definitely get us lost.”

“Leave the navigation to me. We shall discover Monsieur Spade’s whereabouts in no time at all!”

“Hoho! What a competent and reliable senior...! I shall overlook your being a puny human just this once!”

“Ahhh... Seriously, are none of you guys normal? No? Just me? Alright...”

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #Rook Hunt #Trey Clover #Sebek Zigvolt #Deuce Spade #notes from the writing raven #spoilers #Trey voice) why are we still here? just to suffer????

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urban-witch101 · 3 years

Text

Hey let's rate the DGR1 formal outfits Part 2

You ready for more? Good. Let's pummel through this mess.

Chihiro

- oh I feel bad for laughing

- I do kind of like the sock stirrup holder thingamabobs because historically that is a much more masculine thing to wear

- despite the dress, he's a boy. He knows it in his heart and he feels it truly no matter what his body says.

- the waistcoat is also masculine!

- but the HAT

- bud

- you look like a leprechaun

- 6/10, hurts my eyes warms my heart

Aoi

- so when I saw the original collage photo of all of them I immediately saw the yellow and cringed

- however when I saw the full body I completely understood

- her look is absolutely beautiful, I love the braids, the flowers are a lovely touch

- oh my gay heart loves this

- I never realized that yellow could look so perfect on a person

- 10/10, in character and well done

Celestia

- 1. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- 2. It's too much.

- oh I know, but hear me out.

- I think she should have had the cape on her cold shoulder dress attached to the rim there, NOT a veil

- it doesn't help that it's very clearly not see through

- you have to look very closely in order to see that her hair is actually tucked underneath it

- LOVE the crown

- 8/10, bold and in character but it wasn't executed well

Yasuhiro

- ...no

- that color

- the orange is chefs kiss, the rolled up sleeves and undone tie are oh my yet also in character

- but the PISS

- YELLOW

- 0/10 YALL FUCKED UP MY BOY

Mondo

- My MAN

- DUDE

- I love this

- he's clearly proud of his culture

- the hair is AWESOME, the pink tip and hair band is just so fun

- it's over the top while also fitting so well

- 10/10, wouldn't change a thing

Kyoko

- gay

- I'm gay

- I'm superdy duperdy duperdoo gay

- the cold shoulder, the purple, the sheer sleeves, the gloves, the hair, the ruffles, the UGH

- chic and classy while being unique to herself

- 10/10, god I've got the biggest crush on her

Junko

- guys, she's the ultimate fashionista but isn't she also a teenager?

- that's a lotta boobage

- I do love that dress though

- the monokuma earrings are also really freaking cute

- I like how the black and white bits are subtle and the red is much more bold, very in character

- I feel like Celestia and Junko would have taken this formal as kind of a dress up competition (if that makes any sense)

- Junko wins by a mile. Celestia has style, but Junko adds ruffles and texture and just staying true to herself in her work

- it's a new classic so to speak

- 9/10, job well done but a little inappropriate

Byakuya

- ah, my favorite bitch boy

- how are his slacks both too small and too big

- his pants are TIGHT that can't be comfortable

- why on earth does he just have a coat laying on his shoulders, there's not even a coat chain to keep it on

- still got the green tie I see with what I assume is a family crest button pinned into it

- I do love how the suit screams money

- he didn't do anything with his hair tho. Not even gel? C'mon man.

- 8/10 a little bland but very him

So! That's all of them. Thoughts?

#danganronpa trigger happy havoc #chihiro fujisaki #mondo owada #junko enoshima #celestia ludenberg #aoi asahina #yasuhiro hagakure #kyoko kirigiri #byakuya togami #part 2

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

Of Blood and Static

Chapter 3: But I'm hoping something new will happen.

(AO3) (First) (Previous) (Next)

Word Count: 2729

////

The Lady is aware of the loops. The ignorance begins at the start of her journey, where the deja vu first strikes her when she catches a glimpse of a boy in a paper bag. The feeling remains as bits and pieces fall into place - where to run, where to hide, and where to jump to. She knows which places are the best to hold on to when a boy in an olive coat comes running and leaping her way. The warmth of his hand is also familiar, as is the sound of his voice, and the kindness he exudes. Of course, as a child, she chooses not to acknowledge these strange feelings, focusing more so on their joint survival.

Things feel natural around the boy. How she enjoys smiling and offering a small laugh in his company. Giving him aid and comfort when he needs it. Watching with concern and worry as he rushes off to face things on his own. Perhaps she should have questioned why she was so quick to lower her guard around him. Perhaps she shouldn't have ignored it.

(Although, what good would have come from acknowledging it?)

Little things keep falling through the cracks and into place as she traverses the city with him. It's easy to call him her friend. Easy to know how to make him smile and laugh. Easy to know what's on his mind and predict his next move.

The cracks grow wider and wider, the picture slowly growing more and more complete as more pieces slip through to feed her memory and actions. She calls him over to a piano, where they must jump on it over and over to make it fall. The instinct is natural, as though she knew all along that destroying this nice instrument would be the key to their escape.

She doesn’t question how she knows it was the right course of action. Perhaps she should have. Mono plays on the keys, and she stops her jumping to watch him try and play a tune. It doesn't work, but it makes her laugh, and that makes Mono laugh.

She should have learned to question this strange naturalness, these strange memory fragments that tell her to look at him in scorn, and to look at him with a kindness that matches his own.

Perhaps that's why letting him go hurts so much. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she holds him, dangling over the ledge.

She has to let go. She has to. It's what her instinct tells her.

(But she doesn't want to. She loves listening to him laugh - it's like a melody unlike the one her music box used to have. She wants to hear it more, fearing that she'll lose that chance someday.)

Mono looks up at her with wide eyes and shock as her tears fall onto his face. He stays shocked as she pulls her hand away from him. Stays shocked even as she fails to form a single "goodbye" or "I'm sorry" before he disappears into the abyss.

Once she becomes the Lady, her memories return in a bigger stream, a larger crack that threatens to bring down the entire wall held up between her memories and not-memories. It's then that she realizes what the television must be for.

(His eyes looked just like the Thin Man's. The connection was made, but she never stopped to question how she knew. Now that she has all the time until her death, she knows why the resemblance struck her as uncanny.)

She presses her hand against the glass of the screen as though it is second nature and watches as it turns on by itself. As she waits for the channel to stabilize, she can't help but wonder just how many times they have done this for her to start out with the picture growing steadily and steadily more complete when she wakes up as a child. How many times has she dropped Mono? How many times have they fought, betrayed, hurt each other before either of them could remember that they've done this before?

Ignorance is bliss, so they say - but to always be so ignorant as a child and then face the consequences as an adult, knowing that the mistakes they made could have been avoided...

Her fingers curl against the warming glass. This television wasn't always here. It must have been through the sheer patience and willpower of one of them that mended their relationship enough for this television to be here. The earlier loops remain a fuzzy recollection to her, but for a man who keeps memories like recordings, it must have pained the Thin Man with each dragging iteration for them to finally reach this stage.

The silhouette of said man appears on the screen, and he looks just as defeated, just as tired, as her many loops have shown her before. She knows the reason for why they continue this endless game of catch-and-release, why she convinces him that there is still a way out for him.

Survival.

But even she's grown tired of her own excuse.

"Mono?" No words greet her as he remains slumped in his chair. "Mono, I'm sorry."

"Mono?" The words feel more like an echo than clear text on a screen. "Strange of you to start off with my childhood name."

"It's your name."

"Not anymore." He straightens in his seat, ramrod and upright as if assuming a position of sorts. "Mono belongs to the boy with the paper bag. I'm not that boy anymore, my Lady."

"You'll always be Mono, just as I will always be Six," she presses. Her mask clinks against the glass as she leans forward. "I'm sorry, Mono, for dropping you again."

No words appear on the screen. This is it, she thinks, no more second chances, no more loops. But why does she care? Is it really for survival? To continue this farce of being alive just to die and live to be tortured and traumatized and broken and betrayed? For so long, she believed that this was how it was supposed to be. But she was always good at lying.

Especially to herself.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, because that's all she can say. He's tired, but she's pushed him past his limits time and time again. And he allowed her to, just because of- what? Because he didn't want to be alone? Because he used this to enact his own act of vengeance, whatever that may be?

She got more out of this than he ever did. Perhaps he realizes this. Perhaps that's why he always asks why she drops him. Perhaps that's why he always holds a thinly veiled plea for her to give it up. He could end the loops easily. He could just not capture her younger self, not harm a hair on his younger self, and they could both escape the Tower. It's that easy.

(...Right? She digs through her memories, hoping to come across a shard that reveals this to her. But alas, she can't find one. What she finds instead is a pile of grounded dust hidden amongst the shards and puzzle pieces, as though someone had thoroughly crushed it and ground it into the floor to erase it from her mind. And only one person could have done that.)

"I'm sorry," she says again, because that's all she can say. "I'm sorry for letting you down again."

"You didn't." She almost misses his words flashing on the screen, and it's almost pathetic how she clings to them. As if she committed no wrong. "I promise you didn't."

"I let you fall. Again." And for what reason? There's always a reason. But she can't find one this time. Not one that makes sense, to be precise. Because she didn't want to let him go. She didn't.

"I know." His words are oddly calm, strangely soothing. They shouldn't be, after all she's put him through. As if she's the one who needs comforting. "I know you did. But I'm not upset."

"Why?" She presses him for answers, because there's no way he can be so calm about this. How many times have they repeated this? For her sake? Never his sake, just hers.

"You gave me a gift this loop."

"...What?"

"A gift." As if to fully emphasize his point, he opens his hands to reveal something. She squints at the screen, but she can't see what it is that he holds so tenderly in his hands. "Do you remember? The hat you found for me."

She blinks behind her mask, nearly stunned silent at the memory. "I... do." It was an old, ratty thing that she found in one of the apartments they'd stumbled through. She had picked it up behind his back as he was searching around for anything they could use, the white of the hat long since dirtied and the ends of the ribbon tattered with age and possible abuse.

A sailor's cap.

When she first presented it to him, his delighted squeal made her smile proudly as he turned to take off his bag and put the hat on. It was bigger than his head with the rim of the cap slipping over his eyes a bit, but he smiled widely for her to see before turning away bashfully to hide his face completely. He'd only worn it for that moment, and she'd concluded that it was a pretty bad hat since it didn't hide his face like he wanted.

"I loved it. I still do." The affection from his words startles her. "Now, it only fits on the tip of my finger, but I still wish that I could have worn it more around you." A pause. "You showed me a kindness I didn't expect. You rarely give presents, after all."

"It was by pure chance that I found it." It wasn't like she was actively searching for it - the sheer dumb luck she possessed that day was what allowed her to come across it. His love for hats was firmly cemented in her mind, and the choice to present it to him was purely on impulse. Like playing together in the school playground. Or sitting down by the vending machine to try out all the weird, flat drinks it had. Pure impulse.

"Still." He tenderly cradles the tiny thing in his hands, and she swears that she can see the smile on his lips despite the distance between them. "It was something different."

Meaning is pressed upon his words, and she struggles to find the right memory for it. But before she can give him a response, his words flash on the screen once more. Somehow, there's a bit of whimsy attached to them, as if he's expecting her to have run out of excuses by now.

"So tell me, dear friend, why did you let me go that day?" She can almost hear his soft tone from her side of the screen (how she so desperately wants to hear it again).

"I..." Her mind struggles to find a reason. Any reason, really, to have let him go. She presses her lips into a thin line, unseen due to her mask. What could she say? What does he want her to say? For what purpose does she need to create a reason for letting him go? Her mind stumbles upon a memory that continues like a loop. A horror that stings her conscience like a lingering wound. Well, better to open up than to let it fester, right? "I wanted a do-over."

"A do-over?" He tilts his head to the side, curious by nature. "How would you know that as a child?"

"We've been through these events so often, Mono, that things tend to linger." She's lying, of course, but perhaps he knows that already. "So of course the feelings can carry over."

"And why did you want a do-over?"

"I..." It’s not something she’s proud of - it’s something she’d rather keep buried forever until she dies and repeats the same horrible, Hunger-induced mistake again, but what’s a few demons between friends? "Before I became the Lady, and when I was still Six, I developed this unruly Hunger."

"Yes, I recall you telling me this before."

"So you would know that I must feed this Hunger before it consumes me entirely." She prepares herself as she watches him lean forward in interest.

"What did you eat, Six?"

Ah, he used her name.

"I... may have eaten a child."

"...Excuse me?"

"I ate a child." She watches as he straightens in his seat, no doubt horrified by her admission.

"You... ate a what?"

"A child. As a child."

"As a child?"

"By accident, may I add."

"By ACCIDENT?"

Oh, she didn't know he could do that with his words.

"By accident." There's no use in skirting the edges of this conversation, now that she's dredged it up herself. "Allow me to explain."

"I don't think I want an explanation."

"You do, I insist." She pulls her hand off the screen to gesture elegantly through the series of events that led to her consumption of the nome. How she had powers to turn children into nomes as an adult. How she, as a child, had no idea that these nomes she'd encounter were actual children. How she, in her vicious Hunger, lashed out at a nome trying to help her and... consumed it. How she, as an adult, finally connected the dots. By the time she finishes her tale, the Thin Man is cradling his head in his hands instead. "And that is why I dropped you. I needed a do-over badly."

"Because you ate a child."

"Because I was going to consume a child, and I had the forethought to plan ahead." She watches as he drags his hands down his face, perhaps rethinking his earlier affection.

"Six, I..." His words trail off, as he fidgets in his seat. "I can't say that I've been any kinder to children than you have, but I can at least confidently say that I haven't eaten any."

"They are actually quite tender and sweet-"

"I really do not want to know." She giggles as he manages to silently cut her off. "But. I guess. I can understand your reasoning." His shoulders slump in what she can only assume is a sigh. "We can try again, so long as you try not to eat another child."

"I can't make any promises."

"Please, I am begging you. At least not as a child."

She smiles as she returns her hand to the warm glass. "I can try. After all, that's the whole point of me dropping you, hm? For another chance to do things right."

"Please. Please do this right." She watches him put something away in his suit pocket, and a fondness warms her soul as he pats it securely. "Please do not resort to cannibalism so early on. I can't say the same for when you're an adult but... at least as a child. Please?"

"You're begging quite a lot, my good sir."

"If you dropped me in hopes of preventing this singular tragedy from continuing, I think it is within my rights to beg for you to keep your word."

"True." She hums softly to herself as she curls her fingers against the screen. "Perhaps I can surprise you again this time around."

"Perhaps." He pauses from his side of the screen as he straightens his posture. "But knowing you, I'm sure you will."

She smiles behind her mask, despite knowing the tragedy that befalls them.

(A little boy in a blue sweater tries to run past her as she screams in rage. Before he can get any further, she captures him in her grasp and watches as he struggles against her hold. She could turn him into a little scrabbling creature, doomed to labor thanklessly in the depths of her ship.

But.

She tosses him at the wall, an audible thud in her dressing room as the shadows drag him away from her sight. It would be a waste of energy to deal with this one when she has more pressing matters to deal with. And besides, she has enough nomes to exploit for loops to come.)

The loop ends with the creaks of bending buildings and the groans of a rocking ship.

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twistednuns · 3 years

Text

October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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darkmindsotome · 5 years

Text

His Secret

MLQC Victor short for the festive period because it was in my head. I hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: A little dash of pumpkin spice to this one.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

His Secret

He had control over a lot of things. His life was a systematic methodical regime of everything neatly ordered and in moderation. His schedule was planned to the millisecond and he knew almost exactly what others were going to say or do around him based on his own actions. It was logical, it was familiar… it was boring.

That was where fate provided a small twist in his long life. A scatter-brained, slightly ditzy female that exceeded his expectations, although not always in the best fashion. Comments had been tossed around the rumour mill about the type of woman he would be interested in. Models, actresses, daughters of highly successful businessmen and politicians. They couldn’t be further from the truth. He found himself unable to look the other way when this one was involved. No matter the situation he observed them from a distance and stepped in only when he was asked too. The last part was harder than it seemed as the curiously fascinating female was stubborn enough to struggle for what felt like eternity without asking for assistance.

What started with curiosity had developed over time into genuine affection, although it appeared that everyone else around them had noticed this except for her. He felt irritation rise inside him knowing that she was oblivious to his feelings but he couldn’t hold it against her as he never spelt it out for her in a way she couldn’t possibly misinterpret. Still, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep a grip on something else he usually dealt with without issue.

He held a secret. It was not something he was proud of and he knew better than to openly display such a thing to the public as it would generate fear and panic. But this time of year was always the worst. When the moon was at its most powerful and the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. Halloween was fast approaching and with it was the one night of the year he usually made every effort to spend alone and locked away from other people. That was his plan this year as well except…

“So, Anna said we should have a company party and invite some of the collaborators, partners and guests that have helped us so far. I could see her point it would help with future negotiations and networking if we could keep everyone on side and then Leo said…” She rambled on with an idiotically cheerful smile on her face. He had been lost in that smile until her lips uttered another man’s name and it felt like he had been plunged into ice water like a freshly cooked egg.

“Leo? You are still talking to him?” He kept his voice low and even willing it to sound calm even as he felt his blood boil.

“Of course I am. He’s a friend as I have already told you AND he is the head of the tv station. We work together on things. It only makes sense to maintain a business connect like that by inviting him to the party and talking to him.” She gave a little huff as she rattled off a naively simple point of view on the topic. He suppressed a sigh as he thought about how she wouldn’t really be her if she knew how dark the world could be. The childlike innocence of her was one of the qualities he found so endearing in her.

“What time and where?” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

“What?” Her expression mirrored the same shock that he felt without letting it show on his own face. It was his night alone. The one night he always kept free from social obligations and work so as to maintain his own life balance. He should be thinking about that right now but all his mind was filled with was the notion of her drinking wine surrounded by people and that Leo character moving in closer circles around her like a shark.

“This childish gathering of yours. I will need details so I can get Goldman to add it to the schedule and attend. Or is there some reason you don’t want me there?” The ball was in her court. If she said she didn’t want him there clearly and that she would choose someone else he would let her go.

“N-no. I just didn’t think you would want to attend a Halloween party. I thought you’d dub it as beneath you and totally stupid and say it was a waste of time and not come to it so I thought…” Her cheeks were flushed pink. Yet another expression she had in her arsenal that targeted him but was oblivious as to how to use it to her advantage.

“And there is your problem. Working without proper tools can only ever result in failure.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leant back in his chair behind his desk and looked at the small female fidgeting. Her innocence really brought out his desire to tease her at times.

“Hey! You know I could tell security to not let you in even if you did show up?” She gave a defiant if rather not completely well thought out rebuttal to his comment.

“And that would be a wise move to pull against your sole investor and financial support to your company because?”

“Well, I…” She stammered and avoided his gaze.

“As I said working without tools can only ever result in failure. So, time and place.”

And that was how he ended up silently cursing his own luck under his breath as he arrived at the hotel her company had selected for the night’s festivities. Everywhere he looked grown men and women were dressed up in costumes using the night as a kind of excuse to cut loose and drink far more than sensible. He could feel their heartbeats vibrating inside him even without touching any of them.

She was running around in a witch costume. The black dress clung to her body in all the right places giving her a more mature silhouette than he was used to seeing. He began to get annoyed. She looked impossibly cute, so cute he wished to remove her from all the people ogling her. She was also drinking much more than she knew she could.

he watched as she staggered a few times before she left the room. She was waving off the hands offering assistance as she ventured into gardens to get some fresh air and cool off. He downed his glass of brandy, almost slamming the empty tumbler on the bar counter and followed her.

“What do you think you are doing?” He called out harshly to her when he found her propped up against the trunk of a tree sitting on a bench.

“Victor?” Her voice was full of surprise as she looked up at him with those big eyes.

“Yes, Victor who else did you think it was? Or maybe you were hoping for one of those guys in there instead of me.” He motioned behind him back in the direction of the party. As if on cue a sudden burst of laughter rang out from the gathering filling the night air.

“No. I just didn’t think you’d follow me.” She sighed and allowed herself to sink further back against the tree. The small hat on her head that was attached to a band slipped a little more to the side of her head.

“Well someone is clearly incapable of hosting a small gathering without making a spectacle of themselves. Idiot.” He muttered that last part softer than the first before taking a seat next to her.

“Ugh…” As she groaned, he just knew it was because he had hit a nerve. She was so easy to read and predict.

“I don’t know why you do it. I can’t tell if you are seriously this naive or if you are just that dense.” His continued criticism of the night was certainly something he was thinking but even he knew he should be drawing the line somewhere. The trouble was with her he couldn’t hold back. No that wasn’t exactly true. He didn’t want to hold back. They were close in age sure but it was more than that. From the moment they met, she had spoken her mind and been frank with him. She was not another Yes man paying lip service to him in the hope of continued funding. He liked that. He loved that.

“Have we already hit the lecture portion of this evening I wasn’t aware it was that time already.”

“What?” He turned to look at her with unhidden wonder. He was used to seeing her stumbling about semi docile and in need of guidance. He was used to hearing small bursts of escaped thoughts during phone conversations but he had never really seen much of this side of her. Humans really were fascinating creatures.

“No. No, what? Listen, Victor, I’ve reached my limit on this. I’m completely capable of doing things without your personal brand of “assisting” which just involves insulting me constantly. I’m not a little girl I’m a grown woman.”

He hadn’t seen her this full of fight in a while. Her pulse was racing and it probably had something to do with the sudden realisation that she had just said what she had to him rather than the alcohol in her system. She looked like someone had tossed ice water on her. Her eyes wide with shocking clarity as she stared at him her hand clamped over her mouth. He would have laughed had this been any other time. But his mind was drifting in time with the beat of her heart.

“I’m going back inside. Be sure to make yourself presentable before returning also.” He went to stand up only to stop when he felt the weight of something on his jacket. Her small hand was gripping him as her face continued to flicker between confusion and anger.

“Wait.”

“Let go of me.” He moved his hand to hers and teased it from him. His fingers grazing over her wrist reminded him of how quickly her heart was pounding.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said what I did like that.” The fire she showed before seemed to be gone and she was back to being meek. It was a look that hurt him more tonight than at any other time. If she wanted to stand strong in business and continue her dream, she had to have fire.

“Why are you apologising?” He sighed and frowned as he looked at her bowing her head to him.

“What?” She looked up probably a little shocked that he wasn’t agreeing that she had been very rude to him. She still didn’t understand that things like this didn’t affect him.

“Why apologise for saying something that you have clearly been thinking about for a long time? It’s pointless. It wastes energy and time. Now let go before you make any more of a fool out of yourself.” He said his piece aware of how his mouth was watering. He had to get away.

“No. Not until you tell me why you are running away.” She stubbornly refused to let him go almost jumping in front of him to block his retreat.

“I am not running I am returning to the bar some of us are capable of enjoying a drink without it resulting in a public spectacle.”

“Well it looks like you are avoiding me and it hurts.” Her eyes looked glassy as if she was about to cry.

“What?” He stood there in stunned observation. She couldn’t possibly know the danger she was in. How when the scent of her shampoo in the air blended with her own sweet aroma had his restraint faltering. The faster her heart raced the sweeter it became and he was intoxicated. He knew it wouldn’t take much to break it. All she had to do was show him one little gap in her armour and let him in. “You…”

“It’s fine sorry you’re right I’ve had too much to drink I really don’t know what I’m saying just go back inside and have fun. It’s why you came here after all.” She sounded defeated and stepped aside. He was all too aware of the loss of warmth from her near him and found himself chasing it. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t here because of the drink or the amusement. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything that she loved to hear in those old movies she liked too much.

Instead what happened was a rather passionate sudden kiss. One hand wrapped around her hip as the other naturally found its home at the back of her head cradling it as he dragged her closer to him. She was wide-eyed in shock staring at him as he continued to deepen the kiss pushing his tongue past her lips and teeth to mingle with hers. swallowing her surprised noises along with her pleasurable moans. Her eyelids fluttered shut and his hand on her him snaked around to her back and sides enjoying that mature outline of her body he had seen on display earlier.

Her small hands came up to pat his chest and he released her allowing her to catch her breath. She was glowing in the moonlight. A totally new look present on her face that had his heart skipping as he realised it was a look of lust directed only at him. Her gasp of shock was what snapped him out of his fantasy.

He was suddenly aware of the ivory showing in his mouth. He knew they were there it was as he had feared. He spent so many years hiding his secret from the world only to have it fail him when faced with desire for another. He still had time. He could retreat and leave without saying a thing and if she asked or said anything he could say she was drunk or he was in costume or something. He could do that. But his body was not obeying him and instead remained still as she edged closure to him a single finger reaching out to his lips and touching a fang.

“It’s real…” She whispered her voice holding none of the fear he was expecting.

“Yes.” He looked at her the look in her eyes had changed and he felt his heart sink. There was no going back now it seemed. “I’m sorry I…”

“Does it hurt when they come out like that?” The childlike question caught him off guard. His words stolen from him and all he found he could do was shake his head in reply. “Good. I was worried you were in pain.”

“What?”

“For a moment there you looked like you were really hurting. But if you aren’t then it’s fine.” She smiled the same soft smile he fell for months ago and stayed by his side without fleeing.

“You know what I am. You know what I could do to you and still, you stay?”

“Yes. Because I also know that you won’t hurt me. Regardless of what you are Victor you have never once been cruel.” Her words were resplendent in their conviction as she looked up at him. There were no more secrets here. A weight he never really fully understood had been removed from his chest and he felt light enough to fly.

“You really are an idiot.” He chuckled as he drew her to him and kissed her again softer than before. “I’m not letting you go. Not now you know my secret.”

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mars-barssss · 5 years

Text

you aren’t alone anymore: Virgil (4/6)

Chapters

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Trigger warnings: Deceit Appearance/Mention, Facades, Mentions of arguments/fight, Low self-worth, Possession, Snakes

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, Deceit

Pairings: Platonic LAMP; Platonic Analogical, Platonic Moxiety, Platonic/Romantic Prinxiety

Word Count: 3k Words.

Summary: Virgil’s need to protect others goes beyond physical protection. He does a good job of looking after each of the others in his famILY, but he doesn’t have the time to take care of himself. Lucky for him, he’s got someone looking after him too. More than one actually, to his surprise.

— — —

Virgil protects too many people to protect himself. A certain snake drops by. Virgil isn’t alone.

…

It’s been weeks since Virgil had wandered through the mindscape. He was still contributing, of course. Showing up for videos, and the likes of it. But as soon as he was no longer necessary, he always wandered right back to his room. Before Patton could talk to him. He was surprised at how well he managed his composure on camera when he was like this. As soon as the recording in, he retreated back into himself, becoming anxious, an upset mess.

He knew it was childish, but something felt sickening about the whole situation. He trusted Patton, and here he was relying on the snake’s influence, which was almost a drug to others. Eventually, when Patton’s smiles were smaller and less often, Virgil noticed. The other two sides picked up on this problem early on. Both of which attempted to help. Logan was often at Virgil’s door, speaking through it to him, despite not getting an answer from the anxious side. He also reassured the moral side, giving him something solid to believe about the situation.

Roman, on the other hand, managed to get into Virgil’s room several times since the incident. Every time Roman knocked, the door creaked open, allowing the side to come in. Roman never did like the sight. Virgil’s eyes were usually puffy, his eye shadow misplaced. His hands were frozen in front of him, and he kept shaking in the uncomfortable weight of the argument. Although he had been told what happened with Patton, he never understood what was so bad about it. Virgil just reassured him that it’s never good to trust that snake. Something about what happened when Deceit used that power. Something on the lines of poisoning them.

When questioned Virgil just looked at him distraught.

“Sides that interact with that kind of power get corrupted, Princey. To have some, no, all of your dreams and wishes to seemingly become real is bad.”

“Why? Isn’t that a good thing? Dreams and wishes are of the most wondrous things, and-”

“It’s corruption. Stuff that is too good to be true is never good. And eventually you’re just stuck in la-la land.” Virgil looked away, curling up tighter. His eyes locked on his old hoodie, behind his bed.

Roman didn’t really question much more from then on. Nothing made much more sense than that. He was always determined on entering the anxious side’s room, however.

Virgil was honestly surprised about one thing, however. He knew for a fact that Patton had a key to the anxious side’s room, just like Virgil did for Patton’s room. He wouldn’t put it past the moral side to be so concerned that he’d make his own way inside. And, yeah, Patton didn’t know, probably. So he’s being a kid acting like it’s all his fault. Virgil will stop this pointless charade soon, he was sure it was making him incredibly jittery.

It really was all Virgil’s fault, and if he could get over himself he could fix it.

But what if Patton didn’t forgive him? What if it stays the same? What if it’s never the same again?

In front of everyone’s eyes, Virgil seemed to be falling apart, slowly. Slowly, his hoodie’s zipper was higher up, his mannerisms were small, his voice began to fail. Virgil was slowly showing up less and less, and stopped talking to the others even.

Right now, however, is another day. And today, Virgil is alone again. Another video recording was covered in a veil of tension from the two awkward sides. Look at what you did. His heart was tightly grasped at, and his lungs wept for air. You’re a failure. His body was tightly curled up, and sobs wracked his body, much like it did the days previous. Tell him, it’s your fault, tell him, everything is your fault, tell him, oh god let this be over, help, tell him, tell him, TELL HIM-

Virgil only sobbed harder in the chaotic mess that was his mind. Shadows coiled around his wrists again, whispering. His room seemed to darken, causing the anxious side to cover his face further.

“Tell me what, Vee?”

The voice sent shivers down his back. Virgil’s face lifted up from where he stared at the floor. A figure manifested in front of him, smiling sadistically. Scales traveled from his eye to his chin, covering half of his face. The familiar voice that echoed within his room was finally brave enough to visit, it seemed.

Virgil looked unimpressed for the most part, getting up from the ground. Or at least tried to look unimpressed. His tear filled eyes gave it away. “Why are you here?”

“No reason, Virgil. Is it wrong for a friend to say hi to another friend?” His smile rose a bit higher on his cheeks. The anxious side pointedly avoided looking at him, wiping his previous tears away.

“We aren’t friends.” His voice begrudgingly grunted out. His postured pushed him further away from the intruder, crossing his arms.

“Oh, but they are, aren’t they? Since when have I lost the privilege Vee?” Deceit questioned. He gripped his hat, holding it tightly and low, mockingly looking sad, but his frown didn’t look right.

“Leave them, out of this- this mess!” Virgil snapped back around pointing accusingly at the devious side. Deceit only raised his six hands outwards, surrendering from the accusation.

“A bit too late for that one, don’t you think?” His voice attempted to be sympathetic, as one of his hands grabbed his hat, placing it back upon his head. “Besides, I hadn’t known you’ve grown such a heart for these sides. A bit too, familial for my taste.”

“What did you do, who did you…?” Virgil looked back through the shock, shaking his head. There couldn’t be another person in his trap, right? Was he talking about Patton?

“Not the royal idiot, if you’re wondering. Nor the surprisingly irritating teacher.”

“Patton was done with you when I found out about your games with him!” His anger merely returned to where it once was, fury building up under his skin.

“He thought he was. But he keeps his own lies, you know this. He is quite the hypocrite, I’d even say.” Deceit shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”

A burst of energy bled throughout his body, tossing a searing blast of purple and black towards the other side. It flared up, before spreading and exploding, hitting all but Virgil’s bedroom wall. Another blast of power surged around his hands, waiting for his next attack.

Deceit was already on the other side of the room, before it even got close. “Quite rude of you, Vee.” He hopped down from the dresser he ended up sitting on. “Take a lesson from know-it-all, since you want to be close to these sides.”

With a quick snap, Deceit morphed right into Logan. His cloak melted into a suit, yellow fading right into blue. It was almost a perfect replica, down to even the logical side’s voice. However, his tie was a faded blue, a terrible replica of what the logical side used to wear. Not what he currently did. “Avoid jumping to conclusions, it can be a problematic way to think. Context clues are very important.”

Virgil’s hand was pointing towards Logan, but the moment he changed forms, he hesitated. His power drained a little at the sight. At this, Logan smiled a smile that was a bit too large.

“Don’t use them against me, Dee.” He grimaced, taking a step backwards. His hands trembled both from the unused power, and from the searing gaze that Logan gave him, which was quite scrutinizing. Logan adjusted his glasses.

“Then at least listen to what I have to say, Virgil.” The monotone voice remained terrifyingly stable and almost real. With another gesture, his body morphed again, this time forming into the presence and power of Roman. He wore his old outfit, bending uncharacteristically on his shoulders. His sash was faded, almost pink in quality. It also didn’t have Virgil’s new stitches that he tried to add. Yet his impression of Roman’s voice didn’t fail. “You don’t know everything about these sides. They lie, much like me. Yet, you intend to keep them on a pedestal, while they are no better than me.”

“I mean, acting is truly no more than lying, right?” Roman adjusted his outfit, the sash uncomfortably attached to his outfit. “I know every lie that has ever been told in this mind. Including theirs. Vee, they use you. All of them.” Roman approached Virgil, as he spoke the last words.

Virgil’s reflexes caused him to stumble back, hitting a Rubik’s Cube off of the bookshelf. It fell to the floor, still unfinished and incomplete.

“Even Logan. They all lie to you, Virgil. You know this. They found out you were necessary,” Roman’s smile grew uncomfortably too big. “They had to keep you around. Their motives are all for Thomas, not to become friends with something like you. I know everything they do with you. Because each of them lie when they tell you, ‘We care about you’, or each time they pat you on the back.”

“And the worst of all offenders-” Roman’s smile echoed Deceit’s uncomfortable smile. Before Virgil could look away, he morphed one last time, becoming an eerily familiar Patton. His cardigan was around his neck, not his cat hoodie. The cardigan itself was suffocated of even any gray, almost appearing white. His smile remained just as unsettling. “Patton actually went looking for me today, Vee. He went looking for me when he with tears in his eyes.”

Virgil’s eyes were all but locked on this Patton, his eyes welling up with tears. One managed to escape his eyes. “W-What?” His voice trembled, but was still determined in his voice. “What did you tell him, what did you show him?!”

“Ah, finally. Listening to reason. Thank you. While it’s a lie that’s not mine to tell, this is more important.” He looked right into Virgil’s eyes. Triumphant that he was winning, he continued. “He came to me, with tears in his eyes just today. Yes, he’s come to me much earlier than now, but this one’s a good one. He felt so insecure, Vee. I could feel it. He was truly the only one of them who didn’t always lie to you. In fact, he loved you despite you being who you are. He just lied to hide his emotions, anything that wasn’t happy wasn’t good.”

“He hides his fear of abandonment, he hides his sadness, and he hides from the recent thoughts of you.” Patton looked at his hands, then gestured to Virgil, waving his arms. “He’s been wracked with grief, because he believes you hate him. It’s almost incredible that you broke the only one of them who wanted you.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped a bit, grimacing at each word that he heard. “No… no, no…”

“He uses me to replace you all. Says I’m, ‘close enough.’ Today, he saw everyone in the dining room for breakfast. He was making pancakes, and everyone was laughing. You were laughing with them, Vee. Everyone said they loved him. Every time he gets overwhelmed, every time he feels awful, he plays it off and sneaks into my room. ‘Cause it makes him feel better. ‘Cause it makes him feel better about himself. He’s become dependent on me, because you don’t do your job. Because all of you don’t do your job. Sometimes it’s Logan, sometimes it’s Roman.” He shrugs indifferently. “I do mine, however.”

Virgil backed up a few steps, looking away. Distantly, he’s aware Deceit returned back to his normal form, and has approached him. A hand was resting on his shoulder now. Virgil didn’t have the power to slow his heart, or to avoid the whispers Deceit laid in front of him. “These sides lie as much as I do. Roman lies to himself about being confident. Logan lies about how sure he his in each problem he solves. Patton lies about how much he cries. And you, Virgil, lie to yourself that these sides love you.”

Virgil shoved him away in a small fit of anger, before a hand rests on his cheek for a moment, wiping at a tear that escaped. Holding his hand there for longer, Deceit whispers more words past Virgil’s defenses. “That these sides want you around. That you are a part of their family. That just because you were ‘accepted’ you meant something to them. And the one who wanted you, you let down.”

“Leave me alone.” Virgil’s shoulders tense away, trying to cower. More tears fall unceremoniously to the ground. Deceit kept his hand on his cheek, with another hand reaching for a well-cared-for card on the wall, reading:

‘U R famILY’

“That you don’t need me. You need me, Vee. You’re alone, and I can give you what you need. A sense of security that you desire. I’m the only one who cares for you for you. You’re a mess, Anxiety.” Anxiety’s eyes widened at the card Deceit held onto. He tried to shrink out of Deceit’s grip, but another arm grabbed at his shoulder.

“Go away.”

“Come home, Anxiety. Don’t let them figure out what you are. What a disease you are. That you are one of us. They’ll abandon you, but you can let that go and escape with me. It’ll only hurt more you stay here.” Deceit used another arm to start to make a tear into the card. The sound was deafening for the anxious side.

“Please…”

“Come back, Anxiety.” A snake slithered from Deceit’s cape, coiling around Deceit’s neck, before slithering onto Anxiety’s shoulder. Large in size, his comfortingly winded around his arm. It rubbed against his chin, giving a false sense of hope, he knows. But it feels so nice. Anxiety begins to smile. It opens its mouth, preparing to bite him, to take him home, when-

“VIRGIL-!”

Patton, the real one, slammed open Virgil’s door, enough to turn both side’s heads towards him. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were wide open. His neck had two swollen bite marks, as if they hadn’t healed yet, and his eyes were a faint yellow. From his posture it looked like it took a lot of himself to keep moving; to fight the venom from knocking him out again.

His knuckles gripped the door frame tightly, staring at the both of them. He spots how close Deceit is to Virgil, who begins to hiccup with sobs. He sees Deceit’s hand in the middle of wiping a tear away from Virgil’s cheek, another arm pinning Virgil to the wall, and the large golden boa that wrapped itself around Virgil’s neck. It had a purple eye, and it stared right into Patton’s soul. His breathing stuttered for a moment, before he got this look on his face. It was unreadable, but determined.

Patton’s shout must have alarmed the others as well, since moments after Patton’s arrival, the other two entered behind them, shocked expressions on their faces.

Logan’s face turned disgusted, and Roman immediately drew his sword the moment they spotted them. “You foul snake-! Return back to the depths you came from!” Roman took a few urgent steps towards the snake himself, his unsheathed sword a mere arms distance away from his neck. Deceit didn’t even flinch. He just stared at the side, holding Virgil close. A small smile crept onto his face, curving in strange directions.

“I truly am surprised, Vee. Why you chose these sides over me. Over the others.” Deceit glanced at the cornered side, his hand still on his cheek, and a new hand gripped at Virgil’s shaking hand. “Maybe, there’s another way for you to return to me. Away from the sides that don’t like you, the ones who lie about you.”

“Falsehood, Virgil, we have never lied about-” Logan’s voice was strained and burst forth, as if offended. He took a step forward towards the pair of them, before his hand covered his own mouth.

“Quiet, will you? This is a private matter.”

Another hand reached for Roman’s holding him at bay when he took another step closer. A few snakes arose, surrounding the two of them, causing Roman to retreat in shock for the briefest of moments. While he was still unsettled, Roman’s expression fought through the fear. “Let him- go!”

A smaller group of snakes surrounded Patton and Logan for a moment, causing Patton to flinch. Logan stayed firm in his location, pulling Patton away temporarily from the snakes. “Deceit! Please stop-!”

“Oh, Patton. My puppet, I’m so sorry. You see, I have something to accomplish, something to remind him. Oh, do I miss my friend, as you miss yours. I’m just like you all, really. I want to help Thomas, but no one gives me the time of day! It’s not my fault that he needs to remember something for me. Won’t you do that for me Vee?” Deceit turned back to Virgil, who was cowering under Deceit’s hold. The snake still remained comfortably around his neck. His hands struggled in vain under his hold. “You see, Patton, let me teach you something. You might’ve been unconscious in your ‘dreams’, but it’s possible to be awake too. An incredibly useful skill, I’d say.”

His hand that had once been stopping Roman had now reached towards the anxious side’s hoodie. It lowered the lip of the hoodie. He looked upon the two old scars of a bite from a long time ago. With a small whistle, the largest snake that had been coiled around Virgil had slithered by his neck.

“Virge, move, do something!” Patton pushed pass Logan’s hold from the snakes, and tried to approach them determinedly, before several snakes hissed at him for him to stay still. His voice was almost screaming at the other side, several tears dropping to the ground.

“Dee, stop it! Please I-”

“Now, now, Virgil. Be quiet for me, and the quicker everything goes back to normal.” Deceit nearly sounded like a tired mom, as the snake curled one more time around his neck, before biting directly into the old scars, spreading yellow marks throughout Virgil’s veins.

He couldn’t help but scream before everything went black.

…

Taglist: @nonbinary-pansexual-me

(The next part will continue directly from this chapter! Have a great day.)

Edit: Just realized I didn’t tag this at all

#platonic lamp #lamp #sandersides #sanders sides #virgil #patton #roman #deceit #logan #prinxiety #anxiet

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desperate-entwives · 5 years

Text

woven

memori week day eight: wedding/something blue

My dear friend, You knew this was going to happen. You told me once, on the ring, that first time we attempted what you called a “girls’ night”. We were still waiting for Emori to arrive. “I wonder how long it’ll take,” was how you brought it up. And Raven nodded, folding her arms behind her bed. She was reclining on your bed; the two of us were on the floor, and you were sectioning off my hair, getting ready to braid it. “A few years,” she replied, “but it’s gonna happen. God knows she could do better.” “What are you talking about?” I said, trying not to flinch at your hands in my hair. Closeness between women was still new to me back then, touch a strange thing, but I wanted to try. “Murphy and Emori,” you said, folding the sections of hair gently. “Is this pressure okay? Too much?” “No,” I said. “It’s good.” And it was. “What about them?” “They’re gonna get married,” you said.

“Obviously,” Raven chimed in. I hadn’t yet heard the word. “Married?” I echoed (don’t laugh, it’s not funny). “It’s a thing we do in our culture, sometimes,” Raven said. “It’s what people do when they want to swear themselves to one another for the rest of their lives.” Her hand fiddled near her chest, like she was looking for an invisible pendant, and I thought of Bellamy. We’d been seeing one another for a month, not long enough for that kind of assessment, but I thought of him still. “What about you and Monty?” I asked, turning to look at you, and you blushed, looking away. “Maybe,” you said. “I never liked the idea of marriage, but maybe with him...” “This is sickening,” Raven announced, and then Emori came in and we all changed the subject. I wonder, sometimes, if you and Monty got married, gave yourselves a formal ceremony in space. Or maybe the self-imposed isolation was your ceremony. Maybe you didn’t need words, just knowledge and devotion and the regularity of a day-to-day calmness, a life you’d chosen for yourselves. I’ll get up the nerve to ask your son one of these days. I wish you could have been there yesterday. --- The ink is a different color because I stepped away. I’m still getting used to writing. Are the letters shaky, hard to make out? I’m not a fool; I know you’re not here, that you’re not going to read this. But maybe part of me hopes that you are somewhere, and that you will read this. Jackson tells me that grief doesn’t have to make sense, and the grief was weighing me down throughout the ceremony yesterday, because you should have been there. You shouldn’t have left us. You should have been there, fixing Emori’s hair for her and making fun of Murphy with Raven because he couldn’t stop crying. This is how I’m coping with that anger, with that despair. At first, Bellamy didn’t think I was expressing grief at all. Then he saw that friendship is still new to me. The feeling of someone’s hands in my hair. This is a different grief than the one I felt for my parents long ago. I’m watching things that should also be watched by someone else, someone who understands these things as intimately as I do. I am stepping away now. I’ll come back. Don’t mind the blotchiness; the ink gets like that sometimes. --- It was a good day, yesterday. We have our own colony now, a place of our own on this moon you and Monty worked so hard to lead us to. It wasn’t a smooth transition, but the conflicts are over, for the most part. There are other people here, and we don’t talk to them much. You don’t want to know why. There are these trees here, trees with wide tops like mushrooms, and there are two suns. You know about the suns. The sky is sometimes stained pink, like blood in snow, and it’s warm and beautiful. (Deadly, too. Again, you don’t want to know why.) Raven and I helped Emori get ready, even though we all thought splitting up by gender was a little silly. Even though we did it on the ring a few times. “You don’t have to do this,” she said as I brushed her hair. It’s getting long again, you know, though not quite as long as it was when we first met her. “I think it’s tradition,” I said. “I wish I was better at braiding.” You were always the best at that, and the three of us sat quietly with that thought for a moment. “Don’t braid it,” she said suddenly, and that’s part of how she remembered you, I think. Knowing that something was missing. Kind of like how she told us she never wore earrings again after her brother died. “You gonna attach a veil to that old hat of yours?” Raven quipped, and she laughed. They’d explained veils to us a few days earlier. “I think John knows what my face looks like by now,” she said. “Maybe he should wear a veil,” Raven mused. “Do us all a favor.” Then Emori hit her with her crumpled up hand wrap, which she’d just removed for the ceremony, and they laughed, and maybe I laughed too. I have a hard time remembering it when I laugh. It creeps up on me and then fades. --- Emori looked beautiful. There was a time I would have never found someone like her beautiful; you knew this, you helped me through it. It’s hard, when you’re immersed in an idea, to internalize the wrongness of the idea. But she looked beautiful; a long dress of yellow that she probably hated, and her hair held up in a clip that John helped to carve. The ritual itself was short and, I think, mostly for show. They’ve known for a long time. He asked her a year ago, you know, and I’m almost glad you missed it, because that was a dark time. I guess Murphy looked nice too, no matter what Raven might say. He said a short vow, and Emori said one after him, and tears ran down his cheeks. Maybe I cried too. Maybe Bellamy rested his hand on my shoulder and I leaned my head against his. They danced first, something soft and slow that only belonged to the two of them, and then she danced with each of us in turn, those of us left from the years on the ring. I never knew I’d have a family like this. She told me, a few nights ago, that she never expected it either. “My family is John,” she’d said, “but it isn’t just John. It’s all of you.” We all danced, and ate the food that we’d grown, and Bellamy and I were exhausted by the time we retired to our quarters. I looked out the window, though, and I saw the two of them dancing, newly wed. There was no music playing anymore; they were dancing to silence.

---

I forgot to tell you this part. But you were there, in a way. There’s a tradition the sky people have, you know, that you need four things for a wedding: something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. Raven brought it up right before the ceremony, perhaps as a joke. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Emori said. “Yeah, but it’s tradition,” Raven said, grinning, and then I remembered something. “That bracelet you stole from Harper,” I said. “All those years ago.” Emori considered this, face thoughtful, and disappeared into her quarters. She emerged with the bracelet. You know the one. She and John stole it as a prank, and you told her to keep it, but she never wore it. It’s beautiful, made of faded blue cloth woven and knotted. “You’ve never worn it,” I said. “So it’s new. And the color is right.” “It’s also old,” she said. “And… and borrowed.” Raven reached out and touched it, eyes closed. The short silence was a heavy thing, and we’ll have to keep carrying it. But maybe it was heavy like a presence. Maybe grief doesn’t make sense, and maybe the four of us are still woven together, and always will be. “Thank you,” Emori said quietly. Thank you. For now, I have nothing more to say. -Echo

#memoriweek 2019 #emori #john murphy #echo kom spacekru #harper mcintyre #memori #this is actually more spacegirls than memori #spacekru #my fic #some memori writing #becho #marper

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theparanormalperiodical · 5 years

Text

Boris Johnson’s 5 Not-So-Alive Housemates: The Haunting of Downing Street And The Other Government Buildings You Need To Know About

It’s a new week in British politics which typically means half the cabinet has resigned, a ‘fresh’ approach to Brexit is put to the public, and the PM has pleaded with the Queen to put the ‘United’ in ‘United Kingdom’ in bold.

Oh, and with this new week comes a new Prime Minister.

Yay.

(Emphasis on the sarcasm and sheer volumes of dread in that ‘yay’.)

But anyway – if politics is making you feel dead inside, why not stick to the deceased theme?

For the past 3 years we have been consumed with concluding who is the next candidate to forward march us into our uncertain future.

And it got me thinking: are there any ghost prime ministers?

In fact, is Downing Street haunted?

Yet it turns out someone has already beaten me to that level of imagery. When I began my research into the ghosts and spirits roaming our governmental arenas, I came across a problem.

British politics is indeed haunted, but only in a metaphorical sense, well, according to the papers, anyway.

British politics is haunted by the Euroscepticism that gave rise to the EU referendum, by the age-old beliefs breaking our parties into factions, and the candidates? Well, a quick flick through the tabloids will tell you they are to be haunted by their personal lives, let alone their past professional missteps.

But you can keep your metaphors for your papers, politics and podcasts; today we are going to be discussing the actual ghosts haunting 10 Downing Street, and the international hauntings that include the White House and Japan’s official Presidential residence.

First up is the UK’s very own Downing Street

Boris Johnson will have barely unpacked his stuff before he starts to encounter the hauntings that Downing Street is surprisingly not famous for.

British history has been cloaked with a dark veil considering its bloody past, and this assumes a gaggle of ghosts mirroring its many tragedies will be lurking in the nooks of crannies of most notable places. And its probably this which has made way for the 6 ghosts haunting its hallowed halls.

7 prime ministers have died in office, and only one PM has ever died in Downing Street – Campbell-Bannerman. But it turns out that one assassinated PM (the only PM to ever has been assassinated) frequently returns during times of national crisis:

Spencer Perceval died in 1832 having been shot in the House of Commons, and following his tragic death, his body was returned to his residence where he lay for 5 days.

It is often claimed that the ghost of Perceval wearing Regency Dress wanders inside and outside the residence, and he was frequently sighted by workmen in the 50s and 60s, verifying him as the main spirit staking claim to this government building.

Next up we have a female phantom who has even found her way into the papers given her common haunting.

The facilities manager of No.10 was new to the team when he saw lights in a nearby room were left on. Walking across one room to reach the other, he felt and saw a person pass beside him, only to disappear mere moments after.

He recalls the ‘swishing’ sound like that of a dress made of taffeta, and upon asking a colleague, he was told that he had seen the ghost.

Reportedly, a woman in a white gown goes between the state dining room and the pillared room - with some even adding a rather luxurious set of pearls to that description. These 2 rooms often hold key political figures as both state functions and international agreements are held here, so perhaps the sightings of the Lady in White go much further than the tales tell…

Our final two ghosts have rather vague descriptions attached to their presences, but their creepiness doesn’t end with their limited back stories.

From a little girl haunting a basement and grabbing hands of those passing by, to a male in a top hat wandering through the entrance hall and into a closed door, there is no shortage of spooky here in the UK.

Yet even beyond these apparitions are the arguably more disjointed hauntings that BoJo will soon encounter: a cigar smell perhaps from Churchill himself, and footsteps followed by suspecting Policemen are common occurrences, and will continue even after Brexit.

No, I take that back, Brexit will never end.

The White House: The Most Haunted House in America

No seriously, I mean that subtitle; keep your Amityvilles, and forget your Occult Museums, this is where shit gets real.

And sure, whilst the most terrifying presence in the White House is actually living, the dead have always made their residency known.

“I jumped up and put on my bathrobe, opened the door, and no one there. Went out and looked up and down the hall, looked in your room and Margie’s. Still no one…The damned place is haunted sure as shootin’”

This is from a letter President Harry Truman wrote to his wife and daughter, and is one of many claims from those that have either lived or visited this prestigious home.

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is believed to be home to many less-than-living occupants, and famous ones at that.

Abraham Lincoln is one such President to make claims to the haunting of the White House, often witnessing his son, Willie, who died at the age 11 following typhoid fever. But Lincoln’s relationship with those that still walk its halls doesn’t stop there.

In fact, he is one of the most well known ghosts to make your acquaintance should you visit.

Grace Coolidge – one of the first ladies – often claimed she saw him looking out of the window that once belonged in his office, and the Queen of the Netherlands claimed she saw him whilst sleeping in his bedroom.

Even Winston Churchill saw – and talked to – Lincoln. With cigar in one hand, and completely starkers, he greeted the phantom president.

But aside from walking in on sleeping monarchs, and being flashed by Prime Ministers, he often walks the hallways, knocks on doors, and stands by the windows, looking out at the country he once guided.

Oh, and it doesn’t stop there; Annie Surratt – the daughter of a woman convicted of being a cog in Lincoln’s death – often pleads with the residents for the release of her guilty mother.

If you’re looking for a different president, listen out for Thomas Jefferson’s violin playing, or perhaps the less sweet and subtle tones of Andrew Jackson’s swearing.

Or perhaps you’re in search of America’s first ladies, instead?

Abigail Addams is often seen wandering around the East Room with her arms outstretched, as if to carry and dry linen sheets, which was one of the pastimes she took up at the White House.

And Dolley Madison also sticks to doing chores in the afterlife, with Woodrow Wilson’s administration frequently reporting her ghost taking care of the Rose Garden which they were about to move.

In response to this silent and spirit-based protest, they kept it in the same place.

Yet despite the prevalence and sheer details regarding these sightings, there is evidently decline in the paranormal activity at the White House.

Jerry Smith – a doorman who spent a quarter of a century at the White House – claims renovations have begun to clear the spirits from this site, suggesting these age-old presidents don’t stray too far from the good ol’ days!

Well, whenever those days supposedly are, anyway.

Shinzo Abe’s Poltergeist Problem

In 2013 the Japanese government made a statement.

And this statement clarified that were in fact no spirits haunting the official residence of the Prime Minister.

It all started when Abe failed to move into the official governmental dwelling shorting after he assumed power in December. Following his resignation in 2007, suspicions were aroused about his reluctance to get the long haul shipping vans in.

Rumours of illness and scandal typically swirled the tabloid drain, and claims he had suffered a ‘bad experience’ at the residence in his previous term began to emerge.

The rival Democratic Party even asked if ghosts were the cause of this, mocking their political opponent, but it turns out this question doesn’t necessarily go so unfounded.

The residence – as it was built in 1929 – has seen some brutal and bloody history. From one PM’s assassination, and the murder of several officers after a military coup, the claims of haunting do have a solid basis to them.

Even a former PM in 2006 claimed he wanted to see a ghost there, although he never managed to.

Indeed, Shinzo Abe draws us back to the reality behind hauntings – whether the afterlife is real, or not; politics may be haunted by ghosts, but the real hauntings are always personal, are always professional.

Just as much as BoJo will take his first steps into his new home followed by his trail of regrets and wrongdoings, he will be greeted by the real terrors that still take up residence in Downing Street.

Is there a paranormal political figure you’ve ever wanted to meet or move in with?

Whether alive or not-so-alive, let me know down in the comments.

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kallura-icedcoffee · 5 years

Text

poppy: double date

A flower that blooms in the desert

Plance x Kallura Week 2018

A/N: Look I can already hear you saying “but KIC, PLKA Week was last month and you’re just now finishing the last prompt?!” and to that I say in my best Ariana Grande voice and twirl “...and what about it?”

What Happens In Vegas

…stays in Vegas, especially if you can’t remember all of it

(aka The Hangover AU no one asked for)

“We should go on a couples trip!”

“Couples trip?”

“Yeah the four of us. It could be fun.”

“I’m down. Where would we go?”

“Let’s go some place exciting!”

“Vegas!”

“Lance…”

“I’m serious! See the lights, take in a show, play a couple slot machines. What’s the worst that could happen?”

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

Allura woke up slowly, groggily, her body feeling like it weighed a million pounds and when her eyes fluttered opened the room spun a little. She rolled over with a grunt to be met with a foot on the pillow next to her. She sat up, wincing at the way her body ached with each movement to see Keith passed out in the opposite direction, head at the foot of the bed, arm dangling over the side. Her mouth tasted like a myriad of things that should never be mixed together.

She went to run a hand through her current bird’s nest of hair when the glint of sunlight off of something sparkly on her hand caught her eye. She held her left hand in front of her face, staring eye-to-eye with a diamond ring. Her blue eyes grew and she immediately looked to Keith who was still fast asleep.

Not wanting to wake him, not wanting to panic just yet, she carefully threw back the sheets to see she was in her bra and underwear and said underwear had a few twenty and hundred dollar bills tucked in the side. Her breath quickened as she pulled out the money, inspected it then put it on the nightstand. She slipped out of bed, stepping over a very tight white mini dress, heels and a veil.

“No no no no please god no” she whispered as she tip toed over to Keith and knelt down to his hanging hand. Sure enough, a silver band on his left ring finger.

Allura clamped a hand over her mouth before quickly running to the bathroom and locking herself in.

“Shit shit shit shit shit! What did we do?!” she hissed to herself as she paced back and forth in front of the mirror and that’s when she saw it in the reflection. Her mouth fell open as she stared at a white lion tattoo with flowers going up the side of her ribs. There was also a lopsided flower crown in her hair.

The squeak that left her throat was so high pitched only dogs could’ve heard it and her hand was back over her lips to stifle a scream that was begging to get out.

Allura quickly ran out of the bathroom, passed a still conked out Keith and ran into the living room of their shared suite where she nearly tripped over Lance who was asleep on the floor. He had on black slacks, no shirt, no shoes, a bow tie around his neck, a regular tie around his head and a blue lion tattooed on his back. There was also money stuffed in the waistband of his pants. He was curled up with one of the couch cushions and had a room service menu in his hand. The room was a mess.

“Lance! Lance!” Allura shook him. “Lance, get up!”

“Just five more minutes mom…” he grumbled and shooed her away.

She slapped his back, right on the fresh tat and he lurched up.

“The hell Lu?!” He growled before looking her up and down. She still hadn’t put clothes on.

“Uh look Allura I know I had a crush back in the day but I’m with Pidge now.”

“Oh would you shut up!” She slapped his arm. “What the hell happened last night?!”

Lance pursed his lips as he thought. His mind was completely blank.

“Honestly I’m not sure.”

“I think Keith and I got married last night!” she whined, showing him the ring.

“Oh shit! And you got a tattoo!” He pointed.

“So did you.”

Lance leapt up and went to look in the decorative mirror by the door.

“Ohhh….” He blinked at it a few times. “Pidge is gonna kick my ass.”

“Why would I do that?” Pidge sluggishly trotted out from the opposite bedroom rubbing her eyes.

She stopped and stared at them, at their current state. They stared back in shock.

“What the hell is going on?” she snapped.

“We could ask the same” Allura replied.

Somehow Pidge hadn’t noticed until Allura pointed it out that she was wearing a white short sleeveless wedding dress with a tiara and attached veil stuck in her hair, a green lion posing fiercely on her arm. She looked down at herself, then Lance then simultaneously they looked at their hands. At least drunk Pidge had the sense to pick out a decent ring. She lowered her hand slowly.

“Did we…”

“Yeah.”

“My parents are going to murder me.”

“Not if they don’t murder me first” Lance replied.

“If it makes you feel better…” Keith was now in the doorway showing off the ring on his finger.

His hair was sticking out everywhere. He had on a black vest but no shirt, showing off the red lion on his chest, and boxer briefs. One of his feet was bare, the other tucked in a black cowboy boot.

They met in the middle of the room and flopped down on the couch.

“What. The actual fuck. Happened last night?” Keith stated, face still in a state of disbelief.

“The last thing I remember was chugging those mai tais at that tiki bar.” Pidge’s eyes narrowed as she tried to remember.

“Then what did we do after that?” Allura tapped her finger to her lips.

The four thought, hard, and as if on cue the memories seemed to rush back to them all at once.

*FLASH*

“Would you like to order The Golden Swan? It’s $100 but it comes in a giant gold swan with four straws and contains light and dark rum, vodka and champagne as well as fruit juices!” The waitress smiled as she rattled off the ingredients.

The four looked at each other, unsure.

“Fuck it, it’s Vegas, let’s do it.” Keith acquiesced and slammed the money down on the table. The other three cheered.

*FLASH*

“Let it ride!” Pidge screamed while pointing at the enormous stack of chips on the table, cocktail in hand as Lance rubbed her shoulders.

The dealer nodded and spun the roulette wheel. They waited in anticipation as it slowed.

“32, black!”

Everyone cheered. Lance picked up Pidge and spun her around, spilling her drink everywhere.

“We’re rich bitches!” Allura threw her hands in the air.

“Always bet on black baby!” Keith patted Pidge on the back.

*FLASH*

“Look at them, they’re so sparkly.” Allura cooed in slurred speech at the jewelry in the window.

Keith came and held her from behind.

“One day I’m going to buy one of those for you” he said pointing at the rings.

“Really honey?” She spun around and kissed him, albeit sloppily.

“Mhm” he murmured against her lips as they made out.

“Why wait, we got money!” Pidge pulled the bills out of her purse and fanned them out.

“Man, I love you guys and you guys love us and Keith loves Allura and I love Pidge and why don’t we just fucking get married.” Lance hiccupped as threw an arm around Pidge’s neck, teetering back and forth.

“Yeah let’s just get fucking married” Keith repeated into Allura’s mouth between kisses.

“LET’S FUCKING GET MARRIED!” Pidge yelled waving the cash in the air.

*FLASH*

“Allura…baby…you’re the yee to my haw and darlin’ I love you.” Keith mumbled in a southern twang that had come completely out of nowhere as he slid a ring onto her finger. The cowboy hat on his head was slipping off as he attempted to stand up straight.

*FLASH*

“Pidge…Katie…Katie Kat, Kitty Baby, Katherine Holt. You’re short, but you’re also like really hot and smart and you make me smile and I’m glad we’re doing this.” Lance rambled on, a red blushy mess as he slipped on her ring, missing a few times before getting it right.

*FLASH*

Each couple kissed in some 24-hour chapel in front of a man dressed like Elvis. And old lady played the wedding march on an organ nearby. They were allowed to have a polaroid that counted as their wedding pictures for the low low price of $9.99.

*FLASH*

“I would look so cool with a tattoo” Keith uttered in passing as they staggered past a tattoo parlor, the neon lights from the shop glowing on their faces.

“You would look so incredibly sexy.” Allura growled as she ran her hands over his chest.

“Yeah?” His brow arched as he leaned into her kiss.

“Yeah…” she giggled as they succumbed to their 87th make out session of the evening.

“Man, I love you guys and you guys love us and Keith loves Allura and I love Pidge and why don’t we just fucking get tattoos” Lance suggested, carrying Pidge piggy back style as he swayed back and forth.

“Yeah let’s get tattoos” Keith seconded before his tongue was too busy attacking Allura’s face.

“LET’S FUCKING GET TATTOOS!” Pidge whooped making it rain with their newly acquired funds.

*FLASH*

“Oh you’re back!” The waitress smiled as she approached the table.

“We would like another golden goose please.” Allura smiled as she pushed a hundred dollar bill across the table.

“Golden swan baby.” Keith giggled.

“Golden pigeon” Pidge corrected.

“You’re my golden pidgeon.” Lance cupped her face.

“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me…” her eyes welled up with tears.

“I love you and I’m so lucky you’re my wife.” Lance said before practically tackling her in the booth.

*FLASH*

“Lu what the hell are you doing?” Pidge asked and everyone turned around.

Allura walked out of the bar and onto the street carrying the giant gold swan like a baby, still drinking out of it with one of the remaining long looping straws. Her heels scrapped against the concrete as she staggered back and forth.

“What? I paid for it, I’m taking it home” she stated belligerently and took another sip.

“Baby you paid for the drink inside. The swan belongs to the bar.” Keith tried to reason with her.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you just stole” Keith said with a chuckle.

Allura lips formed a pout as she thought it over.

“CHEESE IT!” she yelled suddenly bolting down the street, veil whipping back and forth, drink sloshing around.

“I’m not going back to jail!” Lance blurted out and took off as well.

“You’ve never been to jail idiot!” Pidge screamed and ran after him.

*FLASH*

“Oh my…” Allura placed a hand on her chest as all the events from the night before came flooding back. She looked at the swan on the coffee table and cringed.

“I can’t believe we did all that…” Pidge muttered, the color draining from her face.

“What do we do now?” Keith blinked a few times. He might have been the unspoken leader of the group but this was one instance where he was completely baffled.

“Well I dunno about you but I could use some brunch.” Lance chimed in.

Everyone turned to Lance with looks that could kill. Pidge hurled a pillow at him.

“We got completely obliterated, got married, got tattoos, Allura committed a misdemeanor theft and all you can say is ‘let’s go to brunch’?!” Keith snapped.

Lance paused.

“I think better when I’ve eaten?”

Keith almost lunged at him when Allura caught her boyfr- no husband by the wrist.

“Actually darling, brunch sounds amazing. Then we can sit and decide what to do.” She smiled up at him weakly.

Keith’s shoulders slumped.

“Yeah let’s go get brunch.” He sighed.

“Welp…all right,” Pidge shrugged in defeat, yanking the tiara off her head while simultaneously pulling a stack of cash out of the cleavage of her dress, “let’s fucking get brunch.”

AO3 LINK

#plance #kallura #plancekalluraweek2018 #ficsbyKIC

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talesofealdancynedom · 3 years

Photo

Emilia’s Epilogue stage costume. For all your pink, magical girl, magician inspired needs; Vanilla romance never tasted so sweet.

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (chapter 6 - Card Tricks 6/8 ) part 6. Stories of wizards

none

Spells that transform, or enchanted objects, and perhaps potions that heal; These are fascinating and useful types of magic. But there is also simple charming magic; When the impossible, entertains. With the flick of the wrist, and the performance of a lifetime, a crowd of people can be brought to laughter. Meet the magician: Someone absorbed in their wonder, thus sharing it with others. By simply believing, they can make anything exist or disappear, in a flash. This is the type of magic Emilia used. Where she’s from, it wasn’t fairies that made eyes sparkle, it was card tricks, mirrors, and a little bit of charisma. Emilia loved a good show. She wanted to perform on a stage some day. Emilia was stubborn, well natured, confident; And when it came to magic, absolutely silly. Furthermore, she was encouraged by her family. Emilia was obsessed since youth, and ran from home; Just to dazzle before a crowd of people. Emilia was everything Morgan wasn’t. Except for the magic part. They both loved that part. Soon, as their paths crossed, and they loved each other just as much.

When Morgan ran away, he found himself on quite the journey home. More importantly, he met the most adorable girl he had ever seen. Though, he hadn’t seen many girls. Morgan was a total shut in. He was so scared of saying the wrong thing and getting rejected, he never approached people. Emilia’s ambiance, made him feel warm though. As time went on, he became more and more comfortable around her. Emilia was the first human he trusted with his dreams and emotions. Nothing compared to Emilia; Everything she did made his day a little brighter.

But Emilia’s magic was different. Her magic shows weren’t intriguing, like the magic Morgan knew. It was small gimmicks, that made him giggle. Emilia’s cheesy lines, as she pulled things out of her cuffs, seemed so ridiculous. Something other then fey, was giving him joy. Emilia said his laugh was cute. Morgan wasn’t aware he was giggling, and suddenly became verry self conscious about it. It made Emilia like him more. She hated most boys. But Morgan wasn’t trying anything; He just had an obvious crush, with no expectations of requited love. He was sweet, quiet, and happy to be friends. The way he sparkled around magic, made her really feel like a proper magician. Emilia had met someone who understood, that not giving up on your dreams, and being led by passion, is valid. She was falling for his company. Even if Emilia’s magic as a magician wasn’t marketable anywhere outside her home, she as a person, was marketable to this wizardly boy. Emilia wanted to be above love; But two runaways spending a year together, can really build a relationship quickly.

Emilia was surprised to be summoned into Leo’s office. She petted Dolly, then placed her on Leo’s desk. Dolly thanked Emilia for the snuggles, while Leo grimaced. It’s bad taste to just touch someone’s familiar. Emilia didn’t even touch Icarus; But Dolly was a big kitty, and Emilia forgot it was sharing sensations with a student counsellor. Emilia, took a seat. She was jittery, as she had no clue because she was there. Out of all the teens facing adversity, Emilia was the most put together. Probably because she faked so much confidence, and trust in her magicianly performances, she started being that way all the time. Or maybe it was because Emilia knew reality was malleable for her, as a magician. Thoughts instantly became reality. If she believed there was a pink velvet staircase with a spotlight on her as she sang, there was. The only reason brooding wizards liked Emilia’s magic, was the same as Morgan; Performance. The way she used magic was so surprising, that it made the most experienced wizard laugh at its audacity. Leo liked her shows. The bad puns, pink, sequins, dancing, cards, and mirrors, was too adorable to resist.

“Why am I here? This isn’t about me being knocked up; Because I have a support network and-” Emilia said, interrupting Leo’s train of thought.

“No, no. I’m talking to people who are have relationships with Morgan. I’m securing his support network. How would you say your relationship is with him? Or more, his with you?” Leo asked.

“We turned out to be true loves; Cursing us with an undying love spell, even though we have one more year of school left. Personally, I have no complaints. He provides cuddles, encouragement, we share everything, practice magic together, do laundry for each other. Yeah, best happily ever after I never saw coming.” Emilia rambled.

“That’s amazing; I can’t even imagine him laughing, never mind cuddling someone. You both really love each other to the point of literal enchantment? Even though you’re so young?”

“The spell worked, didn’t it?” Emilia smiled. “I got an anklet as proof; Love magic requires genuine human attachment to perform, right?” She continued. Leo was fascinated. Morgan had somehow gone from being completely alone, to having all the relationships he needed; Yet Emilia seemed to be the only one, aside from Morgan’s friend Amadeus, that got a peep out of him. Even Uncle Cetus, and his teachers found Morgan silent outside of magic exposé.

“He opens up to you; I want to know how you did that. He’s frustratingly quiet. It’s a barrier to treatment. Medication and skills mean nothing, if he can’t access help in his environment as well. Non-magic related help. I believe his obsession is maladaptive.”

“If you want my honest opinion, I would say I got to know him by being myself. He was so bruised, and quiet when I first met him. So, I went with him on his awesome quests, and treated him like a person. It evolved into us bonding over the magic we were held back from, and the ball kept rolling.” Emilia shrugged. She was so confused why Leo was asking such nonsense.

“Maybe if you want to get to know someone shy, you should take your time? Ask them about things they get excited about? Bond over a commonality or tragedy. Here! Try it with me!” She exclaimed, pulling a hat from her sleeve, and flipping it into a bouquet of fabric flowers. Leo laughed on impulse. Unfortunately, Leo had already tried Emilia’s suggestion. Though it let him learn about Morgan’s past, it didn’t say anything about his present. Leo needed more in order to refine Morgan’s treatment.

“I’ve been trying that for weeks. In order to get him to talk about feelings, I had him to bring some meaningful things, and he showed me a wagon. Do you know what the wagon is for? As a seer, Morgan is prone to tangents. I was told a very long story, and then another. All monotone and barely audible. He was tense the entire time.” Leo said.

“Sounds about right. The dumb wagon is for quests. Obviously. Takes it to the shadow veil, even though he can summon things. Does it every time he visits his beast kings. All of it makes sense when you think about it. I think it cute he always puts in the extra mile.” Emilia smiled. “Though, this year he hasn’t had as much time for fey anymore. Between finishing school, adoption, constant quests, and mage hunting wizards, I get scared he might break. He’s brave when it comes to facing bullies and magic, but when its ordinary people, he freezes. He’s made friends, sure; But there is still a wall. I also wish I knew what to do to help him. But I know better then to fix a broken tea cup, as his partner. That’s your job.” She explained. Leo slouched into his chair.

“One more question, then. Off the books. Its about you this time. I want to see why he likes his polar opposite. So, you have magic unlike anything in this world. It’s charming, and exclusively aimed at humans. Why do you like it to the point you would runaway to show it to people?”

“Because I get to be paid to be silly; That doesn’t sound awesome too you? To smile together with a bunch of people for a living?” Emilia said. “That’s how I escape, Master Greenwood. When I say ‘ladies and gentlemen!’ I know I’m about to have a good time.” Emilia laughed. Just as Morgan, she had that sparkle at the thought or discussion, of magic. This satisfied Leo a little.

“Alright, how about what you hate?”

“Nothing, anymore. I used to be so stubborn and reactive. Then I realized even if things change, I’s still myself. Even if I go back to school, or fall in love and have a kid, the stage still awaits, and I can still be happy.” Emilia chimed. She had done it; mindful inner peace. Leo sure wished his wand could cast that enchantment.

<---PREVIOUS

#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #story 21 #fantasy #short stories #emilia #morgan #icarus #dolly #leo

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milquetoast-on-acid · 6 years

Text

Sharon & Andy's Wedding, A Meta Shandy post

What this meta is about: Windows & Doors The Weddings There was Fashion... There was Music... There was Bantering... There was Love...

Windows and Doors

Remember that little thing I talked about in my Meta on Shandy's Proposal about windows and doors?

Oh look...there's another door.

It's a amazing entrance for the bride. They way she's lit. In the words of Tony "like an angel". That door is the final barrier separating Sharon from Andy and it's finally open to him. That damn door he's been wanting to open for years. I think they picked these two usher's deliberately because of how much they look like Ricky and Rusty from the back.

The Weddings

Lets talk a minute to talk a bit about each of the weddings featured on The Closer and Major Crimes. Each wedding was different and each wedding was unique to the character's personalities.

Brenda & Fritz Brenda and Fritz's wedding was the smallest. There were only three people in attendance. The most important people in Brenda and Fritz's lives, Brenda's parents and Fritz's sister. It was beautiful but I had to wonder why they spent so much time decorating, if they weren't going to have anyone at the wedding. Might have made more sense if they had their reception where they got married but they ended up having it at their house.

Having a teeny tiny wedding and Brenda wearing her mother's wedding dress. Really makes sense for her character. On the outside Brenda may seem warm and friendly but she really keeps people at arms length. Even her squadmates, who she ends up telling them that she loves them.

Louie & Patrice What surprised me was how much Provenza wanted a huge wedding. He was like Go big or go home. And that it was Patrice that wanted a small quiet wedding. From what little we see of Patrice, I get the feeling that she's not afraid to spend money. She redid Provenza's house and she talks about wanting Provenza to retire so they can travel. So I really loved the role reversal here. I do think that when Provenza looks back on his wedding. Once he's down from that love high. It was exactly the wedding of his dreams. It was secular and small. Beautiful with all of his closest family.

Sharon & Andy As we learn in Bad Blood, Sharon really wanted a church wedding. And we all know that Andy is into big grand gestures. He wanted to propose to Sharon on a special trip to Napa and then out to dinner at Serve (where they had their first real date). This is about as big and grand of a wedding as you can get without being a royal wedding. And out of all of the weddings, this one really focuses on family. Sharon also as we know loves celebrations and weddings.

As much as it was a celebration of Sharon and Andy's love. It was also a celebration of Family. Family is a hugely important thing to both of them and family plays a huge part in this episode as well as the wedding. They surround themselves with their family on their wedding day. Not just the Raydor/Flynn/Beck family but also their squad mates who they both think of as extended family. When Andy had no one else, he had Provenza and his squad mates. And in another comparison to Brenda. Sharon who initially seems cold and distant, is someone that gets attached to people very easily. While the squad was always a bit of family it's not until Sharon's leadership that they really feel like a true family.

Something that I really loved about this wedding was the emotion. This wedding hands down is the most emotional wedding. All of the bridesmaids (with the exception of Andrea) are full on crying. Even Mason is teary eyed when he's talking to Page and he hasn't been part of the squad for that long. And both the bride and groom are having a hard time keep in together.

There was fashion...

The Guests

What the hell is Gus wearing!? Seriously Gus always had style but then he shows up in this---I don’t even know what color this is? Brown, Maroon, Ron Burgundy thing.

A lot of people have talked about the missing guests. Including Andy's family, I had hoped for a mention of them (at the very least) but unfortunately we didn't get it. I would have thought that Fritz would have been there at the very least because Jon Tenny is still very involved with the show. Another person that I wanted to be here that I don't think anyone has talked about is. Doctor Joe, I don't see him at all. I understand he's more involved with Rusty but still, would have liked to have seen him.

Interesting that all of the extended gang (Morales, Kendell, Mason and Page) are all sitting on Andy's side. While Gus is sitting on Sharon's side.

The Color Purple When Sharon and Andy were sending out their invitations to the wedding or the engagement party (still not sure which). They were sending them out in mint green envelops and that surprised me as I had always thought that Sharon and Andy's color would be purple. Given how much that color has played a huge role in their relationship.

Not only is purple a mixture of Sharon's (blue) and Andy's (red) personalities. But it is a color that they wear quite frequently and it is the very first color they were matched with way back in The Closer days.

The Groomsmen When they filmed the wedding, some of the photos that had been posted on FB and Instagram made the groomsmen's ties look black. So I had to wonder what is different about Andy's suit. And it wasn't until the wedding that it was clear they were purple to match the bridesmaids dresses. I loved that shot of them all lining up after Sharon steps up next to Andy. Loved seeing how Ricky's tie was different from the rest of the groomsmen and that he went to the groomsmen instead of the bridesmaids.

The Bridesmaids I love the bridesmaids dresses. Kind of thought for Sharon's wedding they would have floor length dresses but I do think that the length actually suits the personalities of the women. Not to mention that they all look fablious in them.

The Groom As handsome as Andy does look in his suit. I think I would have liked him in a vest. It's been years since he's worn one but he looks pretty sexy in them. I like that Andy went for something that wasn't your typical tux. He choose something that was very simple but elegant. Which is very line line with Sharon's style. I had also thought that the only distinguishing thing on his suit was the white calla lily but it turns out that the groomsmen’s ties were purple.

The Bride Much like everyone else's reactions. I've got mixed feelings about it. I did not look at the photographs posted of her dress before the wedding. The only glimpse of the dress I got was when people openly posted the dress and I looked away as fast as I could.

I'm going to talk about what I don't like about the dress first. The veil. I did not expect Sharon to wear a veil. We never see Sharon wearing hats or headbands or anything in her hair. So I was a bit surprised by it. The only way I could see Sharon wanting a veil is due to how damned traditional it is. I don't like it and I don't think that it was needed. The short sleeves and the belt, I also thought were not needed. I felt the short sleeves were a weird choice and makes for a strange transition into the lace sleeves.

Onto what I did like about the dress. Everyone knew there had to be lace in that dress somewhere. And so I really liked that the sleeves where lace. I think the dress would have been better if the sleeves transitioned into lace without them sticking out the way they did. If it had been a straight transition. The dress was the perfect length for her. It did not have the typical train, and I thought it looked better from the back. Sharon's boobs also looked pretty good in that dress. NO GLASSES! As often as Sharon wears her damned glasses I had HOPED that she wouldn't wear them down the aisle. And thank goodness she didn't. Mary has such beautiful eyes it is a shame that the show always covers them up.

There was bantering...

Rusty & Mark

Turns out that Rusty and Mark are Sharon and Andy's ring bearers. It's a rather interesting choice to have these two in this role. Both of the boys are adopted sons of members of the squad. And I really love how the bantering between the two is very sibling like. Very heartwarming to see Rusty helping out Mark in a rather affectionate way. Six years ago Rusty wouldn't have the patience to big brother Mark. Mark on the other hand is just like your typical kid in a wedding. Ready for it to be over and ready for cake.

Just noticed that the two of them have matching ties.

Rusty guiding Mark into position, is the cutiest thing. Mark is just like a little Rusty. These two have so much in common. Their stubborn nature, their obvious love for their adopted parent, their clear need to be loved. Mark can really learn a lot from Rusty. And now I feel that Rusty has finally matured into a wonderful young man. That he can guide him and teach him things that only Rusty can understand having been adopted and also having had a really screwed up childhood.

The Bridesmaids Amy getting scolded for not being quite ready. Andrea complaining that she's had enough of weddings (and that it will last her a lifetime) and she will in no shape or form ever get married. Emily so ready for Mr or Mrs Right. Amy not thinking that Sharon's going to go through with the very typical tradition of the bouquet throwing. While Patrice has no doubt that Sharon's going to follow every single wedding tradition.

From the wedding I had been surprised by the order of the bridesmaids. I had envisioned them backwards from what they ended up being. I had no doubt that Emily would be the maid of honor. And I thought that Sharon was closer to Andrea than she was to Patrice. Which really makes me think that Sharon and Andy spend a hell of a lot of time with Provenza and Patrice. And Patrice's little line about how Sharon will throw the wedding bouquet really goes to show you just how well she knows her. I can see the two of them having so much in common and I'd really love to see more of this friendship.

There was music...

Ave Maria by Franz Schubert

Ave Maria is such a beautiful piece of music. It's iconic, it's classic and a traditional catholic prayer. It's absolutely gorgeous and just the right piece of music for Sharon's walk down the aisle. I'm also very glad that it wasn't the boring and very typical wedding march. It would not have fit for Sharon and Andy.

Not a day goes by Stephen Sondheim sung by Olivia Mell First of all I had never heard Olivia sing. She's got such a beautiful voice and I think they really picked the right singer for this. I'd also never heard the song before. So after having looked up the correct lyrics I do think they fit for our couple. The lyrics talk about how a person comes into their life and things are going really great. But their waiting for that shoe to drop and for the relationship to end but it doesn't. Instead these two people get closer and as their lives become more entwined, the more it becomes clear that they can't live without the other.

It makes me think of when Sharon and Andy first told Taylor about their relationship. And Andy said that if things don't work out between them they'd just go back to being really great friends.

I think as their relationship has gotten deeper. I think that the depth of their feelings for the other has just become clearer and clearer to them. In my opinion, Andy has been in love with Sharon since season 3, episode 1. When he said that he would wait for her. But I don't think he was aware then that he was in love with her. I think it was something he realized sometime before they started dating for real. He definitely knew he had feelings for her for sure but not the depth of them.

Sharon on the other hand is harder to pin down because of just how much she holds inside of herself. Sharon was surely the one that's had to catch up to where Andy's been at in their relationship. In my opinion she fell for him before they started dating. With her realizing it when he got injured by the car and both of them being too scared to tell the other. To now both of them couldn't have been more clear in that ILY scene just what the other means to them.

There was love...

Much like with Provenza's wedding, each major love story get's its tiny moment.

Rusty and Gus Rusty has been trying for who knows how long to get into contact with Gus and finally decided to end it with a letter. Lo and behold Gus, shows up looking very sad, realizing what he threw away. The moment is full of awkward. And at this point in the story I have to say. I think it's time these two broke up. I think this is a couple, despite how they may feel about each other. That just has too many obstacles between them.

I do think that Gus was really good for Rusty for a while. He did push him to appreciate people's time more and that is a lesson that Rusty needed to learn. But after so long shit just got in the way. And how I feel it's time to part ways. Kudos for Rusty for being the bigger man and sending Gus a letter letting him know it's okay and I don't blame you.

Luckily, Dad noticed the moment. Hopefully he will talk to Rusty later.

Julio and Mark Mark is still being his normal stubborn self. Not listening to anymore. But Julio looks at the boy like the sun rises in his eyes. He's a proud papa who's finally found the love he's so desperately needed. There is so much about this episode that talks about how you have to faith that everything will turn out the way that it's supposed to in the end.

It makes me think about what if Julio did not have Mark in his life before his mother died. Julio's mother being (what I think is the last of Julio's family) to be alive. Julio wouldn't have been alone because he's got his work family. But because Julio is such a sensitive emotional soul. It may be something that could have sent him spiraling. The way his wife's death sent him into a very angry spin. It makes me think that Mark came into Julio's life in just the right time.

Julio you know he's only doing it to get your attention.

Andy and Provenza "How do I look?" "Better than Usual." We can't forget our epic bromance. In which everyone thought that Flynn and Provenza would die as two single bachelors with only the other to share their life with. I would love for Brenda to come back and learn that the two of them are now both married men. To the two women that she never would have expected either of them to marry.

Andy is nervous and looks to Provenza a few times during the ceremony for some words of encouragement. And with everything emotional thing that happens between the two of them. Humor is their weapon they both use to defuse tough moments. It works the first time and the second time, Andy looks to Provenza for encouragement. Provenza gives him a nice heartfelt pat on the back. Giving his approval and telling Andy, you've got this.

Provenza and Patrice A very emotional Patrice sends her husband a kiss. Even Provenza gets choked up. These two are so freaking cute and there's no doubt that this wife is the one and that she's here to stay.

Sharon, Ricky, Emily and Andy "It's never been so full." I love the little conversation that the two of them have walking down the aisle. Ricky asks how her heart is doing. In a typical semi-humorous manner. Sharon's answer hits you straight in the gut at just how happy she is, to finally make her whole family complete. Mary has talked a lot about where Sharon has been (emotionally) during her relationship with Andy. That she didn't need a man and she didn't need to marry him either. But the thing that struck me was when she said that she wouldn't marry any man but Andy.

It is such a bittersweet moment because there is this ever looming specter of death that seems to be following Sharon. And both Emily and Ricky are feeling it during this episode and during the wedding. Both kids are so happy that they are able to be here and help give her this wedding. Right after this conversation Ricky has this look...

Earlier we get Emily walking down the aisle with tears streaming down her face just as torn up as Ricky is about Sharon’s illness.

Love seeing Andy shake Ricky's hand right before Ricky goes to stand with the groomsmen. I loved that and thought it was an interesting choice for Ricky to walk Sharon down the aisle and then to stand with the groomsmen. Instead of his standing with the bridesmaids. It really furthers him as a huge Sharon & Andy cheerleader.

Sharon and Andy When they see the other for the first time. Andy completely melts, Provenza may just need to grab his bucket hat to scoop him back up again. I love how Sharon cocks her head and gives him this sweet smile. The smile that is just for him. I love this because it's one of those moments where everyone else falls away and i'ts only the two of them in the room together.

It seems that Andy is not the only nervous one. Sharon takes a huge breathe right before Ricky steps over to her. Once Sharon makes it down the aisle, I love that Andy gives his bride a full once over. Gives her one of his infamous Andy Flynn smiles, his eyes sparkling from emotion.

While Sharon responds with her look of total love and happiness. There's this little thing that she always seems to do with him when she's overcome with emotions. She pushes herself towards him and then realizes just how giddy she is and holds herself back. She's also done this in Blackout when Andy tells her about the severity of his injuries.

What could have been improved on: The beautiful emotional wedding could have been longer. We could have seen the two of them actually get married. Someone around the fandom mentioned it could have all been done in silence with just Ave Maria playing and I think that would have been perfect. I would have liked for the wedding to have ended with a shot of both Sharon and Andy, instead of a shot of Sharon. We get a shot of both of their reactions at FINALLY coming to this point. And then a shot of both of them looking at each other.

What do I love about this wedding?

It's BIG with groomsmen and bridesmaids. Which we have never had at a TC or MC wedding. Flowers AF. And this was the most emotional wedding. Everyone was crying or choked up. I think Andrea is the only bridesmaid that didn't cry. The Bride and Groom were both on the verge of tears several times. Even Provenza looked like he was choking back some. This was a very wonderful payoff for this relationship that has been culminating for years. For something like this to actually have happened and for us to get a glimpse of it.

Both Sharon and Andy are so in love with the other. And are both so happy to be getting married. Andy has always been two steps ahead of Sharon in their relationship. Now they are at the same place in their relationship, Sharon has finally caught up to him. Neither of them had ever thought they would get married again. Andy was a bachelor coasting through life. Sharon was married but separated and had been living an independent life for nearly 30 years. But it was only the other one they were ever going to change their life for.

#major crimes #shandy #sharon raydor #andy flynn #sharon and andy's wedding #meta shandy #meta #mc meta #mc anaylsis #a very shandy wedding #the wedding

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lesmiserablesfashions · 7 years

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Do you have any information about riding habits of the time?

by a fun coincidence, i was just looking up riding habits earlier today!

riding habits were pretty fun garments! they’d all of course depend on the style of the specific time (i’m not sure what exact period you’re looking for? naturally these styles varied a lot between decades). in general, though, they were probably most notable in how decidedly masculine they were. apparently even though women’s dressmaking had been taken over by woman tailors around 1700, the riding habit was so masculine in style historically that women didn’t begin making or designing them until the 1810s! and even then, they were still less than feminine.

the basis of the outfit was a fitted jacket over a long skirt, normally made of sturdy wool. take this example:

^this particular one is a professional reproduction of an 1810 one used in a movie. so it’s outside of our era and all, but it’s the best example showing the separated jacket and skirt i can find right now. it has the skirt and the bodice sewn together, but others were just the skirts with suspender-like things holding it up. it’s also neat because unusually, the bodice is the same fabric as the skirt! bodices were usually very plain fabrics, since they wouldn’t be showing at all.

habit shirts, usually muslin or cambric, would go over top of that. they were very similar to men’s shirts, of course, but had a pretty sizable difference in that they were basically crop tops. i haven’t been able to find one from our era, let alone an extant one, which is very annoying, but this reenactor always does a fantastic job! here’s her version of a 1780 habit shirt she’d found:

not exact, but it gives you a general sense of what they were. you see there, it's nearly identical to a man’s shirt but for the fact that it’s cropped beneath the bust and tied in the front. alternatively, some women might wear chemisettes, little sleeveless things intended to make it look like there’s a full blouse there.

the skirts on these things had to be about a third longer than skirts would normally be to avoid indecent exposure while riding -- you can see up there in the first image how they’ve had to pin up the skirt. this was pretty inconvenient for any time you had to get off the horse, though, since you’d have to be hiking your skirt up as you walked. because that was so annoying and inconvenient, many habits had a loop of fabric within the skirt that you could hold on your wrist or attach to a button to hold up the skirt as you walked! very clever. the skirts were also fitted with a loop of fabric near the bottom that a lady could slip her boot through near the stirrup to prevent her skirt from flying up while riding. riding skirts were also much more likely than the average skirt to have pockets! practical, since it’s hard to carry a little handbag while horseback riding.

pic dump:

^ those first two are from 1816, the next from 1817. it’s not a coincidence they were all blue -- around this time blue was by fat the most common color for this stuff you’d see! green was also a solid choice. in france apparently grey and brown were also fairly common, but not in england or america.

thankfully, we got a bit more diversity in color as we headed into the 20s:

this lovely example by this incredibly talented tailor following the style of the first half of the 20s.

^ 1826-1828, 1826, and some unclear time in the 20s.

and then came the 30s! a truly fantastic period

^1832, 1835, and the last 3 photos from some unclear time -- first two probably earlier in the decade, the final one mid to later.

now for accessories!

you’ve probably noticed the hats! in particular, how very manly they tend to be, with a few exceptions. the veils you see tied around the hats would be let down while riding to protect from sunburn and to protect the face from any bits of dirt or mud that might fly up during the ride. once the ride was over, you could wrap them right back around your hat!

gloves were also quite significant here. you could not go riding wearing your nice silk gloves, clearly. instead the fashionable lady would wear fine kidskin gloves in the city. if you were riding around rural areas, though, with less people to impress, you’d be fine with more coarse leather (or possibly even a mismatched habit!)

you can also see some cravats being worn in a few of those examples! yet another masculine thing made okay for women in this one specific situation.

riding crops, too -- since women had to ride sidesaddle, that meant they couldn’t steer the horse (is that the right word for that? idk anything about horses) as easily, so instead had to use a crop as a stand-in for a leg.

so there’s all i’ve got to say on riding habits! hope you enjoyed. anyone who can add something on, please do!

[additional semi-related note: if someone can help me figure out what’s going on with this thing please do. the upper half looks just like a riding jacket, but instead of being a jacket it’s sewn right into the skirt?? like as a bodice??? this mystery is far beyond my level of expertise]

#the clothes you asked for #long post #sorry if some of this is unintelligible i've got a lot of disorganized thinking rn #i try to proofread but that's not always as effective as would be nice #also that weird jacket/dress/who knows is mislabeled by like a decade i'm sure #??????????#martha-laurens

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longforgottenunofficial · 7 years

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Here Comes the Bride, Part Four: Constance, Hat Boxes, and the Meaning of The Attic

(Photo by Jeff Fillmore)

Warning label. We're going to get pretty heavy here before we get light, but you'll get no apologies from me. I happen to believe that people always and everywhere keep talking about the same old things, whether they're writing big, thick theology books or scripts for situation comedies. Stupid jokes or philosophical systems—it doesn't matter. We are all natural born theologians and moralists, and darn it, we just can't help ourselves; everything we discuss with each other echoes into and out from something vast and serious. No matter how trivial and superficial we think we are being, Deep calls to Deep (Ps 42:7). Connie will show up some paragraphs down, but if what goes first is not your cup of tea...well, no doubt there's a blog out there dedicated to hidden Mickeys in the Haunted Mansions. Google, and go in peace. Rest assured that there will be another installment of "Here Comes the Bride" to deal with some of the interesting inspirations for Constance and even some intimations of her future. It's all good. The current incarnation of the attic bride is a unique and ambitious attempt to swell the Mansion's cast of characters and expand and solidify its backstory. No longer is the HM simply a retirement home for ghosts from all over the world, brought here by invitation but getting stuck in the fabric of the house itself until Madame Leota fixes the snag so that they can materialize and start schmoozin' and boozin'. Until now, this basic plot has been the only backstory to the HM that could claim official sanction, and indeed it accords with what the Ghost Host tells you and accounts for most of what you see. But it has never completely covered the phenomena presented. For example, the Ghost Host has a further tie to the house. (The other end is tied to his neck.) What's with that? Was he an owner at one point? That would explain why the hosting duties fell to him, and perhaps the retirement home idea was his, but it suggests that the house had its own haunted history before that. The other thing that suggests a previous history is the attic. Attics are places of concealment, of hidden horrible secrets. Moreover, the attic has always functioned as the asterisk on the big Marc Davis joke. The first thing to do is make it clear what that joke is, because that joke accounts for 90% of the HM. That joke is the broad, firm base from which other, smaller things may deviate. As we saw in an earlier post, at first you think the ghosts are malevolent and out to get you, but it turns out that "they pretend to terrorize" and really don't care about you at all; they just want to get to a state of comfortable materialization so that they can enjoy themselves. Ha ha, the joke's on you: you thought they were hostile, and you were wrong. The point of the joke, the moral of the story, the message of the Mansion, is that fear of death is overblown. That's it in a nutshell. I mean, you really don't know if it's a chamber of horrors on the other side of the veil, do you? No one really knows, right? Perhaps the scary hauntings you hear about are just naughty pranks, perhaps all is forgiven and all is well and everyone's having a jolly good time over there. So long as you don't know which is the case, you might as well take the optimistic view. That's the vision presented to you by Mr. Davis. In his portrait of the afterlife, the executioner and the knight he dispatched are now best buds. There is no revenge, no bitterness, not even any residual hierarchy of power on the other side of the grave—kings and queens are playing like children! Yeah, there are those two duelists still going at it, but it's more a matter of both of them being humorously stuck in a cycle of irresolvable earthly business than a tragic vision of implacable hatred. You almost suspect that they're doing it as a game now. After all, what happens when a ghost shoots a ghost? Is he going to die or something? See? Joke! Ever'body laugh. Without going even deeper than we need to, we might briefly note that there is a certain resonance between this joke and traditional Christian theology, wherein Death is defeated and rendered harmless ("where is thy sting?"), and ultimately the story of the universe is told as a comedy and not a tragedy. In this sense, the Haunted Mansion is simply expressing an optimistic hope firmly rooted in Western culture. "All shall be well." Okay, now the asterisk, now the "yes, but." Equally part of the Western and Christian worldview is the notion that the afterlife is also the place where justice is finally served (it sure as hell ain't on this side of the veil, in case you hadn't noticed). Justice implies judgment, and judgment is bad news for the bad. That happy optimistic vision hopes that enough mitigating circumstances will ultimately be found so that everybody, or almost everybody, gets off, but if the wisdom of the ages is given any weight, there remains a residual pool of those who choose evil without any possible excuse for it and put themselves beyond the reach of even the most generous of post-mortem visions. Disney traffics heavily in traditional fairy tales, correct? You'll note that the villains in fairy tales are often very villainous indeed. It might sometimes be possible to understand them, but you cannot excuse them. They have made their alliance with Death. You cannot redeem them; what you do is, you kill them. In truth, the world of traditional fairy tales is pretty stark and grim, and Disney has always faithfully represented this fact. Fairy tales are also a good place to check out the aforementioned wisdom of the ages. It's not surprising that Davis's warm bath of good feeling has a sober asterisk attached. The HM is just complex enough to give a nodding acknowledgment to this darker truth while celebrating the rosier vision. This could have been accomplished in a number of ways, but the route the Imagineers chose (by intuition—don't ever think I'm claiming that they sat around and thought about all of this consciously), is the detective mystery. What is it that motivates the sleuth in all of those whodunnits? Bringing the criminal to justice. Making sure the guilty party doesn't get away with it. You don't associate Sherlock Holmes with forgiveness, do you? Now ordinarily, writers of detective fiction banish the supernatural from their pages. That's because the readers are supposed to be able to figure out who did it based on clues dropped along the way. If you throw angels and demons and ghosts in there, it spoils the whole thing. No one can reasonably be expected to anticipate a deux ex machina resolution to a mystery. But the reverse is not true: crime and detection are not absent from ghost lore. Too many ghosts busy themselves with revealing where the body is hidden, or where the knife was buried, or by terrorizing the guilty into confessing their crime. These ghosts, at any rate, are not in a forgiving mood. They want justice. In our discussion of the Hat Box Ghost, we showed that the whole attic scene originally was held together by the head-in-a-hatbox symbol, which hails from the world of crime mystery. You're in the attic, which is one of the two places in an old house where horrible secrets and crimes are hidden (the other is the cellar, of course). You see that hatbox, and you have a dreadful suspicion that there's a severed head in it, and when your suspicion is confirmed, you realize you're looking at a murder, and you wonder what happened and who did it. Like a good murder mystery, the attic gives you just enough clues to conclude that the bride is the guilty party, as we saw. What's the Hat Box Ghost up to, anyway? He'sshowing you what happened. Got his noggin whacked off and hidden in a hatbox. The murderer evidently got away with it, but now the victim's ghost has come back to reveal the awful truth to the world. The crime is illustrated before your eyes and it is linked to the bride via the synchronized heartbeat. Very efficient storytelling—this all takes about a second and a half. These guys are GOOD. Note that the question of justice enters in here—you wonder who committed the crime—whereas when you see the knight in the graveyard, who is just as beheaded as the HBG is, you don't ask any such questions. The perp is right there, after all, and neither of them care any more, and you don't even know which was in the right and which was in the wrong. And you don't care either. You regard the two beheading victims in completely different ways. Creepy atmosphere + a hatbox in the attic = bingo, you're in murder mystery land. Oh, all right, I hear those fingers drumming on the tabletop. You've been good, so here. Here's a few more Connie shots by Jeff Fillmore (aka ~Life by the Drop~ at flickr). She's miserably hard to photograph, and I don't know how he does it, but IMO Mr. F. has got the best Connie shots on the Web.

From beginning to end, the attic scene has never been free of the grisly-hatbox symbol. It is just as fundamental as the bride herself. We noted how the two blast-up ghosts were skullish heads popping from hatboxes. They were there from 1969 until 2006. You can go back earlier. Here again is a shot of the scale model, which we've seen before:

Let's pan to the right and see what got cropped out. Well looky there. I see two hatboxes, and one of them is suspiciously isolated. You look inside, I just had dinner.

Next up, some Claude Coats concept art for the attic:

Well, I'm not so sure that it isn't an innocent hatbox in this case. But this is an attic. No doubt something horrid is hidden there. Any guesses where the body is? Possibly the trunk, but if you didn't think, "Maybe walled up in the brickwork of that chimney," you really need to read more books and see more movies. See how it works? They know that you just know these things. When they were kicking around ideas for a New Bride in the mid-2000's, there was a range of ideas put out there for consideration. One widely-reproduced sketch that passes as "concept art for Constance" actually stayed very close to the then-current bride. Still has the candle, still has the beating heart, still has the bouquet, and still has the blank white eyes. Just a coked-up version of the "middle bride," really.

Oh, and if you come across a less-severely cropped version...well whaddya know:

Here's the Frank tableau in the finished make-over at Disneyland:

Nice. And here's a piece of concept art for it. (Nudge nudge: lower left, atbox-hay on the oor-flay).

Just in case you think I'm imagining things, some concept art for Constance throws subtlety to the wind and takes us directly back to Hat Box Ghost territory. Oh, and notice how close this Connie is to the finished character:

Ewww. That'll put you off your Eggs Benedict.

Reportedly, there were plans to put a stack of five hatboxes across from Constance in the HBG's old spot, with the names of her five husbands on them. Hatbox city. One report even suggested that they would light up and glow from within. That didn't happen, but they did put a hat-rack there, with hats on it matching Connie's hubbies in the portraits. Heh heh. When they put Constance into the WDW attic in 2007, they too got a hat-rack, but they also got the stack of hatboxes. No name tags or lights though.

Wouldn't want to be in there on a warm day. Notice the swords laying around. You don't suppose that means anything, do you?

With the grisly-hatbox symbol, you've got CRIME looking for PUNISHMENT. You've uncovered something deliberately hidden. There's a murderer out there somewhere, a score to settle, a vengeance yet denied. Question: How has the attic bride always been different from most of the other ghosts you see? Answer: She's not happy. No socializing for her. Even Constance is only experiencing the lunatic glee of the criminally insane. If you insist on calling it "happy," then it's kind of a Charles Manson happy, you know? I wouldn't say she's happy. She's not forgiven or forgiving, not within the embrace of any resolution. But is justice being served? Well, if she wasn't so utterly wacked-out, she'd realize that she's exposing herself and being exposed. Hattie with his damning heart-beat box is gone, but now we've got five haunted wedding portraits with the husbands' heads disappearing. Those portraits are five ghostly fingers from beyond the grave laying accusation. And yet, those guys aren't happy either, and they don't even get the relief of being too crazy to care. You don't see forgiveness, but you don't see just deserts either. The ghostly revelations inspire no remorse in Connie, and she's suffering no reprisal. Her madness has taken her to a place without punishment, but also without love.

This is a very sour note in the HM, and it may well be a thematic blunder. The Connie addition is seriously flawed. Unlike the knight and executioner, there has not been any post-mortem reconciliation in this case. They're grim ghosts without the grinning part. If there were a way to show the husbands yukking it up with Connie, all of them laughing at the silly fuss their earthly crime drama stirred up, then they'd be part of the Marc Davis all-is-now-well joke. Or, alternately, if the hubbies were allowed to show some sense of satisfaction that at last the murderer has been caught out, putting their spirits to rest, avenging them, giving them something to grin about like the old Hat Box Ghost, then they would fit into the traditional role of the attic as the "justice must be satisfied" asterisk added to the otherwise merry universalism of the Haunted Mansion. As things stand, the message of the attic is, "the Devil wins," however lightly and humorously expressed. Yes, you will survive death and live forever; but no, there is no guarantee that you will find either justice or forgiveness on the other side. That's a common enough stance in modern horror, of course, but it is utterly foreign to the Mansions. Or it was, until May 2006.

Originally Posted: Wednesday, June 2, 2010 Original Link: [x]

#long forgotten #haunted mansion #hatbox ghost #attic bride #constance

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elaeomyxa · 4 years

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*chants* tell me about your oc's! Tell me about your OC's! TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OC's!!!! (only if ya wanna) :3

OK SO

I've already ranted about Sasha here before, so basically I'm just gonna give you the gist of the whole story.

Sasha is a human who gets swept up in this mysterious company where their whole purpose is to stop nightmares. The deal with nightmares is that parasitic entities attach themselves onto various creatures and then feed off of their deepest fears, eventually growing a corporeal form based off of them. The company sorts its workers into groups, where each group's job is to go into the mindscapes of people to fight the nightmares before they can escape. The company is entirely run by sentient non-humans, because humans don't possess the ability to go into people's mindscapes, or see the corporeal forms of nightmares. (The whole workaround for Sasha is that she's not entirely human.) Due to that, humans are kind if discriminated against in the community. The whole reason that Sasha doesn't get found out immediately is that everyone has to hide their identity to work for the company. Anyways, she's found out after she gets hurt during their first assignment, and the others kind of shun her. She ends up striking a deal with an entity from her dreams in order to make herself stronger, but just ends up getting possessed and she disappears. So the rest of the group finds out and then they have to go on an adventure to get back to where they were back before they were staying at the company, because they need to get some sort of memory from their childhood in order to do a spell to release Sasha (they need memories, specifically, for... Plot Reasons). And that pretty much brings us to a place where we can talk about all their backgrounds.

So first is Nix, he's a fire elemental. He's fairly tall, sort of lean and muscular, and mixed black/east asian. He's got half shaved hair in long dreads that fade from red to yellow, and he's missing an arm and half of his face. He's the self proclaimed leader of the group, and is just overall peppy and cheerful. He's still quite smart and capable, though, so it wouldn't be a good idea to underestimate him. He helps others, even if it may be to his detriment, and he was actually the one who had introduced Sasha to the company when he found out that she could see nightmares. The way he hides his identity is with a welding mask. The deal with fire elementals is that they pretty much live with humans, blending in and that jazz. Nix used to live in a small village with his family, when there was a flood that wiped out all but him. He was only able to survive because of his parents sacrificing themselves, so now there's that whole thing with his guilt.

Next is Kai. She's genderfluid, so I use alternating he/she pronouns for him. She's sort of an anarchist, sort of pessimistic, sort of sarcastic, sort of chaotic, and sort of an ass. He's in a love/hate relationship with Nix, though that could change for her. He's a changeling, but ever since the family whose child the fae had used her to replace kicked him out, she's taken on more the appearance of a usual fairy. That is, short, winged, pointy eared, and pink. He's actually got red bug eyes, with two extra ones above each primary eye. She's got blue freckles, and a short pink side shave with a blue streak. The shaved parts actually appear to be a bunch of short, dense flowers. He hides her identity with a ski mask. So basically after he was abandoned, she was homeless.

Next is Apollo. He's an incubus, but kinda decided "fuck that," which has actually been taken pretty well within their society. He's taller than average and has a chubby build and curly ginger hair, always partially tied back. He has yellow eyes, and he's kinda freckled. He's also got horns and a tail, cause, y'know, demon. He's got real bad anxiety, though he's pretty much the only one in the group with any common sense. He really doesn't want to be working for the company, but once he joined he couldn't leave. So now he's pretty exasperated of his team's antics, but he's still nice to them. He hides his identity with a face mask and sunglasses. See, in this ~universe~ succ/incubuses aren't actually that bad. They don't feast off of souls, they just gain energy from getting it on. They can use their power of charm to convince people to do things, but they never actually use it to gain consent if the human wouldn't otherwise. Their whole deal is that they gain energy from sex, and it's not sex if the human doesn't consent. They're actually a lot stricter with that than some people are. They deal with people not wanting to get in the business of sexing people up pretty well, and they always do their best to find alternative ways to get then energy. Since Apollo's away from them, though, he's pretty much tired all of the time. He gets by on human food and such, but he's hardly ever able to do magic and such. He only really left their society as a sort of vacation, but then he got stuck working for the company.

Next is Ari. I'm love her. She's a species, that's for sure. By that i mean I haven't found a name for her species yet, so that sucks. As for appearance wise, her eyes are kind of hard to describe. Ice used the term "forth dimensional googly eye" before, but idk how well that works. Well, just imagine a snowglobe but instead of snow it's jam packed with bunch of eyes of various size, color, and species. Her skin is just a bunch of mottled colors. She's very cold, flat, and inexpressive. She doesn't interact with the others in the team much, but she's fiercely protective. She has a few misfit animals that she rescued from off the street, one of them being a legless calico. Honestly, with the way the cat acts she's not sure if she adopted it or the other way around. She hides her identity with just a huge cloak. She's got chronic pain and a limp, though she hasn't really done anything about this because of the way she was raised. Speaking of that, she's sort of the runaway royalty type. She was born of an affair between the queen and a servant, so she's kind of resented for that. The thing is, her society has a caste system based off of the amount of eyes and markings on skin. The "royalty" are supposed to have one eye and perfectly clear skin, and so Ari's had to learn from a very young age to use glamour to pretend to be that way. But yeah, she's been expected to be perfect for her entire childhood, so that kind of fucked her up.

Lastly, there's Iya. Xe's a bipedal speckled black fox, and has orange yellow eyes. Xe's pretty much the height that a normal fox would be on two legs, so, that is: not very tall. Xe hides their face with a veil on xyr hat. I have yet to add xyr pronouns to my phone's dictionary yet, so that's fun. Anyways, xe's very arrogant, and seems to act like they're royalty. Xe's also pretty repressed due to their childhood, but xe hasn't realized that xyr childhood was bad. Xe was expected to be a fierce warrior pretty much birth, so that means that xe feels llike xe isn't allowed to feel any vulnerability. Xe really cares for xyr teammates, but is afraid to show it.

Ari, Apollo, and Iya have banded together (some more reluctantly than others) to get Kai and Nix together because their constant almost-flirting was pissing them off, so I've started referring to them as the matchmaking crew.

I also am probably really bad at describing them visually, so I might sketch them all later.

#long post #anon i would die for you #also this isn't even all of the story but i feel like if i wrote out the whole thibg that this answer would be novel length

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