#i learned from my last hair post that there is not an insignificant amount of people somewhere between appalled and delighted at miku tsc

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Close” - A Streetlight Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: Soft!Dom Changbin; Light Smut?; Language

Genre: Family AU; Streetlight Sequel

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: She’s like a a new world waiting to be discovered, and Changbin wants to know everything about her. But maybe they could start by moving in together with the rest of his family.

A/N: As you can tell by the song choice title, this is a much more upbeat story! But I love the lyrics that Han wrote 💙

Also, I don’t know what’s up with the gif I chose, but I like it, okay!

On Sundays, Changbin had the rare honor of sleeping through his usual alarm clock - and he decided that noon was an appropriate time to wake-up when his hunger eventually got the best of him. But it was still with great reluctance that he drug himself into the shower, standing beneath the scalding water with his eyes closed to savor the warmth. Ever since Chan replaced the hot water heater, Changbin had done everything in his power to savor the welcoming change.

Afterward, he walked downstairs to greet Jeongin and Y/N who were both sitting at the kitchen table while engaged in a fierce game of battleship. “Hey, you two,” Changbin said, grabbing a piece of toast from a platter on the counter. “What’s going on?”

“A bet,” Y/N said, leaning in across the table to glare at Jeongin. “But he’s cheating.”

“Am not!” Jeongin decried, slamming his hand down on the table. “How can you cheat at this game?”

“Shall I list it out for you?” Y/N asked, and Changbin smirked at her competitive tone.

“Please don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone,” Changbin said, ruffling Y/N’s hair on his way out the door.

He passed by Chan and Minho who were both out on the porch as the two of them studied the broken swing that laid in shambles after Jisung attempted to use it for nefarious purposes. “Should we even bother replacing it?” Chan asked while Minho attempted to adjust the chain with no luck.

“If you do, then Jisung isn’t allowed anywhere near it,” Changbin remarked, looking over the sad remnants of the swing one last time before walking to the SUV waiting in the driveway.

He was only working a short shift that morning, and there was some relief in knowing that he wouldn’t have to deal with persistent customers for longer than a couple of hours. Changbin was convinced that most people simply complained for the hell of it, especially considering the fact that their questions almost always concerned trivial matters. But at least he had gotten better at managing his expressions - doing his best not to betray his annoyance.

There was also something else for Changbin to look forward to this weekend, and it had motivated him more than anything else for the past week: Sara was moving in with the rest of them, and Changbin would no longer have to make special trips out of his way to visit her apartment on the other side of town. It was enough for Changbin to get through anything that might come his way, and he even offered to help one customer carry their packages to their car even though that went above and beyond his current job description. “Thanks for coming,” he told the woman who simply grunted in response.

However, nothing could ruin Changbin’s good mood, especially when he received a surprising visitor during his lunch break. “Hey, you,” he said, greeting Sara with a gentle kiss when she brought them something to eat.

“It’s not much,” she admitted sheepishly, but Changbin was touched regardless. He even made a big show of enjoying the meager offering, keeping their fingers intertwined across the table as Sara talked about one of her most recent projects.

It was decidedly domestic, and Changbin couldn’t wait until he got this on a regular basis. Ever since he met Sara for the first time, he had felt this peculiar insistence to learn everything about her - even the most insignificant details. Because they all mattered to him, and he was slowly falling into an endless void where there never seemed to be enough answers to the constant questions.

“I love you,” Changbin whispered against her sweet lips as they kissed outside in the parking lot. It had only taken Changbin one month into their relationship to admit his truest feelings, and he was relieved to hear Sara reciprocate since he was very much aware that some might consider that much too early to declare such things. And maybe Changbin had never been in love enough to really understand what it meant, but he was willing to take the risk with Sara to figure it out. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Sara said from the window of her car, and Changbin watched her leave before he re-entered the post office with a renewed enthusiasm to leave on time that day.

The next day

When Changbin woke-up that Friday morning, he was momentarily disoriented before he remembered that he had spent the night in Sara’s apartment. He turned his head to the side to admire her sleeping form, grinning at the hold she maintained on his arm as she held him close. Changbin had learned that Sara liked to wrap around him during the night, and it was nothing short of endearing.

But it was also hot in the bedroom, and Changbin gently extracted their limbs before rolling over to the edge of the bed. He ran a hand over his exhausted face before reaching over for his phone. There were a few messages from Chan, but Changbin figured the older was trying to ask his opinion on a new wall paint color.

Instead, Changbin forced himself to leave the comforts of the bedroom for the kitchen where he started making a fresh pot of coffee. Since they were officially moving all of Sara’s things into the house, Changbin wanted to make sure that they got an early start. Based on the number of boxes currently stacked in her living room, it wouldn't be a simple endeavor, and Changbin imagined that it would be well past sundown before everything was finished.

“Good morning.”

Changbin grinned when he reached for two mugs out of the cabinet, spotting Sara emerging from her bedroom with a yawn. “I made us something,” Changbin said, pouring a cup for Sara and placing it down at her spot near the counter.

“Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I think we both need it for today,” Changbin said with a smile, brushing a soft kiss across the pout of her lips.

“Ugh, it’s not that I’m not excited,” Sara said. “But I’m also not impressed with the idea of dragging all my shit in the cars.”

“That’s what you have me for,” Changbin said with a wink, carefully rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to flex his bicep.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Sara teased him, squealing in delight when Changbin retaliated by pulling her into his lap.

“It’s your last day in this place,” Changbin remarked, humming in delight when Sara made herself comfortable against his chest. 

“It’s also our third month anniversary,” Sara revealed to him, and Changbin arched an eyebrow in consideration.

“Should we have chosen a different day to move?” 

“Actually, I think it’s perfect that we’re doing it today,” Sara said. “What does the rest of your family think?”

“I guess it’s something different,” Changbin said. “They might ask you a thousand questions.” Changbin rolled his eyes at the idea of their antics, but Sara didn’t seem at all bothered by the possibility.

“Is everyone at home?”

“Minho and Chan will be late,” Changbin said. “They couldn’t afford to take the day off from work.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Sara said. “We’ll manage with our limited options.”

Changbin chuckled, reaching out with one hand to grab his coffee cup, wondering if he’d ever get used to mornings like this with the person he loved. Would anything change after they moved in together? “I want you to know that you can always come to me,” Changbin said. “My family can be a handful, and I’m not gonna be offended or anything if they get on your nerves.”

“Changbin,” Sara said, tilting his head to the side to meet her steady gaze. “Everything will be fine.”

Changbin nodded, leaning in for another kiss because there was no better way to reassure himself than by tasting the sweet chap-stick on her lips.

Graciously, the weather was mild when Changbin and Sara pulled into the driveway outside of his house, and Changbin rolled his eyes to see everyone already gathered on the front line in a perfect formation - like they were soldiers awaiting orders. “You’re late,” Hyunjin said, impatiently tapping his foot against the grass.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Changbin said, shutting the door to his SUV as he went around to open the trunk. 

“She’s here!” Jisung gasped, and Changbin winced as he imagined his younger friend bombarding Sara with his endless chattering.

“Be nice,” Changbin warned him, and he started arranging boxes on the sidewalk - pleased to see Y/N take control of the situation and grab two of them between her arms before walking towards the house.

The others followed suit, even though Jisung was keeping a close eye on Sara who stretched her arms once she opened the door of her car. “Welcome home,” Changbin said, but he immediately regretted the words when he recognized how cheesy they sounded.

But Sara only laughed in response. “I see you’ve already ordered everyone to start working.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jisung chirped, even as he fumbled back against the side of Changbin’s SUV under the weight of the boxes he was balancing.

Thankfully, Jisung managed to find his footing long enough to adjust his heavy load, rushing into the house behind Seungmin while Y/N walked back outside. In the brief amount of time that Sara had been apart of his life, he was amazed to see how close the two had become. It all started when Changbin agreed to entertain Y/N’s suggestion of a double date with Minho, and Changbin was completely unprepared to discover that Sara and Y/N had a lot more in common than he initially perceived. They talked for the entirety of their dinner reservations, and Y/N insisted on riding home with Changbin and Sara even though Minho wasn’t happy to lose her company.

Nevertheless, it also made Changbin incredibly happy to see the two of them getting along so well, and Sara opened her arms wide for an eager Y/N who returned the embrace with a smile. “How’s school?” Sara asked when she pulled back.

“I’m glad that I get to graduate at the end of the month,” Y/N said, glancing back at the pile of Sara’s boxes with a curious expression. “What’s in this one?” Y/N asked, pointing at a box labeled VHS.

“I always forget that you’re younger than me.” Sara laughed before explaining to a puzzled Y/N about the concept of VHS films from the 1990s.

Meanwhile, Changbin could hear Jeongin whining about something to Seungmin, and he frowned when he noticed that Jeongin was sauntering back to the house without any boxes. Changbin decided that it was best to figure out why one of his helpers had already abandoned their duties, and he crossed his arms over his chest when he caught up to Jeongin. “Why are you moping around?” 

“Changbin, I’m hungry! We skipped lunch because we thought you were coming earlier,” Jeongin replied, and he sat right down on the porch steps as if there weren’t several more boxes to carry inside. “Hey!” he cried when Hyunjin knocked him on the back of the head while walking down the steps. 

“Hyunjin, don’t do that,” Changbin said, looking back at Jeongin with a sigh. “We can eat after everything’s moved inside.”

“But that could take all day,” Jeongin pointed out, and Changbin reluctantly agreed to call in a pizza so that Jeongin could quickly recuperate and help with the remainder of Sara’s belongings. 

Of course, he didn’t anticipate everyone stopping when the pizza arrived, and most of the boys crowded together on the front porch while eating and chatting away like they didn’t have unfinished work waiting for them in the driveway. “I think you’re all just lazy,” Changbin grumbled when he navigated around the maze of drinks on his way inside with another set of boxes.

“You expect me to drag those heavy ass boxes around when I’ve got cheese pizza right here?” Jisung asked with an incredulous tone that it made it seem like Changbin had just proposed something entirely preposterous. 

“That was part of our deal!” Changbin exclaimed. “Unless you want me to stop bringing home your snacks?”

“You always get the wrong brand anyway,” Jisung dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Changbin fought hard to remain composed. 

At least Y/N was still working diligently, talking to Sara like she had been saving up on topics all week for them to discuss. But Changbin didn’t mind their easygoing conversation, and he wished that the other boys had as much desire to help Sara like Y/N. Of course, Chan should also be home soon, and he wouldn’t tolerate everyone else dawdling around on the staircase when there was still a lot to drag inside the house before nightfall.

And Changbin’s observation proved entirely accurate when Chan parked his car on the side of the street - marching across the yard to where Jisung noticed his approach and immediately abandoned the others to rush inside. “Oi,” Chan said, pausing as he examined the mess that had been left behind. “We don’t have time to sit around all day!”

“It was just a break,” Hyunjin said, but he cowered away at the look in Chan’s eyes and both Jeongin and Seungmin started to shove all of their trash inside the pizza box.

From there, Minho’s eventual arrival gave them a much-needed boost to organize everything into Changbin’s upstairs bedroom, and Changbin was pleasantly surprised to realize that it was only 5:00 by the time they were finished. “I’ve already had to change my clothes twice!” Hyunjin complained to Felix who merely nodded his head as he drank from his soda can.

“One day of manual labor won’t break you,” Chan said, opening the door for Hyunjin who was still moping about the condition of his hair. 

“I think that went well,” Sara remarked from where she was leaning against the side of her car next to Y/N. “You did good, babe,” she added, offering Changbin a gentle kiss which he willingly accepted. 

“I think we worked the hardest,” Y/N said.  

“Maybe we should go for a drive,” Sara suggested. “You want to come, Y/N?”

“Sure!” Y/N said, and she was already calling dibs on the front seat of Changbin’s SUV. 

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked, sending Sara a questionable look. “We can always relax in our room.”

“It’s fine,” Sara said with a nod. “We can go get a snack or something.”

“Okay...” Changbin said, giving Sara another lingering moment to change her mind until she opened the back door of the SUV.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and situated himself behind the wheel, grinning at Y/N who was already using the car’s bluetooth feature to play her favorite music to fill the silence agreeably as they started down the road at a moderate speed.

They only drove a few miles before Sara pointed out a small diner that she insisted was one of her favorites. But Changbin wasn’t entirely convinced based on the spare amount of cars surrounding the somewhat fading exterior of the restaurant. Still, Changbin parked outside of the local diner and observed the building with suspicion. “This looks questionable.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sara said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We can grab something quick before we go home.”

“That sounds nice,” Changbin conceded, and he also couldn't ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat because it was lovely to hear Sara claim his precious Haven as her new home.

However, they were only inside the restaurant for an hour before Y/N received a suspicious text upon which she insisted that they needed to leave. In response, Changbin glanced over at her with a mouthful of french fries that he had been sharing with Sara. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no,” Y/N stuttered, which she only ever did when she was nervous. But what did Y/N have to be so nervous about?

“We can stay until everyone’s done,” Changbin said, but he noticed Sara and Y/N exchanging a quick nod from the corner of his eye.

“It’s alright,” Sara said. “I think we’re all ready.”

Changbin was slow to process the sudden change in their demeanor - altering quickly from complacent to urgent right before his very eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, but Sara was already dragging them both out of the booth while Y/N walked ahead to take care of their bill at the register.

“Thank you for this, Binnie,” Sara said, and Changbin’s suspicions instantly melted away at the sweet nickname.

“You can thank me later,” Changbin flirted in return - leaning in for a kiss that was interrupted by Y/N who was urging them into the car.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said - making it very clear that she wasn’t in the mood to linger around in the parking lot. 

But Changbin decided not to question Y/N’s strange behavior - maybe she was picking up on bad habits from Minho. In any case, it was better to let things go because both Sara and Y/N seemed more relaxed during the accumulating mileage back to the house. They listened to Y/N’s eclectic mixture of music on her phone and talked about how much work they still had to do when they organized Sara’s things into the available space in Changbin’s room.

“Maybe you can build like a storage building out back for the stuff you don’t need,” Y/N suggested, and Changbin grimaced at the thought of all the work required to build something like that.

“Oh! That’s a great idea, Changbin,” Sara said, and Changbin sighed but nodded his head regardless.

The topic in question filled up most of their conversation for the duration of the drive, ending abruptly when Changbin parked along the sidewalk and frowned when he noticed an unusual absence of his housemates. “Where is everyone?” Changbin wondered aloud, groaning in complaint when Y/N rushed to his side and practically drug him out of the SUV.

“Follow me,” she said in a conspiratorial tone.

“What’s going on?” Changbin demanded because both Y/N and Sara were giggling and he was feeling increasingly left out of their plans.

“You’ll love it, Changbin,” Y/N insisted when they walked inside the house, and she lead everyone to the back porch, pulling open the door in grand fashion. “Ta-da!”

At first, Changbin wasn’t sure why Y/N was making a big deal out their simple backyard. But then, he wagered a step outside, and he paused when he finally realized what Y/N had meant. Because, instead of their usual bland set-up, everything had been drastically transformed, and all of his family members were waiting with enormous smiles.

“Surprise!” Jeongin shouted, clapping his hands together in delight as he gestured at the decorations - balloons and streamers, glittery tablecloths, aromatic food dishes, and even a fire-pit in the middle of the grass.

Changbin’s mouth was practically dragging the ground at this point as he observed the elaborate display. “What’s all this about?” he asked, holding out an arm when Sara glued herself to his side.

“It’s for our anniversary,” Sara said. “They helped me get this ready!”

“Really?” Changbin laughed because it had definitely taken him by surprise. But it was a sincere gesture that spoke to his heart.

“It’s a surprise, dude,” Jisung said from where he was already helping himself to the candy bowls on the table.

“I can tell you worked hard,” Changbin said, but he decided that it was one of the nicest things that he had seen. 

“Just enjoy yourself, baby,” Sara said, pulling him along as Y/N flitted away into Minho’s arms.

“Is this why you drug me to that restaurant?” Changbin asked as he sat down across from Jisung.

“I had to give them some time to get everything ready,” Sara said, nuzzling closer into Changbin’s neck.

“Man, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” Jisung exclaimed with a laugh.

In return, Changbin narrowed his eyes playfully. “Now, I’m definitely not bringing home your snacks.”

“Changbin,” Sara said, drawing his attention into the endless constellations which had formed from the flecks of gold in her brown irises.

“Whatever, but Changbin,” Jisung said, interrupting their intense staring contest. “The snacks were never real.”

“You little shit!”

It was late when Changbin and Sara were finally able to escape into the solace of their bedroom. Despite the exhaustion that he felt from the day’s events, Changbin was still quick to trap her between his arms against the door - connecting their lips in an all-consuming kiss. Sara sighed in contentment, and Changbin was absolutely delighted by the sweet sound. 

“Is this a sign, Changbin?” she asked, pulling away so that they could both catch their breath. “Are you gonna have your way with me tonight?”

“If you’ll let me,” Changbin replied - studying the sensual pools of her eyes as he leaned in to feather a kiss across her flushed cheeks. 

“On the bed,” Sara requested, and Changbin held her tight as they both navigated the intricate maze of Sara’s boxes which were loitered across the floor of their room.

Changbin was careful when he laid her down on the mattress, watching as she removed her t-shirt and jeans before he decided to do the same. “You’re beautiful,” Changbin told her earnestly, smirking at the way she turned to the side in embarrassment. “I’m serious,” Changbin added as he moved on top. “You know that, right?”    

Sara managed a nod this time, and Changbin left a kiss across her forehead. Changbin was gentle because he loomed over Sara with broad shoulders and defined muscles while she was all delicate form and features that deserved to be treated with respect. Yet, at the back of his mind, Changbin couldn’t help but want to order around someone who always acted so meek and submissive. “Touch yourself for me,” Changbin said, and his voice was deeper and more commanding than his usual tone. 

Sara moaned at his words, but she spread her legs and circled her fingers around her clitoris. It was an obscene sight, and Changbin could watch this all day - stroking his cock in time with the slow penetration of her fingers inside her wet opening. “Changbin, please,” she whined, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Changbin said, reaching down to wipe away the salty evidence. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Please touch me,” Sara said, and Changbin was more than happy to oblige - replacing her fingers with his own and crooking them up in search of the elusive g-spot that would surely bring her the most pleasure. He also focused on stretching her out - ensuring that she would be ready to take his cock which hung heavy between his legs.

“How good does it feel?” Changbin asked, thrusting his fingers to mimic the same effect of his cock.

“It feels so good,” Sara said, and her hands reached out to grab his shoulders, holding him close so that she could connect their lips in a messy kiss that was satisfying nonetheless.

“I’m gonna use my cock now,” Changbin said, and he pulled out his fingers and brushed them across her lips. “Taste yourself.”

Sara nodded, opening her mouth and allowing Changbin to stick his fingers inside, groaning low in his throat when her tongue moved between each digit. “Such a good girl,” he said, aligning the tip of his erection with her swollen pussy. “Don’t keep those noises to yourself, sweetheart,” he said, and Sara was already moaning before he was even buried to the hilt - and her tight walls clung almost desperately to his erection as if ensuring that he couldn’t pull back out.

“God, you’re big,” Sara said, and Changbin allowed the compliment to feed his ego, pulling back out to just the tip before snapping his hips and plunging into the familiar embrace of her heat. “Changbin!” Sara cried, and Changbin froze for a moment before glancing at his door - remembering that he shared this place with his other roommates.

“You gotta be quiet,” he said, and Sara looked at him like he was making an impossible request. But he found it endearing nonetheless, reaching back for her discarded panties. “Use these,” he said, and Sara reluctantly allowed him to push them into her mouth. 

Thereafter, Changbin felt more confident in himself, and he braced most of weight onto his forearms because it allowed him to penetrate his girlfriend in long, full strokes that had him reaching places deep inside that he was certain he had never accessed before. But it only spurred him to go even faster, and he was entranced by the image of Sara’s breasts moving in time to each successive thrust as he started to chase his own high.

He could tell when Sara came because he knew her signs by heart - the way her breath would hitch around a moan, and how she always closed her eyes while arching her back into the air. She was left panting and overstimulated while Changbin picked up the pace, driving his hips in thunderous grinds while feeling his entire body tip over the edge.

He eventually came like that - grunting into Sara’s shoulders as his hips gave a few more feeble rolls before stopping as his cum ran down her thighs. “What a mess,” Changbin remarked, chest heaving up and down as he removed the makeshift gag from Sara’s mouth - studying his girlfriend who looked seconds away from completely drifting off. “Are you okay?” he asked, moving onto his side and holding her close.

“I think you just sent me into the next dimension,” Sara remarked, and Changbin chuckled at the hyperbole.

“That was the idea,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist as he pulled her tight to his overheated chest. “It wasn’t too much, right? I didn’t mean to force you to do anything.”

“I like when you take charge, but it wasn’t fun to have my underwear in my mouth, though,” Sara said, but she was smiling when she turned around to look at Changbin from over her shoulder. “Maybe we should consider installing sound-proof walls?”

“Now, there’s an idea,” Changbin said, and he could feel his eyelids grow heavier with the weight of his exhaustion. “The party was great, by the way. I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“There’s not a lot that I wouldn’t do for you,” Sara told him sweetly, and Changbin could feel his entire heart warming at the confession.

He closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet perfume - thanking whoever was watching over him that he had finally gotten his chance at finding his better half.

His soulmate.

#stayverse #skzsmutnetwork #skzwriternet #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshots #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz changbin #skz changbin fanfic #seo changbin fanfic #changbin fanfic #changbin smut #mostlycompetent

[bambi-lesbian-posts]

Please drop some jellyfish facts!!! And what you're favorite species is!! (different anon from the ratatouille anon!)

You are 100% gonna regret asking me this question but it's too late, now everyone has to suffer through this ridiculously long post about jellyfish.

Okay so this one isn't my favorite species of jellyfish but it is the one I know the most about: the Cotylorhiza tuberculata AKA the egg jelly/Mediterranean jellyfish. They look like this

And as I'm sure you can guess, they're typically found in the Mediterranean BUT that's not all!!! They also populate the Aegean and Adriatic seas around mid-September/October. Despite how these pictures make them look they're actually pretty small, most of them only reach like a foot (around 40cm) across when they reach maturity which is pretty neat. Teeny tiny jelly babies. Their sting is apparently very mild/insignificant and most people stung by these guys have reported it feeling like a static/carpet shock at most, and absolutely nothing at least. Many "sting victims" only find out they've been stung once the area starts to get red, irritated, numb, and/or itchy. Their biggest predators are humans, and thanks to the summer vacation/holiday season many officials end up removing thousands of them from the ocean so that tourists won't be afraid/uncomfortable at commercial beaches which is a CRIME if you ask me.

Next on my list is the Stomolophus meleagris AKA the cannonball/cabbage head jelly and they look like this.. (personally I think they should be named eggshell jellyfish because that's what they look like but I mean cannonball is fine too I guess)

Apparently you can eat these guys, which both disgusts and saddens me simultaneously.. however I know some people are into eating weird delicacies so if you were wondering where to try them, you can find them on the Southeast coast of the United States. They're a coastal jelly which means they like shallow waters, and unfortunately they're one of the most common jellyfish you'll see washed up on the beach(boo!). Much like stingrays, it's not common for them to sting people but if and when they do, they have a special venom that can cause cardiac issues in both animals and humans. Main predators are a few different species of crab that I never learned the names of.

Another noteable mention before I reach my favorite species is the Lampocteis cruentiventer AKA the Bloodybelly Comb jellyfish that, surprise surprise, is red and spiny like this

They are bioluminescent which means they glow in the dark (not exactly but we aren't gonna get into that right now). The spines or "hairs" they have that give them their comb classification actually move like thousands of tiny legs! They use these to move through the water (at a rate that is supposed to be fast for a jellyfish, but it's actually really slow if you are able to see them moving about. I was very disappointed by this when I looked up videos to see them zooming only to watch one putter around like a kid on a practice bike). Fun fact! In the deep water where they are normally located, you actually can't see them despite their glow. This is because creatures that are red actually appear black in dark water, so scientists aren't even sure what they eat and if they have any predators at all, because we simply can't see them. They were discovered off the coast of San Diego California not too long ago so scientists also aren't sure of all the places they populate because, again, we can't see them.

Last but NEVER least, we have my absolute favorite species of jelly which is the Narcomedusae (they don't have a common name because they aren't incredibly popular jellies but I call them Medusas) and they look like this!!

Narcomedusae is actually the general species name, and there are 64 different subspecies of medusas in the wild(that we know of). I would look them up and list them but it's late and that's a lot of work. If you really want a complete list let me know and I will reblog this with one later! Anyways medusas are ambush predators, and they're really, really good at what they do thanks to their two upper tentacles that they stick in front of them while they move through the water. They live in the Mediterranean area but a few different species have been found off the coasts of Russia and China(idk which specific regions I am so sorry). None of the 64 different types of medusas have a polyp stage, which is weird because most jellies have one. For anyone wondering what a polyp stage is, most jellyfish(and marine plants/stationary creatures) start off as teeny tiny little tentacle things (think of what a sea anemone looks like) that stick to rocks. They use their tentacles to eat plankton and other floating matter before(in the jellyfish's case) they detach from whatever coral/rock they were stuck on and start growing into tiny baby jellies. Medusas are generally deep sea jellyfish so we don't really know too much about what they eat and what their predators are, but considering the fact that they are all on the pale white-blue color spectrum, it's not wild to assume that they do have predators of some sort. Anyways I like them because, as ambush predators, they can actually zoom around in the water... Which gives me an incredible amount of serotonin. They also kind of look like Darth Vader's helmet and that is amazing, I love it very much! Not to mention Narcomedusae has Medusa in it and nothing could be better than a jellyfish that is unofficially named after THE Gorgon goddess of my dreams okay

#personale #charlize #bambi lesbian posts #bambi lesbian asks #anon #jellyfish #you asked and so you shall receive

[absinthemadness]

Fictober Day 9, Prompt 24: Are you kidding me?

This is also from an old, old prompt of “I didn’t know you were dating”

Post KH3 Akuroku where Roxas is learning just how he feels about Axel. Mentions of Soriku.

Something cute and silly after yesterday’s spicy post. :) The rest is under the cut for length reasons

---

‘Just live with Lea,’ they said. ‘You two are great friends,’ they said. ‘He needs a roommate and you would be perfect.’ 

What they didn't mention was that ‘Lea’ was a hot mess of emotion that Roxas couldn't even hope to decipher. 

The only emotion that Roxas had really wrapped his head around was anger, and he was only convinced of that because he'd snapped at the fiftieth person who suggested moving, which just so happened to be Isa. 

Roxas had heard the rumors. Some people had been swearing up and down to each other that there was something between the two, always going quiet when they noticed Roxas nearby. 

And he couldn't understand why, but it pissed him off every time someone spread the rumor. It was probably just because he hated gossip. 

So when Isa, of all people, had mentioned to him that Axel needed a roommate, Roxas hadn't even let him finish. "Well then, why don't you just move in with him then? I hear you're all buddy buddy with him."

"Excuse me?" 

Roxas didn't have to dignify that question with a response. He just crossed his arms and glared. Why? Why did Isa's face piss him off so much whenever mentioned with Axel’s name?

"Roxas, what do you mean by that?" 

He refused. He just kept glaring up at Isa. And Isa stared down at him. 

Stupid Isa and his stupid height. He'd look so perfect standing next to Axel. They could look each other in the eye. And without having to stoop down they could—

Roxas’s face flushed hot, and he snapped, "Why aren't you living with him, anyway? Aren't you together?" He wasn't sure what exactly together meant, other than kissing. And he only knew what that was because he stumbled across Sora and Riku smushing their faces together in a way that looked gross. 

Sora had told Roxas that kissing was something people did when they were together with someone special and Roxas hadn't pushed further, thoroughly grossed out and wanting to get away from the two. 

And the thought of Isa kissing Axel infuriated him, made him want to throw a fist into Isa’s stupid face.

Isa blinked at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. 

"What is so funny?" 

"You're actually jealous of Lea and me." 

Jealous. Roxas wasn’t sure if he’d heard the word before. Was that the blood boiling anger he felt? 

"Am not." 

"Either way. We're not dating. We're just friends." 

"Dating?" 

Isa chuckled. "Maybe you should ask Lea about that one. But seriously, give moving in a thought. Lea really likes you." 

Well, yeah, Axel liked him. They were best friends. 

Isa pissed him off yet again when he reached down and ruffled Roxas’s hair before walking off. 

That evening, Roxas found himself in Axel’s apartment. As he lay across the couch, tucked up under Axel's arm, he wondered if there was any merit to moving in. He spent a lot of his time in the cozy apartment, often spending the night in the spare bedroom. The amount of clothes scattered around the extra room was not insignificant. 

"What are you thinking?" Axel asked, hand absentmindedly going through Roxas’s hair as he stared at the TV.

He almost asked about moving in, but decided against it for now. Maybe if Axel ever brought it up… "What's dating?" 

Axel’s attention whipped over to Roxas, eyes almost glazing over, before a wide grin spread. "You trying to ask me out or something?" 

"What's asking out?"

Axel’s face fell. "You really don't know anything about dating?"

"I know about kissing."

Axel got that strange look again before his face went almost blank.

"I haven't been kissed, if that's what you're going to ask. Sora told me about it."

"Caught them sucking face, did you?" 

“Looked more like they were trying to eat each other. Is kissing dating?”

"In a way." 

"Then is dating being together?" 

"I guess you could say that."

"Are we dating?" 

He could feel Axel's body stiffen, and the look on his face screamed panic. "W-why would you ask that?"

"Well. People always comment that we're always together. I think I spend more time over here than I do in the castle."

"Yes, but we're not together like that?”

"We’re best friends?" Roxas sank back into Axel’s warm side. 

"Yeah, Rox. Best friends."  

"Friends…" Roxas mumbled. He touted that to almost anyone who would listen sometimes. They were friends, always had been, always would be. So what was the weird feeling in his chest? It was almost like a vacuum had sucked something out, leaving him feeling hollow. 

They fell silent after that, leaving Roxas only more confused. 

He waited for Axel to ask him to move in. Only getting more and more annoyed with everyone who suggested it. Especially when Axel would talk about wanting a roommate to Roxas. 

Axel seemed to dance around him, now. And it was starting to piss him off. Axel had been the one to promise Roxas that he would help puzzle out their newfound emotions. 

He finally got fed up, and figured he'd may as well take matters into his own hands, so he packed his suitcase full of the last of his clothes and other things he wanted to keep, and then caught a ride to Axel's. 

"Roxas?" Axel answered the door, probably surprised that Roxas hadn’t just let him in. But his hands had been full, so he’d elbowed the doorbell and waited. 

"Who else?" Roxas paused. "Don't answer that."

"What are you doing here?" Axel stepped back to let Roxas pass. 

"I'm moving in." 

"Why?" 

"Are you kidding me?" Roxas dumped his things on the kitchen table. "You haven’t shut up about wanting a roommate. And everyone and their brother have told me I would be perfect for you. Whatever that's supposed to mean."

"Do I get a say in this?" 

"Do you not want me to?" 

"Of course I do. I've been meaning to ask for a while." 

"Why didn't you?" 

"I… don't know? I was intimidated?" 

"It's just living together. We practically do anyway." 

But as much as he'd stayed the night, he was not prepared for the emotional train wreck that would be living with Axel. 

And Axel was a disaster. He'd get upset over the smallest thing, blustering about whenever he'd misplace something. He was always misplacing something. 

Roxas quickly discovered he had the uncanny ability to know where Axel's lost things were.

 "Roxas, have you seen my belt?" 

"Check under your green hoodie that's halfway under your bed."

"Roxas, have you seen my necklace?" 

"Did you check the fruit bowl?" 

"Roxas, have you seen my…" 

"Check the floor of your closet, left side towards the back. If not there, then under the sink in the bathroom."

And nearly every time there was a long pause, then… 

"Found it!"

Axel would cry all the time watching movies. Romance movies? Kids movies? Horror movies? Hell, he'd cried at animated robots. He'd always wind up leaned against Roxas’s arm as he shook with silent tears. Roxas would silently pat his arm, trying to decipher what was happening on the screen that would merit tears.

Axel practically overflowed with emotion, but he would never get angry with Roxas. He was full of endless patience as he explained things. He never batted an eye when Roxas would get so frustrated and throw a tantrum, shouting at Axel until he was exhausted. 

Axel would just wait and then softly ask, "Are you done now?" 

Roxas would always nod, feeling like a child until Axel would reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him it was ok to be upset. 

It left him confused. 

Not the fact that whenever Axel would answer a question, it inevitably led to more questions. But he started questioning the strange feeling he'd get in his stomach when Axel would touch his cheek. 

But any time he'd ask about it, Axel would kind of bumble his way through a half-baked explanation and make an excuse to disappear into his room. 

He wasn't sure who else to ask. Sora was busy being with Riku. Xion was off somewhere discovering herself. 

So instead, he stormed to his room every time Axel would leave his question unanswered. He'd slam the door as hard as he could, throw headphones on, and drop face down on his bed to scream into his pillow. 

Eventually it got to where he gave up. He didn't give up on Axel completely, just stopped trying to ask him about emotions, about the strange way he'd feel sitting close while they watched a movie, or about the looks that he would sometimes catch Axel giving him. 

But he wanted to ask so badly when Axel would lean in close and ruffle his hair. He wanted to ask why his heart beat so loudly. Why it felt like his stomach would do somersaults.  

But he didn't. He shoved all of those feelings down. He kept his face straight, forced his hands not to shake. And smiled. 

It was fine. 

He was fine. 

He wasn't sure how long it went on. But one day he had been out doing odd jobs when he saw Axel, and then some girl talking to him. She kept leaning in and touching his arm and he would lean away, running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. To Roxas’s relief, he didn't look too comfortable. Isa stood with them, watching in amusement. 

Roxas felt his blood boil when she leaned against his arm. He left his skateboard on the sidewalk and stormed across the road, straight up to the trio. He could feel them all looking at him, but his eyes were on Axel as he stepped away from the girl. He nudged through, reached up and grabbed Axel's face before yanking him down and crushing their lips together. 

When he let go and took a step back, Axel was staring wide eyed. His hands hovering just over Roxas’s arms. 

Roxas turned and said hello to Isa, waved at the girl, excused himself, and walked off. 

"I didn’t know you two were dating," Isa said.

He heard Axel’s chuckle, "Neither did I."

He hopped back on his skateboard and took off before he could hear more of the conversation. 

Well... he hadn’t meant to kiss Axel. He’d just wanted to march over there and get some answers about who the girl was. To find out if Axel was interested in her.

He groaned, pressing his hands to his face, thankful he knew the streets at this point and thought of ways to explain his behavior if Axel was pissed when he got home. 

Axel was lying on the couch watching TV when he arrived that evening. Roxas kicked off his shoes and left them by the front door with his skateboard. 

"I’m home," he muttered, shrugging out of his jacket. 

"Welcome home."

He couldn’t tell if Axel was upset from the tone of his voice, so he figured an apology would be a safe bet. Axel pushed up from the couch as he started. 

"Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted to ask—" He was cut off when a pair of hands cupped his jaw and tipped his head up. He barely had time to take in green eyes before they were drifting closed, before a pair of lips pressed to his. 

He felt like an idiot, frozen there when Axel leaned back. "What?"  

Axel just leaned in and kissed his forehead. 

"Are we dating?" Roxas blurted, staring up as green eyes opened. 

"I figured you’d tell me after your little display this afternoon." Axel chuckled, thumb stroking Roxas’s cheek. 

"You never really told me what dating was, other than being together. Is it more kissing?" Roxas hoped it was.

"It can be as much kissing as you want."

Roxas grinned and pulled Axel back down.

#absinthe writes #attempts at #fictober #akuroku #post kh3 #Roxas still has a lot to learn about the world #but at least he has Axel

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Harts fanfic, chapter 28--Epilogue

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Time passes. The kingdom recovers. A prophecy comes full circle.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Life was a work in progress. There were periods of unrest in the kingdom which were not always easy to smooth over with words, but Ansem did not want to use force. “Remember, Ienzo, a riot is the language of the unheard.”

Flowers began to bloom in Radiant Garden again. There was still signs of destruction everywhere--rubble, smashed out windows, destroyed buildings. But piece by piece, it was getting put together. The resistance based itself in the capital city and started what it called a “restoration committee,” not just to restore the city, but the whole kingdom.

Demyx spent a lot of time at the beach with Amalia, now that they both had their forms. Ienzo wondered if it would be salt in wounds to go to Destiny Islands at some point. He would ask when he felt ready.

Something else was growing too.

When he felt the nausea, the fatigue and dizziness, and the achiness, Ienzo did not delude himself into denial as he did the last time. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, good and hard. He held his hand in front of his stomach and reached out, tentatively. Something was there, a potential for a new life. But he did not feel the overwhelmed sense of panic he had when he was first pregnant with Amalia. He was still young, ridiculously so, but would this be so terrible?

He sought Even, who was busy puttering around the labs. There was light in his eyes again, joy, at having something productive to do. In fact, he did not seem bothered by Ienzo’s interruption. “No bureaucratic nonsense today?”

“My father insisted I take the morning off.”

“Your daughter?”

“Out swimming. I swear, sometimes I have difficulty getting the two of them to come home.”

“...It is good, to see Demyx happy again. I was… concerned.”

“Were you? You could barely stand each other in the beginning.”

Even rolled his eyes and pulled off his goggles. “Adversity draws people together,” he said. “I wonder often… if I have hardened my heart too much. I am trying… to let people back in.”

“And how is that going?”

He considered. “It is going,” he said. “But better than being stalled. Good to be… active. And to see you some semblance of safe at last.”

Ienzo came a bit closer. He was working on one of the replicas, a faceless white mannequin half covered with a sheet. “Does it feel good to see your work come to fruition?”

“It is bittersweet--putting it mildly.” He sighed. “If not for… that creature’s breakthroughs, this would not be possible.”

“It is still your creation.” Ienzo paused. “Even, have you met Xion?”

He fussed with tubes of mystery fluid. “Who?”

“Xion, Xemnas’s… ward. I shall have to introduce you.”

His eyes snapped up. “Why?”

“Because she is one of the replicas.”

“Of whom?”

“Of nobody. Herself.”

Even grasped his shoulders. “And you only tell me this now, boy?”

“Please be gentle with me, Even.”

He seemed to be reeling. “...Why?”

“I find myself to be in an indelicate condition. As it were.”

He turned red. “ Again ? Child, you know what causes that, right?”

Ienzo chuckled. “Would it be so terrible, to get the childrearing over with while my father is still able to help me rule?”

Even pressed a hand to his forehead and sputtered wordlessly. After a moment, he composed himself and held a hand over Ienzo’s stomach. “...Quite. I do not know whether to laugh… or cry…”

“Go seek Xion. She’s a guard on the upper floors. I know that’s where your heart is.”

He was already taking his coat off, grabbing a tablet computer. “Yes… right… we can discuss this later…” And he was out the door.

Ienzo returned to their rooms. To his surprise, Demyx and Amalia were back. “Done for the day already?”

Demyx gestured out the window. “It’s gonna storm. Plus I figured I owe you some lunch.” He leaned forward to kiss him, and Ienzo could taste the salt.

“Ra!” Amalia said.

“Right, rain.” Ienzo crouched down and smoothed the wet hair from her face.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up. What do you feel like? There’s this new place that’s opened back up not far out of the gates--”

Ienzo followed him into the bathroom. Demyx laughed a little.

“Look, I’d be so down, but like, she’s right in the other room--”

“I’m pregnant.” He didn’t know why the words had to leave him now, without ceremony.

Demyx just blinked. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Oh…” A small smile. “Oh… Do you want to--”

“I… want them.” He swallowed. “Get it over with while we’re young, right? While my father is still helping me? I can’t imagine going through this while being fully responsible for everything else.”

Demyx hugged him. “Round two?”

“...It seems so. I mean, to be fair, we were not the least bit careful, and it has been happening quite a lot lately--”

He kissed his forehead. “They’re going to be great.”

---

As it stormed later that night… Ienzo lay awake. He’d been even more of an insomniac during pregnancy, and he hadn’t much missed that. But he could not sleep. Demyx, who could basically sleep at will, had one arm draped over his stomach.

A particularly loud peal of thunder made Demyx stir, and from the other room Ienzo heard Amalia shriek and start to cry. Demyx’s eyes fluttered open. “It’s okay,” Ienzo told him. “I’ve got this. Go back to sleep.”

The drawing room had been turned into a nursery more fully now, the soft light of the mobile reflecting the rain in the room. Amalia was still crying. Ienzo leaned over the crib and hefted her into his arms. He settled in the old rocking chair. “It’s just a storm, sweetheart,” he said.

“Bad,” she said. “Bad, bad.”

“I know. It scared you.” He rocked gently. “I’m here. I’ll keep you safe. How about a story?”

Ienzo told her a story he’d learned from Demyx, about a rainbow fish that gradually gave up its scales to help others. He let his power cast a quiet illusion along the walls, of a deep blue sea, of that same fish swimming seemingly in midair. Somewhere in this, she fell back asleep, and rather than put her back in her crib, Ienzo remained there, thinking.

She hadn’t mentioned a sibling in the Forecast. Her words had been “we live with dad and grandpa in the castle”. If he gave birth on schedule, that child would be her age by the time of the Forecast.

But at the same time, toddlers were selfish. It could’ve just slipped her mind. Perhaps she was closer to Even or Ansem than her own sibling. Ienzo took a deep breath. Part of pregnancy was being illogically anxious.

It would be fine.

---

Perhaps it was for this reason, but Ienzo kept news of this child from Ansem. A few weeks passed, tremulously. He kept at work, meeting officials, sitting in committee meetings, deciding, deciding. Helping organize a parliamentary election.

After one such meeting, he was gathering his papers to return to his study when he felt a cramp, hard. He gasped aloud. “Are you alright, your highness?” Lydia asked. She was back to her post as librarian, and she’d brought him some books.

He blinked. “I’m… fine,” he said woodenly. Cramping during the first few months was normal, wasn’t it? Might be worth getting himself examined anyway. “It is nothing.”

“...Alright. Well, pardon me for overstepping, but perhaps you might rest. It’s been a long day.”

He swallowed, trying to choke down the dread. “I shall. Thank you.”

He made his way back not towards his rooms, but towards Even. The pain stuck him hard under the heart, and he had to duck into a bathroom before he lost composure. He wasn’t sure what whisper of an instinct told him so, but he pulled down his pants and checked his underwear.

Blood. A not-insignificant amount. He stuffed one of the small folded hand towels between his legs--mentally apologizing to the launderers--and hazily kept going. He almost stumbled getting the lab door open. “Even,” he said, and perhaps it was his tone, but the man immediately looked up.

“Ienzo, what--”

“Something isn’t right. With the baby.”

He grabbed him immediately and herded him over to one of the replicas’ exam tables. “And yet you drag yourself all the way down here instead of going to the infirmary.”

“I wasn’t--I didn’t want--”

He touched his face. “I know, love. Wait--are you--”

The blood must’ve seeped through the hand towel. “Fuck,” Ienzo murmured. He felt the coldness of Even’s magic assessing him.

He turned pale. “Ienzo, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

“But is it--”

“There’s no heartbeat, and you’ve lost quite a bit of blood. There’s no… life.”

Another cramp overtook him. “They weren’t in the Forecast--I tried to convince myself it was not so--”

“I know. I know, love. We should get you to the infirmary--”

“Please, no.” He felt more wetness between his legs.

“You’re losing too much blood to justify receiving care from only me.”

How awkward, and humiliating. Even carried him like a child. Hazily, he was changed, cleaned, given something to absorb the blood, fluids, painkillers. He let himself ride this quasi-consciousness, until a hand took his. “Zo?”

“Demyx? I--I’m sorry…” He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “I lost it…” His hair obscured things from view.

“The important thing is you’re okay.”

“She didn’t mention them, I should’ve known--”

Demyx drew him close and held him for a long time.

---

It took him a while to recover from the miscarriage. Not so much physically--he was back to “normal” within several days--but emotionally he felt scrambled, exhausted. He did not know it was possible to love something so small so much.

Ansem insisted he take time off. Demyx waited on him hand and foot, but he was shaken too. Ienzo slept too much, could barely look at Amalia. He was taking a bath, his mind positively going nowhere, eyes unfocused on the ceiling tiles, when he heard small footsteps. “Da-dee?”

Wearily, he looked over. “What is it, love?”

She was holding her favorite stuffed animal, a unicorn she’d named Pinky. She offered it to him.

“Thank you, but I don’t want Pinky to get wet.” He set the toy on the chair by the tub.

She leaned over the lip of the tub. “Hurt?” she said.

“I’m just tired, love.”

“Hurt,” she asserted.

Ienzo sighed. “Yes, I’m sad. You know it’s okay to be sad sometimes, right?”

She nodded. “Help?”

He kissed her. “You already are.”

---

Perhaps because it was through this particular lens of sadness, but suddenly it seemed strange that he, governed so by emotions, be the one responsible for the welfare of this country. He, whose sole “mandate to rule” was his power. Why was it that, despite humanity’s long and colorful history in this country, there had never been strides made towards democracy, or anything other than absolute power?

There had been abdications, in the past. Ienzo found himself reading about them voraciously. There had been some good reasons for such actions--fundamental disagreements about faith and the way the country should be governed, a lack of acceptance of sexuality or gender, the heir apparent believing they were not competent enough--and some not so. Considering the convoluted transfer of power, from firstborn to firstborn only , it was amazing the monarchy had not collapsed under its weight or lost its power somewhere in the past. Should the firstborn, say, die in a tragic accident, or from an aneurysm prior to having an heir, that power was simply lost for a generation. And should that first child be sufficiently… along , enough in utero, and something were to happen to them, that counted.

Ienzo needed to talk to Ansem. “Father?”

He took off his glasses. “What is it?”

“Can I talk to you?”

He offered a smile. “Of course. How are you feeling, dear heart?”

He sighed and sat down. “This has all been very… overwhelming.”

“I’m sure. Loss of a child… even one that is not yet living… is very heavy stuff indeed.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… mortality. Human weakness. Limitations of the body.” He found himself looking at his knees. “The fragility of my… power. How does it make me qualified to rule? The child I lost… could very well have been Amalia, some months along the line. Suddenly that power is gone.” He touched his abdomen. “Father, this whole monarchy… is starting to feel very…”

“Pointless?” He rubbed his brows. “I agree entirely. But the last thing people need right now is a radical change in government. We’re only just settling. Imagine what might happen if we suddenly propose some other form of rule?”

“...I know.”

“Once this is all over… I’m wondering if we should…”

“...Abdicate?” He cocked his head slightly.

Ienzo took a breath. “Am I a traitor for even thinking it?”

“Oh, Ienzo. No. Not at all. Class division is part of how we got into this mess in the first place. That you seek to abolish it shows your love for your people. Perhaps it might be worth it to consider the schema as to how this will be put in place.”

Ienzo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Truthfully?”

“Truly.”

“...Thank you.”

---

Time passed.

Amalia was growing so quickly . She started to speak more clearly, in longer sentences. She started to show more magic. Once, Ienzo walked into her room and saw books hanging in the air all around them. “Look,” she said. “They’s flying.”

Demyx expressed his own desire to do work of some kind. “People need art,” he told Ienzo. “They’re going to need a way to deal with all that pain.” Together, they jumpstarted a national art program. To finally be active, to finally be helping people in a meaningful way… Ienzo felt… fulfilled.

This was all going to take work, probably constantly. But that there might be a day where they could have a simple, happy life with their family gave him pleasure.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, but one spring day Amalia asked if they could go on a picnic. The day was sunny, the flowers were in bloom. He was sitting on a blanket on a patch of grass in the plaza. He worked the teardrop-shaped pendant absently with one hand. He knew that at some point they'd have to formally get married as long as he was in the public eye. But for now... this was enough.

“Daddy, look!” She opened her hands, revealing a small magic flower. “I made it!”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s beautiful.” The deja vu struck him with insistence.

She smiled widely, and reached to be picked up, so he did. “Can we go to the garden?”

“Of course.” Demyx was supposed to meet them there after his lesson in the city. He took the picnic blanket and set off.

“Do you think this is real?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“This. Right now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno… a ‘motion I had.”

“A feeling?” Ienzo offered. Then, “I had a dream when I was pregnant with you.”

“When I was in your tummy?”

“That’s right. And you sent me a memory, of this moment, right now.”

“What I say?”

“You told me about our friends. The ones who met you when you were a baby.”

She laughed. “Isa and mister Xemnas.”

“Yes. You told me everything I needed to know. It’s because of you this is all like this, you know?”

“I know,” she said, unimpressed. “Where’s daddy?”

“He’s on his way.”

They passed through the castle gates to the gardens, which were lush and full again. Aerith was tending to the flowers; she waved. “Hi flower lady,” Amalia called loudly.

“Hey yourself,” she said back.

Ienzo set down the blanket on a patch of clean glass.

“There’s my favorite girl.” Demyx set down the sitar. He scooped her up and gave her a kiss. “Did she give you much trouble?”

“Not today. Not yet. Did you get the i-c-e c-r-e-a-m?”

“Ice cream!” Amalia shouted.

“Zo, she’s too smart for that.” Demyx laughed. “Sold out, I’m afraid.”

Ienzo sighed. He’d been looking forward to it all day.

“But I did get these from someone at the lesson.” He handed Ienzo a bag with a pastry box inside. “Egg tarts. Several people told me they are to die for.” He sat down with their daughter.

Ienzo took them out and handed one to Amalia. “...Do you know,” he began. “Today’s the day.”

Demyx frowned. “What day?”

“It all came full circle. The Forecast. On the way over here.”

“Oh… wow. Really?”

He smiled. “And the future is again aqueous.”

“Like that’s a bad thing? Look, if we knew every minute, we’d always be trying to plan things. We wouldn’t get to decide.” He brushed a crumb from their daughter’s mouth. “Because of her… and you… we do now. I’m okay with that.”

“I… am too.” He swallowed.

“It’ll be us against the world.” His eyes were so soft.

“I know that.” He chuckled. “It’s terrifying, to have the choice. I think I’d like to finish university first.”

“School, school,” Amalia said eagerly. “Me and daddy go to school.” She was going to go to nursery school in the fall.

“Daddy’s going to school for big kids,” Demyx said to her. “You’re going with kids your age. Little.”

“Not little.” She huffed, then brightened. “School and make lots of friends!”

“She’s like you all right,” Ienzo said.

“Dunno. She’s too smart for her own good--like you.”

“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” Ienzo admitted.

“I wanna be a cat doctor. Or a rockstar. Or maybe…” Amalia stuck out her tongue in thought. “Wanna be an explorer .”

“You already are, silly.” Demyx tickled her, and she squealed.

“I do still want to help people. Maybe psychology, or…” He trailed off. “To be determined.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” Demyx picked up one of the egg tarts and all but crammed it into Ienzo’s mouth.

He scowled, but then, “These are good.”

“Right?”

---

The sun was setting. Ienzo watched it from his alcove in the library. This was his favorite spot, its light, its smell of varnished wood and old books. But he wasn’t reading.

“...It is lovely, isn’t it?”

Ienzo looked up and saw Even, for once without his lab coat, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Where were you?”

“I was… with your father. I’m afraid he made me take a walk in the garden.”

Ienzo felt his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, was it a nice walk?”

He wondered if he was imagining the blush. “It is good to get fresh air,” he said evasively. He leaned against the desk next to Ienzo. “So I hear you’re to… abdicate.”

“In several years, once things settle, but… yes. And Demyx will abdicate on Amalia’s behalf. No more royalty. Whatever we have left will simply be ceremonial, if that.”

Even chuckled gently. “All the time I spent defending the monarchy, and you’re giving it up. You are making me gray, child.” But he said this pleasantly. “Yes… change is not so bad. The world needed it. We needed it. We could not… run forever.”

“Do you feel good, to no longer be running?”

“I do,” he admitted. “I felt such a coward for so many years. To get my hands dirty is a relief.”

“I have to thank you, for all you’ve done for me. I took you for granted.”

Even reached over and brushed the hair out of his face. “Well raising you certainly wasn’t easy.”

He laughed a little.

“In all seriousness, Ienzo, I didn’t do it entirely out of duty. I loved you--and I still love you--as if you were my own. Bonds don’t change, the… lines between hearts.”

“Heartlines?” He raised his eyebrow. “My father must be rubbing off on you. You were never so philosophical.”

“I am trying to open my heart.” He put a hand to his chest. “And it is painful, but I feel I am… growing. Never thought I would have to at my age.”

“And what of things with Xion?”

“She is a lovely girl. She’ll do well once she starts school. We’re trying to spend time together. In a way… she is my child.” A sigh. “Though this research… what right have I to create new life?”

“You saved many who would be the seeker of darkness’s victims.”

“...A cold comfort.” He tapped his fingertips together. “Come, then. That husband of yours is attempting to cook.”

Ienzo felt a shimmer at “husband”, but was it not true? Ceremony or no ceremony. “He’s a good cook, Even, you just have an unenlightened palette.” He stood and together they began to walk.

“...I’ll just chalk it up to cultural differences. I suppose… all of this could’ve been much worse, yes?”

“It could’ve.” He paused. “Will we… once I leave this place, Even, will we still be part of one another’s lives?”

He seemed perturbed. “Of course, Ienzo. Always.” He squeezed his hand. “Don’t fear change the way I did.”

“I won’t.” He swallowed, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion. “I promise, I won’t.”

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #child oc - amalia #even (kingdom hearts)

[vostara]

Impietas - 01

PART I — lead me closer to the light

pairing: jacob frye x original female character (marianne)

blurb: “One’s given name is hardly a confirmation of character.”

word count: 3.4k+

title inspiration: horizon - snow ghosts

[VAMPIRE AU] From the moment she was born, Marianne Braxton, née Winchester, has been coerced into giving the Templar Order her unwavering loyalty. After years of witnessing the horrors performed in the name of the Order, she questions the purpose of such an organization. But dismantling the Order is a task that can’t be accomplished alone.

This work is cross-posted on Ao3.

01 | … series masterlist

London, 1867

The confession tumbles out of his lips. And though Marianne knows that he stands by his words, she does not miss the waver in his voice. He is unsure, but desperate to reveal this truth. Almost eager to open the pages of a once concealed book; to point at the one sentence that unlocks the key to understanding its meaning.

“I love you,” he says.

A silence follows this revelation.

But it is a truth that Marianne has known for quite some time. For she has already witnessed his lingering gazes, has already felt the way he shudders when her skin makes contact with his own. And yet, she is not ready for this verbal confirmation of her suspicions.

Her hands press against her plum colored dress. And out of reflex, she smoothes down the fabric beneath her fingers. She needs a moment to process, to fully gather her thoughts. The woman wants to string together the right words, a response appropriate for this situation. Something that will cause the least amount of damage to their relationship.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “but I do not return your affections.”

The man gives her a small smile, unsurprised by her rejection. “I know,” he says, with a nod of his head. His amber eyes drift to focus their gaze on the dark wood of his large desk. “I simply wanted to express my feelings for you.”

“Claude,” Marianne sighs and takes a cautious step towards the man. “This does not mean that I will never learn to care for you, as more than a dear friend. This marriage was—”

“An event that I never believed I would experience with you,” he interrupts. “I can understand why you agreed to marry me and I will not fault you for your decision. I have known you long enough to be well aware of the difficulties you have experienced. I do not blame you for wanting to escape from your parents, from their endless demands. I am a Baron, and that was more than enough reason for your parents agreed to our marriage. You have become a Baroness, an upgrade to your status in society.”

Marianne frowns. “I did not marry you for you title.”

“It is okay, Marianne. You do not need to justify your actions.” The man stands up from his armchair and approaches the woman. “I do not ask that of you.”

“Tell me why we are having this conversation,” she raises her gaze to meet his own.

Claude hesitates, before reaching a hand towards the woman. His fingertips brush against the loose curls of her copper hair. And just as he is about to press his palm against the skin of her cheek, he pulls his arm away. “You are much more intelligent than our peers would like to believe. And you have a heart, one that should not be chained by the vows that you have made with the Order. When I am gone—”

“Gone?” Marianne interrupts. “Where are you going?”

The man continues, ignoring her inquiries. “I want you to trust your instincts,” he says. His hands lightly grasp onto the sides of her arms. “Question everything, question the Order. I know that you have doubts about their cause, purpose. You know that something is not adding up. That vampirism is spreading at an exponential pace. It is unnatural, as if the spread is being encouraged, manipulated by an outside force.”

Marianne blinks. She studies the man looming above her. “What do you know?”

“That the worst thing that you have ever seen is nothing, compared to the truth.”

“Claude—”

The couple are interrupted by a knock on the door.

Claude retracts his hands and takes a step away from his wife. “You may enter,” he says.

One of their maids, Bethany, enters the room.

“My Lord, my Lady,” she says, “Mr. Crawford Starrick is here. He requests a moment of your time, Lady Braxton, if possible.”

Claude groans and runs his fingers through his short blond hair. “What could that vile man possibly want now?”

Marianne stifles a chuckle, before it has the chance to escape from her lips, and turns to address the young woman. “Please inform Mr. Starrick that I will be with him in just a few moments.”

“Of course, my Lady,” the woman curtsies and exits the room.

“I do not know why you bother entertaining that man,” Claude says.

“Sometimes it is easier to simply do the bare minimum,” she responds. “Smile and laugh, when prompted, and then slip away once the opportunity arises.”

The man crosses his arms and leans against his desk. “And what happens when the bare minimum is no longer enough? Will you still continue to appease that man with your attention?”

“If you were not so keen on angering the future Grand Master, I would not have to appease him as often as I do.”

Claude scoffs. “That is a silly rumor.”

“To ignore that possibility is utter naivety on your part.”

“Starrick will never get that kind of promotion, not with the amount of people that dislike him.”

Marianne turns to exit the room. When her fingers latch onto the doorknob, she pauses to give one last remark. “You forget that leaders do not have to be liked; they just need persuade those who will help them accomplish their goals.”

~ ~ ~

“Mr. Starrick,” Marianne greets. She descends the steps of the grand staircase and then approaches the man. “I was not expecting your company.”

“Forgive the intrusion, Lady Marianne,” the man replies. He gives her a small bow, before gesturing to a somewhat small, flat object propped against the wall. “I come bearing a gift, an early birthday present.”

“I see.” Marianne steps closer the rectangular object. Once her fingers are tightly gripped onto the edges, she lifts it up. It has a surprising amount of weight to it, but it is still far from too heavy for her to carry. The gift is concealed by large pieces of parchment, which Marianne gracefully tears away.

This action exposes an oil painting, a landscape. Her eyes trace the coating of colorful hues, examining the splatters of pinks, blues, and yellows for flower petals. The vivid brushstrokes of colors blend in with the lush greenery of surrounding grasses and leaves. Off-center, on the right side of the painting, is a woman. She is dressed in a large navy blue evening gown, complete with a subtle floral print and lace trimmings on the sleeves. Though the angle of her head conceals her identity, the woman’s shade of red hair bears a striking resemblance to Marianne’s own locks.

“This is quite beautiful,” the woman says. “It reminds me of my parents’ countryside estate, of the springtime blooms that overtake the gardens.”

“I am pleased that the painting is up to your standards,” Starrick responds.

Marianne smiles.

She motions for a nearby maid to approach. “Elizabeth, take this painting to the dining hall. I shall pick a suitable location for it later.”

“Of course, my Lady,” the woman says. She takes the painting away from Marianne and then disappears through a doorway.

Turning back to her guest, the Baroness says, “While I do appreciate the early gift, I cannot help but wonder if your visit today is for a different reason.”

The man nods. “You know me too well, Lady Marianne. There is, in fact, a matter I hoped to discuss with you.”

“Of course,” she says. “What is it?”

“Perhaps we could venture to a more discrete location, away from any curious ears.”

“If you are worried about my husband overhearing this conversation, then you have nothing to fear,” the woman smiles. “He is currently preoccupied with a business engagement,” she lies. “Right here is a perfectly suitable location for our discussion.”

Starrick sighs, but submits to her insistence. “I have previously expressed my concerns with your marriage to Lord Braxton.”

“You most certainly have,” Marianne interrupts.

He brushes aside her words and continues speaking. “I believe this to be an unfit union, especially for a Templar of your status. I encourage you to leave him, as soon as you can.”

“A runaway Baroness would be quite the scandal,” she chuckles. “The other aristocrats would never stop gossiping about such behavior.”

“English aristocracy would be the least of your problems,” Starrick snaps. “When you married Braxton, he was a respectable Templar, but he has turned into a fool. In order to regain the respect of our peers, you must leave him. Your loyalty to our cause must surely be more important than your insignificant obligations as a wife.”

“You may not like my husband, but he is still a Templar. And, despite what you think, he is still loyal to the Order.”

“Braxton will only stop you from reaching your full potential. He will hold you back and bring upon shame to you and your family. If you continue to remain by his side, you will lose the support of the Templars.” He takes a couple of steps towards the woman. “Do you truly wish to ruin your family’s reputation, the Winchester reputation?”

“I hardly believe that you are concerned about the status of my reputation.”

“Braxton is a traitor.” His accusation is firm.

But unsupported.

“Then why is he still alive?” Marianne quirks a brow. “Where is his executioner? Is it you?”

Starrick frowns.

“Or perhaps,” she taunts, “could it be that you are lacking the necessary proof? That your word is not quite enough leverage to sway the minds of our superiors, of those who much prefer the company of Lord Braxton over yourself?”

“You will see what kind of man he is. You will see where his loyalties lie.”

“I wonder if someone will say the same thing about you one day.”

The man glares at her. And from the corner of her eye, Marianne can see his fists clench, an attempt to quench the anger brewing beneath his skin.

“I believe it is time for you to leave,” the Baroness says. “I have several appointments that I must attend to.”

Starrick takes one last step towards her and lowers his voice to a hiss. “You will come to regret your involvement, your commitment, with this man.”

Marianne keeps herself rooted in place, unwilling to break beneath his threats. “Life is full of regrets, Mr. Starrick. I doubt that, in the end, this one will be noteworthy.”

~ ~ ~

Before Marianne is able to enter her husband’s study, she senses that something is out of place. Claude has a tendency to cause a bit of a ruckus while working, always pacing throughout the office or rummaging through his papers.

But she only hears silence, a trait far too uncharacteristic for the disorganized man.

The Baroness reaches between the ruffles of her gown, slipping her fingers around the handle of a small dagger. With a secure grip, she pushes open the door and enters the room.

A body is on the floor, in front of the desk. And Marianne needs only to see the burgundy tie, a gift from her, to know that it is Claude. Blood streams from a large slash carved into his neck, forming a puddle of crimson liquid that creeps its way across the floor. It reaches for the doorway, as though, it too, longs to escape from the death steadily consuming the atmosphere.

Marianne is quick to cross the room, knowing that she needs to give the body a closer inspection. She crouches down to look for any traces of evidence.

Aside from the gash in his throat, she finds no other signs of a struggle. There are no ligature marks. No early signs of bruising. A potential weapon is nowhere sight. And his hands are clean, untainted by any blood.

His wound is not self-inflicted, nor did he react or attempt to resist his fate.

She presses a hand against his skin; he is still warm to the touch.

Her husband has killed and—

The woman’s ears perk up when she hears a floorboard creak behind her.

—the murderer is still in the room.

“Tell me,” she says, “is his killer an Assassin or Templar?” Marianne rises to a standing position and turns to face whomever is in the room with her.

With their hands slightly raised in front of them, a figure steps out of the shadows. It is a man dressed in white robes, adorned with ornate golden trim and stitching. His face is shrouded by a matching white hood, but traces of his almond colored skin bleed through gaps in the fabric.

“An Assassin,” Marianne notes. Her eyes drift the blade held between the fingers of his right hand. A drop of blood drips from the edge of the metal and splashes against the floor. “Are you here to kill me, as well?”

“For now,” he says, “you are not a target.” The man speaks with the slightest hint of an accent, revealing his origins of birth to not be that of Great Britain. India, perhaps?

Marianne tilts her head and takes a step towards him. “If I am safe today, then what of tomorrow? Next week? Should I expecting a visit from the Grim Reaper in the near future?”

“That will depend.”

“On?”

“On strength of your loyalty to the Templars,” he says.

“Interesting,” Marianne replies. She turns her head to glance back at the oozing corpse. “Some Templars believed Claude to be a traitor, but most could not fathom the idea that such a well-respected man would turn against us. Still, there was speculation that he may have been leaking information to your Brotherhood.”

The man remains silent.

“I know it is a bit of a rarity between presumed enemies, but are you willing to keep a secret?” Marianne adjusts her grip on the small dagger, spinning it between her fingers, while awaiting his response.

“A civil conversation between our organizations is already a rarity,” he says. “I don’t see the harm in adding to that list.”

“I would never confess this to my fellow Templars, but the truth is that I believed the rumors.”

The Assassin slightly raises his gaze to examine the woman. “You, a Winchester, refused to betray a man you believed had turned on the Order?"

Marianne shrugs. “One’s given name is hardly a confirmation of character.”

“Why did you keep his secret?”

“He should never have been a member of the Order,” she says. “Beneath his guise as the utterly devoted Templar, he was a kind man. He had a code of morals that he longed to follow, but knew that he could not do so publicly. For quite some time, I have known that he was drifting away. I had my speculations long before the rest of the Order. And I knew that if I did not marry him, if I did not attempt to protect him with my family’s long proven loyalty, he would be made an example of, slaughtered.”

“You loved him.”

“No,” Marianne shakes her head, “not in the way that you are suggesting. He was a friend that I cared for immensely. We grew up together; I knew the pieces of him that he hoped to keep concealed. I do not need to see proof to know that Claude turned against the Order, that he became an informant for the Assassins.” Her fist tightens, clutching the dagger in her hand. “But I wonder, what do you have to gain by killing the one man who was willing to tell you everything.”

“Lord Braxton was well aware of the Order’s suspicions,” he says. “He knew that it was only a matter of time before they sent someone to execute him.”

“He asked you to kill him,” she realizes.

“Death by Assassin was the only way to prevent himself from being captured by the Templars and forced into betraying the Brotherhood.”

“He snipped off his own loose ends,” Marianne muses.

“He spoke of you often,” the man reveals. “He wished that you had been born into a life that was free from the clutches of the Templars. And he believed you to be conflicted between your need to satiate your parents’ expectations and your desperation to cling onto some minuscule inkling of good morality. Your husband didn’t die due to loose ends; he died because it was the only way to protect you from the consequences of his decisions.”

“Why would you tell me all of this?” The woman wonders. “What makes you think I am the type of person Claude believed me to be?”

“Because,” he pauses, “instead of bloodshed, we are having a conversation. I confess that I am not much of a killer.” He glances down at his hand. “This blade was used to help my friend. I do not wish to fight with you, Lady Braxton.”

“If you do not wish to fight, then what happens now?”

“If you desire to escape from London, I can help you. I know excellent forgers who will grant you a new identity. You could have the freedom to live the kind of life you wish to follow. My Lady, you could be free of this lifestyle, free from the influence of Templars.”

“No,” Marianne shakes her head. “No, I will not be going anywhere.”

“I realize this is a big decision to make in the spur of the moment,” the Assassin says. “Should you change your mind in the future, I will gladly provide the promised assistance.”

“You misunderstand,” she says. “Without an informant, your information will soon be outdated. I can replace Claude.”

The man sighs. “If the Order catches you, you will be executed.”

“Sir, I may only know life as a Templar, but I know enough to realize that I do not wish to remain as one. They are a terrifying organization, one that aims to rule the world. And if they accomplish that goal, they will do so with the utmost cruelty. The Order must be prevented from gaining more power than they already have. They have already seized control of London and we must stop their influence before it is too late.

“I have seen the experiments that are conducted on captured vampires. They live their lives in constant torture, torment. They are starved, stabbed, electrocuted. Limbs are chopped off, until there is hardly anything left. They are drained, physically and mentally, and it is beyond inhumane. If you could witness what I have seen, you would know that the Templars are the real monsters. They do not care for stopping the infection; they wish only to harness immortality and use it to guarantee their dictatorship.”

“Lady Braxton,” the man smiles, “I believe an alliance between us would be most beneficial.”

Marianne gives him a warm smile in return. “And what is the name of my new partner?”

“I am Henry Green.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Green, despite the grim circumstances.”

Henry drops his smile and lowers his gaze, a feeling of guilt itching inside of his chest. “My condolences for my contribution to your loss.”

“Claude knew what would happen,” she reassures. “He knew that he would not be able to hide forever. His death is not your fault, regardless of the blade clenched between your fingers.”

The man nods his head and tucks the weapon away.

“Most importantly,” Marianne says, “our current circumstances need to be resolved, in a way that avoids any unwanted growth of suspicion about Claude’s loyalty. I will not be able to buy you much time to escape, but I can provide the servants with a brief distraction.”

The woman brings her blade up towards her face and glides the sharp metal against the skin of her jawline. She uses the knife to slice against the sleeves of her dress, destroying the expensive material. Then the woman presses the blade against the newly exposed skin and etches new cuts into her body. She smears the dripping blood along her arm and against the bodice of the dress.

“I hope to see you soon, Mr. Green.” She says, before gesturing to the window. “Go, before it is too late.”

Henry nods and approaches the window. Before he slips through, he turns to cast one last glance at the new widow. But he says nothing, and instead continues with his escape.

When his figure disappears from her sight, Marianne releases an ear-splitting scream.

a/n: hello~ thank you for reading this fic! if you enjoyed what you read, please considering giving this piece a reblog, like, and/or comment. i am a small author, so any and all responses boost my confidence and let me know that people are interested in my work.

considering this is a vampire au and that the assassin’s creed franchise is technically considered a work of science fiction, i’ve accepted the fact that this series will be historically inaccurate. while I won’t do anything crazy like throw in cellphones in the victorian era, I am bound to make mistakes. I am about to start my journey into obtain my MFA in creative writing, which means I will not have the time or energy to properly research each aspect of this time period. this fic is simply a fun side project where I can exercise my writing, while gushing over my favorite chaotic bisexual (lovingly) dumbass assassin.

you can find my other social media at Twitter and Ao3

#jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye x original character #jacob frye x female reader #jacob frye x original female character #assassin's creed #assassin's creed syndicate #assassin's creed fanfic #jacob frye fanfic #assassin's creed syndicate fanfic #v.writings #vostara #emersonsfam #fic: impietas

[nerdy-as-heck]

Bitterly By Your Side

A/N: Me? Posting a fic for the first time in 8 months? I'm just as surprised as you are. Ao3 Link

Summary: Logan is a world-renowned author, but not for his scientific journals. For a romance novel he never intended to publish, and an upcoming movie that would finally get the two it was inspired by together.

Ships: Pre-Prinxiety, background Logicality

Warnings: None

There were a lot of things in this world that didn’t make much sense to Logan. What made someone hate a specific group of people for an unchangeable part of their identity? Why would some people continue to believe a falsehood even after being shown irrefutable evidence? Why the fuck is college so expensive? But this. This went beyond every question that Logan could ask himself. Any amount of logic he tried to apply would shatter into a thousand pieces.

For years, Logan had been a distinguished author. Dozens of academic papers, journals, books, and articles were published under his name, making more breakthroughs in science than one could have ever imagined possible. Some were small advancements, granted, but none were insignificant. But that’s not why the general public knows Logan’s name.

Ten years getting a PhD in Astrophysics and one Nobel prize later, Logan Berry’s name is on the Best-Selling Romance Novel section in every bookstore across the country. And Logan will continue to blame his husband for it every time someone asks.

Not that it was really /entirely/ Patton’s fault. Both of them had been sick of Roman and Virgil’s pining that had been going on since freshman year of college. At least Logan’s infatuation had only lasted a month or so before bluntly asking Patton if he finds him physically attractive; that story always gets a laugh every time they tell it. The four of them had been suitemates during their first year, with Logan and Roman sharing their room while Patton and Virgil had the adjoining one. That was nearly twelve years ago, and yet the two of them still seemed to be clueless as to the other’s emotions, even with all four of them once again living in the same apartment.

All Patton had said was he wished there was a way to see them get together, like a movie or something. Now, Logan couldn't direct or act, but he could write. So, naturally, he did the only thing a sane person would do; he stayed up for three days straight writing a 300 page chaotic mess of the two falling in love. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic, and it definitely ended up being far longer than he had intended. But Logan’s train of thought never seemed to stay quite on track when it came to making his soulmate happy.

Of course, Logan had no interest in simply reading it over and over again himself; he printed out the pages and presented it to Patton as an early birthday present. Logan was under the impression that Patton knew it was a simple gift for his eyes only, nothing more. But Patton hadn’t quite gotten that impression.

Logan hadn’t necessarily made it a ‘fanfiction’. Yes, it was about two hopelessly oblivious in love college roommates that got together in the end. The thing that kept it unique was neither character revealing their actual name until the very ending, instead choosing to use a nom de plume. In this particular case, Roman had called himself “Merlin” and Virgil went by “Storm”. Neither the reader nor the characters within the story would learn their true names until the last chapter.

Apparently Patton did not read to the last chapter. Instead, about halfway through, he had believed it was a good idea to take it straight to a publisher; he couldn’t believe Logan had trusted him with the draft of his first novel!

It wasn’t until Logan got a copy of the book in the mail, fully printed and with his name on the cover, did he realize why Patton hadn’t commented on it after finishing. “Bitterly By Your Side” was already in every store in town and quickly spreading. Logan quickly pulled Patton into their shared room to discuss this with him and show the last page; needless to say, Patton was humiliated that he had done such a thing. It took hours to calm him down. Logan simply believed the book would not be popular and it would be taken down from the shelves in a matter of a few weeks.

He could not have been more wrong.

People slowly began to recognize Logan on the streets, asking for photos or to sign their copy of the book. Stores would reach out to him and schedule book signings, which Logan reluctantly went to as a chance to promote some of his other works. No one was buying any of that.

This was about two years ago. Logan had always scolded Roman and Virgil for not reading as often as they should, but it was unexplainable how grateful he was that they never listened. Not once in those years did the two step foot in a bookstore, see Logan scatter away for a photo when he was found in public, or questions the ‘meeting’ Logan seemed to be going to every other week.

By this point, Logan had gotten used to how things were. It was bringing in money to support the entire group, and no one was hurting for it. Though it still confused him why this was the case, he had accepted it as an unexplainable cosmic phenomenon. Logan didn’t even think twice when allowing a company that approached him to make a movie adaptation, with the promise that Logan could supervise on site, of course.

Months later, and somehow the two’s obliviousness had only gotten worse. It was a true miracle that they never noticed Logan being gone all the time or that Roman didn't pick up on the potential movie acting gig. Though the last wasn’t much of a coincidence; Logan always checked their mail and tossed out any advertisements for it.

Logan had only looked over one important detail; the company picking up the story was Disney. And regardless if they had heard about it before, Virgil and Roman both had a dedication to watching it together day it shows up on Netflix. Patton would always tease Virgil about it being their little “date night”, which would be received by a shove and Virgil’s hood coming up to hide his face.

On the night that this happened, Logan was out late at a midnight book signing, and Patton had agreed to go with to drive him home in case Logan was too exhausted. So for the first time in quite a while, Roman and Virgil had the whole apartment to themselves for movie night. As tradition, Virgil grabbed popcorn, snacks, and drinks, running back to the couch just before Roman clicked play.

“Are you ready for what is sure to be the GREATEST FILM of ALL TIME?”

“You say that every time, Princey. Bitterly By Your Side may be Disney, but its a dumb romance too. It can’t be that good.”

Of course Roman scoffed at that, but before he could continue the argument, Virgil just threw a handful of popcorn at his face and hit play. Storm happened to be the first character that came on screen, and the second Roman saw the actor’s face he gasped and leaned forward.

“That man… Is the love of my life.” Virgil couldn’t help but to laugh at the dramatics of such an early declaration, and for a short time Roman stared at Virgil rather than at the movie.

“You think that guy is good looking? Don’t be ridiculous, he looks like a ten year old that got into his mom’s makeup.” Roman could only glare at Virgil for a few minutes before Merlin came on screen. And then it was Roman’s turn to laugh as Virgil’s jaw literally dropped.

“You can’t be serious! Storm is far more attractive than /that/ over dramatic piece of work!” Virgil didn’t even have the words to argue at the moment, simply shoving a hand over Roman’s mouth as Merlin already had a shirtless scene. It wasn’t more than five seconds later, though, that Virgil realized what he had done and practically shrieked, crawling to the other side of the couch. “S-Sorry… But if that doesn’t prove Merlin is the best, then nothing will.” A simple joke had now turned into a full out war between the two, pointing out each small quality in the other character that made them far superior.

“Look at Storm’s purple eyes! And that long hair, I just want to run my hand through it and kiss that man.”

“They’re probably contacts anyway! Merlin has the swoop in his hair that at least doesn’t block his /actual/ green emerald eyes!”

“But that’s the thing, Storm is so shy yet abrasive at the same time! His hiding just makes his natural beauty all the better!”

“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you over Merlin’s fifth shirtless scene.”

Of course, it was all joking banter. Despite the insults thrown from time to time, this was a typical thing for the two of them, and tonight wasn’t any different. It only finally died down at a point where the movie was getting ready to end. For some reason, Roman was a moron. Well. Virgil knew that already. A cute moron, but still a moron, one that had decided to run to the bathroom right after the climax of the movie and refused to let Virgil pause it. In the short time, Roman was gone, that was all the movie needed to make Virgil’s fight or flight response kick in.

“Now that we’re dating, shouldn’t I at least get to know your name, angel?”

“...Its Virgil.”

“Roman. A pleasure to finally meet the real you.”

That was. A weird coincidence. But with anxiety, nothing ever felt like things could be so coincidental. So once Roman came back, Virgil was on his phone, googling the book, and every word he read just made his face burn even more.

  Bitterly By Your Side is a romance novel by Logan Berry, published in 2017. In recent interviews, he has confessed to it being inspired by real life events and people he knows, though for now he wishes the details to remain private.

...Oh Logan is so dead when he gets back.

“H e y!” Virgil was next to be assaulted with popcorn as he pulled his hood up to avoid Roman seeing his face right now. “Get off your phone and watch the eye candy! Storm is back on screen!”

...Storm. The character inspired by Virgil. That Roman had been calling hot all night long. And Virgil had done the same to Merlin. Virgil didn’t focus much on the rest of the movie, far too busy trying to hide his ever reddening face and cursing the entire world. Once the movie finally ended, Roman stood up to give the TV a round of applause. But before the credits, there was one more thing…

  And now, an interview with the author of the original book: Logan Berry!

Roman was understandably shocked and sat back down, confused as to when Logan had written a book without telling them. With every word spoken on the show, Virgil’s heart sunk deeper and he made another promise to kill Logan tomorrow.

  Yes, it is true that this novel was inspired on true events. I have two friends that have been obliviously in love with each other for nearly twelve years now, despite mine and my husband’s encouragement for them to confess. Storm and Mer- Well, I suppose I can use their real names now, it's no spoiler since this is shown after the movie. I don't blame either Virgil or Roman for their hopeless pining, it's just something my husband tired of and wished to see come to life in case it never did in person.

After that sentence, Roman was quick to turn off the TV. At least now it made sense why Virgil had curled up into a ball on the couch during the interview. Silence. Silence that lasted far too long for either of them to stand, yet neither had the will to break it.

Surprisingly, Virgil was the one to swallow his pride first. “...so. Eye candy, huh?”

Not even a second later, Virgil felt a pillow hit his head. “Oh shut up! You’re one to talk! Drooling in every shirtless scene in the whole movie!”

There wasn’t a coherent comeback in Virgil’s mind, so instead he just flipped Roman off from his hoodie protection. Roman, being the prick he was, couldn’t let it go so easily though, grabbing Virgil’s hand and ignoring his own pounding heart as he pulled the two closer together. Safe to say, Virgil felt like he was going to explode. “You know the real thing is always better than fiction.”

And then for some unknown reason, one that he would claim to this day as temporary insanity, Virgil’s mind had decided it was time for him to be the moron today. The only thing he could think to do was kiss Roman, so he did. Both were surprised and afraid, but neither pulled away. Not in the first few minutes, not even in the first hour. It was a scene that easily could have rivaled the masterpiece of a movie in itself. By the end of it, they were both out of breath and exhausted, choosing to simply sleep together on the couch.

“...goodnight, Storm…” “Night, Merlin.”

Still. They were going to kill Logan in the morning. But for now, it was just them, and that was enough.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #au #author!logan #mutual pining #pining #domestic logicality #first kiss #crush #bitterly by your side

[of-muppets-and-men]

Penumbra

Chapter 7: Daybreak

New update i forgot to post here. Whoops. AO3 link if prefer it instead.

Another hushed morning in the Soul Society.

It was around five’o’clock, a time where most souls were still very much asleep. Seated Officers, Lieutenants, and a handful of Squad Captains as well. An unforeseen benefit of the peaceful era they’d fought for. No real remaining threats outside of common hollows necessitated any sort of urgency. Complacent as it may seem, Head Captain Kyoraku had made it clear this was to be mandated.

After all, the majority of the shinigami reserve forces needn’t bother themselves with the potential return of Yhwach. They wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. 

As much as Yoruichi wished to take full advantage of said mandate, Suì-Fēng  had other ideas. The former captain and current lieutenant of Squad 2 wouldn’t let her Captain slack off for any reason whatsoever. Paperwork, logistics, training. All seemingly without end. And so Yoruichi sat at her desk, stacks upon stacks of paperwork surrounding her and her dutiful lieutenant. Suì-Fēng was almost too happy to be once again serving her beloved Lady Yoruichi.

“UGhhhh… Can we take a break yet? It’s too early for this…” The Captain groaned.

“My Lady, we can’t afford to slack off. What example are we setting for the squad if we do?” Her Lieutenant lecture.

Yoruichi pressed her head against her desk, folded arms over her head. Suì-Fēng chuckled at her Captain’s dismay when it hit. A massive wave of spiritual pressure came out of nowhere, sending a shiver down both their spines. The room quaked, the air reverberated. It was so dense, Suì-Fēng could barely breathe, the pressure on her lungs becoming overwhelming. As she leaned against the desk, struggling to stand, she felt a hand at her waist propping her up. Suì-Fēng’s gaze drew upward to see Yoruichi’s face adorned with shock. She immediately recognized the spiritual energy cascading and pulsing through the air.

“Captain.. Who is that?”

“Katsumi…” was all she whispered in return, “Let’s go, Suì-Fēng.”

The commander of the punishment force bolted out of her office with Suì-Fēng in tow. Flash Stepping as fast she could through the halls of her manor, desperately trying to reach her daughter’s room. The Captain and her lieutenant practically broke the door open to see Katsumi standing on her bed, zanpakuto in hand. The main difference being it was no longer the normal Odachi she handed to Katsumi the night before. It was bigger, much bigger.

It couldn’t be, she thought to herself. Yoruichi pushed herself towards Katsumi, her own weight betraying her with every step. Suì-Fēng stood bereft of strength or words, marvelling at the inherent power of a mere child. Katsumi’s mother shook her awake with whatever willpower remained. The young girl’s eyes peered open, tired and confused, her mother’s distraught golden eyes staring back at her.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“Shikai…” Yoruichi quietly remarked, now truly seeing the blade Katsumi held.

Now perhaps more confused than before, Katsumi puzzled “What?”

“Don’t worry about anything for now. You were releasing absurd amounts of spirit energy, so I thought something was wrong. I’ll tell you everything after breakfast. But it looks like we’re starting your training sooner than i thought…” Her mother explained.

Katsumi’s fatigue came surging back, causing the girl to fall asleep for another three hours, and Zanpakuto still safely in her clutches. The paperwork Yoruichi had left behind was soon finished in a lightning round between Suì-Fēng and herself. Now with Katsumi achieving Shikai, she had no time to dawdle with her Squad’s trivial matters. Though she still had trouble believing it; Shikai? After barely telling Katsumi what it was? Rukia… Ichigo… your daughter is a prodigy, The Captain repeated in her mind. 

Prodigy. A broad term but true in every sense in Katsumi’s case. She was progressing at an outrageous pace that would make Captain Hitsugaya jealous. If she could achieve Shikai in little more than an afternoon, how long would it take her to learn the other aspects of a Shinigami. 

Zanjutsu? Shunpo? Kido? Hakuda? Shunko? Or perhaps even Bankai? Goosebumps littered Yoruichi’s arms at the thought. 

Not long after Yoruichi managed to finish slogging through her less exciting duties as Captain, Katsumi at last woke up. Albeit still hazy on what had occurred beforehand. But fortunately, both their troubles could be eased by a spot of breakfast. Together, they made their way to the expansive dining room in the center of the manor. There Katsumi gorged her little mouth on Onigiri; Pickled Plum, her favourite. As the child ate her fill, her curiosity spiked yet again, prompting Katsumi to bombard Yoruichi with questions.

“So mom? Are you gonna tell me what ‘Shikai’ is? How did my sword get so big? Can yours do that…” the girl babbled on and on.

“Whoa! Slow down there, kiddo. Before I answer any of those questions, there’s a place I wanna show you first. Kinda like a secret hideout.”

“Secret Hideout?!” Katsumi reiterated with glee.

“Mhmm. Wanna see it?”

“Uhh, Yeah!”

“Then let’s go. Make sure to bring your Zanpakuto with you.” Yoruichi said lovingly.

In a flash, Katsumi cleaned and dried the dishes and stormed down the hallways in search of her blade. Meanwhile her mother stood astonished at her endless enthusiasm. As Yoruichi waited, she began to reminisce on how she had brought Ichigo to the very same place all those years ago. If only you could meet her, Yoruichi lamented on Ichigo’s absence. A part of Yoruichi would never understand Rukia’s decisions; why she never found the heart to confess… but at the very least, Katsumi was happy. But for how much longer?

“Mom! I got it!” Katsumi announced from down the hall.

Yoruichi shook her head, shaking off her darker thoughts and focused on her daughter, “Well, let’s get a move on then.”

The elder soul grabbed a pack she’d asked one of her many attendants to prepare, filled with an abundance of snacks; including a new pocky flavour Kisuke procured for her. The lady of the house made her way to the courtyard, her staff bowing politely as she passed by. To Katsumi’s surprise, her mother knelt down and coaxed her to grab hold.

“C’mon sweetheart. It’ll be faster this way.”

“Umm Okay…” Katsumi replied, doing as she instructed.

“Alright. And a one and a two and…”

Just like that, the pair vanished into thin air. Yoruichi Flash Stepped from rooftop to rooftop with little effort doing so. Katsumi beamed with delight as they soared over the Seireitei; other souls appearing as no more than insignificant flecks. The girl’s vision arbitrarily gawked to and fro at every landmark in sight. Until she felt a tap from her Yoruichi, who then pointed toward Sokyoku hill.

“That’s where we need to be.”

“Why there?”

Yoruichi chuckled and purred, “You’ll see.”

Instead of landing on the hill like she’d anticipated, her mother swerved left toward an inconspicuous little alcove built in the rock face. The young soul hopped off her mother’s shoulders and inspected the quaint little hideout. Although, Katsumi couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“I like it but are you sure it’s big enough?”

Yoruichi smirked at Katsumi’s child-like chagrin, “Follow me.”

Yoruichi then opened a hatch Katsumi hadn’t noticed before, carefully hidden amongst the floor tiles. A light jump and Yoruichi disappeared down the hole. Katsumi rushed over to look down the hatchway, seeing darkness with a vague hint of light at the bottom. With a deep sigh to psyche herself up, Katsumi followed her mother’s example and jumped.

The fall lasted a few seconds despite looking far deeper, or so her young mind conjured. She opened her eyes to see a vast cavern, far bigger than she could’ve ever imagined. Yoruichi ruffled a hand delicately through Katsumi’s hair and she ogled at every inch of her old training grounds.

“Impressed now?” Her mother asked coyly.

Even without uttering a single syllable, Yoruichi could tell she exceeded her daughter’s expectations. 

“Shall we begin?” The Captain questioned once more.

“Yes!” Katsumi replied, nodding so hard it looked like her head would pop off.

“Alright. But first and foremost; here, you are my student and I am your teacher. You listen to me no differently than you do at home, okay?”

Another enthusiastic nod. In a moment’s notice, Yoruichi jumped onto a higher platform, arms crossed like an instructor.

“Good. Now you must know that all Zanpakuto have three states. The first is the unreleased states, which you have now. The next is Shikai, when a Shinigami learns the name of his or her Zanpakuto. And the last state is Bankai, but today you’ll be learning how to summon your Shikai at will.”

“How will I do that?” Katsumi mused.

“By learning your release command. A specific word that will transform your Zanpakuto into the form you saw last night.”

The young soul searched her mind to remember that form. Its shape and design.. What was it? Delving further, it came back to her, slowly but surely. A massive cleaving blade, far larger than it was now, with metal bands lining a hollow center. She could recall it with perfect clarity; Tōgetsu’s true form. But what was the release command?

“How will I know the right word?” She pleaded.

“Unsheathe your blade and find out.” Yoruichi snidely lectured.

A quick pout escaped Katsumi’s lungs before she did as her mother instructed. She removed the sash from her shoulder, drawing the greatsword from its scabbard. It felt like forever since she held it properly, the weightlessness of it catching her off guard as it had the first time. But expectantly, the blade remained silent; Katsumi unable to her Tōgetsu’s voice as she had previously. She held it every which way but alas, it changed nothing.

“Why won’t isn’t it working?!!”  Katsumi shouted in frustration.

While her daughter fiddled with her zanpakuto, she slipped back by her side and calmly placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Easy, Katsumi. This isn’t a thing that can be forced so just breathe and concentrate. Your Zanpakuto will do the rest.”

The girl huffed and puffed but ultimately headed her mother’s advice. She held the blade steady in both hands, closed her eyes and took deep deliberate breaths. 

Tōgetsu, tell me how to release you. 

Silence. 

Tōgetsu, please…

Remember my name and dream… A voice she knew whispered.

“Dream, Tōgetsu.” Katsumi repeated.

She opened her eyes and marvelled alongside her mother at the now transformed blade in her hands. Katsumi erupted with joy; Yoruichi rubbed a hand through her daughter’s hair.

“You did it, Sweetheart.” Yoruichi said lovingly as Katsumi continued to giggle, “Now let’s practice the basics.”

Later that same day

Rukia was alone in the Kuchiki household, preparing for bed. Renji had more business to attend to at the Sixth Division barracks alongside Byakuya, so both of them would be spending the night there. Ichika was sound asleep and had been for the past hour. Rukia had every intention of following suit. At least, she was until a Hell Butterfly came sputtering through her open window. 

Puzzled, she held out a hand for the messenger to land on, unsure of who’s voice to expect. Low and behold, Yoruichi’s voice came through.

Rukia. Meet me at my old hideout beneath Sokyoku Hill. There is something you absolutely must see. Also, make sure you come alone.

Before Rukia could even respond, the butterfly flew off back out the window, leaving Rukia alone with her thoughts. Something I need to see? What on earth did that mean? Far too tired to give it any more thought, Rukia slipped beneath her covers, drifting off into a deep slumber. The morning would come soon enough.

And so it did.

Rukia managed to slip away under the guise of running an errand, leaving Renji and Ichika at home. The acting captain made her way through the semi busy streets, ducking through alleyways to avoid any members of her squad. Eventually, she made it to the alcove Yoruichi had shown her years before. Speaking of her old friend, she stood waiting for her to arrive.

“Yoruichi, what’s this all about? First you send me a message in the middle of the night and now have me sneaking through the Seireitei to get here.”

“You’ll see once we get down there.”

Both women handed down into the depths of the old training area, but mid-descent, Rukia heard unfamiliar grunts and shouts. She focused her ears on the encroaching voice, clarifying the closer she got. And the reiatsu Rukia felt… Katsumi?

It had to be. But it’s strength was unlike anything her daughter had mustered before. Definitely stronger than an officer, perhaps even matching most of the current Captains…

Rukia followed her old friend deeper into the cavern, tracing the origin of her firstborn’s voice. However, the closer she got, the more apparent Katsumi’s increasing might became. Her legs slowly turning to jelly, the weight of her petite frame pressing down upon her. But even though Rukia’s breaths shortened with every step, she felt no fear of any kind. Just happiness. 

Finally, Katsumi came into sight, intently practicing the basic forms of zanjutsu. From mere meters away, Rukia watched on as her eldest’s reiatsu encircled her like a blazing torch. Wind swirled and danced around her aura. Its breathtaking silver hue overpowering the natural light of the surrounding cavern. Tears of joy formed in the corners of Rukia’s violet eyes, Yoruichi standing by her side rubbing her back.

“She looks so much like him…” Rukia gushed, half-heartedly wiping at her eyelids.

A smile and a chuckle escaped Yoruichi’s lips, “That she does… Oi! Katsumi! Look who’s here.”

The girl’s concentration broke, the energy around her dissipating like snow. Katsumi’s eyes locked with Rukia’s, violet mirroring violet. A grin from ear to ear materialized on the girl’s face, full on sprint towards her beloved ‘aunt’. 

“AUNTIE RUKIA!!” She screamed, colliding with a thud.

“Hello, sweetie.” Rukia smiled in return.

The two shared an earnest hug that Yoruichi felt hard pressed to interrupt, “Care to show Auntie Rukia what you’ve been practicing?”

“Practicing?” Rukia said as she felt her daughter’s warmth slip away from her.

Bewildered, the woman watched Katsumi assume a stance with her Zanpakuto. It didn’t resemble any form taught at the academy so what in the world was she up to? Eyes closed, the apprentice brought the blade an inch before her forehead. With her grip slack, Reiatsu surged around her yet again. But unlike previously, it felt more calm, controlled… like the delicate wisps of candlelight. And in a serene voice, Katsumi spoke the name.

“Dream, Tōgetsu!”

Rukia was speechless.

Shikai. Her little one had attained Shikai. 

Her heart danced around in her ribcage, slowly succumbing to her emotions. The baby she had left in Yoruichi’s care for fear of banishment, had bloomed magnificently. Before Rukia even knew it, tears had begun streaming down her cheeks. She made no attempt to wipe them, knowing they’d only be replaced by more. So instead, she smiled and Katsumi smiled back.

“When did this happen?” Rukia finally managed to say.

“Last night. She was sleeping one minute, then releasing spirit pressure the next. Scary to think what she’ll be like a few years from now. You and Ichigo sure made one frightening kid.”

The old friends chuckled as Katsumi eagerly cleaved a boulder in half. 

Katsumi was strong. And still had more room to grow.

#Bleach #bleach oc #ichiruki #pro ichiruki #rukia x ichigo #ichigo x rukia #ichigo kurosaki #Rukia Kuchiki #yoruichi shihouin #katsumi kurosaki #sui feng #Penumbra

[wholesomeromy]

This post is dedicated to @cabinhargreeves because I just love it when you cry :)

But anygays this is a short carry on au I randomly decided to write because I love angst and heartache and my gays!

This is also very much inspired but that one quote "Everything will end in flames". So yeah,,,, okay enjoy!!

Simon was the first of them to move. His wings flapped in small movements behind him and he flew up through the hole in the ceiling. He was keenly aware of Baz's hand brushing against his tail as he tried to stop him from entering the damned room. But he had to do this. He had to save them. Even if it meant he couldn't save himself.

And it seemed that that was what was happening. He saw the "problem" that so many had referenced, had feared. And it was about the blow.

A pulsing bright light brought him back to that night. The night he lost his magic and was stuck as a normal forever. A normal with dragon wings and a tail that is.

He felt his tail twitch and wrap around his leg as if he it was telling him not to step any closer. As if it knew what was about to happen.

Simon knew, could sense it, smell it, that someone was going to die tonight. He had that feeling in the bottom of his gut that twisted and pulled against him. That was when he decided if it was going to be anyone, it was going to be him.

Penny and Baz still had to finish Univeristy, still had a chance. Agatha had her classes, her friend, even her dog, back in America. Sheppard still had so much he had to explore and befriend, so much to learn about the world of mages. But Simon? What did he have?

His family was dead. His magic had been gone for over a year now. He broke it off with his boyfriend. His best friend was slowly drifting away. He already lost Agatha and Sheppard wasn't anyone particularly important to him, but he knew that they were both heading back to America once this was over and he would likely never see or speak to either of them again.

So what else was there to lose?

What was one insignificant life compared to the whole world of mages, his friends' world?

He darted forward, wrapping his blood red wings around himself and the soon to go off bomb. He heard the cries from his friends, who were still struggling to get into the room.

They had almost completely exhausted their magic on their journey to get this far and barely even had enough for open sesame let alone float like a butterfly.

There was no way his friends were getting up here any time soon. But that was okay. No. That was more than okay. That was perfect.

He didn't want them to see this; he didn't want his friends to see anymore death in this room. Not after Ebb and the Mage. He knew Penny and Baz wouldn't be able to handle it, even if they acted like they were fine.

He felt the magic hit him clean in his chest, a warm pulsing to begin with, a now so foreign feeling to him, which soon turned to an awful burning itch that spread across the front of his body. He felt his wings shudder, protesting to stay in place, but he stayed strong and held his ground, his arms wrapping around the pure energy emitting into him.

He knew he wanted to cry out in pain. He knew he opened his mouth. But he couldn't anything other than pops in his ears. He wondered if his friends could hear him, if Baz could hear his cries. Shit. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about him, not when he was about to die.

But maybe that was the perfect time. The perfect time to go over all his regrets and missed opportunities to smile and have fun with his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. They broke up. They split. They separated. They parted ways, though not really.

Even after Simon told him to leave him, to save himself and the others, he stayed. An unbreakable force by his side. But Simon didn't want that. He didn't want him there anymore. It was too difficult to look at his grey face, his dark eyes and his long hair and not just want to kiss him till he lost his breath. But he held back. He knew that Baz didn't want that anymore, Baz just couldn't be happy with him like they were before.

But Simon couldn't help but love him.

He loved him so hopelessly that the guilt of keeping him all to himself was building up dangerously through his whole system. Oddly enough, it kinda felt like the way the magic was seering the skin off his body at that very moment.

Simon felt his tears falling down his cheeks, the sound of them instantly burning against the "problem" almost as loud as the popping. He still couldn't hear his cries of pain; whether he was really calling out or not he didn't know.

He didn't know if his friends had found a way up into the dusty room, he hadn't heard anything, hadn't felt any hands trying to pull him away, but that meant nothing. He wasn't bothered with what they were doing right now as long as they weren't anywhere near here.

Agatha, Penny and Baz would likely have no idea on how to get up through the hole, but he knew that Sheppard was quick on his toes when it came to doing things the "normal way". All he would need would be a ladder or suggesting they stand on each others shoulders and they'd manage to climb up easily.

But it was too late now. The magic was almost all gone, and so was Simon.

He felt light headed and unsteady on his feet, but he kept himself up straight, kept his wings wrapped tightly around his body, kept his head down against the explosion of power.

And then it was all over.

Just like that. It was over. Simon didn't know what happened, didn't know how it all happened. All he knew was the skin on his front was burning.

Finally he felt something else. Something cold and soft. Hands. Baz's hands. They lifted him up by his arms until he felt the hard press of Baz's chest against his back.

He shakily wrapped one of his wings around Baz's back to make him more comfortable. His tail twitched and flicked along the floor.

He heard Baz crying out for help, crying for Penny and Agatha to hurry up. To save him. But there was nothing they would be able to do. They were all completely drained.

Baz kept crying, his tears dampening in Simon's hair as he rocked back and forth and clutched at his arms for safety.

"Wake up, Snow." He wept, pressing his forehead into Simon's curls. He hadn't cut his hair in a while, not since America, and it was already growing out in unruly directions. He thought he probably should have got it cut, but it didn't matter because now he was going to die. But atleast he was going to die in the arms of the person he loved the most.

"I'm awake." Simon slurred. His voice came out ragid and hoarse. His lips were torn and burnt, his jaw was bloodied and sore.

He heard Baz laugh. Just once. A sad laugh filled with tears and hope. Baz stroked his bronze curls between his long fingers and pulled Simon in closer, gently as he kept in mind the harsh burns across his chest.

"You're such an idiot." Baz whispered. "An idiot."

"Yeah..."

"Just stay with me, okay?" Baz gripped tighter, a sharp breath escaping through his lips. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not like this."

He winced. Not at the pain but at the sudden thought of losing Baz. This whole time he'd wanted nothing more than to separate himself from him, just to let him be happy. "Sorry." He whispered back. It was barely audible with his voice so hoarse but Baz just clutched onto him tighter and cried louder.

"Shut up." He said. "Just stop."

Simon finally managed to open his eyes. His vision was dark and fuzzy and he couldn't make much out of the scene ahead of him. But that didn't matter. All he needed to see right now Baz. "Look-" he choked on the words as they tried to leave his tongue.

Baz gasped and pushed him forward slightly so he didn't choke on anything in his throat. Simon let his eyes fall shit again, the pain of trying to keep them open slowly becoming more and more unbearable.

"Snow." Baz carefully turned his head so that Simon was finally facing him. "Snow look at me. Please."

Simon slowly opened his eyes again, not all the way but enough to make out Baz's face. His white and grey complection beneath the dark pitch of his black hair which had fallen out of the ponytail he had put it up in earlier. Strands stuck to his cheeks which were wet from tears that slid down along his cheekbones and dripped from his sharp jaw.

Simon tried his best to smile. There must've been something on his face that look remotely close to the happiness he suddenly felt in that moment because Baz's eyes lit up, just as they had the first time they kissed when the forest around them was burning. When Baz was ready to end it all.

Simon still hadn't noticed whether Penny, Agatha and Sheppard where in the room yet or not. He thought that Baz perhaps told them to stay away, just in case. And he was glad that they weren't there to see him like this.

Penny. His first and best friend. They had gone through so much together from fighting the Hundrum to tracking across a rather pathetic amount of America. And for once, he was happy to not have her by his side.

Agatha. His first girlfriend. They may have had their moments but Simon would never be able to forget that first Christmas he stayed at her house in the guest room down the hall from hers. He'll never forget all the Doctor Who marathons or the time he managed to rescue her from that well all those years ago.

Sheppard. He barely knew the guy, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate all his efforts to help them out. He'd saved them more than a few time whilst in America and had lost count how many times he'd helped whilst in England. He would never be able to repay him for all the countless times he kept his friends alive and safe.

He felt himself drifting, felt his breath holding on for dear life as it tried to stay in his lungs. Baz, of course, must've heard the sudden slowing of his heart. His face fell and he pushed his forehead against Simon's as his tears escaped faster and faster.

Simon was sure he felt his heart brale in those last few moments of consciousness. As he heard Baz quietly proclaim those five words. The last words he'll ever hear.

"I love you, Simon Snow."

#wow this sucks sorry #hope you cried mina >:) #snowbaz #simon snow #baz grimm pitch #baz pitch #carry on #wayward son #agatha wellbelove #penny bunce #penelope bunce #sheppard from omaha #wait is he from omaha? #or is he #sheppard from Iowa #who knows honestly #angst #hc #angst hc #headcanon #carry on headcanon #carry on hc #carry on au #au

[awashsquid]

The long-awaited (for @sittingoverheredreaming, at least) Part 4 of this commissioned series! Group post here, if you need to catch up. If you like it, drop Sam a thanks for commissioning me, or give a comment or reblog - we authors thrive on feedback! Hope y’all enjoy.

The next hour passed in such a daze of quick events that Michiru scarcely recalled them even as they occurred, one moment bleeding into the next like inexpertly applied watercolors, mingling until the entire canvas was muddied beyond recognition of what it once was, what it should have been.  There were doctors in and out of the room, she recalled, and she knew that she had signed several documents with a shaking hand, her signature remaining as delicate and ornamental as it had ever been, still a perfect piece of artistry even as the canvas of her world rended itself into scraps of confetti.  

Haruka never left her vision again, staring at her intensely with those green eyes that she knew couldn’t be real but somehow had never felt more alive, the lips that she knew could not be there, and yet she could feel when they brushed against her head, her hand, her cheek.  The pain as her wounds knitted back into place was nothing compared to the searing agony in her chest, each beat of her traitorously living heart a reminder that she had ruined everything to save Haruka, to save the woman that she loved, and she had not even succeeded in that effort.

Once she was settled at home the others left her room, Rei doing so only after instructing her gently to get some sleep.  Hotaru offered to stay and provide healing, but Michiru asked to have some time alone - except she wasn’t really alone, Haruka was sitting on the bottom of the bed - and Hotaru did not push further.  The heavy wooden door shut and Michiru turned to the phantom of her lover, not wanting to say the words aloud but knowing that she needed to in order for them to become true.

“You are not really here.  My Haruka is dead.”  The sentence came out in a whisper that turned into a strangled, choking sob, her weakness on full display as tears ran openly down her face, dotting the hospital gown she still wore with markers of her own incompetence.

Haruka - not Haruka, she corrected internally, some manifestation of my own subconscious - shrugged in that same casual way she had a thousand times, her shoulders lifting slightly before relaxing again.  “I’m as here as you want me to be, Michi.”  She flipped herself onto her knees and crawled closer, and Michiru could swear that she felt weight and heat from where Haruka’s body covered her own.  “I’m as real as you need me to be.”  She kissed her again, less gently this time, a hand winding through Michiru’s hair in a familiar caress. 

“This isn’t real,” Michiru whispered between kisses, shaking her head.

Haruka smirked devilishly, her free hand wandering downwards, Michiru gasping softly.  “I’ll make it feel real.”  Michiru bit her lip, knowing that the touches weren’t really happening but unable to deny their effect on her regardless.  “Does this feel real to you?”  She let out a soft whimper under the familiar caresses, Haruka’s practiced hands knowing exactly what she wanted.

Haruka drew back suddenly, ceasing her touches, and Michiru nearly groaned with frustration.  “Do you want me to go away, Michi?  Just tell me to leave, and I’m not real any more.”  The sparkle in her eyes and the growing, almost predatory smile on her face indicated that she already knew the response, and as Michiru leaned forward to press her lips against her lover’s, she tasted of apples.

--

At the Shrine across town, Mercury pored over her handheld computer and studied the flashing symbols on the screen with ferocity.  The knowledge of how to unlock the hidden data from the days of the Silver Millenium had been gifted to her when she remembered the ancient, long-dead language that had been used then, its characters foreign to all living eyes but hers now.  She smiled at the thought that she was the last person with such knowledge, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“How are we progressing, Mercury?”

Mercury jumped internally as the cool voice washed over her like a wave, whipping around and falling to a knee as instinctively as she breathed, the motion just as effortless and necessary.  “My Queen,” she responded, the air in front of her lips fogging just slightly, her element showing itself more in the presence of its mistress.  Her eyes stared at the hem of the white gown in front of her, everything else in the room dim and dull by comparison of its pearlescent shine.

“‘Princess’; I am not Queen as of yet,” she corrected, and Mercury felt a trickle of sweat freeze to the skin on her back, icing over.  “Stand, Mercury, and give me a report.”  A pause - then, as an afterthought: “Please.”  The last word sounded out of place with the others, a switch from her natural cadence to an attempt to pronounce a concept from a newly-learned foreign language.  Mercury stood and raised her eyes to the face of her ruler, though never high enough to make eye contact, her gaze resting on the flawless porcelain cheekbones.

“Princess,” Mercury forced out with mild effort, which she endured because she could not fathom the thought of disobedience, “As you are aware, Jupiter expended her energies greatly during the battle.  She was left in a comatose state.  You chose to revive me -” revive seemed the wrong word somehow; she had never been dead, just slumbering beneath the surface of a weak-willed teenage girl, one whose favor of kindness over science disgusted her - “two days ago, and have been resting your energies since then.”  

Her gaze drifted past Serenity to the bed behind her where Jupiter lay, Sleeping Beauty tucked between Rei’s anime-themed sheets, still and unresponsive as a fairytale illustration.  “There has been no change in Jupiter’s status.  I remain unable to wake her, and it is only through your daily energy sharing that she continues to exist in this state.”  The knowledge of her failure hung greatly over her head, and she resisted the urge to drop to her knees and beg forgiveness, if only because her Princess would not stand groveling from her soldiers.

“Scan me.  I would know the probability of a successful revival at my current energy levels.”  Mercury nodded and took a step backwards, raising the computer and tapping a few buttons to bring up the proper display.  Data scrolled across her visor and screen simultaneously as she allowed the computer to work, a few moments of silence passing as the calculations were completed.

“The probability of success at this time would be approximately 86.83%, Princess.  There is a 8.49% chance that she would improve slightly but not wake; a 3.14% chance that no change would occur, and a 1.54% chance that you would extend your own energies too greatly and damage yourself.  Given these values, I believe that you could safely awaken her at this time.”

The Princess-Queen glanced over at Jupiter in the bed, still and fragile and somehow looking so small, despite being taller than either of the other women.  Serenity nodded sharply.  “Very well, Mercury.  Your diligence is noted and appreciated.”  She frowned even as Mercury bent at the waist slightly, a thanks for the compliment that her body performed naturally.  “Will I need to recharge so long before waking Uranus?  And what of Pluto?”

Mercury shook her head lightly, ice-blue hair sweeping out of her eyes.  “No, my Q- Princess,” she corrected hastily, “your powers were much more significantly depleted from your own transformation, eliminating the opposing army, and purifying myself.  Awakening Jupiter will use a large amount of your energy, but it should recharge significantly faster.  I estimate that you will be able to revive Uranus within 24 hours.”

Serenity’s rose-petal lips curled into a tiny smile, so minute and controlled that a less observant party could have assumed it was a trick of the lighting; but Mercury was nothing if not an efficient tool for data intake, and so she catalogued the discrepancy as she continued to speak.  “Pluto’s body has yet to be discovered.  As the area has been thoroughly canvassed, my current theory is that she dematerialized and was instantly reincarnated at the Time Gate, as is typical of her position.  We do not currently possess a means of reaching the Time Gate to confirm this hypothesis.  My recommendation is to classify Pluto as a lost asset.”

The rose of Serenity’s lips wilted, and the thorns of her perfectly white teeth poked out from underneath the small curl of disgust.  “That is...disappointing, indeed.”  Pluto had been one of the stronger defensive Senshi, and Mercury knew that from a tactical standpoint the loss of her power was not insignificant.  “Still,” Serenity continued, taking small, gliding steps towards the bed where Jupiter lay.  “We will have the rest back soon.  Beginning with her.”

She stopped at the bedside, pale hand reaching out somewhat tenderly to brush back the bangs from Jupiter’s forehead.  Serenity’s eyes, as blue and as cold as the most rare of sapphires, closed as she touched a single finger to the center of the prone woman’s forehead.  The golden moon on her face began to glow, its aura traveling downwards over her unearthly pale skin from her neck, to her arm, to that extended finger, and finally onto Jupiter before disappearing into her forehead.  Serenity’s brow creased slightly as the light increased in strength, crescendoing until there was a single bright flash of white light that forced Mercury’s eyes to squint shut, unable to withstand the intensity.

When she reopened her eyes, Serenity looked slightly less radiant than she had a few moments prior - her sapphire eyes were fogged over as though in need of a polish, and the subtle sparkle that her skin always seemed to hold now was emphasized by the light layer of sweat that crossed her chest.  The woman in the bed looked much the same, except that her hair had lightened a few shades, a more medium-brown at the roots fading into a tan shade towards the bottom.  Her eyes opened to reveal the other change in Jupiter’s appearance, the bright yellow irises seeming to crackle with electricity.  

She sat up quickly, a near-predatory smile on her face as she cracked her neck, then her knuckles, the second causing small sparks to fly from her hands as she did so.  Jupiter rose from the bed, steady as though she hadn’t just been in a coma moments ago, and knelt at Serenity’s feet.  Mercury knew chastising her for such strain would get nowhere - Jupiter had never been one to listen to reason - and so chose to put her energy into performing a basic vitals scan, just to ensure that all had gone as it should have.

“My Queen,” came Jupiter’s voice, rumbling and sure.

This time, Serenity did not correct the title.  “Rise, Jupiter.  There is much work to be done if we are to enact Crystal Tokyo.”

Jupiter did as she was commanded, a broad smirk spreading across her face as tiny crackles of electricity danced across her knuckles.  “I can’t wait to begin.”

#my writing #commissioned work #sittingoverheredreaming #fanfiction #sailor moon #michiru kaioh #sailor neptune #haruka tenoh #sailor uranus #usagi tsukino #neo-queen serenity #ami mizuno #sailor mercury #makoto kino #sailor jupiter #this is kind of a stop-gap before the next chap where things pick back up a bit #sorry if it is at all anti-climactic aha

[makistar2018]

Taylor Swift on Sexism, Scrutiny, and Standing Up for Herself

AUGUST 8, 2019 By ABBY AGUIRRE Photographed by INEZ AND VINOODH

Cover Look Taylor Swift wears a Louis Vuitton jumpsuit. Rings by Cartier and Bvlgari. To get this look, try: Dream Urban Cover in Classic Ivory, Fit Me Blush in Pink, Tattoostudio Sharpenable Gel Pencil Longwear Eyeliner Makeup in Deep Onyx, The Colossal Mascara, Brow Ultra Slim in Blonde, and Shine Compulsion by Color Sensational Lipstick in Undressed Pink. All by Maybelline New York. Hair, Christiaan; makeup, Fulvia Farolfi. Fashion Editor: Tonne Goodman

Photographed by Inez & Vinoodh, Vogue, September 2019

IT’S A SUNDAY AFTERNOON in Tribeca, and I’m in Taylor Swift’s loft, inside a former printing house that she has restored and fortified into a sanctuary of brick, velvet, and mahogany. The space is warm and cozy and vaguely literary—later, when we pass through her bedroom en route to her garden, 10 percent of my brain will believe her wardrobe might open up to Narnia. Barefoot in a wine-colored floral top and matching flowy pants, Swift is typing passwords into a laptop to show me the video for “You Need to Calm Down,” eight days before she unleashes it on the world.

I have a sliver of an idea what to expect. A few weeks earlier, I spent a day at the video shoot, in a dusty field-slash-junkyard north of Los Angeles. Swift had made it a sort of Big Gay Candy Mountain trailer park, a Technicolor happy place. The cast and crew wore heart-shaped sunglasses—living, breathing lovey-eyes emoji—and a mailbox warned, LOVE LETTERS ONLY.

Swift and a stream of costars filmed six scenes over about a dozen hours. The singer-songwriter Hayley Kiyoko, known to her fans as “Lesbian Jesus,” shot arrows at a bull’s-eye. The YouTube comedian-chef Hannah Hart danced alongside Dexter Mayfield, the plus-size male model and self-described “big boy in heels.” The Olympic figure skater Adam Rippon served up icy red snow cones. Swift and her close friend Todrick Hall, of Kinky Boots and RuPaul’s Drag Race, sipped tea with the cast of Queer Eye.

Speak Now “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male,” Swift says. Celine coat. Dior shoes. Fashion Editor: Tonne Goodman. Photographed by Inez & Vinoodh, Vogue, September 2019

The mood was joyous and laid-back. But by the end of the day, I wasn’t sure what the vignettes would add up to. There were shoot days and cameos I wouldn’t observe. For security reasons, the song was never played aloud. (The cast wore ear buds.) Even the hero shot, in which Swift and Hall sauntered arm in arm through the dreamscape at golden hour, was filmed in near-total silence.

For weeks afterward, I tried to sleuth out a theory. I started casually. There was a “5” on the bull’s-eye, so I did a quick search to figure out what that number might mean. Immediately I was in over my head.

Swift has a thing for symbols. I knew she had been embedding secret messages in liner notes and deploying metaphors as refrains since her self-titled debut in 2006—long before her megafame made her into a symbol of pop supremacy. But I hadn’t understood how coded and byzantine her body of work has become; I hadn’t learned, as Swift’s fans have, to see hidden meanings everywhere. For instance: In the 2017 video for “Look What You Made Me Do,” a headstone in a graveyard scene reads NILS SJOBERG, the pseudonym Swift used as her writing credit on Rihanna’s hit “This Is What You Came For,” a Swedish-sounding nod to that country’s pop wizards.

After an excessive amount of ad hoc scholarship—a friend joked that I could have learned Mandarin in the time I spent trying to unpack Swift’s oeuvre—I was no closer to a theory. Pop music has become so layered and meta, but the Taylor Swift Universe stands apart. Apprehending it is like grasping quantum physics.

My first indication of what her new album, Lover, would be about came just after midnight on June 1, the beginning of Pride Month, when Swift introduced a petition in support of the federal Equality Act. This legislation would amend the Civil Rights Act to outlaw discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation. (It has passed the House, but prospects in Mitch McConnell’s Senate are unclear.) Swift also posted a letter to Senator Lamar Alexander, Republican of Tennessee, asking him to vote yes. The request, on her personal letterhead (born in 1989. LOVES CATS.), denounced President Trump for not supporting the Equality Act. “I personally reject the president’s stance,” Swift wrote.

Back in the kitchen, Swift hits play. “The first verse is about trolls and cancel culture,” she says. “The second verse is about homophobes and the people picketing outside our concerts. The third verse is about successful women being pitted against each other.”

The video is, for erudite Swifties, a rich text. I had followed enough clues to correctly guess some of the other cameos—Ellen DeGeneres, RuPaul, Katy Perry. I felt the satisfaction of a gamer who successfully levels up—achievement unlocked!The video’s final frame sends viewers to Swift’s change.org petition in support of the Equality Act, which has acquired more than 400,000 signatures—including those of Cory Booker, Elizabeth Warren, Beto O’Rourke, and Kirsten Gillibrand—or four times the number required to elicit an official response from the White House.

“MAYBE A YEAR OR TWO AGO, Todrick and I are in the car, and he asked me, What would you do if your son was gay?”

We are upstairs in Swift’s secret garden, comfortably ensconced in a human-scale basket that is sort of shaped like a cocoon. Swift has brought up an ornate charcuterie board and is happily slathering triple-cream Brie onto sea-salt crackers. “The fact that he had to ask me . . . shocked me and made me realize that I had not made my position clear enough or loud enough,” she says. “If my son was gay, he’d be gay. I don’t understand the question.”

I have pressed Swift on this topic, and her answers have been direct, not performative or scripted. I do sense that she enjoys talking to me about as much as she’d enjoy a root canal—but she’s unfailingly polite, and when we turn to music, her face will light up and she will add little melodic phrases to her speech, clearly her preferred language.

Balancing Act Later this year, Swift will appear in the film adaptation of Cats—as the flirtatious Bombalurina. Givenchy dress. Bracelets by John Hardy, David Yurman, and Hoorsenbuhs. Photographed by Inez & Vinoodh, Vogue, September 2019

“If he was thinking that, I can’t imagine what my fans in the LGBTQ community might be thinking,” she goes on. “It was kind of devastating to realize that I hadn’t been publicly clear about that.”

I understand why she was surprised; she has been sending pro-LGBTQ signals since at least 2011. Many have been subtle, but none insignificant—especially for a young country star coming out of Nashville.

In the video for her single “Mean” (from 2010’s Speak Now), we see a boy in a school locker room wearing a lavender sweater and bow tie, surrounded by football players. In “Welcome to New York,” the first track on 1989, she sings, “And you can want who you want. Boys and boys and girls and girls.” Two years later, she donated to a fund for the newly created Stonewall National Monument and presented Ruby Rose with a GLAAD Media Award. Every night of last year’s Reputation tour, she dedicated the song “Dress” to Loie Fuller, the openly gay pioneer of modern dance and theatrical lighting who captured the imagination of fin-de-siècle Paris.

Swift, who has been criticized for keeping her politics to herself, first took an explicit stance a month before the 2018 midterms. On Instagram, she endorsed Democrats for the Tennessee Legislature and called out the Republican running for Senate, Marsha Blackburn. “She believes businesses have a right to refuse service to gay couples,” Swift wrote. “She also believes they should not have the right to marry. These are not MY Tennessee values.”

Swift says the post was partly to help young fans understand that if they wanted to vote, they had to register. To tell them, as she puts it, “Hey, just so you know, you can’t just roll up.” Some 65,000 new voters registered in the first 24 hours after her post, according to Vote.org.

Trump came to Blackburn’s defense the following day. “She’s a tremendous woman,” he told reporters. “I’m sure Taylor Swift doesn’t know anything about her. Let’s say I like Taylor’s music about 25 percent less now, OK?”

In April, spurred by a raft of anti-LGBTQ bills in Tennessee, Swift donated $113,000 to the Tennessee Equality Project, which advocates for LGBTQ rights. “Horrendous,” she says of the legislation. “They don’t call it ‘Slate of Hate’ for nothing.” Swift especially liked that the Tennessee Equality Project had organized a petition of faith leaders in opposition. “I loved how smart it was to come at it from a religious perspective.”

Meanwhile, the “Calm Down” video provoked a Colorado pastor to call Swift “a sinner in desperate need of a savior” and warn that “God will cut her down.” It also revived heated debate within LGBTQ communities about the politics of allyship and corporatization of Pride. Some critics argued Swift’s pro-LGBTQ imagery and lyrics were overdue and out of the blue—a reaction the new Swift scholar in me found bewildering. Had they not been paying attention?

Nor did it strike me as out of character for Swift to leverage her power for a cause. She pulled her catalog from Spotify in 2014 over questions of artist compensation. She stared down Apple in 2015, when the company said it would not pay artists during the launch of its music service. (Apple reversed itself immediately.) As a condition of her record deal with Universal Music Group last year, the company promised that it would distribute proceeds from any sale of its Spotify shares to all of its artists. And this summer, Swift furiously called out Scott Borchetta, founder of Big Machine Label Group, for selling her master recordings to the music manager Scooter Braun. (When I ask Swift if she tried to get her masters from Big Machine, her whole body slumps with a palpable heaviness. “It was either investing in my past or my and other artists’ future, and I chose the future,” she says of the deal she struck with Universal.)

Swift’s blunt testimony during her 2017 sexual-assault case against a radio DJ—months before the #MeToo reckoning blew open—felt deeply political to me and, I imagine, many other women. Swift accused the DJ, David Mueller, of groping her under her skirt at a photo session in 2013. Her camp reported the incident to his employer, who fired him. Mueller denied the allegation, sued Swift for $3 million, and his case was thrown out. Swift countersued for a symbolic $1 and won.

Watch Taylor Swift Take Over Go Ask Anna:

In a Colorado courtroom, Swift described the incident: “He stayed latched onto my bare ass cheek” as photos were being snapped. Asked why photos of the front of her skirt didn’t show this, she said, “Because my ass is located at the back of my body.” Asked if she felt bad about the DJ’s losing his job, she said, “I’m not going to let you or your client make me feel in any way that this is my fault. Here we are years later, and I’m being blamed for the unfortunate events of his life that are the product of his decisions—not mine.”

When Time included Swift on the cover of its “Silence Breakers” issue that year, the magazine asked how she felt during the testimony. “I was angry,” she said. “In that moment, I decided to forgo any courtroom formalities and just answer the questions the way it happened...I’m told it was the most amount of times the word ass has ever been said in Colorado Federal Court.”

Mueller has since paid Swift the dollar—with a Sacagawea coin. “He was trolling me, implying that I was self-righteous and hell-bent on angry, vengeful feminism. That’s what I’m inferring from him giving me a Sacagawea coin,” Swift says. “Hey, maybe he was trying to do it in honor of a powerful Native American woman. I didn’t ask.” Where is the coin now? “My lawyer has it.”

I ask her, why get louder about LGBTQ rights now? “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male,” she says. “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of. It’s hard to know how to do that without being so fearful of making a mistake that you just freeze. Because my mistakes are very loud. When I make a mistake, it echoes through the canyons of the world. It’s clickbait, and it’s a part of my life story, and it’s a part of my career arc.”

I’d argue that no heterosexual woman can listen to “You Need to Calm Down” and hear only a gay anthem. “Calm down” is what controlling men tell women who are angry, contrary, or “hysterical,” or, let’s say, fearing for their physical safety. It is what Panic! at the Disco singer Brendon Urie says to Swift in the beginning of the “ME!” music video, prompting her to scream, “Je suis calme!”

I cannot believe it is a coincidence that Swift, a numbers geek with an affinity for dates, dropped the single—whose slow, incessant bass is likely to be bumping in stadiums across the world in 2020 if she goes on tour—on June 14, a certain president’s birthday.

IT'S ENLIGHTENING to read 13 years of Taylor Swift coverage—all the big reviews, all the big profiles—in one sitting. You notice things.

How quickly Swift went from a “prodigy” (The New Yorker) and a “songwriting savant” (Rolling Stone) to a tabloid fixture, for instance. Or how suspect her ambition is made to seem once she acquires real power.

Other plot points simply look different in the light of #MeToo. It is hard to imagine that Swift’s songs about her exes would be reviewed as sensationally today. I wonder if, in 2019, any man would dare grab the microphone out of a young woman’s hands at an awards show. I stared into space for a good long while when I was reminded that Pitchfork did not review Taylor Swift’s 1989 but did review Ryan Adams’s cover album of Taylor Swift’s 1989.

I ask Swift if she had always been aware of sexism. “I think about this a lot,” she says. “When I was a teenager, I would hear people talk about sexism in the music industry, and I’d be like, I don’t see it. I don’t understand. Then I realized that was because I was a kid. Men in the industry saw me as a kid. I was a lanky, scrawny, overexcited young girl who reminded them more of their little niece or their daughter than a successful woman in business or a colleague. The second I became a woman, in people’s perception, was when I started seeing it.

“It’s fine to infantilize a girl’s success and say, How cute that she’s having some hit songs,” she goes on. “How cute that she’s writing songs. But the second it becomes formidable? As soon as I started playing stadiums—when I started to look like a woman—that wasn’t as cool anymore. It was when I started to have songs from Red come out and cross over, like ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ and ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.’ ”

Those songs are also more assertive than the ones that came before, I say. “Yeah, the angle was different when I started saying, I knew you were trouble when you walked in. Basically, you emotionally manipulated me and I didn’t love it. That wasn’t fun for me.”

I have to wonder if having her songwriting overlooked as her hits were picked apart and scrutinized wasn’t the biggest bummer of all. Swift: “I wanted to say to people, You realize writing songs is an art and a craft and not, like, an easy thing to do? Or to do well? People would act like it was a weapon I was using. Like a cheap dirty trick. Be careful, bro, she’ll write a song about you. Don’t stand near her. First of all, that’s not how it works. Second of all, find me a time when they say that about a male artist: Be careful, girl, he’ll use his experience with you to get—God forbid—inspiration to make art.”

Without question the tenor of the Taylor Swift Narrative changed most dramatically in July 2016, when Kim Kardashian West called her a “snake” on Twitter, and released video clips of Swift and Kanye West discussing the lyrics to his song “Famous.” (No need to rehash the details here. Suffice it to say that Swift’s version of events hasn’t changed: She knew about some of the lyrics but not others; specifically, the words that bitch.) The posts sparked several hashtags, including #TaylorSwiftIsASnake and #TaylorSwiftIsCanceled, which quickly escalated into a months-long campaign to “cancel” Swift.

To this day Swift doesn’t think people grasp the repercussions of that term. “A mass public shaming, with millions of people saying you are quote-unquote canceled, is a very isolating experience,” she says. “I don’t think there are that many people who can actually understand what it’s like to have millions of people hate you very loudly.” She adds: “When you say someone is canceled, it’s not a TV show. It’s a human being. You’re sending mass amounts of messaging to this person to either shut up, disappear, or it could also be perceived as, Kill yourself.”

An overhaul was in order. “I realized I needed to restructure my life because it felt completely out of control,” Swift says. “I knew immediately I needed to make music about it because I knew it was the only way I could survive it. It was the only way I could preserve my mental health and also tell the story of what it’s like to go through something so humiliating.”

State of Grace Dior bodysuit and skirt. Photographed by Inez & Vinoodh, Vogue, September 2019

I get a sense of the whiplash Swift experienced when I notice that, a few months into this ordeal, while she was writing the songs that would become her album Reputation—and fighting off Mueller’s lawsuit—a portion of the media and internet began demanding to know why she hadn’t un-canceled herself long enough to take a position in the presidential election.

On that: “Unfortunately in the 2016 election you had a political opponent who was weaponizing the idea of the celebrity endorsement. He was going around saying, I’m a man of the people. I’m for you. I care about you. I just knew I wasn’t going to help. Also, you know, the summer before that election, all people were saying was She’s calculated. She’s manipulative. She’s not what she seems. She’s a snake. She’s a liar. These are the same exact insults people were hurling at Hillary. Would I be an endorsement or would I be a liability? Look, snakes of a feather flock together. Look, the two lying women. The two nasty women. Literally millions of people were telling me to disappear. So I disappeared. In many senses.”

Swift previewed Reputation in August 2017 with “Look What You Made Me Do.” The single came with a lyric video whose central image was an ouroboros—a snake swallowing its own tail, an ancient symbol for continual renewal. Swift wiped her social-media feeds clean and began posting video snippets of a slithering snake. The song was pure bombast and high camp. (Lest there be any doubt, the chorus was an interpolation of a ’90s camp classic, Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy.”) Nonetheless, most critics read it as a grenade lobbed in the general direction of Calabasas.

One longtime Nashville critic, Brian Mansfield, had a more plausible take: She was writing sarcastically as the “Taylor Swift” portrayed in the media in a bid for privacy. “Yeah, this is the character you created for me, let me just hide behind it,” she says now of the persona she created. “I always used this metaphor when I was younger. I’d say that with every reinvention, I never wanted to tear down my house. ’Cause I built this house. This house being, metaphorically, my body of work, my songwriting, my music, my catalog, my library. I just wanted to redecorate. I think a lot of people, with Reputation, would have perceived that I had torn down the house. Actually, I just built a bunker around it.”

IN MARCH, the snakes started to morph into butterflies, the vampire color palette into Easter pastels. When a superbloom of wildflowers lured a mesmerizing deluge of Painted Lady butterflies to Los Angeles, Swift marked it with an Instagram post. She attended the iHeartRadio Music Awards that night in a sequin romper and stilettos with shimmery wings attached.

Swift announced the single “ME!” a month later, with a large butterfly mural in Nashville. In the music video for the (conspicuously) bubblegum song, a hissing pastel-pink snake explodes into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. One flutters by the window of an apartment, where Swift is arguing in French with Urie. A record player is playing in the background. “It’s an old-timey, 1940s-sounding instrumental version of ‘You Need to Calm Down,’ ’’ Swift says. Later, in the “Calm Down” video, Swift wears a (fake) back tattoo of a snake swarmed by butterflies.

We are only two songs in, people. Lover, to be released on August 23, will have a total of 18 songs. “I was compiling ideas for a very long time,” Swift says. “When I started writing, I couldn’t stop.” (We can assume the British actor Joe Alwyn, with whom Swift has been in a relationship for nearly three years, provided some of the inspiration.)

Swift thinks Lover might be her favorite album yet. “There are so many ways in which this album feels like a new beginning,” she says. “This album is really a love letter to love, in all of its maddening, passionate, exciting, enchanting, horrific, tragic, wonderful glory.”

In Focus Swift’s new 18-track album, Lover, will be released August 23. Hermès shirt. Chanel pants. Maximum Henry belt. Photographed by Inez & Vinoodh, Vogue, September 2019

I have to ask Swift, given how genuinely at peace she seems, if part of her isn’t thankful, if not for the Great Cancellation of 2016, then for the person she now is—knowing who her friends are, knowing what’s what. “When you’re going through loss or embarrassment or shame, it’s a grieving process with so many micro emotions in a day. One of the reasons why I didn’t do interviews for Reputationwas that I couldn’t figure out how I felt hour to hour. Sometimes I felt like: All these things taught me something that I never could have learned in a way that didn’t hurt as much. Five minutes later, I’d feel like: That was horrible. Why did that have to happen? What am I supposed to take from this other than mass amounts of humiliation? And then five minutes later I’d think: I think I might be happier than I’ve ever been.”

She goes on: “It’s so strange trying to be self-aware when you’ve been cast as this always smiling, always happy ‘America’s sweetheart’ thing, and then having that taken away and realizing that it’s actually a great thing that it was taken away, because that’s extremely limiting.” Swift leans back in the cocoon and smiles: “We’re not going to go straight to gratitude with it. Ever. But we’re going to find positive aspects to it. We’re never going to write a thank-you note.”

Though people will take the Perry-Swift burger-and-fries embrace in the “You Need to Calm Down” video as a press release that the two have mended fences, Swift says it’s actually a comment on how the media pits female pop stars against one another. After Perry sent Swift an (actual) olive branch last year, Swift asked her to be in the video: “She wrote back, This makes me so emotional. I’m so up for this. I want us to be that example. But let’s spend some time together. Because I want it to be real. So she came over and we talked for hours.

“We decided the metaphor for what happens in the media,” Swift explains, “is they pick two people and it’s like they’re pouring gasoline all over the floor. All that needs to happen is one false move, one false word, one misunderstanding, and a match is lit and dropped. That’s what happened with us. It was: Who’s better? Katy or Taylor? Katy or Taylor? Katy or Taylor? Katy or Taylor? The tension is so high that it becomes impossible for you to not think that the other person has something against you."

Meanwhile, the protesters in the video reference a real-life religious group that pickets outside Swift’s concerts, not the white working class in general, as some have assumed. “So many artists have them at their shows, and it’s such a confounding, confusing, infuriating thing to have outside of joyful concerts,” she tells me. “Obviously I don’t want to mention the actual entity, because they would get excited about that. Giving them press is not on my list of priorities.”

At one point, Swift asks if I would like to hear two other songs off the new album. (Duh.) First she plays “Lover,” the title track, coproduced by Jack Antonoff. “This has one of my favorite bridges,” she says. “I love a bridge, and I was really able to go to Bridge City.” It’s a romantic, haunting, waltzy, singer-songwritery nugget: classic Swift. “My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue,” she sings. “All’s well that ends well to end up with you.”

Next, Swift cues up a track that “plays with the idea of perception.” She has often wondered how she would be written and spoken about if she were a man, “so I wrote a song called ‘The Man.’ ” It’s a thought experiment of sorts: “If I had made all the same choices, all the same mistakes, all the same accomplishments, how would it read?” Seconds later, Swift’s earpods are pumping a synth-pop earworm into my head: “I’d be a fearless leader. I’d be an alpha type. When everyone believes ya: What’s that like?”

Swift wrote the first two singles with Joel Little, best known as one of Lorde’s go-to producers. (“From a pop-songwriting point of view, she’s the pinnacle,” Little says of Swift.) The album is likely to include more marquee names. A portrait of the Dixie Chicks in the background of the “ME!” video almost certainly portends a collaboration. If fans are correctly reading a button affixed to her denim jacket in a recent magazine cover, we can expect one with Drake, too.

Eyes On Her Designer Stella McCartney on her friendship with Swift: “In London we’ll go on walks and talk about everything—life and love.” Stella McCartney coat. In this story: hair, Christiaan; makeup, Fulvia Farolfi. Photographed by Inez & Vinoodh, Vogue, September 2019

She recently announced a fashion collection with Stella McCartney to coincide with Lover. “We met at one of her shows,” says McCartney, “and then we had a girls’ night and kind of jumped straight in. In London we’ll go on walks and talk about everything—life and love.” (Swift has no further fashion ambitions at the moment. “I really love my job right now,” she tells me. “My focus is on music.”) Oh, and that “5” on the bullseye? Track five is called “The Archer.”

Yet something tells me the most illuminating clue for reading both Lover and Reputation may be Loie Fuller, the dancer to whom Swift paid homage on tour. As Swift noted on a Jumbotron, Fuller “fought for artists to own their work.” Fuller also used swirling fabric and colored lights to metamorphose onstage, playing a “hide-and-seek illusionist game” with her audience, as one writer has put it. She became a muse to the Symbolists in Paris, where Jean Cocteau wrote that she created “the phantom of an era.” The effect, said the poet Stéphane Mallarmé, was a “dizziness of soul made visible by an artifice.” Fuller’s most famous piece was “Serpentine Dance.” Another was “Butterfly Dance.”

SWIFT HAS HAD almost no downtime since late 2017, but what little she does have is divided among New York, Nashville, Los Angeles, and Rhode Island, where she keeps homes—plus London. In an essay earlier this year, she revealed that her mother, Andrea Swift, is fighting cancer for a second time. “There was a relapse that happened,” Swift says, declining to go into detail. “It’s something that my family is going through.”

Later this year, she will star in a film adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Catsas Bombalurina, the flirtatious red cat. “They made us the size of cats by making the furniture bigger,” she says. “You’d be standing there and you could barely reach the seat of a chair. It was phenomenal. It made you feel like a little kid.”

But first, she will spend much of the summer holding “secret sessions”—a tradition wherein Swift invites hundreds of fans to her various homes to preview her new music. “They’ve never given me a reason to stop doing it,” she says. “Not a single one.”

Speaking of: Inquiring fans will want to know if Swift dropped any more clues about how to decode Lover during this interview. For you I reviewed the audio again, and there were a few things that made my newly acquired Swifty sense tingle.

At one point she compared superstardom in the digital age to life in a dollhouse, one where voyeurs “can ‘ship’ you with who they want to ‘ship’ you with, and they can ‘favorite’ friends that you have, and they can know where you are all the time.” The metaphor was precise and vivid and, well, a little too intricately rendered to be off the cuff. (Also, the “ME!” lyric: “Baby doll, when it comes to a lover. I promise that you’ll never find another like me.”)

Then there was the balloon—a giant gold balloon in the shape of a numeral seven that happened to float by while we were on her roof, on this, the occasion of her seventh album. “Is it an L’?” I say. “No, because look, the string is hanging from the bottom,” she says.

It might seem an obvious symbolic gesture, deployed for this interview, except for how impossible that seems. Swift let me control the timing of nearly everything. Moreover, the gold seven wasn’t floating up from the sidewalk below. It was already high in the sky, drifting slowly toward us from down the street. She would have had to control the wind, or at least to have studied it. Would Taylor Swift really go to such elaborate lengths for her fans? This much I know: Yes, she would.

Taylor Swift Talks Googling Herself, Which Celebrity's Closet She'd Raid, and the Bravest Thing She's Ever Done:

Vogue

#taylor swift #vogue #september #2019 #cover girl

[ixeliema]

Okay this is going to be pretty personal and potentially triggering so I'm leaving that here at the top. I'm going to be discussing depression and self harm here and I will tag accordingly. I will not be specific or speak of it in detail because a lot of people read posts like these at their lowest points and it does nothing but hurt already very troubled people to read.

These bubbles are covering an injury I inflicted upon myself at work today after my manager called me in to a meeting with him to speak about the amount of missed days of work I'd taken in the last two-three weeks.

How it happened doesn't matter. The only context you need for it is that I missed four days due to a contagious illness and one day due to a stomach bug that had me physically unable to leave the bathroom. I work long hours and in my store's home department. I work hard and never do things 80% or lower at work and it's exhausting at times.

Well...yesterday I had a panic attack that lasted for almost four hours and knew I couldn't work in this state. I had been curling into a ball, screaming, sobbing, (tw) pulling my hair.

I called in and my manager told me we'd need to talk about my missed days. Fine. I accept that. Today I dreaded the inevitable call back and when it happened he told me that two of my customers had filed complaints on me within two days last week.

One I will admit is justified. He was talking about gun issues and complaining that retail stores should sell guns, meanwhile I am from a college that was shot up and I am fucking terrified of guns. I don't mind not selling them. Especially in light of El Paso recently.

The other was a lady who noticed I was sweaty and tired after having to manually enter her discounts for about 25 apparel items because her digital coupon wasn't ringing right and it was a system issue. I had an injury between my fingers at the time and all the typing to fix the prices was pulling apart my scab and I had begun to bleed through my bandage. At the end of the transaction, she made eye contact with me and asked "I'm sorry...are you IRRITATED with me?" I don't remember exactly what I said but I said something like "no ma'am I'm bleeding". Well apparently 'no' means I'm still a bitch who needed reported to her manager.

The first...fine. I was out of line there. I shouldn't have let him goad me on. But the second pisses me off. Not happy because three strikes on my record is cause for termination due to disregard for customer satisfaction. This sucks a lot. But then my manager talks about my missed days and why they happened. I mentioned my sicknesses and cited a literal rule (if you are contagious or having issues with bodily fluids don't come in" at him. Yesterday I told him my situation. I was unable to breathe. See. Anything. I cited my mental illness and told him it was very bad yesterday. He kind of brushed me off. (Which in itself fucking infuriates me bc mental health isn't a goddamn joke!)

Then he told me to evaluate myself and whether or not this job is right for me. I also have a physical injury and I require a brace. Even with it sometimes I have sore days and pain that I can't control due to walking about four to five miles a day at work. It sucks but with the brace I can survive. I need this job to live after all, and I don't mind the coworkers or the job itself. It just sucks when I'm working 48 hours in a row with a lot of mental and physical barriers to my success.

He told me to my face that if I didn't feel I was capable of doing the job to quit. And then he told me he needed someone "more reliable" for the position because of the business' needs.

I kind of broke at that point. And I blacked out into a relapse of my self harm after the meeting was through. I pride myself on two things: my sense of humor even in dark times (comes with the territory of mental illness), and the fact that I strive to be reliable. My manager telling me to my face that I wasn't reliable broke me.

See I would be more understanding if he hadn't just told me that five of my six missed days were perfectly acceptable. But after he learned of the last one amd why he kind of shifted gears. And I hated it very much.

He's worked for x corporation nearly 20 years and no one will question his authority. He works hard and is pretty good with his workers. Honestly he's a little sexist and clearly doesn't think mental illnesses are a big deal, but he's good at what he does. So hearing an authority figure (the type of person I've learned to fear because I'm never good enough) tells me I'm not one of the qualities I fucking FIGHT for...I broke.

But this story isn't why I wanted to post it. Yeah I could rant about the rude manager and the customers and that dumb "customer is always right" mentality (which they could prove wrong if they just looked up the security footage for the rude lady!)

No I'm here because when I got home from working 2-11...bordering tears and panic all day and sweatier than anyone living in Arizona right now...I hopped in the bath for a soak and to give myself time to heal from the long arduous day.

My mind has been full of intrusive thoughts about my worth and how I broke my streak of being clean from self harm and how that makes me a coward. That kind of joyous stuff.

I sat up to get my phone to text my friend and saw that my knee (where my injury is) was covered in bubbles.

I don't know why...but that means a lot to me right now. Like...I'm taking care of myself after probably the worst day I've had since my dad died. I'm taking time to heal. I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my soul after a long and painful day. And it felt like for a moment, the universe understood that looking at my wound hurt me as much as the wound itself hurt. It wanted me to not dwell on it.

Obviously this isn't a magic "I'm no longer depressed" moment but for me, seeing the bubbles...a sign (at least to me) of trying to take care of myself masking the pain of my depression and anxiety.

Today has been a very tough day for me with a lot of manic episodes and a lot of depressive ones, and though I can wear the face that I'm okay...it cracked a lot today and I let my ugly side seep out. And seeing the bubbles covering my wound I deadass cried about it, y'all.

This tells me that even on your worst days, taking care of yourself and trying to find time to recover can help you to heal. And I wanted to post this because I think this story might help someone. Even just one person. Maybe even just myself someday when out of the blue I check my (very small) tag for original posts.

The TLDR of this is that this occurence kind of showed me that taking care of yourself...even in tiny, seemingly insignificant ways, can really help you to not dwell on pain as much.

And before someone hijacks this and says this won't apply to everyone...I know. But I hope someone sees this image of bubbles on a goddamn kneecap and thinks to themselves that they ought to take better care of themselves after a bad day. After a relapse. After feeling so defeated you considered suicide. Consider healing. Consider trying to help yourself, even just in one small way.

That's about all I have to say other than "fuck I work the next three days and I'm not stoked to go fake a smile as a cashier for 27 more hours even if I'm being paid"

#no I'm not going to fall into that mindset #suicide tw #self harm tw #depression tw #tw depression #tw self harm #tw suicide #you will be okay #i believe in you #depression #anxiety #adhd #bpd #bipolar #bipolar personality disorder #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder #attention defecit #please do not read this as bragging #do not read this as a cry for attention #do not read this as me trying to condone people glorifying mental illness on this site #I'm posting this because I want someone to come across this in a tag and think #self harm #gentle reminder you are beautiful #don't lose hope #don't hurt yourself #ixey speaks #ixey posts #please take care of yourself #take care #stay safe

[houseki-no-suffering]

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Human AU, 1960s AU  Characters: Cinnabar/Phosphophyllite, Diamond, Euclase, Bort, Alexandrite, Yellow Diamond Summary: When 19 yo Cinnabar thought of giving Phos their heart, 16 yo Phos left them to move to another town with Antarcticite. 5 years and a lifetime later, Phos makes a sudden comeback into Cinnabar’s life, helping both of them realize that running away from your problems is grossly overrated.

A/N: nnngh I can’t believe I’m finally posting this, a huge thank you to @lapishead for betareading this and to @enfphos for their patience and adorable support. Enjoy!

Just a little more.

Cinnabar kept filling all the spaces in their mind with those words, trying not to leave any room for complaints. They were clinging to the hope that, if they persisted in telling themselves that they were almost done, the words would magically start sounding true rather than repetitive. It was a cognitive thing, Alex had told Cinnabar once.

Almost done.

Cinnabar’s mind must be extraordinarily stubborn, but at least the mantra had kept them from overthinking. As a form of cognitive gratitude, they repeated those words a final time as they picked up the last cardboard box from Euclase’s car. Then they reverted back to cursing their own physical form as they panted and puffed their way up the entrance steps and then, finally, collapsed on the bare mattress as soon as they stepped foot inside their new home.

The box followed them happily, bouncing on the bed along with Cinnabar and raining its contents on top of them and all around the room. Cinnabar paid it no mind. Objects were supposed to go missing in any respectable move.

Basking in the validation that they got from the newfound chaos, Cinnabar shifted their attention to the ceiling above them. It took them a couple of seconds to decide that it was judging the incompetent way Cinnabar had carried their boxes and that it would keep judging as Cinnabar unpacked. One more reason not to start now. Even the wall knew that Cinnabar was just the pale imitation of the previous tenant, but Cinnabar had resigned to mediocrity a long time ago.

It was a nice ceiling, they supposed, white, freshly painted, and with the distinctive sand-looking roughness that characterized most things in this town. Then Cinnabar’s eyes narrowed and spotted one single black dot that was singlehandedly ruining the pristine whiteness. Bort would totally blame them for it.

Awesome.

“May I? Oh, you are done already,” Diamond’s head peeked out from behind the bedroom’s door. Their smile betrayed just the faintest disappointment for not being able to linger any further.

“Mh-h,” Cinnabar answered, still contemplating Bort’s rage. Then they remembered to let out a small, whispered “thanks,” in exchange for Diamond’s help.

“Would you like a hand unpacking? You just need ask if you do. We’d all be happy to come over, I can call Benito and Ame, we’ll be done super fast.”

“I’ll do it myself,” Cinnabar mumbled, terrified by the perspective.

“Of course,” Diamond offered them another eloquent smile. No one had been happy when Cinnabar mentioned moving out of the school dormitory. Diamond especially had not been happy when they learned that the only reason was that Bort would be moving out as well, leaving their small apartment empty for Cinnabar to occupy.

Diamond’s fingers traveled along the doorframe with delicate interest, as if following a fond memory or searching for one.

“Did my little sibling call, yet?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Dia’s eyes got tangled in a mysterious web of memories that lay just below the surface of the wood. When they shifted their gaze to the ceiling, Cinnabar expected them to point out the insignificant black spot too. “It’s been a while. They’re probably very busy with the new school and everything. I’m sure they will call. No need to be worried, they’ll be fine. They’re always fine. Bort is such a responsible cutie.”

A weak “of course,” was all the sympathy Cinnabar managed to offer. Even when threading carefully among sibling rivalries and unresolved conflicts, the truth was that they would miss Bort too.

Without Bort, Cinnabar would probably lack both a place to call their own and a sense of independence. They were afraid that their newly discovered sense of self would crumble like a sand castle in a couple of days without Bort’s cement-strong pragmatism to keep it in place. Therefore, Cinnabar made a mental note to find some courage to call their friend before the castle collapsed. Bort had already done them the favor of providing the apartment with a phone, so Cinnabar could return the courtesy by sparing Dia the awkwardness of calling their sibling first. One of these days. In the near future. Eventually.

“Yeah,” Dia nodded again, more to convince themselves than Cinnabar, equally hurt and relieved by knowing their little sibling was hundreds of kilometers away. “And what about my Shinsha, will you be okay, dear? Don’t you think you’ll feel alone all by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m here, you can still… call, or drop by, I guess… it’s okay.”

“Of course, I’d love to. And I really need to bring you some flowers, this place needs waaay more colors, wouldn’t that be cute?.”

“Okay.”

Diamond giggled at Cinnabar’s lack of interest.

“You can tell me I’m being silly. Stupid, little, apprehensive Dia. I’ll shut up, no more talking, no no,” they admonished themselves. “So, I guess I should be going now…”

Cinnabar didn’t answer. Diamond picked up their coat from the chair next to Bort’s bed, their eyes lingering on the cardboard boxes and clothes lazily scattered around the room.

“I’m gonna miss you a little, I know it’s still the same,” they hurried to add, “but just a little bit, a tiny little bit,” they chuckled, “alright. I’ll see you around, bye-bye, Shinsha.”

“Bye.”

Diamond gave one last look at the room, their eyes finally noticing the tiny dot that had ruined the flawlessness of the ceiling all by itself. They knew, too, that Bort would hate it.

Diamond smiled.

Then they waved goodbye to their friend again and walked out of Cinnabar’s apartment.

—

Diamond was right when they said it would still be the same. That was exactly one of the reasons Cinnabar was terrified it would all come crumbling down.

Bort’s apartment was little more than one block away from the dormitories of the institute, which meant that Cinnabar would still stumble upon friends and family anytime they went to the library, ventured outside to buy groceries, or simply decided to take a walk. They would still meet familiar faces every day at work.

Bort’s apartment was the farthest Cinnabar could presently dare to get from everything, and yet it was barely any distance at all. It should be pathetic that it had still taken Cinnabar five whole years to get to this point. And that they were still tempted to throw it all away the second Bort’s train disappeared behind the horizon. Bort was wrong in believing that Cinnabar’s confidence needed more careful patching up. It needed to be rebuilt from scratch altogether.

Cinnabar’s best days were the ones when they would woke up and feeling bitter about it. When the desire for a stable sense of self was something they cared enough to miss. But most days they were just hungry for isolation. The company of old, useless memories still more appreciated than that of the present.

The pebbles of the road crunched under Cinnabar’s feet as they walked to the library. It was hot, irritatingly hot for a late summer day. Cinnabar should have tied their hair up and slowed their pace. Each extra movement was an admission of weakness against the supremacy of the heat.

For as much as Cinnabar hated cleaning, the fact that Bort had trusted them with an apartment to care for was nothing short of a miracle. And it said something about Bort’s excessive optimism toward Cinnabar. Cinnabar was not sure what was most surreal between leaving the dorms and have someone blindly believe in them.

As they pushed open the library’s front door, Cinnabar made a reluctant mental note to find the strength to unpack at least one or two boxes before going to bed. Looking at those boxes had a mysterious, therapeutic effect on Cinnabar’s mind, an illusion of productivity, a sign that something new and exciting was still happening. As long as at least one cardboard box was still around, the apartment would still be getting used to Cinnabar’s presence. And it would be easier to leave.

“G’ morning,” they signaled their presence, closing the door behind them.

“Hello, hello! My, did you time me? I was just about to leave,” Alexandrite’s energetic voice greeted them in the midst of their hurried chaos, “Papers are on my desk, books must be re-shelved, dust is piling up everywhere, this place looks more and more like a tomb with each passing day, but isn’t that fascinating? Gosh, just like a good old expedition down south, we should all visit Greece one of these days. Very informative. Very hot, as well. Always bring a hat. But do leave the dust, atmosphere is always important, people who complain can do so in my face.”

“Alright.”

Picking up equally fundamental objects from completely different parts of the room, Alexandrite’s storm quickly approached Cinnabar, briskly retrieving the last missing items— a summer coat and a hat—  from the hanger behind Cinnabar’s shoulders. Cinnabar drew back carefully, on the verge of losing balance.

“Late, late, late,” Alex chanted as they hurriedly put on the coat, despite the temperature outside, fighting to keep in balance the absurd amount of papers and notes that they were holding to their chest. Cinnabar reached forward in a timid attempt to help, which Alex, in their hurry, failed to notice.

“Goddammit, I need more hands.”

“Need a bag or something?”

“Nature gave me arms so I could use them.”

Cinnabar’s mouth twitched, any further remark concerning Alex’s clothing would be disregarded in the name of eccentricity— or of pleasing a wide fanbase of young, curious students. Even retired academicians had expectations to live up to.

“Laaate,” Alex chanted one last time when they finally managed to put an arm in the correct hole of the coat, the papers still precariously squished against their chest. “Alright, I’m off. Take care of the place for me.”

“Don’t kill any kid.”

“Ah! I’ll try,” and then Lexi stormed out of the door, a couple of sheets of paper following after them, as late as their author.

Cinnabar mused for a second whether to catch them while Alex was still in earshot. Instead, they observed the papers’ silent fall until gravity reduced them to unresponsive leaflets. Then Cinnabar picked them up and walked back inside to put them on the front desk. Golden puffs of dust welcomed them on the wood.

Just like an old tomb.

—

Cinnabar didn’t make a habit to eavesdrop on other people in the library. No matter how loud the words, arguments and gossip just flowed away from their mind in a stream of lazy disinterest. It was one of the reasons Jade had stopped asking them to collaborate in the newspaper. Library news was lost to Cinnabar’s attention.

And yet, today’s buzz had managed to dig itself a small, tiny hole in Cinnabar’s mind. Scattered words and sentences made them uneasy, bits and pieces connecting to old images that Cinnabar had repressed years ago and only dug up when they felt like self-loathing.

They shouldn’t care, they knew better than to care again, but memories of a coach lazily departing from town crawled their way to the surface of Cinnabar’s consciousness.

It was so easy to remember the salt from the sea itching Cinnabar’s nostrils, the way the fresh breeze of that morning had dried cold tears on their cheeks. Several people had gathered in the piazza to watch that coach leave, waving, lingering, wishing they could leave too.

Cinnabar had climbed up to the last terrace of the lighthouse, breathing in the dawn and despising themselves for looking down at the piazza, too, still incredulous at what was happening. A part of them had even tried to spot a glimpse of teal hair through a windowpane, but the coach was too far gone already. The vehicle disappeared in the fog without noticing Cinnabar’s presence.

They still thought about that day, from time to time. It still felt like a surreal, bad dream. They wondered what had happened to a specific couple of passengers, and they still commiserated themselves for not being able to wish misfortunes on other people.

Cinnabar shouldn’t care anymore, but those voices had dusted off old aches and now it was hard to bury them again.

In an attempt to distract themselves, Cinnabar focused on the ridiculous amount of papers that they were carrying, because of course Alex had fallen behind on grading tests. And, since the thought of more work was not enough, they resolved to stop by Euclase’s shop as well, hoping that the familiar anxiety from social interactions would drown any other preoccupation.

Euclase’s grocery store was almost exactly halfway between Cinnabar’s new house and the school. It sat at the intersection of the town’s main road and the long, meandering street that led to the sea. The little shop was just one story tall but occupied every square centimeters with conscious pride, aware of its position at the very heart of the city.

The silvery chant of a wind chimes welcomed Cinnabar as they pushed open the door. It was almost closing time and the setting sun bathed the ambience in the sepia immobility of a photograph. Even Euclase was lost in the peachy hues that clothed the evening. Seated in contemplation behind the cash desk, they gave the impression of dozing off in a coat of warm sunlight.

At the sound of the wind chimes, Euclase turned their head immediately, waking up from their dream. Cinnabar offered a small nod as greeting.

“Oh, hi, Shinsha. I wasn’t expecting you. Can I do something for you?”

Cinnabar’s heart took a dull leap at the mention of not being expected. They breathed in a small gulp of evening.

“I’m just… stopping by, I guess…”

“Of course, of course. How are you, dear? Are you alright?”

Cinnabar nodded, but only when Euclase’s eyes widened in surprise did they realize that Euc’s question had not been mere politeness.

“That’s good, I’m glad, really.”

With quick precision, Cinnabar’s mind enumerated and evaluated all the things that could be wrong with Cinnabar or that Euclase might be concerned about. Their heart made another leap as anxiety washed over them.

“What’s up?”

“So you don’t know yet…” Euclase murmured and Cinnabar’s pulse quickened as they thought about the buzz that they had heard in the library that morning.

They wanted to walk to the cash desk, slam their hands on the counter and ask for explanations, or maybe storm out of the shop like the mature person they were, but their feet were cowardly glued to the ground, surrounded by warm, sticky sunlight.

“Is it about the apartment?” they asked, but they already knew the answer. Euclase shook their head no.

“Now, what I’m about to say might upset you,” they began, walking toward Cinnabar with a sweet, motherly smile plastered on their face, “but please, I’m sure we can find a way to deal with this. I know it’s going to be alright-“

Halfway through Euclase’s speech, Cinnabar had spaced out. If this were Sensei instead of Euclase, he would have patted Cinnabar’s head, offering a gentle smile. But Euclase was not Sensei, no matter how much they tried to walk in his steps. They just stood in front of Cinnabar, smiling, mindful not to hug or touch them, ready to deliver the blow with artfully coated sincerity.

“-there must be a reason why Phos is back in town and the least we can do is offer our support and our love. I’m sure we can all get along again as a family-“

Cinnabar’s throat was heavy, as if something was stuck inside of it and refused to be swallowed. As if someone had sat on Cinnabar’s ribcage, pushing all the air out of their lungs, and Cinnabar wanted to cry, had to cry, but couldn’t.

“So they come back, now…” they murmured.

“Yes,” Euclase seconded them, happy to see a reaction from Cinnabar’s side, “Phos has come back home.”

way to end chap 1 on a cliffhanger, but thank you so much for reading to this point! I’ll be super happy if you give this AU a chance: I poured my soul into this story and I love how it came out.  I’m shooting for weekly chaps, but we’ll see how that goes. In the meantime let me know what you think of this: any kind of feedback is great!

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #cinnaphos #cinnabar #phosphophyllite #1960s au #fic tag

[ultimate-prosecrastinator]

Russian Takoyaki Reprise!

Day 5: Favorite Anthology Chapter//Favorite Funny Moment  (This is a day VERY late because as I was going to post it my USB drive decided to eat and destroy my file. I managed to salvage most of it today thankfully though, so enjoy!)

Akira just won’t let Akechi live down the takoyaki incident.

He’s done it so often that by now Akechi’s come to expect it. He doesn’t even look up from his book as the other boy sets down a plate of curry before him and places a bottle of chili oil beside it, smirking. “Because I know you like it hot.”

Akechi refuses to dignify that with a response immediately, settling for just taking a bite. It’s good; the various spices well-balanced. He’s getting better. At least he has the decency not to ruin a perfectly good dish with his ridiculousness. Ignoring Akira’s expectant stare, Akechi takes his time tasting the dish. It pairs quite nicely with his coffee, almost irritatingly so. It takes him a not insignificant amount of self-control to avoid inhaling the dish. That’ll teach him to skip lunch.

He clears his plate shortly after, to Akira’s pleasure, and pushes the plate to the side to bring his mug close. “I have a perfectly reasonable tolerance for spice, I’ll have you know.”

Akira nods his agreement, but his raised eyebrow and smirk say otherwise. “I’m sure.”

Akechi can’t help but defend himself. “That…monstrosity was anything but tolerable. You wouldn’t be so smug if you’d tried it.”

“Is that so?” Akira grins, “But then I wouldn’t have had the absolutely brilliant opportunity of witnessing your expressions that day.”

The detective stares at him, unimpressed, “And what a waste that would’ve been, I’m sure.”

The other boy nods emphatically, “It would’ve.”

They chat for a while longer about nothing, then Akechi takes his leave. “Thank you, as always, for both the coffee and the conversation. I hope you’ll indulge me again soon.”

He’s nearly forgotten the exchange by the time he comes back a week later. And what a hectic week it’s been, juggling cases and finals among other things. He finds himself stretched so thin that he’s actually somewhat envious of Sae-san, who can at least focus all her attention solely on work. However, no sooner has he opened the door, the bell still jingling, than he finds Akira placing a covered dish on the counter, looking at Akechi with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The young detective sits down before him, placing his briefcase on the counter. “Well now, that’s a dangerous look. What’s this?”

Akira uncovers the dish with a flourish, and Akechi stares down at it, frowning. “You have got to be kidding.”

“Not at all.”

“How did you even learn to make this?”

“I got the girl who runs the school newspaper to track down the recipe the class used. It took a few tries, but you can see I’ve gotten the hang of it. The infamous Russian Takoyaki, done properly this time.”

Akechi’s frown deepens. They certainly look like takoyaki, deceptive in their plainness. “But then which is the spicy one? They all look the same. I distinctly remember mine looking…quite different from the others, last time.” He grimaces at the memory.

Akira grins, “Now, where’s the fun in that? Russian roulette is boring if you know which chamber holds the bullet.”

Akechi raises an eyebrow, “But you do know where it is. You’re the one who plated these, are you not?”

The other boy shakes his head. “I had Boss do it for me, I honestly have no idea which one it is.”

Akechi stares at him, trying to determine if he’s lying. He doesn’t seem to be, but still. “No.”

Akira crosses his arms, shifting his weight to one side. “Coward.”

“Certainly not. I simply care to retain my sense of taste.”

He pouts. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not for a minute.”

He grows serious. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

At that, Akechi leans forward, interested. “Oh? And how would you propose to do that?”

“A question.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Akira leans in as well, placing his elbows on the counter. “If you bite the bullet, figuratively of course, I’ll answer one question from you. Any question you’d like. With full honesty.”

Akechi conceals any reaction. “Is that so?”

Akira nods. “It’s a win-win. You either leave with your taste buds intact or with additional information of your choosing. What do you say?”

The detective stares at him a moment. It’s obvious he’s quite serious about the whole thing.

He shrugs. “Why not? There seem to be no downsides for me.”

The other boy grins, taking the dish in his hands and extending it toward Akechi. “Well then, let us start the game.”

Akechi takes one of the balls of dough, staring at it blankly. He’s honestly not sure whether to will it to be normal, or hope it’s the spicy one. As awful as the prior experience was, the opportunity to ask any question to the other boy….with a guarantee of an honest answer? He’d be a fool to pass that up. He pops the takoyaki into his mouth and bites into it gingerly. It’s plain. He breathes a sigh of relief reflexively.

Akira laughs at him before scooping up a piece of his own and popping it into his mouth. He chews for a minute then swallows, grinning. “Two down.”

Akechi steels himself and takes another, eating it more quickly than the last. Another blank. He finds himself feeling a mixture of relief and regret. He watches as Akira pops another takoyaki in his mouth.

The instant the other boy bites into it, Akechi can tell it’s the spicy one. To his credit, Akira’s expression doesn’t change. The only indication that something is wrong is that he pauses in his chewing for just a moment, resuming slightly more gingerly. Well, that and the fact that tears are running down his face as if someone has turned a faucet on him.

The detective can’t help but burst out laughing. “It seems we’ve found the bullet.”

Akira swallows delicately, trying not to grimace as he works the remains of the takoyaki out of his teeth. The longer he stands there the hotter the fire now burning in his mouth grows. Losing his composure, he slams his hand down onto the counter, panting. God, how did Akechi even have the ability to form coherent words after eating this? He struggles to force sound out between gritted teeth, “-cuse…m-mm…me.”

He turns and walks more quickly than he’d like to the refrigerator, grabbing the carton of milk and chugging. He’ll have to buy a new one for Boss before the store opens tomorrow, but can’t bring himself to care. The relief is instant, but it can’t completely block out the blaze. At least it’s made it more manageable. His ability to think somewhat restored, Akira walks back out to the shop.

Akechi manages to curb his laughter for the most part, but his shoulders still shake slightly. “I see what you mean now. You did make the most amusing expressions I believe I’ve ever seen. Thank you for that.”

The other boy looks at him and grins, “Anytime. So about my question.”

Akechi freezes. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Akira looks at him pitifully, playing it up. “So you won’t, then? How unfair.”

Akechi thinks on it. It’s not as though they have anything on the case that Akira doesn’t already know, and as for everything else….well, he can just lie, if need be. He sighs. “Fine. But I can’t imagine what you could possibly want to ask me.”

“Do you like me?”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. “Of course. As I’ve said before, you’re very interesting to me and I-“

“That isn’t what I mean.”

“Then what do you…” but Akechi is suddenly aware of just how close Akira’s gotten. “Oh.” Having leaned in again, Akira has once more put them just inches apart. However, it seems to have a much different significance this time. A blush colors Akechi’s cheeks as he resists the impulse to draw back. He looks at Akira. The other boy’s gaze is so intense that Akechi finds himself avoiding it as he answers. “I...suppose I do, yes. In that way as well.”

Akira is silent. Akechi can’t quite bring himself to look and see what type of reaction his response has elicited. They stay like that a moment, then Akira breaks the silence.

“Can I kiss you?”

Akechi freezes, a pool of warmth forming low in his stomach at the question. He remains still, refusing to back away and continuing to avoid Akira’s gaze. He simply nods.

It’s soft, and more gentle than Akechi would have imagined from the other boy. Upon seeing his consent, Akira had cupped the back of Akechi’s neck, sliding his hand up and grasping the other boy’s hair as he closed the distance between them. They kissed like that for just a moment before Akira broke away, taking a step back and playing with his bangs nervously.

Akechi is silent a moment, processing. He brings his fingers up to his lips, touching them curiously. He can feel a slight tingling on them from the heat of the spices in the takoyaki. It’s not entirely unpleasant. Looking for something to break the silence, Akechi says the first thing that enters his mind. “That was two questions.”

Akira laughs at that, a smile lighting his face. “You’re right. I’m not sorry about that though.”

Akechi mirrors his smile, cheeks flushing pink. “No, I suppose I’m not either.”

They stay like that for a bit, simply drinking in one another’s company. Eventually, Akechi breaks the silence once more. “Unfortunately, I believe it’s time for me to make my exit. The trains will be shutting down shortly.”

Akira takes his coffee mug from earlier, reaching out with his free hand to take a strand of the young detective’s hair between his fingers, twirling it absently. “You could stay.”

Akechi chuckles lightly, “Another time, perhaps. But thank you.”

Akira tucks the strand of hair back behind the detective’s ear before standing upright again. “Goodnight, Akechi.”

As he rides the train back home, Akechi can’t help but smile and think on the school festival and its Russian takoyaki a bit more fondly. Perhaps it had its benefits after all.

#goro week #goro week day 5 #goro akechi #akira kurusu #akeshu #put this one down for stories that did NOT go in the direction they'd started #but I just write what these boys tell me

[rekarra]

Breaking Through Shadows | Chapter 1

Plot: What has started as just a dream would end up changing the course of my life. But what else could I have expected when vampires get involved.

Genre: Fluff, angst, eventual smut.

Word Count: 3.2k+

Pairing: Leaving this blank for now, for plot reasons, or something.

Point of View: First person oc

Warnings: Language, medical talk, nothing too intense

Rating: Teen but eventually 18+

Author’s Note: Well, here’s my first chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. I’m not sure when chapter two will be up as I have some real world stuff going on in the next week, but I’m hopeful I’ll have it up by the middle of next week. A quick shout out to my beta reader, best friend, and my own personal Bunny, @xxfxckitxx, who is also my number one hype woman and my constant support. Thank you for pushing me to do this, even if I drag my feet on occasion.

| Prologue |

Reaching over to my phone, fingertips just brushing the thin piece of glass, circuitry, and metal. I silenced the obnoxious blast of my alarm with a slight thought. I knew what the time was, what the weather was going to be, how a friend from high school had posted a picture of her newborn baby to social media, and several other things from just that one brief touch of the phone. Being a technomage did have its advantages sometimes.

Technomages were the natural evolution of witches. It seemed that as technology advanced in the mundane world, magic needed to keep up. We were no longer bound to the stereotypes of having to brew potions. I still did, though, as a matter of practice. Most everything a magic user needed to be able to do is done through the ever-growing world of cell phones and computers. Most every human interaction, magical or not, had an element of technology to it. Everyone in the modern world either always had a cell phone on them or they are attached to their computer, both for work and pleasure. Magic had to adapt. So here I was, hand hovering over my phone as the dream I had just woken up from streamed on to my private server, just like uploading a YouTube video. It had only taken a small thought for it to happen, but I wanted to be able to reexamine this dream, just like I had the past three nights. Always the same dream. Always ending before I could see their faces. There was a reason I kept dreaming about this, and I was going to figure it out. It had that feeling of a life-changing event, like the way a major thunderstorm can be felt in the air. An almost electric feeling that set my teeth on edge and put a small buzz just behind my eyes. As if on cue, my phone rang just as the stream of my subconscious events ended. I would have known who it was in an instant, even if my magical abilities had rendered caller ID useless, just like if Chyler was not psychic, the fact that she was my soulmate would have let her know that I was awake and slightly on edge. With nothing more than a thought, I answered the phone. “You had the dream again, Mallory.” It was a statement, not a question, as Chyler’s voice drifted from the speaker. I sighed loudly. “Yeah, for the third night in a row. I just got done pushing it to online storage, but I don't have the time to go back over it now. It feels weird though, doesn't it?” I paused, considering why it felt odd. “Like, I should know who they are or something. We are never that hyped for that kind of show. Hell, we don’t even go to shows like that! When was the last time you saw that many preteens with their parents at Slipknot? We’re usually dodging guys wearing too much black leather and metal.” I racked my fingers through my hair, getting out of bed to get myself a cup of coffee, leaving my phone where it was, knowing I’d still be able to hear Chyler, and her, me, from anywhere in my apartment. I pulled a cup from the dishwasher and turned on the coffee maker, not wanting to waste the small amount of energy it would take to turn it on with my magic. “Have you been able to catch anything from it, Bunny?” I asked the girl on the other end of my phone. She didn’t have to see what I had uploaded to my private server to know what I had dreamed about. The bond between our souls and her abilities meant that she didn’t even need to be in the same room with me, let alone touch me the way she had to with others, for her to “see” my dreams. She only had to send out the conscious thought to pick out the dream. Her breathing increases for a few seconds before she let out a shuddering exhale. “No, Mal. Nothing that you haven’t already felt. But it does have a flavor of something familiar. If you could get a look at their faces....” She trails off her sentence. That is how Chyler’s powers work. She either needs to be touching someone, or she must see their face, and with a bit of concentration, she is able to know everything about them. I was the exception to those rules. We had discovered it not long after we had met. We had become friends so fast, feeling like we had known each other forever. Chyler had confessed to being a psychic and had requested to read me, wanting to know herself why we had this instant connection. Agreeing, she took both of my hands into hers and looked up at me, her normally brown eyes turned a breath-stopping shade of blue as she saw my past. And not just my past in this life because when her eyes turned back to their rightful color, she blinked back tears, asking me if I wanted to see too. I had quirked an eyebrow at her but nodded anyway. She had settled her hands in a slightly different place, her middle and ring fingers placed on the pulse points on my wrists. I had just been able to ask her what she was getting at when her eye changed again, and suddenly I was seeing what she had seen. It felt like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds. I relived my life in reverse. From sitting down in the little mom-and-pop cafe we were in, to meeting Chyler for the first time, back to high school and the insignificance it was to my life. Back to when I had learned about my abilities and I had accidentally blown up the T.V. in a fit of puberty induced anger. Back to being a small child and not having a care in the world, back to my first breath. But it did not stop there. I saw my death in my most previous past life, all the things I had carried out then. Seeing all those events, up to the first breath. Then, again, seeing my death in the life before that one, and the one before that, and before that. All of them. And in each one of them, there was one defining spark in each one. Chyler had always been with me. Always there. We had been everything to each other over our lifetimes. Friends, sisters, mother and daughter, lovers. From the moment our souls sparked into existence, the link between them became iron-bound. With tears streaming down my face, I came out of the trance and just stared at the woman sitting across from me, her hands still in mine. She searched my eyes, her own the size of dinner plates. “Well, I guess this explains why we’re so close.” I had laughed as I gently removed my hands from hers to wipe away the remaining streaks of moisture from my face, hearing her own laughter on the heels of mine. “And now you know what I am now and why I’m always so good with electronics, huh?” I had asked her while still laughing. “I’ve actually always known, Mallory. I was just waiting for you to tell me.” She smiled softly at me. “But we know why it seemed like we have known each other forever. We have. Literally! And I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve been able to use that word properly.” She was in full-out belly laughs now, doubling over on herself as she laughed with her whole body. “Mallory!” The voice over my phone snapped at me, snapping me back into the present. “Mal, your focus back with me again? Unless you can get a look at their faces, I can’t do anything other than say it tastes like something I know but can’t put my finger on what it is.” That is how she would describe it when she couldn’t see everything. It “tasted” in some way. “Well, fuck, Bunny....” I whined slightly out of frustration and the need for caffeine. “What if this is something really big? You’ve always been able to see what comes our way. Why is there a block on this?” “I don’t know, Mal, but I’ll keep going back on it and see if I can figure anything out. Also, your coffee is done, you addict,” she chuckled. “Go get ready for work and I’ll come over once you get off, okay? I know I don’t need to touch you to pick everything up, but maybe I’m missing something for some reason” I nodded before remembering that she couldn’t see me. “Sure Chyler, I’ll see you when you get here. Love you, Bun.” “Love you too, Firefly.” And with that, she hung up. I smiled softly at her pet name for me as I finished pouring my coffee, leaving just enough room for the vanilla creamer. This will be the only good cup of sweet, glorious caffeine I will get before getting to the hospital, and I intend to enjoy for as long as I can. As soon as the first sip passes my lips, I felt the buzz of the brew on my tongue, just sweet enough to cut the underlying bite of the bean’s bitterness. I took a few more sips, humming softly to myself before taking my cup with me into my bedroom. Setting the mug down on my dresser, I walked into my modest closet and set about readying for the day, picking out a scrub top that had all the Marvel comic book characters on it and matching teal scrub pants. This was the part that was so off-putting about the dream. There were aspects of it that were real to my life. I was a first-year nursing student when I had first met Chyler, and we both had received outstanding job offers when we had graduated. Outside of the concert and the seven mystery figures that were on stage, that was my life. Rolling my shoulders back, I left the closet, clothes in hand, and reached for my cup. I drained the contents before tugging my scrubs on. Another 15 minutes of getting my hair to look suitable and putting on light makeup, I was out the door. My drive to work was always a curious one, the 7pm to 7am shift means that I leave for when most people are just getting home, their workday ending as mine begins. I had just finished locking my door when my neighbor came walking up the pathway, her 2 kids in tow. She smiled at me as her little boy, who couldn’t have been any older and 6, looked at my shirt and started excited babbling over all the superheroes on my shirt. Bending down to his level, I asked him if he could name them all off, which he did with unexpected speed. I laughed as he started talking about who was his favorite and why. His mom smiled at the exchange before softly telling her son that I needed to get to work, so I could help save people who were hurt, just like all the characters on my top. She picked the small child up while he stared at me in wonder, wishing me a safe and uneventful night. I said my goodbyes and headed towards my car. The freeways heading into downtown were clear, just like they always are for me when I headed into work. It was moving out of downtown that the traffic was bad at this time of day. It would take me an hour or more to get to work if I had the normal 8-to-5 schedule that most people stuck to. As it was, I pulled into my parking stop at the hospital a mere 30 minutes after I had left my apartment complex. I walked into the building, heading to the emergency room staff locker room. As I was putting my backpack and lunch in my locker, the charge nurse for the ER, Mark, approached me. “Ms. Adams.” I cringed slightly at his use of my last name, knowing he was about to stick me with something I probably wasn’t going to like. “I hope you’re ready for this evening. We have a VIP coming in and while I normally wouldn’t assign anyone to it and let whoever gets it, take it, but you are the only nurse I have who knows multiple languages and it seems our patient and his manager only speak Korean. We won’t be able to get a translator here for some time. You don’t happen to know Korean, do you?” I didn’t actually, right now anyway. A simple touch of the phone in my pocket and a muttering of the Romanian word “Traducere” under my breath and I was a fluent as a native-born immigrant. I nod as I look up at my head nurse, confirming to him that I was able to communicate with whoever it is that will be coming in. “Who’s coming in, Mark?” I asked the middle-aged man in front of me. “I really don’t know, Mallory.” He answered. “He’s supposedly come famous rock star or something, on tour with the rest of his group. The whole thing is being treated as quiet as we can. These guys are important enough to garner full security measures. They contacted the hospital director to make sure there were enough guards in place to keep anyone who isn’t supposed to be here out.” The tension in my shoulders pulled them back a little straighter as Mark filled me in, my nerves getting to me slightly as I began to feel the weight of the situation that was about to be placed on me. Trying to relax them, I asked, “What is he coming in for, Mark? What should I be expecting and what all do I need to get prepped?” “It seems he fell off the stage during rehearsals and might have a concussion as well as potential broken bones. He’ll need x-rays as well as a CT scan and a full blood workup. We should also check for any internal bleeding, potentially broken ribs, and if there are, a scan of the lungs just to make sure there’s nothing that’s going to hinder his breathing.” My eyes widen slightly at everything Mark was telling me as we walked on the emergency room floor. “Shit, Mark. How big was this stage he fell from?” Mark sighed. “I don’t know, but the hospital administrators want everything on this guy checked. If everything goes well, this will be an amazing boost of publicity for the hospital. And I don’t even want to think about what would happen if something went wrong while this guy is under our care.” I could understand Mark’s worry. It wasn’t that long ago that an actor had died in a hospital in California and the hospital had taken a serious hit in benefactors for it. I took a deep breath, holding it for a moment in hopes it would help me calm down. Letting it out, I slipped into “work mode” where anything that was not an immediate concern about the patients who would be under my care faded away. “How long before he gets here?” My voice has gone a bit softer with a calming cadence to it. “He should be here in the next….” Mark was interrupted as an ambulance pulled up, the paramedics getting the occupied stretcher from the back, rushing inside. I glanced at Mark with a slight smirk. “You were saying?” Turning to the paramedics, I told them to take the patient into room 7 quickly, a tall man who was wearing a breathing mask following close behind them. I nodded my head slightly in his direction, hoping he would take it as a sign that I was to be the one taking care of his talent. “Well, I guess it’s time to get to work.” I said in Mark’s general direction before heading off after the group that had just passed me. The paramedics had just finished moving my patient on to the examination bed as I approached the door to the room, two security guards heading towards me. Smiling slightly, I showed the guards my badge before they had a chance to even question me. I was waiting for the paramedics to leave, with the stretcher before entering the room. Walking in, I smiled warmly at the two men who were left. “Hi there. My name is Mallory and I’ll be your nurse this evening.” I said in nearly flawless Korean, intentionally making a mistake or two to keep suspicions down. I walked over to the man lying in the bed, my calm and professional demeanor taking over me, pushing the last bits of nerves from me. “What would like for me to call you?” “You can call me Taehyung.” My patient told me in a muffled but surprisingly deep voice. I couldn’t see much of his features as he, and the man behind me, both had on masks that covered the lower half of their faces, but Taehyung’s eyes were among the most striking I’d ever seen. The mop of obviously dyed blonde hair was tousled in such a way that, even with the intensity of his eyes, he had boyish quality to him. Nodding, I quickly reached for the in-room computer so I could start filling in his information. “Okay, Taehyung. Tell me about what happened and why you came in to see me tonight.” I smiled brighter, trying to make him feel at ease so he’d tell me everything I needed to know. He started to recount the fall from the stage, looking at the man behind me as if for confirmation of the events. I turned and addressed him. “Were you present when Taehyung here fell, Mr….?” I trailed my sentence off, waiting for him to fill the bank in. “Mr. Sejin. And yes, I was there. I’m the boys' manager.” He said. “Okay Mr. Sejin, how about you tell me what happened while I start getting Taehyung’s vital signs?” I asked of the man.

Mr. Sejin began to tell the exact same story that Taehyung had started telling me as I turned away from them both to grab the cart that housed the blood pressure monitor. I closed my eyes to keep from rolling them while taking in a deep breath. They were hiding something and I wouldn’t be able to do my job unless I knew everything.

I turned back to Taehyung, reaching out to grab his arm. As soon as I made contact with his skin, I knew what it was they were hiding. My eyes widened as my fingertip touched skin that was much too cold for the ambient room temperature and as I watched, Taehyung’s eyes flashed the pure and blinding green that could only mean he was one thing. Vampire. I sucked in a sharp breath at the realization, knowing my heart rate had increased as a small pang of fear cut through me. Taehyung, however, seemed to be mesmerized by me, grabbing on to my hand with a gentleness that would only be reserved for you had spent a lifetime caring for and loving. I quickly leaned in, whispering, "I know what you are and I know you're not hurt. Why are you here?" When he spoke, it was but a breath and it held the same respect and softness with which he was holding my hand. “I found you again.”

| Chapter 2 |

#bangtanarmynet #bts #bts vampire!au #bts smut #vampire!bts #bts idol!au #kim taehyung #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #paranormal #breaking through shadows

[lyricdissonance]

odds please! for ask thing

1. How do you define your sexuality?i’m bisexual, i also identify as queer3. At what age did you first suspect that you are sexually attracted to other girls?first started realizing i “like like” girls instead of just “like” at 15 I believe?5. Did you have an “aha I like girls” moment or was it more of a gradual realization?gradual realization, i had a whole lot of female actresses and musicians i really admired and then realized i was also attracted to them. then i kinda brushed that aside for a while, thinking that my celeb crushes didn’t count as real crushes, before i also got crushes on girls i knew irl which made me realize i definitely wasn’t straight7. How did you become comfortable with your sexuality?reading posts by bi bloggers on here helped a whole lot, they made me realize that i didn’t have to fit a narrow definition to be “allowed” to call myself bisexual. and as someone who grew up in a conservative environment, i probably wouldn’t have discovered my sexuality when i did without tumblr since i’d never been told before that it was ok to not be straight, and i thank the internet for showing me there are other ways to live life

9. Who was the first person you came out to? How did they take it?it was by text message to a male friend who was the only other bi person i really knew at the time. he was super supportive and we haven’t talked in a while but i’d love to catch up with him someday11. How out are you?out to friends and two family members, but closeted to most of my family. which means i can be gay on tumblr and twitter but not instagram and facebook. funny how that happens13. Was anyone surprised when you came out or did people seem to already know?a few people have been surprised, but these days when i meet someone new i prefer to casually mention my sexuality rather than do a real “coming out” and i don’t normally get any reaction from that15. How soon after meeting someone do you usually tell them about your sexuality?like the last answer, if i feel like i can trust them i’ll just try to slip it into conversation. i don’t have a timeline for when i do it though, it’s just whenever i feel ok doing it17. Have you ever wished you were completely straight?not so much that as just wishing my sexuality could be not a big deal. i’d love to be out to everyone but i know it would cause problems in a lot of my family relationships19. If you are not a lesbian, about what percentage of the time do you find yourself attracted to other girls?i gave up using percentages a while ago but i’m attracted to men and women about the same amount overall21. How often do you find yourself trying to sneak a peek or stare at a cute girl?only all the time because girls are Too Cute to not do that

23. What is your current relationship status?

single af

25. Do you remember anything about the first time you kissed another girl?i’ve kissed one person and she was nonbinary, we were hanging out in her dorm common room when she went for a kiss on the cheek and i was like “well we might as well do one on the lips too”27. What is your ideal first date?wherever we go i want us to be having fun! i love going out for food or drinks but if we don’t have a connection then it’s just us staring at our plates so there’s always that risk of it being too awkward. i’d love for us to try something new where we can talk and laugh while getting to know each other29. How flirty are you?i’m the certified worst at flirting. i’m trying to be more confident but my idea of flirting right now is staring across the room31 Do you want have children someday?no but i want to volunteer with children someday and do something to help make their lives better33. How often are you asked if you have a boyfriend?not often, i think my family is used to me saying no by now lmao35. Have you ever been on your period the same time as a girlfriend?nope (see above, single af)37. Have you ever been in a long distance relationship?nope39. Has a girl ever dumped you for a guy? Have you?nope and nope41. Have you ever had a crush on a straight girl?oh yes43. Would you ever date a trans woman?absolutely45. Where do you think is the best place to meet a potential lover?

a wendy’s parking lot in upstate new york 

somewhere where you can meet people who have a common interest, like a bookstore or a dance class or an lgbt event. but the romantic in me wants to believe that the love of my life could be found anywhere

47. Have you ever cut your hair super short? If not, would you ever want to?have not but would love to! even if i don’t like it i want to be able to say i tried it49. What is your opinion on septum/bull nose piercings?don’t want one for myself, but i think they’re cute51. How muscular are you?not very53. Have you ever been told that you don’t look gay, or that you’re too pretty to be gay?

hasn’t happened to me

55. Do you wear skirts and dresses? If so, how often?i may not consider myself very feminine but i do love how skirts and dresses look on me. so like once or twice a week on average?57. How much jewelry do you typically wear?i go without it a lot but i like wearing a piece of statement jewelry when i think an outfit needs it59. How often do you wear a bra?almost always when i go out, but home is a No Bra Zone61. Have you ever worn a suit?nope but i’d try it!63. Do you carry a purse?yep, i find it convenient to have all my stuff with me65. Have you ever worn any men’s clothing?because of my body shape finding men’s clothes that fit well is Hard but i’ve worn men’s shirts on occasion67. Have you ever shared clothes with a girlfriend?

no but i like this idea so cute girls who are my size please hmu

69. Who is your favorite LGBT celebrity?my faves include freddie mercury, janelle monae, st. vincent, and lady gaga71. Have you ever watched Will & Grace?nope73. How well do you feel LGBT women are portrayed on television?i’d like for us to survive to the end of the show for one thing. and not be overly sexualized. i’m glad that we’re seeing more positive and happy depictions like on b99 but we could always use more75. Do you watch any LGBT YouTubers?tbh i don’t really follow any youtubers77. Do you have a favorite LGBT themed blog or website?i follow a lot of gay blogs on here, too many to choose a favorite. and i really like autostraddle.com79. Have you read any LGBT themed literature? If so, do you have any recommendations?

i really need to start reading more lgbt lit, but shoutout to the misfits by james howe which was the first time i ever encountered gay characters in literature. i think it’s important that that book showed a gay boy who was unashamed about liking feminine things and had friends who supported him. i know my young mind was opened a little after i read it. and now that i’m looking it up again it turns out the author is gay which makes it even better!

81. Boobs or butts?Certified Boob Lover (tm)83. Ellen or Portia?

probs ellen

85. Have you ever been to a gay bar or a gay club?no but there’s a gay club that’s popular w people at my school that is on my list! 87. Do you have any LGBT relatives?my sister, no others that i know of89. How outdoorsy are you?i’m definitely more outdoorsy than i used to be! i’ve learned to enjoy a bit of hiking, kayaking, and exploring but i still don’t do well with heat and bugs lol91. How many rainbow items do you own?one rainbow rubber bracelet, and a couple of bi pride items93. Have you ever participated in the National Day of Silence?no, as far as i know it was never a big thing at my school? i knew one or two people who did it95. Have you ever attended a PFLAG (Parents & Friends of Lesbians and Gays) meeting?no, i’m kinda curious about what a meeting would be like tho97. Have you ever been part of a softball team?nope99. Do you play any video games?

well i used to be a hardcore nintendogs player back in the day

101. (on a scale of 1-10, how attractive are...) Women who wear glasses?glasses on girls are GR8 - 10/10103. Women who are covered with piercings?kinda neutral on this, i support women getting the piercings they want but "covered with piercings” isn’t really something i look for in a person - 6/10105. Women with short hair?if you have short hair i am guaranteed gay for you - 10/10107. Tall women (i.e. around 1.83 meters/6 feet or taller)?

*wearing a shirt that says I

109. What does equality mean to you?to me it means i’m treated the same as anyone else and i have all the same opportunites111. Do you eat meat at all?yes113. How do you feel about the terms “woman crush” and “girl crush”?i find them harmful to girls trying to figure out their sexuality bc the implication of a “girl crush” is that all women have crushes on women and that it shouldn’t be taken as serious attraction. that being said i think a not-insignificant amount of women who say stuff like that just haven’t realized yet that they are attracted to women (i was one of them whoops) and i hope we can find ways to talk about the “girl crush” problem that leave room for questioning people to talk about their feelings115. How do you feel when people use the word gay to mean things such as stupid, dumb, boring, or idiotic?i hardly ever hear it anymore but i don’t like it117. What are your views on gender identity and bathroom use?everyone should be able to use the bathroom that they feel safest and most comfortable in, gender neutral bathrooms need to be everywhere, and any lawmakers who want to get in the way of that can fuck outta here119. Have you ever been called a gay slur?nope121. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your sexuality or gender identity? If so, please explain.not like, personally, but the number of people who have said in my presence that they “don’t believe” in bisexuality is Too High123. Americans: How did you feel on June 26, 2015?it was really incredible, i’d been watching as state by state (including my own) had legalized same-sex marriage and suddenly it was all across america. seeing all the love and happiness being poured out on that day was amazing125. Have you ever tried to “pray the gay away”?luckily i’ve never been there, but it breaks my heart to think about people going through that127. What LGBT stereotype do you most disagree with?"bi women are just doing it for male attention” excuse you i’m clearly doing it in the hopes that jenna coleman will fly to the states and elope with me get your facts right129. What advice would you give to a girl who is struggling to figure out her sexuality?

take your time! you don’t have to 100% understand your feelings but please let yourself feel what you feel and remember you are not alone. and i want to be here for questioning girls the same way that other people were there for me when i was questioning so if you need someone to talk to i am always here.

#thanks anon!!! <3 #wlwask #Anonymous #ask

[landonsadventureland]

Landon’s Adventure Land - Episode 1 Release Statement and Still Frames

Long Post Alert!

I’m please to announce the release of Episode 1 of Landon’s Adventure Land and a subsequent release of a new episode (5-10 minutes in length) each month starting June 1, 2020.

Back on August 20, 2019, we released the Opening Scene on Landon’s Birthday.

Special thanks to LaVerne and Landon for their support, encouragement and love during this process! I couldn’t have done this without them and will continue to need them as this project expands! I love y’all!!!

Back story:

At the end of 2018, I made the hard decision of closing my graphic and web design and custom clothing line (gear) business after my most successful year in business and shifted to a personal project for my son. I knew back in 2014 that I wanted to create an animation for Landon after his birth but didn’t know anything about animation, let alone 3D animation.

I know some of my clients felt that I abandoned them and I felt pretty bad, but this was something that I wanted to do for awhile and a promise I made to my son after he was born in 2014, when I made his first Custom Avatar. Also, I left all of my graphics and clients in good hands with my wife, LaVerne and she did an AWESOME JOB in continuing the high quality graphics and gear!!! Thanks Babe!!!

So in 2019, I started limiting my time on social media to focus and I was hoping to get started at the beginning of the new year, but found myself getting overwhelmed of the amount of information and research involved in creating a 3D animation.

So after getting discouraged, I finally set down with Landon on February 8, 2019 and proposed a business plan and told him that no matter what, I would create him his 3D animation and I would have something out by his birthday in August.

I once again dove head first into researching and trying to find the right software/program but got overwhelm, frustrated and defeated at times. I stepped away for a couple of months and in May of 2019, I realized that Landon’s birthday was fast approaching.

I had finally found a program that was the right fit for me and it was 100% FREE for me to learn it and create the animation at the same time. So after many google searches, YouTube videos and sleepless nights, I was able to create the Opening Scene for Landon’s Adventure Land. Although, it was far from perfect (I’ve updated it since then and it will be at the beginning of each episode), I was able to have it done and presented it to Landon for his 5th Birthday on August 20th of last year.

Then the real work soon followed, of still trying to learn the program and trying to learn how to make Landon’s character talk (get his face and mouth to move). I once again dove in head first and if I had hair on my head, would have lost it or pulled it out. I spent about 3 months of sleepless nights trying to make his character talk to no avail! This was mostly due to changing technologies where companies that embraced facial recognition technology, were dropping the technology within a year of just hyping it up. I felt defeated and decided to step away for a couple of months.

Soon, the new year had crept up on me and it was already February 2020. I struggled to motivate myself to get back into it, but kept moving forward with trying to create the environments/locations for the animation while creating the content, footage and verbiage (script).

I still had one major problem and that was getting Landon’s character to talk. I moved forward with the camera angle shots, but I could never show his face if he was talking and the camera would always be behind him and over his shoulder while he was talking. It wasn’t the perfect scenario but it would serve its purpose.

Then one late night while working and doing some research on facial recognition, I stumbled upon an app that seemed like it would work after others didn’t, because it easily integrated into the program I was using. I spent a few dollars to get the app and it seemed to be working, but I soon realized, it didn’t live up to what it promised.

I was still optimistic, because the app revealed something in the program that I had been working with for about a year and never caught it until then. I could make Landon’s character talk (make his face and mouth move) and could do it without facial recognition software!

THIS WAS A MAJOR SUCCESS THAT MADE ALL MY FAILURES OVER THE LAST YEAR OR SO SEEM INSIGNIFICANT WHILE WORKING ON THIS PROJECT!!!

I was on Cloud 9 and ecstatic and soon changed all the camera angles where the camera would be facing Landon’s character as he talked!!! This was a major improvement to the animation. But then I thought getting Landon to do voiceover for his character was going to be a difficult task, but he work with me on a couple of my short films I did while in school and he was a natural! He came through like the Intelligent Little King he is!

Although I’m still learning the program, I’m shocked at the progress I’ve made and what I’ve accomplished over this past year and a half. I had absolutely no experience with 3D animation (I went to school for graphic and web design and for digital video production——*the latter helped out with camera angles and lighting while working with the 3D animation software) and was able to self-teach myself something and produced a fairly decent product! I was also able to create a website, social media channels and pages, get everything copyrighted, trademarked and get other paperwork done to finalize the nonprofit that will be associated with the brand to ensure Landon continues to give back to the community!

This is only the start to a much larger project and I would greatly appreciate your (non-monetary) support in simply sharing the animations and subscribing and following Landon’s Adventure Land YouTube Channel, Facebook, Instagram, Tumbler and Twitter pages and website at www.landonsadvland.com.

Thank you and much love!

Respectfully,

Marlow M. Taylor

Founder/CEO

Taylor-Made Management Graphic and Web Designs

Creator/Owner

Landon’s Adventure Land

#LandonsAdventureLand #LAL #DadAndSonBond #3dAnimation #TaylorMadeManagementGraphicAndWebDesigns #TMMGWD #Action #Adventure #Conflict #MMA #Exercises #Music #Fun #FightScenes #Love #Guidance #Insight #Trust #Bond #Message