#the eighties were a time for skiing and fashion

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.6k] prompt: "I've never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time." Sick Steve, soft summer mornings and the promise of soup.

“I’ve never seen anyone look so cute and so ridiculous at the same time.”

Your words made Steve jump, the bed squeaking as he turned to face you with a delighted smile on his face. The tip of his nose was a little red, his cheeks flushed and his eyes looked tired, a little duller than normal but something in them sparked at the sight of you. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, voice rough and scratchy, “missed you.”

You pouted at his sore throat, flushed at his words and you moved into the room, setting down your things on his desk before opening one of the windows a little for some much needed fresh air. Steve had been stuck in his bed for the best part of three days now, struck down with the flu despite protesting that he was fine. 

It had taken him pushing himself into your side for a whole afternoon behind the counter of Family Video, shivers wracking his body as he tried to find warmth despite the Indiana summer outside, before he finally admitted defeat and went home early. 

“I brought you some soup,” you told him in a gentle voice so you didn’t hurt his already sore head, “and some fresh orange juice, some snacks and more medicine.”

Steve hummed contentedly, and you were sure you heard him murmur ‘angel’ before rolling out of his sheets so he could stretch an arm out to you, making animated grabbing motions with his hands. You huffed out a laugh, toeing your shoes off as you crossed the room, eyes on his bare chest and the ridiculous knitted beanie he’d jammed on top of his head. It was navy blue with snowflakes, a green pom pom on top that looked like it had been attacked by Dustin’s cat. 

“This is a new look, Harrington.” You perched yourself on the edge of his bed, one leg tucked underneath you as you smoothed your hand up and down the boy’s arm, shaking your head as he groaned happily. 

“I was really cold, but like,” Steve paused, eyes closing slightly at the comfort he found in your touch, “also absolutely fucking boiling.” He gestured to his bare chest and cotton shorts, lips downturned at his predicament. 

“Baby, it’s eighty five outside,” you told him, voice laced with humour but your eyes were crinkling with concern. You took your hand to his forehead, pushing his hair and the hat out of your way to press your palm to it. 

“Tell that to my feet,” he grumbled, sock clad toes appearing from underneath the comforter to poke at your thigh. 

You pouted for him, knowing that he was fed up of feeling unwell, sick of being alone and stuck inside. The summer outside still blazed on, Hawkins pool busier than ever and each new day brought brighter blue skies and missed opportunities for you to take a drive with your boyfriend, heading out of town and into trouble. 

“How’re you feeling today?” You murmured, sliding off his ridiculous winter hat so you could take your hands through his hair. It was soft, mussed from sleep and his choice in fashion, freshly washed and in a rare display, free from product. 

He groaned before answering, your nails scraping lightly over his scalp and you couldn’t help but smile at how his eyes softened, his lips parted for you. 

“Bit better than yesterday,” he mumbled, “still tired. Missed you,” he told you again, moving his head from his pillow to your lap, pushing at you a little until your fingers delved a little deeper, tugging lightly at the ends of his hair. 

He was practically purring. 

“I missed you too, pretty boy,” you whispered and it was true. 

It had only been two days, yesterday being taken up by overtime at work, babysitting duties and an argument with your parents that you couldn’t walk away from, but it was barely ten in the morning when you’d pushed yourself out of bed and walked over to the Harrington residence, bag of goods in hand. 

No need to ring the doorbell, or deal with the stilted, awkward conversation when Steve’s parents opened the door. The house lay empty, apart from the boy, and you’d used the spare key Steve had given you a few months into dating, a gesture that had had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“You heard from your folks?” The question was gentle, not pushy and you watched as Steve shrugged half heartedly from where he lay on you. 

“Nah, not since last week,” Steve mumbled, trying hard to sound like he didn’t care. “Mom said something ‘bout a conference in Utah, Dad said nothin’. Think they’ll be back by Thursday.”

You knew not to push it, to ask anymore questions when it came to Steve’s parents so you hummed non-committedly, pushing him gently off your lap and earning a grumble from him. 

But he soon understood as you pushed him back into his tangle of sheets, climbing in beside him and letting him settle over you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands pushing your shirt up to rub him thumbs over your skin. He pressed his face to your chest, cheek smushed against you and he hummed when your hand found his hair again. 

“M’gonna get you sick,” he mumbled forlornly but Steve made no move to get off of you. 

You tutted, making soothing noises as you stroked your fingers over his hair, his brow, the bridge of his nose. You watched his eyes flutter with it, his chest catch and release the breath that was stuttering in his chest. 

“Someone’s gotta look after you,” you murmured to him, voice soft with affection, “we can have a movie day, huh?”

You felt the boy's arms tighten around you, the press of his nose into your sternum as he dropped a kiss over your heart and he nodded. 

“Don’t deserve you,” Steve said, voice fuzzy from tiredness and the way he was still pressing himself into you, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if two days without you was far too long. “You’re too good to me, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, your chin brushing aggressively against the top of his hair and if he’d looked up at you, Steve would’ve seen the way his words made your lips pull down, sad and frustrated that he still thought that sometimes. 

“Don’t make me beat you up whilst you’re sick, Harrington,” you grumbled, your threat empty and without any heat. 

But it pulled a smile from him and he let out  an amused sound, twisting in the bed so he rolled onto his back, taking you with him and pulling you to his side. 

He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressing the bridge of his nose into the space underneath it, his lips dropping a kiss to the corner of your jaw. 

“I could still take you, gorgeous,” he told you grinning when you snorted. “You wanna have a roll around, and I’ll prove it to you?” Steve nipped at your earlobe, earning a squeal before you shoved him away, back into his nest of pillows. 

“Nice try, hot shot,” you laughed, lips twisted as you tried to hide your smile, “you’re sick, you need to rest.”

“We’ll agree to disagree,” Steve mused and you pushed yourself up, sitting on your knees as you looked down at him. 

You smiled, happy to see how his brown eyes were a little brighter than before, warmer and more awake as he gazed up at you from where he was sprawled out. His skin had more colour, a flush across his cheeks that looked healthier than the feverish pink he’d had before. 

“How about some soup?” You asked, looking at his digital clock on his nightstand, “It's almost lunch. We could eat out by the pool, dip our feet in and get you some fresh air?”

Steve’s hand found yours in the sheets, fingers twisting between yours so he could lift it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. 

“That sounds real nice,” he agreed, eyes shifting to the bag you’d placed on the desk when you arrived and he suddenly felt starving. “What kinda soup?”

You smiled, shifting off the bed so you could gather your treats, heading for the bedroom door. You watched over your shoulder as the boy tumbled out of bed, hair sleep mussed and on end from your eager hands, a little more bounce in him than before. 

“Your favourite,” you told him and his eyes settled on the faint outline of the container label that he could see through the bag. The Little Bakery, it read, and beside it, he saw a box of cookies and cannolis. “Plus some other things to make you feel better.”

He moaned a happy sound, his hand on the small of your back as you headed to the kitchen. You couldn’t see him as you walked down the stairs but the press of his palm on your skin was warm and comforting, and as you reached the bottom step, he took the bag from your arms, saving you from carrying it anymore. 

Steve bent as he did, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, grazing the corner of your lips. 

“Love you,” he mumbled into your skin, before padding barefoot into the kitchen, naked back, shorts slung low and you watched as he started pulling out pots and glasses for juice, the summer light slanting in from the window and painting him in gold and tiny rainbows. 

If you didn’t care about getting sick before, you certainly didn’t now. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic

[mcleodhyde1]

hermes crocodile kelly 5

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[please-buckme]

The View From The Fire Escape. (2/3)

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: fluff, sexual situation 18+, and ANGST BABY, and sorry.

Part 1 // Part 3

The sun beamed through your bedroom window shortly after you fell asleep, peeking it’s rays passed your makeshift curtains. You tossed and turned all morning as thoughts of Bucky ran through your head.

You’d seen him from afar almost every night since he moved in. At first he was shy, only ducking his head out for air every now and then. Eventually, though, you asked him to stick around, have a beer with you. He declined the offer the first couple of times, but one night he was out there before you as if he were waiting for you.

Since then, you were his late night remedy after another terrible nightmare. Some nights you would be too tired to set out and talk. Those nights were the worst for Bucky.

You helped him think of other things, helped him take his mind off of his past if only for a short time. So when you weren’t out there he had nothing but time to sit alone and think. Think of all the things he’s done, all the horrors of his past. His victims' faces flashing to life as he relives every moment. When you didn’t save him from himself, he could never go back to sleep. He was always too scared and frightened at what his mind would make him relive if he closed his eyes, again.

But sometimes, after you talk for a while, he would dream of you. Even though he’d only seen you from across the way as well, in his dreams he was touching your soft skin. He could still hear you giggling but this time in his ear as he kissed down your neck. Those dreams he cherished. You were the only positive thing his unconscious mind would grant him and he was okay with that.

//

Your alarm went off at 10am, giving you just enough time to shower, do your hair and get dressed. The weather outside was beautiful; clear skies and sunny. You dressed for summer for the first time in over a year. It didn’t take long for 11am to hit as you found yourself rushing around your apartment, scrambling to find your keys and wallet. Instead of putting your shoes on, you grabbed them and rushed out the door;

Locking the door from the inside.

You were late. Only by five minutes, but Bucky began to panic. You were the first person he was seeing that wasn’t part of him trying to ‘make amends’. He liked you and that was a lot for him to process already. You were the first person who was genuinely nice to him since the blip. He didn’t want to screw this up.

When you were six minutes late, the heavy breathing kicked in. As if he wasn’t nervous enough, now he’s sure you weren’t coming. He scratches his head in defeat and begins to walk away.

Before he could get too far, though, you come barreling out the door,

“Bucky? Bucky, oh my god. I’m so sorry.” You say out of breath. “One minute I was getting ready and the next my favorite song came on so I got a little lost and then- BAM” you shout, making Bucky jump in surprise. He could tell you were nervous too, just from the rambling. You rambled a lot when you were nervous. He found it cute.

“It was 10:55. I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t down here long.”

“No just-“ He looks at the watch on his right wrist, “about ten minutes. I was early.” He states, clearing his throat.

Once you caught your breath reality set in. Here he was. He was even more beautiful up close. But it was really just his face you could admire, the rest of him was covered from his neck to his toes in dark clothing.

“You know it’s, like, eighty degrees out, right?” You giggle, looking his attire over.

He sighed, “Ah.. yeah, I’ll be fine. This actually keeps me cool.” He lied.

“Really? Your black leather jacket with matching gloves keeps you cool?”

He shakes his head, smirking down at you, “Ya know, you’re way more annoying in this proximity. I think I’m just gonna-“ He laughs, pointing to his apartment.

“Shut up.” You say shoving his left shoulder. Your palm landed on his covered metal arm and Bucky grabbed your wrist gently before lowering it back to your side.

“So what’s the plan today?” He asks, trying to cut through the awkwardness he’d brought between the two of you.

“Well, first I’ll put my shoes on, and then I thought we’d go to the square. There’s some sort of event going on. I thought it’d be more fun to walk around rather than sit and talk.” You shrug.

You were awkward but confident in your own way. It’s like you embraced the awkwardness and Bucky loved that about you. To his surprise, but not really that surprising, you were more awkward in person. But also so beautiful. More beautiful than he’d dreamed. The skin that peaked through your clothing appeared soft. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but at the same time didn’t want to rush anything. Bucky was old fashioned in many ways and dating was one.

You beamed this sort of natural glow under your shy demeanor. Bucky smiled, “We can do whatever you want, after I help you with your shoes.”

“Oh.. you don’t have ta- waaa” Bucky helped you balance as he held your foot over his knee, placing the shoe on each foot, then double knotting your laces. “He can tie shoes too. God, is there anything you can’t do?” You giggle.

Bucky groans like an old man as stood back on his feet, “whistle.” He grins.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am.” He laughs, nudging your shoulder. “Come on.”

You smile up at him when he holds his right arm out to you. Your arm links with his as he walks you around the busy Brooklyn sidewalk.

//

The square was packed. Kids running around you and Bucky with every other step, it feels like. You watch as he held back a smile when a sweet little girl ran up and gave him a flower.

“Oh, is this for me?” He asked, kneeling down to her eye level. She nods, “Thank you, Doll. I’ll keep it til the petals fall off, how’s that sound?” He smiled as she giggled and ran away.

“And he’s good with kids.” You note aloud again.

“Kids are much easier to talk to than adults.” He smirked.

Bucky held onto the flower the entire time. It made your heart melt a little more each time you caught him twirling it between his fingers. He was simple. Even the smallest act of kindness went a long way with him.

You moved from booth to booth, shop to shop, trying on hats that made Bucky grin and ate the greased food Bucky's ever consumed. He watched as you talked to the small business owners littering the square just hoping for people to buy from their booth. He notices the crinkles by your eye when you laugh. He’d never seen such beauty in one smile. You were kind, understanding and patient with him and that’s exactly what he needed.

You never asked about his arm and he was so grateful for that. When he came out shirtless the first time he didn’t know you were there. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you waving over to him. He expected all the usual questions, but you never asked one.

Even today you grabbed it to drag him to another booth and you didn’t even flinch. This put Bucky at ease. You're the first person to hold his hand in years. It’s silly but it means more to him than you’ll ever know.

“What do you think of these?” You ask, trying on a pair of sunglasses.

“I like the other ones.” He points to the other pair in your hand.

“Hmm, okay. Just these then.” You pay for the sunglasses and walk back the way you came as the event was ending.

“Did you have fun?” Bucky asked, hesitantly moving his hand closer to yours.

“I had a great time, Buck. You’re good company.” His heart lurched at the complement. He stretched his pinky out towards the back of your palm, running it open and down your soft skin before you got the hint and took his hand into yours. You both wore smiles the whole way back.

The walk home was pretty quiet. You’d gotten a little more comfortable and rested your head against his leather covered metal arm, sighing as your feet began to ache.

“Thanks for hanging out with me.” You say once you arrived at your building.

“Thanks for inviting me.” He gave you a shy smile.

It was still midday and you were positive you’d be too tired to sit out tonight. In all honesty you weren’t quite ready to say goodbye just yet. You cleared your throat, trying to think of a way to get him upstairs without sounding too desperate.

“I’d love to put that pretty flower in a vase for you,” it wasn’t a great excuse but you gotta work with what you got.

“Are you trying to steal my flower?” He scoffed jokingly.

“Of course not I-“

“The audacity..”

“Shut up,” you giggle. “I’m just trying to get you upstairs, okay?” The air around you thickens. Did you really just say that? I thought we were going for not too desperate.

“I don’t think that’s-“

“It's okay, Bucky. I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye, is all.” The frown you wore made his heart sink. Has he upset you now?

“You know, I’m not really ready to say goodbye either.” He grins down at you. A soft sigh of relief comes from you and you smile, taking his hand into yours again and dragging him upstairs.

Once you opened the door, you kicked yourself for not cleaning up. It wasn’t too bad just empty beer bottles on your coffee table and an open pizza box.

“Sorry it’s so messy.” You apologize, picking things up on your way to the kitchen. “Would you like a plum?”

“No thanks. I have a bad history with plums.” Bucky says. You hum in understanding even though you were totally confused. But that is also going into the ill-talk-about-it-when-I-want-to-talk-about-it file.

Are the nightmares plum related? Anyways.

Bucky followed you to the kitchen and watched as you ate the plum. The juices of the plum stained your lips and even ran down your chin. Bucky was drooling over you. So beautiful and sexy and you’re just eating a plum. He hadn’t realized his mouth was hanging open as he watched you, but you did.

You smiled shyly, “Would you like a bite?” You asked, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He smirked, “Out of you or the plum?”

Your cheeks flushed as you swollen the remnants of the plum and the lump that now sat in your throat. “That’s entirely up to you, Buck.”

He smiled. He was a little nervous to go too far with you but he couldn’t stand it any longer. It’d been so long since someone noticed him the way you do and watching those juices drip down your chin did him in. He needed you just as bad as you wanted him.

He walked up to you slowly, taking the plum from you and biting into it. The juices now glossed his lips as well as he whispered, “how about both?”

A whimper fell from your lips, making Bucky lose all sense of control. Letting the plum slip from his fingertips, he cupped your face with his hands before smashing his lips to yours. He absentmindedly raised you to your tiptoes, so entranced with your taste. He could taste the plum on your breath and somehow that tasted even sweeter than taking a bite straight from the plum itself.

Bucky was drunk for the first time in decades and he didn’t need alcohol to do it; he just needed you. You were the elixir he’d been searching for all this time. He needed you as much as he needed oxygen to breathe.

You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your room as if he’d done it a million times before.

Your head hit the mattress as he laid you down. He groaned into your mouth, rubbing himself against you. “Bucky..” you whimpered once his lips trailed to your neck.

This was something you never thought would happen but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wanted all of him; his touch, his affection, his past, his secrets he’d never even tell his closest friend, his bad days, his good days, everything. You were overwhelmed with him, his cologne taking over your sense and his tender touches sending you into a frenzy.

Once he got to your chest, you sat up and flipped him over, pinning his hands above his head as you did so. You began to trail kisses down his neck now and undid his jacket.

Bucky winced when you pinned him down. He felt a panic attack approaching and he did everything he could to stop it. He tried to steady his breathing but with the way you were kissing him, that was never going to happen. He started counting to ten slowly in his head, but nothing he did could stop this attack from coming on. Flashbacks of being chained to gurneys and beds hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god-“ he cried, making you stop and look up at him.

“Bucky-? Are you okay?”

He couldn’t hear you through the pounding in his ears and the noises of them working on his arm that were etched into his memories.

“Stop-“ he cried out, more to himself than you.

“Bucky what’s wrong? Did I do something?” You asked worried but also a little frightened.

“Get off of me..” He whimpered.

“Bucky?”

“I said get off of me.” Bucky through you to the floor as he sat up. Tears streamed down his face now. The panic attack was in full swing and he didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he had to get out of here.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am.” He apologized just before running down the hall and out of your apartment.

Bucky left you confused, hurt and now frightened. Your body ached from being thrown to the floor.

All you knew was, the man you came into the apartment with wasn’t the same one who left.

Masterlist

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#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes marvel #marvel bucky barnes #tfatws bucky #tfatws spoilers #tfatws #the falcon and the winter solider #marvelcastedit #marvel cast #Bucky barnes fluff #Bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel fanfiction #the winter solider

[neverendingstories00]

you guessed it...another round (unfortunately) of BoB headcanons in the middle of the night because sleep is for the weak but I am weak

Luz has...a unique sense of style. We’re talking clashing patterns, neon crocs with jibbits, sunglasses and fedoras, you name it. Urban Outfitters who? He was wearing it before it was trendy🙄✋🏽 GET on his level. A wonderful example of his fashion sense is the time the company had weekend passes (modern au) and he decided to wear his best outfit; a white shirt with an horribly outdated meme, cargo shorts with a chain, nike socks, and neon crocs. To top it off; a fedora and sports sunglasses with a purple tint. Yeah, it’s BAD.

To add to the Luz and his horrible fashion sense, do any of you remember icarly and the penny tee’s saying stuff like “my cheese my rules” and “fries matter?” HE OWNS A WHOLE DAMN CLOSET OF THEM

I can see Speirs LOVING Lana Del Rey. He has a secret Spotify and has a whole playlist of his favourite songs by her. Actually not just Lana Del Rey, all the sad girls like Lorde and Mitski. If you catch Speirs singing in a velvet robe to Millon Dollar Man, no you didn’t. You would be dead by then.

Speaking of music tastes, let’s move onto Lewis Nixon. First of all, brace yourself. Lewis Nixon has reverted back into his college phase (like he ever grew out of it). He’s a huge fan of Alternative eighties rock like The Smiths, The Pyscadelic Furs, Talking Heads, The Cure, etc. He has all his old vinyls and it’s a cool collection. However, Nixon hates Morrisey, which is good. He complains about the Smiths, with The Queen Is Dead blasting in the back.

Speirs kidnapped Carwood Lipton one time. Carwood works as an English teacher and Speirs is his boyfriend who works as a real estate agent meets ex mafia hitman but he doesn’t talk about it. Speris one day was like “we’re going camping” and took Carwood...camping. But like the thing is...Carwood told NO ONE. And plus he had a job to teach so yeah. Let’s just say that Carwood might’ve been a missing person’s case for like two weeks. But he kept posting on his Facebook like “what a lovely hike with my lovely boyfriend😍” or “look at our rv? isn’t she something🥰” and George Luz would comment and be like “BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP WHERE RU”

Eugene wanted Babe to start eating healthier, so he took him to Trader Joe’s and made him buy a bunch of healthy snacks because in case you have forgotten, Babe is a literal baby. So Babe picks out a bunch of snacks but doesn’t realize it’s baby food, nor does Eugene. So Babe is casually munching on little yogurt bites and Guarno is like “Franny feeds that to our baby what the fuck” and Babe spits them out, mortified.

Floyd Talbert was apart of the dance team in middle. Like, he was the only guy on the team so it was insanely akwared. I can imagine him having a solo for “Womanizer” but getting kicked off the stage bc he started full on strip dancing in a glittery fedora in front of his prince pal. High school Floyd is an absolute nightmare.

Joe Liebgott eats Hershey Bars, Meat, and monster energy drinks only. No wonder he’s skinny. He’s such a picky eater, it’s horrible. Like he also loves weird food combos, like cheese and Oreos. Which is nasty.

Dick Winters LOVES Water Skiing. I’m not joking, it’s his favourite hobby. Catch your daddy Quaker in a pair of tight speedo shorts and Nixon’s aviators, gliding across the water.

HARRY!! How could I forget. I can see his man owning a bunch of cat’s and calling them “sweetie”, “honey”, “sugar”, and a bunch of cutesy names. All of the name’s were kitty’s idea. Speaking of Kitty, I can see her being a big girl, like height and weight. Harry worships her and calls her “my big beautiful Amazon” and Nixon thinks it’s weird BUT IT’S CUTE

Johnny Martin has a secret Twitter account that nobody is allowed to see. Instead of typing like a normal person, he smashes the keyboard. Nobody knows what he’s saying except for Bull. It’s very concerning.

For Halloween, the mortar trio have really strange costumes. One year, they were a rollercoaster. Other years they were the three musketeers, Alvin and the chipmunks, and the powderpuff girls. There costumes are genuinely terrifying to look at. Did I mention there the sexy versions as well? There worse costume was sexy rock, paper, and scissors. Mega yikes.

#band of brothers #speirton #winnix #carrie chats

[ppangjae]

made to fall in love | one

SERIES MASTERLIST

prev | one | next

SUMMARY. Seoul’s finest 30 under 30. The country’s youngest billionaire. 2019’s richest bachelor. But of all the women he could go after, he goes after.. her?

GENRE. fluff and angst + ceo!jaehyun (someone stop me) + nerd!reader + enemies to lovers!au + long lost friend!au

WORD COUNT. 2.2k+ words

warnings. tooth-rotting fluff, swearing, and tons of bickering!

author’s note. a new day, a new update! here she is! also i just wanted to let you know that this series is inspired and based off of the kdrama she was pretty! so if you come across a part in the series that reminds you of this kdrama, it’s because it’s inspired by it :-)

ONE. gold • it feels so gold, so gold

Sixteen year old Jaehyun ran so that present day Jaehyun could walk. If present day Jaehyun told sixteen year old Jaehyun what his life would be in the future, little Jaehyun would never believe him. Even until this day, he still can’t believe it.

Seoul’s finest 30 under 30. The country’s youngest billionaire. 2019′s richest bachelor. Jaehyun is all of those things and he worked hard for them. Those things didn’t come to him on a gold plate nor was it fed to him with a gold spoon. They came to him as products of his hard work.

His eyes flutter open at the sound of the pilot’s voice, announcing that the private jet will be landing soon. As he gets up, he rubs his eyes and opens the blinds to look out the window. The skies are a bright blue on this lovely morning, he thinks to himself. He overlooks the city of Seoul and lets out a groan. Just the sight of office and corporate buildings make him wish his vacation was a bit longer.

“I know, I miss Singapore too.” He glances to his right to see Johnny waking up from his nap. He chuckles, chucking his neck pillow straight into his face. Johnny blocks the attack right on time.

“Do we really have a choice?” Jaehyun sighs. “We have to go back to our busy lives and build a bigger empire.”

“You make it seem like you’re the king of a huge city.” Johnny rolls his eyes. “Please don’t ever say that again. It doesn’t make you look cool. It doesn’t make us look cool.”

“You know what’s cool?” Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at Johnny. He points at a huge building in the middle of the city. Surrounding the huge building are small company buildings, entertainment companies, law firms, etc. Johnny looks out the window and spots what his best friend is pointing at. “We own that.”

“No,” Johnny shakes his head. “You own that.”

BREAKING NEWS: Jung Jaehyun tops richest bachelor for a third consecutive year.

“Wow. You’re telling me that he’s your childhood friend?”

You and your roommate, Mark, are sitting in front of the TV. You’re both huddled around the coffee table, eating breakfast together. As you’re shoving a mouthful of cereal into your mouth, you nod your head. “Don’t believe me?”

“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Mark squints his eyes at you suspiciously. 

You dust your hands off and get up from the floor. As you walk into your room, you rummage through your closet to take out a memory box covered in dust. You blow the dust off the lid of the box and erupt into soft coughs. Mark watches you as you come back into the living room with a box.

“Where’s the receipts?” Mark asks.

“Someone’s impatient.” You mumble.

As you’re looking through your memory box, you can hear the reporter speak more about Jung Jaehyun. You finally find the graduation book and pull it out before handing it to Mark.

“Page eighty-seven, fourth row, second picture on the right.” 

You fold your arms and quirk an eyebrow. Mark’s eyes scan through the page and once he finds it, he looks back at the TV screen. His eyebrows raise.

“So you weren’t lying to me,” Mark says with an astonished look on his face. “Damn, you must secure the bag, then. The guy’s hella rich, he could pay off our student debts combined.”

“I just hope he remembers me,” you rest your chin against the palm of your hand. “He went to college abroad. He came back home rich. He moved out of our neighbourhood. The chances of him remembering me get slimmer and slimmer.”

“I’m pretty sure he remembers you. He should remember you. You’re a part of his childhood. You both graduated elementary and high school together.” Mark tries to convince you. He shoves another mouthful of cereal into his mouth.

“Do you think he would remember me? Me? When I look like this?” You ask, pointing at yourself. 

“You kind of have a point.” He shrugs his shoulders. “You lost your sense of fashion ever since you started university.”

Mark yelps in pain when your spoon hits him in the arm. You glare at him as if he had earned himself a death wish. He rubs the spot, glaring back at you. You pout, breaking your gaze from Mark to stare at Jaehyun’s picture on your TV screen.

Jung Jaehyun is your childhood friend. The two of you lived in the same neighbourhood, went to the same elementary school, and graduated from the same high school. He’s not what he is like now. The Jaehyun you met and befriended was a quiet boy who barely had any friends. He had two friends, you and Johnny. He loved to play the piano and if you were lucky enough, you would hear him sing or hum a soft melody. He had a dream of becoming an architect, someone who drew buildings and watch them come to life. The Jaehyun you met and befriended was always picked on. He was mainly picked on for two things: for being too quiet and for being the chubby one. You and Johnny were the only ones that defended him from the bullies. 

The Jaehyun you see on your TV screen is far from the Jaehyun you met. You never saw him or Johnny ever since your high school graduation. You’d often wonder if he’s doing alright, if he’s making friends, if he’s pursuing his future of being an architect. But once he came back to Seoul after studying abroad, all of your wishes for him were answered. Jaehyun is doing alright and he’s pursuing his future, he runs and owns a successful architecture company. He’s making friends, in fact, everyone wants to be friends with him. Sometimes, it makes you doubt that he’ll ever remember you.

You doubt that he’ll ever remember his childhood friend who grew up with him, who defended him from the bullies, who stuck with him no matter who he was. 

“I guess we’ll just have to find out on your first day at work,” Mark says as he brings up the bowl of cereal-flavoured milk to his lips. He gulps down the milk and sets down the empty bowl back onto the coffee table. “We’ll have to find out whether he remembers you or not.”

“This is all you guys prepared?”

Everyone seated in the meeting room gawk at Jaehyun. He sighs, folding his arms and takes one last look at the PowerPoint presentation. The project manager nervously fiddles with his fingers before nodding his head in reply.

Jaehyun gets up from his seat and walks towards the front of the room. He points at the 3D plan of a building. The building looks poorly made, almost as if it was done last minute. “How long did it take for you to do this?”

“Well―”

“You don’t need to answer my question because I can see it.” He cuts him off. “Just from how it looks, from how the lines are crooked, I know this took you less than half an hour.”

“Sir―”

“I was gone on vacation for two weeks. Even though I was gone on vacation for two weeks, I still did work during my downtime. What did you all do during those two weeks? Did you all have a good time?” Jaehyun shakes his head in disbelief. “I expected you to do a good job with this project. But after I go on vacation for two weeks, you all suddenly get lazy?”

“We tried our best, sir.” The project manager mutters softly and Jaehyun’s head snaps in his direction. 

He raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “You tried your best? Sure, let’s say you tried your best. But your best wasn’t good enough.”

Everyone falls silent in the meeting room. They have guilt written all over their faces. 

“Let me remind you that you’re working at Jung Architects,” he tells them. “I hate looking at poorly made projects because they don’t reflect our company values. We build and create buildings and structures to the best of our ability. They have to be functional and safe. They have to be perfect. They have to be economical.”

“We’ll try again, sir.” The project manager mumbles. “Sorry, sir.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me.” He sighs. “You have to apologize to all of your coworkers in this room for wasting their time.”

“Sir―”

“The new interns and engineers are coming in tomorrow.” Jaehyun announces and everyone’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“T-Tomorrow? Since when did we hire new employees―”

“Don’t be surprised if you lose your jobs because of them. The moment I find them more competent than this?” Jaehyun gestures to the presentation. He chucks the folder away from his hands. “I’ll be firing you from the company.”

They all bow their heads. Jaehyun grabs his coat and exits the meeting room, making sure that he slams the door shut. The moment he’s out of the room, everyone erupts into whispered complaints about how rude their boss was, if he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or if someone spoiled his daily coffee.

Ever since you started to hate working at your previous job, it drove you to start searching and applying for other jobs. It was just a huge coincidence that Jung Architects was looking for a structural engineer. 

For most of your life, you’ve dreamed of becoming an engineer. It didn’t matter what kind of engineer, you just wanted to be one. It was either an engineer or a mathematician ― it was your last resort only if your dreams of being an engineer were crushed. You have a gift in math. And so when you got accepted into a structural engineering program, it was all just meant to be.

Getting hired as a structural engineer at Jung Architects made your dreams even more real. It just seems too good to be true. But here you are.

Here you are, sitting in front of your laptop, deleting all the emails you’ve gotten from other companies and jobs. You didn’t need to respond to them anymore. Deleting them felt theurapeutic.

Just as you’re deleting your emails, you stumble across an email you’ve sent to Jaehyun a couple of years ago. You laugh in disbelief. Did you really keep an old email in your inbox? Why? You click on it anyway.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected]

SUBJECT: jaehyun!!

hey jae! you’ve probably landed by now. i hope you got my email. i wasn’t able to say a proper goodbye to you because johnny was too busy crying and i had to comfort him. well, i hope you do great in university! i wish you nothing but the best on all your endeavours. always stay true to yourself and don’t let anyone step on you! let me know if someone does because i will be ready to fly over and beat them up! also i hope you always remember your two best friends waiting for you and cheering you on here in seoul. you can always email me back! or text me. or call me, even.

until we meet again, ____.

You clench your tummy as you burst out into laughter. You vividly remember typing this email out while bawling your eyes out. On the day that Jaehyun flew out for university, you didn’t give him a proper goodbye because Johnny was crying like a whale swimming in the ocean. After that day, you and Johnny kept in touch. But that didn’t last long until Johnny found himself new friends. Ever since you sent that email, you sent him another email every now and then. But you never got a reply.

You sigh. That was the start of your separation from the two of them.

Just as you’re about to delete the email, you see a new email in the thread. The email is dated today and was sent a couple of hours ago. You quirk an eyebrow, adjusting your glasses to get a better look at the email. You click on it and your mouth falls open in shock.

It’s an email from Jaehyun.

“It comes in rose gold, gold, and sterling silver.”

Jaehyun picks up each necklace and analyzes them carefully. The jeweler waits for his decision, but he’s not sure if he could hardly wait anymore. Jaehyun has been looking around the jewelry shop for heaven knows how long. It’s getting quite dark outside and the shop is nearing it’s closure for the remainder of the day. Before the jeweler could let out a sigh, Jaehyun places down the silver necklace and points at the gold one.

“I’ll take the gold one, please.” He smiles.

He steps out of the shop with a new purchase and heads home. Once he arrives home, he goes straight to his home office. He plops down onto the chair and places the jewelry box onto the table. He glances at his computer and decides to check his email before heading to bed.

He clicks on his inbox and the smile on his face gets wider when he sees two new emails. One of them is from a client. The other... well, the other email comes from someone special. 

email delivered. email read. from: [email protected] to: [email protected]

SUBJECT: you replied?? omg??? hi????

author’s note. the first couple of chapters are going to be short but they will be longer soon! just sit tight some more lmao. anyways i hope you liked this short update! 

send me a message! let’s be friends!

#jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun blurbs #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun blurbs #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun angst #jung yoonoh #jung yoonoh scenarios #yoonoh scenarios #yoonoh #nct #nct 127 #nct blurbs #nct 127 blur #nct 127 scenarios #nct jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun blurbs #nct 127 jaehyun blurbs #nct scenarios

[bluuxriising]

It was the third of September, one of those cloudless, perfect days nestled between the heat of summer and the approaching winter chill. The sky was so blue that Bluu, getting out of the cab that had taken her to her destination, went stock-still and gawked upward at that fantastic blue bowl as if she had never seen the sky before. But, of course, she hadn’t—not like this. Not in Fog Hollow, where the skies were an endless gray, devoid of blue and the sun. A perpetual cycle of gloom that never lifted. Honestly, she had stayed on that island for far too long.

If there was one thing in life, Bluu knew, it was bright colors, and she had never before seen that particular shade of blue. It was incredible, more profound and darker, more affluent than any sky had the right to be. Just for today, this perfect day, the haze of atmosphere between heaven and earth had thinned, and Bluu was standing closer to the edge of the galaxy than she ever had before, so close that she felt almost as if she might be pulled into that blue, right away from earth. Away from all of her problems and doubts and remain in the stars with Zora. 

The sky was pure and dramatic, pulling her in and overwhelming her with the richness of its beauty. She stood there for a moment with her face upturned, her reason for coming to the city almost forgotten, and felt exalted by color, filled to overflowing, her heart swollen and aching with ecstasy and loss. When she finally remembered what she had come to the mainland for, her eyes were dazzled, but her expression was troubled, and her mouth trembled.

It has been too long.

Purse tucked under her arm, Bluu began her journey, eyes fixed on the apartment building she’d been searching for. The warm September sun beamed down on her as soon as she slowed her pace just enough to soak in the warmth, and she drew a deep sigh of pleasure at the heat. Most of the people she passed, except the business types who probably wore suits and ties to bed, were in short sleeves. A sign alternating with the time and temperature announced that the temperature was eighty-four degrees. Still, she was clad in a small navy blue beanie hat, folded to sit just above her ears, a chunky light gray rollneck, and dark pants complete with commando boots. To the regular passersby, she looked like a fisherman off to sea, but to her, it was the type of colorless fashion she’d been forced to adapt to due to the island’s cold climate. Besides, it wasn’t like the person she was visiting was going to care. Twenty minutes later, and she was securely inside the apartment building, standing before the door with her tiny hand raised, poised to knock.

‘You need to do this. Think of all the suffering you could prevent. Then, all that horror would be just a distant memory. A speck in the sea.’

‘Do it.’

Bluu swallowed thickly and knocked.

@shamsgoddess​

#BLOOMING STAR * II SHAMSGODDESS #A CALL FOR AID * II CLOSED RP #so yeah bluu has been living on fog hollow for so long that she forgot what the sun felt like #that place is dreary and gray and misty #where the sun does not shine and the clouds are gray

[therealcalicali]

Apple Thief

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and even more Angst

Type: One Shot

Wordcount: 7,003

“Y/N! You need not go.” Your ailing father called out from where he was sat by the fireplace. Though you lived in a cramped quarter, the main room was always the warmest. And due to his injury, keeping his temperature up was best. “From the looks of things, a storm is brewing. Did you hear me, Buttons?”

With a smirk you threw his cowhide overcoat atop your woolen pullover. It wasn’t as nice as the fur-lined cloaks most girls wore. But it kept you warm despite being unfashionable. After grabbing your gloves, you bounded into the main room. Peering out the window, you realized the skies were indeed overcast.

However, you couldn’t stay home.

Rain or otherwise, you had to earn some coin. Especially since the sum your Uncle left was depleted. He had given all he could before leaving for a nearby town to sell his wares. And since you had no inclination of when he would return, you had to be resourceful.

“Just look at you, Buttons….” Your father exclaimed as he did his best not to chuckle. “You look like someone cast a shrinking spell upon you.”

“The coat may be ill-fitting, but it’s warm. So, if you keep taunting me, I might never give it back.”

“Please, stay.” He said as his smile began to fade. He then pointed his walking stick in your direction. “As my only child, I have no desire to see you fall ill.”

“Papa, I cannot sit around hoping Uncle is on his way back. He is far off, and your medicines are finished. And what’s more, we are in need of foodstuffs.”

“We are not.” Your father countered. “What of the red yams and potatoes? We can get by cooking them with cabbage and carrots.”

“First off, we have two red yams and no potatoes. And as for cabbage and carrots, I used the last of them in last night’s stew. So, like it or not, I must venture out.”

“It’s times like these I wish we still had our chickens. The eggs would bring in good coin.”

“Don’t fret, Papa. I’ve been saving what Uncle gives me for my upkeep. I intend to buy at least four of them. Soon, we could even own a nice milking cow again.”

Your father’s gaze went to fireplace.

He was a proud man, and it truly hurt your soul to see him dejected. But it made sense for a former Kings’ Guard to feel inadequate. At one time, your father provided a very posh lifestyle for the family. But once he was maimed in battle, he was forcibly discharged with a paltry severance. Once that was spent, your father had no choice but to start using what had been saved.

As expected, hardship followed. So much in fact, your mother decided to abscond with the little coin that was left. That was nearly three years prior. But for you, the betrayal felt like it had occurred only yesterday.

“Papa, please do not guilt me going outdoors.” You said, walking to him and taking a knee. “If I promise to come home should the weather should take a turn, would that ease your mind?”

Reluctantly, your father nodded.

“And take my dagger.” He said, pointing to the table nearest the front door. The weapon was a magnificent piece of military craftsmanship. Something only most decorated of fighters were ever bestowed. Still, your father wanted you to have it. “From now on, it is yours.”

“But Papa, that is a relic of your service. You earned it with much blood and sweat. I cannot possibly think of wielding it. Besides, it’s far too valuable to be taken out of the house.”

“Y/N, the only thing of value that I have, is you.”

You couldn’t help smiling. After sheathing the dagger, you informed your father that you would soon return. As you exited the cottage and approached the stables, you were suddenly filled with great hope.

You made your way to the town square on the back of your Uncle’s trusty steed, Moss.

Being a thoughtful man, Gadin left town in a hired wagon so you would have transport. So, as you tied the horse to a wooden post, you gave him a soothing pat.

“Have no fear, boy. We shall not stay for long.” You said before reaching into your leather satchel. After grabbing a handful of apple slices and oats, you fed Moss. “Well, things are really bustling today. No doubt I will make some coin.”

And you had good reason for being confident. Aside from the handmade gloves you made, you intended to sell some jewelry. The silver necklace and earrings had been intended for your mother on her Naming Day. But since she abandoned the family prior to him surprising her, your father passed them to you.

When Moss suddenly whinnied and stomped his hooves, you grabbed hold of his bit.

With that, you turned on your heels and began walking toward the marketplace. 

Trade was truly flourishing because you had never seen so many foreigners in Stillwell before. But it was a good sign. It meant that soon, there would be expansions and all the other benefits that came with being a thriving village.

“Move your corpse, jackass!” A gruff voice bellowed.

When you turned to see who had spoken so rudely, a grey-haired elderly man pushed past. He was in such a huff, he nearly knocked you over. It was enough to make one angry had it not been so amusing. 

Because though he appeared exceptionally frail; the man hauled his cartful of wares with the strength of twenty men.

“Magic.” You mused. “Everyone that wields it or buys it, is a nuisance.”

Suddenly, something else caught your attention. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a foreboding man cloaked in black. Naturally, this piqued your curiosity. From what you could assess; the armor signified his status as a formidable warrior. Likely a mercenary or something along those lines.

You knew this because the symbol that hung from the stranger’s neck didn’t appear to belong to any King.

When you noticed the tufts of white hair peaking from his hood, you promptly realized he was no mere mortal. Mostly because such a hue was not be found amongst your kind. As he walked, the stranger behaved as if he didn’t wish to be amongst people. But despite this, he had a traveling companion. A pleasant looking fellow who seemed to be relaying information in a lively fashion.

“Those two cannot be from any of the nearby townships.” You mused. “Perhaps they hail from some of the wealthier domains.”

Realizing that you were getting distracted, you returned your thoughts to selling your wares. 

As luck would have it, your devotion to Ryrdohr, the God of Wonders, paid off.

Not only did you manage to unload your mother’s earring and necklace, but the silver merchant gave a fair price. Mainly, at the behest of his partner. As you were haggling, the man had taken one look before exclaiming that you reminded him of his late niece. For that reason, he forced his miserly friend to cough up more coin.

What you received, eighty Denars, was equal to a month and a half worth of wages. Thus, you were feeling quite blessed as you walked down the pathway toward The Bargainers Lot. It was where people that didn’t own traditional stands or storefronts conducted business.

As you passed a barrel-lined walkway, you heard a faint whistle. There, stood only yards away, a shabbily dressed boy, no older than twelve beckoned.

“Lass, might you have any food to spare?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder before looking at you again.

“Do not take me for a heartless person, little boy. But why ask such a thing whilst standing in an alleyway?”

“Apologies…….” He said as he rubbed his hands together. “But I must take care. I do not want the Sentries to see me begging. They are quite rough with street children these days.

Your father was right. It did appear that a storm would soon come. For that reason, you wished to give the child something. Enough to buy some food and even bestowing a pair of the gloves you intended to sell. 

However, you had no desire to enter the alleyway to do so. After all, nothing good ever came of venturing into secluded places.

“If you want food..…..” You said, reaching to your coat pocket and producing eight Fenning. It was coin to buy two meat pies and some peach ale. But the boy needed it far more than you. “I am willing to be of help. But you must come here and------”

The first shove cut you off midsentence. But the second swiftly knocked you to the ground.

Before you grasped what was occurring, you were set upon by three other children. As you struggled to unsheathe your dagger, one kicked you in the shoulder as another seized your satchel. Infuriated, you quickly realized that you had to fight back or risk losing everything.

“I am being set upon by bandits!” You screamed. “Help!”

You had expected your words to bring someone to your aid. But after a few seconds, you realized it was for naught. In Stillwell, as in most townships, people preferred to keep to their own affairs. That meant unless a Sentry happened upon the attack, you were on your own.

When you rolled onto your back, you managed to break the buttons on your coat. With shaking hand, you finally unsheathed your father’s dagger. Taking note of this, the three children stared, wide-eyed.

“Now, you little monsters! Return my belongings before I cut your throats.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!”  A raspy voice countered.

Peering into the alleyway, you spotted the owner. A man with a crescent moon upon his left cheek was now stood next to the boy that had beckoned you. Only a foot away, a fiery-haired woman aimed an arrow in your direction.

“Let’s kill her and be done with it.” She suggested.

Mercifully, he didn’t seem eager to comply. After pondering a moment, he motioned for one of the children to take your dagger. Alarmed at losing your father’s prized weapon, you pointed it menacingly.

“If you prefer, we can kill you and take it, all the same.” The man threatened.

From his tone, it was apparent that he was not simply mincing words. 

He spoke very much like an experienced butcher. Still, you could not compel yourself to hand the dagger over. As the three children stared wearily, awaiting their next directives, everything suddenly went black. 

“Aye, she finally returns to the living.” An amused voice announced.

As your vision adjusted to the light of day again, you winced. For whatever reason, a dull pain within your head became more prominent. Indeed, even looking at your surroundings proved difficult. Still, you managed to lift yourself off the bench and sit upright.

Since the pressure seemed to be concentrated at the base of your neck, you attempted to feel it. However, a hand swiftly caught you by the wrist.

“Do not go touching the wound, jackass.” The old man commanded. “You’ll only smear the Black Mares ointment that’s been applied.”

“Wha…………………where did those children go?”

“What children?”

It was then you realized whom you were speaking to. The old man tending you was the very same one that had nearly bowled you over. For whatever reason, he was the only person that came to your rescue.

“Sir, did you happen to see which direction those bandits went in?”

“I do not know what you speak of. But here is your eight Fenning.” He replied, shoving the coin in your palm. “It was scattered about your person when I found you.”

“But what of my satchel? Those people took everything!” You exclaimed as all that had occurred came to memory. “I must find a Sentry.”

The old man cackled as if you had said the silliest thing in the world. After stating that the Sentries did their job well, he added that they only did so for the affluent. However, someone of your caliber would have to pass coin to their hands.

“And from the looks of it Lass, you hardly have enough to sway them.”

After securing the kerchief to your head, he practically jumped his feet. You could only stare in astonishment as he then took hold of his loaded cart.

“But sir…………I have not even properly thanked you.” You said, scooting forward on the bench. “At least take this, for your trouble.”

The man eyed the four Fenning in your hand before sneering. With a gruff tone, he advised that you keep it. Adding that he did not assist you because he lacked the means to care for himself. Apologetic for offending him, you stated that you had not intended imply such a thing. Nevertheless, he had already begun walking away.

He moved so swiftly, you could only shout words of gratitude as he disappeared into the crowd. 

As you entered the small shop marked ‘The Long Caravan’, you pulled your coat closer to your body.

The light rain had already begun. Thus, you knew you only had a short time before the full gale set in. Though you had been robbed, you simply couldn’t go home empty handed. Especially without your father’s necessary medicines. So, if nothing else, you meant to buy the herbs.

“I accept no beggars in my establishment.” The snobby shopkeeper announced upon seeing you. “The soup house is down the road by the Great Sawmill.”

Incensed at the insinuation, you glared at her.

She then snapped her fingers at her young assistants, ordering them to set down two massive bags. One marked ‘corn’ and the other, ‘oats’. And that’s when you saw him by the Alchemy portion of the shop. The massive stranger clad in black. Even now, he appeared disinterested in his surroundings.

This was quite peculiar since he was apparently making purchases. But as for his companion, he was gingerly conversing with the shopkeeper’s husband.

“I said, no beggars!” She said once more.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not one!” You fumed, tired of her relentless assumptions. “I’ll have you know I’m here to purchase medicines. Or do you no longer take coin?”

Distracted by your words, the more jovial of the strangers stopped chatting.

He then leaned against a banister and folded his arms over his chest. Pardoning herself from the cloaked stranger, the woman sized you up before asking what you required.

“Four packets of Pearl Moss, two packets of Lakebarberry Leaves and four packets of Sour Quassia”

Despite wearing a spiteful expression, the shopkeeper went behind the counter. She then began measuring things out as you glanced around the shop. It was then you noticed the sizeable fruit display. From dragon pears to apples, there was good variety available.

“I’m so famished. I hope there is something left over.” You thought, pulling the eight Fenning from your pocket.

When you realized you were being watch, your head jerked in the direction of the white-haired man. At first, he appeared to be looking directly at you. But as you studied his expression, it became clear that he was looking past you.

Taking notice of his fascination, the shopkeeper’s husband went to him. He then began explaining that they had purchased the mounted head on the wall from a passing tradesman. As always, the stranger remained quiet. But suddenly, he actually glanced at you for the first time.

“Demon eyes.” You thought. “He is no mortal. Of that, there is no doubt.”

“That will be twenty Fenning.” The shopkeeper announced. “And do not dawdle, girl. I have other customers.”

You sighed. Apparently, the cost of herbs had gone up significantly since the last time. Placing all you had upon the counter, you eyed the woman.

“I……………I only have eight. However, look at these gloves I’m wearing. I made them myself. Pure cowhide with rabbit fur lining. Surely, they are worth the remainder.”

“Does this look like the trade-in post?” She snapped. “Either you have the coin, or you don’t.”

With tense jaw, you asked that she remove two satchels of Pearl Moss since it was the most expensive. But unexpectedly, the nicer of the two strangers walked over. After asking the woman to wait a moment, he looked at your hands.

“I know a lady that would really fancy those.” He said with a smile that reached his eyes. “I’m Jaskier, by the way. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

Though your day had been nothing but terrible, you couldn’t help giving a smile in return.

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking his hand.

You then removed the smartly made gloves and set them down. When you asked if he was truly serious, Jaskier nodded firmly. After placing twenty Fenning on the counter, he took possession of his wares.

“I now have my gloves, and you, have your coin,”

Utterly beside yourself, you couldn’t help thanking him several times. Truly, he was an answer to your silent prayers. Such a show of kindness not only lifted your spirits but gave you a more optimistic outlook. While the moody shopkeeper finished tying the bundle of herbs with twine, Jaskier informed you he was a Bard.

A renowned and much sought after one, at that.

“You?” You exclaimed in astonishment.

“What’s the matter? Do I not look the part?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that you appear……..………you know….”

“Appear what?”

“To be quite honest. From your style of dress, I swore you were a Lord or something of the sort.”

From nearby, his companion made an odd grunt.

“Pay him no mind.” Jaskier said, looking in his direction. “He isn’t known for his manners.”

“If you take your time, I will leave you.” The cloaked man replied, ignoring the insult.

Though his tone of voice was cold, there was something within it that held some humanity. Perhaps, the Bard was his charge.

“Is that man your Hired Sword?” You asked.

The question sent Jaskier into a fit of laughter. However, his companion was not amused. In fact, he appeared meaner than he had been already. Leaving your side, Jaskier went to the shopkeeper’s husband and pointed to the waterskins.

It was then the woman finally handed you the satchel of herbs. 

As you walked to the middle of the shop, you realized it was now raining quite hard. Not wanting to get your purchase wet, you opened your coat and pushed the satchels into the inner breast pocket. After closing the flap, you were buttoning your coat when the apples caught your eye.

Though you had eight Fenning left, thanks to Jaskier, you had not desire to spend it. So, as the storeowners busied themselves with their wealthier patrons, you began slipping a few into your coat. But as you finished taking the sixth and last one, the woman swiftly rushed over.

“Thief!” She shrieked, grabbing hold of your coat immediately. “I knew you were trouble from the moment you set foot in here!”

Though you were caught, you wished to turn the items over yourself. However, the shopkeeper refused to let go.

“I’m no thief!” You protested. “At least…………………….not really.”

“Not a thief, she says! Well, we shall see about that.” The woman mocked, holding your coat more firmly.

She then began shaking the fabric until the apples started coming lose. One by one, they soon dropped to the ground at your feet.

“Hmm. The girl is either an apple tree, or a thief.” Geralt remarked.

He then picked up the bags of corn and oats and hoisted them over his shoulder. As he walked to the exit of the shop, Jaskier stared at you and the shopkeeper. From his expression, you could see he felt your humiliation.

Thus, you averted your gaze.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled as he departed into the busy street. Though it was now raining, he made no attempt to seek cover. “Geralt! We cannot leave that poor girl to that woman. She will likely report her to the Sentries.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, the laws against theft in Stillwell are harsher than in most townships. And she appears quite sweet……….……………. but desperate.”

Geralt scoffed as he kept to his path.

Nevertheless, Jaskier refused to give in. As he tried to keep pace, he confessed that he felt compelled to help. And if he had to convince the storekeeper and her husband alone, he would return to the shop.

“Then, go.” Geralt replied. “But remember, I will not wait long.” 

“I swear, Madame, it was not my intention to take from you.” You said apologetically. “I had a great deal of coin a short time ago. However, I was robbed of it, and the rest of possessions. It’s the only reason I didn’t wish to spend the little I have left. That’s the truth of the matter.”

“Do not give me your sad tales.” The shopkeeper snapped. “When the Sentinels come, you may tell it to them, if you like.”

Just as you were about to drop to your knees and beg her mercy, Jaskier returned. With damp hair, he walked over and looked the woman straight in the eye.

“Allow me to pay for the value of the apples, plus a little extra for compensation.” He said. “Surely, that ought to be enough to allow the girl to leave peaceably.”

It sounded like a reasonable solution. But to his astonishment, the woman refused. After stating she was tired of your “type”, she added that you had to be an example.

“I cannot have every thieving liar thinking my shop is a free market. She must be turned over to the Sentinels.”

“Madame, have mercy.” You implored. “I cannot be away from my father for days on end. He is a cripple. If he is left alone, he could fall ill or even worse.”

Jaskier’s expression went soft. The revelation only made him more determined to be of help. But no matter how much he argued your case, his words fell on deaf ears.

“Natasja.” The shopkeepers husband said as he approached. “The girl seems genuine. Besides, she didn’t take anything of true worth. Only food. It’s obvious that she meant no real harm.”

Despite his attempt to defuse the situation, his wife proved hardheaded. With a hand still grasping your coat, she informed both he and Jaskier that she had already sent one of the shop assistants to fetch a Sentinel.

And thus, the four of you waited.

Whilst the time passed, the shopkeeper’s husband stated he would not give a statement. In fact, he wanted no parts of anything should the lawmen ask anything of him. Still, his wife didn’t seem moved.

“Bastien, if that is what you wish, so be it. But I will make sure this girl is made an example of. I will not become a target for every poverty-stricken bastard.”

“How dare you! I’m no bastard!” You seethed. “My father is an honorable man. He was a King’s Guard in Narin.”

“Ah, King Jethofius.” Jaskier mused with an impressed expression. “It’s said that he only commissions the most-skilled.”

“Most-skilled.” The shopkeeper repeated with a chuckle. “You keep listening to her tales.”

Angered by her flippant attitude, you countered that you spoke the truth. Not just about your father, but about being robbed earlier in the day. But none of that mattered. Because it wasn’t long before two well-armored Sentinels entered the shop.

“That is her.” The young worker said, pointing you out.

With annoyed expressions, the two men walked over. After politely acknowledging everyone, they looked you over.

“Your boy tells us that you caught the thief in the act.” The taller of the Sentinels said. “What did she take.”

“Apples.” Jaskier interacted. “Simple, ordinary apples. Hardly anything to take you from your patrol.”

The shopkeeper cut him a mean glare, however, she added that he was correct. You had stolen apples.

“But I would hardly say it is trivial. A thief, is a thief at the end of the day.”

“Do you wish to have her locked away until you can petition the Justice?”

When the shopkeeper nodded, her husband grumbled. He truly disliked how his wife had forgotten their struggles. There had been times even they came close to stealing. And though they never did so, he understood your plight.

“Let me state this now. I will not participate.” He announced.

Somewhat taken aback, the Sentinels looked between the husband and wife. One then grabbed you by the arm.

“Alright, it’s time to go.”

“Please! There must be something I can do to make things right.” You protested as you looked at the shopkeeper. “I am needed at home!”

“You should have thought about that before you went about nicking things.” The man countered. “Now either you move your legs, or I’ll resort to brute force.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Geralt said in a calm tone.

When you all looked towards the entrance, he was stood there with an annoyed expression. In an unhurried pace, he made his way over. He then scowled at poor Jaskier, who could do nothing but shrug in response.

“Stranger, this is none of your affair.” One of the Sentinels cautioned. “It’s best you keep moving before you are charged with interfering with the law.”

“The girl is my servant.” Geralt said, ignoring everything he had said. He then tossed the shopkeeper’s husband a small black pouch. “That’s nine Denars. Twenty times the value of what she took.”

Angered by the meddling, the shopkeeper declared she wanted justice, not coin. She then informed the Sentinels that Geralt did not speak truthfully. You had come to the shop alone, thus, you were not a servant of either man. But as she continued raving, her husband suddenly placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“Do not take offense, love…” He began. ‘But for once, shut your mouth.”

Ever the jovial one, Jaskier burst into gleeful laughter.

This caused one of the Sentinels to chuckle as well. However, things quickly subsided when Geralt shot both men a severe look. Approaching the lawmen, the shopkeeper’s husband first apologized for wasting their time. He then assured them that the coin was more than enough to resolve the matter.

“It appears there is nothing for you to do here. But gratitudes, all the same.”  He added.

Obviously, the shopkeeper was livid. But as she followed the Sentinels, they ignored her pleas to return.

“So, we may take our leave?” Geralt asked of the husband.

“Aye.” He replied. “The little Lass is free to go.”

“I cannot stay.” You protested as you entered the Blue Raven Tavern with Jaskier and Geralt. “I must begin my journey home!”

As expected, it the place was quite busy due to the storm. As you were guided to a table, the patrons appeared to be mostly traveling merchants, migrants and Mercenaries. All of them in search of a temporary place of shelter until the weather improved.

“Sit.” Geralt gruffly commanded.

Naturally, his tone didn’t sit well with you.

“My Lord, I am no dog!” You protested despite doing as asked. “I’m quite grateful for your show of kindness. And as promised, I intend to repay the coin you parted with. But I must ask that you speak to me like I am a person.”

After staring for a moment, Geralt simply looked away. Frustrated by his odd behavior, you gave Jaskier your attention. Unfortunately, he was too busy staring at the ample breasts of the Tavern maid.

“Look here! Do you intend to ogle me all night or is there something you are in need of?”

“Oh, I am in need of many things.” Jaskier replied cheekily. “But let us start off with a pitcher of Black Mead. And perhaps a platter of rose-honey rolls with fresh churned butter on the side.”

The woman gave a flirtatious smirk before turning to leave. As she walked, Jaskier stared at her equally ample backside.

“You have coin for that?” Geralt asked.

“No, but you do.”

When he took note of your smile, Jaskier stated he had spent most of his coin repairing his lute. He then lifted it for you to see. From the way he spoke of it, you could tell the instrument held great sentimental value.

“It’s simply exquisite.” You remarked. “It makes my Uncle’s own look plain by comparison.”

“Do you play?” Jaskier asked with great excitement.

Reluctantly, you confessed that you did. Adding that music was one of the main sources of entertainment in your household. When you stated that you could play most string instruments, Geralt closed his eyes. Seeing the two of you bonding over your music, made him fear either of you playing a song.

Because after the exploits they had encountered in the last township, he had no desire to hear noise.

“Would you play something?” Jaskier asked, passing you his lute.

You were flattered that he would entrust you with his prized possession. However, you hesitated. Though you knew many songs, you played according to mood. And with how you were feeling, a sorrowful melody was likely to come through.

“Go on, Lass!” A man drunken man shouted from a nearby table. “Help me drown out my talkative companions.”

Carefully, you positioned the lute, finding that your fingers eased about the instrument comfortably. With a deep breath, your eyes shut so you could drown the noise around you. From the pluck of the first note, a sense of peace washed over you. 

You were no longer in a dimly lit, packed Tavern. But rather, sat by the scenic lake nearest your cottage. 

As you played, the commotion in the establishment began to die down. From weary traveler, to the most imposing of Hired Sword, everyone was soon listening to your haunting melody. As for Jaskier, he rested his cheek in hand as he watched.

It wasn’t often he came across someone like you. Not only were you amiable, but you now proved to be quite talented. After setting down the rolls and pitcher of Black Mead, the Tavern Maid observed a while before getting to her work.

She too seemed to prefer music over the usual cursing and threats to take fights outdoors.

When you struck the last chord, you were astounded by the eruption of cheers and mugs hitting the tabletops. Your father and Uncle always complimented your playing. However, you had assumed they only flattered you because they were family.

With a bashful expression, you passed the lute back to Jaskier.

“Y/N, you are quite fascinating.” He remarked. “Not only can you sew beautifully, but you have the makings of a Bard.”

“Though I hardly deserve such praise, I will accept it graciously.”

“Good. Now, how about you start eating while I pour us some mead.”

Naturally, you were still quite famished; however, you didn’t want to make a pig of yourself. So instead of taking several rolls, you took one and began spreading the butter. As you were doing so, you realized Geralt staring at you once again.

“My Lord, is there something on my face?”

Though he appeared irritated by your very voice, he replied that you were bleeding. How he could know such a thing was a mystery. Because, at present time, you were sat across from both he and Jaskier.

When you touched the back of your head, and looked at your palm, Geralt was proven correct. Apparently, the wound had begun to seep.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaimed. “That’s why that fabric is about your head. All this while, I thought it was some new trend.”

“If only.” You replied with a weak smile. “An old man applied ointment to my head before tying this. I only wish I got his name before he disappeared.”

As you removed the kerchief and folded it, Geralt reached inside his cloak. He then produced a small vial and held it towards you.

“Here. Drink this.”

“My Lord, I will do no such thing.” You replied. “First, tell me what it is. Even better, tell me how you knew I was bleeding.”

Despite your words, he said nothing more. Instead, Geralt studied you as if you were an inanimate object.

“My Lord…………”

“For the last time, I am no Lord.”

“Oh, so you CAN put more than five words together.” You jested. “At any rate, since you refuse to tell me how to best address you, I shall keep using the title. My father says it’s best to err on a high position.

Refusing to be drawn into banter, Geralt set the vial on the table.

He then took hold of his mug and got to his feet. When Jaskier asked where he was off to, he nodded towards the door. Despite the storm, it appeared that he was in no mood for company or conversation. As Geralt departed the table, you watched with great curiosity.

“How did he know I was bleeding?” You asked, your gaze following his dominating figure out the Tavern. “Is he part Demon?”

“Demon? Why do you assume such a thing?”

“For one thing, his hair. That alone tells me that he is no mere mortal. But also, his eyes. They seem…………well…………sinister.”

Though he tried, Jaskier burst into laughter. Indeed, he had called Geralt many things whenever they fought. But sinister, was not one of them. Between chuckles, he assured you that his brooding companion was no Demon. In fact, he was one of the few people that stood between such creatures and the innocents.

But from your expression, it appeared you weren’t convinced.

“Why do I get the feeling that you distrust, Geralt?”

“It’s not that, my Lord.” You replied. “However, where I’m from, magic and magical being are not trusted. People are put to death for simply buying magical items.”

“But Stillwell seems quite open-minded.”

“I did not grow up here. I spent most of my life in Narin.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your father was King’s Guard there.” Jaskier remarked, recalling your past conversation. “Tell me, how did you come to reside here?”

Though you stated it was a long tale, he shrugged. Lifting his mug, he reminded you that there was nothing but time. After all, the storm didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Since they had been so kind, you figured it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Thus, you quickly decided to oblige. 

So, as Geralt sat in the enclosed stables, drinking his mead beside Roach and Moss, you shared your life with Jaskier.

“Apple thief.” Geralt exclaimed.

He the grabbed hold of Moss’s bit before rolling his eyes.

Though you had insisted on riding, it was apparent that you were too fatigued. Not only had you fallen asleep twice, but you kept saying things that made little sense. Typically, such a thing wouldn’t be cause for alarm. Especially since your Uncle’s steed followed your companions at a good pace. However, you had also nearly fallen both times.

And since a broken neck would do no one any good, Geralt was becoming irate.

“Y/N, you slept again.” Jaskier remarked as he brought his hired mare alongside. “Either you ride with one of us, or risk having an even worse headwound.”

You yawned as you looked about the forest. Though you had given proper directions, your mind was hazy.

“Are you certain we’re headed the right way?” You asked as you stifled another yawn.

“We exited the Western gate and veered left when we passed the guard tower.” Jaskier replied. “So, by now, we are quite deep in the Highland Grove.”

Though he repeated your directions perfectly, you still had quite the time processing your surroundings. Everything felt somewhat………off.

“Perhaps it’s best if you rode with me the rest of the way.” Jaskier suggested. “Otherwise, you are likely to get hurt.”

You wavered, however, you soon brought Moss to a halt. As Geralt held the bit, you dismounted and stretched a bit more. Suddenly, his neck snapped to the left. With a tense expression, the brooding warrior peered into the darkness.

Evidently, he was observing something neither you nor Jaskier could see.

“Don’t move.” Geralt commanded.

In one swift motion, he dismounted before pressing a finger to his lips. Unsheathing his sword, he shoved you behind his person. It was then the cold of the night finally hit you. As you held your coat about you more firmly, you tensed your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

“There are five of you.” Geralt declared into the darkness. “If you wish to live, keep to your business.”

“And whom are you, stranger?” A voice replied in amusement. “From what I see, you appear a foreigner. Therefore, unless you are a patsy of the Magistrate or Town Council, your word holds no weight here.”

You expected Geralt to say something more. But instead, he simply grumbled before looking over his shoulder. After advising you to stay where you were, he began moving in the direction of the voice.

Without warning, the distinct sound of an arrow broke the silence.

It was enough to make you and Jaskier draw anxious breath. But had you blinked; you would have missed what came next. Though it had been headed right for Geralt, he deflected the arrow as if swatting a fly. In fact, not even his expression changed as he pressed forward.

Stopping at the tree line, he suddenly extended his free hand.

At first you were confused. What Geralt hoped to accomplish, you did not know. However, it became apparent that he was casting. Rapidly, an odd blue light formed in his palm. When satisfied with the scope of it, he released the energy into the darkness.

And it must have hit its intended target. Because what came next was a cacophony of agonizing screams and curses. When all the noise died down, three furious men came bounding out from the tree line.

“Damn abomination! You killed my mates with your sorcery!” A man wielding two blades shouted.

In the entirety of your life, you had never witnessed such a battle up close. Sure, your father and Uncle had protected the family on many occasions. However, nothing to the degree of what was before you.

“Keep behind me, Y/N.” Jaskier whispered as he kept hold of the steeds. “If anyone wanders close, I will protect you.”

You wanted to ask what weapon he intended to use. Because from observation, the only thing he could wield was his lute. Nevertheless, since it was the thought the mattered, you remained silent. As things got bloodier, you avoided the carnage by looking to the ground.

Mercifully, the violent commotion began to fade. Before long, it was replaced by the song of crickets once more. When you looked at Geralt, he hardly looked like he had just fought off three men. Not only was he breathing normally, he was calmly wiping the blood from his sword.

“You used magic on them.” You said, peeking out from behind Jaskier.

Ignoring you completely, Geralt commanded you to continue the journey on the Bard’s steed. Incensed at being snubbed, you stared at him.

“Though you are no mortal, my Lord, I must say this. You simply do not understand how things work in Stillwell.” You said as he tied a rope to Moss’s reigns. “You cannot simply execute people here. The law states that one must give opportunity for surrender.”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that it?” You asked. “You just killed five people and all you can do is grunt.”

“Apple thief, get going.”

“Apple thief? I have a name, you know!”

As if you had said nothing at all, Geralt pointed to Jaskier who was stood by his hired steed. Sensing the awkward tension between you, the poor Bard gave a meek wave.

“Alright!” You fumed. “If you will not address anything I have said, at least answer this. What are you, exactly?”

After giving an exasperated sigh, Geralt grabbed hold of you. With little effort, he then set you upon the saddle by force. Hiding a smirk, Jaskier mounted the steed, taking his place behind you. As he took hold of the reigns, you perceived the Bard was on the verge of laughter.

“The absolute nerve of him!” You seethed. “That man is not only a Demon, but a rude one, at that.”

“You know something? Despite being his closest friend, I cannot argue with the last bit.”

Jaskier then snapped the reigns as your little convoy continued down the road.

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[liunaticfringe]

NOTE: Google translation (LiunaticFringe highlighting)

Lucy Liu: Root Freedom | Jia Ren Cover

2020 opened a new decade.

Idols of the eighties,

Some are still active on the screen and the Internet.

Some have disappeared,

Some are also attracting much attention,

Some have fallen asleep.

We finally arrived at the "future" in science fiction,

Discover with Liu Yuling the familiar sense of time in this "future."

(Gucci lace dress

Tiffany T1 Wide Ring in 18K Rose Gold

Tiffany T1 Narrow Bracelet with Diamonds in 18K Rose Gold

Tiffany T1 Wide Bangle in 18K Rose Gold with Diamonds

Tiffany T1 Narrow Bracelet in 18K Rose Gold

Tiffany T1 Narrow Ring in 18K Rose Gold

Tiffany T1 Narrow Diamond Ring in 18K Rose Gold

Tiffany T1 Wide Ring in 18K Rose Gold with Diamonds

Tiffany T1 Wide Bangle in 18K Rose Gold with Diamonds)

At 11:30 am, in the city of Brooklyn, New York, a 19th-century warehouse remodeled art community and creative studio, Liu Yuling, full of silver hair, wore large retro glasses and her body turned sideways. She was holding an eleven-inch old-fashioned black-and-white TV in her right hand, and the antenna stood like unruly hair, and the screen was flashing monotonous white noise lines, just in the same direction as her black-and-white striped tie. The prototype of this shape is Andy Warhol.

After the April issue of "Jia Ren" covers the retro theme of the 1980s, Liu Yuling proposed that it should be more interesting to play. She worked with the creative team to select several fashion icons that have a profound impact on her personally and the world-David Bowie, Prince, BoyGeorge, Debbie Harry , Madonna and Andy Warhol, re-enact their classic looks with seasonal fashion. The last idol is Liu Yuling herself. Two sets of fashions are the retro punk style of the 1980s and the modern minimalist department. The New Wave movement of the 1980s has become an old dream, and Liu Yuling is pushing the new wave of this era.

This original look from Andy Warhol comes from the cable television show Andy Warhol Online that he launched in the 1980s. He was addicted to TV and said, "I love TV, and I'm super jealous of people who can have their own programs on TV. I also want to have my own program."

In 1979, he spent $ 40,000 on a premium broadcast-quality camera, and hired professional television producers to start broadcasting his own programs on Manhattan Cable at his own expense. The television dream continued throughout his eighties, until 1987, when he suddenly died of a myocardial infarction.

Artists who do not want to be on TV are not good actors. Like Andy, Liu Yuling has a strong curiosity in all aspects of the world and has made breakthroughs in different fields. At the age of fifteen, she wants to be an artist. She creates collages, walks through the streets of New York with a big camera, and transfers from the Department of Communication at New York University to study Asian language and culture at the University of Michigan. During college, she was spotted by scouts in the New York subway, she took commercial shots of stationery stores, and began to take on guest roles in some episodes. Until the last year of college, she was selected by the student troupe to star in "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland", after which she began to fully realize her actor dream.

She said to herself that she had never thought of giving up since the moment she made her decision. On the Hollywood screen, there are few faces of Chinese-American actors. It is even more difficult for her petite and ordinary person to want to break out of her own world. On her first debut, she lived in two small jobs and lived in a small apartment rented by her brother, rushing to deliver resumes, auditions, and appointments. Looking back, Liu Yuling said: "I am brave and simple. I think pure is a good thing because it means freedom. I just want to learn and do what I like to do."

At the age of 29, Liu Yuling had debuted for eight years. She first appeared on the screen as a hostess in "Flying Over Beverly Hills" (1991), and later as a female student in the CBS drama "Pearl", her popularity has gradually increased. And what really made her fame was that she played the Chinese lawyer Wu Ling in the American drama `` Sweet Girl '', a clever, cool, decisive and slightly weird character that won the hearts of the audience with a strong aura. It also subverts the stereotype of Chinese Americans in American film and television works.

It was originally a temporary arrangement with only eight episodes, but screenwriter David Kelly changed her role to a resident character at the request of the audience. The incident sparked widespread debate in the American community about the Asian impression, and she was nominated for the Primetime Emmy Award.

Every character since then, whether it is the fiercely popular special agent in "Pili Jiaowa", the elegant and cold killer in "Kill Bill", or the female version of "Watson" in "Holmes: Basic Deduction", or In the exaggerated socialite of the woman, Liu Yuling is always climbing over various invisible glass ceilings, transcending the gulf of identity, gender, and age, and challenging seemingly impossible roles.

To this day, Liu Yuling still devotes herself to life and work with the courage and simplicity of her debut. For her, every day is a new beginning, and it is worth investing all your energy in learning, reading, and experience. Create new selves in the process of meeting different people.

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According to current buzzwords, Liu Yuling is an out-of-the-box slash youth, acting, hosting, director, producer, game dubbing, artistic creation, United Nations Children's Fund ambassador, she is fully committed to every job. At the age of forty-six, she made the bravest decision in her life and helped her become a self-selected single mother through third-party transplantation for in vitro fertilization. For Liu Yuling, there is no difference in work. As long as you start, you must take it seriously.

The itinerary of the day of shooting was dense from morning to night. At eight in the morning, she personally sent her four-year-old son to school, and then rushed to the shooting scene in Brooklyn. The filming continued from 9:30 a.m. to the evening. Seven sets of looks were made, and the staff took turns to change the work. And Liu Yuling maintains a high degree of concentration throughout the process, injecting soul into each character, sometimes it is David Bowie, who is male and female, sometimes sexy Madonna, sometimes a neutral and feminine George boy, sometimes an eclectic security. Di Warhol.

Instead of playing them, she gave them part of herself. She used her body and soul to travel through time and space and talk to them. In the end, she returned to herself. She didn't want to conceal the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes, all the wind and frost was smoothed by the eyes of understanding the world.

At 11.40 in the evening, half of the staff had already left the field, and Liu Yuling was finally able to change into her original clothes and sit at the dressing table to remove makeup. Suddenly remembered something, she turned back and said aloud to the rest of the staff: "Thank you."

There were many people at the beginning, and she always stayed to the last.

She has been an actor since she was nineteen years old, and still loves acting, and her role has become increasingly full. In the long course of her life, she kept adding new roles for herself.

She appeared in the "Kung Fu Panda" series as a beautiful woman snake, and then accepted a series of game voice acting work, including "High Speed ​​Skiing", "Thunderbolt: Thrilling Game" and "Rogue Blood". Liu Yuling said that in real life, she doesn't play games often, but she also devotes herself when playing. She is always trying new things, and sound performances allow her to delve into different ways of acting. She is also passionate about the director. In 2010, she started crying and started shooting a short film "Mena" in Mumbai, based on the Indian girl Mena who was trafficked as a sex slave at the age of eleven, and then directed the sixth season of "Holmes: Basic Deduction", and The eighth episode of Deadly Woman.

In the play, she likes the replacement of different identities. The same is true in real life. As an actor, she is located at one end of the lens to pass the role to the world. The director's work allowed her to stand on the other side of the camera, and through communication and collaboration, the entire team understood the picture she wanted to convey and made it a reality.

She said: "If I don’t have enthusiasm, I won't do it. And if I love it, I will go all out every day with my eyes open. My personality is so strong that I can't spend my life in peace, Everything is necessary to go all out, whether it is to be a chef, an actor, or even in a garment factory, I must inject all the energy and do my best. "She did the work of the garment factory. Yuling Liu, who grew up in Queens, New York, is a second-generation immigrant. Originally a senior intellectual's parents immigrated to the United States in the 1960s and found it difficult to enter the mainstream American society. In order to subsidize households, she was doing two jobs at the same time: serving plates and working in a garment factory. Since then, she has been working in the performing arts circle to support the actor's dream.

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Liu Yuling grew up in a harsh family with almost militarized management. Parents are struggling for a living, and they don't have much time for spiritual communication except eating and sleeping. It wasn't until her father had cancer that she had the opportunity to talk to him more about how Chinese culture and immigration experience shaped him and connected his family. Now, she takes the sick mother back to live with her and her son, and examines everything that went through her childhood, as if she knew each other again.

Son Rockwell grew up in New York and has lived in the spotlight since he was a child. However, Liu Yuling still hoped that he would grow up in a low-key environment and teach him the meaning of work and his mission as a person: "I want him to realize that material is not the most important thing. I grew up in a material-deficient environment. I don’t think life is lacking. Understanding the value of hard work, being a humble person, and loving what you do is an unparalleled gift. I think the most exciting thing is to do what you do with love. He may want to be a doctor, an artist, it doesn't matter what he wants to do. I just hope that he can pursue his dreams bravely and fearlessly. "

As the second generation of immigrants, Liu Yuling felt the empathy of the late actress Huang Liushuang in the difficult immigration life and the pressure of ethnic minorities. On February 8, 1960, the name of Huang Liushuang, (Anna May Wong) who had died, appeared on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, becoming the first Chinese-American actress to stay here. Sixty years later, Liu Yuling left the second star next to her name, becoming the second Chinese actress to leave her name here.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Huang Liushuang was born in Chinatown, Los Angeles, and his father made a living from the laundry. With a Chinese face, she was racially discriminated from an early age.After entering Hollywood, she could only play the Asians under the stereotype-prostitutes, Mongolian slaves, often dying by death, gorgeous but weak, usually attached to high-ranking White male. In the end of his life, Huang Liushuang couldn't get rid of the Chinese face of Hollywood, nor could he get the approval of the Chinese. The number of films gradually decreased, and eventually he died of heart disease due to excessive drinking.

During the star awarding ceremony, Liu Yuling said: "How lucky I am to have seniors like Huang Liushuang and Bruce Lee to lay the ground for Chinese actors. If my life's work can bridge the gap, the role of stereotypes played in Huang Liushuang is now mainstream in Asian I will be very happy to build a bridge in the role of the movie industry. I am also part of this change. "

Speaking of Huang Liushuang, Liu Yuling was quite moved: "Huang Liushuang has never realized the dream of a real actor. I think she died because of a broken heart. She has enthusiasm but cannot share. She plays various stereotyped roles, but cannot find To the true self. That must be very unbearable. "

Where is her true self? Liu Yuling recalled her childhood. The family did not bring her nourishment of art and culture. The Chinese family struggling with the food and clothing line did not have time to take the children to appreciate and feel the beauty. And she was looking for beauty on the cement street, between the dirt. In the cracks in the street, there are ants, and under the soil, there are snail shells. There is not much space in reinforced concrete New York, but she will spend hours squatting on the ground, staring at the cracks in the ground, trying to find the mysteries of the universe from them.

The mystery of the universe was opened to her further after she transferred from New York University to Michigan.

At the University of Michigan, Liu Yuling chose to major in Asian language and culture. She hopes to leave New York and study her subjects in a quieter city and learn about her native culture: "I want to go deeper into Chinese and study Asian philosophy, which will help me better understand myself and my parents At that time, I just connected the dots, stepped back, and saw the complete picture for the first time in my life.

I feel like I've been holding my breath for a long time, and finally I can breathe out. And when you exhale, you finally see your place in the world, their place in the world, and the relationship between the world and you. It's as if the lens is zoomed out and you start to see everything as it was. With this perspective, you can finally accept yourself and others emotionally, really enjoy getting along with others, and know what you really want. "

Participating in the summer project of Beijing Normal University gave her the opportunity to come to China for the first time. Liu Yuling recalled that it was an incredible journey of self-exploration: "For the first time in my life, I looked at the people around me, all of whom had the same skin color and the same eyes. I finally knew where I came from. Mountains and rivers I feel like part of them. I finally found a sense of cultural belonging. Everything has a new meaning. "

If the streets and lanes brought Liu Yuling's first contact with contemporary China, then the trip to the Temple of Heaven made it possible for her to visually connect with this ancient civilization. Numbers, colors, shapes, and every detail are closely linked to the cosmic view of heaven and man.

The prayer hall has four large columns, which symbolize the four seasons of the year; the twelve gold pillars in the middle layer, which symbolize the twelve months of the year; the twelve pillars in the outer layer, which means twelve hours a day; Implied twenty-four solar terms. Long history contains wisdom connected with nature. Liu Yuling closed her eyes and clearly described what she saw and said at the time: "We cannot change the flow of the four seasons, the ebb and flow. We are part of nature and the universe. All the content learned in these books is presented in front of me in an intuitive image. It's like reading a classic for the first time, and you can't believe that you met it for the first time in your life. And for centuries, it has been waiting for you in this world. "

Rumi's poems give her the same feeling: "They are so simple, yet so timeless. About friendship, about love, about death. People have not yet invented language, but only communicated through stones and symbols. When you were young, you thought that the world started with you and finally you, and gradually grew, and you realized that you are only a small component. The more you see, the more you can break through your small cage and become Humility and harmony. "

"At this moment, I was tied to the cane of love; at this moment, I gave up thinking about the consequences ... I destroyed my thoughts and eliminated my anxiety. What else do I need? Blood flows in my veins. I am life itself. "— Rumi

"I didn't start to be a mother at that time. I would work all night in the studio. Art immerses me and forgets the passage of time. I thought it was only an hour, but it was dawn. I remember I had a chocolate Colored Labrador, it will sit in the studio with me, and then go back to sleep in the bedroom. Sometimes it will come back, sigh in front of me, and then get down. Then I will You know, I've forgotten time again. It's as if the whole night suddenly disappeared. "

She closed her eyes and seemed to catch the most accurate sentence from the air: "Time is condensed."

Liu Yuling's career as an artist began almost simultaneously with her career as an actor. Since 1993, she has begun her creative work. She has been involved in various art media, photography, abstract expression style oil painting, ink painting, sketching, screen printing, and collages and installations.

Her love for art made her choose Andy Warhol as one of the tribute idols for this shoot. Liu Yuling appreciates Andy's talent in bringing commercial art to the extreme, and also appreciates his solitary appreciation. She also likes Willem de Kooning, Georgia O 'Keeffe, whose influence can be seen in her Chunga oil painting series. The images of these works are from the Spring Palace in the Ukiyo-e paintings of the 17th century. They use bold and vivid colors to show the wanton display of love.

Liu Yuling's Totem series explores the human spine, and she embroiders human bones with threads on bare linen. Liu Yuling said that if she returns to college, she may choose to continue to explore medicine, understand the structure of the body and organs, and how they operate precisely. For her, the spine represents the basic characteristics of human nature, and the different textures in each work symbolize the deep interpretation of different emotions. The spine is also like a node in life. In the perception of pain, emotions are always closely connected with the body.

In 2019, he presented the double exhibition "Unhomed Belonging" with artist Rao Shubi at the National Gallery of Singapore, covering works from various media. The highlight of this artist's career made her realize the inherent connection in her creative medium. As early as 2008, she has started using ready-made objects for her creations, and the newly presented Lost and Found series further extends the method of misappropriating ready-made objects. Liu Yuling collected overprinted and discarded book covers at a printing factory in Italy, rebind them into books, cut the inside pages, and embedded them in everyday life, such as shells, rocks, and soft drinks Tins, paper coffee cups, metal accessories.

Liu Yuling said: "These lost things once belonged to them and were abandoned after they were used. In these pages, they found a new home." The 195 bound books presented at the exhibition contain the items The stories of different places, different cities, and different people, and at this time they are converged by the cause of fate, Liu Yuling found a new home for some of them. At the time of sale, ten books will be recommended to the collector as a whole group. Liu Yuling will choose the content of the book based on the people in the collection, so the final "library" will have an internal connection with the new home.

If different works reflect different aspects of Liu Yuling's character, then the identity of the artist and the actor are also her different aspects. She cannot make a choice: "I am an actor and an artist." The two often meet, but they have some differences. Different: "Creation requires privacy and absolute focus, while actors need to work with the lens and collaboration."

What is the purpose of this kind of identity? Liu Yuling explores exactly on each road. Over the age of fifty, Liu Yuling has gone through a lot of life and death. The Seventy Two series is inspired by the Hebrew alphabetic sequence of 72 God's names. The Velocity series focuses on individual choices in collective events. After the 9/11 terrorist attack, she took a picture of the New York City skyline at Battery Park, the site of the attack, and became the background for this group of works. "People who jump off the ninety-ninth floor know that they are not alive. But they still hold their hands and jump out of the window. Maybe they believe that as long as they hold their hands firmly, they can find another one after death. road."

On top of the collage photos are found items found on the ruins, as well as poems she wrote: "I will search all corners, as if rain covered every street in the world. I will find you."

At twelve in the evening, Liu Yuling finally stepped out of the shooting scene. There is no rain tonight in New York, but there is a salty tide brought by the East River. In endless time, among countless stars, what is she looking for? Thought that what is lost will always find belonging at the other end.

#Lucy Liu #marie claire china #April 2020 #Author / He Yu #interview #in depth #China

[mksc77]

Kate: Sharon’s sister

Maggie: Sharon’s niece

Emmett: Emily’s husband

Carter: Sharon’s nephew’s son (~20 months old)

Claire: Sharon’s niece’s daughter (~4)

Lauren: Sharon’s niece

A little 4th of July ficlet. Just a reminder, you can blacklist the tag #mikuscfanfic (or just unfollow me) if you don’t like my writing. There’s no need to send me rude anonymous asks telling me how much I suck—I’m well aware that a lot of you don’t like my writing, but there are some who seem to enjoy it, so this is for them 😀❤️

Sharon felt a tiny hand tugging at the hem of her t-shirt. She knew without looking down that it was Marie. “Hold on, baby girl, let Gammy finish this pasta salad.” Sharon added Italian dressing and parmesan cheese to the large bowl of angel hair pasta, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and green peppers in front of her and tossed it until the ingredients were well-mixed. After doing the same to the smaller bowl beside it, minus the onions and peppers for Rusty, Ricky, and a couple of her nieces, she put both bowls in the refrigerator and picked Marie up. The ten-month-old was adorable in her red, white, and blue striped swimsuit, and the scent of sunscreen was evident from her soft skin.

Emily held her arms out for the baby. “I’ll take her, Mom. Go get dressed.”

Sharon handed the baby over and went to her and Andy’s room to put on her own swimsuit. Andy was already dressed and was rubbing sunscreen into his face. He handed her the tube of sunscreen when he saw her coming in. “Mind getting my back?”

“Sure.” Sharon squeezed some of the lotion into her palm and softly ran her hands over his back. She changed into her swimsuit as Andy put a t-shirt on and added a couple of clean beach towels to their bag. Once she’d applied as much sunscreen as she could by herself, Andy took the tube from her to put it on her back. He moved her hair to one side and rubbed the lotion into her skin between her neck and the top of her swimsuit. With that taken care of, she pulled her cover-up over her head and slipped into a pair of sandals. “It would’ve been fine for you to go play golf with the others, you know.”

Andy shrugged. “I heard some damsels in distress needed a captain.”

Sharon gave him a disbelieving look. “Yeah. I’ll remember that when we come back, and I have to dock the boat for you.”

“I can do it...You just, uh, do it faster,” Andy mumbled.

Sharon snorted. “Uh-huh. There’s some chipped paint on the side of the boat that suggests otherwise.”

A little while later, they were cruising down the lake. It wasn’t even eighty degrees yet, and the warm sunshine felt wonderful. The pleasant warmth and low hum of the boat was about to put Sharon to sleep, and she looked down at Marie in her lap and saw that it had already done the same to her.

“Here, Mom, I’ll go sit in the back with her in the shade,” Emily said.

Andy held his arms out for her. “You can give her to me.”

Sharon gently transferred Marie to Andy’s arms and moved back toward the front of the boat.

By lunchtime, Claire and Carter were getting restless, and Marie had just woken up and wasn’t too happy, either, so they went back to the house. As they neared the dock, Andy got up so Sharon could sit down. “This is so embarrassing,” Andy muttered.

“Hey. You have good aim where it counts,” Sharon whispered into his ear before she sat down. She didn’t have to look over at him to know he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

After a quick lunch, they went back down to the dock and got on floats in the lake. Sharon wondered what Marie would think of the cold water, but she splashed around in her little float and didn’t start getting fussy until it was time for a nap. Emily lazily reached over to the dock to tap her phone and see what time it was. “I’m going to take her up to the house and put her down—“

“Wait, I’ll take her,” Sharon and Andy volunteered at the same time. Sharon had been about to doze off on her float, herself, but she scrambled up the ladder on the side of the dock before Andy could react.

Emily gave Marie a look. “Sounds like Gammy and Papa are looking for excuses to take a nap.” She got Marie out of her float and lifted her up to Sharon. “Either way, Mommy’s not complaining...Hey, Mom, will you hand me a beer?”

“Make that two, please,” Maggie added from her float.

“Ugh, I hate you guys,” Lauren moaned, as she was five months pregnant.

Sharon tossed each of them a bottle and wrapped a towel around Marie. Andy got out of the water and placed Sharon’s cover-up in her bag. “I’ll bring your things.”

Sharon shook her head. “I’m coming right back when Marie wakes up, I’ll just leave them here.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just, uh, come help you with her,” Andy sputtered, fooling no one.

“Awww, night-night, Andy,” Maggie called from the water.

“Sweet dreams,” Emily added.

When they got up to the house, Sharon gave Marie to Andy. “Mind running her a bath while I shower off and change? Just put some soap in with the running water and rinse the lake water off of her.”

“Sure.” Barely a few seconds had passed before Andy felt sudden warmth against him in contrast to the cold water from the baby’s swimsuit. “Ewww, I think she just peed on me! How is that possible?”

Sharon giggled. “It’s those swim diapers, they don’t really hold pee.”

Andy looked down at Marie. “You couldn’t have done that just a few seconds ago when Gammy had you? I think you planned that.”

Sharon shrugged. “I’ve taught her well.”

Several minutes later, Sharon was showered off and had changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt. Andy came in with Marie, wearing just a diaper and rubbing her eyes. Sharon held her hands out to her. “Come here, sweet girl.” She took her from Andy, switched on the fan beside their bed, and climbed under the covers, tired herself from the sunshine and being in the lake. Not to mention from her brother finding it necessary to run the vacuum at 6:00 that morning. She tucked the baby in beside her and patted her back until she started to drift off.

Andy stepped out of his swimsuit and draped it over the rack in their bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and I’m right behind you.”

In the five minutes it took for Andy to take a shower and put on a clean pair of boxers, Sharon and Marie were both passed out. Sharon usually at least stirred a little bit if she hadn’t been sleeping long when the mattress dipped from Andy getting in bed, but she didn’t move. The whirring of the fan and the baby curled into her side had put her in a coma, and he wasn’t far from it, either.

Sharon woke up when Marie started cooing and moving around beside her. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and saw that they’d been sleeping for almost two hours. “Well, hey, precious. Somebody took a long nap!” Marie grinned and pointed at Andy. He was snoring, and his mouth was hanging open. “We’ll let Papa sleep for a few more minutes. You know he has to have his beauty rest, and I know Mimi has plenty of popsicles in the freezer.” Sharon got up and lifted Marie into her arms.

Andy had started to come to when Sharon and Marie were waking up, and by the time they were out of bed, he was completely awake. He put on a dry swimsuit and t-shirt and found them in the kitchen.

With Andy watching the baby, Sharon changed into another swimsuit and got a swim diaper and dry swimsuit for Marie. She hated having to reapply sunscreen, but she hated the thought of being sunburned or having lake water and sunscreen in her bed even more. Once they were ready again, Sharon and Andy took Marie back down to the dock. Marie bounced against Andy’s hip and pointed at the water, wanting to get back in, so Andy put her back in her float and lowered her into the water as Emily maneuvered her float closer to the dock to get her. Rusty was approaching the dock on the jet ski, and the first thing Sharon noticed was that he was missing a necessary object over his t-shirt. “Russell Thomas Beck, where is your life vest?” She demanded.

“Relax, Mom, I didn’t even get out of the cove without it. My t-shirt made me forget about it, but I realized I wasn’t wearing one and came back.”

Sharon gave him a disapproving look as she tossed him a life vest from a chest on the dock. “Do not let it happen again, young man.” Once he’d driven off, she poked through the cooler for one of the peach-flavored beers Emmett had introduced her to. Most flavored beers were too sweet, but this kind was perfect for her taste.

Sharon left her opened beer on the dock long enough to dive into the lake and get situated on a float. Andy played music from Sharon’s phone before jumping in, himself. He wasn’t a huge fan of the cold water, but it was too clear and beautiful to resist on a sunny day. He couldn’t sit still for very long, either. He swam around for a few minutes before holding on to the back of Sharon’s float as they drifted around the water. Sharon sipped her beer, enjoying the warm sunshine and singing along to the music.

“You’re sweet as a honeybee,

But like a honeybee stings,

You’ve gone and left my heart in pain

All you left is our favorite song,

The one we danced to all night long

It used to bring sweet memories

Of a tender love that used to be

Now it’s the same old song,

But with a different meaning

Since you’ve been gone...”

A couple of hours later, it was almost dinnertime, so Sharon and Andy pulled themselves out of the water to go back to the house for showers and to help get dinner ready. In the true fashion of twenty/thirty-something year old children, the others were staying in the water until “the grown-ups” had dinner ready.

Once everyone had eaten and the kitchen was clean, the entire group went down to the dock and climbed the stairs to the upper deck. The fireworks still wouldn’t start for another hour, but the weather was too pleasant not to sit outside as the sun started its descent behind the mountains and enjoy the twilight. The fireworks would take place not far from the dock, and boats of people who had to venture from their houses to see them were already starting to come out. Sharon and Andy hadn’t been lying in the hammock for two seconds before a song playing from the speaker had Andy standing up and pulling her out of the hammock to dance.

When you snap your finger, or wink your eye,

I come runnin’ to you

I’m tied to your apron strings

And there’s nothin’ that I can do

Sugar pie honey bunch

I’m weaker than a man should be

I can’t help myself

I’m a fool in love, you see

Kate wrinkled her nose. “Are they always that nauseating?”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Try living with them. They’ll test your gag reflex on a daily basis...Mine still works, in case anyone was wondering.”

The fireworks started a little while later, and Sharon nestled into Andy’s shoulder in the hammock as the colorful lights illuminated the sky. Carter was screaming, and it was the first year that Claire wasn’t screaming. Marie didn’t know what to think, alternating from clapping and laughing to crying to just looking bewildered. Fireworks were loud enough, but the mountains made them echo even more loudly, and trying to put the kids to bed would’ve been pointless.

“Andy, stop,” Sharon hissed when he started kissing her. “My dad is right there!”

“Sharon, please. You have two kids, and you’re over sixty. I think he’s accepted the fact that you kiss your husband. No one’s even paying attention to us.”

“I’d still rather not do it right in front of him—hmmm.” Andy had found the sensitive spot on her neck that never failed to shut her right up before moving back to her lips. This went on intermittently until the fireworks were over, and neither noticed that the noise and lights had stopped until someone, Ricky or Rusty, if they had to guess, heaved a disgusted sigh and dropped a blanket on top of them, enclosing them in darkness. The distraction of the fireworks and the darkness of nightfall had provided a sense of false security. Sharon felt a brief pang of...guilt, or something, hell, she didn’t know. But she also knew they’d get the hell over it. Who could blame her for not being able to keep her hands off of Andy, anyway?

#major crimes #major crimes fanfiction #shandy #mikuscfanfic #shandygrandparenting

[tomasorban]

THE ZODIAC: SCORPIO THE SCORPION

Date of Rulership: 23rd October-21st November; Polarity: Negative, female; Quality: Fixed; Ruling planet: Mars/Pluto; Element: Water; Body part: Reproductive organs; Colour: Deep red; Gemstone: Opal; Metal:Steel or iron.

Attempting to make sense out of the eighth sign of the zodiac can sometimes mimic the insurmountable task of trying to answer a cosmological question as to why the universe came into being. If we could equate Scorpio with a physical object, it would be an iceberg. Why, you ask? Well everyone finds it difficult to relax and be uninhibited around an iceberg, especially when you’re on a ship and there’s simply no way of telling what lies beneath the surface of the water, how big it is, and if it will steadfast melt or simply tear a slit into your vessel and sink you. What you see or what you think you see isn’t always what you get, and that tenet is truer of Scorpio than it is for any other sign.

In equating the iceberg with the archetype of Scorpio, the part resting above the water would be the desolate, unapproachable, and cryptic exterior that doesn’t quite lend itself to close investigation for fear of judgement and ridicule, and the larger part beneath the water is the smouldering chamber of power-packed emotions and unconscious images that are left to proliferate there unchecked and are rarely, if ever, vented. Just as the iceberg severs itself from a main body and floats into territories foreign to its own nature, so too does Scorpio show the side of itself that is frequently incompatible with social rituals and codes, alienating it from the joys and benefits of social intercourse. Moreover, ice is a solid, concrete form of water and Scorpio’s watery but fixed nature indicates that it is a sign that can quickly become fixated with things. Scalding is usually associated with heat, though conditions of severe cold such as those facilitated by ice can generate analogous effects. Hence just as heat and cold can scald the skin so too can Scorpio’s behavioural extremes, brooding intensity, and fiery emotional outbursts leave people with psychic burns and scars that won’t easily be forgotten or forgiven. Scorpio, then, is the iceberg that drifts through the cosmic ocean, a block of ice that remains acutely aware of its own temporal existence, vulnerability, and composition while at the same time emanating a snow-white radioactive plume around it that alerts others to proceed with caution, or better still, stay away altogether.

The soul of a Scorpio man or woman is extremely delicate, soft, and pliable. Think of it in terms of a piece of twenty-four carat gold that can easily be bent, twisted, broken in half, amalgamated with other metals, and fashioned into material things that do not accurately express the spiritual worth of ‘gold’. Being the intuitive and proud gem that it is, Scorpio knows this and inherently feels that it’s only viable recourse is to raise gargantuan walls and set cunning traps in the immediate vicinity around itself as to thwart any foreign invasion which seeks to dismantle its bubbling motivations and innermost desires. The type and nature of defences employed by the Scorpion to ensure this never comes to pass varies from person to person, however one that exists in the arsenal of all is a belligerent, angry, and red-coloured force field that will not allow another cheap laughs at its own expense. In the mind of a Scorpio, any deliberate attempt to humiliate, threated, scold, or tease, vilify and slander either itself or a fellow conscious projection of the universe violates the most vital of moral codes and deserves shameless retaliation.

As we have thus far discerned, Scorpio possesses an innate sensitivity that renders it receptive to even the slightest changes in external temperatures and environment. Thus it seems only natural that the sign might become unnecessarily fixated on trying to control and manipulate everything around it for the sake of lessening its anxieties and maintaining harmony of its inner empire in the manner that a chess player strategically positions pawns, knights, bishops, and rooks to defend an inner sanctuary epitomized by the royal couple. Like the latter, souls incarnating under the stars of Scorpio enjoy playing games in which they can draw like-minded others into their private little worlds, identify their psychic dowry and talents as well as the positive and negative elementary characteristics of their personality, and henceforward advise them on what course of action and karmic life choices they should make. Scorpio enjoys proposing unsolicited makeovers that they believe will emphasize another’s finest characteristics, inside and out, and can be quite intrusive in prying for information that it perceives to be of utmost importance to the wellbeing of its significant other, its loved ones, and itself. Being the control freak that it is, Scorpios are aversed to and become apprehensive around obstinate and autonomous persons that will steer clear of Scorpionic manipulation, especially when the individual concerned is their own partner. Like its close cousin Cancer, Scorpio doesn’t like to be confronted about the way in which it operates or the manner in which it chooses to live its life and will often go to any length to protect its emotional security and hold onto the few momentous others that comprise its cryptic and often unintelligible chess game.

“One thing you’ll really like about me,” says Scorpio, “is the fact that I’m very understanding. I understand the conflict of interests between the outer and inner landscape that can cause one to feel like a social misfit, a reject, a loser, or simply undesired and unwanted. I don’t judge people who are different from the conforming majority; on the contrary, I embrace and honour them. I’m also really good at fixing things. I simply love to pick at something until it’s either fixed or it vanishes from the face of the earth. I’m also intensely self-aware. I’m aware of gestures, subtle energies, actions, and implications that often move in the opposite direction to that of the spoken word and might have their own story to tell. Really, I haven’t got a problem in diving down into the abyssal depths of the human soul, perusing an inner darkness that contains the carnal impulses, compulsions, instincts, and latent desires within you, and then re-emerging into the conscious light to reveal how your outer landscape will inevitably undergo a metamorphosis for the worse if you don’t confront it.

Life is about experiencing this world, but it is also about learning how to die and resurrect throughout the course of one’s lifetime in order to expand the psychic and spiritual fields of our collective consciousness. Alchemically speaking, we might say it involves a threefold cycle: necrosis, the corruption of death; leucosis, rebirth through intuition; and iosis, the conciliation of conscious and unconscious elements that leads to the much desired ruby-red state of illumination. We must all come to terms with the insecurities, hostilities, and boiling obstructions within the depths of our being that set this cycle into motion, as well as find a way of reconciling these qualities with our conscious personalities in order to attain closure. Why, you ask? Well in my search for the truth I have acquired a hunch that there are other dimensions of existence beyond our physical one, and so the plight of each human being should be to purge oneself of murky, carnal qualities that go far in inhibiting the attainment of illumination, inner purity, freedom and most importantly, unalloyed love. I, for one, come into the world karmically prepared for the emotional tribulations life will inevitably throw at me, and I know of no other sign that experiences such cheerful bliss, soaring through the boundless skies like a carefree eagle, when these obstacles are finally overcome.

Like every animal on this planet, I enjoy having sex and will often engage it purely to release tension and other psychic steam that has been collecting in the confines of my subconscious for weeks if not months. Hence, anyone lucky enough to tango with me will share in the providential gift of a mind-blowing and positively uplifting experience. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ll use sex as a method of exploitation, but one should never take me for easy, and I’m not particularly interested in dispassionate and no-strings-attached casual sex. For me, sex is extremely sacred and must involve love and intimacy between two people who care for one another otherwise the act becomes pointless and futile.”

There are two symbols associated with the zodiacal sign of Scorpio. The animal totem that represents the first of these really does correspond to the distribution of stars in the sign’s constellation, and it appears that all ancient cultures from the Chaldeans, Babylonians, and Indians to the Egyptians, Hellenes, and Romans were in unanimous agreement about this. The most significant stellar body in this vivid star group was Antares, a bright eye otherwise known as the Heart of the Scorpion and inextricably linked with the war god Mars. In ancient Egyptian cosmogony, Scorpio was ascribed prominence as the constellation of Seth, the primordial god of destruction, irruption, anger and chaos. In a book by archaeoastronomer Jane Sellers entitled The Death of Gods in Ancient Egypt, astronomy, archaeological evidence, and mythography come together to reveal that the eighty-year battle between the gods Horus and Seth had a precessional basis, the question being which constellation of the equinoxes, Scorpius (Seth) or Taurus (Horus), would gain the ascendency after Orion (Osiris) had been obliterated from the night skies of the northern hemisphere. Given the fervent preoccupation of our ancient ancestors with celestial events, the Predynastic Egyptians would have envisioned a harmonious balance in the annual circuit of the sun when Taurus (Horus) marked the spring equinox and Scorpio (Seth) marked the autumnal equinox. This was something of a Golden Age, a locus classicus when the v-shaped bovine head of Taurus manifested by the Hyades rose heliacally over the eastern horizon at the vernal point just before sunrise and the arachnid-like form of fiery Scorpio reappeared there exactly six months afterward to herald the autumnal equinox. According to Sellers, this Golden Age would have occurred between c. 6900-4867bce before the relentless yet subtle effect of the precessional cycle knocked it all out of allignment.    

The second, an astrological shorthand for the zodiacal sign utilized by astrologers in the creation of astrological charts, looks like the small letter “m” save for the fact that the third leg terminates with an upturned arrow. Many astrologers and symbologists have attempted to anatomically define the contemporary sigil, though it appears that none of the suggestions are wholly convincing. Hypotheses linking the modern shorthand symbol to the male reproductive organs, a severed scorpion tail, the tail of the Christian devil, the tail of a mythical dragon, and a coiled serpent have all been proposed. This particular symbol has undergone many changes through time. In Egypt, four demotic tablets were uncovered that recorded days and months in which the five visible planets entered the zodiacal signs over a twenty-eight year period. These revealed that the shorthand symbol used in ancient Egypt was a snake. Alternatively, medieval treatises show an actual scorpion.

In the northern hemisphere Scorpio appears at a time when the formative forces of Mother Nature are at their weakest, but it is also a time of turbulent change when fermentation has commenced and the scales are about to tip towards the proliferation of life energy. Evolving around the rudimentary myth relating the passions of the beneficent Osiris, ancient Egyptian belief ascertained that the latter suffered death and descent into the netherworld beneath the stars of the vigilant Scorpion. In Peri Isidos kai Osiridos, we learn that Osiris’s penis was the only body part that wasn’t found his wife, the mourning Isis, who solved the enigma of how she might conceive a son posthumously by equipping him with one hewn from a piece of wood. The myth’s preoccupation with the reproductive organs, sexuality, and resurrection fits in well with Scorpio as a spiritual archetype intensely preoccupied with the cosmic cycle of death, transformation, and rebirth.      

The Scorpion exudes an energy which works in indirect and often cryptic ways. Consequentially, this sign is one of the most misunderstood in the zodiac and will more often than not encounter hostile adversities and reactions from those that cannot comprehend the benevolent intent indigenous to the Scorpion’s nature. Having said that souls incarnating under this sign possess a psychic dowry that enables them to handle and cope with such situations, for one can be sure that the universe will never impose a blueprint onto something or someone unless it is sure that that something or someone can survive experiences and consequences that might be simulated as a result. When looking at the zodiacal image and the symbols as a whole, one intuitively feels that the poisonous stinger and sharp arrow imply sharp qualities and sentiments that cut like glass such as adroitness, cleverness, and smooth-tongued straightforwardness. They also recalls the Stygian depths of Scorpio’s psyche, a raw, windswept, and multifarious breeding ground of passion, charm, astuteness, creativity, intensity, and both sexual and romantic love. These fiery traits can be attributed to the immanence of Plutonian energy in the sign, a prominent planetary position formerly held by Mars.      

#zodiac #astrology #psychology #astropsychology #consciousness

[andrewrosswatson1987]

REVISIT: JUDAS PRIEST HAD BRITISH STEEL THIS DAY IN 1980

Birmingham’s heavy metallers, Judas Priest, released their sixth album, British Steel, which came out today (April 14) in 1980, released via label, Columbia. British Steel a landmark album for the band, the first release for them in the Eighties and right at the start of that particular decade, too.  Very much taking forward the sound presented in 1978’s Killing Machine (renamed Hell Bent For Leather in the US, due to San Diego’s 1979 Cleveland Elementary School shooting).  Vocalist, Rob Halford, thinks some of the sonic influence came from touring with AC/DC.  It was also their first album with former Trapeze drummer, Dave Holland. British Steel was recorded at Tittenhurst Park, home of former The Beatles drummer, Ringo Starr.  This in the days before digital sampling, deploying the use of milk bottles, billiard cues and trays of cutlery.  It was also released at a discount price, £3.99, music press advertising as “British Steal”. This album’s artwork is both iconic and slightly controversial.  The hand holding that razor blade like some kind of suicidal, slitting wrists reference. Probably a bit much to say it forecast the collapse of manufacturing in Priest’s native Midlands due to the newly incumbent Margaret Thatcher. During the thirtieth anniversary of British Steel, they played it in its entirety for the first time.  Only all the tracks in Rocka Rolla (1974) and Defenders Of The Faith (1984) have been played live. These two weren’t played in the original running order or during the same tour, though. British Steel sold over a million copies worldwide. Singles for this album were “Living After Midnight”, “Breaking The Law” and “United”. First track, “Breaking The Law”, cuts in with much metallic swagger. Streetwise street tough anthem.  The wailing guitar for the hook so metallic and hardened.  “So much for the golden future I can’t even start/I’ve had every promise broken, there’s anger in my heart” suiting something the anthem for kids hanging out on the corner.  The middle section stretches out for, “You don’t know what it’s like”.  Then that glorious riff counting itself back in amidst much drama and fanfare.   “Rapid Fire” is as it says, “Pounding the world like a battering ram/Forging the furnace for the final grand slam”.  “Hammering anvils straining muscle and might/Shattering blows crashing browbeating fright” just so metal and ahead of the current then curve, and metaphors true to the likes of toolmaking in the Midlands.  The guitar then cuts in about halfway and you know the current intensity will be topped.  Toppled in sizeable fashion.  The lead work like the kind you’d hear within thrash metal a few years later, as if a little example already of its unique footprint on modern music.  Climatic Halford crescendo at the end.  Then fading out with blacksmith hammering. “Metal Gods” pulses moodily.  Drums emphatic yet simple.  “Fearing for our lives/Reaped by robot’s scythes” suitably precedes the hook, monastery sombreness yet almost robotic, too.  Brainwashed by hordes of Satanic headbangers.  Every parent’s nightmare all around the Western world.  “Better be the slaves/To their wicked ways” almost emphasising this feel.  The swish of seeming metal cleavers reigns down upon soon to be severed heads. Then comes the dreaded “Grinder”. This one grooves, cock of the walk guitar yet hardened and without a sense of fun.  Just brutality.  “Got no use for routine, I shiver at the thought/Open skies are my scene, that’s why I won’t get caught” like striking out on your own.  “Grinder, looking for meat/Grinder, wants you to eat” like a touch of the sadist, craving for flesh.  “I’ve held my license, it came with birth/For self-reliance on this earth” like evil from day one, subverted before even leaving the womb.  Fantastic in, “As the mighty eagle, I need room to breathe” like soaring into a red, hellish sunset.   “United” hits of drum and seeming anthemic clap.  The bass really bites in this one, at one with the scything guitar.  It’s not all bludgeoning, though.  The chorus is like an impassioned call to arms, sang with much feeling.  “United, we never shall fall…we stand one and all” reaffirming this.  The vocal refrain, just at one with hitting drum lets the words come right through you. Then round the clock loving in “Living After Midnight”.  It comes in with that legendary drum before swaggering in with that awesome guitar and, “Living after midnight, rockin’ to the dawn/Lovin’ ‘til the morning, then I’m gone, I’m gone”.  The pre-chorus of, “I come alive in the neon light/That’s when I make my moves right” so cool and sly. It’s about late night skirmishes before the advent of Viagra, apparently:  “Lovin’ ‘til the mornin’”. Midway is that triumphant guitar enough to fell thick trees.  “I’m getting hotter by the hour, loaded, loaded; I set my sights and then home in/The joint starts flying when I begin” so smutty. “Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise” wades in with the screech of guitar.  The bass chugs as the drum grooves in that tight pocket, guitar ringing in and out heroically.  “I grow sick and tired of the same old lies/Might look a little young, so what’s wrong, you don’t have to be old to be wise” is belted with such power, high and yet, at its core, low slung and from the gut. The lead guitar solo that unfolds is dirty and passionate, full of the rigour of youth.  How the rhythm section holds it down whilst constant, intermittent guitar wailing is how to set the mood in the sphere of metal. “The Rage” is the bass centric track of the album, a reggae tinged one at that. The metallic menace does surface eventually, though.  “From a fireball we came crossed sea and mountain” a good stab at matching that menace in the lyrical sense, metal gods from a planet afar.  The lead guitar wails like a wildcat, asserting its authority with feral aggression.  The reggae section then returns only to be blown away, again.  That wildcat so full of raw power it would claw you off your perch. Finale, “Steeler”, is fast and thrashy. Chord ringing out as the rhythm is set to perpetual intensity.  “Carpet-baggers bluff and strike/Kiss of Judas, spiderlike” a curious and clever lyric.  Tom work on the drums then clamours to resound in your head.  By midway you’re on a spinning carousel in danger of spinning into space.  A subsequent, late middle section conspires for the inner workings, cogs and wheels, to come undone and travel the solar system.  It then clatters with such clarity you wonder which planet you’ve landed on. Highlights on this album are “Breaking The Law”, “Rapid Fire”, “Metal Gods”, “Grinder”, “United”, “Living After Midnight”, “Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise” and “Steeler”.  These populate all beginning, middle and end, only omitting one track. However, “The Rage” wasn’t anywhere near bad. A bassist will probably give the album a perfect score, but that brief reggae aspect of the track, novel as it is, jars slightly not fitting in too well. This Judas Priest album is, if you were to choose one and only one of their albums, given the fairest chance of coming out top consistently.  All the more, in terms of classics, this isn’t exactly cutting a lone figure when considering their classics laden discography.  It was the dawn of a new era, the Eighties, for the band, and the slight change in sound enabled as if to start from anew.  Judas Priest’s British Steel can be bought on iTunes, here.

#Judas Priest #Rocka Rolla #Killing Machine #Hell Bent For Leather #British Steel #Defenders Of The Faith #Rob Halford #Dave Holland #Trapeze #ACDC #AC DC #AC/DC #The Beatles #Ringo Starr #Margaret Thatcher

[clancystallings04]

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[warynerd]

Suptober 2021 Wrap-up

[Event Details] [Tag ◌ Blog, Tumblr] [AO3 Collection]

This was my first event in a long time (years, shh) and I had fun with it! Enjoy reading any of these. (Or just glancing through the titles and ‘nah bro’ing them. All good.)

Day 1: Harvest

Ooh let it drip down the sides, destiel, e, 100w, Canon AU, Dean still hates witches

Day 2: No Vacancy

don't break a sweat, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Cas is better at lying, who knew

Day 3: Rainbows

get yourself a sign, destiel, g, 100w, Canon AU, Cas books their room

Day 4: Secrets

secret garden's not so secret anymore, destiel, e, 100w, Canon AU, Cas has a question OK?

Day 5: Nostalgia

just like his dad, destiel, g, 100w, Canon AU, Dean doesn't want to make the same mistakes

Day 6: Cemetery Boys

it's hard to find love, but I’m looking at you, destiel, t, 100w, AU, Dean has an admirer

Day 7: Young at Heart

age ain't nothin' but a number, destiel, t, 100w, AU, Dean likes Cas buff, but lean is good too

Day 8: Leather & Lace

leather black and eyes of blue, destiel, e, 100w, AU, Dean gets ready for the show

Day 9: Body Mods

enough to leave me shaking, destiel, e, 100w, Cas is in for a treat

Day 10: Crossover

today we are cancelling the apocalypse our holiday, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, They'd like to go home now

Day 11: Pizza Delivery

calling dr. love, destiel, t, 100w, AU, The doctor is available for consultations.

Day 12: Hellbound

if you were church, I'd get on my knees, destiel, m, 100w, AU, Cas makes for an excellent distraction

Day 13: Ladies’ Night

good for him, destiel, t, 100w, AU, A Karen's gonna Karen

Day 14: Stardust

you must be my lucky star, gen + pre-destiel, g, 100w, AU, He just wanted to connect with his daughter.

Day 15: Blue Skies & Apple Pies

visions are seldom all they seem, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Distorted Reality, Living in a dream is better than reality

Day 16: Delightful D-bags

welcome to the house, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Jack wants a normal experience.

Day 17: Last Supper

got to let it show, destiel, t, 100w, AU, If his tongue won't taste, maybe it'll speak

Day 18: Inferno

I wanna make you sweat, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, It does take a lot to make Cas sweat

Day 19: Eighty-sixed

I never thought that it would happen like this, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Isn't it the worst when your favourite character dies?

Day 20: Library Hours

shh, quiet boys get rewarded, destiel, e, 100w, Canon AU, Dean decides research can be fun

Day 21: ‘Missing him was dark gray, all alone’ – Taylor Swift ‘Red’

it comes in waves, destiel, t, 100w, Canon, A moment of freedom from the burden of love

Day 22: Birthday

mishaps and mayhem, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Dean's not cleaning the mess

Day 23: Undone

wash the sheets in the morning, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Sam's not happy about the living arrangements for the case

Day 24: Movie Character Mischief

don't tell me your considering it, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Propositions purposed by a pretentious person

Day 25: Sidekick

you lift bro?, destiel, t, 100w, AU - Superheroes, They're in a bit of a pickle

Day 26: Happy Homemaker

shake and bake, destiel, m, 100w, AU, Role-playing, Keep things fresh in an old fashion way

Day 27: Darkest Hour

I'm dancing with myself, destiel, m, 100w, Canon AU (Endverse), Dean has something to say; Cas wants to bang a gong.

Day 28: Monster Mash

trick or treat, smell my feet, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, Jack has a request, Dean has questions.

Day 29: Chrome Chassis

didn't need to know that, thanks, destiel, t, 100w, Canon AU, If only his never told him, this would be so much easier

Day 30: Feather

psychedelic kaleidoscope, destiel, 100w, g, Canon AU, Dean's at a loss

Day 31: Masquerade

to have you to myself, destiel, g, 100w, Royalty AU, Something is in the air tonight.

#writing list

[hallythelantern-blog]

Marichat May 2018: Chapter 2

Prompt: Can I Pick, Princess?

Chapter 1

Fanfiction AO3 Wattpad

Chapter 2: Secrets

Marinette collapsed onto her bed. She dug her hands into her face, letting her fingers pull down the skin directly below her eyes.

"What have I done, Tikki! I can't believe that I gave Chat Noir an invitation to stay here– possibly forever!" she exclaimed. "I don't regret doing it, but... what if I accidentally find out who he is? What if he sees you with me? What if he somehow finds out that I'm Ladybug? UGH I HAVE DUG MYSELF A GRAVE THAT I WILL NEVER GET OUT OF." Marinette wiggled her body so that her face was now facing the pillow. She hit her face with the pillow multiple times for extra measure.

"Calm down, Marinette." Tikki said. "It's not like Chat Noir is going to barge in without permission. The only problem is whether you two can keep conversations without giving too much away."

"Which we will NEVER be able to do," Marinette groaned. "Did you just see me? I almost gave myself away. And that was Day 0."

"It's okay!" Tikki said. "I've seen this multiple times throughout my years. Most of them were happy endings. And besides, it's okay if the secret does leak."

"It is?" Marinette looked up from her pillow.

"Yeah. I mean, as long as you two can keep it a secret to the rest of the world, it's okay"

"Right, but isn't keeping two people's secrets is a lot harder than one?"

"Yes, but it's not the end of the world."

"Okay," Marinette sighed of relief and broke into a full-out grin. She sat up. "We can do this. We can work this out."

"Yes, you can!" Tikki smiled. "But Marinette, can I ask something?"

"What is it?"

"Why did you invite Chat Noir in the first place?"

Marinette smiled. "Well Tikki, I can't turn down a stray kitty."

The bell rang. Marinette and the rest of her class headed for the door while Ms. Bustier tried to squeeze in a few last words.

"Don't forget, we'll be knitting scarves on Friday! Make sure to bring your own yarn!"

As Marinette and her best friend Alya exited the gates, Alya laughed.

"Why a scarf?"

"I don't know," Marinette said. "I guess it's just for the practice?"

"It's almost summer. How is a scarf going to be of any use? It would be of much better use if we could knit ourselves a pair of swimsuits." Alya said.

"But Alya, that's not that works," Marinette giggled.

"Yeah, true. It's a shame." They walked until an idea popped into Alya's head, which was not too long. "Hey, I know. Maybe you can give another scarf to Adrien so that this time he will know it was from you!"

Marinette blushed. "Maybe." That sounded like a great idea.

Someone touched her shoulder.

"Hey Marinette," Adrien called from behind her.

"AHH!" Marinette threw her hands up and rotated one hundred and eighty degrees exactly. "A.. Adrien!? Wh..what brings you here? Is.. is there something you need?"

"Yes, actually," his right hand was on his head. He rubbed it back and forth as he blushed. Marinette thought that it was cute. "It's actually quite embarrassing, but I don't know how to knit. So I've actually never been to yarn stores and don't know how to pick one for the project. I was hoping you would help me?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" Marinette smiled, but slightly confused. "But I don't think that not being able to knit is embarrassing."

"Well, when you're the son of a fashion tycoon.." Adrien rubbed his head even more.

"Well, I don't think that that's a problem." Marinette said. "Who your parents are don't define you or what you do."

Alya and Adrien laughed at the same time.

"What?" she asked with a worried look on her face. "Did I say something wrong?"

"What's so funny?" Marinette looked at Alya, curious.

Alya was still pushing back her tears when she pushed Marinette aside. "Girl, you know you said that to Adrien Agreste, right?"

"Oh..."

"Um.. Adrien?" Marinette said. Adrien was still laughing, although he looked as if he was trying his best to suppress his tears. "If I have in any way offended you –"

"No, no. No you haven't at all." Adrien burst into laughter again. Alya laughed along. Marinette joined, but she was unsure about what they were really laughing about.

They stood like that for a minute.

"You're right. It doesn't define me!" Adrien smiled. "So, does today or tomorrow work for you?"

"Today works great!"

"Great, I'll meet you at 4! Thanks, Marinette!" Adrien said, and ran towards the limo that was waiting for him.

"Oh my gosh, Alya!" Marinette squealed. "I'm going shopping with Adrien!" She jumped up and down in happiness.

They met each other at the front of the school at 3:58. Since the store was not that far away, they decided that they should walk. Marinette wondered where Adrien's bodyguard was.

"So, how is the physics project coming along for you?" Adrien asked as they walked.

"Great! Not that you are great. No, what am I saying! Of course you are great! You are greatness itself!" Marinette chuckled nervously. "I mean, it's going well. How about you?"

"Umm.. thanks? It's going great here, too." Adrien smiled. "I'm almost done typing the conclusion."

"Wow, you're already that far ahead?" Marinette was shocked. "I'm only quarter done. It is a really hard project after all. You're amazing."

Adrien chuckled. "Thanks, maybe I can help you some time? Physics is my best subject after all."

If this was what heaven felt like, she wanted more of it.

"But I actually think you're the one who's amazing, Marinette."

"Me?" Marinette asked, covering her heart with her two hands.

Adrien nodded. "It's not common for a girl our age to be so talented in so many things." Marinette felt heaven again. It was wonderful. "From designing clothes to album covers to video games! On top of that, you save so many people."

With that last sentence, all the colors on Marinette's face vanished and were replaced with white. "What do you mean?"

Adrien had a worried look on his face. "Are you okay? You seem very ill. Maybe I should call Mrs. Dupain-Cheng," he said, rummaging through his bag for his phone.

"No! No! I'm okay." Marinette stopped him by holding his arm. "Hehe." Marinette smiled a smile too big. "So, you were talking about?" Marinette said all of this very fast and high pitched. Adrien had a confused look on his face.

"I mean, you always stand up to Chloe for other people, and you always help other people when they need it."

Marinette sighed, letting her hands come back to her sides. So he didn't know that she was Ladybug. It felt like the weight of the skies had been lifted from her shoulders.

She beamed. "Well, in that regard, you're far more awesome than I am. I mean, your face is plastered over all of the walls of Paris! Not that I care but," Marinette began digging her own grave.

Adrien smiled brightly at first, but it got darker as he said every word. "Thanks, but I don't do modeling for myself. I'm not that brave."

"You don't? Then... do you do it for your father?" Marinette asked.

"Yup." Adrien smiled as he looked down at his shoe.

He had that look too. That look of being used to constant disappointment.

It broke Marinette's heart that the two boys she was the around the most were also the ones who had the deepest wounds.

"Well," Marinette began. "Maybe you'll grow to like working in the fashion industry! And even if you don't," her voice softened. "You can always do something else."

Adrien looked at her. Those eyes, they looked familiar but where had he seen them?

He smiled. "Thanks, Marinette."

They walked in silence for a minute.

"So," Adrien asked, "What do you think about Chat Noir?"

Marinette's eyes widened. "Chat Noir? Why do you ask?" Was there something he knew?! Did he know that Chat Noir had came to her house yesterday? And possibly was coming today? If he did, then she was screwed. She didn't want to lose her chances with Adrien because he saw her with Chat Noir! And also, their identities were at stake. She didn't want to have to lie to Adrien, but she knew that it was going to be inevitable if he found out.

"I think he's a great superhero. A little bit too on the flirty side, but he's very reliable."

"So.. no change?" Adrien asked.

"Um.. I also think he's also very sensitive and has a good heart." Why was she answering this in the first place? "But, but of course!" Marinette's voice grew higher in pitch, "This is only from me looking at clips of him in Ladyblog and news sources. So I might be wrong." She chuckled nervously.

She could practically hear Tikki's groan right now. There hadn't been much interviews from Ladybug and Chat Noir recently. Anyone could have figured her bluff.

Adrien smiled with one of his brows higher than the other.

"B,but why do you ask?" Marinette asked nervously. She had to change the topic to something. What could she change it to? Maybe puppies would do the trick. I mean, who doesn't like puppies? Or maybe pigeons. Pigeons are great.

Adrien put his hands on Marinette's shoulders. "So, about that yarn!" Adrien started, his voice too loud.

"uh..uhh.. uhuh!" all Marinette could do was stay standing.

The doors of the store opened automatically as soon as they stepped on the welcome carpet.

"Let's go," Marinette said, taking the lead. The two had been walking side by side in the streets, but now Adrien trailed along behind her and took in every corner of the store with wonder.

"Wow, it's like a whole new world in here," he said.

Marinette giggled. "I remember when it was my first time being in here. It was magical and intimidating at the same time," she said with nostalgia. She had been eight.

"Hopefully, you take out the intimidating part today," Adrien winked. Marinette giggled.

"I'll see what I can do."

They finally reached where they had set out for. Marinette and Adrien both gasped for air, and Adrien smiled.

Marinette frowned. She still wanted to be around with Adrien more, even if it was a millisecond. She had asked him if she could get supplies for her other projects first, which he had agreed to. And so she led him down all the aisles but where she knew the yarns they were looking for were, saving it for the last. They were mostly successful, except for that rendez-vous Marinette and Adrien had as a result of getting lost in a room called "Employees only."

Adrien had said that he had Chinese at 5:30, and it was 5:00 right now. It wasn't too bad. Actually, far from it.

"Well," Adrien said, looking at the aisle as if it was their final destination. "I guess the store is no longer intimidating." Adrien laughed.

"Yeah," Marinette laughed along. Oh, it's going to end soon, she thought. Without even her noticing, her laughter had ceased. Her head turned down, her shoulders hunched. She fiddled with her fingers anxiously.

Adrien noticed. "What's wrong? Are you sick?" He asked, worried.

"Oh no! Thanks Adrien, it's okay," she said.

Adrien frowned. "You sure?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I? Nothing's wrong." Marinette said, the voice becoming lower and softer in pitch as she reached the word wrong. She tried to smile, but it didn't enter her eyes. Within seconds, her happy facade dropped and she was sighing.

Oh no. What do I do? What do I do? Adrien thought. Emilie had always taught him the value of being nice to everyone and not making anyone unhappy, but she had never told Adrien what to do when a friend was like that! He wanted to cheer her up, but what did he have to do? He had a great time with her. He didn't want to see her sad. But he didn't even know why Marinette was sighing. It also didn't seem like she was going to tell her.

Out of desperation, he picked up a red yarn and gave it to her.

Marinette looked at him with a curious expression on her face. "What-"

"Take it. I'll pay for it. It's the least I can do as a thanks." Adrien said. "And besides," he cupped one hand in front of his mouth, as if it was a secret. "I wanted to pick yours," he winked.

My, why was everything so hot? Her head, this store, and Adrien..

If Marinette was water, she was certainly boiling now. And it was about to overflow.

"Tha..Thanks!" She snatched the yarn and smiled awkwardly. "In return, let me pick yours," she said.

"Of course, princess." Had she just heard correctly? Maybe she needed to get some hearing aids. Age of fourteen, and she was already losing her auditory sense.

"Uh.." she scanned the ailes and quickly grabbed a green yarn. "Here!"

She held out the yarn and waited for Adrien to take it.

She smiled that same smile from when she had given him his lucky charm.

Adrien lifted his hand and slowly unraveled his fingers so that his hand would fit the yarn. However, he missed and touched Marinette's hand with his index finger instead.

"Oh, sorry," Adrien said apologetically.

She wanted it again. It was as if she had been transported back to the day Adrien had lent her his umbrella. Like.. lightning. As good as, or perhaps better than, heaven. She blushed furiously. "Oh, it's no problem." She held it closer to him, asking him to take it.

Adrien smiled. "Thanks." The green yarn was now in his hands.

He walked behind Marinette again until they saw the register. "Now," Adrien teased, "Is it going to take another hour to get to the register, princess?"

"That depends," Marinette smirked. Maybe her ears needed some serious help. "We can always go back to the Employees Only room and try again from there. Maybe we can get a new record."

Adrien liked this. It felt so familiar.

He paid for both of their yarns and her other supplies despite her protests.

It was around 6 PM when Marinette returned. She was exhausted, but in a good way. After her shopping with Adrien, she had gone to the Eiffel Tower to work. Jagged Stone had recorded a new single, and he had again asked Marinette for the design of the cover. And her trip to the store had given her lots of inspiration. She knew that with a few more, she was going to get something no one had ever seen before. It was either going to be the worst thing to be created in human history or the best.

She entered the house, took off her shoes, and headed straight for her bedroom. But as soon as she was about to go up the stairs, she saw a familiar black cat on the living room couch, sipping hot chocolate.

"Hey, princess."

I know it wasn't Marichat this chapter, but I think it's essential that they see each other in and out of the masks. So, this story will likely have a boatload of dynamics: Marichat, Adrinette, Ladrien, and Ladynoir. Probably in that order. Also, this is all buildup for the Reveal hehehe :D.

Did you like it? Hate it? Have suggestions for the story and/or constructive criticism for my writing?

I'll try to upload every day (time not decided), so that I can do all of the prompts :D. I upload on fanfiction.net first.

Thanks everyone!

#marichat may 2018 #marichat may #marichat #miraculous ladybug #marinette #adrien agreste

[jim-reid]

Kings Of The Wild Frontier

Kevin Westenberg / Melody Maker 23.07.1994

The Jesus And Mary Chain were causing riots and generating angry editorials in the tabloids while you were probably in junior school. The Stud Brothers talk to the band described as The Sex Pistols of the Eighties about their team-up with Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star, their great new album, 'Stoned And Dethroned', and their ten years of delinquency and debauchery on the proverbial rock'n'roll edge. Stoned to say the least: Kevin Westenberg. "Does it seem like 10 years?" William Reid ponders this. "Well, it has been 10 years. First gig was June '84, first single 'Upside Down', was October '84. And I still really love that record." "Funny thing about a record," continues his brother Jim, "is it really is like a photograph of some sort. The further you get away from it, the more you've changed, and you look back at it and think, 'God, was that really me, was that really us, was that really what we were about then?'" Like all the best bands, the best fighters, the best lovers, the best drugs, the Jesus and Mary Chain went nuclear immediately. In their first 15 minutes of fame they were beaten up, banged up, accused of blasphemy, they blasphemed, caused riots and became the greatest thing a band can become - a cause cèlébre. As importantly, perhaps more importantly, they released "Psychocandy", an album that redefined the sound of British rock. It's been 10 years and six albums - the seventh, "Stoned And Dethroned", is out on August 15th. Ten years since the anarchy that saw them instantly dubbed The New Sex Pistols, nine since "Psychocandy", and, like all enfants terrible, they've had to live with and live up to their terrible infancy. It haunts them in the very absolute way only a very public past can. Every rock-literate 18-year-old kid will remember the notorious North London Poly gig when the Mary Chain stumbled onstage, hours late and pissed out of their minds, to be chased from the building 20 minutes later by a crowd who'd caused £7,000 worth of damage. They'll also remember the earlier, equally brutal and catastrophic appearance at London's ICA. And yet at the time, these 18-year-olds were probably too young to have bought a record, let alone going to a gig. Even those less well-versed in rock history are dimly aware of the vicious aura that surrounds the band. The Mary Chain were an instant myth. The astonishing thing is not merely that they've survived the myth, but that the myth has survived them. In the normal course of events, groups have either had to split or rock stars have had to end up six feet under for the legend to prevail. If they don't split and don't die, you can almost guarantee they'll serve a fashionable six-month sentence at the Betty Ford clinic, look like shit and mostly be seen poncing about in tuxedos at the MTV Awards, and the legend will be, if not dead, then certainly just a bittter memory. The Mary Chain were well aware of this when they described Bowie as a "f***ing scumbag who should've been shot in 1972", Iggy Pop, who they supported in Australia, as "a sad old pathetic shite", John Lydon as "a sad comedian" while "the best thing that could've happened to the Stones was if they'd met Charles Manson in '69 and he'd hacked their heads off with a f***ing chainsaw." Only last week, in an interview with the Maker's News Editor, Carol Clerk, William Reid showed scant regard for Linda McCartney's feelings when he said "John Lennon was a genius, and so was Paul. Unfortunately Paul never got murdered before he wrote 'Mull of Kintyre'." It's not that Jim and William were being malicious, it's just that they really care about cool, they really care about music and they hate to see it demeaned. The Jesus and Mary Chain began plotting their ascent, or rather dreaming of it (since most of their notority was gained more by accident than design), as dole boys in East Kilbride, a staunchly working-class suburb of Glasgow. They wrote some songs, sent out tapes, failed to get gigs. Eventually, a friend of a friend, Bobby Gillespie (who'd soon replace Murray Dalgliesh as the Mary Chain's drummer) advised them to send a tape to Creation's Alan McGee. A month later they played McGee's living room, then came the first single, "Upside Down", a bone-shattering blood-and-bubblegum rocker that cost £172 to make and sold 35,000 copies. Then came the ICA. There'd been trouble before, most notably a few months earlier at the Ambulance station, but for a riot to break out at London's Institute of Contemporary Art, just a a bottle-throw from Buckingham Palace, really did look like the storming of the Bastille. Or rather the storming of Buckingham Palace. "The so-called riots," remembers Jim. "I think, looking back on them, that it wasn't deliberate but it was our fault more than anybody else's. At the time we were stunned by it all, we would not believe what was going on. We were drinking an awful lot and we'd never been in a band before, we knew nothing about this shitty old business and you really have got to follow the rules to a certain extent. You really can't get shit-faced drunk, go onstage two and a half hours late, play for two minutes then fall over and expect anything other than a lot of f***ing trouble. Really it's amazing there wasn't more. Sometimes we did wanna play for longer but the bouncers would just drag us offstage and beat us up. Either that or we'd be forced to make a speedy exit." "We did undoubtedly benefit from the controversy," says William, "but only for a couple of months. Ever since then we've had to live up to that. Even now. Like, when we released 'Darklands' (J&MC's second album) people said, 'What the f*** is that?' because we were this group that caused riots. So it was like, 'What the f** are they up to? They're supposed to be ripping our faces off and here they are doing little ole country songs.'." "The problem was," continues Jim, "we began by playing to the gallery, you know. It does work, it does get your name in the paper. What we began to realise, though, was that wasn't really why we wanted to be in the band. We wanted, boring as it sounds, to be appreciated for the music we make. But people didn't want to do that. It got beyond a joke." After the ICA came the North London Poly. And then the Electric Ballroom. "North London Poly was quite satisfying," William later told the Melody Maker, "because it was what we intended to do that night. By the time we did the Electric Ballroom it was all expected. It was pathetic. It was like, 'One, two, three, let's riot!'. In those days the whole group was taken out of our hands. It's the only time in our career we've ever lost control, the only time we were truly frustrated." "I think," says Jim, "that subversion in music is the easiest kind of subversion there is. It's someone saying boo to a goose and it always makes headline news. It's so f***ing easy to cause a stir. You get so many groups who come along and do exactly what every other subversive band has done before and it still creates headlines. That stuff that went on with us at the beginning, there were probably people around then who were thinking, 'This is pathetic'. It's too easy to do it stupidly and get away with it." Some may have thought it pathetic, some were pleasantly outraged, others so repulsed that shortly after the Electric Ballroom show, Jim was hospitalised after a gang of thugs beat him to a pulp at a Nick Cave gig. Others took less direct action. The Sun bellowed indignantly about malicious damage, and pressing-plant workers refused to touch the band's track "Jesus Suck" (originally "Jesus F***") on the grounds that it was "blasphemous, obscene and controversial". By 1987, the Mary Chain had been arrested in Germany, charged with possession of amphetamine sulphate in Britain, banned from Radio 1 for advocating the use of drugs ("Some Candy Talking") again accused of blasphemy (for the crucifixion scene on the sleeve of "April Skies", tastefully released in Easter Week) and Jim had been jailed in Toronto for assaulting two fans. Somehow, inbetween, they'd found time to released two magnificent albums. The first, "Psychocandy", appearing at at time when pop either cared (Live Aid) or consumed (Madonna, Pet Shop Boys) was a cooly nihilistic Dionysian blitz. It felt like the purest, most terrible seduction. The second, "Darklands", though sonically more restrained, managed lyrically and in its soporific, smacked-out tone to blur the the distinction between love and drugs, between girls and drugs. Drugs, in their early days, were something the Mary Chain talked about a lot. "I don't want to get into that drug thing," says Jim, wincing when we reminds him of an interview in the Italian rock mag Rockerilla where he and his brother waxed lyrical about the joys of acid and speed. "Yeah, we were doing a lot of drugs in those early days. I don't wanna speak about it. I can name f***ing dozens of bands who people don't even associate with drugs who do an awful lot more drugs than we have ever done. "At the time we thought it was quite cool to talk about drugs, especially acid and speed. I mean, people werent't talking about speed in interviews, so we thought , 'Let's say it.' I don't apologise for it. People should say what they feel. However, it kinda saddens me that people might be doing drugs because we talked about them. I mean, I've never done drugs because I read an interview with a band, but stupid poeple do read these interviews and do drugs. And I don't even want to influence stupid people, I don't want to influence anybody to do anything for the wrong reason. All I say is, 'Do whatever you wanna do, but only because you wanna do it'." "The only thing I wanna say about this," says William, "is that when you get drunk or stoned or do speed, the stupidest ideas make you feel like a genius. I've written songs in that state that I've thought were f***ing brilliant. Then I've woken up the following day and realised what shite they are. So we never write songs when we're out of it." What all the Mary Chain's songs from "Psychocandy" and "Darklands" through 1989's "Automatic" and 1992's "Honey's Dead", have in common, other than vicious hooks and some seriously insidious melodies, is a profoundly romantic notion of escape. Most of the reviews, however, concentrated on insouciant cool and swaggering amorality that, while evident in the sound, is not particularily evident in the Mary Chain's lyrics. For Jim and William, though they'd never admit it (they rarely, if ever, talk about individual songs), men are renegade wastrels, born outsiders spurred on to glory or, more often, led to destruction by the irresistable allure of impossibly brilliant, impossibly beautiful women. Lyrically, and only lyrically, the Mary Chain are like Bruce Springsteen meets Quentin Tarantino - true romance, in fact. Pick any couplet from any album. We'll pick one from "Stoned and Dethroned". On "Bullet Lovers" Jim sings, "Look out world, here she comes / sucking on her painted thumb". It's uncannily similar to the opening line of the 1985 single "Just Like Honey" - "Look out for that girl, as she takes on half the world." In 10 years the Mary Chain have not mellowed. The opening track of "Stoned And Dethroned", "Dirty Water", is a gorgeously barbed pop song that, were it ever released as a single, would surely be destined for the Top 10...if it weren't for a chorus that exclaims with a melancholy ecstacy, "F*** with me and I'll f*** with you / Isn't that what we're supposed to do". The new album took, on and off, two years to write and contains some of their best material to date, notably the heavily analgesic "Wish I Could", "Save Me", a twisted lullaby, and the self-flagellating hymn "God Save Me" (the latter sung, suitably enough, by a surprisingly restrained Shane MacGowan). Musically, it's perhaps most easily comparable to "Darklands", though its confidence and f***-you attitude will have many dubbing it "Psychocandy II" (according to William, that was the working title). In fact, the only letdown is, ironically, the single, "Sometimes Alwyas", wherein Jim duets with Mazzy Star's Hope Sandoval, (with whom, by the way, William is now romantically entwined - although the publicity-shy chanteuse declines our invitation to speak today). It's marred by a lyric that is, by the band's standards, trite, and a melody that never soars in the way Mary Chain melodies ought. Nonetheless, "Stoned And Dethroned" once again confirms the Mary Chain as a maverick presence. "I think it's kind of nerve-wracking coming back after all this time," says William. "But it used to be more nerve-wracking, to be honest. I think we always felt more connected to what was going on than we do now. Now I kind of realise we've always been disconnected from everything. So if we go away for two years, two and a half years, and there's five new fashions in that time, I feel like it doesn't matter to us." It's this distance that's allowed the Mary Chain to survive with their dignity, their myth intact. Despite their early guerilla tactics, imitated by everyone from the Manics to Oasis, despite their casually aggressive indifference to their live audience that would eventually give rise to a thousand insipidly ethereal shoegazers, despite their contempt for indiedom (from Day One they said they wanted to be superstars) - an attitude taken up by the Stone Roses and, again, the Manics), the Jesus and Mary Chain have never belonged to a scene. Despite their enormous influence, they never even spearheaded one. Very few others in the present pop scene can claim such longstanding influence and reverence. Mayeb the Cure, maybe Siouxie Snd The Banshees. Perhaps only Nick Cave. "I don't think we have much in common with Cave musically," says William, "but we do share his attitude. He just makes music and keeps a healthy distance between himself and the business. He's doing that, we've always done that." "I think that's what's really kept us going this long," adds Jim. "We have an ability to keep our distance from the business itself. If you don't do that you're liable to be chewed up and spat out. To begin with, we've got our own studio, we can mosey down and make a record whenever we feel like it. We choose the sleeves, everything to do with the Jesus and Mary Chain we oversee. We're just ourselves. "All the controversy is difficult to belive now, but I kind of think it was more to do with the music that riots or anything. The music scene was so incredibly lame when we appeared. We came along and upset things, shook things up for about 15 minutes. Since then we seem to have spent the last 10 years confusing the shit out of people." So, can you imagine another 10 years? "I don't know, who knows?" says Jim. "Once you get a taste of this you become frighteningly aware that it might not last. Ever since 'Psychocandy'came out I've always felt, 'This is it, this is the last year', that I'll be looking for a job soon, that someone will say, 'Look at that minicab driver, isn't that they guy who used to be in the Mary Chain?' I've spent so long feeling the whole thing is just temporary." "Do you remember," William asks his brother, "when you, me and Douglas (Hart, ex-J&MC-bassist and now videomaker) were in the dole office and in walked Lance Percival (camp comedian and Sixties/Seventies TV personality)? And when he left the whole dole office was going, 'That's Lance Percival, that's Lance Percival'? Well, that's kind of how I feel. Pop music is such a f***ing fickle thing. I've seen so many great groups just get forgotten. I don't want that to happen to us." On their toes. And, 10 years on, neither stoned nor dethroned.

#interview

[the-voice-of-hell]

The Septagram

This is a first draft of a novel. Opinions welcome if they come from a reasonably kind place.  The final draft, whenever that happens, will have substantial editing of dialogue, but keep most events intact.  It will have some illustrations, and RPG rules for the setting in the back end, and probably sold cheaply through Amazon.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, Gore, Horror-themed Content, Some Cliché Positive Depiction of Cops that Could Understandably Be Taken as Copaganda, Bible Quotes, Depiction of Demons that Could be Offensive to Some Satanists, Strong Sexual Content, Some Depiction of Sexism, Racism, etc.

THE SEPTAGRAM

-Great American Satan

Grade 7

PART ONE:

THE HERALDS

          “The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth: and the third part of trees was burnt up, and all green grass was burnt up.

       And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire  was cast into the sea: and the third part of the sea became blood;

        And the third part of the creatures which were in the sea, and had life, died; and the third part of the ships were destroyed.

        And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters;

    And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.

 …And I beheld, and heard an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the three angels, which are yet to sound!”

                                             -Spoiled Brats Knocking

                                              Chess Pieces Off Tables

***

“Daddy, I don’t think we should have taken that road.”

“Aw Snookums, it’ll be fine.”

“But what about the murderers?”

“Don’t you trust the boys in blue to do their jobs, Honey?”

“You should’ve trusted their wisdom to not weasel your way around the roadblock.”

“Haha, ya got me there, kiddo.  Listen, we’re driving. Nobody can murder us if we’re pulling seventy sweet em’s pee aitch on these empty streets, right?”

“I guess...”

Jason Homme drove his daughter Maddy crazy sometimes, but they had a good reason to be heading into the locked down part of the state.  Jason’s brother Kevin and mother Susan were in an isolated city, secured by police, but mom was unwilling to leave.  Kevin figured if anyone could convince her to evacuate, it was Jason - in person.  He brought Maddy to alternate driving until they were in the safe zone.

“We can do this, Maddy.  You just gotta believe in your old man.  You believe in me, right?”

“I guess...”

“Whaaat?  Has Daddy’s Princess lost faith in the king?  Our kingdom will surely perish!  No one will be spared!  Only the pure heart of--”

“Knock it off, Daddy!  I believe in you.  God.”

“...And so the kingdom was saved.  Trust me Princess, we’re gonna be A-OK.”

The state of Washington had a great variety of local climates, partitioned by mountains, hills, and bodies of water.  The east of the state was a great plain with typical midwestern skies, bright and hot in the summer, grading into patchy forests here and there.  As the car climbed the hills along the winding little road, the forest grew more dense.

But something was wrong here and it quickly became apparent.  That haze turned out to not be morning mist after all.  It thickened into great waves of smoke.  A forest fire was out of control somewhere, and not far away.

“Oh,” cried Maddy, “This can’t be good.  We really shouldn’t have come this way!”

“Oh Baby, it’s just a little forest fire.  They happen every summer around here.”

“Yeah, but what if there’s no firemen around anymore?”

“Don’t worry your head.  We just get past this, get to your Gran and Uncle Kevin, and it’s smooth sailin’.  We’ll ride out of here with a veritable phalanx of Washington state’s finest.”

“OK, but go faster.”

They were already up to eighty.  At that rate, if they didn’t get in a crash they were going to hit the mountains in minutes.  The smoke thickened and thickened, white grey and then black.  The little road had no real outlets - just lumber trails and rural residential dead ends.  If they chickened out, they’d need to turn around and lose a hell of a lot of time.

Jason flexed his solid hands on the wheel, pricked up his alertness to its full height.  He didn’t look from side to side, unfocused to take advantage of the widest amount of his peripheral view for motion and danger.  They drove into the smoke like driving from day into night.

He couldn’t help but reduce his speed, nervous of falling trees and the possibility he’d have to brake for a wall of flames.  Still, he was brave enough to do sixtyish.  Maddy was in the middle of the back seat, one hand gripping each of the front seats, trying to get the fullest view of the road - as if that would protect her.  They were sweating bullets.

Orange lights gleamed in the dark. Sparks raced across the road and disappeared behind them.  And then they saw the flames.  It was so quick at that speed - one second in relative darkness, another in the sparking zone, one more and there was a wall of fire.  Two walls of fire, left and right.  The flames nearly formed an arc over the road.  Maddy started to scream.

“FASTER, DADDY, FASTER!”

“I’M GOIN’, BABY!  I’M GOIN’!”

The road curved too sharply for their speed.  He skidded through the gravel, rode the guard rail like a demolition derby devil, got back on concrete after torturous moments.  Was their car already on fire?  They bored through hell like a power drill.

And then it passed.  The black disappeared, leaving them in grey-white smoke again, ash whipping in the wind like dust devils.  They had rounded the curve of a hill, whose steep sides were bare enough of grass to form an outer limit for the demonic flames.

“See, Snookums?  We did it!  Easy as pie.”

“Daddy!” She practically cried and punched him in the shoulder.

“Seriously, hon.  It’s gonna be fine, I’m for real about this.  Faith.”

She collapsed into her seat.  “I believe in you, Daddy.  I do.”

They finally got far enough from the thick of the smoke that Jason dared to roll to a stop and check to see if the roof was on fire.  As he got out, Maddy remembered the reason for the blockades and looked about crazily.

Murder clubs.  The concept was chilling.  Everyone knew that some people are just rotten and bad, like serial killers and their ilk.  Nobody guessed that there were enough to form cult-like groups and plot mass-murders for fun.  But they made the mistake of focusing their efforts in one geographic location, which let the government contain them with a little old fashioned martial law.

Martial law that they’d broken to get in here.  Maddy didn’t know what to expect.  Would they look like those internet losers, mad they couldn’t get laid?  Would they have lots of guns?  The stories said they preferred to use machetes and axes.  She shuddered and almost cried out for her father again, but he got in the car and spared her nerves.

“Just a lil’ sooty up there.  Guess I’ll be visiting a body shop when we get back to Yakima.  Unless you think they still have service in the safe zone...”

“Just drive, Daddy, please!”

“I’m drivin’, I’m drivin’!  Your wish is my command, Princess.”

***

Iphigenia Wallace washed her hands in the sink.  She was pretty sure she’d killed a few of them.  Those men.  Not that it was a sin, but she wished she could know for sure.  Had the one died when she smashed his head with a brick?  Had the other two died when she ran them over in a stolen Dodge Charger?  She didn’t know and it made her nervous.

The world had gone to hell and her family with it.  Those murder creeps started killing people in the night and the government overreacted with martial law, roadblocks.  But that only served to trap people in an area with an army of homicidal bastards and inadequate infrastructure.  Communication blackouts aimed at keeping them from coordinating by cell made it so no one could talk with their families and friends.

Ippy was one of those confused people, scrambling to find out - of her friends and family, who made it out?  Who was still in danger?  But she had worse luck than average.  Her mom and younger brothers and sisters all lived in Lakewood, which had been hit badly by the murder clubs.  The clubs had members in the military at Fort Lewis.  She found her family in their home.  They never had a chance to flee.

Then she sought out her best friends, in Fern Hill and South Tacoma..  Candy and Yvonne were both nowhere to be found, with apartments showing clear signs of breaking and entry.  She didn’t have any choice but to stop searching for them.  They could have been anywhere.  She realized, looking at the scratched and corroded bathroom mirror, that she’d always filled her life with routines, filled her thoughts with friends and family - and that meant her head was emptying out at an alarming pace.  What would she find when she didn’t have anything or anyone left to think about?

There was still Elijah.  Elijah had been her first boyfriend in junior high, but grew up to be more of a gay best friend.  He was living in Hilltop.  Her desperate search for the last traces of herself was narrowing in on Tacoma like a noose.

“Elijah... Be alive.”

She was dark, barely visible in the feeble light.  But her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw a person in there.  Who is she?  She put a thin reedy hand on the mirror then jumped back in shock.

What she had taken for a rust spot on the mirror sprang to life - a tiny bat startled by the vibration of her fingertips on the glass.  It flapped and shrieked, knocking Ippy on her ass with its outsized personality before getting lost inside the space above the toilet stalls.

She turned and got to her feet in a hurry, hustling out of the beast’s filthy little kingdom.  A little routine popped into her mind, made her feel like a human again - the annoyance that her freshly cleaned hands had just touched the bathroom floor and needed to be washed again.

Outside the bathroom she was in a gas station parking lot, cheap businesses on one side of the street, a string of forested lots on the other.  A car sped by, then an SUV.  It screeched to a stop and backed up for her.  She steeled herself for action.

The window was down and a Samoan lady hung her arm out the window in a peaceful gesture.  “Hey!  You wanna come to our church?  It’s safe there.  We have a lot of guns.”

“Uh... No thanks.  But can I get a ride to Hilltop?”

The guy at the wheel bitched, “I ain’t driving to fuckin’ Hilltop.”

The lady turned to him, “Why not you lazy bitch?”

“It’s too dangerous.  Forget it.”

Ippy waved the lady off.  “It’s OK.  I got a car, just thought it would be safer in company.  I’ll be fine.”

“Mm, OK.  Whatchu got for a weapon, Honey?”

She shrugged, then hoisted the hammer.  It was a slim profile claw hammer with a recurved long yellow plastic handle and black rubber grips, with serration inside the claw side.  She’d just picked it up from a house that had been abandoned in the middle of renovation.  “How about this?”

The Samoan grinned a gold tooth, her eyes disappearing into pleasant black crescents.  “I love it.  Have a nice trip!”  The man drove her away.

Iphigenia decided going unseen as little as possible was the ideal and went into the forested lots.  Someone peeked out of the dumpster at the gas station, watched her go.  He picked his way out of the noisy hiding spot with preternatural stealth and set his sneakered foot to concrete.  He padded across the bare street behind her, exaggerated spring in his tiptoes, looking like a cartoon burglar.  As he began to scale the forested hill behind her, his fingers slapped the wet bark - skin as moist and green as banana slugs.

***

Hilltop, crown jewel of Tacoma.  Well, crown at any rate.  Tacoma was an extremely sprawled, mostly one and two story grey smear on the southeast side of Puget Sound.  The sprawl was a motley of lesser cities that had been incorporated over the centuries in a cement of cheap hideous houses and strip malls.  The real Tacoma at its center was a port city next to a massive hill.  “Downtown” was the mix of mint-condition antique brick buildings and gleaming new development sloping down to the water.  But the real heart of Tacoma was the peak of that hill - blocks and blocks of impoverished single-family homes - weathered, cheaply built and long overdue for demolition.  Everybody from Olympia to Seattle knew about Hilltop - much more than knew about the Tacoma Art Museum.

It wasn’t the most easily defended piece of real estate, despite the high ground.  But people insisted on having more breathing room, access to their own bathrooms.  Nobody wanted to move into the hospital tower, which Detective Park and his irregulars could defend more easily - snipers watching anything within a mile of the place.  Park settled for gathering people in that crusty old neighborhood, keeping a weather eye through elaborately planned and executed patrol patterns and radio communication.

“Something is interfering with radio in the southeast.  Patrols there aren’t always getting through.”  Park was discussing strategy with the other commanding officers.  They were such a mixed bag of cops, soldiers, and volunteers that they decided to forgo normal chain of command and voted him chief of operations, but he still operated in a loose council - rarely made a call without consulting the other ranking officers.

“I can confirm that,” Officer Coffey said.  He was in charge of the civilian contingent - a high ranked security guard and army vet.  “I couldn’t get a signal on my patrol.  My guys couldn’t either.”

“It has to be the power lines.  We could try calling in closer.  Patrols there get word to the middle blocks, they relay to command.  If it works, make that part of protocol.”  Colonel James was active Army from the fort and should have been in charge, he was less assertive from a sense of shame.  Some of his men had turned out to be members of murder clubs.

“It probably won’t work.”  First Lieutenant Alameda was Air Force.  “We just have to do it analog - make the patrols quick so we can get word of mouth intel.”

“Mmm… something more than that,” Park said.  “Let’s make sure everyone who patrols there has a noisemaker.  Something they can use to get a warning out quick, without wasting ammo.  Ideas?”

Sergeant Infante was the only other guy from Tacoma PD.  “I think I know where I can scrounge up some air horns.”

“Make it happen, Infante.  Thanks.”   Park smiled at him.  That guy was top notch.  Not just another gun bunny looking for an excuse, despite being SWAT.  “Any more word from Homeland Security?  This holding pattern is the pits.”

“Just maintain,” Coffey said.  “Three commands didn’t check in this morning.  Auburn, Des Moines, and Beacon Hill.”

“Mm, I don’t like that.  They’re spread out, but still close enough it makes me wonder if they got hit by something.”

“SeaTac is close to all that, they report status normal.  Still taking evacuees, no hostile activity.”

Park pushed the meat of his forehead around.  “Can we spare anyone with a motorcycle to check on Des Moines?  That has the least cover en route, minimum ambush potential.”

Alameda said, “My secretary is always bragging on her bike.  She lives downtown, too.  It’s available.”

“Great.  Thank you.  Gentlemen.”  He nodded to dismiss the meeting and people broke into smaller groups to discuss needed details before returning to their respective commands.

Park followed Infante out of the tent, slapping him on the shoulder.  “Hey buddy.  Where are we shopping?  Archie McPhee’s is up in Wallingford.”

“Haha.  There’s an auto parts downhill.  I’ve seen ‘em there, at least a few.  Should be enough to equip patrols if they hand off.”

“Good man.”

Infante, appropriately, had a babyish face.  His pleasant, sensitive expression made him look all the younger.  “Not to be rude Detective, but don’t you have another duty?  We’re spread pretty thin up here.”

“I have a few.  Might as well get in my cardio instead of sitting on my duff up here.”  Park hoped he didn’t come off weird.  He was just glad to be hanging out with a fellow policeman.  The irregulars were good guys, but it was tense dealing with them.  If the Colonel decided to pull rank at any point, who knew where Park would end up?  “Besides.  I’d rather be with Tacoma PD any time.”

“Thanks, boss.”

They ambled along the cracked and mossy streets.  Some civilians were chilling on their lawns, glad for the time off work, whatever the situation.  They had to be told not to run barbecues and dads with invisible aprons glared at the cops as they passed.  Park was over six feet tall, broad-shouldered in a business casual and a shoulder holster.  Infante was just under six feet, his jarhead hairstyle and bulky SWAT uniform making his head look a bit small for his body.  His skin had a pleasant reddish tone, Park was like a sun-shy mushroom of a man, though his forearms and upper face were starting to get a light chestnut burnish from tromping around under summer skies.

“We don’t get much time to socialize on this duty.  How do you like SWAT?  Pretty new, right?”

“A few years here.  I didn’t see you much either.”

“Yeah.  So how about it?”

“We get all the toys, you know?”

“True…  Don’t take it wrong, but I don’t like guns as much as I did before I made gold.  This stuff going on… What if these assholes didn’t have easy access?”

“Eh, you and I both know we can’t what if.  It isn’t in the job description.”

“Yeah.  Well, it’s good to know there’s well-armed good guys.  I’m really glad we have you.”

“I just wish the rest of the squad was still around.  How could they just evacuate like that?  We got a job to do.”

“Only two detectives stayed.  SWAT had a better ratio.”

“Just me out of twelve.  That’s ate up sir.”

“That’s a big 10-4, Sergeant.  Heh.”

They could hardly talk as they staggered down a very steep stretch of hill.  The street there was cobblestone, quite randomly and at odds with the local architecture.  Then they came down to a comparatively level cross street and turned the corner.

The city was largely abandoned.  Foolish vagrants stuck around for primo looting and could still be seen wandering the streets sometimes, but there weren’t any within line of sight.  The police were quite alone.

Park saw a trickle of sweat at the back of Infante’s neck - a sign of humanity in the perfect soldier boy.  He didn’t know why it brought a smile to his face, not really.  “This isn’t the worst duty to draw, given the circumstances.”

Infante wheeled on him, shocked.  “Excuse me, sir?  We aren’t exactly neck deep in alligators, but this is fucked up.  Some of those psychos were Army and we’re working with Army right now.  And as far as we know, the murderers are all in plainclothes.  They could be anyone, come from anywhere.  This detail sucks balls, sir.”

“I’m sorry, brother.”

“It sucks balls.”

“I really am sorry.  I don’t wanna make light of anyone’s … travail, whatever.  I’ll be glad when we get these people out of the lockdown too.  I don’t know what to say.  What do you have to say about it?”

“About what?”

“About… them.  The murder clubs.”

“Pure evil, straight out of hell.  When we get everyone to safety, I’m gonna come back and send them all where they belong.”

“I bet you will.  Good man.”

Park didn’t like hearing him talk about killing.  It was an interest in killing that brought the creeps together in the first place.  He knew Infante’s mindset was fundamentally different, but it still made him sad.  They stepped into the auto part store through the already broken window and collected their prize.

***

Jason and Maddy weren’t about wasting time.  The forest roads didn’t feel safe - too many places for murder clubs to hide.  So they drove as fast as they dared.  Maddy took the wheel and Jason kept an eye out for trouble and turns.  They came out of the mountains into a cow town, then headed north through heavily wooded suburbs before turning west.  That street would take them into and out of the Green River valley and up to Interstate 5.

They descended into a cleft in the hill face, surrounded by tall dark evergreens, then burst out into the valley.  More dairy farms, but corporate parks and car dealerships too.  It was the flat nothing between Auburn and Kent.  The open space, empty of people and cars, was uncanny.  But to Maddy, who had been imagining attacks from the tree line for the last hour, it was a relief.  She unconsciously eased off the gas pedal and they slowed to forty-five.

“Perfect.  It’s been a while but I recognize all of this,” her dad said.

“And you’re sure 99 is going to get us to Beacon Hill faster?”

“Princess, look at the time we’re making.  We’ll be there before you know--”

His words fell away as he tried to comprehend the thing that was rising from the small stand of trees at the side of the road.  It was like a human arm, somehow grown longer - twenty feet for the upper arm, twenty feet for the lower, and patterned like a dairy cow.  It touched the street in front of them and they crashed into it.

Glass spider webbed and erupted with cutting little chunks.  Sparks flew.  Airbags exploded in their faces.  They whipped in circles before smashing through the guard rail and splashing in a wet ditch with intense force.

Jason woke up to his daughter shaking his head and shoulders around.  Maybe not the recommended first aid after a car crash, but he wasn’t able to think clearly enough to advise against it.  He licked blood from the corner of his mouth.

“DADDY DADDY WAKE UP!”

“Princess?  It’s OK, it’s fine, Baby.”

“You need to-” she sobbed “-g-get out of the car!”

“Sure thing, whatever you want, kiddo.”

Maddy took his manly arm in both of her scrawny paws and jerked uselessly.  He tugged his arm back gently.

“C’mon, hon.  Just let me do it.”

“O-oh OK.  OK, fine.”  She threw her hands up, stepped a few feet away, and slumped against a muddy embankment.

Jason tried opening the car door, then failing that he repositioned himself to force it.  He was a not atypical man, a little under six foot and two hundred twenty pounds, formerly a bit athletic.  But all his limbs felt leaden and clumsy.  He just kept moving until he took in enough air to decompress his ribs, start to revive.  She couldn’t watch for long, just taking short tearful glances at him and trying less successfully to get control of her own breathing.

He finally pushed the door open and staggered out, then leaned back against the car.  His feet were in ten inches of muddy water.  Or was it watery mud?  “See, snookums?  I’m right as rain.”

“Oh Daddy!”  She came in for a hug and he accepted it.

Probably no broken ribs, he thought.  Then he remembered something else.  “Uh, sweetie, did you happen to see the… tree that hit us?”

“Oh god!”  It looked like she was just remembering as well.  She broke from the hug and clambered up onto the street.

He followed, more slowly.  “Uh… Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing!  Noth-”

“Princess?”

“Oh!  There’s blood!  Oh no...”

He finally got up onto the concrete and came up behind her to lend moral support.  He saw the blood spray on the road.  Looked like what you’d expect from a very small animal - a squirrel, rabbit, rat, that sort of thing.  And there was no other remains in sight, so perhaps it was something small that got flung out of the road at that.  He couldn’t figure it.  “It’s nothing Honey.  Let’s just get walkin’.  We can probably find a car to borrow in one of these houses.”

“We should keep walking for a while, get away from here.  I don’t trust these houses.”  Maddy looked at the side of the road the thing had come from.  The sky looked above it was in a red haze almost, like a field full of cows kicking up their own manure - but no cows in sight.  She trembled.

“Alright, Baby.  Let’s shake a leg, OK?”

***

Iphigenia had lied about having a car.  She crashed the charger after killing those murderers.  She was driving crazy, worried she was being chased.  She did tend to feel safer on foot because it was easier to hide and harder to get truly boxed in.  She could escape killers in cars by just running where they couldn’t.

Why had she lied?  Just to end the conversation, allay the lady’s concern.  Maybe the hammer had helped in that respect.  She didn’t think much of it at the time she picked it up, but it was very handy - not just for impressing women.  The wooded lots were on a steep hill - one of the bumps that eventually added up to Hilltop many miles away - and she had taken to hooking the trunks with the tool as a climbing aid.

Ippy came out on a paved residential street, part of a good long stretch of pure suburbia.  Two story houses with lawns and everything.  Before the evacuation there would have been more cars in the driveways and on street curbs, but the people took their best cars and locked up the leftovers tight in garages.  Aside from that and the relative silence, the neighborhood really didn’t look any different from how it normally would be.  She walked between blocks in the middles of streets, cut through lawns, kept an eye out for useful stuff to borrow.

She was cutting across a lawn and randomly decided to go under a set of swings rather than walk around it.  She hooked the hammer claw on the bar for no particular reason and swung from it.  Her feet were still touching the grass, but as she let the bar carry her weight, she spun in a half circle.  That’s when she saw it.

Just for a moment she saw a greenish human shape duck behind a fence.  It had been looking her way.  Following.  Hunting?  Well Green Man, let’s go.  Ippy very quickly switched directions and headed straight back the other way.  Was it watching her that moment?  She heard its footsteps as it began to run, and kept pace, leaping a small fence and rounding a corner onto the sidewalk for an open chase.

It was dressed like a man, but had its lower arms and the back of its neck visible, and looked some kind of slimy green color.  Ippy had no idea what to make of that, but didn’t want to let it get away, just to stalk her again or go get its friends.  And she was faster.

It slowed just a moment to round another corner and she caught up, swinging the hammer into its shoulder, sending it flipping onto the ground.  It looked like a murder clubber - young, acned, male, nondescript clothes, camouflage army cap.  But his skin had all turned green and slimy-looking.  His ears were nearly inhumanly large, nose bulbous, mouth too wide and groaning through needle-like teeth.

“What the fuck happened to you?” She asked him, but wasn’t expecting a response - was too lost in confused thoughts and feelings.

“Whaddya mean, bitch?  You think we care if we live of die?  It’s--”

She silenced him by swinging the hammer within an inch of his mouth.

“I mean why do you look like that?  Why are you a goblin?”

“Stuck-up bitch, think you’re too good.  You’re prey.  We’ll--”

She dropped the hammer’s head into his guts, forcing his last syllable to dissipate into a wheeze.  “My curiosity is running out.”  She was trying to be coldly threatening, but she thought about these cruddy little fuckers and she thought about her family and her face went hot, her hands began to shake.  To still them, she gripped the hammer harder, then found herself raising it without any conscious thought, swinging it down.

“AUGH!  AUGH!  AAAA!”  He tried to block the blows but they just destroyed his hands before destroying the rest of him - he only prolonged his suffering.

His blood was green.  Guess that’d do that to one’s complexion.

***

    NEXT

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#The Septagram