#fringe is 16 years old

[ahappydnp]

in 2006 when i was a baby emo teenager i used to send friend requests on myspace to literally every single vaguely emo british boy i could find on the filter search (even got a myspace boyfriend that way lmao). probably sent one to dan. we would have been best friends </3

[thesearchforbluejello]

I think one of the funniest things in Fringe is that they set Olivia up with Boring Love Interest Man™ and then merc him in an extravagant and creative fashion and then MERC HIM AGAIN to replace that bullshit with Olivia's primary season one personal relationship being her and her sister raising her four year old niece.

[sutaagaaru]

STAR BOY— NANAMI KENTO X READER

CHAPTER 04: NANAMI KENTO IS A GENTLEMAN.

౨ৎ synopsis: nanami kento is finally dragged out to a bar by his work colleague, satoru. against his better judgment he ends up drinking, and finds himself spending the night with a pretty girl. he can’t seem to stop thinking about her, or if he’ll ever see her again. turns out she’s closer than he thought….

౨ৎ content: masturbation (m), you are plotting and gojo satoru is your shit stirring accomplice, massage therapy nanami, flashbacks, i’m planting little foreshadowings here and there (hehe), this man is JEALOUS, use of ‘sir’ many times

౨ৎ chapter summary: nanami is starting to crack, and you’re doing nothing to help stop it.

previous chapter // next chapter

“i feel so blessed in this moment that it’s you who’s contacting me, you know.”

satoru’s lilting voice rang through your phone’s speaker, while you were manoeuvring through your kitchen.

“don’t consider yourself special, gojo. i just need your help with something.” you rolled your eyes despite the fact he couldn’t see it.

“as much as i’m flattered, i don’t think we’d make a very good couple. i’m simply too valuable in the single market.” the man teased you effortlessly, and you realised that this was just his natural personality.

“in your dreams. i need you to help me with nanami, actually. you know more about him than i do and i want to be at an advantage.” you grabbed a carton of eggs from your pantry, as well as a jug from your cabinet.

“well, in that case, i’m all ears. i’ll tell you his deepest, darkest secrets and his turn on’s, even ones he doesn’t know he has.” satoru’s smile could be heard through his words.

“don’t be so crude, gojo. i’m being serious.” you scolded him, cracking an egg.

after an enlightening conversation with maki and nobara last night— which consisted of them laughing at your irrational behaviour, and recreating said behaviour in your living room— they told you that you should find out more about him from his own friends, namely satoru.

“okay, fine. but there is one teeny tiny condition. you have to call me satoru from now on.”

“absolutely not.”

“please?”

“no.”

“pretty please? it will help you get nanamin!”

“how will it– fine… satoru.” you surrendered, reluctantly. he was so insufferable, but you truthfully enjoyed the friendship you had, even if satoru was perhaps the most irritating man you’d encountered.

“yippee!” you pulled a face he obviously could not witness (of course he was the type of man to say yippee…)

“okay, first of all, do you have a pencil skirt?”

౨ৎ

nanami kento was… well, he was dumbfounded, for lack of a more dramatic term. the dramatics were your thing, and you seemed to amp it up overnight. it was like you peered into his mind, his secrets, his innermost less-than-gentlemanly thoughts. but before that…

he’d already spent the night tossing, turning, and quite frankly pacing his bedroom thinking about the feeling of your sweet lips on his cheek.

how could he be acting so childish over a kiss on the cheek of all places? it was like a time warp back into his formative years, with his sad, asymmetrical fringe and a permanent dust of blush on his cheek if a girl even spoke to him.

he remembered how satoru would tease him back then, the same way he would now:

“aw look, nanami is blushing! he must think that girl is pretty, huh?” satoru teased, poking a 16 year old nanami in the arm.

“shut up gojo… you’re so insufferable.” he muttered, fiddling with the strands of his hair.

“you speak like an old man, nanami, has anyone ever told you that?” satoru jokingly wrapped an arm around the boy, who just glared at him.

“yes. you have. every time we speak.”

“ignore him, nanami. he’s trying to rile you up on purpose.” shoko mused, clearly getting a kick out of it but wanting to spare nanami from the situation, “i’m gonna go for a smoke…”

“those things are bad for you, moron. i’ll take one too, though.” suguru chimed in, following shoko outwards.

nanami wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but suguru was getting quieter than usual.

“they’re so… anyway, if you like the girl, you should go for it. no harm in shooting your shot.” satoru continued, while nanami rolled his eyes.

“i don’t care for relationships. all it does is distract me from what i need to be doing with my life.” nanami mumbled dispassionately.

“wow. i knew you were cold, nanami, but that’s just… damn. relationships are fun. and i would know since i’ve had like, 40 of ‘em. you’re kinda… mean, nanami. wait, i just thought of the most genius nickname for you…” satoru’s voice trailed off.

“nanamin!” nanami snapped out of his reminiscence of the past, by the ever disappointing sound of satoru’s voice.

“are you having a good morning? feeling nice and relaxed, full of life?” satoru cheesed, of course it was because he’d had a master plan in action, but nanami didn’t yet know that. so of course he assumed satoru was being his usual self.

“what in god’s name are you talking about, gojo? can you please save the theatrics for a time where i am not present?” he sighed woefully.

“i don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you–”

“gojo. must you make the same joke over and over? it’s been well over a decade by now.”

“alright, alright. it doesn’t matter. the point is, i hope you have a beautiful week.” satoru bowed in an unusual politeness, and made his way towards the door.

“is– is that it?” nanami asked with slight reluctance.

“no, that’s not it, but for now… i am finished. bye bye!” satoru quickly stormed out of the room before nanami could even give a response. (he was too busy realising gojo is exactly the type of man to say ‘bye bye’. and why did everyone keep leaving before he could respond?)

regardless, nanami’s poor mind wandered back to you again. he was torn between two options: give in to that voice in the back of his head– that almost sounded like satoru?– and take what he finally wants for once; or do the responsible, level-headed thing that he would usually do.

of course he should choose the latter, but it was easier said than done because the minute he saw you, the former option seemed much more appealing to him.

maybe if he avoided you, it would be easier to be rational! yes! that’s exactly what he’d do, he’d just ignore you— fuck.

the timing was cruel. the moment the thought formed in his mind, there you were with a coffee cup, knocking on his door.

but it wasn’t only your presence that had shaken him up, it was when he invited you in and saw the tight-fitted, black pencil skirt adorning your body.

“good morning! i hope i’m not disturbing you.” you beamed, closing the door behind you.

“…oh! no, i was just preparing our project for today,” nanami mentally slapped himself, he’d practically been ogling you but if you’d noticed, you weren’t showing it. he turned his head to the clock on his wall, then back to you, “you’re here a little bit early today. you aren’t expected to be here for another 20 minutes, and as you can see by the empty bullpen, none of the other staff prefer having an early start. did you need something?” nanami willed himself to keep his eyes level.

“yes, actually. i wanted to know more about this project, and how i could be of better service since it’s my first week…” you were deeply satisfied to see nanami’s eyes descend down your body with a complete lack of subtlety, and shoot back upwards hastily as if he were chastising himself.

you loved gojo satoru right now.

“ahem, yes, well i’d be happy to talk you through it, the project, and how you can use this as a foundation for future endeavours too. i’m sure with your past experience, you’ll be very useful. for the project.” nanami briefly considered launching himself out of the nearby window.

“you’re so kind, i really appreciate that about you.” you gave the man a heartfelt compliment, “i also got you a coffee from the bakery to apologise for my clumsiness… but you’d be better off taking it from me otherwise i’ll most likely spill it.” you laughed while he grabbed the cup from your hand.

“you really shouldn’t have, i told you it was fine. but i- is that black coffee?" he interrupted himself, the smell of the bitter drink invading his nostrils.

"i may have asked around to find out your favourite... i hope that's okay." you grinned, knowing this was only the beginning of your plan (operation: get nanami laid, as satoru crudely named it.)

"it's more than okay, i didn't have time to get my own this morning because of the workload i have today, so thank you. speaking of, would you like to stand by my desk while i show you the plan for this week's project?" nanami took a sip from his cup, familiar with the rich taste, and he sighed satisfactorily.

"of course, i'm really interested to see what the–shit!" with the grace of a landmine, you knocked a pot of stationery off of nanami's desk, and it landed with a thud onto the floor.

"you should stop making such a habit of this." nanami chuckled as he watched you scramble to the floor next to him.

"i'm like a human tornado. seriously, i should be padded with foam to prevent accidents to myself and others." you peered up at him (bad idea), seeing him loom over your kneeling body and it made you dizzy with want.

nanami, meanwhile, felt like he was unknowingly participating in a social experiment in which he had to resist the temptations of the perfect woman. and with god as his witness, he was failing miserably.

what was it about your eyes that had him so enraptured? his plan to avoid you so he could impede exact moments such as this had been cast aside.

he just needed to get through the week.

"i swear, you are just as dramatic as gojo, if not more. here," he offered his hand, something that had become a frequent occurence, and pulled you up, causing you to almost stumble into him, "you okay?"

"yes, i'm okay. let's agree to ignore my elegant slip ups and then you can tell me all about this proposal." you exhaled.

"right. this is the premise of what we do here. the company collects clients which is decided by the board, made up of each department manager and including my superiors. for this project, we have the author torugu gusetsu, who we have worked with previously on a compilation of short stories and poems." nanami explained thoroughly, making sure you were following along.

"shades of winter! i have that in my collection, it was beautifully written and the design was perfect for the central theme."

"yes, the design is one of my favourites, gojo put all his efforts into that. torugu has brought us a novel this time, similar to the themes of shades of winter, so gratefully he has chosen to work with us again. our department first focuses on the editing, so each and every one of us will have to read it and give initial notes. i have previous examples of notes i have written if you'd like to see them." nanami releases your hand— oh god, he'd been holding it the entire time and neither of you noticed— and hands you a folder full of exquisitely written notes.

"these are the notes i wrote for mieko kawakami's heaven: roman novel. it's important to highlight specific lines and chapters which you find compelling, as well as sections you feel aren't as necessary. after this process, we have a meeting and discuss these notes, and relay them back to the author. this is where the marketing comes in. our department creates advertisements and ways to build excitement with the public before the book's release." he continues, skillfully averting your eyes to avoid you seeing the blush tinting his cheeks.

"so things like press tours, promotions that showcase the best parts of the book?" you added for confirmation.

"exactly, we have our hands full in this department." he nodded affirmatively, "publishing and marketing used to be two separate departments, until they conjoined the two. it's the reason we have the most staff."

nanami continued to give you the details until you felt you were prepared.

"do you have any questions?" he asked you.

"not at the moment, but i'll be sure to come to you if i think of any. you've really helped me out, thank you... sir." you bowed, hiding the tiny smirk planted on your lips.

"what exactly is that going to do? i'm sure he gets called sir all the time, how will it be any different if i say it?" you grabbed a forkful of your fried egg from the plate.

"trust me, it's completely different," satoru remarked, "he insists that everyone use his family name, and i've always known it's because he secretly loves that title a little too much, if you know what i mean." was it possible to hear someone's eyebrows raising through the phone? you certainly could.

"oh...so he likes being an authority figure. i have to admit, i didn't expect nanami to be so... kinky?" you outwardly cringed at your word choice.

"wait until i tell you about his obsession with tights..."

౨ৎ...

nanami watching you strut of out of his office, tights covering your lower body, was only the beginning of his torment.

every day for the rest of the week, you walked in, with the sheer material wrapped around your legs, and the intent to kill him.

it started with you depending on him with all of your questions, though they were warranted, and ending them with an appreciative thank you, sir!

then, you began asking him if he wanted anything from the bakery- hah, as if supplying him with baked goods would get him to crack!

but each time you brought him a morning snack, you simply had to accompany it with a handwritten message on a sticky note:

'i hope you enjoy my delicious homemade treat (hehehe just kidding, i could never take credit for our bakery's work) i drew you as a cat, he's called nyanami! he's eating a croissant just like you'

'nyanami has an apple strudel today. i wasn't sure if he likes them so i got him his favourite too: a beignet. i hope you enjoy them together. P.S. if you actually don't like apple strudels i will give it to my real life cat because he definitely likes them. :3'

'i'm glad you liked the strudel. today's divine snack is my favourite, so i drew nyanami and catoru (satoru as a cat) fighting over the choux bun. happy friday sir!'

yes, friday. even though nanami deeply appreciated the daily mediocre cat drawings, friday was the worst day of the week. you were cruel, you were so, so cruel to do this to him when he'd tried so hard to remain a gentleman.

you'd handed him the choux bun, along with the note, and instead of making your exit you'd stood opposite him.

"is something wrong?"

you hummed, rocking back and forth on the heels of your shoes, "i just wanted to savour the moment of you enjoying the pastry i got you. because it's my favourite."

nanami snickered, "are you after some of my snack?"

"well if you insist! possession is nine tenth's of the law, after all. plus, i didn't get myself one today." you sat in the chair he'd pulled out for you, watching him split the bun in half.

"oh yeah? why not?" he passed you your half.

"i didn't think i wanted it that badly, but now that it's in front of me, i can't think of anything i want more." your hand, that wasn't currently holding the pastry, reached up to hold your neck, and you winced slightly, "my neck has been killing recently, i must not be sleeping properly."

"you know, i took a short massage therapy class in college once." nanami informed you.

"wow, really? i had no idea!" which of course, was a lie. satoru had already told you.

"yes, it was quite unusual for me. though it did become useful since… some old friends needed them often." he seemed to almost mutter the last part, glancing to the side of the room.

"could you give me one? it feels like someone punched me in the back of my neck.” you rolled your head around to exaggerate the pain.

“i- uh, sure. i’m a little rusty, though.” nanami stammered, caught off guard by your request.

he stood from his desk chair, moving behind you and reluctantly pushing your hair to your shoulder.

“here, i’ll tie it up so it’s out of your way.” you quickly grabbed your hair and tied it into a ponytail, and for a brief moment nanami had a carnal urge to tug at it.

“where exactly does it hurt? right here?” he pressed a thumb against the lower part of your neck, hitting the knot that formed there. you inhaled, flinching slightly which indicated to nanami he’d found the sore spot.

“i’m going to pinch the side of your neck with my fingers, and drag the skin back until i get to the ache, okay?” he explained as he did exactly that.

you sighed, partly at the relaxation of the massage, but mostly at nanami’s hand grasping at your neck.

“that… feels good.” you breathed, tilting your head downwards.

behind you, nanami focused on the pressure his hand was demonstrating, the sound of his clock ticking on the wall, anything that wasn’t how intimate this exchange was. he hadn’t touched more than your hand since that one night, and now he had his fingers kneading into your skin, he felt like his morals were crumbling before his very eyes.

“is it working?” his voice betrayed him, the words sounding hoarse and breathless.

“mm… definitely. your hands feel amazing.” you murmured, affecting nanami in precisely the way you’d hoped. you heard him exhale quietly, almost like he was shuddering.

though you couldn’t see, nanami’s eyes were fluttering out of his control, as they watched the way you squirmed at his touch. bringing his other hand upwards to your neck, he pressed both thumbs onto the knot in your muscle, holding them down and circling them to massage the knot.

a whine unintentionally slipped past your lips. this was all part of the plan satoru had devised, but you weren’t expecting nanami to be this good with his hands…

“right there, sir… that’s where i feel it the most.”

…and that’s how nanami ended up inside of a bathroom cubicle, tugging at his aching cock to the thought of you.

he felt like a perverted man, he had never felt so strongly for a woman to commit such a depraved act.

sliding his hand up and down the length, he bucked his hips into nothing, wishing, praying, begging that he could be inside of you.

all week long, you had tortured him, tempted him, and he made such an effort to defy his own cravings. but like a phantom, you kept appearing and reeling him in.

throwing his head back, his eyebrows furrowed, nanami thought only of you.

your hands, easily engulfed by his. would they even cover his dick? you’d have to use two. would you slowly drag your hands up and down, and up, and down, teasing him? would you thumb at the slit, circling around it just as he had done to your neck?

oh god, and your mouth. he’d kill to watch you struggle, parting your lips, trying to fit him inside.

and your damn eyes. staring at him from below, always pleading with him for something he wasn’t even sure of. your eyes, boring into his, while he thrusted into your tight warmth.

your eyes, rolling back as he filled you up.

“oh, my god…” he inhaled through gritted teeth, so close to release.

come for me… sir.

nanami’s mouth gaped open as his cock twitched, spurting his hot seed into the bunched up tissue in his hand.

and as he caught his breath, nanami kento was overcome with sick guilt.

hours later, satoru made a visit to your department during lunch break.

“hey, you. how’s it going today?” he squatted down beside you casually as you opened up the boxed lunch you had prepared this morning.

“okay, i think? he’s been holed up in his office all morning, i’ve barely seen him since earlier.” you whispered tentatively.

“i would have loved to be a fly on the wall when that went down.” satoru smirked, stealing an apple slice from your container.

you swatted his hand away, “he’s unsurprisingly amazing at massages. he was acting kind of weird after it was over though, apparently there was an emergency board meeting?”

“what? i wasn’t called to that–” satoru stopped mid crunch of his apple, “ohhhh. what a naughty man he is.” satoru came to some realisation that you had yet to find.

“wait, tell me! what do you mean ohhhh?” you mimicked.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that. anyway, are you ready for phase three of operation: get nanami laid?” he ruffled your hair, to your dismay, and stood upright.

“i told you not to call it that. but yes, go ahead.” you fixed your hair, lifting up the compact mirror from your desk and checking your appearance.

“okay, say ‘toru!”

click!

[image attachment]

satoru: lunch break with my new favourite co-worker :p

shoko: ew

she’s not even from your department

satoru: so? she’s the only one who calls me satoru which means i like her more than you two

nanami: why are you touching her shoulder?

shoko: stop trying to get all alpha male with each other

besides i met her first which means she’s my favourite

satoru: EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE

nanami: shut up, gojo.

are you still in my department? don’t you have more important things to do? for instance, your job?

satoru: nuh uh

it’s my break

i might take her to that bakery across the street, i’ve heard it’s really good

nanami: absolutely not. she’s not going anywhere with you.

shoko: did i lace my cigarettes with crack? what’s going on

satoru: i don’t remember asking for your permission nanamin

she told me she wants to go to pick something up for ryo

shoko: who the fuck is that

nanami: why do you know the name of her cat?

satoru: because i’ve met ryoki before and she loves me?

i mean duh ;p

shoko: okay fine no one explain anything to me then

nanami has sent you a message!

nanami: good afternoon. if you’re free, i’d like to visit the animal adoption agency you mentioned at the end of the day.

you: really? that’s great! let me double check my calendar

nanami: of course, if you’re not available i’ll wait until you can accompany me.

you: i’m in! when do you finish work today?

nanami: i haven’t got any extra work to complete, so hopefully right on time.

you: perfect, i can’t wait!

“am i amazing or what?” satoru smiled self-assuredly after you showed him the messages between yourself and nanami.

“i don’t want to inflate your ego any further, but yes. yes you are.” you shared a high five.

“all he has to do now is adopt a kitty and pounce on yours.”

“way to ruin a moment, gojo.” you deadpanned.

“hey! it’s satoru to you.”

౨ৎ…!

author’s note: i don’t know why my chapters start off so strong and then slowly go downhill writing wise. it’s the burnout i whisper to myself. anyway this was a chapter. it’s the first time i’ve written anything remotely smutty for this series, but of course it will NOT be the last. i hope it gives you a taste of what’s to come (eyebrow raising emoji)

i wish i could write this entire story in one day but alas my brain power is not what it used to be. i do however, have a solid plan for how i want it to end, and also some sweet moments (and angsty, too) in between.

i want to thank everyone for their patience with this story so far, i know it takes me a while to release chapters but it’s because my job SUCKS so i never have any time to be creative. plus, i want this to be perfect.

with that being said, see you next chapter!

(meow.)

© SUTAAGAARU 2024. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.

taglist: @higurumapet @opheliaas-stuff @diogodxlot @socialanxietyvictim @delirious-donna @zombriesworld @aomi04 @topiatwinss @doyouevenshipit @levin4nami

[rubywolf0201]

One last post on Matakara before I log off so that I don’t have to be reminded of his predicament in next episode but I sort of noticed how a lot of Matakara’s mannerisms is just him trying to emulate Mitsukuni.

Like look at Matakara’s initial appearance when he was just 13-14 years old:

Then you see his current appearance at 15-16:

And then you compared it to Mitsukuni:

I think it’s a neat detail to show how Matakara is trying to be like his brother in many ways such as cutting his long, fluffy hair and styling the fringe to be similar to Mitsukuni’s but still keeping the fluffy hair at the back, the way he build himself to be tall and imposing despite being just around 15–16 years old, the ear piercing on the similar spot (though it could be that both brothers want matching piercings with one another).

Like it seems to me that it is more or less foreshadows how Matakara isn’t as emotionally mature as the audience thinks he is and that part of Matakara trying to copy his older brother both in physical appearance and demeanour is just him trying to keep the spirit of Mitsukuni alive in an emotional sense.

[warwickroyals]

Sunderland's Royal Jewel Vault (16/∞) ♛

↬ The Boucheron Lattice Tiara

Another giant in the royal family's treasure trove, the Lattice Tiara, also known as the Gordon Tiara, takes some serious experience to pull off. Made by Boucheron in the early 20th century, the tiara wasn't originally of royal origin, passing from jewelry box to jewelry box for the better part of forty years. Eventually, in 1941, it was scooped up by the Hon. Mrs. Martha Gordon, a society hostess who was a friend of King James II and Queen Katherine, then the newlywed Duke and Duchess of Woodbine. The Gordons were spectacular hosts, but by the early 60s the couple had racked up a significant amount of debt, fuelled by Mrs. Gordon's expensive taste in clothes and her husband's gambling addiction. These debts eventually caused the couple to be evicted from their West Warwick penthouse, with several of their belongings being sold or repossessed. To alleviate their friends' hardships, James and Katherine purchased several pieces of expensive jewelry from the couple. The idiocy of Mrs and Mr Gordon is something to behold. Dowager Queen Anne wrote in her diary around the time of purchase. I warned Jimmmie against such an outrageous purchase, but he was adamant. Kitten and I look after our friends, he said. One wonders what those two have that's worth such a pretty penny! It's better not to indebt yourself to your inferiors, but I suppose I'm close-minded in my old age. Jim said that, too. To this day the full extent of the purchase is unknown, but it is said to have included a diamond necklace, a pair of diamond chandelier earrings, a sapphire necklace, a gaudy fringe necklace, and at least two tiaras. It was the Boucheron tiara, with its delicate lattice patterning that became a favourite of Queen Katherine. I admit, I've coveted this [tiara] for years [. . .] It never suited Martha's head, anyway. — Queen Katherine in a private letter, spring circa 1962 For the remainder of her life, Katherine wore the lattice tiara consistently. Even after her husband died in 1970, she continued to sport the tiara at high-profile events. The tiara was an interesting part of Katherine's tiara evolution, showcasing how the Queen graduated from small, light-weight tiaras, to heftier, more dramatic pieces. When Katherine died in 2018, it was inherited by her son, King Louis V, and in 2026, it was worn by Tatiana, Princess of Danforth for the first time. The upgrade in jewelry, despite the princess's widowhood, was viewed as a reaffirmation of her status and role as the mother of the future sovereign.

HM Queen Katherine wears the Gordon tiara at the George League Gala concert on April 25, 1970. She pairs the tiara with teardrop earrings also acquired in the 1962 Gordon Purchase and Queen Matilda Mary's Wedding Necklace

HRH Tatiana, Princess of Danforth wears the Gordon tiara at a banquet for international heads of government on May 23, 2027. She also wears the Gordon fringe necklace. The banquet was attended by over 5000 delegates.

[kermit-ydafrog]

This is a Teenager Y/N x Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Story!

Enjoy!

Skintone = (S/t)

Eye Color = (E/c)

Hair Color = (H/c)

Hair Length = (H/l)

Hairstyle = (H/s)

Birth Country = (B/c)

Vacation Country = (V/c)

Height = (H)

Age = (A)

9 Deadly Rings

It was another night at the dorms of 9 kids who we're best friends since they we're young

They we're having a sleepover tonight before there other friends depart for there birth country

It was 2 Days before they all leave for there little vacation at there birth country

Y/N: I am going to miss you guys so much!

Y/N is a (M/F/They) and is (Age) and is wearing a Grey Hoodie, Black Pants, Grey and White Rubber Shoes and a Backward Cap

Y/N skin is (S/t) while there hair is (H/l) (H/s) and is color (H/c) and there height is (H)

Y/N is going back to there home country at (B/c) as they leave the Philippines which is where they we're living because there (Parent) is a Filipino while there other (2nd Parent) is from (B/c) and wanna have there vacation there to meet there other relatives

Zara: Yeah same here dude but hey let's make sure the we get to text each other once the day is done so we can keep each other updated

Zara is a 16 year old female who is wearing a Black hoodie with a white shirt underneath, Grey Checkered Pants, Black and White Fila Shoes

She is also 4'10 in height, Has Brown Apple Cut Hairstyle, Warm Beige Colored Skintone and Dark Brown Eyes

Zara is living in the Philippines and so she will be staying behind alongside with her younger Brother John

John: Agree but hey have a nice vacation guys and Ofcourse stay safe

John is 15 year old Male one of Zara's siblings who is always seen wearing Black and Green Shirt with an opened Blue Jacket, Black Shorts and Blue sandals

John's height is 5'3, Has a Black Long fringe Hairstyle, Golden Skin, Dark Brown Eyes

Miko: Welp I guess I have to see you guys the next 3 Months!

Miko said Happily

Miko is a 16 year old female but her pronounce is They/Them, They are always seen with a dark red shirt with Blue jeans and black boots

Miko's height 5'1 have Black long low ponytailed hairstyle, Honey skintone, Black eyes

Leiz: I'm gonna leave this DAMN country with STYLE BITCHES!

Leiz said in her sassy attitude as always

Leiz is a 16 year old sassy Female who wears a White tank top with long sleeves that only reveals her shoulders, Blue Leather Short, Cyan Heels and is seen wearing Black glasses

Leiz's full name is Leizanne but it was shortened to Leiz, Her height is 5'1 and has black long loose wavy hair, light brown eyes and Warm Ivory Skin tone

In the background there you could see Judas having her head on Kurt's left shoulder crying softly...

Judas: I'm going to miss you so much

She cries and sniffles...

Kurt: Don't worry my angel...will see each other soon and don't forget that I will always call and text you everyday, night, before and after breakfast, lunch, afternoon break and dinner I promise

He said softly holding her and rubbing his hand on Judas's back softly

(We always have that one friend with a partner in the friend group even if there still like 14-16 👍)

Judas(Female) and Kurt(Male) are both 16 years old(Kurt being older by 3 Months, They both have Black short hair, Judas has an Apple cut medium hair that went to her neck while Kurt has a Quiff hairstyle

Judas has a Pale Ivory Skintone, Freckles and her height is 5'1

Judas is also wearing a Falu Red Sweater, Dark Blue Leather Jeans, She also has a yellow spring duck hair pin, wears rose pink crocks and also has Kurt's Black Hoodie wrapped around her waist

Kurt has Natural Warm Undertone Skin and his height is 5'3

Kurt is always seen with a white shirt underneath a Red unzipped Jacket, black pants and Blue Nike's Brand shoes

Nathasia: Sanaol(Slang word for "I wish everyone has one)

Nathasia's Height is 4'8, She's a 17 years old Female, She also has a Golden Warm Undertone Skintone, Black medium puffy apple cut hairstyle and Dark Brown eyes

Nathasia is always seen wearing a Brown Sweater with a Middle Finger imprinted on it saying "Fuck you" which was gifted by Zara from Nathasia's Birthday, She is also wearing a Black Leather Pants and black and White sneakers

And lastly there was a girl who is named Aira at the circle that the kids made on the floor around there only purple circled carpet

Aira is a Shy 16 year old Female the youngest of the group by months and her height being 5'0

Aira has a Porcelain Cool Undertone Skin color, Dark Brown Eyes, A black Curly medium hair in a low braided style and is wearing a a white long sleeve sweater, light blue leather Jeans, Plum colored Ballet shoes with a bow on the tip of it, and lastly a pink bow hair pin on her head

==============================================================

And this is where the story starts...

==============================================================

Emojis:

⚪Y/N⚪

🟠Leiz🟠

🟡Aira🟡

🔴Miko🔴

⚫Nathasia⚫

🟢Zara🟢

🚫John🚫

🟣Judas🟣

🔵Kurt🔵

==============================================================

"The Risk Takers/Chapter 1"

==============================================================

The kids laugh as they talk and talk, tell jokes, be goofy and cuss at times or talk dirty at times too and just laugh it off

🟠Leiz🟠: And I was like BITCH get to fucking ugly ass face out of mine if not I'll call the 1950's police to take back there old junk

🟢Zara🟢: Damn Bruh, was that really necessary???

She laughs

🔵Kurt🔵: Leiz your so fucking cold

He said jokingly

🟠Leiz🟠: Don't hate the Player, Hate the Game

⚪Y/N⚪: Yeah well I hate (Unlike Game), I think it's shit and unoriginal

Almost everyone look at Y/N and then suddenly...

🟠Leiz🟠: I didn't say literally

Leiz roll her eyes playfully and everyone chuckles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The friend group Continues to talk until...

🟢Zara🟢: So...what countries we're guys born in again? And so where are you guys going to have a vacation to?

⚪Y/N⚪: Well I'm going back to my home country at (B/c) for awhile and then soon enough I'm going to (V/c) for maybe...2 months I think?

🟠Leiz🟠: My Birth country is at England and I'm going to have a vacation at Japan~!

What about you Aira?

She said smirking while swinging her hair to the side

🟡Aira🟡: I'm from Italy and I'm going to France for my Uncle's Wedding

🟢Zara🟢: Tell your Uncle I said "congrats!"

⚪Y/N⚪: What about you Miko?

🔴Miko🔴: Well I'm from South Korea and I'm going to Japan to see the Cherry Blossom Trees!!! Eeekkk!!!

She said excitedly

🟣Judas🟣: Sanaol, Well I'm going back to Mexico to visit some family members and will be going to America for a vacation

🔵Kurt🔵: I'm having a vacation at South Africa and also I'm literally born here in the Philippines can't you tell?

🚫John🚫: Why does that sound so racist???

🔵Kurt🔵: Come to think of it, it kind of is oof, sorry

He said casually after realizing what he just said

⚫Nathasia⚫: Well I'm born at England but when I turned 3 I was moved here in the Philippines because if my mom and then soon enough met my Bestie

She said while nudging her elbow to Zara

🟢Zara🟢: You got that right

⚫Nathasia⚫: And I'm going to be having my Vacay at USA also at Washington

🟣Judas🟣: I guess me and Nathasia are going to have a full on 2 girls night

Everyone complain saying "That's so unfair" or "Favouritism much?" In all teasing way making Y/N laugh at how almost everyone except Aira gang up on Nathasia and Judas

⚪Y/N⚪: What about you Zara? John?

Everyone turned to the Siblings

🟢Zara🟢: Well we're born here in the Philippines and our parents we're planning to go to Japan to see the Cherry Blossom Trees too!

She exclaimed happily

🔴Miko🔴: Oh my gosh same! Let's go!

⚪Y/N⚪: Aww that's so cute! A little Big Brother and Younger sister bonding time

🟢Zara🟢: Dude...I'm older than him...JUST BECAUSE HIS TALLER THAN ME DOESN'T MEAN IM THE YOUNGEST!

She squeeled like a Chihuahua

🚫John🚫: Shut the fuck up

He bonk Zara's head

Your so loud

🟢Zara🟢: Oh fuck you

⚪Y/N⚪: When are you guys even born?

🟢Zara🟢: Dec 14

🚫John🚫: April 22 and 2 years younger

⚪Y/N⚪: Oooh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After awhile the kids got bored and decided to play a game which they made themselves which they called "The Grey Acts" it sound stupid but they prefer it that way especially the fact they called there gang "The Risk Takers" they're really bad at making group names

The Game is simple...

All they have to do is go and sit down in a circle around there round purple Carpet in the middle of there room...

They pick a fandom they like and pick a character and each of them start to write an event of some sort on a paper and put it in a hat and shuffle it

In each round one of them will grab one paper in the hat and everyone in the circle will roleplay that even in the character they choose

And Ofcourse everyone gets a turn to grab a paper themselves after each round

This time they all decided to go for the 7 Deadly sins but they added Heaven in it so it could be more interesting

They all then vote each other to be who is who

Aira was immediately voted for Heaven/Angel because she was mostly to be the mother or well caretaker of the whole bunch

Y/N and Zara was Pride even though this is way too humble for there own damn good and just shows everyone that they should be themselves and don't care about what other people think badly of you because you are just ✨💕AMAZING💕✨

John was Wrath when even though he has patience to not go on and turn on Hulk mode and destroy something and everything in his path by giving them a 3 chances before he blows a fuse

Judas was Gluttony when she's really have an amazing schedule of her diet...Talk about early dieting at this age

Kurt was Greed when this motherfucker is spoiling his girlfriend 24/7 and the fact he always put some of his change in charity boxes like bruh chill we get it your rich don't have to flex on us that you get to put Php100 on the fucking charity box 😭 butt then again his really generous

Nathasia was Envy when she's way too much chill with what she has to the point she can get creative with it like the dude uses there plastic bottles as vases and even uses some old recyclable newspapers to make a damn good Cosplay mask to the point she sells those damn stuff at school for Php15-Php20

Leiz was Lust because the girls is a dirty minded bitch which everyone just agreed and Leiz herself too...proud even but she Ofcourse only do that with her close friends just to goof off but when it comes to strangers she is shy and if someone did that to her she won't hesitate to slapped them

Miko was Sloth when the dude always put her assignments, projects, quizzes, exams and Chores first before even hanging out with them like bruh Sanaol

And so the kids then formed a circle around there Round Purple Carpet and put there shoelaces strings in a line in between each of them except Y/N and Zara who we're both are roleplaying as Pride

The group then decided to put and pulled out a book they found at the beach last month ago from there field trip in the middle to be more creepy and edgy or what not for the game

The book was old, rusty and had this some kind oval shaped mirror in the middle of it with metal scale of a snakes surrounding it and the book itself as aesthetic designs of it

The containment of the Book has ripped pages, burnt pages and is written in a strange Language which the group hought was a book made by a Tiktoker for someone to find it and keep it as a souvenir or what not for themselves

The group had decided to pull an all nighter since there was no classes tomorrow since it's the weekends

And so then...

The Game Begins...

===============================

===============================

End Of Chapter 1...

==============================================================

That's all for now! :D

I wanna see if anyone likes it before I continue this series :b

Thank you for reading in advance! 💕✨

[erikiara80]

March 22nd and all the birthday references in ST

Will's birthday has always been important.

A birthday mug in episode 1

Same mug in Mike's basement. We see it in scenes with El in S1 and Will in S2. Yeah, I think birthdaygate could be about her, too. Will is the only character whose birthday was used to literally save him and the whole town. And we've seen El's birth and birth certificate, but we still don't know when she was born? Strange

The I forgot your birthday card in Will's room in S1

But in S2 we only see it when Joyce looks at the Will the Wise drawing. In all the other shots the card is not there, and the drawing is on another wall. This could be a hint at different timelines (of a timeloop?) More screenshots here

Basically, I have two theories about Will's birthday: either people really forgot it in S4, or the Will who was born on March 22 is the brown-eyed Will in the Missing poster, in the timeline we see in the shed scene, and not the hazel-eyed Will we see in the rest of the show. Maybe they hid the truth in plain sight, they let people believe that his eyes were different because he was possessed. But then in S3 they show that Billy's eye color never changes (here) Can't wait to see what this means

No birthday card in these shots

Lesbianmindflayer found a video posted on the official IG account in August 2017. At the time, they had already filmed S2, they knew there was an important scene about Will's birthday, so why posting the wrong date? Is it actually a mistake, or that's really his birthday in another timeline? We'll see!

The amazing shed scene. One of my favorite! Joyce talks about Will's 8th birthday. That was in 1979, the year of the massacre. She also mentions his rainbowship, a hint at his queerness, but also a reference to the lab. And I think there's a connection to the "rainbow rocket" near Creel House, and the ship of Brenner's father, who was involved with Project Rainbow, and the first man to wind up in Dimension X. This scene is so important!

Will drawing a spaceship could also be a parallel to Olivia Dunham (Fringe), who drew what she saw in another universe. A Zeppelin

Olivia's drawing (Byler-Polivia parallel and Subject 13)

3x03. Happy Birthday and '76 on the poster. The lifeguard is talking to El and Max here. My theory about what this could mean and what might have happened in 1976 here and here

The original title of episode 3x06 was The Birthday. There is no birthday in that episode, but after the intro, the song that plays is Stand up and Meet your brother, and then El meets the Mind Flayer/Vecna (as a lab kid, Henry is kinda her brother), who is possessing a boy named William. A surfer boy.

Episode 3x08, posters of Firestarter and Sixteen Candles. Will is associated with fire, and in Sixteen Candles a girl hopeful thar her 16th birthday is the beginning of a great year, is shocked when her family forgets it because her sister is getting married the next day.

Sixteen Candles and a boy's 16th birthday are also mentioned in S4, and it is likely that S5 is set in 1987, after the time-jump, when Will is 16.

S4. There are so many mentions of birthdays in this season, it's crazy to think that the writers forgot Will's birthday.

Mentions of birthday and stolen thoughts in the opening scene.

Birthday party at Rink-o-mania. I could be wrong, but it looks like a party for two people, to me. And there's a hidden reference to the massacre. The game Asteroids was released in 1979 (here)

The scene that made many people believe that the writers forgot Will's birthday.

March 22. The Rink-o-mania scene is a parallel to the lab scenes, Asteroids was released in 1979, and the day of the massacre El remembered her birth. Maybe a hint that her birthday is also on March 22?

They call her little baby, and two of the bullies are twins.

Murray says that a one-year-old won't remember their birthday

Also, the wallpaper reminds me of these birds we see in his house, when Alexei explains how the two keys open a gate

Murray says that his "son" is almost 16

Mention of Sixteen Candles

Mike's Happy Birthday mug

At Suzie's, Will mentions Dustin's birthday

Yeah, I think something will happen to Will in 1987, when he's 16. And it won't be funny, lol. But he'll get his happy ending.

Happy birthday, Will!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me Final🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - get some tissues..

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 24

In time, it became evident that he was letting his health go. His behavior at times was deliberately self-destructive. On a few occasions he’d say, “I’ll never make it much beyond forty.” We’ve all made such statements, but with Matt the thought was deep-seated and chronic. Mary Lou had died at forty-two and, like Mary Lou, he wanted to go before his father, sensing that he himself couldn’t bear another loss.

From time to time, I’d hear that he had checked into the hospital. Concerned, I’d call, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he’d say, laughing a little to show me it was all a big joke. “I just need a little rest, Sattnin.” Then I realized he’d gone to the hospital for the same reason he had during his Army days. It was his way of taking a little rest; he needed to get out of Graceland and away from all the pressures.

By 1976 everyone was becoming alarmed over his mental state as well as his physical appearance. His face was bloated, his body unnaturally heavy. The more people tried to talk to him about this, the more insistent he became that everything was all right.

The Colonel was even concerned about Matt’s actions while onstage. Matt started forgetting lyrics and resorting to sheet music. He was acting erratic by ignoring the audience and playing to the band. A few shows were canceled and no one could predict whether or not he’d appear onstage.

In the absence of any significant professional challenge, Matt created his own real-life dramas. His fascination with guns was now an obsession. He became paranoid over death threats, and from his association with the Boston local police, he had access to lists of local drug pushers. He felt he personally should get them off the streets. Phoning me late one evening, he said, “y/nn, you have anyone you want taken care of? Strictly top secret.”

The style, grace, and pride that for the past eight years had been the hallmark of a Sturniolo live performance now bordered on self-parody. Frustrated with the lack of challenge of each passing show, Matt resorted to sheer flamboyance, symbolized by his costumes, each more elaborate than the one before, loaded with an overabundance of fake stones, studs, and fringes. There were voluminous capes and cumbersome belts to match. He was performing in garb that added thirty-five pounds to his weight. It was as if he were determined to upstage himself instead of relying on his raw talent.

There were times in his final year that he would be criticized on how he related to his audience. Some people observed that he joked around with his band too much and left his songs unfinished. Once Matt even complained from the stage about “bad management” at the hotel, citing a certain employee at the Hilton who was being fired. The following day Colonel William asked Matt to stick to his own business—entertaining—and let the hotel handle its help. James tended to take Matt’s side on this as on every issue, but the Colonel had a right to be concerned.

One of the guys actually told Matt he was beginning to look more like a Liberace act in the hope that Matt would take the hint and come to his senses and rely on just his talent. But from the beginning Matt had insisted: “I just want to read positive reviews. I don’t want to hear any negativity.” As a teenager he’d been shielded by Mary Lou from criticism. When she’d filled her albums and scrapbooks, she’d used only the favorable clippings. If he hadn’t been so sheltered, he might have had a better perspective on his career. At least he’d have been aware of what was being written about him and possibly used some of the comments constructively.

No matter what he did, his fans still cheered him on. They were faithful to him through good performances and bad, and eventually their love was the only real gratification he received. They endorsed everything he did. Maybe as long as he was getting their cheers, he thought he was doing fine. But in fact Colonel William was right when he told Matt that he’d better get himself straightened out or his whole career would go down the drain.

His personal life was not helping the situation. He was seeing Ginger Alden, who was twenty years his junior, and the difference in their ages was becoming more and more of a problem. He’d say, “I’m tired of raising kids. I don’t have the patience to go through it all over again.” There were conflicts—many. Ginger did not like touring, one-night stands. She was close to her family and didn’t want to leave them. Matt tried bringing half her family with them, but that only created other problems. “She spends more time with her sister and mother than she does with me,” he complained.

In discussing his dilemma, I asked, “Do you think you can really live with just one woman?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now more than ever. I know I’ve done some stupid things, but the stupidest was not realizing what I had until I lost it. I want my family back.”

I wondered if there was some way we could make it work. “Maybe it was just too early in life for us, Sattnin,” I said. “Maybe one day there will be a time for us.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “When I’m seventy and you’re sixty. We’ll both be so old we’ll look really silly, racing around in golf carts.”

In April 1977 Matt fell ill and had to cancel his tour and return home to Graceland. Charlotte and I were there visiting Dodger. He called me up to his room. He did not look himself; his face and body were bloated. He was wearing pajamas, which he seemed to prefer these days when at home. He held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers and told me there was something he wanted me to read. His curiosity for answers had not abated. He was still searching for his purpose in life, still feeling he had not found his calling. If he had found a cause to espouse, whether a drugless society or world peace, he would have had the role he sought in life. His generosity was evidence of this part of his nature—his legendary penchant for giving, even to the countless people he didn’t know.

But he never found a crusade to pull him out of his cloistered world, a discipline strong enough to counter his escape into drugs. That night he read to me, searching for answers, just as he had done the year before and the year before that and the years before that.

It was August 16, 1977, overcast and dreary, not a typical Southern California day. When I walked outside, there was a stillness, an unnatural calm in the air that I have not experienced since. I almost went back into the house, unable to shake my uneasiness. I had a meeting that morning and by noon I was racing to meet my sister Michelle. On my way into Hollywood I noticed the atmosphere had not changed. It still seemed unusually silent and depressing and it had begun to drizzle. As I drove down Melrose Avenue, I saw Michelle standing on the corner, a look of concern on her face. “y/nn, I just got a call from Dad,” she said as I pulled up. “Nate’s been trying to reach you. It’s something about Matt in the hospital.” Nate Doe was Matt’s road manager and right-hand man. I froze. If he was trying to reach me, something must be terribly wrong. I told Michelle to take her car and quickly follow me home. the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.

I thought about our daughter, Charlotte, who was visiting Matt at Graceland and was supposed to come home that very day. Oh God, I prayed. Please let everything be all right. Don’t let anything happen, please, dear God.

I ran every red light and nearly hit a dozen cars. At last, I reached home, and as I swerved down the driveway, I could hear the phone ringing from inside the house. Please don’t hang up, I prayed, jumping out of the car and running toward the door. “I’m coming,” I yelled. I tried to get my key in the lock, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally I got into the house, grabbed the receiver, and yelled, “Hello, hello?”

All I could hear was the hum of a longdistance line, then a stricken, faint voice, “y/nn. It’s Nate.”

“What’s happened, Nate?”

“It’s Matt.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“y/nn, he’s dead.”

“Nate, don’t tell me that. Please!”

“We’ve lost him.”

“No. NO!” I begged him to take back his words. Instead, he was silent. “We’ve lost him—” His voice broke and we both began to cry. “Nate, where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Grandma.”

“Thank God. Nate, send a plane for me, please. And hurry. I want to come home.”

As I hung up, Michelle and Mother, who had just arrived, embraced me and we cried in each other’s arms. Within minutes the phone rang again. For a moment I hoped for a miracle; they were calling me back to tell me that Matt was still alive, that it was all right, that it had all been a bad dream.

But there were no miracles. “Mommy, Mommy,” Charlotte was saying. “Something’s happened to Daddy.” “I know, Baby,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m waiting for the plane now.”

“Everybody’s crying, Mommy.”

I felt helpless. What could I say to her? I couldn’t even find words to comfort myself. I feared what she would be hearing. She didn’t yet know that he had died. All I kept saying over and over was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to stay in Grandma’s room, away from everyone.” In the background I could hear a grief-stricken James moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”

Fortunately a child’s innocence provides its own protection. Death was not yet a reality to her. She said she’d go out and play with Laura, her friend.

I hung up and walked around in a daze, still numb with shock. The news hit the media instantly. My phones did not stop ringing, with friends trying to cope with the shock, members of the family grasping for explanations, and the press demanding statements. I locked myself in the bedroom and left instructions that I would not speak to anyone, that I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to die. Love is very deceiving. Though we were divorced, Matt was still an essential part of my life. Over the last years we’d become good friends, admitting the mistakes we’d made in the past and just beginning to laugh at our shortcomings. I could not face the reality that I would never see him alive again. He had always been there for me. I depended on him, just as he depended on me. We had a bond: We’d become closer and had more understanding and patience for each other than in our married life. We had even talked of one day  . . . And now he was gone. I remembered our last phone conversation, just a few days before. His mood had been good as he talked about the twelve-day tour he was about to begin. He even laughed when he told me that, as usual, the Colonel had papered the first city they were scheduled to hit with his posters and that his records were being played constantly in advance of his arrival.

“Good old Colonel,” Matt had said. “We’ve come a long way. He’s still puttin’ out that same old stuff. It’s a wonder people are still buying it.”

I loved hearing Matt laugh, something he had been doing less and less. Just days before that last call, I’d heard that his spirits were down and he was contemplating breaking up with Ginger Alden, his girlfriend. I knew him well enough to realize that this was not an easy move for him to make. If only I’d known that would be the last time I’d talk to him, I’d have said so much more: things I wanted to say and never had, things I’d held inside me for so many years because the timing was always wrong.

He had been a part of my life for eighteen years. When we met, I had just turned fourteen. The first six months I spent with him were filled with tenderness and affection. Blinded by love, I saw none of his faults or weaknesses. He was to become the passion of my life.

He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God. Now he was gone and I felt more alone and afraid than ever in my life.

The hours went by slowly before Matt’s private plane, the Charlotte Grace, arrived. Behind closed doors I sat and waited, remembering our life together—the joy, the pain, the sadness, and the triumphs—from the very first time I heard his name.

We boarded the Charlotte Grace around nine o’clock that evening, just my parents, Michelle, Jerry Schilling, Amber Doe, and a few close friends. At first, I just sat alone, in despair. Then I went to the back of the plane, to Matt’s bedroom. I lay there, unable to believe that Matt was really dead.

I remembered the jokes Matt used to make about dying. He’d say, “It’d really take something for me to leave this earth.” Yet he wore a chain around his neck that had both a cross and a Star of David on it. He would joke about it, saying he wanted to be covered in all areas, just in case.

He’d had a fear of flying, but he never showed it. Matt never showed any of his fears. He felt he had a responsibility to make everyone else feel secure. So he gave the impression he was self-assured, because he didn’t want to let any of us down.

I thought of a time when we were on a flight home from Los Angeles. There was a lot of turbulence, and the plane was shaking badly. Everyone on board was frightened. Everyone but Matt. When I looked at him, he was smiling, and then he took my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re gonna make it.” Suddenly, I felt safe. There was a certainty about Matt. If he said it was going to be, then it was going to be that way.

The trip seemed endless. By the time we reached Boston, I was numb. We were ushered into a waiting limousine, to avoid the crush of photographers. Then we sped off to Graceland, where we were met by frantic, disbelieving faces: relatives and close friends, the maids—the same people who had been around us for so many years. I had spent most of my life with these people and seeing them now was devastating.

Most of Matt’s close family—James, Grandma, her daughters, Delta and Nash, and others—congregated in Grandma’s room, while his friends, and the guys who worked for him, were mostly gathered in the den. Everyone else seemed to just be walking in and out of the rooms, silent and solemn, glancing around in disbelief.

Charlotte was outside on the lawn, with a friend, riding around on the golf cart that her father had given her. At first I was amazed that she was able to play at a time like this, but when I talked to her, I realized that the full impact of what happened hadn’t hit her yet. She’d seen the paramedics rushing Matt away, and he was still at the hospital when I’d arrived, so Charlotte was confused.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is my daddy really gone?”

Again, I was really at a loss for words. She was our child. It was difficult enough for me to believe and confront Matt’s death myself. I just didn’t know how to tell her that she would never see her daddy again.

I nodded, then took her into my arms. We hugged and then she ran out and started riding around in her golf cart again. But now I was glad she could play. I knew it was her way of avoiding reality.

The night seemed endless. Several of us sat around the dining room table talking, and it was then that I learned the circumstances of Matt’s death. I was told that Matt had played racquetball with his cousin, Billy Smith, until four o’clock that morning, while Billy’s wife, Jo, and Matt’s girlfriend, Ginger, watched them. Then they all presumably retired for the night. But as Ginger slept, Matt stayed up to read. He called down to his Aunt Delta for some ice water and said he was having a hard time sleeping.

Matt was still reading when Ginger woke up at nine o’clock that morning, and then she went back to sleep until about 1 p.m. When she awoke, Matt was not in bed. She found him lying face down on his bathroom floor.

Ginger called downstairs, and Al Strada and Nate Doe came running up. After calling the paramedics, Nate gave Matt CPR until they arrived. As the paramedics were leaving to rush Matt to the hospital, his personal physician, “Dr. Joe,” arrived and rode in the ambulance, working on Matt all the way to Baptist Memorial. There the staff tried for another half an hour to revive Matt, but it was all futile. He was pronounced dead on arrival of heart failure. James then requested an autopsy. The body was taken to the Boston Funeral Home to be prepared for viewing in Graceland the following day.

As I sat listening to the events leading up to Matt’s last hours, I became more and more disturbed. There were so many questions. Matt was seldom left alone for any length of time.

Suddenly I knew I had to be alone. I went upstairs to Matt’s private suite, where we had spent so much of our life together. The rooms were more orderly than I’d expected. Many of his personal belongings were gone; his nightstand was bare of books.

I went into his dressing room and it was as if I could sense his living presence—his own unique scent filled the room. It was an eerie sensation.

From the dining room window I could see thousands of people out on Matt Sturniolo Boulevard waiting for the hearse that would bring his body back to Graceland. His music filled the air as radio stations throughout the nation paid tribute to the King.

Soon the casket was placed in the entrance hall and opened for viewing. I sat in Grandma’s room most of that afternoon as thousands of mourners from all over the world passed by, paying their last respects. Many wept; some men and women even fainted. Others lingered at the casket, refusing to believe it was him. He was truly loved, admired, and respected.

I waited for the right moment for Lisa and me to say goodbye. It was late that evening, and Matt had already been moved to the living room where the funeral was to be held. It was quiet; everyone had left. Together we stood over him, emotional. “You look so peaceful, Sattnin, so rested. I know you’ll find happiness and all the answers there.” Then I joked, “Just don’t cause any trouble at the Pearly Gates.” Charlotte took my hand and we placed a sterling silver bracelet depicting a mother and child’s clasped hands on his right wrist. “We’ll miss you.” I knew my life would never be the same.

Colonel came to the funeral wearing his usual baseball hat, shirt, and slacks. He disguised his emotions as best he could. Matt had been like his own son. From the old school, the Colonel was considered a coldhearted businessman, but in truth he had stayed faithful and loyal to Matt, even when his career began to slip. This day he asked James to sign a contract extending his position as Matt’s manager. He was already planning ways to keep Matt’s name before the public. He acted quickly, fearful that with Matt gone, James would be too distraught to handle correctly the many proposals and propositions that would be in the offing. James signed.

At the service, Charlotte and I sat with James and his new fiancée, Sandy Miller, Dodger, Delta, Patsy, my parents, Michelle, and the rest of the family. George Hamilton was there. Julia Ernst attended with her husband, Roger Smith. Julia expressed her sympathy so sincerely I felt a genuine bond with her.

J.D. and the Stamps Quartet sang Matt’s favorite gospel songs. James had chosen the preacher, a man who hardly knew Matt and spoke mostly of his generosity. Matt would probably have laughed and told his dad, “Couldn’t you have got a comedian or something?” Matt would not have wanted us to grieve.

After the service we drove to the cemetery, Charlotte and I riding with James and Sandy. It was three miles away and for the whole three miles both sides of the street were lined with mourners, and at the cemetery there were thousands more. The pallbearers—Jerry Schilling, Nate Doe, George Klein, Steven Wright, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Dr. Joe, and Gene Smith—carried the casket to the marble mausoleum where Matt was finally laid to rest. There we held a short ceremony and, one by one, walked to the coffin, kissed or touched it, and spoke a few words of farewell. Shortly after, for security reasons, he was moved to Graceland in the meditation garden, his final resting place.

Before Charlotte and I returned to L.A., James called me to his office. He was overwhelmed with grief. Did I know anything that would help him to understand why his son had died? He never fully accepted it, and I believed his pain led to his own death, just as Grandma later never recovered from James’s death.

When Charlotte and I returned home I was torn, trying to decide what was best for her. Many conflicting stories were coming out in the national publications and I knew these could have a lasting negative effect on her memory of her father. I decided to send her to summer camp. There she could be protected from radio, TV, and newspapers and could be with her many friends, including Debbie and Cindy, Nate and Amber’s children.

By the time she returned, I’d already made plans with Michelle for a long trip to Europe. Anything to get away from the constant reminders that filled the media.

Matt’s death made me much more aware of my own mortality and that of the people I loved. I realized I’d better start sharing a lot more with the people that I cared about, and every moment that I had with my child or my parents became more precious.

I learned from Matt, often—sadly—from his mistakes. I learned that having too many people around can sap your energies. I learned the price of trying to make everyone happy. Matt would bestow gifts on some, making others jealous, often creating rivalries and anxieties within the group. I learned to confront people, and to face issues—two steps Matt had avoided.

I learned to take charge of my life. Matt had been so young when he became a star that he was never able to handle the power and money that accompanied his fame. In many ways, he was a victim, destroyed by the very people who catered to his every want and need. He was a victim, too, of his image. His public wanted him to be perfect while the press mercilessly exaggerated his faults. He never had the chance to be human, to grow up to be a mature adult, to experience the world outside his artificial cocoon.

When Matt Sturniolo died, a little of our own lives was taken from each of us who knew and loved Matt Sturniolo, who shared in his music, his films, who followed his career. His passion was entertaining his friends and fans. His audience was his true love. And the love Matt and I shared was a deep and abiding one.

He was, and remains, the greatest influence in my life.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad endings actually kill me. i cried multiple times. thank you so much for all the love & support on this story i really enjoyed it. let me know what kind of writing you would like to see next🎀

[noroi1000]

Your Killer

Summary: A man once saved you. You admired him. Maybe you even liked him very much.... Until he took your parents away from you. So you decided that you would be his murderer.

Warnings: Murders, Blood, Death

I was asked about it.This has no paring. This doesn't have the slightest bit of fluff. This is about Geto and Reader

What is regret?

You haven't heard that word in many years. You don't regret that so many people died at your hands. 

You were already broken at 15. When you've seen too much death before your eyes. So there wasn't much that could really scare you. There was no such thing. From that day when you were 15, you saw more and more blood and tears every day. 

You saw your blood and tears. And also others.

Because you chose the path of life without regrets. You didn't regret what you did. 

You remember the smile of the teenager who saved you from the curse. You knew about the existence of curses. But you never knew how to defend yourself against them.  Your parents were cult leaders. A cult that worships non-existent beings. Beings that kill curses and protect humanity. However, they have never seen anything like this. 

A cult was created that worshiped this, thanks to which curses died.

And that smile you saw... It was so nice... The curse died... He killed it... He smiled at you and took care of you, walking you home. 

Apparently, he was 4 years older than you... But he was so tall and strong. Thanks to him, the curse died... And you started to think that curse-killing creatures were beginning to exist.

Were your parents telling the truth? Even though their cult was more important to them than you, you loved them. And you started to believe. But never to the point where you join a cult and pray for something that isn't true. 

There are no beings that are killed by curses.

These are people with such opportunities.

They are sorcerers. 

Your parents told you about it. But they say that sorcerers are not the ones they worship.

They were only home two days a week. All the other times you were alone... 

You had a phone; you had everything you could need.

And Suguru became your friend. 

Maybe he thought it was strange that he, at the age of 16 or 17, was writing to a 13-year-old girl he met by accident. But it was real. He felt sorry for you. He felt bad that you were alone all this time and that your parents had their own cult. They collect money not only for the development of their cult but also for you to have a decent life. Your family were non-sorcerers. And also, your house was in a very lonely place. You walked to school with that little backpack of yours. Geto couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone every morning and evening. That's why he gave you his number and told you to call him if you're scared.  If he were near, he would come to you. And if not, he would just talk to you and keep you company. 

But you kept talking to him all the way, for no reason.

He became your only friend. The best person in your life.

You always thought you might fall in love with him. And you were sure you felt something for him. An older boy who helps you and takes care of you...

But you still had in mind that you were a child, and he was a few years older than you. That's why you wanted to reject it...

You didn't know that the person you could have loved became someone you later wanted to kill... 

Less than three years later, you were looking at your parents' classroom. You stood by the slightly open door and watched as blood flowed from your mother's head. Or rather, where the head should be. 

Your escape lay next to her, with his throat severed.

And the person standing over them had a very familiar face. 

The same earrings. The same thin eyes. Same shape of everything. The same fringe that falls out of the bun. But his hair was longer. Not everything was tied up in a bun. And the loose clothes, along with the sandals, reminded you of the clothes your father had shown you. Traditional clothes. 

People were kneeling all around. In front of him. 

"Mom....?" you moaned softly, watching as your mother's body hadn't moved at all in several minutes. She really has no head? "Dad...?"

His body was also on the ground, and you sobbed, knowing that what you were seeing wasn't a show.

No one can play a corpse like a dead person....

Cults have money. They have people. Everything he needed...

But he didn't need you to see it. According to his thoughts, you were supposed to be home... You were supposed to be there to understand that your parents weren't coming back. And that they will never come back. 

But you shouldn't have been here that day...

But well, what happened will never happen again...

His legs moved calmly and purposefully as he walked toward you.

Paralyzed with fear, you stood there, looking at him. 

He could be about 19 now, right?

He leaned a little toward you since you were shorter than him anyway. And he smiled slightly, trying to hide his shock at finding you here.

"I am now the new owner of this cult. You do not have to worry. Nothing will happen to you. You can live here. But I have some new rules." He said, wiping a tear from your cheek. 

You couldn't even speak.

"You tell me when you're leaving. You help the cult. And together with these monkeys, you serve me, okay?"

Your hands act instinctively. And suddenly, you slapped him hard on the cheek before you ran away. And your hands hurt as much as he didn't expect them to... 

That was weird....

But these hands held the heads of his "family" a few years later.

You knew all the passages in the temple that Geto took over. You knew it all! You played there when your parents took you with them!

And you realized that he didn't know about it...

For damn years, you've been looking for anything to help you soothe the raging inferno in your heart. 

You wanted to punish your parents' murderer. 

You've been killing for years. And even though the first time you killed a man, you were vomiting and scared, the 50th time you didn't feel anything anymore. 

You won't feel anything when you kill someone who killed the most important people in your life. 

You learned to kill because you wanted revenge. You just wanted whoever did it to die too...!

You wanted your heart to be at peace... You wanted to know that you could take revenge. 

There are several of them in the temple. But you also have some people who work with you. Some of them are people serving this monster. You try to train them in hidden rooms. But you always knew it would be so difficult because of Geto's ability to control curses. Nothing has happened so far. You live and will live until you kill him. 

You won't be able to cry over the murderer who kills your family. Even if he were your friend...

It's just... You had to do it eventually...

You won't be more ready than you are now...

Peace was common in the temple.

When Geto entered through the main door, he was met with no sounds or lights. 

Everyone is either asleep or has also left. He had just returned from his "business" trip, where he collected stronger curses. 

As for the curses... It was strange that none of the curses he released to guard this place remained. They are not here. And he doesn't feel any energy curse. The curses are gone. People too. 

Why was there no servant? Why weren't they here?

Why are the only sounds sizzling coming from the main hall...?

Running there, he grabbed the handles of the heavy doors and hesitated for a moment. What will be there? What will happen if he opens the door. No... He's a sorcerer! He can't stand here like this!

Tugging on the handles, he opened the door, and his eyes widened. 

The largest room in the entire building was on fire. The walls were burning. Everything around slowly caught fire.

And in the middle of the room, where the fire didn't reach, someone was standing.

The smell of burning bodies hung in the air. Someone here died and was burned... But who?

"Ne... Suguru... How does it feel... When someone takes your loved ones away...?" A quiet voice spoke.

There was no one in the building. But there was a person standing here who was saying something?

But that voice... Was it something he knew from somewhere...?

"This is my revenge... You took away everything I loved... So I thought I'd do the same to you." saying this, the person threw something towards him.

When his eyes looked down, they widened. The head of a blonde and a brunette at his feet. Their bodies were severed...

And they probably burned...

"I know how much you loved your family and that they are the most important things in your life. Now that they are gone, you feel the same as I felt the day you killed my parents. Then I decided to work, not because I needed the money, but because I really hate you and want to kill you with my own hands."

"(y/n)...?"

"Do you even remember my name? I'm surprised." you said with no expression on your face. "I thought you would remember me as the stupid child you orphaned. You took away my parents. I'm just that monkey, right?"

"How dare you..." he growled.

You were, and you felt crazy.

Maybe you can die now. But you want to make sure you take him with you to the grave.

"Hey, let's fight, but on my terms, no curses; let's fight hand-to-hand, you can also use weapons, so? What do you say?"

Before he could respond, you laughed at his angry or terrified face.

"Oh no! Ahahaha, you can't fight anymore? Or you're too weak to do so! You're pathetic!"

While you were saying this, he shouted something. He'll probably kill you... You were in a trance to understand it.

Killing trance.

The only blow you received was a sharp punch to the stomach. You felt your skin tear there... But that was it.

You spent the next time punching him, kicking him, and throwing him.

Only to feel the sick satisfaction of seeing him on the floor with a bloody face as he stood up.

He shouldn't have any trouble with you. He is physically stronger... He knows more martial arts. But you are strong too. The whole reason he can't do anything right now is because you have no energy, and he has no idea where you're going to hit next.

"What kind of feeling is it? Physical and mental pain?" you asked in a whisper.

"You're fucking crazy! You could have killed me instead of Mimiko and Nanako!"

"If I didn't do it, you would never feel the way I felt! Now you know how it hurts when someone kills your loved ones!

There was no point in arguing... But you wanted to listen to his voice. As long as he can still talk.

Either he dies, or you both die.

"You know, when we first met, I thought you were so cool, and I admired you. I wanted to follow in your footsteps. I admit that I actually fell a little in love with you, but it never became real due to our age difference. I thought you would never be interested in me. So I just gave up, but look at us now. I feel sorry for you. The Suguru I knew was gone, his mind was lost, and he created someone I never knew...  Let's hope that in the afterlife we can repair our friendship and go back to the way things used to be: playing together, smiling, staying up late at night, talking to each other... I really would like that... But..."

His eyes closed and then opened again.

He's dizzy. You know that. Blood trickles down his forehead. You know he's tired. You want him to die. Now. Right away.

But he was close to you too. Even though you wanted to kill him, you were actually just like him...

"I'm sorry it had to be like this, but at least we can now be calm. Any last words?"

Geto looked at you weakly and smiled.

"I hate monkeys... Everything they did always seemed senseless. But I have never held any grudge against anyone who practices jujutsu, especially you. When I found out I killed your parents, I felt a little guilty, but their lives meant nothing to me, so I mostly ignored it. But whenever I saw you or passed by, your eyes would always look so lifeless, and I know it's my fault, so I don't blame you for it... Because I was the cause of it..."

You laid him on his back, and he groaned slightly.

You weren't supposed to feel emotions. But seeing him smile slightly, your lips trembled with sadness.

"I know an apology won't do anything. But... I'm sorry that I couldn't be the one who stayed close to you until the end..."

You laid on his chest, cuddling up to him. Listening to his heartbeat.

"It's okay. Just kill me... I don't feel sorry for you..."

Looking at his chest and straddling him, you placed the blade of the knife where his heart was.

If you inserted that knife slowly, he would suffer.

But you stuck it in right away, and he groaned in pain.

Only to have it all stop a moment later.

He didn't move anymore; his breathing stopped.

You killed him...

You used your fingers to mold his still lips into a smile. Just like you wanted to see him.

Only to sit for the next half hour in front of his grave you made for him.

You respect the dead... Especially those who were close to you...

A grave for Suguru as well as small monuments for his family members.

You will have them on your conscience for the rest of your life.

Because they were also a family whose lives were taken by a merciless murderer.

And for years, you could only pray and remember what happened between you.

Every day, a prayer is held at his grave.

Because maybe that will ensure that you will meet him after you die.

"Ironically, I think in a way I followed in your footsteps; I was a good person growing up, but unfortunately, you corrupted me and I turned into a killer, and I too have a family similar to yours because our biological ones are dead, but we are still quietly different. The old you, before you became a killer, would be so angry and disappointed with me, wouldn't you? You really hate me, do you?" you laughed, looking at the flowers you planted nearby. White and black lilies. For him.

You felt tears pushing into your eyes.

Even after you managed to get your revenge, why can't you stand it three years after his death?

You felt as if someone put a hand on your shoulder and then hugged you.

"I do not hate you." You had the impression that someone said. However, when you looked there, there was no one there.

No sound. You just heard your phone ring before you answered.

You looked around for anything.

To suddenly ignore what the person on the phone was saying to you. Because sitting on the decorated tombstone was Suguru.

He waved his hand at you with a smile. Ignoring your friend's calls over the phone, you stared at his slightly transparent figure. Tears began to flow from your eyes, and you held back loud sobs.

You closed your eyes for a moment, smiling for him.

To later see that he is no longer there.

Disappeared...

He doesn't hate you....

He doesn't hate his killer...

You could go home in peace.

@yukiji7w7

@weebotaku21; @yihona-san06; @mikkies; @raysheil; @dreeamiea; @safaia-47; @porridgesblog; @weebnk-popper; @mc-reborn; @witchbybirth; @starlightanyaaa

[zhakyria]

The Mahz Twins

Mahz'ahki'elhn and Mahz'enki'oriah, identical twin siblings separated at the age of 5. Zahkiel was stolen away by the Star Cabal and raised as a force using assassin. Zenkio was hidden away by what remained of their family on the fringes of Chiss space. They were born with the Sight as well, and their parents feared they would be taken away. You see, the Mahz family remember the time before the Civil War, they knew about the sky-walkers, they had at one time helped to train them, long before when they were still part of House Zhoria, back when the children were allowed to be children, and grow, and be loved by their families, before superstition and fear took hold and changed it all. It was their greatest secret. They taught Zenkio as best they could, taught them how to hide what they were, but it wasn't enough to protect them from the Grysk. They were captured at the age of 16 and spent the next 10 years forced to navigate for them until they were rescued by the Coalition.

Zahkiel meanwhile had their memories buried and they were forged into a weapon for the Cabal. Their mission, to protect it from anyone who got too close to the truth. Anyone that would risk the Cabal's exposure. That is until they meets a Twi'lek Cipher Agent and old memories are dredged to the surface.

Art by the amazing @psychededoodle.

[moranice-solvej]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Thank you for the tag, @rifle-yes <3

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Got introduced to fanfic through an old forum dedicated to a TV-show I was low-key obsessed with as a teen all the way back in 2008. Around the same time I started to get an urge to express myself in writing as I was an avid reader and always had a vivid imagination, so the sheer fact that people just wrote stories to celebrate their favorite stories captivated me.

Since then, there were many attemps to write fanfic and original works alike, very few completed, and only my obsession with Rogue One that started after watching the movie and reading the novelization had put me on the path of publishing my writing and finally being able to complete writing projects.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Started in a TV-fandom a long time ago, but never had anything I wanted to publish, so mentally I don't even count it. None of those scraps of written down ideas remain; I deleted them and never once looked back. That leaves Rogue One and technically Star Wars as my sole writing fandom. I dearly love many other shows and movies and games, but none of them make me want to write in their universes.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Technically 16 years. Yes, comprehending this number makes me terrified.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I used to read tons of fic before I came back to writing in earnest. Now most of my free time goes into writing.

In addition to that I have ran into a loathesome problem of not being able to find stories that I'd love to read. The ceiling has gotten too high. Now that I can finally shape the kinds of stories I want to read to life, I crave more stories with such premises, themes, writing styles, and character archetypes, and these days I struggle to find them in fanfic and in original books for that matter. My gremlin brain simply cannot connect to the vast majority of tropes that dominate modern-day fandom and culture. :(

Thus, I'm firmly in the mode of be-the-change-you-want-to-be-in-the-world and producing stories for myself to satisfy that need. Even if it routinely takes me over a year, usually two to finish a single story with a monster wordcount and create something I can one day re-read with glee.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I am now able to move an idea from a general concept and a set of pivotal scenes to a fully-fleshed out story and actually finish it. This used to be my achilles heel for ages and it feels mightily gratifying to finally get rid of it.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Origins of blood transfusions in human history. Plus a large variety of niche questions of when thing a or thing b was first invented. Most of the times the setting of my current writing project allows me to disregard our reality and wing it for the sake of the vibes or plot, but I still like to research what we as a species develop and when to try and create a somewhat believable ancient fictional world without modern technology.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I have a soft spot for readers who pick on teeny-tiny details of my writing and show their appreciation for it. I end up with monstrous word counts because I'm an extremely context- and detail-oriented writer, and knowing that my passion for it is noticed and enjoyed brings me joy in return.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

My current project centers around a warrior woman in her mid- to late forties who makes peace with her trauma of motherhood and loss, finds new friends and love and new home, defies her nation's traditions and becomes the force of change for her people that will bring them out of stubborn isolation and little by little shatter their callousness and mold it into empathy.

I am well aware that the sole audience of this story is myself and my best friend whom I'm lucky to have along for the ride, but it has took over my heart and it will not let go until I finally bring this epic saga to a close.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I am simply incapable of writing a traditional short story. Every one-shot I ever made was a stepping stone in a larger verse, and even so the smallest one is over 8k words. Anytime I try to write something small, I either need to put it down because it gets out of hand, or I need to finish it and by that time it grows into a monster.

My last attempt to write a short story within a story has spawned an epic saga that currently sits at roughly 380.000k words and will likely end up over 500.000k words when I'm finally done with it.

10. What is the easiest type?

Monster-sized epics. I think my creative brain cannot function in any other way but go-big-or-go-home.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I've used MS Word for writing ever since I got my first laptop and keep at it. Started using Scrivener lately for establishing character sheets and writing down my notes.

For years now I write almost exclusively over the weekends, with occassional editing in the evenings after work. Between working, needing to keep my apartment clean and myself fed, and dedicating time to mastering my fourth language, I have no brain for creativity after I'm done with all these chores and I use whatever remains of my evening to read, or watch shows with my best friend, or do some gaming.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

In the story I am currently writing, one of the secondary main characters is an ex-slave and a rape survivor. There is no shortage of hurt/comfort stories about a female character's experience with such kind of abuse, and in all my years of reading fic and books I often find that trauma stemming from it is either glossed over or healed through the power of true love. Even when a story follows a road to healing, it often ends in sunshine and rainbows after the all the travails. Well, for a long, long time now my gremlin brain wanted to explore what such trauma can do to a stoic male warrior, as well as to study how sometimes there is no easy healing from such ordeals, how deep these souls scars lie, and how they will keep poisoning the relationship he will pursue down the line and present major obstacles to both non-sexual and sexual intimacy with the woman he falls in love with. I'm a sucker for happy endings and I will not turn away from it, but this is going to be a scarred happy ending because those ghosts are never going to stay completely quiet in his soul.

I am daunted by the prospect of writing this spin-off like I've never been before, scared of not doing it justice, but something in me has latched onto this idea and really, really wants to at least try it.

13. What made you choose your username?

I needed something unique as a username and I have a habit of making up new names out of thin air for my writing. I liked this one and it had stuck. :)

If any writers who follow me would like to join in, you are welcome.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

“Are you worried for me?” Wakamiya asked, who looked straight at Yukiya’s eyes. Would it be possible that the Crown Prince could read his soul? The boy was afraid for his Master’s life. It was nippy at the Red Light District that night. When he informed the courtesans that he was not yet of age, they laughed at him. (He only turned 13 after the New Year’s Eve.) The wind blew their hair that sounded akin to someone was plucking the strings of a Koto. It was so carefree that the fringes threatened to break away from the ponytail wrapped in an ivory hair clip. Yukiya couldn’t take his eyes off his 16-year-old Prince, seeing him in a new light. His golden eyes shone like stars in the sky. His jet-black hair glistened. Yukiya stood in front of the most beautiful creature in the whole world. He was aware of that now.

This is stupid. His Young Master was so stupid to play with his life as if he were a cat with nine lives. He left him alone at the terrace dumbfounded, while the Prince couldn’t do anything but paid a long glance at his attendant vanishing from his line of sight. An idea came up to him: he’d never let go of this boy, the grandson of the head of the Northern family. Offer him to become his aide, his right-hand man, the most coveted position in the Imperial Court. After all, it was the Fate that brought them together.

However, the strength of that eye is extraordinary. Shot through by the intimidating gaze, Yukiya secretly swallowed his saliva.

“Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master” by Chisato Abe

Episode 4: An Imperial Council

[argentumcor]

@paranorahjones tagged me in this. I'm not usually one for this sort of thing but I've been looking at writing-qua-writing to get some stuff in order so I figured I'd do a little navel-gazing (procrastinating).

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Oh goodness. I think my first fanfic was for KotOR back in…before 2008, before I graduated high school. It’s lost to LiveJournal I believe, or FF.net. Several things are. They were fine, as I recall. Written when I was a lot younger for sure. I had to write them, though.

How many fandoms have you written in?

To go by AO3, 30 that I would consider actual separate fandoms. Many of those are one-shots, sometimes just odd ideas I had about something I watched or read or played, things I needed to get out of my head.

How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Must be around 16, though there were several years-long breaks in there. I am a dried-up old woman. You'll never be actually cool until you're over 30, kids, and then you won't even really care, get over it.

Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Frankly, read. I read very fast, I write not as fast, no one writes as fast as I read. For whatever fandom I’m working in, with exceptions, I will read new things and things I liked to help keep me motivated and inspired. As you can see from how many fandoms I’ve written for, I devour new fiction by nature. Verily, I hunger for it.

What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Pacing, pacing, pacing. I write my own stuff under my real name- I will not dox myself, partly paranoia and partly a sense of personal artistic ethics- and fanfiction has been my training wheels especially with pacing. It is the hardest part of fiction to me, something intuitive you have to have a go at until you find the right sense of it.

What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Hmm. I’m not a great barometer for weird. In recent memory, I spent a lot of time walking around every stupid alleyway and cranny of Night City in Cyberpunk 2077. I spend a lot of time feeling around in the guts of the fandoms I write- sometimes that’s really what it feels like you are doing.

What's your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

Hard to pick. It’s really nice when someone gets what you’re doing with structure and theme for longer works, but the people who are just struck plan by something I wrote are very special to me. All my commenters are, really. You guys rock. You know what though? The ones who say things like “oh thank God I found this, it feels like it was written by an adult who cares about the characters as people and not some teenager trying to get off”, I like those ones best because I totally understand.

What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Hmm. It’s a hard life, being a neo-paleo-counter-reformationist, but somebody’s gotta do it (rosary fics).

What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Crossovers most of the time. I have an X-files/SG-1 crossover I may never come back to because it required me to hold this kind of early aughts sci-fi mentality in my mind for two shows that both sync and do not sync and also isn’t where I, emotionally, am at these days. I don’t like to write crossovers generally because of that kind of thing and, even with reading, most of them are like a food combo only explainable by pregnancy hormones.

What is the easiest type?

Brief character studies where you’re looking at a character’s mindset during events. It’s simple and focused.

What is something that you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I started many moons ago, but never got around to reviving or really doing anything with, a Halo/Firefly crossover based on the end of Halo 3 that would have replaced Serenity. The crew finds some weird, old salvage adrift in the black…also my Firefly continuation since we’re on the subject, another ‘this is where the story is going’. I wonder if those notes are anywhere. No, no, wait, stop…

What made you choose your username?

I liked the sound of it. I’m Silverheart most places and argentumcor on Tumblr because Silverheart was taken so I just put it into Latin because neo-paleo-counter-reformationist and also, importantly, I am lazy.

Huh, I broke the formatting a bit? So it goes. I'll tag @womaninwinter because now she is double-tagged and this amuses me.

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

⸢ Chaeri's masterlist ⸥

A look through Chaeri's different hairstyles and which one is the member's favourite

ও Natural hair colour eras

⁖ Dark brown is Chaeri's natural hair color

⁖ It is also the hairstyle she is most seen

⁖ When she has long hair, she likes to keep it curly at the ends and straight at the hairline

⁖ According to fans brunette Chaeri is superior

⁖ Jungkook's favourite. He likes her having long hair because one of the things that relaxes him most is running his fingers through it before going to sleep

⁖ She often styles her hair with ribbons, scrunchies and hair jewellery

⁖ The producer of the MV of 'Black Swan' demanded her to turn back to this hair style for the video

⁖ The first time she cut her hair so short the fans went into chaos, in a very positive sense

⁖ Armys started referring to her as Oppa Chaeri

⁖ She was first seen at the airport, the pictures from that day are endless. The bodyguards had a lot of work to do to keep Chaeri safe from invading people

⁖ Yoongi's favourite. He believes that this cut gives her a more mature and womanly (rather than girly) appearance

⁖ In a vlive she said how she had cut it off in the heat of the moment but that she never regretted it

⁖ At that time she took the opportunity to have her ears more in view to wear peculiar earrings

ও Blonde eras

⁖ Strawberry blonde is the first light shade she has ever done to her hair

⁖ This colour goes very well with her not too fair skin tone

⁖ Her hair was so long back then that it took her hairdresser half a day to dye it

⁖ Fans that met her said the hair's much lighter in the sun than they appear in the photos

⁖ Namjoon's favourite. He often said in interviews that Chaeri looked adorable and angelic to him with that hair

⁖ After a short while she cut her strawberry blonde hair and made it a shade more copper-like

⁖ She always kept it straight

⁖ Jimin's favourite. He says that hair not too long and light-coloured brings out her beautiful face more

⁖ This was the hairstyle she had during the release of 'Dynamite'

⁖ She says that, although she prefers to see herself with long hair, having short or mid-length hair allows her to take better care of it and keep it healthier

⁖ The copper hair and glasses combo drives the armys (especially the males) crazy and they can't help but post it on every social media

⁖ SHE F*CKING OWNS THIS SHADE OF BLONDE

⁖ Gives off 'you can't sit with us' vibes

⁖ Kinda intimidating

⁖ This hairstyle goes along with the beginning of her learning to rap.

⁖ Fans for months, whenever they met the Rap line, jokingly thanked them for making the rap version of Chaeri alive

⁖ Hobi's favourite. He is the number one fan of Chaeri's badass side and this style screams it

ও Underlights and colored hair eras

⁖ She had Red underlights only for a couple of months during the release of 'Idol'

⁖ She wanted to match Jungkook's hair somehow

⁖ This style annoyed her so soon, though

⁖ But she liked her fringes

⁖ Isn't she the prettiest girl in the world with pink under lights?

⁖ Soft Chaeri vibes

⁖ It makes her look like an everlasting teen

⁖ Absolutely Jin's favourites. Being the oldest, it's hard for him to see the maknae line grow so fast. This hair style reminds him of when the then 16-year-old Chaeri asked him to apply fake strands of pink hair to her

⁖ She basically did it to cover her previous red locks but liked it more than she expected

⁖ The comeback of fringes

⁖ She wasn't even aware of the burgundy dye before Taehyung showed her

⁖ She loved it so much that she called her hairdresser at 9 p.m. so that she could show up at the awards ceremony the next day with that colour

⁖ Taehyung's favourite. He told her repeatedly that seeing her in unusual colours makes her even more unique than she already is

Credits to media owners

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 49, 5 décembre 1896, Paris. No. 14. — Toilettes de mariage. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Explications des gravures:

(1) Toilette de cérémonie pour dame de 40 ans. Robe princesse en épingline miroir lilas de Perse. Petite veste genre boléro formant deux pans carrés devant, en velours améthyste. Col évasé doublé de dentelle. Plastron de guipure rebrodé de paillettes.

Garniture de boutons artistiques sur le boléro. Manches de velours améthyste. Chapeau garni de satin bleu pâle et de bouquets de violettes. Manchon de zibeline.

(1) Ceremonial ensemble for a 40-year-old lady. Persian lilac mirror pin princess dress. Small bolero jacket forming two square panels in front, in amethyst velvet. Flared collar lined with lace. Guipure bodice embroidered with sequins.

Artistic button trim on the bolero. Amethyst velvet sleeves. Hat trimmed with pale blue satin and bouquets of violets. Sable sleeve.

Matériaux: 14 mètres de veloutine, 5 mètres de velours, 16 mètres de doublure.

—

(2) Toilette de cérémonie pour dame de 50 ans. Robe princesse à traîne ronde en velours gris argent. Revers et panneau du devant en satin gris perle brodé d'acier.

Une frange de soie et perles d'acier garnit le devant du corsage dans le haut et retombe en blouse jusqu'à la taille. Manches larges en velours, drapées dans le haut.

Chapeau en broderie d'acier garni de violettes de Parme et d'une aigrette blanche.

(2) Ceremonial ensemble for a 50-year-old lady. Princess dress with round train in silver gray velvet. Lapel and front panel in pearl gray satin with steel embroidery.

A fringe of silk and steel beads adorns the front of the bodice in the top and falls in blouse up to the waist. Wide velvet sleeves, draped at the top.

Hat in steel embroidery trimmed with Parma violets and a white aigrette.

Matériaux: 16 mètres de velours, 4 mètres de satin, 16 mètres de doublure.

—

(3) Toilette de mariée en satin royal blanc nacré. Jupe à traîne arrondie garnie devant de guirlandes de fleurs d'oranger. Corsage de satin recouvert de mousseline de soie froncée. Ceinture corselet en satin très ajustée. Garniture en volant de point d'Alençon fixé sur les épaules et formant un boléro.

Col Médicis en dentelle et satin. Manches en satin, tout unies avec volant de dentelle dans le bas. Voile de tulle illusion.

(3) Pearly white royal satin bridal ensemble. Skirt with rounded train trimmed in front with garlands of orange blossoms. Satin bodice covered with gathered silk chiffon. Very fitted satin corselet belt. Alençon point ruffle trim fixed on the shoulders and forming a bolero.

Medici collar in lace and satin. Satin sleeves, all plain with lace flounce at the bottom. Illusion tulle veil.

Matériaux: 18 mètres de satin, 20 mètres de doublure.

(4) Toilette de jeune femme en armure de soie vert coque d'amande. Jupe unie à godets derrière. galons brodés sur les coutures. Haute ceinture corselet, très ajustée, en armure encadrée de galon. Larges revers en peau de soie ivoire, recouverts d'un volant d'application d'Angleterre coquillé sur les épaules. Gilet de mousseline de soie noire plissée sur transparent rose. Manches en armure de soie.

Toquet de dentelle. Plumes et aigrette noires. Boucle de strass.

(4) Ensemble of a young woman in almond shell green silk armor. Plain skirt with godets behind. braids embroidered on the seams. High corselet belt, very fitted, in armor framed with braid. Wide lapels in ivory silk skin, covered with a shell appliqué flounce on the shoulders. Vest in pleated black silk muslin on transparent pink. Silk weave sleeves.

Lace cap. Black feathers and egret. Rhinestone buckle.

Matériaux: 15 mètres d'armure, 16 mètres de taffetas rose pour doublure.

—

(5) Toilette de demoiselle d'honneur pour fillette de 8 à 10 ans. Robe en bengaline bleu lumière froncée. Pélerine et garniture du corsage en application de guipure jaunie sur transparent de velours bleu lumière encadré d'une petite bande de zibeline. Jupe montée à fronces, garnie dans le bas d'une haute bande de velours incrustée de guipure. Large écharpe de satin Liberty crème en ceinture.

Toque Rembrandt en velours noir bouillonné, garnie de plumes Choux de satin bleu lumière. Grosse rose devant.

(5) Bridesmaid toilet for 8-10 year old girl. Gathered light blue bengaline dress. Pelerine and bodice trim applied in yellowed guipure on transparent light blue velvet framed with a small strip of sable. Gathered skirt, trimmed at the bottom with a high velvet band encrusted with guipure. Wide cream Liberty satin scarf in belt.

Rembrandt toque in bubbled black velvet, trimmed with light blue satin cabbage feathers. Big rose in front.

Matériaux: 6 mètres de bengaline, 5 mètres de velours, 9 mètres de taffetas pour doublure.

—

(6) Robe de peau de soie tilleul. Petite veste roumaine en velours mousse brodé de jais. Manches en peau de soie. Haute ceinture de satin noir drpé. Chapeau de feutre à fond drapé en velours rose de Chine. Plumes noires avec choux de satin drapé.

(6) Linden silk skin robe. Little Romanian jacket in moss velvet embroidered with jet. Silk skin sleeves. High waistband in black dripped satin. Felt hat with draped bottom in Chinese pink velvet. Black feathers with draped satin puffs.

Matériaux: 12 mètres de peau de soie, 3 mètres de velours, 14 mètres de doublure.

[flyfishfly]

20 Questions with Earl Carpenter

(x)

International singing star, producer and director Earl Carpenter answered 20 questions. Fresh from highly successful 6 week return at the Phantom, in Andrew Lloyd Webbers Phantom of the Opera, Earl can be seen in Bournemouth on Saturday 29 April in Three Phantoms and supporting Claire Sweeney at the Cowes Fringe Festival on Sunday 28 May.

Let’s start with a few favourites...

1. Favourite show (whether you have been in it or not)?

Tanz de Vampire

2. Favourite book?

Arabia by Levison Wood

3. Favourite theatre?

The Esplanade, Singapore

4. Favourite song (any genre)?

20 Years by The Civil Wars

5. Favourite type of music?

Anything

6. Favourite food?

Stir Fry

7. Favourite line from any show?

“Isn’t though!” Gaston’s reply to Belle saying “Gaston, what a pleasant surprise!”

8. What is your favourite role so far?

Darryl van Horne in The Witches of Eastwick

9. What role would you really love to play?

Trunchball in Matilda

10. What was your first role?

Will Scarlet, Robin Prince of Sherwood – yup, it was a rock musical

11. If you could be anyone else for the day, who would it be?

The younger me.

12. If you weren’t a brilliant singer what would you be?

The younger me. LOL

13. What advice would you give to 16 year old Earl?

Be more aware of how quickly time flies.

14. What was the last stage show you saw and enjoyed?

Tanz de Vampire in Vienna

15. What are the nicest/weirdest things you’ve ever received from fans?

I daren’t make this public!!

16. Would you like to do a straight play on stage rather than a musical?

Yes.

17. Would you consider bringing out a CD?  The Best of Earl Carpenter?

Absolutely not. HAHAH

18. Madonna once said she gets bored singing “Like a Virgin” but knows she owes the song for her career. So she always changes it to a different type of performance. Do you ever want to change “Bring Him Home”or “Music of the Night”to something different? A reggae version or maybe rap? Or maybe a beatbox version?

No, and have never sang “Bring Him Home”. Ha. Would happily retire from singing – 30 years is a long time. But I wouldn’t change something that has been soooo successful.

19. Would you like to write your own musical?

Too many amazingly talented people out there who are able to do that.

20. Can you tell us what you will be up to next?

Not yet but keep an eye on my social media.