#fund risers

[auroralwriting]

Consider: Bucky thinking he’s misplaced his dog tags, only to find that the reader’s been holding them hostage/wearing them because he’s (accidentally) ignoring her, and the reader knows this was the best way to ensure she finally gets his attention

attention

avenger!bucky barnes x avenger!reader (after tfatws)

bucky's been ignoring you, and you know how to get his attention.

word count: 1.5k | warnings: light angst but overall fluff

Bucky had never been one to keep too busy. He liked things low key, relaxed, casual. Even while Sam, himself, and you were reforming the Avengers, he always made time for you, his best friend.

Deep down, though, you knew you both weren't just friends. Late nights drinking beer and dancing were enough to tell you that you both were more than just friends. It seemed like Bucky knew it too, seeing as he refused to go on any dates Sam tried to set up or even download Tinder, which he wouldn't have done anyways.

After a long, hard few months of trying to find funding, Clint had suggested Kate Bishop, his somewhat protege, who happened to be rich as fuck as you'd later find out. After seeing her skills, you knew she was perfect for the team.

Kate was quick to suggest Yelena, who took a week and a half longer than Kate to convince, meaning it took her a week and a half to say yes after what she called, 'obsessive behavior' of finding her and begging her to join.

Now, the Avengers were back, and slowly becoming better. Sam was busy working out arrangements with the government while Kate bought the necessary equipment for you all. Yelena was focused on making the best uniforms for you all (filled with many pockets), and Bucky was focused on finding leads to focus on. You, on the other hand, handled the press that was looming over you all.

Even with all of that, Bucky made time for you. However, it was becoming apparent he was finding excuses to not see you.

It began with the excuses that he was busy with leads.

"Buck!" You called in a sing-song voice as you walked in the room he was sat in. "I just bought us a twelve pack, and I think Star Wars is calling our names." You smiled as you walked up next to him.

He barely even looked up from his computer screen, "I can't tonight. I think I have a lead and I need to focus before it goes off-grid."

Okay, that seemed totally reasonable. "Oh, of course. Maybe tomorrow," You smiled.

"Maybe," Bucky said, voice so nonchalant you weren't sure if he had even registered your voice. So, you said a soft goodbye and left the room, feeling confused and awkward.

The next time it happened, it was four days later. Bucky was sat on the computer again when you approached. "Hey Bucky, I was wondering if you wanted to take a nighttime drive on your Harley? It's been a while since we've ridden."

"Outta gas," Bucky's voice was monotone as he replied. "Some other time."

Immediately, it felt like a punch to the gut, which you've felt more than once and this one hurt worse. "Oh, yeah." You muttered as you walked away.

That night, you contemplated everything that had been happening. What had you done to upset Bucky to the point of avoiding you? There had to be some reasonable explanation to this, right? The only way to find out for sure was to get Bucky to actually speak to you again.

When the morning came, you woke up extra early. Bucky was an early riser. You weren't sure if that was from his time in the military or Hydra. You made your way to his room where he was absent. It took just a moment to see the steam leaking from under his bathroom door for you to figure out he was showering. As you looked around his room, you looked at the table next to his bed and saw your target: his dog tags.

Bucky never did anything without those on. They were a part of him, and you'd never even seen him without them on. Maybe it was a bit too invasive, but it felt like the only solid way to get Bucky to speak to you.

You carefully walked up to his nightstand and grabbed the tags, looping them around your neck and tucking them under your shirt. The metal was cold on your sternum, and you had to wonder if the coolness of the tags reminded Bucky of his arm.

The thought was quickly thrown to the side as the noise of running water disappeared. You quickly made your way out of his room, making sure to be extra silent due to his super soldier hearing. You shut the door as quietly as you could and made your way to your room where you collapsed on your bed, the adrenaline of it all making you feel out of breath.

You looked at the clock, six forty-three. The time began now to see how long it took for Bucky to realize you were the thief of his dog tags.

Bucky felt the panic rise on his chest when he saw that his dog tags were not on his nightstand where he left them after getting up. He had the same routine: wake up, take off his tags, and shower.

He searched all around the area to see if they fell. No luck. Bucky felt stumped about where they could be.

There was no way they could've fallen off at any point yesterday. Sam and him spent the evening sparring, and he would've told Bucky if he'd seen the tags laying around. Plus, Bucky remembered taking them off when he woke up.

So where could they possibly be?

They couldn't have broken and fallen off without him noticing, right? They were tags from the forties, there was a chance they just didn't withstand the test of time. Bucky always knew they were on him, though. Those tags were almost a part of his body. He would have felt if they weren't on.

Then, it hit him. The only person who knew just how much they meant to Bucky was you. Was there any way you had taken them?

Bucky quickly made his way to your room, knocking on the door a little bit harsher than he intended too. He looked at the clock that was hung on the wall next to him, it was seven o'eight. There was no chance you were awake.

The door opened slowly and a very anxious looking you. All Bucky could see was just your head, the rest of your body was hidden behind the door.

"Well, look who's come to see me." You said in a flat tone.

Bucky sighed, "I'm sorry, I've been busy. Have you seen my tags?"

His abruptness made you flash your eyebrows upward. "Your dog tags?"

"The only tags I wear," Bucky sighed, growing more frustrated by the situation as the second hand on the clock ticked. It was then that Bucky spotted a flash of silver from the small part of your neck. He pushed the door open further and was able to spot the chain just peaking out from your shirt.

Before Bucky got a chance to say anything, your eyes became watery. A small sense of newfound panic coursed through Bucky's veins. "You kept blowing me off," Your voice sounded small and fragile as you admitted your feelings to Bucky.

"Doll, you know I didn't mean too." Bucky sighed as you sat down on your bed. He was quick to follow, sitting thigh to thigh with you.

"But you were so mean," Bucky didn't think he could feel his heart break more until he heard you small voice call him mean. You were right, he was being mean, but it wasn't on purpose.

Bucky set his hand over your own, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. "M' sorry, Doll. I didn't mean to be mean." Bucky sighed, his head hanging in a sense of shame. He'd never meant to hurt you.

"Why?" You asked in reply, looking at him with confusion.

Bucky stuttered over his words for a moment, taking a breath to calm himself. "I realized that my feelings for you aren't just.."

"Friendly?" You offered. Bucky's eyes flashed to your face, surprise taking over his features. He didn't know you also realized it, too.

"Yeah, that." Bucky nodded. "And I got scared." Bucky sighed, his metal hand rubbing over his face as he took a shaky breath. "I never expected myself to feel this way about someone, especially someone so good."

You felt your heart melt at Bucky's words. "Buck," You mumbled, flipping over the hand that was over yours so your fingers intertwined.

"I never meant to hurt you, doll." Bucky reiterated, looking at you with a gentle care. "Please, forgive me."

"Only if you forgive me for taking these," You replied, hand slipping from his so you could take off his tags.

You set them in his hand as he stared at them. "You know exactly what to do to get my attention, huh?" His next move surprised you, his hands going behind your head as you felt the coolness of the chain relaxing around your neck once more.

"Bucky, no. I can't-"

"I want you too," Bucky urged, staring deep into your eyes. "They're yours. I'm yours."

You felt your heart warm at his words. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything, doll." Bucky replied, a soft smile playing his lips as you enclosed your fist around the tags.

"I'll guard them with my life," You promised.

Bucky exhaled, "I know you will."

[yutahoes]

Caramel

(Part Two)

characters: stripper! Yuta x female! Y/N genre: chaptered, smut, fluff, angst word count: 3.6k words summary: Y/N has everything in her bitter life, not until she meets a sweet-looking stripper. warnings: matured theme, stripper au!, third person POV, rusty writing, curse words, degrading words, complicated family dynamics, shirtless guy, alcohol consumption, lap dance, horny Yuta, there's a specific description of Y/N but you can easily discard that if you're not comfortable

Part One

Y/N had always been an early riser. 

But since she came home late at night, when everyone was already sleeping, she groaned at the sound of the alarm clock by her bedside table. She should have stayed at her apartment unit, not her family home. But she misses the home-cooked meals here at home. 

And if she doesn’t get up, she’ll definitely miss it. 

The girl was done with her usual morning routine, just brushing her teeth, when there was a knock on her door. She shouted for the person to come in and she could hear small pitter-patter steps that made her smile, “Noona, you’re home!” the six-year-old Junyoung shouted while running to give her a tight hug. If there is one thing - person rather - that she missed the most in this house, that will be her younger brother. “Jungwoo hyung said she saw your car outside so I knocked on your door.” He shared while giggling. He might have missed her as much. 

“Sorry if I haven’t been coming home,” she claimed, picking him up and groaning that he had gotten heavier and bigger. 

She remembered when he was a newborn and she had the opportunity to carry Junyoung, she was so scared of the change in her family. But now, she was ecstatic at the change that happened. 

When she was the same as Junyoung’s age, all she could remember were the sound of the thunderous night, muffled cries, and shouting.  

She was relieved at the change that happened in her life. 

The younger boy had been chatting non-stop about his school activities that made his older brother laugh, “You missed Y/N so much, don’t you?” The girl smiled at Jungwoo before grinning at the young kid who only giggled as an answer. “I was surprised to see your car early this morning. What time did you come home?” 

Y/N took a bite of the bacon before answering that it was already early morning when she arrived home. “You didn’t even tell us you were coming home.” Doyoung, the oldest of the brothers, claimed. The girl smiled, she didn’t even intend to come home. But her apartment is on the opposite way and she doesn’t want a man to struggle finding his way home. “Where have you been?” 

“Bachelorette party,” she answered quietly. 

“So that’s why Mr. Song thanked me for the Maserati.” the patriarch of the household claimed, smiling at her. “He was repeatedly thanking me as he saved a fortune for his future son-in-law’s gift.” 

Doyoung’s eyes widened in surprise, “A Maserati for a wedding gift? Y/N, aren’t you spending too much?” 

The girl reasoned out that the groom-to-be kept on complimenting her car so she decided to just give them a car instead. “And I took it from my funds so you don’t have to audit anything.” The eldest male smiled proudly at her. 

“Didn’t I set you up with that guy? From the hospital chain, right?” Y/N’s mother asked in a serious tone. The girl nodded. She did. “Have you been attending the meet-ups I set you up with?” The males on the table became quiet. “All your friends have been married, what do you plan to do with your life?” 

The younger female stared at the older. She now remembered why she hated going home. 

A small smile escaped her lips before eating her breakfast quietly. The father lightly coughed before continuing, “I heard you secured a deal with a French investor. That was amazing!” She nodded, smiling warmly at him. 

Y/N was about to share about the multi-million deal when the matriarch spoke up, “I’m scheduling a meet-up for you tomorrow night. You have to meet him.” She gave a heavy sigh before nodding. 

She shouldn’t have come home. 

—--

Jungwoo was talking on the phone the whole ride. It’s fascinating to Y/N how she was driving on the same road with a different person in the passenger seat. When he put down the phone, he only leaned on the leather chair and stared at her. “You know when I told Junyoung you’re home, he started sprinting to your room. He misses you so much.” 

The girl giggled at how endearing her younger brother was. “I did miss him as well,” she claimed then turned to the person in the passenger seat. “I also miss you, Woo.” 

The guy gave a hearty laugh and Y/N wondered how he resembled Junyoung so much. They both gave such a puppy vibe that it wasn’t hard to be close to him. “You saw me in the company yesterday.” 

“I always see your picture whenever I enter the company, Woo.” He laughed giddily. It isn’t even a surprise that the model Kim Jungwoo is the face of their own company and he has been great in that field ever since he started. With his tall height and very handsome face, the younger Kim evidently has everything. “Are you enjoying your work?” 

Jungwoo nodded. He had been modeling for different products, always on the magazine covers, and even walking the runways of New York, Milan, and Paris. “I wouldn’t even enjoy this if not for you.” Y/N shushed him. “I mean it, Y/N. Doyoung hyung feels the same way but you know he’s not good at expressing his emotions.” The girl shook her head, he shouldn’t say anything. “We’re thankful that you stepped up in this responsibility and Dad found his business-minded child in you.”

Y/N gripped the steering wheel harder. “I hope Mom,” then Jungwoo stopped. “I mean your mom eases up on you like what she does to the three of us.” 

She pursed her lips at that. Even if Jungwoo isn’t blood-related, she knows how sympathetic he is when he comes to her. He understands her better than she understands herself. Maybe that’s why she warmed up to him first when their father and her mother got married. When he asked if she could drive him to his photoshoot, she knew that he only wanted to talk to her about something.

“The guys introduced to you,” he started. “Are they truly that bad?” 

Y/N laughed at the question before nodding. “They’re spoiled jerks.” Jungwoo gave a groan of disgust that earned a chuckle from her. 

She’s very thankful for his stepbrother's presence in her life. 

—---

The valet was easily on her aid when she stopped the car in front of her apartment building. The staff of the high-end establishment greeted her as she made her way to the penthouse of the said building. Her own home. Her safe place. Y/N had only been out of the place for a night but she missed the place and the solitude it brings. 

Here, she could be who she truly is. 

Once settled in the room, she removed her light makeup and sat on the couch. She removed her contact lens, replacing it with her thick-rimmed glasses. The dark living room and the warm confines of her blanket made her sigh. 

“Don’t you feel lonely?”

The question came to her as she stared at her own reflection from the television. She had everything but why does she feel empty? She has a loving family, friends, and co-workers who seem okay but why does she feel alone? She is obviously happy with her life but why does she feel sad? 

Unconsciously, she stared at the cup of coffee warm in her hands. The color of darkness. Bitter coffee.  

Just like her life. 

One side of her lips curled up in a smirk, why is she so lonely? 

Even while listening to the presentation in front of her, her mind was on the endless questions forming in her mind. Should she stop obsessing about the company? She wasn’t even the chairman’s son, wasn’t even a blood relative. She’s only a daughter on paper, a stepdaughter. What makes her think that she can be the next president of the hard-earned family company? Maybe her mom was right. She should just marry rich and wish that her husband wouldn’t care about business and let her run the company. 

But it’s more of an idea than a reality as she listened to the conceited guy in front of her talk about how his father was happy that he had a chance to meet her. He kept addressing her as the company president’s daughter which made her think twice about why she agreed to meet him. And really, him? Her mom could do better. 

He’s not even as handsome as the guy she met the other night. Not as interesting to talk to. 

But why is she even comparing the two? 

This guy definitely has nothing against Yuta. 

When they were teens, she remembered her stepdad always telling his sons to always be a gentleman. Never let a girl open a door or hold her chair, always let her order first, and drive her home. Doyoung and Jungwoo both adhere to that and Y/N wouldn’t be surprised that her youngest brother, Junyoung, would be the same gentleman as his brothers. A quality the guy in front of her doesn’t have. 

She was thankful though. He had an eye-catching bright yellow Audi and the thought that someone could see her in that showy car made her shiver. Immediately, she texted Jungwoo that the date was a disaster and she hated the guy before putting her phone in her handbag. A piece of folded paper inside the handbag captured her attention. 

Maybe she’ll lessen her loneliness tonight. 

The strip club is different from what she imagined it to be. The bouncer just gave her a look while she headed inside, her fingers playing with the folded paper. The speakers boom sensual music and from the stage, she can see men in their small underwear grinding their bodies to the music. Women flock to the stage as the smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke fills the lively gold-embellished room. 

This doesn’t seem like a good idea. 

What was the instruction again? Find the manager, give this paper, and ask for Yuta. Yuta Nakamoto. She tried to remember. 

“Hi baby girl,” someone called making her turn to the owner of the voice. She was wide-eyed when she was facing a shirtless man, smiling at her. “Are you lost?” Wait, she remembered him. The tall guy from the bachelorette party. He probably knows Yuta right? “You look like you’re new here.” 

She breathed heavily before handing him the piece of paper, “I’m looking for Yuta Nakamoto.” 

The guy stared at the paper before glancing at her with a questionable expression. “I’ll call him. Wait for me at the bar.” Y/N only nodded, walking to where he pointed at. 

The uniformed man tending the bar was smiling when she sat on one of the high chairs, asking her what she wanted to drink. Should she drink? But she needed to drive back to her apartment. In the end, she asked for a non-alcoholic drink. It’s a different environment that she kept on guarding herself. This is more nerve-wracking than presenting in front of board members. 

Is this even a good idea? Maybe she could still make an escape. 

“Hey,” Y/N turned to see Yuta smiling at her. He was wearing a denim vest with a gray tank top underneath and a cowboy hat. She was suddenly thankful that he was rather clothed unlike the guy earlier. “You came.” 

She mirrored the same smile as him. “You said to find you when I wanted a drink.” 

Yuta chuckled, then eyed the drink that the bartender just served her. “Well, you wouldn’t be drunk with that.” 

“I have to drive back.” 

The guy shook his head, “I’ll get you a substitute driver.” Y/N nodded, putting her full trust in this man. “Whiskey?” Once again, she nodded. He ordered a bottle from the bartender and then glasses before asking Y/N to follow him. 

If the girl thought that was chaotic, she wasn’t prepared for the image by the hallways of the strip club. Couples were making out, not even reaching one of the many doors on both sides of the wall. It already seemed like a brothel. Now, she wonders what activities are happening inside the rooms. She shrugged, she didn't want to know.

Yuta opened one of the doors, letting the girl inside. He pushed open the lights which had a purple mood lighting that startled Y/N. With another push of the switch, the lights turned white. The room isn’t too bad. There was a couch in the middle with a small table, and a sound system located on the side of the room. The floor has a huge carpet but the ceiling has mirrors which she found odd. “Please feel at home,” The side of her lips curled up. That is a weird sentence. 

She sat down on the black leather couch as he put down the whiskey bottle and glasses on the table. Yuta walked to where the sound system was and started playing a sensual song that startled her. “Don’t mind the music, it’s just so the club manager won’t bother us.” 

Y/N lightly gulped at the idea that there were only the two of them inside the room so she tried easing her nerves by fidgeting on her seat and taking notice of anything around. Should she run away? Ask him how he was. “You’re wearing a cowboy outfit.” The girl noted as Yuta sat beside her on the couch. 

He started pouring drinks into one glass and handing it to her, “I was supposed to have a dance set next.” 

“Oh,” she claimed before drinking the whiskey in one gulp. That was so strong that she couldn’t help but hiss at the burning of her throat. “Then I came early.” Yuta smiled before pouring her whiskey. “You’re already making me drunk.” 

The guy laughed, “Isn’t that the idea why you’re here?” 

She smiled. It is. But it also isn’t at the same time. She now wondered why she was here in the first place. She took another gulp of the whiskey and then poured another into her glass, chugging the contents as if just drinking water. “I went on a date with a guy,” she started. Yuta just stared at her, listening intently. “He kept on saying that his father was happy that I agreed to see his son.” Another shot of whiskey. “Maybe his father was the one who wanted to marry me.” She tried to say it in the most humorous way possible. “Or they just want the company, not me.” 

Yuta brushed the strand of hair away from her face, staring at how she downed another shot of whiskey. “A company that isn’t mine to begin with.” She tried to pour the liquor into her glass but nothing came out of the bottle that made her chuckle. “In the end, I’m the only one who got drunk.” 

The guy smiled before giving her a light chuckle, “You’re so easily drunk, Y/N.” he teased while taking the empty bottle of whiskey. “Your face is so red.” 

She started feeling her cheeks and then her forehead before laughing at herself. She does feel warm. “I have never drank this much. My mom will definitely kill me.” Yuta chuckled at that then stood up to maybe get her something light to drink but before he could leave her side, she held his wrist. “Since I’m dying, do you think I can get that free lap dance tonight?” 

What the heck is wrong with this girl? She’s very unpredictable. 

Yuta sighed before sitting beside her, holding her warm cheek. “You are very drunk.” She shook her head, arguing that she was just tipsy. “You won’t die tonight, Y/N.”

“If I go home in this state, I might be.” 

Yuta laughed at that. She is a cute drunk. The music is still playing in the background and he guessed that it was just past the last half of the full song. “A little lap dance then I’ll get you a driver.” She nodded, making him smirk. How adorable. 

He had to walk back to the sound system, raising the volume. When he turned back to her, her eyes were on him and he felt self-conscious. He had been dancing for countless women before, even going as far as to give them private lap dances. But this was the first time that he got this nervous in front of someone. And she’s drunk for crying out loud. 

Yuta started swaying along the music, body rolling against the sensual beat, as he took gentle steps to her. His eyes locked on her expression but got annoyed that she wasn't showing much emotion. Slowly, he removed the denim vest followed by the tank top before kneeling on top of her. The stripper moved his body on her, hands on the headrest of the couch for balance. He’s shirtless, grinding against her, yet she still looks bored. And it frustrated him. 

Lap dances have different categories in Yuta’s book: the non-physical and the physical ones. He doesn’t need to explain it further. If you pay more, you’ll get the physical service. And although he knew this girl could pay, he offered this lap dance for free. Typical Yuta would keep on reminding in his head that it should be non-physical but the Yuta tonight, held her hand and placed it on his chest. He let her fingers trail south, warm skin against his. He had never liked someone’s touch like tonight. Her fingers were soft, her palm warm as she explored the muscles of his abdomen. 

It feels oddly sexy. Erotic, perhaps. 

His finger was on her chin, raising her head to face him. She’s very pretty with those glistening eyes, flushed cheeks, and plump red lips. Lips that looked so soft. He leaned closer, her breath warm and ticklish against his lips. Then the music came to a sudden stop. 

Yuta blinked in surprise before taking every self-control to get himself away from the girl. “I’ll call you a driver.” He walked briskly out of the room and into the bar where he asked for a glass of cold water. What the heck is wrong with him? Is he seriously trying to kiss her? He might be crazy. The bartender asked if he was alright and he just nodded, asking if he could call for a substitute driver. If he was a little embarrassed earlier, he’s more embarrassed now. He just wanted to be swallowed to the ground. Is this the result of having a beautiful client? Is it the result of his horniness these past nights? This is dangerous. 

“Hey,” he turned to the owner of the voice and there was Y/N, standing while tightly holding her handbag. “Thank you for tonight, Yuta.” She shouldn’t be thanking him. He almost did something sinful to her. There was a smile on her face, different from the expressionless face she had earlier. He felt betrayed that instant. Maybe she didn’t like his performance. “I left something for you back in the room.” 

The guy’s eyes squinted in confusion before standing from his chair to jog to the room. He offered the service for free so why is she paying him all of a sudden? And what is this obscene amount of money? This is way more than what Johnny or Taeyong gets from sleeping with their clients. He immediately returned outside with the empty whiskey bottle and glasses. “She’s rich, isn’t she?” Ten, the bartender, asked. “She paid for twenty bottles of whiskey but when I returned the payment to her, she claimed that I could keep it as a tip.” Why is she throwing money like this? “Just a week and you’ll probably be out of this club, Yuta hyung.” 

His feet started walking to go outside the club. Ten was right. If there is any way to help him get out of this club - to get out of this stripper business - it surely is this girl. But he cannot do that to her. She seemed to hate guys who only wanted her for money, guys who used her for their own comfort. 

He doesn’t want to be that kind of a guy. He cannot use her like this. 

Luckily, the car is still there. Yuta lightly knocked on the window of the driver’s seat and even Y/N looked surprised when the assigned driver asked Yuta what he wanted. The guy just pointed at her window and the driver immediately clicked on a button that pushed the tinted window of the backseat down. Yuta handed the thick cash back, “I gave you that service for free.” She was about to answer when he continued, “And this is too much for a tip, Y/N.” 

The girl only gave him a timid smile. “It’s fine, Yuta. Just keep it, you actually deserve more.” But the guy only laughed at how absurd that was. Is she even hearing herself? Or is she so out of touch with reality that she doesn’t know how huge this money is? “With your smile and handsome face, you should charge a million.” 

Fuck! Yuta thought. She’s fucking good at this game. And it’s pulling him in. He’s fucking interested.  

He wants her. 

So bad. 

“Then Y/N,” Yuta started in a low voice, leaning close that his arms were on the window of the car. “Sleep with me tonight.” 

Part Three

[legendsoffandoms]

•~• INTRO •~•

• Hello! My names Clover!

• I’m Trans masc/GenderFaun, which just means my gender is not solid and is constantly changing anywhere but the female spectrum

• My favorite pronouns are: Xe/They/It/He, but feel free to use any as long as their not she/her :3

• I’m Omnisexual, Cupioromantic/Demiromantic, and Polyamorous. Which just means, I feel romantic attraction rarely (and need a relationship prior to the aromantic feelings) but still desire a romantic relationship regardless.

• I have: Autism, ADHD, Social and General Anxiety, and Depression.

• This is my main blog, but I have a few side blogs. [Magic Anesthesia Au and Little Monkey Painter]

• I’m otherkin and poly kin :3

• Here’s a list of my kins:

Cosmo (Spacekin)

Sirenkin

Xiao Siye Cao (Ockin)

Onyx (Fallen Angel/Demonkin)

Ink sans (fictionkin)

Sun Wukong [OSP] (Fictionkin)

Leonardo Hamato [Rottmnt] (Fictionkin)

(Fictionkin) SC

Cryptic Cat (Otherkin/Felinekin/Crytickin)

Legends/Link | LU (Fictionkin)

Link | BOTW/TOTK (Fictionkin)

Vantablack | Ancientverse/UTAu (Fictionkin)

Dollhearted

Velvet (Ockin)

Conceptkin | Not sure what it should be called-

Kin info:

~•~ DNI: Transphobes, Homophobes, Anti-kin, Anti-otherhuman, Pro-endos, Endos, Jerks, Pro-shippers/Shippers of bad ships, if you don’t respect anything above :DNI ~•~

•~• BOUNDARIES •~•

- Don’t bring drama onto my blog

- DMs are open! But I can’t respond from 10pm to 6am est/edt

- Asks are also open! And again, same time.

- Don’t send my pics of yourself, and no personal information.

- SWF blog only, and while I will post some gore and there there will be warnings!

- I don’t do requests for art/wallpapers/userboadrs/moodboards, or anything like that. While I would love to do art requests, I don’t have the time or resources to do so currently.

- I am a minor, bodily I am. Do not be weird, do not anything. (13-17)

- Do not send go-fund mes, or any kind of fun riser. I do not want to be bothered (or feel guilty) about it. I cannot give you money, I am broke.

- [Will add more later]

[osric-giroux-ffxiv]

DWC - August - Day 1 - Tournament

The air was different here. 

It wasn’t the cold, biting air he’d grown accustomed to, but instead it was hot and heavy with more than just salt and water. It wasn’t humidity that hung in the air here. 

There was a gentle thud of the wood under Osric’s boots as he walked along the docks, the vast city of Tuliyollal behind him, the ocean splayed out before him. Ever the early riser, he’d expected quiet as he’d left the room that had become his temporary home once reaching Tural, needing to stretch his legs as he waited for word regarding his inquiries and waited for it to be late enough in the day that he could visit the location he knew his ex-wife was staying with the twins. 

But instead of quiet streets and empty docks he’d been met with workers prepared for the day long before the sun had crested over the horizon. 

There was a certain excitement that filled the air - something he’d seen from time to time, perhaps before some of the grander tournaments as a child, when he was permitted to see them - but it seemed to be ever present, rather than simply momentarily. 

“Mister G..giroux?” The pronunciation of the last name seemed  to be a struggle, and it drew Osric from his musings, causing him to turn around - only to come face to face with a male Hrothgar, who was holding in his hand a missive.

“Aye - that’s me.”

“Oh good - this is for you, sir.”

“Ah -” It took him a moment, the currency exchange was something he was still getting used to, but he provided the proper coinage, handing over the proper amount and then some. “Thank you for your trouble. Enjoy the rest of your morning.”

The man grinned, counting out the funds before offering a small nod and turning to leave - a quick “You as well.” before disappearing into the crowds.

Osric turned the missive over between his hands before exhaling slowly, and glancing out over the horizon where the sun was now clearly visible, the city fully awake behind him. It was time to change before visiting his children and sorting out his agenda for the next several weeks. 

The air was different here…and perhaps it was exactly the thing he needed.

@daily-writing-challenge

[blairamok]

I sent an ask earlier with a bunch of questions but I think they may have been consumed by the ether…so I’ll settle for just this one.

from wake-up to bedtime, what do A & C’s daily routines look like? (Can be on a competitive or non-competitive day, or both.)

oh no!! it must have because i definitely don't see it :(

their daily routines always have figure skating in mind, whether during the high season or low season. even when competitions aren't in full swing, they are still training roughly 20-25 hours a week, on ice and off ice, with exercise in between. but let's say they give themselves a break, like aziraphale likes to do on the weekends. aziraphale is always an early riser, no matter what. he starts his day with a cup of tea, mulls over his emails and messages like a good lad, might give social media a quick scroll. he does his stretches and he takes these very seriously, he's got an entire routine for this. he will either spend his day reading or out with anathema, window shopping, hitting up their favorite cafes and lunch spots. he likes to have a hot bath in the evening, where he truly pampers himself. and then it's to bed, where he's likely reading until the clock tells him it's time to shut his eyes. another thing to note is aziraphale does shows during the off season— this is his job, the main way he funds his skating outside of competition winnings and what little federation money he gets, so he's likely putting in extra hours on ice for rehearsals.

crowley stays in bed until the very last second he possibly can, to which he then rolls out of and immediately into the shower. he takes his coffee black and to-go, and heads straight to the rink. there may be an odd day he decides to say fuck it, i'm gonna sleep in, where he sleeps until about noon and then proceeds to watch golden girls until his brain guilt trips him into going to the rink for at least an hour or two (or do some artistic inline, his alternative to on ice training when he's feeling people averse). crowley probably spends more time at the rink than at home, so when he does come home he's tired and instantly flops into bed where he will either pass out, or search his name on twitter and find someone to pick a fight with.

an essential day in the life tldr; eat, skate, sleep. and try not to cry.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Devil's Foot pt 1

Gonna go ahead and assume that no actual devil's make an appearance in this one. So... maybe a location? Maybe a statue or artwork of some kind?

We shall find out.

Oh, its in Cornwall. I feel like it's going to be a geographical location, then. There are loads of places called stuff like that in the more rural parts of the British Isles.

It was, then, with considerable surprise that I received a telegram from Homes last Tuesday—he has never been known to write where a telegram would serve—in the following terms: Why not tell them of the Cornish horror—strangest case I have handled.

This is a personal request from Holmes himself? But Holmes, you know he's not going to write it how you want him to write it. You know you're going to complain he sensationalised it too much. He's going to focus on the narrative rather than the technique.

In March of that year Dr. Moore Agar, of Harley Street, whose dramatic introduction to Holmes I may some day recount...

I bet he pretended to be a corpse and then jump-scared the poor bastard.

The ancient Cornish language had also arrested his attention...

Sometimes I feel Sherlock Holmes in my soul. Yes. Linguistic studies and evolution of language. I'm pretty sure he's wrong about its evolution, because it's in the same language family as Welsh and Breton, but this is exactly what I would do if I were sent to Cornwall. Walk around admiring the history and study the language.

He was a middle-aged man, portly and affable, with a considerable fund of local lore. [...] also, Mr. Mortimer Tregennis, an independent gentleman [...] taking rooms in his large, straggling house. The vicar, being a bachelor, was glad to come to such an arrangement, though he had little in common with his lodger, who was a thin, dark, spectacled man, with a stoop which gave the impression of actual, physical deformity.

We go from a pleasant and surprisingly unhorny description of a person to a 'really Watson?' description again. And that's not even mentioning the "lodger? lodger. and in conclusion, lodger." of it all.

"We can only regard it as a special Providence that you should chance to be here at the time, for in all England you are the one man we need.” I glared at the intrusive vicar with no very friendly eyes

Watson is on guard dog duty. Don't you dare interfere with Holmes' recovery.

I glanced at the hastily clad clergyman, with the formally dressed lodger seated beside him, and was amused at the surprise which Holmes's simple deduction had brought to their faces.

Watson trying to pretend he's always been able to work out Holmes' deductions and never been surprised a day in his life.

"This morning, being an early riser, he walked in that direction before breakfast and was overtaken by the carriage of Dr. Richards, who explained that he had just been sent for on a most urgent call to Tredannick Wartha."

Oh no! Poisoning? Was it poisoning? I don't know why my mind went to poisoning. Something about a doctor being called rather than the police, but then if someone had been stabbed and wasn't dead yet, you'd call a doctor too, so... My mind is just jumping to conclusions.

Who is it? Who's dead. Owen, George, or Brenda?

"His two brothers and his sister were seated round the table exactly as he had left them, the cards still spread in front of them and the candles burned down to their sockets. The sister lay back stone-dead in her chair, while the two brothers sat on each side of her laughing, shouting, and singing, the senses stricken clean out of them."

Alas, poor Brenda.

Is the poison in the candles? Or on the cards? Or in the drinks.

Poor Mortimer, though. And you're being so rude about him, Watson. Guy's just been through a hugely traumatic event. Although, I suppose by the time you're writing this it's been 13 years and he knows what happened, but still. Have some compassion for the poor man.

Is foot a card term? I don't play much cards. Not a geographical feature then.

"I take it you were divided in some way from your family, since they lived together and you had rooms apart?”

I mean, the mind immediately jumps to it being because he's gay and living with a man, but I know this story will not go there. So... money, perhaps?

"We were a family of tin-miners at Redruth, but we sold our venture to a company, and so retired with enough to keep us. I won't deny that there was some feeling about the division of the money and it stood between us for a time, but it was all forgiven and forgotten, and we were the best of friends together.”

Yep, money. And were you really the best of friends together? Were you?

“As we sat at the table my back was to the window, and my brother George, he being my partner at cards, was facing it. I saw him once look hard over my shoulder, so I turned round and looked also."

I have the strangest recollection of this scene. I think I must be remembering the Granada version of it.

Then we turned our steps towards this ill-omened house in which they had met their strange fate.

OK, this is very creepy so far. The fact they were all sitting exactly where he left them (according to him) the sudden madness, the death. Very creepy. Looking forward to what happens next.

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 1

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

Part 3, baby! Lets go!

————–

PART 3

Chapter 1

Just over a week later, Calina’s new found resolve to do ‘whatever it took’ was put to the test.   

She’d left the house early that morning for a run, after waking well before dawn. She’d tossed and turned for an hour trying to fall back to sleep before finally admitting defeat, so she’d gotten up, shoved on her workout gear and snuck out of the house.  Her time was better spent exercising and improving her stamina instead of chasing elusive sleep. She’d spent too many weeks cooped up inside and sedentary - either in Matt’s apartment or in the Widows' base - and she needed to be in better shape for the battles to come.

She checked her watch as she slowed from a jog to a brisk walk on the long driveway leading to the house. She noted the time and frowned - she was minutes off her usual speed. She definitely needed to work on that.

She made her way around the side of the house to the back door. It led straight into the kitchen, where she hoped another early riser had already started brewing a pot of coffee. She was desperate for a caffeine hit before she grabbed a shower. There’d been too many sleepless nights over the past week and she was operating at a constant low level of exhaustion.

It was another thing she needed to work on. She just wasn’t sure how she could banish her insomnia without Matt beside her. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the one they’d spent together at Christmas...

She approached the back door, and paused at the sound of raised voices within. It was still early - and most of the Widows had started to enjoy sleeping late in the mornings - but judging from the racket, every Widow in the house was wide awake, sitting around the table and arguing with each other.

Something had happened.

Calina quickly yanked open the door…and the room went quiet.

Weird.

“What’s going on?” she asked slowly.

“You’ve infected them all with your romantic bullshit,” Yelena replied from her perch on the countertop. “That’s what’s going on.”

“What?”

“I found Volkov’s money man,” Anya said, seemingly changing the subject. She was sat at the table with the rest of the Widows, her laptop open in front of her.

That news was a more effective energy jolt than caffeine. Calina perked up and squeezed onto the bench beside Katya. “Who is it?”

“Salvatore Ranieri. The grandson of a wealthy Count based in Naples.”

Calina frowned. “Why would a member of the Italian aristocracy be funding Volkvo’s faction?”

Anya leaned back in her chair and began explaining. “The Ranieris used to be a big deal, but now they’re a family in decline. Not in terms of wealth, but in terms of relevance - when Italy became a republic in 1946, the recognition of nobility ceased. Salvatore probably spent his whole life hearing stories from his Grandfather about all the influence and power their family used to wield, and now they have none. From what I’ve been able to gather, its left Salvatore deeply angry and disaffected.”

“Basically, he’s a narcissistic man-child with a massive chip on his shoulder,” Katya summarised.

“Sounds like an easy mark for Volkov,” Calina added.

“Exactly,” Anya continued. “Being part of a secret organisation that seeks to manipulate world events from behind the scenes would definitely appeal to Ranieri. There’s also the small matter of him being a misogynistic man-whore.”

“Why does that matter?” Calina asked, not seeing the link.

“A misogynist, with a rumoured sadistic streak and a thirst for control and dominance would probably get off on the idea of ‘owning’ a group of mind-controlled women.”

“Gross,” Inessa said.

Calina agreed. But she also agreed with Anya’s assessment. She wouldn’t be surprised if Volkov had sweetened the deal with Ranieri with the promise of his very own Widow. A man who saw them as nothing but assets wouldn’t think twice about trading them away as part of a business venture.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, looking around the table. Several of the women dropped their eyes and looked away.

Again…weird.

“He’s too high profile to kidnap,” Yelena said. “Definitely too high profile to kill. Misogynistic womanisers are apparently popular with the Italian tabloids - especially when they’re handsome, rich, and party with movie stars. If something happened to him, the press would be all over it and the authorities would get involved. We need stealth for this one.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“We need to get close to him - close enough to clone his laptop and phone, and plant a few trackers - but in a way that completely avoids suspicion.”

It sounded a lot like the missions that Calina used to undertake for the Red Room. It was her speciality, in fact - getting close to a mark in order to steal their secrets, then leaving undetected. Which meant the strange tension in the room, and the lack of eye contact from her sisters, suddenly made a whole lot more sense. “You need me to do it,” she guessed.

Yelena sighed, and nodded. “Ranieri’s hosting a party at his family’s villa next month. It’s our best chance to get access to his private rooms. You’re fluent in Italian, and dressed in one of the tacky Eurotrash outfits that he likes, you’ll be guaranteed to catch his eye. You can do this in your sleep, Calina.”

“But that was before she had Matt,” Inessa said firmly. A few of the other Widows nodded in agreement.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “See?” she said to Calina. “Romantic bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit!” Inessa objected. “You can’t expect her to hookup with some random guy when she’s in a relationship with someone else.”

“No one’s asking her to sleep with him! Just flirt. Maybe a kiss or two. Enough to entice him up to his room where she can sedate him and get to work.”

Calina tuned out the argument as more of her sisters leapt to her defence. It was sweet of them to care, but this was her decision. And she agreed with Yelena. Not that romance was bullshit…but that there was no room for it here. The mission came first. Bringing down Volkov came first. She’d resolved to do whatever was necessary to gain her freedom and return to her life with Matt.

And this was necessary.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, it was a small sacrifice to make. It would be a relatively low-stakes mission. A simple honey trap, similar to dozens that she’d pulled off in the past.

“Maybe it’ll be good for her,” Yelena said, her arms crossed and an obstinate expression on her face. “She fell too hard and too fast for Murdock. A little distance would do her good.”

“Love is not a potato, Yelena,” Inessa objected.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Its a proverb. ‘Love is not a potato, you can’t just throw it out of the window’.”

Yelena groaned. “Not you too! We get enough of those asinine sayings from Calina.”

“I’ll do it,” Calina said, ignoring Yelena’s jibe.

“What?” Inessa said.

“Are you sure?” Katya asked quietly.

“Yes,” she answered. “This is our best - our only - lead at the moment, correct?” she asked the wider group.

“Yes,” Anya and Yelena responded at the same time.

“Then let’s see where it takes us.”

———

One month later…

Matt jogged up the stairs of his apartment building, checking the readout on his watch as he did so.

3:22pm.

Plenty of time.

The meeting was in an hour and it wouldn’t take long for Matt to grab the file from his apartment and make it back to the office. Karen had offered to get it, but it was Matt’s fault for forgetting it in the first place, so he’d made the trip. His friends were bending over backwards to be nice to him these days, but he didn’t want to take advantage of their sympathy. He just wanted to get on with his job. Do his part for the firm, and keep himself busy.

Keep himself distracted, as much as possible.

His life had pretty much returned to the way it was before Calina had entered it. He worked all hours of the day. He suited up and patrolled the city at night. He went for drinks with his friends - he’d even played fifth wheel during a double date with Karen, David, Foggy and Marci. He was living his life day-to-day, just trying to get by.

But all the while…he missed her.

Her absence was a constant. A low level discomfort, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. A forgotten word on the tip of the tongue. An ache in a phantom limb.

He tried to hide it from his friends. He tried to plaster over that feeling of loss with his diligence at work and his willingness to be sociable…but they saw through it, of course.

Hence, the sympathy and kindness.

“Guten tag, Matias.”

Matt slowed his brisk walk through the foyer to return the old woman’s greeting. “Afternoon, Mrs. Schneider.”

She paused in the act of unlocking her front door and rattled off a series of words in German. Matt only caught one of them: ‘Calina’.

He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know where she is. And I don’t know when she’ll be back,” he responded, figuring one of those statements would answer her question.

And it was the truth. He didn’t know where she was. Or what she was doing. How close she and her team were to gaining their freedom, or if she was safe…

He didn’t know anything, because he hadn’t heard from her in over a month.

39 days to be precise.

He was back to counting again.

New Years Eve had come and gone without her. As 2017 had ticked into 2018, a part of him had held out hope that she would appear. That he’d get another surprise visit, like the one at Christmas.

Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and that same hopeful part wondered if he would see her then.

As if they could punctuate this separation by marking the holidays.

It was a foolish thought, but it kept him going. The slim hope of seeing her - even if only for a night or just a few hours - helped him get through each passing day. And he knew that when February 14th came and went without her, he would pin his hopes on the next big occasion, whatever that was.

Probably St Patrick’s Day. The most romantic day of the year. She was bound to show up for that.

Matt huffed out a laugh at the sarcastic thought, and Mrs Schneider gave him a questioning look. He shook his head. “Its nothing. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He gave her a small wave goodbye, and made his way to the elevator bank.

Just as he reached his floor, his phone rang.

The phone rang. The burner that Calina had given him.

He almost dropped the device as he fumbled in his pockets for it. He carried it everywhere and always made sure it was fully charged, but it had remained silent and inert all this time. 

He quickly flipped it open, his heart hammering in fear. “Calina? Are you okay?”

There was no answer.

He froze in the middle of the corridor, the handset pressed tight against his ear as he tried to pick up a sound from the other end.

But there was nothing. Not even the gentle rasp of her breathing. “Calina?” he called again. “Are you there? Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

There was a faint click, as if she’d unmuted her speaker. Then she spoke, her voice small and hesitant. “N-No. I just…I just needed to hear your voice.”

Matt exhaled, his breath shaking with relief that she was okay.

Well…at least not in immediate danger. She didn’t seem okay. At all.

“What’s wrong, Callie?” he asked softly. He hadn’t heard her sound so despondent since the aftermath of the serum when she’d been a shell of her true self. And the fact that she was calling at all - when she’d been so adamant that their conversations could be monitored and tracked - scared him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” she finally answered after another few moments of silence.

But he didn’t believe her. Matt strained to hear what was going on in the background - to give him some clue as to where she was and what she was doing. He could detect her muffled steps as she paced barefoot on a carpet. There was the faint sound of traffic in the background, and a TV was on nearby - broadcasting a woman talking…in Italian?

Then a series of brisk knocks rang out in the silence between them. Calina gasped softly. “I have to go-”

“No, wait! Calina-”

“I love you,” she whispered quickly. Then hung up.

Matt quickly called her back the call went straight to voicemail. He flipped the phone closed with a curse and clenched the device with his hand, his grip so tight that the plastic casing started to creak.

He exhaled, and forced himself to relax - he couldn’t risk damaging his one connection to her.

He slowly and deliberately stowed the phone back in his pocket and took a few more deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart.

But it didn’t work.

The simmering frustration of the past few weeks boiled over. The agony of knowing Calina was out there somewhere hurting but that he couldn’t help her - and he didn’t even know what was wrong - suddenly spiked. He let out a primal yell and punched the solid wood of his door.

He punched until he felt the skin split over his knuckles. Until the jolt of the impacts ricocheted through his bones.

Until his cries turned hoarse, and he collapsed to his knees in the empty hallway.

———

Calina quickly snapped the phone closed and stashed it in her luggage. “Yes?” she called out to the person on the other side of the door.

It was Katya. “You almost ready?”

Calina glanced in the mirror. Her tears had bled mascara down her cheeks and her nervous lip-biting had worn away the siren-red lipstick.

She sighed. “I need another twenty minutes,” she replied.

“Got it. I’ll let the others know.”

Calina grabbed a wipe from her kit and scrubbed her face clean, then started re-applying her makeup.

She needed to look flawless.

Tonight was the culmination of weeks of hard work researching Salvatore Ranieri and honing the perfect cover to lure him into a trap.

She’d quickly determined that she needed to invent a persona that would tempt the playboy enough for a night, but not entice him so much that he’d go looking for her afterwards. And given that Salvatore was notoriously xenophobic - and looked down on anyone who was not Italian - she’d decided to create someone who was able to speak his language, but not be from Italy. Someone attractive and fun, with a common language, but a background that wouldn’t appeal to him long term. 

So she’d created Eliise Kask, a nouveau-rich ‘It girl' from Croatia - a country that boasted a minority Italian-speaking population.

During the weeks of preparation, she’d thought about everything. Every possible conversation starter. Every dress choice. The colour of her hair and the exact level of gaudiness of her jewellery. How to get him up to his room, and how to administer the drug that would knock him out.

But she’d never thought about how this moment would feel. She’d never thought about how it would affect her to be back in this situation, using her looks and body to trick a man - just like she’d been forced to do for years under the Red Room’s control.

Even though this time it was her choice, and it was for a good cause, and Ranieri was by all accounts a horrible human being…the justifications didn’t seem to help.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She hated the idea that she was doing this again. That she was right back in this position, after months of supposed freedom. That she was back pretending and manipulating, when all she wanted to do was be herself.

And be with Matt.

It had all hit her at once - the unfairness of the situation; the anger at having to do this mission; the self-loathing it was causing and the overwhelming homesickness for New York and the life she’d tried to build there. It had led her to break down in tears.

And in that moment of weakness, she’d called Matt.

She’d needed to hear his voice. She’d needed a tangible reminder of why she was putting herself through this. She’d needed his strength to help shore up her own.

But it had backfired.

Because now - on top of everything else she was feeling - she had the added guilt of betraying the man she loved.

She’d managed to avoid that aspect of the mission over the past month. She’d convinced herself that what she would have to do as Eliise Kask would have no bearing on her relationship with Matt. Because it would be Eliise getting close to Ranieri - not Calina.

But that reasoning wasn’t working for her anymore.

Right now, in this hotel room, in the centre of Naples, an hour away from entering Salvatore’s party, the guilt and shame was suddenly overwhelming.

She was dressed for another man, about to go flirt with another man, and possibly kiss another man…and she was so scared that Matt would hate her for it.

Because she hated herself.

She dropped her lipstick, put her hands on the countertop and leaned forward to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She let all the contempt and disgust show in her eyes. She let herself feel every drop of it. She let it course through her veins like acid, until she felt nauseous with it.

Then she buried it.

She forced it down deep, swallowing it with the bile burning the back of her throat…and smiled.

It was a wide, vacuous smile. It was Eliise Kask’s smile.

Because that’s who she needed to be tonight.

Calina didn’t matter. Calina’s thoughts and feelings didn’t matter. This mission was more important. They needed to get to Ranieri, because he would lead them to Volkov. And getting Volkov was the number one priority.

It took precedence over everything else.

Even her relationship with Matt.

That thought felt disloyal, but it was true. Because there could never be a relationship as long as Volkov was still out there.

So she needed to suck it up, and get this done.

Whatever it took.

Katya called through the door again. “You good to go, Calina?”

Calina blotted her lipstick, the siren-red back in place. “Yes,” she replied, no hesitation this time.

She slipped into her heels, picked up her clutch with the tranquillising drug safely inside, and fluffed up her hair. Then she opened the door and greeted her friend. “Let’s get this bastard.”

————–

CHAPTER 2

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @yanna-banana @chezagnes​ @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan​ @freckledbabyyy ​​

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[starrynightmuse]

You Owe Me A Debt: Chap 1

Masterlist / Next Chapter

Author's Note: This is definitely not a parody. You should take everything in this fanfic 100% seriously. This story is true to canon. It really happened. Trust me, I was there.

Story Summary: As the second son of King Visery's second wife, Aemond Targaryen is given only a small allowance. The measly funds were nowhere near enough to pay for the prince's daily necessities, such as his 16-step Olaplex haircare routine. The young prince is secretly forced to live on credit and he must count every last cent he spends. One day, someone steals his money, leaving Aemond penniless and angry. Will he be able to get his money back or will his broke ass be humiliated in front of court for not being able to pay his Klarnax installments for his sapphire?

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen (Rhaenyra's Daughter) but ironically.

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: This fic includes profanity, Aegon being Aegon, mentions of mommy issues, communism, and someone accidentally breaking a full-sized glass bottle of hair serum on the floor.

It should be warned that my sense of humor is atrocious too.

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Family Gathering

Words: 3.292k. Wtf did I write.

When his servants shuffled into his chambers to get him ready for the day, Aemond dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

It was not quite dawn yet; the light that came into his windows was still the dark, greyish blue of early mornings and the birds were yet to sing their first notes. Most people in the Red Keep were still sound asleep, but Aemond was an early riser. His servants would always enter his quarters before sunrise to help him get dressed and style his hair.

But today, he wanted to be alone to indulge in his morning ritual of self-care without any distractions. For Aemond, there was nothing more soothing than doing his hair by himself in the quiet hours of the morning before the world woke up.

The prince turned to his vanity. An unruly mess of long silver locks stared back at him through the mirror. About two dozen bottles of hair care products were perched neatly on the vanity, glass bottles all looking uniformly blue in the low light.

Time to begin my 16-step Olaplex hair care routine, Aemond thought, picking up his hairbrush.

By the time he completed all the steps, the first rays of sunlight had crept through the windows. Aemond checked his hair one last time in the mirror. Satisfied, he turned to his wardrobe, got dressed, and then made his way over to the desk at the far end of his room.

Aemond had once read in a book that one should always do the hardest task first thing in the day, and so he decided to tackle the issue of his finances.

He sat himself down and began pouring over his ledger. One look at the book's pages and it wouldn't take a financial genius to know that Aemond's funds were running dangerously low.

Especially after the purchase he made five months ago for the sapphire that was currently sitting in his eye socket.

For years, he had simply covered the empty hole with an eyepatch. But still the risk of infection was high, especially with how much sweat and dirt got into the gaping space as a result of his rigorous training schedule. He has had to endure years of the maesters invading his personal space every evening to clean it. It was an irritating ordeal that made Aemond feel even more of an invalid, and he decided that enough was enough and commissioned a sapphire to be fitted. Of course, his eye socket would still require cleaning, but not as often.

The downside to this was that the gem had cost a whopping 10,000 gold dragons that Aemond certainly didn't possess.

Aemond was the second son of the second wife of King Viserys, which meant that his allowance was small. Of course, Princess Rhaenyra, the king's favorite child, received the biggest slice of the pie, and after her came her sons (Rhaenyra had the audacity to churn out five sons). Then there was Aegon and Helaena, who used to get almost the same amount as Aemond, but that changed last year when they got married and had twins (and now Helaena was pregnant with another baby on the way). As per the rule, married royals were to be given more allowance than those who were single.

Aemond's slice of the pie had grown smaller and smaller and now he was barely scraping by. He'd had to pay for his sapphire with Klarnax instead, a recent startup in Westeros that lets you shop retail via installments. Aemond was on a 40-month plan and he'd been making payments of 250 gold dragons per month, plus a 2% interest.

Yesterday had been allowance day, but despite the new inflow of cash, after some calculations Aemond saw that it wasn't enough to cover all his expenses. Once he subtracted the cost of the birthday present he bought for Helaena last week, the ripped eyepatch he's had to replace, and the medicine for Vhagar's toothache (all of which he bought on his credit card) - there would only be enough leftover for his daily necessities, like his haircare.

There certainly wouldn't be any cash left for his sapphire.

Thankfully, Aemond wasn't a dumbass and knew how to save money, so he had a hidden stash of coins for emergencies. They were safely kept in a compartment underneath a loose stone below his vanity.

Aemond crouched down beneath the dressing table to carefully retrieve the bag of coins from the secret spot. Sitting down on the floor underneath the table, he quickly untied the drawstring of the bag and counted its contents.

Aemond let out a sigh of relief. He had just enough to pay his Klarnax installment for the month. He wouldn't have any leftover for savings but at least he'd break even.

It could be worse, I guess, he thought as he hummed to himself. At least I'm not Daeron. He's the youngest son so he's probably more broke than I am.

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Meanwhile, in Oldtown...

Daeron getting spoiled rotten by sugar daddy - sorry, I mean uncle - Gwayne Hightower.

Daeron: "Uncle Gwayne, I need some money to buy this gold-plated sword with a ruby-encrusted handle-"

Gwayne: "Done."

Daeron: "Uncle Gwayne, I need some money to buy this limited edition nutmeg-scented candle-"

Gwayne: "Done."

Daeron: "Uncle Gwayne, I need-"

Gwayne: "Done."

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Yeah, at least I'm not Daeron, Aemond thought, a chuckle escaping his lips. Poor dude.

Aemond's good mood didn't last long. The double doors to his chambers abruptly flew open. Still on the floor, Aemond jumped at the sudden noise and hit his head on the dresser above him.

What in the seven hells-

He rushed to hide his coins back under the loose stone and climbed out from under his vanity. Cursing under his breath at the throbbing pain in his head, he hastily straightened himself as his guard entered through the doors.

"Her Majesty Queen Alicent Hightower," the man announced.

Aemond sighed. Do mothers ever knock when they come into your room?

Alicent strolled in, her green gown flowing, looking every bit regal and poised as a woman of her position. But as she stopped in the center of the room in front of him, Aemond couldn't help but notice his mother's fidgeting. She had a habit of tugging at her nails when she was worried about something. She had always been an anxious person, but lately, he had noticed her nerves seemed to be getting the better of her. He couldn't blame her, though. With his father bedridden, his mother and grandsire were the ones tending to the matters of their realm. The politics of Westeros were enough to drive anyone mad.

"Aemond," said Alicent, putting on the sad friendly smile that she always did when she had bad news to share. "Your father has requested for our family to break fast together privately in his solar."

Aemond raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

The last time he had seen Viserys, the old king had been in a fit of coughing and wheezing and could barely string a sentence together. His father almost never asked them to dine together when he had been healthy, so Aemond hadn't expected such a request to come when he was sick.

"He asked all of us?" The young prince asked. Me, Helaena, and Aegon?

Alicent nodded. Aemond had a sinking feeling in his chest. After all the neglect he'd suffered from his father, he doubted Viserys would call him simply for a family meal. Aemond searched his mother's face, trying to find the reason behind the king's sudden request. But the queen seemed as lost in the dark as he was.

Alicent shifted on her feet uncomfortably. "I know that you and your father don't always see eye to eye-" Aemond pressed his lips in a thin line "-but his health is weak, and you must be on your best behavior."

She took his hands in hers, looking up at him with a seriousness in her eyes. "Please be civil towards your brother. Do not engage in his taunts," his mother pressed.

Aemond sighed but nodded respectfully. "Of course, mother."

Alicent made a move to leave the room but suddenly stopped in her tracks. She frowned and gave him a sideways glance.

"How many times have you worn that?"

Aemond instinctively looked down at the leather jacket he was wearing.

"This is the first time," he said.

Alicent narrowed her eyes. Before Aemond had a chance to protest, she marched towards his wardrobe and threw the doors open.

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Alicent Hightower was greeted with an unusual sight. Her son's wardrobe was jammed with rows upon rows of identical black jackets. They were all neatly organized, the jackets were paired with matching identical trousers, hanging on the same type of dark wooden hangers.

Alicent hesitated. She wondered what to make of this. Had her son developed some strange obsession with this particular article of clothing? Did the jackets somehow have a special meaning to him?

She slowly turned towards her son, a mixture of confusion and concern written across her face. Aemond was watching her with a sheepish expression.

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"Aemond, what is this?" the queen asked, not unkindly.

"My...clothes," said Aemond, the rising intonation at the end making it sound like a question. His mother raised an eyebrow at him.

"Your clothes?" she deadpanned.

"Hm."

Alicent was too stunned to speak, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the distant muffled noises of the Red Keep as the castle stirred awake.

"You have the same outfit on every rack," she said finally. Aemond gave a single awkward nod.

"Is there a reason you decided to buy the same outfit fifty times?" she asked,

Aemond shrugged. "It's practical. Cozy. Fits me well," he said nonchalantly. "I like it." What he meant to say was I look fucking hot in it and the ladies stare at me more when I wear it but he wasn't going to say that in front of his mother.

Alicent blinked. "Well, if its simply a matter of preference, we could get a tailor to come in for you and help you pick out similar designs that you'll enjoy-"

"That won't be necessary, mother."

"My dearest, you can't go around wearing the same fit each day," Alicent said. "Westeros Today has made serious allegations against you. They think you're an outfit repeater."

Aemond blanched. "But I'm not. I wear a new one each day."

Alicent sighed. "We must get you more variety for your wardrobe."

Aemond shook his head. "Please, mother."

Alicent looked pained. "Aemond-"

"They're cheaper if I buy them in bulk," he blurted out.

Alicent looked at him, astonished. She opened her mouth to say something but immediately closed it, deciding not to press him further.

The queen turned and left and the guards shut the door, leaving Aemond in silence once again.

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Aemond approached the doors to his father's quarters with a sense of trepidation, trying to steel himself for what was to come. A wave of nerves swept over him as he stared at the large wooden doors. But just as he was about to order the guards to open them, he heard a loud groan and turned to see Aegon staggering down the hall, his head in his hands.

He could tell from Aegon's eyes that he had been drinking all night. Again.

Aegon had no limits when it came to alcohol, so that wasn't surprising to Aemond. But what was surprising was the fact that his brother was awake before noon. Aemond could hardly believe his eyes - he had never seen Aegon up this early before. As his brother shuffled next to him, his limbs unsteady, Aemond felt like he was witnessing an exotic bird taken out of its natural habitat.

Aegon grumbled something under his breath.

"Morning," Aemond greeted stiffly, remembering to be cordial.

"Too fucking early," Aegon growled, his eyes still full of sleep. "What the fuck does he want at this hour?"

Aemond heard swift footsteps approaching and he spun around to see who it was. It was his mother, the queen, her hands clasped in front of her. Her personal guard, Ser Criston Cole, was following at a respectful distance behind her.

"Good morning, my dearest," she said to Aemond. His mother gave him a bright smile and placed a hand on his shoulder, gazing at him fondly. For a moment, it seemed as if her annoyance regarding his wardrobe was all forgotten.

But then Alicent turned to Aegon and her expression changed, as if she had suddenly been slapped by a smelly fish. The queen scrunched up her face in disgust at the sight of her eldest son.

Aegon, of course, seemed unbothered by her reaction, opting to smile lazily at her.

Alicent turned back to Aemond and her disgust smoothed back into a smile. "Shall we break our fast?"

Aemond hummed. Aegon grunted. Alicent signaled for the guards to open the doors.

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When Aemond entered the king's chambers, he heard the most horrible tune in all of the Seven Kingdoms. A godawful sound was blaring from his father's bluetooth speaker, which was perched right in the center of the dining table as if it were the star centerpiece.

King Viserys was sitting at the head. Despite looking like a zombie fresh from the grave, the king had a sparkle in his eyes and was tapping along to the music. Aemond's grandsire, Otto Hightower, was already seated at the left of the king, and Aemond could tell Otto was trying very hard to keep his face neutral. Helaena was seated next to Otto with her usual faroff expression.

The singer's atrocious vocals permeated the room. The closer Aemond got to the bluetooth speaker, the more he felt like his ears were going to burst and leave him being deaf on top of being half blind.

Wait a minute, Aemond thought to himself. This voice sounds familiar. Is that-

"Daemon's new masterpiece," Viserys said with a chuckle, grinning as if he had just discovered the most amazing thing in the world. "I thought we all could take a moment to enjoy it this morning. His album just got released today, and he was kind enough to send us a copy for free."

Yo, Lord Fleabottom is my name

Amongst the smallfolk is where I got my own fame

And I love serving cunt day and night

In the corner of his eye, Aemond saw Ser Criston make a face as if he were about to throw up, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Wordlessly, his mother took the seat to the king's right and Aegon collapsed on the chair next to her, leaving Aemond with the seat at the end. The end table was always reserved for Aemond so he could see everyone without giving himself a whiplash from turning his head too much.

As he sat down, Aemond tried his best to suppress the urge to ask the king to turn off the music. The song was so awful that it was hard to concentrate on anything else. This is going to be a long meal, Aemond thought as he started piling sausages on his plate.

"It's rap music," Helaena said dreamily, staring off into space.

Otto gave her a kind smile. "What did you say, my sweet?"

Helaena blinked, finally landing back on Earth. "It's rap music," she repeated.

Everyone stared at her with confused expressions, not quite sure what to make of her comment.

"It is a type a music from the modern times," Helaena explained. "Originating in the 20th century, it's characterized by fast-paced rhythmic beats and lyrics that are often spoken rather than sung. The music is usually accompanied by a beat made with electronic instruments."

"What are electronic instruments?" Aegon asked dumbly.

"Things we don't have in the medieval times."

"Oh," said Aegon, dejected. "Then how did Daemon get them?"

Helaena shrugged. "He's Daemon."

"Indeed, my brother is a genius," Viserys chirped. Alicent looked down at her plate like she was going to be sick.

I'm the prince, I'm the rogue, I'm the boss, no need to sing

I'm a dragon, fire and blood

You better bow down or I'll melt your asses

If you don't believe me, just ask Caraxes.

Despite the cacophonous "music" that invaded everyone's eardrums, the group slowly fell into a soft murmur of conversation. Viserys recounted tales of Daemon's adventures at the recording studio to Alicent as she forced awkward laughs, while Otto and Helaena were wrapped up in a discussion about ant colonies.

Aegon and Aemond were, too, in a lively conversation that consisted of both of them staring at the plates in front of them and keeping their mouths shut.

Aegon was the first to break their stoic silence.

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I am not high enough for this shit, Aegon thought. I am not high enough for this shit.

He snapped his fingers at one of the servants. "You. Get me a bottle of Arbor Gold."

"Absolutely not," snarled his younger brother. Aegon gave him a disapproving stare. The serving boy - a scrawny lad of around two and ten - appeared hesitant, turning his gaze back and forth between the two brothers.

Aemond gave the boy a piercing glare and he finally scurried off.

"What was that for?" Aegon said, shooting the younger prince a displeased look.

"It's seven in the morning. It's too early to drink," his brother hissed, keeping his voice low.

"It's never too early to drink, brother mine," said Aegon. "Besides-" his expression shifted into a sickenly sweet smile "-we should be celebrating Uncle Daemon's new album release."

"You will not make a fool of yourself in front of father," Aemond retorted, a cold and bitter undertone in his voice.

"Surely, I can't go higher than the new bar of tomfoolery that Daemon just raised," the elder prince said, still smiling.

"Aegon."

"Honestly, it's just some wine. Father doesn't mind anyway. I don't know why you're so desperate to be a good boy when he doesn't even pay attention to us-"

Aemond slammed his hand on the table, bringing the entire room to a standstill. Otto, Helaena, and Viserys gave him curious glances while Alicent widened her eyes in warning.

Aemond shifted awkwardly in his seat.

Daemon continued to rap through the bluetooth speaker.

Aegon sighed dramatically. I am not high enough for this shit. He swiftly stood up, the legs of his chair squeaking against the floor behind him.

"Excuse me, I'm feeling ill," said Aegon, pivoting on his feet to leave the chambers. He could feel their stares on his back as he walked out.

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Aemond remained at the king's solar for an additional half hour after his brother's departure. Viserys insisted that they listen to the entire length of Daemon's rap album, prolonging Aemond's stay to become much longer than he ever anticipated. He was in a sour mood when he finally escaped the chambers.

Aemond hurried back to his own quarters. The need to send his Klarnax payment was weighing heavily on his mind, and he wanted to send the raven as quickly as he could.

Aemond's train of thought was derailed upon entering his room, finding the glass bottle of his hair serum shattered on the floor. A sudden jolt of terror and panic rushed through his body.

"Fuck, not my serum."

He was moving towards the mess, assessing the damage, when he noticed that the stone underneath his vanity was crooked.

Aemond quickly ducked under the dresser to investigate. To his horror, he found that the hidden compartment beneath it was completely bare.

Someone had taken his money.

Chapter 2

Author's Note: This was a shitshow. Thank you for reading :) I credit @adria-draca for the first verse of Daemon's song. Check out this poem by them.

[sablebay]

summer, 1906

dearest mother, i can hardly believe it has been a year that edgar and i have been married! his latest manuscript has been picked up by a publisher, and with the funds we have been able to update parts of the cottage. it truly is such a lovely place, quiet and peaceful. so many mornings i see henry walk by on his way to fish at the pond - tell him next time stop in for tea! he knows i am an early riser, he will not be bothering us at all. we will need to host another supper soon. having you and father so close has been wonderful. i know edgar appreciates it as well. his family has moved into town as they need more room for their farm, but his mother alma comes to see us often as well. i can see why you two were such good friends, she's a lovely woman. i have quite fortunate to have a friend in my mother in law! i think i may get a cat. i need a small companion to keep me company when edgar goes to work. one last thing: do you have any of the baby things from when we were all small? no particular reason. though if you wanted to bring any by and stay for tea, it might be a good idea to do so soon. love, lucy reed

[unremarkablechap]

💊 @lil-miss-romano-romano popped a joy !

Fingers fumble through thick sheets of paper. Eyes dart across the print at a rapid pace, retaining every bit of information presented to him. At least, he would have, if he wasn't so bloody nervous. When was the last time he went on a date? Was it with Sally? Course, they never really went on any formal occasions, did they? They more caused issues for others, explored the islands, and committed a handful of felonies. Always taming her curiosities. Never touching on his. He scoffs at the expected irony.

But he really is trying to focus. Hand grabs at the mug of coffee and takes a sip. Black. The deep, earthy taste is what he loves. It's quite early in the morning. Did the woman say she was an early riser? He can't quite remember. Damn that blasted Joy; what with always ruining his short term retention. Brows furrow as he takes another sip. Eyes cast down to look at his reflection on the murky water. Oh, God. His nose... everyone always bullied him for it. Flashbacks of pointing fingers and hardy exhales of exuberated laughter. Was she going to notice it, too?

" It always seems to be when it counts the most that you really care about yourself... " Arthur murmurs. He sighs, lowering down the newspaper and looking around. Is she even going to appear on time? She doesn't seem like the type to stand up and bail. She was a proper, decent folk. Might even fit into the Parade back home, if she had the funds to handle it. Caramel gaze drifts from one end of the coffee shop to the next.

" Was I always this nervous about birds? Pru never really made me that anxious. " He recollects now. A horrible, nasty memory to have in the middle of trying to get to know another woman. Hypocritical, too. But, he couldn't help himself. The chap needed something, anything, to get the mind off of the idea of being a deep, horrendous failure of a man. Would she even fancy him at the end of everything?

[yegarts]

Edmonton Arts Council celebrates the achievements of 20 local professional artists

The Edmonton Arts Council, City of Edmonton, and Edmonton Community Foundation are pleased to announce the 2022 recipients of the Edmonton Artists’ Trust Fund awards.

Twenty (20) artists have been awarded a 2022 Edmonton Artists’ Trust Fund award. Each award is $15,000, for a total of $300,000. 

"We are so pleased to support and celebrate these 20 inspiring artists,” said Sanjay Shahani, Executive Director of the Edmonton Arts Council. “Our diverse arts community is one of the forces that brings our city together and makes the Edmonton region a vibrant and exciting place to live. The 2022 recipients demonstrate commitment and excellence in their respective disciplines, helping to foster an exciting ecology of creation and expression in Edmonton." 

“Congratulations to this year’s recipients of the EATF,” said Tina Thomas, CEO of Edmonton Community Foundation. “We are thankful for the creative contributions this cohort of recipients have made to our city, and we look forward to the new works that they will produce with support from this important initiative."

The Edmonton Artists' Trust Fund (EATF) recognizes an artist’s work and contribution to the community. The $15,000 awards provide financial stability for artists to renew, develop, create or experiment. These awards are supported by the proceeds from the Edmonton Artists’ Trust Fund, held by the Edmonton Community Foundation.

Recipients of the 2022 Edmonton Artists’ Trust Fund:

Clockwise from top left: AJA Louden, photo by Leah Louden; Ann Vriend, photo by Johwanna Alleyne; Connor Yuzwenko-Martin, photo by Alexa Hickox; Dylan Toymaker, photo supplied by the artist.

Adrian (AJA) Louden (he/him) is a Jamaican-Canadian artist committed to challenging the negative perceptions of street-based art and making art accessible and relatable. His Aerosol Academy series uses the lens of graffiti and street art to get youth excited about art making and art history, and he is an active mentor working to remove barriers and support emerging artists.     

Ann Vriend (she/her) is a two-time Maple Blues Award songwriting recipient, a Maple Blues Keyboardist of the Year nominee, an Edmonton Music Award and Alberta Centennial Award recipient, and has sold nearly 30,000 albums off-the-stage in her under-the-radar yet critically acclaimed international career. She is a passionate advocate for empowerment and respect for the members of her inner-city neighborhood of McCauley, Edmonton.     

Connor Yuzwenko-Martin (he/him) is a Deaf creator, public relations specialist, actor, producer, and playwright. He is currently writing and producing his first original script, After Faust, in partnership with RISER Edmonton. He is also launching The Invisible Practice, a hybrid Deaf arts collective and public relations agency.  

Dylan Toymaker (he/him) is a light design and installation artist. His focus is on creative placemaking through the sculpture of light and shadow. As a designer, creator and curator, his practice involves environmental and architectural public art events. Dylan has created and curated art for the Flying Canoe Volant festival and many other Alberta festivals.

Clockwise from top left: Gail Sidonie Šobat, photo by Geoff McMaster; Katrina Beatty, photo by Ian Jackson; Kevin Cardinal, photo provided by the artist; Lianna Makuch, photo by LV Imagery.

Gail Sidonie Šobat (she/her) is an author, creator-director of YouthWrite®, SpokenWord Youth/Adult Choirs, and is an instructor in MacEwan’s Communications program. Her work has won a number of awards, is published in academic and literary journals, anthologies, broadcast on radio, and performed on stage.     

Katrina Beatty (she/her) is a filmmaker whose work includes short and feature films, web series, music videos and multi-media projections. She was awarded “Outstanding Music Video” at FAVA Fest in 2018 for her concept and direction of Juno Award winning band Whitehorse’s video “Pink Kimono”. More recently, Katrina produced the Telefilm funded feature film Before I Change My Mind, which premiered at the Locarno Film Festival in August 2022.   

Kevin Cardinal (he/him) is a Cree acrylic painter/muralist who uses art to represent teachings, principles, knowledge, and understandings gained from attending ceremonies throughout the years. Kevin’s work reflects his search for inner peace, healing, and balance. His painting style is inspired by the bold black lines, and vibrant colors of the woodland style of art. 

Lianna Makuch (she/her) is a Ukrainian Canadian playwright, performer, director, and co-Artistic Producer of Pyretic Productions. Her work has garnered awards and recognition nationally and in Ukraine, including the Shevchenko Foundation’s 2020 REACH Award. By exploring themes connected to her Ukrainian identity, she endeavours to create empathetic performance experiences with universal impact.   

Clockwise from top left: Lindsey Walker, photo by Briane Jang; Louise Casemore, photo by Jody Christopherson; Madeline LeBlanc, photo provided by the artist; Mat Cardinal, photo provided by the artist.

Lindsey Walker (she/her) is an award-winning singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, composer, and theatre performer. Lindsey wrote the score and lyrics for ren & the wake, an original semi-immersive musical created with Catch the Keys Productions. She also composed the score for the podcast “Natural Life” and composed the sound design for the theatre productions Re:Construct (Donkey Dog Theatre) and Shock Me Electra (Theatre Network Young Company).    

Louise Casemore (she/her) is an advocate, performer, and two-time Sterling Award winning playwright. Original works include OCD, GEMINI, and Undressed, which recently premiered with Alberta Theatre Projects. She remains active in the national community by way of dramaturgy, research, and as an Artist Consultant focused on HR mechanisms for arts organizations.   

Madeline LeBlanc (she/her) is a visual artist who strives to create inclusive spaces for audience participation, highlighting issues of accessibility in the industry. Her artwork may appear lighthearted and fun, but beneath the surface lies important commentary on the dynamics of classism in the art world and the pressure put on artists and markets by art collectors.   

Mat Cardinal (he/him) is from Wabasca, Alberta and a proud member of the Bigstone Cree Nation. Mat is the lead singer of The Prairie States, a nine-time Country Music Alberta Award recipient and nominee for Songwriters of the Year 2022 at the Canadian Country Music Awards. Mat takes his role as a mentor for Indigenous youth seriously as his hard work/passion for performing/songwriting make waves in the music industry.  

Clockwise from top left: Michelle Campos Castillo, photo by Fern Facette; Mouraine, photo provided by the artist; Nauzanin Knight, photo by Motif Photography; Reckie Lloyd, photo provided by the artist.

Michelle Campos Castillo (she/her) is a graphic designer and artist born in El Salvador. She has received several public art commissions from the City of Edmonton, including Platanos at the Belvedere Transit Centre, and is finalizing artwork for the Valley Line West LRT. She is currently working on a graphic memoir titled Colonia, based on her life in El Salvador during the country’s civil war.   

Mouraine (he/him), who immigrated from Sudan at an early age, makes soulful hip-hop with a reverence for place and community, and a strong political sensibility. His debut EP Bigger Dreams was released in 2021. 

Nauzanin Knight (she/her) is the CEO/Director of 1844 Studios. She got her start as a published writer, going on to write, direct and produce numerous films. Nauzanin is an alumnus of Women in the Director’s Chair, Sundance Collab (2020), BANFF Spark (2020) and ReelWorld (2021). An ardent contributor to her community, Nauzanin has led projects including, “Building Inclusive Networks in the Film & Television Industry” (Telefilm, CMF, 2021).   

Reckie Lloyd (he/him) is a visual artist and the founder of Sangea Academy, a West African drumming and dance entity that shares the power of percussion with Canadians. During the Covid 19 Pandemic, Reckie found himself rediscovering his love for fine arts, refining his painting techniques and creating from a mature perspective.

Clockwise from top left: Robbie Townsend, photo provided by the artist; Tai Amy Grauman, photo by Emilie Igiotti; Vikki Wiercinski, photo by Cooper O'Hara; Tia Ashley Kushniruk, photo by Kendra Epik.

Robbie Townsend (AKA Father Bobby) (he/him) is a Juno nominated music producer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. He has built a reputation as an artist-focused producer, placing value on the song above all else, with the goal to create a specific colour palette for each project he takes on, helping artists discover, shape and redefine their sounds.  

Tai Amy Grauman (she/her) is an actor, playwright, director and producer of Métis, Cree and Haudenosaunee heritage. She is currently defending her thesis for her MFA in theatre practice at the U of A with a focus on her artistic research of 'Metis women's love stories' and is adapting 'Romeo and Juliet: A Metis love story' as well as adapting her play 'You used to call me Marie...' into a limited film series.   

Tia Ashley Kushniruk (亚 女弟) (she/her), a queer woman of Chinese-Ukrainian settler heritage, has been affiliated with the Cirque Du Soleil since 2013 and is a frequent collaborator of Jake W. Hastey (Toy Guns Dance Theatre). Tia is the inaugural recipient of the CONFLUENCE Fellowship from Catalyst Theatre and is a current company member of Shay Kuebler/RSA. In addition to theatre and dance, Tia is also an illustrator and animator.  

Vikki Wiercinski (she/her) is an artist, ceramicist and designer focused on weaving together ceramic sculpture and drawing. She also works as the lead organizer of the Royal Bison Art and Craft Fair and creates textile and surface designs for her Mezzaluna Studio project.

[thatrandombystander]

Collecting figurines is like. My Thing. So I'm over here with a FULL LIST of stuff to eventually get for my collection or to ✨enhance✨ the display.....

Got some figs currently in pre-orders (need to make sure I've got the funds aside for them)

There's some other figs I'm interested in getting or trying to find in the aftermarket, and I'm having a significant increase in income very soon (aka finally having a salary) so I might start looking to slowly work through those

I've currently got a Detolf display cabinet but it's practically going to be overfull within a few weeks (plus I've decided I don't particularly like the Detolf) so I'm gonna upgrade to a Milsbo at some point

Uhhh gotta sort out a lighting set-up. Idk LED strips or whatever other people use

I've got a lot of Nendoroids and Nendoroid bases are kinda clunky ugly looking squares, but this person sells some nicer looking slightly smaller but still functional circle bases

Gonna want some risers to improve display and space management, particularly interested in using these hexagon risers for the Nendoroids (I just wish I could find anything similar on a site that ISN'T Am*zon)

As much as I like having glass shelves and front and side walls for a display case, I'm not too enthused about the glass at the back, so I'd be interested in figuring out some sort of backplate display option like this site makes, but a) maybe not as busy as a photoplate, an appropriate flat colour or non-in your face pattern or image would work, but b) I'd need to make it myself/get it custom made because that sort of thing ain't available for a Milsbo

I just have the personality that's like. "Well if I'm going to have an expensive collection. I might as well make it a REALLY NICE looking collection, so we need to spend a bunch of money on enhancing it" 😔

But like. Slowly. We'll see how long this all takes.

[kmp78]

I never imagined what would happen if Lordy brought GTGT on stage during the NY show because it seemed like an impossibility..

but what if he did?

🤪

The entire audience would shit their pants!!

We need to start a go fund me campaign for the workers at the NY show!

Her prancing alone on a riser would just be tooooooo epic... 😂💃🏻

[xtruss]

Night Owls’ Cognitive Function ‘Superior’ To Early Risers, Study Suggests

Research on 26,000 People Found Those Who Stay up Late Scored Better on Intelligence, Reasoning and Memory Tests

— Anna Bawden | Wednesday 10 July 2024

People who slept between seven and nine hours a night scored higher in cognitive tests. Photograph: haydenbird/Getty Images

The idea that night owls who don’t go to bed until the early hours struggle to get anything done during the day may have to be revised.

It turns out that staying up late could be good for our brain power as research suggests that people who identify as night owls could be sharper than those who go to bed early.

Researchers led by academics at Imperial College London studied data from the UK Biobank study on more than 26,000 people who had completed intelligence, reasoning, reaction time and memory tests.

They then examined how participants’ sleep duration, quality, and chronotype (which determines what time of day we feel most alert and productive) affected brain performance.

They found that those who stay up late and those classed as “intermediate” had “superior cognitive function”, while morning larks had the lowest scores.

Going to bed late is strongly associated with creative types. Artists, authors and musicians known to be night owls include Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, James Joyce, Kanye West and Lady Gaga.

But while politicians such as Margaret Thatcher, Winston Churchill and Barack Obama famously seemed to thrive on little sleep, the study found that sleep duration is important for brain function, with those getting between seven and nine hours of shut-eye each night performing best in cognitive tests.

Dr Raha West, lead author and clinical research fellow at the department of surgery and cancer at Imperial College London, said: “While understanding and working with your natural sleep tendencies is essential, it’s equally important to remember to get just enough sleep, not too long or too short. This is crucial for keeping your brain healthy and functioning at its best.”

Prof Daqing Ma, the co-leader of the study who is also from Imperial’s department of surgery and cancer, added: “We found that sleep duration has a direct effect on brain function, and we believe that proactively managing sleep patterns is really important for boosting, and safeguarding, the way our brains work.

“We’d ideally like to see policy interventions to help sleep patterns improve in the general population.”

But some experts urged caution in interpreting the findings. Jacqui Hanley, head of research funding at Alzheimer’s Research UK, said: “Without a detailed picture of what is going on in the brain, we don’t know if being a ‘morning’ or ‘evening’ person affects memory and thinking, or if a decline in cognition is causing changes to sleeping patterns.”

Jessica Chelekis, a senior lecturer in sustainability global value chains and sleep expert at Brunel University London, said there were “important limitations” to the study as the research did not account for education attainment, or include the time of day the cognitive tests were conducted in the results. The main value of the study was challenging stereotypes around sleep, she added.

[arp1advocate]

7. Recent Assessment Increase approved without proper planning

           In the November 2022 Board meeting, the President raised the issue of an increase in the annual homeowner assessment. I asked him what the plan was that supported an increase. He asked me what I meant and I repeated, “what is the plan supporting an increase”, he turned to the Treasurer and the Treasurer said “electricity has gone up ten percent”. The President then said “ten percent OK the increase will be $20 per semiannual assessment”. That’s all of the logic and planning that went into the assessment increase. Previously, and in the June 2022 Newsletter, the President stated what other HOAs are paying as though that is the measure of something. Unfortunately, we have no idea what those HOAs are supporting and what their need for money is. However, you will notice that lake homes pay a higher rate than non-lake homes (see 2. Hanson Lake above and June 2022 Newsletter attached (Photo 1).

A $20 assessment increase per homeowner twice a year equals $61,200.00 per year ($20 semiannual assessment increase x 1530 homes x 2 semiannual payments) that won’t cover replacing the large trees that were removed from Union Hills much less the trees that may be removed from other areas around the community (Agave proposal). A homeowner asked at the last meeting about replacing the trees that needed to be removed and was not given an answer.

           We need to do something more realistic with the irrigation system. Through Octoberwe spent $104,979.02 over and above the monthly landscape maintenance fee, an additional $14,960.00 (irrigation system and sod) was for the work at 71st Ave and Union Hills to replace grass that had died; Union Hills irrigation system was turned off for a period of 18 months (see note in red page 4). One of the costs is replacing valves with scrubber valves which attempt to break up the debris. Replacing the valves with scrubber valves isn’t the answer as we still have the same problem except now the “debris’ is pushed through the system to the sprinkler risers.

           In reality the place to stop debris is at the entry point preventing the debris from entering the system either with a filter or by raising the intake from the bottom of the lake or combination of both. What we really need is a study of the irrigation system the product of which will be a report/proposal that provides real solutions. The study cannot be conducted by pseudo irrigation “experts” working in local landscaping companies.

           A proposal for such a study has been received from Coates Irrigation (see irrigation above).

           Our operating costs are going to go up not just due to inflation but because of the big-ticket things we need to do over the next several years just so we can establish a stable environment for which realistic maintenance that meets our requirements can then be reasonably “fixed” and met. Operating costs, inflation, planned Capital Improvements and maintaining the reserves combined should determine our “rate” increase. Capital Improvements should be planned over five, seven or ten years, be clearly documented and updated annually so that future HOA Boards understand the plans. Reserves are usually used to set aside funds for unforeseen events like catastrophic damage or loss, etc. and not meant for “routine” expenditures (landscape improvements, etc.). 

Longer term, if we fix the irrigation debris problem, negotiate a realistic landscape maintenance contract, etc. our costs should settle and be on a firmer basis for the future.           

[crociereincostiera]

Sail to Paradise on a Budget: Unveiling the Best Italy Cruise Deals and Cheap Cruise Deals

Is it safe to say that you are longing for a charming journey to Italy, investigating its pleasant coasts, memorable urban communities, and flavorful cooking? If you thought such an excursion was past your spending plan, reconsider!

In this article, we'll direct you through the universe of the Best Italy Cruise Deals and tell you the best way to find modest journey arrangements that permit you to leave on your fantasy excursion without burning through every last cent.

Investigating Best Italy Cruise Deals

Italy is a gold mine of social legacy, shocking scenes, and divine culinary encounters. At the point when you book one of the most mind-blowing Italy cruises, you get the potential chance to investigate this charming nation in style, all while partaking in the solaces of a journey transport.

You can anticipate this and enjoy the breathtaking cruise vacation all along the journey:

Italian Marvels:

Voyage schedules in Italy frequently incorporate stops at notable objections like Venice, Florence, Rome, and the Amalfi Coast. These journeys let you drench yourself ever, workmanship, and normal excellence.

Installed Solace:

Voyage sends that explore the Mediterranean, including those meeting Italy, offer first-class conveniences, for example, connoisseur feasting, spa medicines, amusement, and unwinding by the pool.

Culinary Pleasures:

Enjoy valid Italian food and fine wines while installed, and appreciate nearby flavors during inland feasting encounters.

Spending plan well disposed:

While Italy is famous for extravagance, you don't need to spend a fortune to encounter its excellence. Best Italy Journey Arrangements take care of scope of spending plans, making it open for all explorers.

Step-by-step instructions to Find the Best Italy Cruise Deals

While looking for the ideal Italy journey at a financial plan accommodating cost, think about the accompanying procedures:

Plan Ahead of time:

Booking your Italy journey well ahead of time can bring about critical investment funds. Journey lines frequently offer timely riser limits and advancements.

Adaptable Travel Dates:

In the event that you have adaptability in your itinerary, search for travels during the shoulder season or last-minute arrangements. These choices can give significant limits.

Buy into Alarms:

Buy into voyage bargain alarms on sites, web-based entertainment, or email pamphlets. Along these lines, you'll be quick to become familiar with the most recent advancements.

Travel Planner Aptitude:

Counseling a travel planner who has practical experience in travel can be priceless.

Finding Cruise Deals

While investigating Italy is a fantasy for some, you can likewise find Cheap Cruise Deals to different objections around the world. This is how it's done:

Off-Pinnacle Travel:

Repositioning Travels:

Journey Line Devotion Projects:

Bunch Appointments:

The Bottom Line!!

You don't need to exhaust your pockets to encounter the magnificence of Italy or leave for a wonderful voyage experience. With the right methodology and a little examination, you can reveal the Best Budget Cruises that suit your financial plan. In this way, begin arranging your fantasy journey today, and prepare to sail to heaven without the monetary concerns. Bon journey!