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tiptapricot · 1 year

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Happy 1000 followers! That's definitely a number worth celebrating :D. Here are some asks for your Ask Game; don't worry about answering them all, these are just some questions I thought of, free free to answer whichever ones you want to. :3

What got you into writing?

Is there any books or piece of media that inspired your style of writing, or did it develop in some other way?

What character(s) do you enjoy writing the most and why?

Are there any character(s) or fandom(s) you love that you'd love to write for but never have?

Are there any hobbies or interests you have that you find leak into and/or influence your stories?

When did you embrace the ways of the apricot? (That is to say, when and why did you commit to the bit and start creating your marvellous collection of apricot icons?).

Hope you're doing well :). Enjoy your fame, my friend! 🧡🧡🧡

I will answer 🔥 ☠️ ALL OF THEM 🎸🔥 *sick riff*

What got you into writing?

I don’t really remember a specific point of Getting Into It, because (and this def plays a part) my dad is a writer! He’s written for some video games and has some short stories published, so I grew up with him reading me books and writing his own manuscripts/engaging us in that way. He never like Guided me into writing but it was always a natural presence and I was exposed to a lot of stories early on.

We did nanowrimo in elementary school, and I also made comics when I was younger that were my own narratives and things, and I did a few small stories for other classes along the way, but when I started Really doing it more intentionally was when I got into fic writing. Which… what got me into that was I think like… danganronpa self insert things? That’s my ultimate lost fic. I wrote it in the notes app in middle school and it was super long and then I hated it and deleted it all and I’m SO MAD ABOUT IT because IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY TO LOOK BACK ON NOW! It was kind of just a natural progression though I guess? When I started reading fic more and being online more and getting into more media, I wanted to create for it since I’d already been doing that sort of thing (most comics I did were inspired by superhero shows I watched or DND games I played) so I stated posting. And then I did more original stories for school and started making ocs and it just sorta settled into being part of what I do.

Is there any books or piece of media that inspired your style of writing, or did it develop in some other way?

None consciously? And I can’t really trace my style to anything in specific, but there’s def got to be some input from the books I grew up on. Stuff like series of unfortunate events, larklight, the leviathan trilogy, the keys to the kingdom series, the Roman mysteries series, the Lockwood and co series, Harry Potter to an extent, etc. all were things that I was exposed to growing up. I don’t think I’ve really picked up the quippy narration a lot of those have, but I know they shaped some ideas of description and imagery I do now, at least in inspo. But I guess on a whole it just sort of developed naturally? I really don’t have a very conscious writing process half the time 😭

What character(s) do you enjoy writing the most and why?

At the moment and also in general I like characters that have strong voices. They make the prose pop for me, make it easy to find fun descriptions and forms of speech. Bill and Ted and Steven Grant definitely come to mind immediately as like. When I get to write them stuff just goes fast because I know how they’d talk and narrate and react and it feels like something very solid to shape and work with. So accents? I guess? But on a larger sense of just characters I Like Writing… MK system are all very fun and I really enjoy getting to explore their dynamics and reactions. If I ever get my hands on Din Djarin for a fic (finally) I think I’ll have a good time with him, but idk. I think it’s very dependent on the interests I’m into at the time, as those will be the characters I’m the most excited to engage with and create for, so it varies!

Are there any character(s) or fandom(s) you love that you'd love to write for but never have?

THE ZETA PROJECTTTT!!! AND ALSO MORE OF LEGION 2006 ANDDD THE DCAU ANDDDD MORE LUKE N DIN N ORIGINAL TRILOGY CAST AND THE DAREDEVIL NETFLIX CAST AND MISS FISHERS MURDER MYSTERIES AND TIGER AND BUNNY AND— Ahem. Yes there are and they torment me every day wanting to get to create for them but having finite brain space and time space makes writing everything all the time… a bit hard. I kind of want to do a like niche interest power hour week or somth where I take fandoms I haven’t written for and make a small piece for them—WOLF 359 ALSO GOOD GOD!!!!!!!! But I don’t know when that will be.

Are there any hobbies or interests you have that you find leak into and/or influence your stories?

Not generally, but whenever I’m writing a character as having an interest in something or really liking something in depth it often has to be something I’m also into for me to be able to do research on it. This can mean I sometimes have to find middle grounds between what a character might find fascinating and what I find fascinating, so sometimes my interests are directly or indirectly in stories. Lost media I know has made it in a few times, and so has sci fi and superheroes and action figures. I don’t really have a whole ton of hobbies that are easy to slot in or draw from on a large scale otherwise, as niche toy collecting, a love for stickers and earrings and clown paraphernalia, and performing arts are only applicable under certain circumstances.

INTERESTS is a whole diff thing. My monster/inhuman character love, my love for certain genres or aesthetics, etc. influences ALLLLL of my OCs and a lot of my fics. Stuff that focuses on loving the strange, or the inanimate, or the weird crossover between the two is in a lot of my work (and will be in more haha) but definitely colors the types of stories I want to do, and the original content I end up making outside of fic.

When did you embrace the ways of the apricot? (That is to say, when and why did you commit to the bit and start creating your marvellous collection of apricot icons?).

THIS ACTUALLY HAS DOCUMENTABLE HISTORY!! Ok so.

The username Tiptapricot was what I came up with when I made my Minecraft account in elementary school. I liked apricots and peaches and plums and stuff (still do) so that was part of it, but I was also into semi-tap dancing (AKA being a young kid with some cheap tap shoes from somewhere and doing performances) so tip-tap and apricot combined and… there we were. It became my standard name on sites when I had to make accounts (bar like animal jam I think because it was maybe made earlier), since it was never taken and it was unique enough to slot in.

I guess as I was maybe making an Instagram account or going into highschool or just… for some reason, my sister @dimidarling wanted to make me a cute icon and, based off my username, drew me a little apricot with a face for one! This created what I now call… Prototip on July 14th, 2019

This icon was very cute and I loved it a lot, but it wasn’t quite the vibe I was wanting for myself, so I ended up getting a PNG of an apricot, slapping it on a blue background from looking up “light blue” on Google, and drawing a little face on it. That became the Default Base Tip as is seen in my icon most places, in December of 2019

FUN FACT you will never unsee after I say it: I think at some point I resized or re-edited the image or something, and I wanted to carry over the original face I had drawn on it, so I ended up cutting it out and pasting it over a face I didn’t like as much, and on the left side of Tip’s face (our right) u can see this tinyyy little black mark showing the edge of the main face cut out because I didn’t get it perfectly covered or aligned. I’m sorry in advance.

ANYWAY! So base Tip was made. I don’t remember the following order of events, but still being in my kpop phase in late 2019 I got Twitter briefly and made a Tiptapricot account there. And having an apricot with a face I thought: wouldn’t it be so funny if I was a gimmick account that pretended to be a real life apricot tweeting? So I did that for like a little bit. And then I went: wouldn’t it make the bit even better if this apricot was appropriately apricot aged? And long story short I changed my age to be a year old, then realized that would probably be bad legally, but when changing it back to my actual birthday, Twitter freaked out and banned me for messing around with my age and not being old enough when I made an account (even though I was at the time) so I got booted off Twitter. (And I’m glad about that can you imagine if I had settled in there instead oh lord) But the seed for apricot jokes was planted!

From there it happened somewhat naturally as a way to either make reaction images for friends online without sending my face, or to change my icon to play along with a funny joke. I made edits for friends in the DC fandom and for jokes we had running about each other going to jail or like “I’m gonna beat you up” or whatever, and joined along with a growing bit of giving me Tip related names, it became something I Did.

Now my Tip folder is 200 images strong and my mascot/sona/little guy is somth I actually care a lot about and have a lot of fondness for as a way to express goofy stuff and emotions in a way that’s simple to draw and feels rly truly me.

And there you have it :-D The Ti(nfodum)p

Ty for the questions Charlie, they were super fun to answer!!

(IDs in ALT)

1000 follower celebration

#whoooooo boy that’s a lot lol #hope you guys like the me lore drop #the fruit is talking again #the fruit is answering again #1000 tip fruits

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constancelaufeydottir · 3 years

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #neighbour bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

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dahlia-coccinea · 3 years

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When I was writing about the parallels between the 1st and 2nd generations I was reminded of a excerpt in Chapter 31 that I’ve always thought was interesting - it happens right after Lockwood witnesses Hareton and Cathy having a fight:

...his agitation precluded further speech; he advanced hastily to the entrance, where I made way for him to pass. But ere he had crossed the door-stones, Mr. Heathcliff, coming up the causeway, encountered him, and laying hold of his shoulder asked,—“What’s to do now, my lad?”

“Naught, naught,” he said, and broke away to enjoy his grief and anger in solitude.

Heathcliff gazed after him, and sighed.

“It will be odd if I thwart myself,” he muttered, unconscious that I was behind him. “But when I look for his father in his face, I find her every day more! How the devil is he so like? I can hardly bear to see him.”

He bent his eyes to the ground, and walked moodily in. There was a restless, anxious expression in his countenance. I had never remarked there before; and he looked sparer in person.

I’ve sometimes wondered if his comment about thwarting himself has two meanings - he could simply be noting that he is letting his sympathy and connection to Hareton get in the way of his revenge, but I think it also could be read as his awareness that he’s made Hareton in his own image and because of that it would be essentially thwarting himself by causing conflict between Cathy and Hareton.

A few years earlier he told Nelly, “I can sympathize with all his feelings, having felt them myself. I know what he suffers now, for instance, exactly: it is merely a beginning of what he shall suffer, though.” Why would he want to watch Hareton go through all the same suffering as he did? Their relationship (Cathy/Hareton’s), although bringing intense suffering and reminders of the past, does also seem to be what reorients Heathcliff away from revenge and back to Catherine.

Right after this Heathcliff invites Lockwood to stay for dinner with him and Hareton, but to Catherine he says,“You may get your dinner with Joseph...and remain in the kitchen till he (Lockwood) is gone.” This is odd because for as much as he dislikes her presence he normally has them all eating at the same table, and he adds that she’s to remain away until Lockwood is gone. It’s clear Lockwood is attracted to Cathy and I think that is the likely reason for him sending her away. Now, that could completely be because Heathcliff doesn’t want her to run away with Lockwood since he is controlling, and also that she is a part of Catherine that he possess. But since it does follow immediately after Heathcliff showing sympathy for Hareton I have wondered if at least part of his motivation is to not give Lockwood the chance to get closer to her for Hareton’s sake. Doesn’t it make sense that if Heathcliff could do it all over again he would make sure he didn’t lose Catherine? Why wouldn’t he do the same for the “personification of [his] youth”?

#i feel like either this is a really common take or i'm just reading way too into it idk #wuthering heights #hareton earnshaw #heathcliff #catherine linton #thoughts

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rorybergstrom · 4 years

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𝑫𝑰𝑫 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑩𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑲𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑻𝑯 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑫 ???

hello, it’s nora again…. hitting u with another child. a south london-born softboi who deserves tenderness. has a burner phone and doesn’t use social media. does techno dj sets. plays the synth loudly through the night if u live in gorham his room always sounds like a space ship just landed. deals weed around campus on his rollerskates. hates that he can’t get new light up wheels because ana coto made rollerskating cool again. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board. this intro is recycled?? so if theres mistakes, sue me??? and be sure to like and subscribe for more unboxing content x

application.

『 FIONN WHITEHEAD ❙ DEMI-MALE』 ⟿ looks like RORY BERGSTRÖM is here for HIS JUNIOR year as a MUSIC TECHNOLOGY student. HE is 23 years old & known to be ECCENTRIC, FANATICAL, NITPICKY & DOGMATIC. They’re living in GORHAM, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ ooc name. age. tz. pronouns.

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some. right now is dad to one cat, whose name changes on a daily basis (identity is constantly shifting, duuuuude), but they were originally named ‘wheezer’

rory has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where he fits yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones, floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes: weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… is very tender and tame… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

hm now that rory has !Evolved! ig we can do hook up plots if u want but he’s not tht good at divorcing sex from emotion?? like he hooked up w teddy once n felt hopelessly inlove so..... if u want soft plots b prepared for crippling sadness.......

stay groovy XD XD

#radintro #plot with me cowards #said in a very soft and tender way. whispered. im but a small bug in a gutter.

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zalrb · 5 years

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This account on twitter said this “stefan’s weird and everyone’s just fine with it. he follows elena to a graveyard then takes her journal and shows up at her house without knowing her at all to give it back & instead of questioning it she invites him to hang w her friends but NOOOO damon’s the creep for 3 seasons”

I HAD TO LET THEM KNOW. I responded like so..

I don’t see it that way. How? Sure Stefan wanted to know elena and build a life with her, but there was no way of knowing she would even want the same. There was no way he would have calulated her feelings for him. there was no guarantee she would even feel the slightest same for him. Literally all stefan did was bump into her. Later on in the ep, they meet again at the cemetery because Damon followed her with the crow and scared her with the fog. Damon was literally the reason as to why they met for a second time... after meeting, Elena leaves and forgets her journal. When Stefan returns her journal (of course he knows where she lives because he MADE SURE she was NOT Katherine who had “died” in 1964 or whatever the date was. After returning the journal, SHE invites him to the grill. So after talking in font of her home, for her, he is a mystery and what’s to get to know him better. So again, SHE INVITES HIM to the grill to know him and her friends. He didn’t anticipate that be her reaction..they go together and there he meets Caroline and Bonnie and Matt for like a second. There, they all talk semi about each other’s life and Stefan talks about his parents, about elenas parents and about bonnies past. Caroline INVITES him to a party that happens every year. He says he’ll go if Elena goes as well and Elena now is already like “this man is 😘” hahaha. There at the party, they talk about Matt and their recent breakup. Also that the party, elena talks more about her parents car crash and her brother, and how she’s sad. Stefan lets her know “you won’t be sad forever Elena” In the final few minutes of the first episode, we meet Damon. We learn that Damon was also stalking Elena and threatened to hurt Elena to get Stefan to drink human blood. I went on to say, In the comet episode (2nd episode) , SHE goes to HIS house. Then later on at the Lockwood party, they meet again while looking at the comet. There she’s kind of angry at Stefan because she learns about Katherine, because of what Damon told her, and she (K) basically was the the love of his life, or so she thought. After her speech (we met and it was epic) she leaves him. What does Stefan do? He GIVES HER SPACE, he doesn’t go or chase after her. What happen later in the ep? SHE went BACK to HIS house on HER own. Again, he couldn’t have known she would do that. He CONTINUES TO RESPECT HER... There at the house, she tells him the truthc, her REAL FEELINGS. she lets him know her feeling about losing her parents and how she’s scared of being happy for one scared and how she writes everything that bundled up in her mind in her journal to make an understanding of her emotions. Even after their “first” argument if you well, she decides SHE wants to know him. She feels safe with him because he’s real and doesn’t “fake it” when being around her. (Everyone around her is fragile, and scared to say or do the wrong thing), i.e Caroline. She’s uses a journal entry example, “I would write..."Dear diary, today I convinced myself it was ok to give up. Don't take risks. Stick with the status quo. No drama, now is just not the time. But my reasons aren't reasons, they're excuses. All I'm doing is hiding from the truth, and the truth is that..." I'm scared, Stefan. I'm scared that if I let myself be happy for even one moment that...the world's just going to come crashing down, and I...don't know if I can survive that”. We know after bumping into Stefan, her and Bonnie text one another “hottie looking at you”, she’s happy, cheerful & smiling due to Stefan. Stefan responds with “you wanna know what i would write” I would write “we talked, and it was epic and the set came up and reality set in. Well this is reality, right here”. From then on, her gives her the necklace to protect her from compulsion against Damon and his own. Literally, everything he does is based on what ELENA wants. I added, in 1x07 Lexi asks stefan if he told her about his vampire side and he says “she has to want me on her own terms”.. he always respect her and her feelings. I would LOVE to know your thoughts queen. 💘 Yeah, I essentially map it out with this post: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/190417664885/stefan-followed-elena-to-the-graveyard-went-to

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gotatext · 5 years

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hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. i couldn’t stay away.... hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes). musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse. fyi sorry for those of u who have read this intro a thousand times i literally.... can never b bothred to change it n i think thats really sexy of me x

CHARLIE PLUMMER / DEMI-BOY — don’t look now, but is that rory bergström i see? the 23 year old music student is in their junior year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, impassioned, self-indulgent and nitpicky, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he / they will make a name for themselves living in griffin street. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. rory don’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all!! slippin out of his physical form into the spirit realm! isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but currently feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

occasionally deals weed n pills when strapped for cash, but only 2 ppl he knows, and on a very small scale grass-roots level!! (so its ok???) rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car. we love to see it

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

actually i think rory had sex w delilah in the last version of this rp so if u want a hook up plot its possible just unlikely. they’d hav 2 be the driving force i reckon cos rory doesn’t really act on impulses like desire or anythin.... jst bottles that shit up !!! but yea we could do a spicy hook up plot maybs, depending on the person

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

#tw drugs #tw ocd #tw anxiety #HUNTINGTONINTRO

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lobselvith8 · 5 years

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The Outer Worlds OC Questionnaire: Javier Ramirez (Supernova)

I decided to answer The Outer Worlds questionnaire that I read here. It’s a bit lengthy, but it gave me the opportunity to put pen to paper about the character I created for TOW.

Also, to clarify a misunderstanding going around: flaws are not automatically assigned to you in Supernova. You have a choice as to whether or not you’ll accept an offered flaw like you do in the other difficulties.

👨‍🚀 - What colors/songs/words do you associate with your character?

Colors: Yellow (due to the color of Javier’s eyes, an aesthetic choice based on Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles).

Words: Latino. Aquarius. Mars. Science. Freedom.

Songs:

Sounds From Another Planet by Japanese Breakfast. 🎶

youtube

Nobody by Mitski. 🎶

youtube

Animus Vox by The Glitch Mob. 🎶

youtube

💼 - Were they ever affiliated with any of the corporations prior to coming on the HOPE? If so, how did their opinion of them change once coming to Halcyon?

Ramirez had experience with the Corporations before, but not specifically with Halcyon until the mission with the Hope. He did not have a positive view of the Corporations before becoming one of the Colonists on the Hope, and that view didn’t improve after landing on Terra II.

🌎 - How was their life on Earth like? Who did they leave behind? Are there any aspects of their old life that they miss?

Javier was not born on Earth; he was born on Mars and he grew up there.

Like the Martians of Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles, Ramirez has distinctive yellow eyes. A number of minute things that he took for granted separate him from the Earth-born Colonists of the Hope. Two moons, Phobos and Deimos, were a natural sight for Ramirez, while the singular, unnamed moon of Earth seemed peculiar.

Javier cared about Mars, but he felt it was in a subservient position to Earth, one which seemed impossible for him to change. There was no modern Agüeybaná II or Ramón Emeterio Betances for him to rally towards.

🚀 - Why did they sign up to be a colonist on the HOPE? Did they know anyone aboard the ship?

Ramirez wanted a fresh start for himself, and he saw this as the best choice out of limited options that he could pursue. Ramirez would have preferred to be an explorer like his Taino ancestors from Puerto Rico, but he was instead in a precarious position where he was under the thumb of Halcyon.

There were no friends of his among the Colonists of the Hope.

🌟 - What are their highest attributes & skills? Aptitude? Did these attributes influence Phineas’ decision in entrusting them to save the colony?

Javier has very high intelligence; Phineas pondered that if he had Ramirez’s brain 30 years ago, Halcyon might not be in the mess that it’s in now.

Phineas noted Ramirez’s high perception, something that was gifted to the Colonist through the advances of modern science correcting his near-sighted vision; he observed that Ramirez’s sharp eyes seemed sharper than a pteroray.

Javier had moderate charisma. He had grown up as a shy and introverted child, and slowly came into his own as he found his place in the field of science, which gave him a confidence that he lacked in his younger years.

However, Phineas hoped that Ramirez was good with a gun due to his lack of muscular athleticism.

Upon Phineas making his decision, he noted Javier’s file read that he was adept with mag-locks, and he had been a Level A Scientist Assistant, a rather lowly position. Phineas also recognized Javier as a fellow tinkerer.

👽 - Do they have any phobias? What are they?

Flaws? At the moment (with the Captain having recently landed on Monarch after receiving two keys for the moon), he has Plasma Weakness (which one could construe as an issue that resulted from his physical weakness) and he is Far Sighted (which means he is not adept with melee weapons).

⚖️ - Do they believe they’re doing the right thing? How often do their morals conflict with the tasks they’re given?

Ramirez initially contemplated leaving Halcyon until Phineas pointed out that there were no systems in the vicinity that he could make it to given the finite flight capabilities of the Unreliable, so he has been unwittingly thrown into a situation between a fellow scientist and The Board.

Javier’s views certainly dictated how he handled the crisis of the Vale, and he found the initial anti-corporate speech by Graham appealing (when the Unreliable reached the atmosphere). It’s what he wanted for Mars - autonomy from the corporations that seem to have seeped into every aspect of societal life for Martians. However, Graham’s prioritization of his Philosophism over human lives has soured Javier’s view on him.

Ramirez is morally flexible - now that he’s on his own, he’s interested in his survival, so he is willing to steal or work for the morally dubious folks who comprise Sublight, but he’s not looking to do it at the cost of genuinely helping the Corporations (although he’s willing to make them think that he’s on their side to gather intel and avoid making himself a target).

💥 - When conflict arises, how do they handle it?

Javier attempts to resolve certain conflicts without violence when he can - he spared Jeremy despite the order from Ludwig to terminate the mechanical, he talked down Reed so that he didn’t have to kill the Edgewater guards, he was able to convince MacRedd to hand over his lighter rather than assassinating him, and he spared Rachel Lockwood instead of killing her as Sophia Akande commanded.

He also avoided killing Herbert through stealth and disabling the machines via the nearby terminal.

🌌 - How did they adjust to life in Halcyon? Did they assume Alex Hawthorne’s identity, or did they maintain their own?

Ramirez didn’t assume Alex Hawthrone’s identity; he consistently identified himself by his real name when he met people.

🏭 - Are they pro-board or anti-board? Why?

Javier is anti-Board. Aside from his upbringing on Mars that shaped a lot of his political views (as well as growing up learning about the Taíno Rebellion of 1511 and the Grito de Lares), he was abhorred with the extreme capitalism and corporate conformity during his visit to Edgewater, where he saw the horror of Spacer’s Choice and how the denizens were basically dehumanized and valued only by how much they produced for Spacer’s Choice. Discovering that Spacer’s Choice wiped out an entire facility of people to cut costs and make a profit only cemented how he felt, and his discoveries later on (particularly in Byzantium) have only further fueled how he felt.

However, he does use his knowledge about Phineas to act as a double-agent, feigning allegiance to Akande to get intel about the motives of the Board.

🤝 - Which factions did they align with?

Ramirez aligned with the Deserters in the Vale who wanted autonomy from Spacer’s Choice. He assisted the crew of the Groundbreaker who wanted to keep their independence from the Board.

The Captain provided help to Udom Bedford, although he had no true loyalty to the Board.

While Javier mostly provided the intel to Gladys, he assisted fellow scientist Orson Shaw, who rewarded him (at great risk) with the Ulti-Nature when Auntie Cleo shunned Shaw’s proposed weapon due to market saturation.

🌝 - Which corporate jingle gets stuck in their head the most? Any favorites?

Admittedly, C&P sometimes gets stuck in his head.

🛰️ - What do they like to do in their downtime?

Writes in his notebook (including charting the stars that he sees), plays the board game in his room, and watching noir aetherwave dramas.

🍭 - What’s their favorite Halcyon food? Are they a picky eater?

Upon landing on Terra II, it was a basic diet of bread and water to stay alive in an unfamiliar world. Purpleberry Crunch, Purpleberry Punch, and Knock You Out Bar would be his favorites at the moment. Ramirez also has Deep Fried Cysty-Bits from time to time.

🔫 - Favorite weapon?

At the moment? Plasma rifle, modded with Extend-O-Sight and Mag-Num.

💧 - Do they regret any of the decisions they had to make? What do they regret the most?

The decision in the Vale was difficult, but the Captain felt he made the right choice: giving the denizens a chance to build a society where they wouldn’t be beholden to the Corporations.

Working for Sublight has been lucrative so far, and he hasn’t felt that he has had to cross any serious moral lines yet (against innocent people); he recently confronted Clive Lumbergh for Catherine, who he set up by altering his financial records after finding out that Clive was using human bodies.

🛸 - How do they feel about being tasked with reviving the other colonists? Of being Halcyon’s ‘only hope’ for salvation?

Javier finds the task daunting, but he slowly came around to the idea that helping Phineas is the best course of action.

❤️ - What is their relationship with the other crew members? Who do they get along with the most?

Ramirez has a good relationship with the members of his crew, although the nature of his ties with each one varies.

Javier treats Ada well, and is curious about her inception as well as the nature of the changes that Hawthorne implemented; he has noted that she seems to miss Hawthorne despite her claims about lacking sapience.

Ramirez looks after Parvati and Felix, who are younger than him, while he feels like he’s more on equal footing with Max, Ellie and Nyoka.

Sam simply seems content to clean.

🤡 - Do they have a romantic interest? How does that relationship begin?

Javier does not have a romantic interest at this time. He has a friendly rapport with his crew, however.

🔮 - Random Fact.

Ramirez is right-handed.

#the stranger #oc character #the outer worlds #tow #science fiction #the outer worlds spoilers #tow spoilers

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brainy-storm · 6 years

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S414 - ‘EL MAYARAH’ HEALED MY HEART (1/2)

General thoughts:

Firstly, the Elite are still awesome bad guys. Even though they lost quite a few battles today. Pretty sure they’ll be back after the whole Lex arc, though.

I actually love the ending scene of the fight, where they show the strength of humanity shown towards each other

That scene where Alex & Brainy go...’confounding’ is correct. Hayley is defs confounding. I suppose I should read her as ‘generally good’ but ‘with issues that need to be resolved’. And I hope they do resolve them.

Kara:

I AM SO PROUD.

She may have doubted herself at first, but she made the right choice in the end, that was true to herself.

I think yeah, she puts a lot of pressure on herself to be ‘everyone’s hero’ and, I suppose, as neutral as can be

Seeing her in that robe was so good.

Stronger Together.

Yes. good.

Alex:

Also had to do her job but got away with handling Lockwood as well. Excellent.

Lots of bonding with Kara, too, which is my jam

Brainy

I loved him this episode, he was amazing!

I mean, I always love him, but I loved that he got to do stuff important to the plot!

I don’t think he was used for the butt of a joke this episode? Is that a miracle?

Unless you count #AmericanAlien, but that’s fine

His speech. Pure excellence

It just oozes of how he’s a veteran hero.

Bet he’s given similarly good speeches to other legionnaires.

His fight scene was spectacular, as well. Props to the choreographer for that I wonder if Jesse had some input to it again

Era? I’ll give him a...Silver Age.

J’onn:

He and Kara had lots of moments together, and I appreciate that so much!

Uh ohhh I think Manchester has pushed him too far now though.

Can’t wait to see what happens next with him!

Nia:

My daughter is fighty and eager and I love it.

Teamed up with J’onn using dream powers woo idk how it works but okay

It’s her debut as ‘Dreamer’ , as in giving someone her superhero name!

pahaha I couldn’t tell whether she was put off or excited about being a sidekick

‘Dreamer stands with Supergirl’, just gotta stretch first’

Girl, you are as eager as a Robin on their first few days with Batman

I pronounce you...siiiiiiiiiiiiiiide...kick.

James:

I SCREAMED.

I was all happy about everything else that happened in the ep, so even though I should have seen it coming, I totally didn’t and I screamed.

I see now why Kelly Olsen has to come in

but whhhaaaat

‘Can we write James when he is at his best?’

‘Yes...but only if we get to shoot him’ -insert pikachu face meme-

Oof I actually did love how he went out there and took those photos.

His dad would be so proud. I’m sure Clark is out there being proud.

someone tell Clark he’s shot, okay

Lena & Eve:

Sooooo yeah I agree with theories of Eve working under Lex.

I will say that I think that she probably has grown to be fond for at least Lena so wanted to tell her about James’ digging.

I’d like to believe she was also fond of James too, but couldn’t directly tell him because it’d be too risky.

I don’t quite know if Eve shot James herself....would be interesting if she did, and we’ll see what happens.

As for Lena, lol when Hayley was like ‘we need to test’ and Lena was like ‘no we can’t’ with the silent ‘I tried that and someone already died, so we need higher certainty cause whoops’

In the last episode Lena seemed to be there of her own accord, but in this one she showed the signs of ‘having to’ cause of Lex

I saw another theory that said something the lines of she wanted to do this cause she knew James was going to be shot and wants to have the cure ready in advance I can’t remember where but if you see this lmk and I’ll link you here

Which is possible, but I feel like Lena would definitely have told him if she knew for certain he was about to get shot

oh shoot maybe that was Lena on the phone?

My kara x brainy thoughts will come later. GET READY FOLKS.

#kara danvers #brainiac 5 #supergirl #james olsen #lena luthor #alex danvers #nia nal #eve teschmacher #j'onn j'onzz #cw supergirl #my post #my ramblings #supergirl ramblings #4x14 #long post #since not all writers have brainy the same #I'll start writing what Era I think brainy is closest to for the ep #yay #also I didn't do 4x13....cause I was lazy

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petertingle-yipyip · 6 years

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Hybrids Pt. 2 - Tyler Lockwood/Klaus Mikaelson

//Requested: OMG! i loved 'hybrids' so much and i really want part two, i loved it, you are da best😎 // - // @cinthias-corner : May I request a part 2?//

//Part One//

//Pairings: Klaroline, Stelena mention, Tyler x Reader. Warnings: Language and soft Tyler :) Tag List : @akshi8278 @simonsaysyasss //

More or less than a month had passed since you had confessed your love for Tyler. Your heart had dropped when he said exactly what you were afraid of, what he knew you were afraid of.. That everything would change.

You figured he didn’t say it on purpose to hurt you or anything. But your mind and your heart didn’t want to give him the chance. You began avoiding Tyler after that. It was obvious and you knew it. He had your whole heart in his hands and that was too much for you to handle. You felt all too vulnerable around him. Which was why you weren’t ready to face him. You couldn’t face either of them, really.

Things with Klaus weren’t the easiest either. Now that you were avoiding Tyler, Klaus saw it as his best opportunity to swoop in and mend your broken heart. It was more for your benefit than his, but it was still hard considering you weren't hesitant to shut him down. But the thing was... your heart wasn’t exactly broken. Not yet at least, thanks to your newfound fear of facing Tyler.

The decade dance. It was the 20's and Klaus intended to be there, with you and Tyler in tow. As hesitant as you were, you knew you could escape and be with the girls for most of the night. Klaus had laid out clothes for the both of you, insisting that you would have no idea how to appropriately match the timeframe.

As soon as the three of you entered the school, you slipped into the crowd and found your friends. They instantly picked up on your emotions and carefully asked you questions in regards to Tyler.

"And he laughed, believe it or not." You said in annoyance. It was like a weight was lifted, finally being able to talk about what had been nagging in the forefront of your mind. "It wasn't a bust a gut laugh, more of a chuckle, but still."

"He laughed!?" Caroline exclaimed in shock. "What an ass.. God, why did I ever date him?" She laughed.

"You're telling me.." You agreed, ignoring the pain in your chest when she mentioned their past. It didn't necessarily bother you that she had dated Tyler in that few months between Tyler becoming a hybrid and you becoming a hybrid. They were both happy, and that's all you could ask for, but it stung a little that she had been with him, knowing your feelings for him.

"Obviously, I didn't mean to say it. I'd been hiding that from him forever and it just kind of came out. I was just trying to take a cheap shot at Klaus." You continued.

"Did Tyler actually say anything about it or was the laugh it?" Elena asked, probably loving being involved in relationship drama other than her own.

"He said that it changes everything." You winced for effect.

"Everything?" They asked in unison.

"Everything." You confirmed.

"Excuse me, ladies." You heard Klaus say from over your shoulder. You turned and sighed internally. So much for escaping with the girls. "Caroline, would you like to dance?"

She tried to hide her smile but you all saw it. She nodded slightly, faking a sigh of annoyance, and stepped around the table to take Klaus' outstretched hand.

"And Y/N.." Klaus said before whisking Caroline away. "Keep him out of trouble, would you?"

Once they walked away, Tyler walked up to you. With a deep sigh, you greeted him with a tight smile. Glancing to the side, you saw Elena and Bonnie slip away, motioning for you to talk to him.

"Hey, Y/N." He said softly, standing in the now open spot next to you.

"Hey, Ty." You replied with an awkward nod.

"I guess what you said a while back really knocked Klaus down a peg." He commented.

"What are you talking about?" You questioned.

"That." He pointed to Klaus and Caroline dancing. "He's backed off you completely."

"Oh that!" You exclaimed in realization. "Yeah, but I think it was more to annoy us than any real substance. But let's admit it. I'm amazing." You teased, trying to be normal around him after a month of distance. "Plus Caroline would never admit it but she does like him. A lot, actually." You chuckled.

"You're alright." He teased in return, nudging you slightly. "Besides, she's probably the only woman on earth that does." He joked.

"Honestly!" You laughed. "His own sister can barely stand him!"

He laughed with you and everything felt like it did a month ago. No life changing confessions. Neither of us avoiding the other. It felt the way it should being with him, it was light and normal. It was comfortable.. It was everything you had been missing.

"This was a whole set up, wasn't it?" You asked, still amused at the jokes you made at Klaus' expense. "Luring the girls away so I would have to talk to you? And you even managed to get Klaus in on it."

"Well, how else was I supposed to talk to you?" He challenged with a smile. "It was actually his idea since you've been avoiding me for a month."

"Yikes... That obvious, huh?" You laughed a little, knowing it was.

"Just a little, yeah." He replied.

"Huh." You muttered in realization. "Y'know, I didn't think everything would change, after that day.. But it did. And maybe it only changed because I made it change." You said out loud. "I forced exactly what I didn't want."

"No, Y/N. It wasn't fair for me to say that, especially since you had told me that's what you were afraid of." Tyler argued gently.

"Oh, I said that out loud." You nodded a little. "No, in all seriousness Lockwood, I freaked out. I wasn't ready to tell you for multiple reasons and I-"

"Wait, what reasons?" He interjected.

"What?" You asked, not registering what he had said.

He chuckled before responding. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"Oh.. Well, first off, you're you. I mean, you're Tyler Lockwood, the football star. The popular kid. I've known you since we were kids, even if you didn’t know me. And then high school came and somehow you and I became really good friends. Things were great before and I let my stupid feelings get in the way.” You confessed. "And then everything with Caroline. You seemed genuinely happy with her and I wasn't going to mess that up for you. No matter how that hurt..."

“Y/N/N... Things weren’t great. I was hiding something from you too.” He said carefully. "And sure, I liked being with Caroline but it wasn't the same as when I'm with you."

“Oh no.” You groaned. “Please don’t tell me you have a kid roaming around somewhere..” You tried to joke. It drew a small laugh from him which made things a little easier.

“When we were kids, you thought I didn’t know you... But I did. I noticed everything about you before I even knew I was noticing it, hell before I started noticing girls at all. The way you wore pigtails every Friday, even through high school. You had something blue everyday, whether it be your jewelry, your clothes, or even your hair ties. You had this tendency to hum songs while you were coloring and then as you got older as you were writing.” He gushed.

You gently placed your hand on his shoulder as you realized he was getting a bit flustered. A gentle pink flush had settled on his face and neck. His complexion had nearly matched his tie. He sighed heavily, visibly giving in to your touch. Could it be that he was confessing something like what you had told him a month ago? Is it possible that Tyler Lockwood, the boy that brought you to the clouds and through hell, was harboring feelings for you?

“Ty...” You smiled softly. You couldn’t help but smile. Growing up, you had always been in your own world. Of course, the girls were there but there were things that were just part of you. Like the humming, the blue, the pigtails. Those were all minuscule things that you had hardly even noticed yourself doing. But all this time, Tyler had noticed. “I still wear something blue..” You commented, flashing the soft blue bracelet you added before leaving earlier that night.

“I know.” He said with a small smile. “Look all I’m trying to say is that things changed after last month. There’s no denying or arguing. But they changed in a way they shouldn’t have.”

“How should they have changed then?” You asked with a small, confused laugh as you took your hand away, letting it join the other that rested on the table. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. At first, it seemed like your relationship with Tyler could be salvaged and rebuilt into something new but now, now it seemed like it was nothing but rubble. You two would be downgraded to being coworkers for Klaus. Simple head nods of acknowledgment when passing. “Sorry, I’m just really lost here, Tyler. You mean a lot to me, you know that. And I can't lose you. Not with everything still being so new.”

He stared at you for a second, processing your words. You saw the recognition light up his eyes as his eyebrows raised and he began to shake his head. "Oh no no no. Not like that. Not like that at all. Y/N, I- I- I like you, a lot actually. And I didn't want to say anything before because Klaus was always around."

You realized he was about to go on another rant. One thing that most people didn't see in Tyler, was his lack of eloquence in his speech. When he had a lot to say or had something important to say, sometimes he got tripped up or he would talk too much. He would say more than he needed to, which would lead to him saying the wrong thing.

In an effort to silence him, you closed the distance between you two, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He tensed for a moment before melting into your embrace. His arms came around you just as tight. You nuzzled your face against his chest slightly and you felt him rest his head on top yours.

"You were about to ramble." You mumbled your explanation against him. His chest shook with laughter, drawing a wide smile that he couldn't seep

to come from you. You realized how warm a hug from Tyler was. It felt safe, like you weren't tied up in supernatural nonsense. Like you weren't fighting for a family you didn't know. Like you hadn't lost everything in a war you didn't want. It felt like you were just a kid in love.

"Y/N." He said quietly, as if your name was only his to say.

"Yeah, Tyler?" You replied, stepping back slightly to meet his eyes. His eyes were soft as they met yours, full of admiration and love.

"Do you want to dance?" He asked with a sly smirk.

You realized a slow song had begun. You glanced around, seeing Elena with Stefan and Caroline still with Klaus. You knew if you stepped onto that dance floor with Tyler, the questions would never stop. But really, who cared?

You took one of Tyler's hands in yours and pulled him to the dance floor. You linked your fingers together and he gently pulled you close. His hand was on the small of your back, keeping you pressed against him.

"So where do we go from here?" You asked quietly as you two gently swayed to the music.

"Wherever you want." He replied with a small shrug. "I love you, Y/N. And I can wait. This probably seems really sudden so if you need some time to decide if this is really what you want, I can wait. "

You smiled widely, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "I love you too, Tyler. I have for a while, obviously, which means I've been waiting for just as long. I don't need time. I know what I want and I want you."

"So you're my girl then?" He questioned with a proud smile.

"It's about damn time, Lockwood." You teased, completely over the moon and head over heels for the boy in front of you.

The next day, the girls came over while you and Tyler were on the couch watching a random movie. Your head was on his chest while his arm was around your waist. You were absent-mindedly toying with the fingers of his other hand, tracing his name with your index finger against his palm. They burst through the doors, shouting your name and demanding an explanation, especially when they saw how you two were laying on the couch. So together, you and Tyler gave them the basic explanation.

#tyler lockwood #tyler lockwood imagine #tyler x reader #tvd #tvd imagine #vampire diaries #the vam #vampire diaries imagine #klaus tvd #klaus mikaelson #klaus imagine #klaus x reader

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wolfjawswriter · 6 years

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What Old Friends Can Do - Lucy x Lockwood 2

“Family is a Matter Better Left Unmentioned” - Lucy x Lockwood

Lockwood and Co. Series

Summary: Old friends may come as a solution.

Warning: This fic is made with the sole purposes of dealing and possibly kill Writer's Block and using an OC I've had in my mind for a while now, so it may be a little crappy and trashy. READ UNDER YOUR OWN CONSCIENCE.

—————————

I don’t think it was necessary to tell how the rooms looked, since they were void of life signs. Most of them just had even more books.

I woke up the next morning, very confused as to why I was in a room I didn’t know, but last night’s event came all back to me. The skull had remained silent most of the night, aside from when it protested for me telling Ethan about him. Right now it was inactive inside its jar.

The smell of tea and bacon came from downstairs, along the sounds of voices. I dressed quickly and walked towards the sound and smells, following them across the living room in which we sat last night and to a kitchen beside it.

It was a spacious room, with a stove and a big oven. Many pantries here and there on the walls and shelves with bowls and dishes and other kitchen utensils. There was a table in the middle of the room with many chairs around it, with Lockwood sitting on one of them while reading the newspaper. Wait, how did he get the London Times?!

George and Ethan were also there, standing beside the stove while George talked with him about this or that.

“Morning Luce” Lockwood said.

“How did you get the Times?” I asked him.

“I have membership” Ethan said from where he stood beside George, his hand’s busy as he chopped something on a board “How do you expect me to keep up with the real gossip? I didn’t know you could cook it like that”

“But its a three hour trip from London to here” I said “How did it get here so fast?” He looked back at me and made a sign with his hand.

“Good money gets things done, Lu” A few moments later Holly and Quill walked down and joined us, looking refreshed and rested.

“It is a very nice house you have, Ethan” Holly said as she helped him and George put the breakfast on the table, which, let me tell you, they got a little carried away while making; eggs and bacon, tea and coffee, home-made muffins, donuts, toast, biscuits, even chopped fruit for Holly.

“I’m glad you like it” Ethan said placing the last things and sitting on one of the chairs “Its a terrible mess, but habitable. Lu said you were here on a job”

“Yes” Lockwood said while he took some toast “Mr Weatherall called us, said he needed a ‘psychic disturbance’ disposed of and that the agency that used to work here is no longer in service”

“Well, he got that right” Ethan said after a forkful of egg “He is the owner of the railroad, at least Cheviot Hill’s extension, so I imagine the ghost must be there”

“Who’s ghost do you reckon that is?” I asked him. He scratched his chin like he had done the last night, then looked back at me.

“I don’t know, Lulu” He said “That railway was built at least two centuries ago, thousands could have died there during all this time, so the ghost or ghosts could be someone we knew or someone who died even before it was done”

“I should go to the town’s library then” George said while munching on a donut “Look for anything I can find about it”

“No” Ethan exclaimed “The library doesn’t exist anymore”

“What?” I asked.

“They brought it down a few months after Jacobs agency closed” He explained “Made a new party room there, I think. But don’t worry, I kept all the books they had. That’s why there’s so much books around here” Even after explaining, George looked like his donut had been snatched from his hand and stomped on.

“Why would they ever take a library down?!” He cried out.

“Most people here are idiots. No one really used the library besides the agents, but now the agency is closed and all the agents retired, so there’s no ‘need’ for a library” He took another bite of food “But all the books are here, and still divided by sections. The history one should be together still”

“Eep!” Holly squealed loudly as something jumped before her. That something was a cat. A big brown and black cat, that now stood on the table and eyed the food.

“Makayla!” Ethan stood from his chair and snatched the cat by the neck “We don’t jump on our guests” He dropped the cat on the floor, but as soon as he sat down again, the cat jumped on his lap and tried to get to his face “I ask you to excuse Makayla, Holly, she still doesn't understand what ‘good manners’ stands for”

“Its alright, she just surprised me” Taking a bit of bacon from his plate, he held it to the cat and looked back at us.

“So, we were saying about the history books. I think those are on Freya’s room”

“I haven’t seen Freya in a while” I said “How is she?”

“Gone. She married a few months back, now she lives with her husband somewhere in London, I believe. Haven’t seen her since”

“Is she your sister?” Holly asked.

“Yeah. She’s in charge of the family’s company and said she wanted to live closer to where the company was and where her darling husband works, so she moved out. Reckon she’ll be divorced in a few more months, maybe a year”

We talked some more and finished breakfast, then Lockwood said we had to meet Mr Weatherall at his house, and that when we were back Ethan could show George were all the books were. This was all dandy and nice, it was work after all, but Holly suggested she and I stayed here with Ethan rather than going to the Weatherall’s residence. It took some coaxing, but she somehow managed to convince Lockwood this was a good idea, made me write the directions on a paper and sent the boys on their way.

“You girls should have gone with them” Ethan said as we helped him clean the kitchen.

“But it wouldn’t be correct of us to leave you on your own” Holly said while placing the dishes on the cupboards “Besides, you need someone to help you”

“Oh! I’ve lived on my own enough time to know how to manage myself, Holly, dear” He said as he flicked the towel he was holding.

“What about your family? Is your sister the only other one left?” We finished cleaning the kitchen and walked to the living room where we sat down with some more tea.

“Now, yes, its only her and me. Remember my brother, Dante, Lu?” He asked and I smiled, taking sips of my cup.

“Yeah. He was the better looking brother” I scoffed and Ethan gasped.

“Excuse me, did you even see him?”

“You had a brother?” Holly asked, her cup carefully at her lips.

“Yes, both Freya and Dante were older, I was the family’s runt, just like Lu here”

“And your parents?” I looked at Ethan, concerned for what might come out of his mouth. Just like the stories of his physical scars, the story of his parents was a difficult one to tell. He, however, looked as calm as ever and kept smiling amiably and naturally, unlike Lockwood who, every time his parents or sister were mentioned, became silent, his smile strained and his manners tense. Guess I just spend too much time with Mr Secret-Keeper.

“Well, my parents are an interesting story” He said, got comfortable in his armchair, with Makayla in his lap and the cup on one hand “You see, they were kidnapped just two weeks after I was born”

“Oh God!” Holly exclaimed and placed the cup on the table “I’m so sorry, Ethan! I didn’t mean to pry-”

“No, no, Holly. You’re not prying. I’m as okay with sharing this as with the other stories I told you all last night” He said. Holly looked at me worriedly, to which I smiled, reassuringly. I knew this story very well. I knew Ethan didn’t minded sharing it. Everyone in town knew it, anyway.

Holly refilled her cup and adjusted her position so she was sitting more comfortably. I also refilled my cup with more warm tea and took a biscuit from the plate. Ethan was once again scratching his stubble-covered chin, deep in thought.

“My mother barely got time to get better from her pregnancy. The people who took them wanted my parent’s to give them a part of their fortune, but they were set on not doing that. Took six months for the police to find them, but when they did…well, for one, my father was dead” He took a sip of tea and a bite from a biscuit “Seemingly, he had been killed shorty after getting kidnapped. My mother, she was alive, however, she was not the same woman she used to be” Ethan looked at us, a certain heaviness now distinguishable in his tired eyes “She was tortured to madness. Those people thought they could convince her to give them the money if they made her suffer enough, but she refused, which drove her out of her mind. When the hospital called my grandmother to tell her about her about her recently-found daughter, she immediately took us to see her. But it wasn’t her daughter anymore”

He made a pause in which I looked at Holly, to see how she was holding up. The story was just beginning, but her hand had already flew to her mouth, her eyes helplessly looking at him.

“She wasn’t aggressive or anything like that. She just, seemed to lost consciousness, in a way. It was like toddler inside the body of an adult. Doctors wanted to keep her in some institution, but my grandmother refused to leave her in such a place” He smiled tenderly at the memory “She was convicted that if anything could bring my mother back was the love of her family, so she stayed here with us, in this very house. Nothing brought her back though; her memories were lost, her habits, even her speech. I never heard her say a proper word, ever” A single tear dropped from Ethan’s only eye, so I stood and sat next to him, wordlessly putting an arm around him. I was suddenly very thankful Lockwood wasn’t here; I knew he wouldn’t be able to listen to this, when it came to family he wore his feelings right under his skin.

“Oh Ethan…”

“In a way, I think she still remembered or knew she was our mother” His voice had grown thin with emotion, still, he smiled sadly, his head now against my chest in a silent seek for comfort “Dante was very sickish; never went a winter without getting flu or a summer in which he wouldn’t get sick because of the heat. Spent so much time bedridden, sometimes I thought he’d forget what the rest of the world looked like. But each time he got sick, every time he couldn’t go outside, my mom would silently sit with him and not leave his side until he was better. Or when I lost my eye” A silent sob “My grandma took her to the hospital to see me the day after I went in. She refused to leave my side, sat beside my bed all day and night, watching over me, like I’d die the moment she looked away”

Holly refilled his cup in trembly motions, then gave it to him. He gave it a sip and nodded her thanks.

“Eventually she died, peacefully during her sleep. It was hard for my grandma to think that her daughter was gone without ever getting to really know her own children, but I think she’s happier now, with dad. Grandma followed her a few months after. Then it was just us, until Dante got sick again. Spent days in his room without being able to move, but in the end, he left too. Now its just Freya and me”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Ethan” Holly said after a few moments of silence “I shouldn’t have asked”

“Like I said, its nothing personal” He smiled “You could have asked anyone in Cheviot Hills, and they’d be able to tell you what happened almost as good as I did”

After that, Holly told us some stories about her family and from when she was a Rotwell field agent, and I told them some of mine, but soon we changed topic. Family was not something most agents were fond of talking, at least not the way Ethan was casual about it.

Lockwood, George and Quill were back an hour later and we were still chatting in the living room, the tea long gone cold and Makayla now asleep on my lap.

“What did we miss?” Lockwood asked when they entered the living room.

“Just some overdramatic family stories” Ethan said with his lazy smile shining “But nothing too interesting. Now, I assume you’ll want me to show you where the history books are?”

Holly offered to help him walk upstairs, which he accepted kindly.

“Ok, let’s see” We walked after him to one of the rooms in which we slept last night “It should be somewhere around here” We spread about the room and started to look through the many copies spread and stacked inside it.

“Why would you keep this many books?” Quill asked as we helped look through the many covers.

“Couldn’t let this much knowledge go to waste, could I?” Was Ethan’s response, his body half covered with the books he was surrounded by “Besides, I’ve been using them for my research”

“You’re researcher?” George asked “Do you research the Problem too?”

“Oh, god, no!” Ethan scoffed “There are already way too much people researching that, I look for other things. Oh, it’s been years since I read this book”

“What could be more important than looking for a way to stop the Problem from spreading?” Quill said holding many books in his arms.

“Never said I wasn’t looking for that-Ah ha!” Ethan’s limping form retreated from the mount of books he had been looking through, with many volumes in his hands “Here they are” He placed them on the floor and kicked away all the books we wouldn’t need “‘Cheviot Hills’ Records’, ‘England’s Railway History’ and ‘Official Cheviot Hills’ Cemetery Documents from 1867 to 1989’. Any other book you may need should be here”

“Thanks, I’m sure I’ll find them”

We left the room so George could work peacefully, and Lockwood explained us the plan: tonight we’d go the the train station to make a surveillance, so we could find what we’d be dealing with and try to end it there and then, but in case we couldn’t take it down there, we’d go back tomorrow, better prepared and hopefully with more information than the one we’d go with today.

“You finally come back” A voice called me inside my head as I entered the room I slept in “I’ve been bored out of my mind all morning!”

The skull’s jar was sitting on top of a pile of books I hadn’t bothered to read the cover’s of.

“What do you want?”

“What have you been telling that cripple about me?”

“Don’t call him a cripple” My voice lowered into a venomous whisper as I took the jar in my hands “He has a name and you better call him that if you don’t want me to ignore you for the rest of the trip”

“Whatever, he is an interesting one” The skull’s ugly face was now propped against the source, its cheek plastered against it “I’m actually jealous. How he got those scars, very gruesome stories. What I wouldn’t give to have been there or live something like that myself!”

“Why would you want that?”

“Its better than being dead, Lucy. So what’s the plan? Are we going to use him as a bait to draw the ghost out then finish it? Or are you planning on actually feeding him to the ghost and then sealing it?”

“We are not using Ethan as any of that! He won’t be coming to the case”

“What a shame! I thought that that was the reason you chose to bring the others here, he would make a very easy prey for a ghost; unable to run, probably a year away from losing his Talent. I must say, he has an impressive amount of Talent for someone so close to the age of losing it”

“Yes, he always had an impressing Touch. Could pin point the exact location of a source only by Touching and getting echoes of the past”

“Hey Lucy?” I heard a knock on the door as well as someone calling me. The door opened and Lockwood walked in.

“Oh no! We are having a conversation here, no Lockwoods allowed!”

“Shut up” I closed the jar’s lever and basked in the feeling of seeing it get angry and not be able to rant with me about it.

“I’m an interrupting something?” Lockwood asked hesitantly.

“No, no. We were just finishing” We ignored the skull as it kept furiously swimming around its ectoplasm.

“You think it’d be wrong if I sat on the books?” Lockwood asked, his finger pointing to the giant stack that was in front the bed.

“I don’t think so, but I think its better not to find out” I patted the space beside me in the bed and so he sat there. We stayed silent for a moment, waiting for the other to say something.

“It is a very nice house Ethan has” He said in an attempt to break the silence “I’m happy you trust us with this part of your past”

“Couldn’t keep it hidden for long” I said.

“You never told us about that ‘wolf incident’” He said silently.

“The case of the Boy in the Wolf Barn? I wasn’t the star of that incident”

“But you were still there” Lockwood’s eyes were kept away from me, yet a certain vulnerability could be seen in them “You could have died that night. If he hadn’t protected you, you would not be here”

“But I didn’t die” I whispered, my hand coming to his.

“And for that I’m grateful” He said, his eyes finally meeting mine “I couldn’t thank Ethan enough for that”

The rest of the day was spent preparing for our case in the station. George spent most of the afternoon reading as much as he could of the books Ethan gave him. Lockwood and Quill practiced rapier with Holly and I readied our supplies, making sure we’d have enough salt bombs, flares, iron fillings and that our chains were fit for tonight. Ethan spent the day helping me, so we talked all day long, still retelling some experiences and I told him about some of our best cases back in London, like Combe Carey Hall, or the Bickerstaff ghost, the Chelsea Outbreak and from the time I freelanced.

Time went faster than I expected and soon it was time for us to leave for the station. With our sacks ready, our thermos full with tea and George’s compelled information, we were more than ready to leave.

“Lucy…” A hand stopped me from walking out the door. I looked back at Ethan, who for the first time in our visit wasn’t smiling lazily like he always did “The station…its close to the woods”

“We know” He didn’t need to tell me what was concerning him, it was concerning us both, but we had chose not to mention it. Now, though, I had been feeling like it should be brought up “We’ll be careful”

“Just…beware of the wolves”

#lockwood and co #Anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #holly munro #quill kipps #original character

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writingguide003-blog · 5 years

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Fresh voices: 50 writers you should read now

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/fresh-voices-50-writers-you-should-read-now/

Fresh voices: 50 writers you should read now

Which debut novel should you reach for this spring? Heres our guide to the most exciting voices in fiction, politics, SF, graphic novels and more

Fiction

Ruthlessly beady eye Sally Rooney. Photograph: Richard Saker for the Observer

Sally Rooney Irish writer was just 26 when her debut Conversations With Friends took the publishing world by storm last year. Its a barbed, witty page-turner about being young and fragile in the new Ireland, set in a perilously privileged milieu of performance poetry and small magazines. Narrator Frances is out of her depth, negotiating love, sex, friendship and ambition while trying to maintain a brittle sense of self. Rooney has a ruthlessly beady eye and an effortless comic style. Her second novel, a love story across the class divide called Normal People, will be published in September.

Guy Gunaratne Gunaratne worked as a video journalist reporting on post-conflict zones before writing his blazing polyphonic debut In Our Mad and Furious City, out next month. Set over 48 hours in a north London estate, where the killing of a soldier-boy by a homegrown bredda and the torching of a mosque spark a riot, it reveals London as a conflict zone for its five narrators. These include a would-be grime artist and a teenager resisting Islamic radicalisation, as well as older immigrants from Belfast and the West Indies.

David Chariandy The Canadian writers masterly second novel, Brother, was published in the UK this month. It interrogates family, community and masculinity as it tells the story of Michael and Francis, the sons of a Trinidadian single mother, coming of age in the 1980s in a poor immigrant neighbourhood. We were the children of the help, without futures. In understated, classically beautiful prose it moves towards disaster with the terrible inevitability of a Greek tragedy.

Jessie Greengrass Greengrass published her unusual and wide-ranging short story collection An Account of the Decline of the Great Auk, According to One Who Saw It last year; this February she followed it with her first novel Sight , now longlisted for the Womens prize for fiction. Her narrator is agonising over whether to commit to parenthood, looking back on the trauma of her own mothers death and remembering childhood holidays with her analyst grandmother. There are echoes of WG Sebald and Rachel Cusk in this thoughtful, digressive style that swirls together the historical and the personal, but Greengrasss questing intellect and elegant prose are all her own.

Eley Williams Small presses are making a big noise at the moment, and thats down to such brilliant books as Attrib. and Other Stories, which took the Republic of Consciousness Prize for Small Presses this month. Williams had been publishing her playful stories in magazines for years, and its no surprise to learn that her PhD was on dictionaries: her stories focus on words and meanings, riddling away at the gaps between thought and speech, sound and silence, lovers and strangers. They

Politics and ideas

Holding up a mirror to contemporary Britain Reni Eddo-Lodge.

Mark OConnell OConnells captivating book about transhumanism and solving the problem of death, To Be a Machine, which saw him navigate some of the stranger byways of Silicon Valley, was shortlisted for the Baillie Gifford prize, the Royal Society science book prize and recently the Wellcome prize. Having taken on immortality, the Dublin-based writer is set to tackle the end of the world, in what promises to be a companionable and quick-witted exploration of apocalyptic anxieties.

William Davies One of the most interesting commentators on political ideas, Davies teaches political economy and sociology at Goldsmiths, University of London, and is the author of two books, The Happiness Industryand The Limits of Neoliberalism. He is as lively discussing Brexit and the culture of the Home Office as he is the current crisis in capitalism. His next study, due later this year, will be Nervous States: How Feeling Took Over the World.

Suzy Hansen The author of the elegant and persuasive Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World, Hansen is based in Istanbul, where she moved from the US following 9/11. Hisham Matar hailed her debut as remarkably revealing a deeply honest and brave portrait of an individual sensibility reckoning with her countrys violent role in the world.

Reni Eddo-Lodge Eddo-Lodges debut book Why Im No Longer Talking to White People About Race, published last year, has recently won the Jhalak prize it was praised by the judges as a clarion call for action, which not only holds up a mirror to contemporary Britain but also serves as a warning. Marlon James called it essential.

James Bridle Bridle is an increasingly talked-about artist and writer who considers the relationship between technology, culture and consciousness. Among the subjects of his art are drones and self-driving cars. His ambitious debut book, New Dark Age, which argues that the digital era is radically shifting the boundaries of human experience, is out in July.

Poetry

A fresh take on urban life Kayo Chingonyi. Photograph: Roberto Ricciuti/Getty Images

Kayo Chingonyi Kumukanda, Zambian-born Chingonyis much feted debut, presented a fresh take on contemporary urban life shot through with an appreciation of traditional modes of living and storytelling. He reflects on identity and race, culture and masculinity with a thoughtfulness and lyrical elegance that conveys anger as well as a tender melancholy.

Ocean Vuong Night Sky With Exit Wounds picked up a rare double when it was awarded the TS Eliot prize and the Forward best first collection award. Vietnamese-American Vuongs work nods to both New York-school poets such as Frank OHara close observations of street life, frankness about sex and the historical myth-making of Homer. The Eliot judges hailed the definitive arrival of a significant voice.

Richard Osmond Osmonds job as a wild-food forager makes it unsurprising that his debut collection, Useful Verses, should be such a treasure trove of information. But what gives his poems energy is not just that they exhibit a deft authority on plants and poisons, remedies and roadkill, but that they are equally attuned to human and digital environments. The result is a work that reveals much about the world, both ancient and modern.

Tara Bergin This Irish poets 2015 collection, This Is Yarrow, is a wryly unpredictable set of poems that challenges our familiarity with the world around us. Last years equally intense and funny The Tragic Death of Eleanor Marx explores the life and eventual suicide of Karl Marxs daughter, the first translator of Madame Bovary. A rare originality of voice and vision.

Hannah Sullivan The long poems that make up Sullivans debut, Three Poems, are wise and witty, and spaciously unfold an account of a young womans love, disappointment and resilience in New York City, with Heraclitean philosophical musings and autobiographical reflections on birth and bereavement.

Memoir and biography

Compelling topicality and novelty Maggie Nelson. Photograph: Dan Tuffs for the Observer

Paul Ferris Football memoirs rarely produce great literature but Ferriss The Boy on the Shed is a glistering exception, which sets a short career with Newcastle United against the background of a Catholic childhood in a Protestant stronghold of Northern Ireland. Hes witty, emotional and painfully self-revealing. If, as Alan Shearer intimates in the foreword, a second book is on the way, he may turn out to be the new Frank McCourt.

Edmund Gordon How do you tell the life story of a woman who was, by her own admission, a born fabulist? Debut biographer Gordon disentangles myth from truth in The Making of Angela Carter, an elegant and well-judged life of the author.

Kapka Kassabova The Bulgarian-born writer takes a journey through the mysterious region where her home country, Greece and Turkey meet. Borderis a hybrid work that mixes memoir with travelogue as she putters across the land in an old Renault, recording the oral histories of the people she meets and crunching them with what she knows of the deeper past in an attempt to exorcise her own ghosts.

Patricia Lockwood Already beloved for her silly, often filthy verse, Lockwood burst into the almost mainstream with her memoir Priestdaddy, centring on her father: a Catholic priest with five children and a penchant for guns, prog rock and cream liqueur. While her poetry is brilliantly bizarre, Priestdaddy revealed a dazzling new voice that flourishes in a longer form.

Maggie Nelson The compelling topicality and novelty of her subject matter earns Nelson her place.The Argonauts is an uncategorisable book, that animates queer theory through the no-holds-barred story of her own love match with a trans man. Here are pregnancy, birth and family-making as you have never seen them before.

Graphic novels

The Arab of the Future Volume 2: A Childhood in the Middle East, 1984-1985 by Riad Sattouf. Photograph: Two Roads

Kirsten Radtke Imagine Wanting Only This begins with the death of Radtkes uncle Dan from a hereditary heart condition that could kill her and moves through her young life, taking in love, backpacking, loneliness and visits to ruin after ruin. Her memoir is stuffed with fascinating anecdotes and great drawings that show everything from bus-borne squabbles to tight herds of sheep and abandoned cities. It ends in New York, where the 30-year-old illustrator and editor now lives, and this intelligent and passionate work makes you wonder where shell go next.

Hamish Steele Steele works as an animator as well as a comic book artist, and humour and energy bubble through his work. His debut, Pantheon, a savage take on Egyptian myth, was self-published after a Kickstarter campaign before being picked up by NoBrow. His new book, DeadEndia: The Watchers Test, revolves around three amusement park workers and a genuinely haunted house.

Nick Drnaso The Illinois native picked up an LA Times book prize for his excellent 2016 debut,Beverly, a series of sad and lyrical interconnected stories. It sets dysfunctional young Americans against an eerie backdrop of highways, motels and couches, lust and despair pushing up against the clean lines and pastel colours of his artwork. Drnasos latest, Sabrina, follows a US airmans investigation of a missing woman.

Emil Ferris My Favourite Thing Is Monstersemerged to wild applause last year. A brick of a book with something to treasure on every page, it takes the form of the journal of Karen Reyes, a 10-year-old obsessed with drawing, monsters and the fate of a woman who dies in her apartment block. Karen fills the diary with vibrant beasts and the details of her detective work. Ferris makes her humans and monsters leap off the page, and Book 2 (due in August) should be another cracker.

Riad Sattouf Sattouf spent a decade writing for Charlie Hebdo, but only came to the attention of English-speaking readers in 2015, thanks to The Arab of the Future, which follows his childhood as he moves between France (where his mother was born), Syria (where his father was born) and Libya. The whims of Sattoufs increasingly authoritarian father drive volumes one and two, which mix darkness, dry humour and sharp observation. Volume 3 is out in August.

Crime and thrillers

Books that are sharply observed and crackling with energy Joe Ide.

Jane Harper Winner of the Crime Writers Association Gold Dagger, Harpers bestselling first novel, The Dry, is both a riveting detective story and a powerful portrait of a small Australian town in the drought-stricken middle of nowhere, riven by poverty and alcoholism. Her second book, Force of Nature, which features the same investigator and concerns an elemental battle for survival in the unforgiving Australian wilderness, lives up to the promise of her stunning debut.

Joseph Knox Sirens, Knoxs debut, is a pungent slice of urban noir featuring disgraced Manchester detective Aidan Waits. Having blotted his copybook by stealing drugs from the evidence room, Waits is forced to go undercover and finds himself deep in a world of ruthless drug barons and corrupt politicians. The start of what promises to be a classic series as proved by the equally vivid and uncompromising follow-up, The Smiling Man.

Joe Ide Set in Long Beach, California, Ides novel, IQ, is the start of a projected series featuring Isaiah Quintabe, a modern day African American incarnation of Sherlock Holmes. We learn his back story derailed in high school when his brother was killed, and turning to crime before realising his true calling as he finds out who is trying to murder a famous rapper. A second outing, Righteous, was published in February; both books are sharply observed and crackling with energy.

Sabri Louatah A bestseller in the authors native France, Savages: The Wedding is the first novel in the Saint-Etienne Quartet. Its the eve of the presidential election, and it looks as if Idder Chaouch is about to become the first Algerian premier. To some, the French Obama holds the promise of a post-racial society based on liberty, equality and fraternity, but not everyone agrees. Exhilarating, sharp-edged, and complex, this is a compelling hybrid of family saga and socio-political thriller.

CJ Tudor In The Chalk Man, 12-year-old narrator Eddie Adams enjoys communicating with his friends using a secret code of chalk figures until a series of anonymous drawings leads to the discovery of a dismembered girl in the woods. Fast-forward 30 years and Eddie receives a visit from an old friend and a drawing of a noosed stick-man arrives in the post. This assured debut is very much in the Stephen King vein creepy with plenty of menace.

Children and young adult

Grisly, child-empowering edge Little Red by Bethan Woollvin.

Bethan Woollvin Little Red, a feminist retelling of Little Red Riding Hood with a grisly, child-empowering edge, won Woollvin the Macmillan Illustration prize in 2014. Her second picture book, a prince-free Rapunzel, features the same mixture of stark black and white and a single colour. Her words share this lack of obfuscatory prettiness, a deadpan, terse narrative voice complementing her sharp illustrative style. Look out for her forthcoming Hansel and Gretel.

Joseph Coelho Overheard in a Tower Block, Coelhos newest poetry collection, was longlisted for the 2018 Carnegie Medal. Arguing parents become electrical forces or duelling knights; the bin-chute mouth of a block is fed the stuff of its residents lives. Rich with metaphor and secret meaning, his poetry is deeply welcoming, and his sensibility is both mythic and urban; his freed Prometheus, unearthed from eons of eagle droppings, hears the god-whisper of a city, the electric thrum of buildings, the digital hiss of a new world.

David Solomons The Scottish screenwriter represents the best in contemporary comic writing for children splendidly zany, full of irresistible trivia,but never scrimping on the emotional undertow that ensures longevity and heart. His first book for children, My Brother Is a Superhero, is subtitled I could have been one too, except I needed a wee; the story of comic geek Luke and his older brother Zack, unfairly given superpowers by a visiting alien, it won the Waterstones prize for childrens fiction in 2016, and its two sequels have since been flying off the shelves.

Lucy Strange The Secret of Nightingale Wood, Stranges debut novel for age 8-12, is set just after the first world war, and features Henry, a determined heroine grieving her brothers death, protecting her younger sister Piglet, and contending with sinister doctors who conspire to commit her mother to an asylum. Strange elegantly blends a sense of period with compelling emotion and excitement. Her new novel, Our Castle by the Sea, is due in November.

Tomi Adeyemi The Nigerian American authors debut, Children of Blood and Bone, has generated considerable excitement, with film rights already sold. The first in a trilogy, this ambitious book is told from three perspectives; central is that of Zlie Adebola, who takes on the monarchy in a bid to restore magic to the world of Orisha.

Literature in translation

Brilliant evocations Maylis de Karangel.

Maylis de Kerangal Winning last years Wellcome prize for Mend the Living, her brilliant evocation of a day in the life of a heart as it is rushed from one body to another, should raise the French authors profile, but as yet only two of her novels have made it into English. In both she makes character subservient to scenario, whether dealing with coronary transplant staff or workers on a six-lane suspension bridge in a fictional US town.

Samanta Schweblin Argentinian Schweblins brilliant and terrifying debut, Fever Dream, unfolds like a hallucination. A sick woman is confronted with a revenant child in a dialogue that combines the superstitions of a rural society with fears about agricultural abuse by big business, in a novel that was shortlisted for last years Man Booker International prize.

Olga Tokarczuk This time last year, the Polish novelist was the biggest star youd never heard of, but Flights put her on the map. This dazzling novel of fragments makes a passionate plea for connectedness through stories that somersault through time and space. Her back catalogue is now being published, with the Blakean Drive Your Plough Over the Bones of the Dead due this year, followed by her historical epic, The Books of Jacob, one of the biggest literary bestsellers in Polish history.

Andrs Barba After surviving the car accident that killed her parents, a wounded and traumatised seven-year-old girl is sent to an orphanage with her only surviving friend, a doll apparently brought to life by her distress. In Such Small Hands, Barba plays with the conventions of the ghost story to create a powerful fable of the malice and the erotic power play of children too young to put their fears into words.

Ahmed Saadawi Absurdist morality fable meets horror fantasy in Frankenstein in Baghdad, as a victim of sectarian violence is brought back to life in the aftermath of the US invasion of Iraq. Saadawi unspools an apparently endless causal chain of folly, corruption and tribalism.

Science and nature

Witty and elegant Cordelia Fine. Photograph: David Levene for the Guardian

Eugenia Cheng The mathematician remembers the day her mother first told her about graphs she felt as if her brain was contorting, and its a feeling she still gets when doing research. Its one her readers can share. Beyond Infinity begins with an energetic exposition of endlessness, before exploring the mathematical territory the concept opens up with the help of iPods, snorkelling and Winnie-the-Pooh. The Art of Logic is due in September.

David George Haskell On a cold January hike in 2004, Haskell, a biologist, found himself confronted with a choice. He could carry on writing scientific papers, following his enthusiasm for poetry and meditation on the side, or he could bring these interests together. The result was The Forest Unseen, a lyrical account of the year he spent returning to that very spot. His 2017 book The Songs of Trees explores the interconnectedness of nature through portraits of 12 individual trees.

Lindsey Fitzharris Fitzharriss hugely entertaining debut Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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mavwrekmarketing · 7 years

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Image copyright Helen Maybanks

Image caption Fatherland has been created using interviews with men about their dads

The 2009 children’s film Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs was a zany, fun and fairly trivial animation. So how did it inspire a theatre project attempting to take stock of masculinity in 21st Century England?

Along with his Spray-On Shoes and Hair-Un-Balder, the Monkey Thought Translator was one of madcap inventor Flint Lockwood’s greatest creations.

As well as letting the film’s characters hear what Steve the monkey was thinking, the contraption was put on the head of Flint’s emotionally inarticulate dad to allow his son to hear his inner thoughts.

“This invention gets put on this man and he spoke beautifully and honestly about his son,” recalls theatre director Scott Graham. “It’s a great little film.”

Image copyright Animation/Koba/REX/Shutterstock

Image caption The Monkey Thought Translator in action in Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

That scene inspired Graham to embark on his own project asking men to talk honestly about their dads, and dads to talk about their sons, in the hope of getting an insight into the state of fatherhood and masculinity.

Graham, who is the artistic director of the Frantic Assembly theatre company, enlisted award-winning playwright Simon Stephens and Underworld musician Karl Hyde.

Together, the trio tried to tap into the often-unspoken emotions that lie beneath blokeish bonhomie. The resulting interviews have been turned into a theatre show, Fatherland, for the Manchester International Festival, which opens on Thursday.

Image copyright Tarnish Vision

Image caption Left-right: Karl Hyde, Simon Stephens and Scott Graham

The trio decided to go back to their home towns to conduct the interviews. Stephens is from Stockport, Greater Manchester, Hyde is from near Kettering in Worcestershire and Graham is from Corby, Northamptonshire.

They interviewed their own dads, old school friends and strangers – but had to find a way to drill beneath the usual surface small talk.

This is how Stephens describes an average conversation: “I was talking to a really dear friend of mine and there’s so much I want to say to him and end up saying nothing, ‘All right mate, how’s it going? What you up to? Nice one. See you later’. And all those questions sit on this volcano of feeling.”

The best way to get men to open up was to make their interviews feel artificial and staged, they decided. Not just everyday chats. So their interviewees wore headphones, plugged into recording equipment. Their own Monkey Thought Translator.

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption Simon Stephens won a Tony Award in 2015 for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

Stephens has written about father-son relationships in plays like The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, On the Shore of the Wide World and Herons. His own dad died at the age of 59.

He says “the artificiality of the situation” helped when interviewing his stepdad for Fatherland.

“I was confronting the volcano with my stepdad, talking to my stepdad about his dad’s death. My stepdad raised his biological children as a single father and [I was] talking to him about what it was like the moment his wife left him.

“I really love my stepdad but I mainly talk to him about Manchester United.

“So that artificiality was really exposing and really tender as well.”

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption Karl Hyde is also one half of dance duo Underworld

Hyde, 60, a dance music pioneer in the 1990s and beyond, took his two collaborators to see his mum and dad.

“It was very strange to be sat there with recording equipment attached to my dad with a pair of headphones on and my two friends sat on my mum’s sofa,” he says.

“And then they ask him, after he’s been very chatty, ‘What’s your earliest memory of your father?’ And he replies, ‘I don’t want to answer that’.

“I’m sat there thinking, ‘Woah, what don’t I know after all these years? These two guys have just unearthed something that’s been lying dormant all my life and I don’t know’.”

‘Genuine survivors’

Whatever Hyde’s father didn’t want to talk about must have been worse than some of the “real horrors” from his life that he was willing to discuss, the musician says.

Months later, back at his mum and dad’s house, another thought struck him.

“Whatever had happened, he’d protected his children from it. He’s carrying it with him to this day and he won’t let that infect his children. And I think that’s amazing.

“Those are the kind of characteristics [we found]. People who are prepared to say, ‘This is not good enough for the way we want our children and our friends and families to live, so that’s enough of that’.”

Manchester International Festival on the BBC

After speaking to lots of men about their upbringings, Graham was surprised to find how many were “genuine survivors of a very difficult situation”.

That’s not only true of men, of course. “That there’s so much trauma in everybody’s everyday life and the way that we challenge it and rise above it is incredibly heroic,” he says.

“I don’t think that’s purely a masculine thing. It’s constantly surprising, constantly inspiring.”

Image copyright Helen Maybanks

Image caption Tachia Newall (left) and Eddie Kay are among the cast of Fatherland

Stories from the interviews have been woven into the show, with actors portraying the men the trio met. Snippets of speech are also used in the music, composed by Hyde and Matthew Herbert.

But Hyde, Stephens and Graham didn’t just interview other people – they also interviewed each other. So they too are played by actors on stage.

What did they learn about men and themselves during their interviews?

Stephens says: “In drama, characters don’t learn anything new – rather a truth which they’ve known for a long time is revealed and articulated.”

Referring to himself, Stephens adds: “I think [I learned about] my relationship with my dad’s drinking. The extent to which I write out of fear that I might become an alcoholic.

“The extent to which I write out of fear that I might die before I’m 60. The extent to which I am unapologetically a middle class man from a suburb. I could go on.”

‘A celebration of England’

What started as a journey to the heart of England has become a somewhat unsettling step into their own emotional hinterlands.

Stephens later says they did build up a bigger picture of the nation too.

He says that through the men they interviewed, they found a country that’s “capable of bravery and kindness and compassion and defiance”, and says that’s been proven by the reactions to recent tragic events in London and Manchester.

“Weirdly, it’s become a celebration of how good this country can be,” he says of the show.

“It’s been difficult to be English and to talk about how good the English have been until the last two months and then all of a sudden, with the events up the road [Manchester Arena] and London Bridge and Westminster and then Grenfell and Finsbury Park, actually the English are great.

“And I don’t mean in a nationalistic way. I mean there is a dignity and a brilliance to the English that is really beautiful. That’s what I found when I went on the road with these guys.”

The Monkey Thought Translator triumphs again. Perhaps every man should own one.

Fatherland is at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester from 1-22 July. The Manchester International Festival opens on Thursday 29 June.

Follow us on Facebook, on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts, or on Instagram at bbcnewsents. If you have a story suggestion email [email protected].