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thequeenindisguise · 4 years ago

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SOMEWHERE IN NEVERLAND (ICHIRUKI AU)

Here it is! My first and probably last entry for Ichiruki Month 2021... to be more specific, it’s for Day 11 with the prompt “What do you dream of?”

I think the last time I participated was like, what? Five years ago? Yikes. I didn’t even improve haha and okay, I know somewhere, sometime ago, someone has already done this AU though. And this was based off the amazing work of jon-lock from deviant art so this would look like crap next to his work. I mean I suck at coloring and at a bunch of other things, I know! But I just really felt like doing this.

I was actually thinking of writing a fic about it, but if I’m the one doing it, it’s probably going to be multi-chaptered and I just can’t commit to that. So if you know of any fics or fanart with the same theme, hope you can link them to me 😊 I’d really love to dive myself in them.

But despite saying that, it didn’t stop me from writing this silly one-shot called Somewhere In Neverland feel free to read and review there, if you have the time.

And now, if you read through all that, thank you so much for your time! Be safe, hope you enjoy the rest of your day and the rest of Ichiruki Month :D

And now for some more story time, you don’t need to read through this. It will be just me sharing some personal stuff… So feel free to move on with your life without this. Seriously. You can stop here if you just accidentally pressed the keep reading button, you are forgiven 😊

Oh… you’re still reading? Okay, then. So I’ve been really depressed lately, more on because my current job sucks, I just lost the opportunity to get my dream job, the pandemic’s still on-going and I just feel like nothing’s really going on with my life (T.T) I’m broke AF, it’s hard to fall asleep, my face is all pimply, I’ve gained a lot of weight and basically, this is just a low point for me.

Okay, I know that there are other people with much bigger problems than what I’m going through right now so I just try to deal with it on my own. I made a fanart, just to feel like I’m focusing on something and I actually finished the thing just to ease my mind of my worries. It was kinda therapeutic and I kind of like the feeling of actually accomplishing something. And I even mustered up the courage to join the discord server for IR. My anti-social ass was proud of that. I was even thinking of posting this fanart there just to show everyone that I really appreciate them for welcoming me but at the last minute I chickened out but ended up posting it here? I don’t know either. I’m weird like that. Even though everyone there seemed really fun and supportive, I just… didn’t want to ruin the vibe with my negative aura (the latest chapter was enough to trigger everyone. Didn’t wanna add to that).

Anyway, thinking about these past horrible days and listening to some really sad songs, because why not add to the drama? I was listening to one song about running away to “Neverland” and it got me thinking wouldn’t it be great if I were to just stay a kid forever? That way I wouldn’t have to deal with the pressures of adulthood. Then I thought about Wendy from Neverland and somehow I remembered that on that 2nd Disney movie, she grew up. And to confirm it, I just had to search for that clip on youtube. And yes, it was the part where Peter saw her as an adult and oh god, I kid you not, I started bawling. One, because I didn’t realize that I ship them… oops… and I wondered if Wendy, even as an adult, ever thought of what it’d be like if she had stayed in Neverland. Then I also found this deleted scene from the live action movie which showed Peter reuniting with her, hoping to take her back but he couldn’t anymore because she’s all grown up, and he was so heartbroken by it but then she introduces him to her daughter, with who he takes with him (weird? Maybe that was why it was deleted haha).

And so, I’ve been thinking about it a lot and as always I ended up thinking about Bleach and IR because of the new chapter and all (which wasn’t released yet back then). And I wondered what would it be like if they were in Peter pan and Wendy’s shoes—but first off, I didn’t think Ichigo would fit the role of not growing up because I don’t know, despite being a teen, he looked matured and kinda scary? Kids would never go with him. He’ll be better as the Grinch of Christmas because kids would probably feel like they’ll be bullied even though he’s a nice guy. And so I realize, oh it’s better if we switch them up and make Rukia Peter Pan because she’d be looking young forever while Ichigo grows old (which was what I was expecting from Bleach but somehow they all seem to be aging at the same time now, with all the marriages and the making babies or whatever) And to parallel the manga I realized that maybe having Ichigo live his life (in the world of the living) and have a family would probably be something that Rukia would be really proud of and would be happy to see (Okay, hold up. Just to be clear, I still don’t like the ending for so many other reasons but if it had to go down with Ichigo making a family WITHOUT Rukia then this better be the damn reason for it and that’s to protect him by making him live a normal and safe life before they reunite again in SS. I rest my case.).

And so I connect all this to Day 11 – What do you dream of? Because, well, since the prompt really is up to interpretation… it can be like a “dream” in life? Or just maybe a dream at night? Anyway, this is what I dreamt of literally. Again, I’ve been thinking about it all the time lately so I had to let it out. And of course, in relation to IR and in this AU setting, they probably dream of being together too (both in life and at night haha) <3

And that’s about it. I just want to leave this long message here so that when the time comes that I feel so much better, I’ll know what I was going through behind this not-so-good-but-a-little-better-than-my-other-works-so-far fanart and that one-shot that I tried my best to write despite my writing skills being very rusty, and know that it will be alright someday and that I’ll probably get through it whatever it was that I’m going through at this moment.

If you’ve reached until the end then wow. Bless your kind soul really and hope you have a great dinner and of course, thank you for lending me your ears or eyes (since you had to read). I may not know you but I really, really appreciate your time 😊

#deathberry #irmonth2021 #what do you dream of #IchiRuki #IchiRuki Forever #ichiruki month #ichiruki fanart #ichiruki fanfic #ichigo kurosaki #Rukia Kuchiki #my heart still aches #give me some love

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serendipity8832 · 4 years ago

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Ocean's 11 but it's Now You See Me

I just randomly remembered today that this has been sitting in my google drive for a couple months and I decided it needs to be shared with the world. It’s gonna be a long one, so buckle up.

Danny Ocean is of course the experienced, charismatic illusionist. He's well-known in the magic circuit and has lots of friends despite preferring to work alone. Basically a jack-of-all-trades, he's proficient in almost every area of magic, although as previously stated he's especially good at illusions and fooling the audience into seeing something that isn't true. Essentially J. Daniel Atlas but more likeable.

Rusty started as Danny's partner when they were young before branching out and doing his own shows. He's kind of like the Henley Reeves to Danny's Atlas, except they're still on good terms. I mean, come on, look at the way the man dresses. You can't tell me he wouldn't adore the kind of flashy shows that Henley puts on. He works mainly in Vegas, which Danny avoids, but they meet up when they can and sort of have a long distance relationship (neither of them is seriously seeing anyone else, at least).

Linus and Jack Wilder are cut from the same cloth. Both are fairly new on the scene, both look up to a mentor in their chosen profession who doesn't seem to appreciate them the same way (despite the fact that they are very clearly competent), both are eager to prove themselves. The list goes on. I like to think that, very similar to Jack, Linus would have a few… extra skills padding out his magician's repertoire. When Linus finally gets to perform with Danny, he's ecstatic.

Saul is the wise old magician of the circuit. After his many years in the game, he found the easiest thing to pull off in his later years was mentalism. He's a bit like Merritt McKinney in that way, but not in temperament. Danny, who learned under Saul, was never a good mentalist, so he trash-talks that branch of magic privately to Rusty. He respects Saul too much to do that in front of him though. Saul mostly makes the rounds in retirement homes and vacation spots, performing and then eating free food before the staff realize he doesn't belong there.

Basher and Livingston make crazy contraptions that shouldn't work but somehow do, and then show them off to people who can never figure out how they operate. Where Basher is the spokesperson, Livingston refuses to go on stage, so he mostly provides behind the scenes tech support. They're famous for their many Rube Goldberg machines, which are both wildly popular and wildly complicated.

Turk and Virgil are your typical adrenaline junkie disaster duo that pull off increasingly insane stunts that should get them both killed but end up with them walking away unscathed every time. The one time Turk sprained his ankle he smiled through the pain and the audience never knew. A crowd favorite is one or both of them being fired from a cannon, which they've done so many times at this point that it's actually one of their safest tricks.

Yen is like a freelance assistant-for-hire when someone needs a person to flip a switch or get sawed in half. He's especially sought after for his ability to squeeze into tight spaces, and the fact that he's cheaper than the models on the Las Vegas strip. He mostly works with Basher and Rusty and has his own acrobatics/contortionism show on the side, although he's not as popular as some of the others, which is why most of his income is from being an assistant. His fan base is growing, though.

Frank and Reuben aren't magicians themselves, but work closely with most of them. Reuben, long a patron of the arts, funds most of their shows, especially at the beginning of their careers and at smaller venues that can't necessarily pay the magicians themselves. Frank acts as a manager for a lot of them (although he probably doesn't get paid enough for that shit), booking their shows and keeping track of finances. He and Reuben are frequently in contact. He also tries to coordinate Danny and Rusty's schedules as much as possible ;).

Terry Benedict got roped into funding a huge three-day magic experience featuring "Ocean's 11" during which they robbed him blind. He's held a grudge against them since then, but they did a good job of lying low and/or staying one step ahead of him in the immediate aftermath, so he was never able to catch them. Sort of an Arthur Tressler character, although Ocean's crew didn't really have a personal vendetta and he wasn't responsible for cheating other people out of their money, so they didn't give it to the audience.

Tess is the FBI agent assigned to the magicians’ case directly following the Benedict incident. Choose your own origin story for her, anything works as long as it somehow leads to a minor obsession with tracking down Daniel Ocean. Isabel is the Interpol agent who arrives to help her because Benedict had some holdings in Europe or something. They fall in love while pursuing the magicians. Basically Dylan Rhodes and Alma Dray.

Francois Tolour is a washed-up magician turned skeptic who spends his time debunking other magicians' acts. He takes a special interest in Danny, and by extent the other ten, because he's absolutely convinced Danny's better than he was and he hates that. Both Benedict and Tess seek him out for help finding Danny, but he either can't help them because his own search has failed, or he's still bound by some remnant of the magician's code and won't assist them.

#ocean's 11 #now you see me #hope there's some overlap between these fandoms #oops i forgot Roman #oh well #i didn't mean to directly assign ocean's characters to nysm characters #but some of them fit too well #ahem linus and jack #look there's the gay agenda #in two places

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misiwrites · 4 years ago

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Beyblade Week Day 1

joining @beybladeweek2021 late but i’ll probably be doing these belatedly all may so, whatever! it is what it is.

i’ve never participated in a fandom challenge with writing before, but i was feeling adventurous this time and the seasonal themes were just perfect for the 4kingdoms AU-verse (which is this), i haven’t been writing much anything in so long that i’m mega rusty and thought i could use the bey week to do some warm-up oneshots. these aren’t going to be particularly interesting because i’m really bad at doing oneshots actually, but i like the idea myself and. that’s the only thing that really matters. right. (i’m not even sure if AUs are allowed for the beyblade week?? but the rules didn’t say anything about it so /shrug)

the day 1 oneshot is a little story from takao’s childhood about how he first met kyouju. this was inspired by my own childhood memories as the youngest sibling when i just wanted to hang out around my big sisters because i thought everything they were doing was Cool Big Sister Stuff.

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

Firsts / Childhood / Spring

”Takao! I’m trying to read this! Leave me alone already, will you?”

A groan of disappointment. Reluctantly, Takao backs away from his older brother by the desk, shooting him a frown of judgment and betrayal. Now, a quick change of tactics: he figures that, just maybe, Hitoshi allows him to stay in the room if he zips his lips to his best ability.

Wrong. Two silent minutes pass in the small study room until Hitoshi bellows at his brother again, swinging an arm in the door’s direction.

“I’m serious, you can’t keep doing this when I’m trying to do my homework!”

“I’ll just watch and keep quiet, I promise,” Takao insists, giving his brother his best puppy eyes.

“I can’t focus if you’re standing there! Now get out!”

Takao’s frown deepens; with heavy feet and a heavy heart, he trudges toward the sliding door. He doesn’t like this recent change in his brother, all this emphasis on what Hitoshi refers to as “important stuff”. Just because he’s now seventeen. Acting all high and mighty, pretending to be so adult and so important, too adult and too important to play with his younger sibling.

“It’s a very important time for your brother,” their grandfather responded to Takao’s fraternal laments once. “In one year, he will officially inherit the crown of the Seiryuu-ou. There’s much for him to do to grow into the role of the king before his coronation.”

Important this, important that. What about having fun, wasn’t fun important at all? And fencing – surely instructing Takao with the basics of fencing has to be important? Hitoshi’s fencing skills are second to only their grandfather’s, and Takao cannot imagine – doesn’t want to imagine – anyone else teaching him the art of the bamboo sword. And now Hitoshi is “too busy” to teach him, all of a sudden.

“But I’m boooored,” Takao whines from the doors, balancing his weight on his heels back and forth.

“How about you go study something too for once? You really should be reading a lot more than you do, you know. I don’t want my little brother to end up being a dumb prince who doesn’t know anything about the way the world works.”

Takao’s nose wrinkles in disapproval. The word “study” smells like old paper and dust and boredom.

“It’s the Sowmoon holiday now! And what the hell would I study?” he barks.

“Don’t cuss. Anything – whatever interests you. How about the history of the city?”

“Bahhhh.”

“The history of fencing, then. I don’t know – go to the library, take a look at the books or whatever, just leave me alone. I don’t have time for this.” Hitoshi lifts the yellowish document in front of his face and disappears behind it. A wall has risen between the two brothers.

* * * * * *

In the country of spring and year-round greenery, it’s difficult to stay sullen under the tranquil blue of the Eastern sky. Moments later Takao is skipping down the road that leads to the town of Tsuno below, his child’s heart already ignited with new-found hope and aspiration, his feelings of frustration shed by the sturdy wooden gates of the Cherrywood Castle and he's moving on, literally.

At first, the idea was dull at best; reading sounds like just about the flattest thing he could be doing on this beautiful Sowmoon day, a warm breeze blowing through his indigo hair as he carefully hops from one cobblestone to the other… but, in the end, it’s the wish to please his brother that has won him over. Now a plan is taking shape in his mind, the idea swelling like a balloon by each step he takes down the road, and soon his head is racing with the ambition of studying as many topics as he can think of; he’s dreaming up scenarios of impressing his brother with all his newly acquired knowledge, his brain buzzing and his proud heart thumping with all the imaginary praise from Hitoshi… and, just maybe, he’ll then agree to do something fun with his cool and smart little brother again.

So caught up in his daydreams, Takao hardly pays attention to all the familiar townspeople greeting him as he passes by their wooden dwellings and shops and stalls, and he prances past several flocks of tourists lingering on the streets of Tsuno, too busy taking pictures of the cherry blossom trees in their rare blue Sowmoon bloom to notice the royal prince walking right past them. Even if they did see him, not many would pay attention to him; people from outside the city would never imagine a member of the royal Seiryuu-ou family strolling around in a simple hakama without making a scene; but in the royal capital of the Country of East, this was a mundane everyday sight, and Takao was a regular guest of the pastry stalls on the main street of Tsuno. The townspeople loved to pamper this bold and friendly little prince, who hadn’t yet been spoiled by the privileges of the royalty.

Takao reaches the tall glass doors of the main library, only to face the reality of the numbers painted on the glass panel. Five minutes to closing time. So caught up in the rollercoaster of his imagination as he left the Cherrywood Castle, checking the opening hours of the library didn’t even pass his mind.

“Oh, hello, Your Highness,” he’s greeted by one of the kimono-clad library workers who spots him. (The surprise is evident; Takao is not a usual guest in the library.) “How wonderful to see you here. Are you looking for something?”

“Well, yeah, for something to read… but it looks like you’re about to close.”

But coincidence is on Takao’s side today, for the clerk tells him that the library is staying open for one extra hour every day this week.

“The reading hall has been reserved by Professor, a local researcher – but I’m positive he won’t be disturbed by Your Highness’s presence.”

“Really? Okay.” Relieved and triumphant, Takao enters the old-fashioned yet admittedly curiosity-inducing depths of the city library.

He quickly comes to the conclusion that he has underestimated the number of books in the world. Expecting there to be one of each subject of his admittedly limited academic imagination, he is instead hit by an entire universe of paper and ink and covers and words. The map of the library layout alone is full of complex characters that Takao hasn’t yet come across in his schooling.

Dammit.

In the end, Takao finds himself pacing back and forth a narrow aisle of local history books, looking for one with a cover that sparks interest. Perhaps he cannot read all the text, but at least he can look at the pictures.

That’s when he notices another person sharing the space with him, at the far end of the hall, where the shelves have been moved to hug the walls to make room for a reading area in the middle and the ceiling seems to climb up impossibly high under the arch of a dome roof. This person is another kid, hardly older than Takao, and he’s not paying the prince any attention in return; the boy is glued to the screen of a laptop computer that sits on a table in front of him along with several books, one of which has been spread open. Every now and then, his fingers dance across the keyboard at a speed that Takao didn’t even know a computer keyboard could be used with; then the boy crouches over to take a quick glance at the open book before turning back to the laptop again.

A curious sight. For a moment, Takao is tempted by the allure of calling out to this strange boy, to ask him why he’s still there after closing hours. He decides against it and swallows his curiosity. If there’s one thing that his older brother has recently taught him, it is to mind his own business and not bother other people hard at work.

* * * * * *

The next day Takao returns to the library, a pile of books in his lap that he leafed through all night last night. Hundreds of pages of buildings so old they probably stayed up in the pictures with willpower alone – so old that Takao half-expected them to crumble and disappear by the turn of a page, leaving empty picture frame squares behind.

He came to the conclusion that Tsuno’s history was perhaps not the subject to start from.

Takao returns the books, decides to try and find something about fencing, a subject he’s already in some way familiar with. (Between the important-looking books, he secretly slips in a story about Southern pirates; this one he’s not going to tell Hitoshi about.)

In the hall with the dome ceiling, the kid with the laptop is by the exact same table again. Only the array of books next to him is a little different… maybe. Takao is nearly seized by his curiosity again, but something about the air around this boy holds the lingering scent of “do not disturb”, so he bites his tongue once more.

* * * * * *

How could even books about fencing slap him in the face with all this wall of text?! The following day Takao once again turns up at the library, to return his previous findings that had only briefly managed to capture his interest with images of old fencing gear that were not only ancient but, as he ultimately decided, very ugly and stupid-looking.

What about archery, the other national sport of the East? Takao finds it boring and repetitive compared to fencing, but since books about fencing turned out to be boring, did it mean that books about the boring sport were, in turn, more interesting? It makes perfect sense, in Takao’s eight-year-old mind.

However, as he makes his way to the library at the cusp of closing hours again, he no longer pays much heed to the books. Instead, his feet take him to the reading hall under the dome right away.

Sure enough, the kid with the big round glasses and a laptop in front of him is there in his usual spot, all alone. And again the boy’s fingers are hammering at the keyboard faster than Takao can form a coherent thought about computers, the strange machinery that originates from the technically advanced Country of West for all he knows.

It’s been three days now, and Takao can no longer hold back his burning curiosity. Eyes on the strange boy, he takes small sideway steps between the bookshelves, inching his way closer and closer, until he reaches the open reading area under the arched skylights above.

“Hey,” Takao says as he enters the boy’s proximity by the table.

The boy doesn’t do as much as raise his eyes from the computer screen.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asks, still typing away. The tone of his high-pitched voice is just slightly aggravated but his choice of words oozes formality, a strange speech pattern for someone his age. It throws Takao off a little.

“Umm, I’ve seen you here every day this week and was wondering what you’re doing, that’s all. You know the library was already closed, right?”

After saying this, the thought then passes Takao’s mind that perhaps this kid never leaves the library. Perhaps he’s not even aware that he’s in a closed library. What if Takao is talking to a ghost, haunting this remote corner of the library all day and night? Or, maybe, he’s nothing but a product of Takao’s imagination?

The boy’s voice is now so blunt in response that these phantasmagoric thoughts immediately vanish from Takao’s mind.

“Yes, of course I know. The library personnel was very kind to allow me this one working hour without other people disturbing me. So really, I should be asking – what are you doing here?” Now the stranger’s hands finally leave the keyboard and he lifts his eyes to Takao.

A moment of confused silence. Then the boy’s face begins to resemble the colour of a strawberry.

“Oh!” he squeaks and jumps up to his feet, only to bow his head toward the floor. “Oh, Your, uh, Your Highness! I am terribly sorry for being so rude! Oh, goodness me, how could I…!”

“Wow, calm down,” Takao interrupts, startled himself by the suddenness of the boy’s reaction. “And raise your head – I don’t like people bowing at me, it makes me feel weird. More importantly, what you said just now – are you saying you booked this extra hour from the library?”

Hesitantly, the boy straightens his back, which doesn’t increase his height significantly; now that they’re standing next to each other, Takao notices how small the person he’s talking to is, his head barely on level with Takao’s shoulders.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he says. “I wasn’t aware I was sharing it with the royal family, though. How thoughtless of me.”

“No, well, I kinda just walked in on my own, to be fair. So… you’re a researcher?”

“You could say so, I am indeed carrying out some research here. My name is Saien Manabu, but everyone calls me Professor.”

“Oh, wow. What exactly are you researching?”

“Right now I am writing a paper on the goddess cult of the Country of North. I know, it’s not exactly a topic that interests most children, but I find it so terribly fascinating…”

The mention of children – a nod to the fact that this boy, too, is a child just like him – makes Takao immediately feel more at ease. This person, albeit strange and overly formal and clearly too smart for his age, really is just a child after all. This notion alone is enough to make the kind-hearted and fairly simple-minded Takao like this boy more.

“Sure, that sounds cool,” he says with a grin. “Hey – you said you’re Saien, right? Like that ramen shop on the main street?”

“Yes, it is owned by my parents.”

“Well, it’d be real interesting to hear more about your research and all, but I’m kinda hungry, to be honest – the Saien noodles sound awesome just about now. How about we go there and then you tell me more?”

“Hmm. Well, I wasn’t making as much progress today as I wanted, in any case.” The boy, visibly at least a little relieved to get a break from staring at the screen, slams his laptop shut and tucks it under his arm. Then he flashes a friendly smile at Takao. “Very well, Your Highness. But my mother may pass out if I bring a member of the royal family to their shop all of a sudden, so please prepare for that.”

“Bah, just call me Takao, I’m not so into that formal stuff.”

“Alright, and you can call me Professor.”

* * * * * *

Once back in the Cherrywood Castle, Takao told both his brother and grandfather how much he’d learned about the Northern goddess Hiromi of time and space already; and from that day onward, Hitoshi never needed to refer to his younger brother as the dumb prince again, as Takao, who became a frequent visitor of the Saien family ramen shop both inside and outside business hours, never ran out of curious stories to share about all the things he learned from his new friend.

And while the royal Seiryuu-ou family wasn’t to stay together for much longer from the moment of this story, Takao and Professor remained best friends for many years to come.

#my writing #4kingdoms stuff #LetItRip2021

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bunny-hoodlum · 4 years ago

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I'm not dead!

But I did totally blank out (afain) on this side of the interwebs and I am very, very sorry about that. 🥺 Tbh, I was going to ease back into the Tumblrsphere, cuz I had turned on notificiations for like all of a minute a couple months ago... And then I couldn't watch WandaVision in private listening mode without the audio cutting out from the notifications. XD I feel like I'm somehow showing my age because surely that shouldn't be such a hindrance... Well anyways, I turned off notifications right away and forgot about everything since then. Q n Q

My current brain space in order has been: Kipo: Age of the Wonderbeasts, Dr. Stone, Jujutsu Kaisen, Heaven's Design Team, I've dyed my hair 3 times again, I'm wondering when I can get my ears pierced budget-wise (I'm literally hitting my 13yo milestone at 30, I'm such a late-life bloomer)... I've been eating almost nothing but salad for the past week or two, Idk, the days blur together and time means nothing to me anymore... Going back to shows!!! My recent headspace is: My Hero Academia -- YES I'M FINALLY BINGING IT -- Tokyo Revengers, ODD TAXI (I loooove this unique anime, it's like a gritty Parappa Rappa), Shadows House ... I still have to watch To Your Eternity but I'm going to be all over that!! And I recently decided to watch Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle. I absolutely love it. What I wasn't loving was the Funimation captions being too early since jokes are ALL ABOUT THE TIMING! So I'm still on ep 4.

Will I ever really talk about any of these? Or draw fan art ever again? I have no idea. The urge never crosses. The images never visit my mind anymore.

I'm just dropping this here because it's been awhile and I am alive but I've just got the worst attention span and I will check my messages again just like I always do before I disappear again -- I'm not actively working on anything that I would share on tumblr so that is why I forget to come on here -- what was I getting to? Right, anyways...

I haven't forgotten about the stories I need to update and repost (like "Powerless") but my procrastination keeps kicking in because the amount of time it feels like I'll have to put in towards that stuff is overwhelming, and when it all turns into a multi-project sludge in my brain, I just go hide in video games and shiznots. 😔 Ugh.

Even the thought of updating on FFN is intimidating me. I'm pretty sure all my old files are gone by now because I haven't refreshed them. So to re-upload "Powerless" is literally going to be like from scratch. Not writing it, I mean the editing. The italicization and the bolding and the scene separation!!!

I wish I hadn't deleted it the first time after all. Q_Q It could've just sat there accruing hype or yearning or whatever. Ugh.

Okay, so why is my attention span so bad honestly? Well, I have the chance to not work slave wage and instead actually focus on my 'art'. Ofc my fine motor skills are rusty and my digital drawing program skills are severely lacking. When everyone else has kept at it, I fell behind. That's what it is and what it feels like. I'm just at a hobbyist level, like, it's really, really bad. And I'm struggling not to look back on my life and question why I didn't do more to make sure I went to art school. Like actually work buttloads to go to VCUArts. Idk, my mom 10 yrs ago was like 'you need a car', as if I can't exist anywhere outside her reach without one. But I would've tried to live in the dorms and just bike. UGH. WHY DIDN'T I JUST DO THINGS AND SAID FUCK ALL TO OTHER PPLS WORRYING??!

Sorry. Ahem.

On the other hand... There's Skillshare and Schoolism and things, and even some Youtuber art pros have discord critique days or whatever, and all that is supposed to be a better investment than 200k debt, but I still keep feeling like I avoided really important experiences and that I'm still disadvantaged. I'm prolly am being pessimistic but it feels so objectively true. Ugh. I just don't see the self-taught vs formal education gap ever closing in a satisfactory way.

I forget what my point is. I wish I could update my fics, I really wish I could schedule some time in, but I haven't been able to properly think about any of it for the past three weeks I think. Another thing that's currently occupying my headspace is an artist that goes by HeartMush. I don't want to @ them because I don't want them to see my whining, but I'm sooooo enamored with their skills and envious of their formal education. And other things. Which you could find on their website contained within their downloadable CV. T_T This person feels like a prodigy to me. Lesigh.

Anyways, if I ever come back again, hopefully it'll be some art that I'm proud of. Maybe whenever I get there, I'll have clearer feeling how much farther my goal really is, and that should be enough for me.

#did any of this make sense?#personal #i'm not dead

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ruskinbondstories · 4 years ago

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Why Ruskin Bond will always remain our favorite

From our early school days to the age of stepping into our respective career paths - we all grow up undergoing many changes. But only the writings of Ruskin Bond remain our constant companion. The close relationship between Ruskin Bond and us emerged slowly. The first introduction happened through textbooks, mostly after which people regularly saw a curious kid sitting at the corner of a bookstore with amazement in his eyes. And this amazement continued to appear on our faces every time we opened a book by Ruskin Bond. Unknowingly, we formed a strong bond with our favorite, Ruskin Bond.

It's pretty impossible not to smell the hills, our childhood, winter breezes, the old and rusty cottages in his words. Ruskin Bond's stories feel like a legit time machine that never fails to transport us into a newer world or the world of the past. His stories made us enjoy natural affection, subtleties, and the lucid pleasures of life without delving into the materialistic way of living. So, let's try to get lost in the world of Bond and relive our sweetest memories again to remind ourselves why he will always be our most favourite.

Nature as its best

"Never mind. Men come and go. The mountains remain." - "Our trees still grow in Dehra."

Due to his intimate understanding of nature, Ruskin Bond successfully presents how nature could actively become a significant part of a person's well-being. We can't help feeling the solitude and the peaceful purity of being amidst the forlorn mountains, the Magpies, the beautiful forest birds, and the freshness of trees while reading his stories. Nature in his reports does not only provide background, but it becomes a character itself. He allows the free-flowing river, the little birds, the wildflowers, the sky, and every aspect of nature to convey their own messages to the readers.

That's why we perceive nature as a catalyst for healing our minds and making us transcend in the spiritual world. So, in most of his stories, he tries to convey the message of preserving nature. For example, in "The Coral Tree," Ruskin Bond has painted an essential aspect of teaching children the importance of planting and nurturing trees, thus, making a lasting partnership with man and nature.

Many great critics of our generation have declared the significant presence of the pantheistic nature approach in Bond's writings. He profoundly portrays both the nurturing and the destructive sides of Nature in his stories like "The Blue Umbrella," "Time Stops at Shamli," "The Angry River," "Rain in the Mountains," "Roads to Mussoorie," "The Room on the Roof" and many others. It's evidently clear that nature is the Muse of Ruskin Bond, and he will continue to strengthen the friendship between us and nature.

Bond's Art of Characterization

One of the most captivating qualities of Bond's stories that make them so relatable is his art of characterization. He amazingly creates a fellowship between the reader and the characters by presenting various characters and showing every character's development through the thick and thin of life. The most amazing part is that his feelings are rooted in reality and possess a breadth of genuineness without pretensions.

Ruskin Bond is the master of creating various characters who fall into every social and economic background of the vast spectrum of our society. He beautifully paints the difference between the characters belonging to both the backward and underprivileged class and the flourishing upper-class. But most surprisingly, each character's life becomes significantly inspiring to the readers because of their physical and mental struggles, their realization and acceptance, and their close connection with their conscience. Our eyes suddenly get wet whenever we go through the brief encounter of the two potential lovers in "The Eyes are not Here." Similarly, we feel the same adrenaline rush while witnessing Binya's adventurous journey down the stream to save her most precious possession in "The Blue Umbrella."

Ruskin Bond's excellent insight into human psychology makes the readers understand exactly what the character is going through. That's what makes it way easier to discover the characters' reasons, hesitations, dilemmas, joy, anxiety, happiness, and all sorts of emotions. We somehow get attached to the characters without consciously knowing it and start to fascinate them most realistically.

Accurate Representation of the Indian Society

Bond's literary works serve a great purpose of expressing the social, economic, and political issues concerning the public and the country at large. He conveys the different opinions of the differently brought up characters in society in the most effective way. The state of India when it was under British rule, the bloodshed during partition, the ruins made by corruption, the conservative approach of the society, the superstitions, and the prevailing problems of dowry and child marriage - all have become an integral part of his writings. That's why his stories are considered proofs that aptly documented the then Indian society comprehensively.

Ruskin Bond's excellence also prevails in enriching the native language, bringing forth ethos and culture, and portraying the existing complexity of the socio-political scenario. At the grass-root level, his stories present a great insight into the ongoing social stigma without being a complete rant about problems only. His characters depict juxtaposition by making readers experience the constant tension that goes on within themselves between their rural and old values and the new urban moral code that they are exposed to.

Although Ruskin Bond Books is majorly known as one of the best writers of children's books, his adult and adolescent novels deal with the aspects we all go through in adulthood. For example, his "The Room on the Roof" brings up issues faced by the protagonist Rusty that had never been the table talk back in the 1950s. The life of Rusty resonates with us because we all have witnessed the problems like identity formation, wanting financial independence, emerging sexuality at some point in our lives. On the other hand, "The Room on the Roof" and its sequel, "The Young Vagrants," also successfully bring out the pain and loneliness of the orphan protagonist while depicting the prevailing social concerns such as racial and cultural differences, narrow-mindedness, and the social pretensions.

A Master of Stealing Children's Hearts

Risking Bond's fantastic insight into child psychology has contributed to making him our most favorite writer. The most incredible element found in his children's books is that he shows immense respect to a child's emotions, a thing which is not openly discussed or even given much value to. He captures the innocence of children in the best possible way while providing the utmost importance to the adventures, the hidden complexity, tragedies, and determination of the little minds. The self-seeking attitude of children is beautifully painted in the subtle yet strong words of Bond. "The Blue Umbrella" and "The Angry River" are perhaps the most outstanding examples for showing the strength and abilities children inherit along with the intricacies of life- all presented with a mesmerizing touch of simplicity. Through these stories, Ruskin Bond successfully raises a very pertinent question on the conviction of getting attached to trivial materialistic things of life, which exposes the futility of the entire concept.

Ruskin Bond is a master of depicting the innocence and simple pleasures of children, which contrasts with the cunning, shrewd, and envious nature of the adults in his children's books. It inspires the readers worldwide to adhere to the old pleasure-seeking and joyful spirit we have left in the past. The children's stories highlight the lessons of sympathy, kindness, and brotherhood among the readers of every age.

That's why Bond's significant contribution lies in the fact that Bond's children's stories do not only evoke happiness in kids, but adults also perceive the same amount of gleeful experience while reading them.

Conclusion -

Ruskin Bond's simple style of writing delves deep into our conscience. It is a potent weapon of his that beautifully depicts both the complexities and the ease of life. Bond never wants to "make readers toil and sweat" because he never believed in the concept of putting complex and unconventional words to sound more serious. In "It's a Wonderful Life," he shared why he always chooses to write simply. He also shared his views on social media regarding his writing style by saying, "I have always tried to achieve proses that are simple and conversational. Those who think this is easy should try it for themselves." It is always astonishing to see how the subject matters of Bond's writings are given such high importance without presenting them in a twisted form by using complex words. That's why his stories can be read repeatedly regardless of the reader's age, as the Ruskin Bond Stories have something interesting to offer you each time you turn the pages.

#Ruskin Bond #Ruskin Bond Collection #Ruskin Bond Books #Ruskin Bond stories #Ruskin Bond latest book

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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719

When you are in the shower, what do you normally do first: Make sure I’m completely doused with water. I don’t like having dry spots when I put on shampoo or body wash. Do you have a fear, even only a slight fear of insects: I hate cockroaches and have a fear of getting stabbed by anything anywhere on my body. Which shoes out of the shoes you have, do you wear most often: My Onitsuka Tiger sneakers for sure. Do you paint your nails? If so, what is the usual colour or colours: Thanks for asking first, because no I don’t. Do you have a favourite poem you like and can recall. If so, what is it: I don’t have my own favorite but Gab has always loved this one poem by Elizabeth Bishop, even memorized it at one point, and she wrote the whole piece down on one of my old planners and explained it for me, which led me to like the poem as well. It’s titled One Art. Do you find yourself even the least bit creative: No. That and being a flirt are the last words I’d use to describe myself.

Have you ever resided in a home that was haunted: No. If so, tell me of your experience please. If not, do you believe in ghosts: Not the houses I’ve lived in but both the schools I’ve attended have track records for being haunted, but I don’t feel like sharing the ghost stories I know of rn because it’s 1:56 AM lol. I like believing in ghosts, but I’m not obsessively adamant about their existence. What is the worst memory you can think of: Various traumatic experiences from childhood. Do you have any close friends who you feel do not understand you: Sure. I don’t really open up to close friends; I only save that for my best friends. That said, my close friends won’t know what I need sometimes. Best example I can give is when I rant to Andrew for the sole reason of needing someone to vent to, he’ll sometimes reassure me even though I’m not looking for reassurance. I appreciate his efforts of course, but sometimes I’ll just find myself taken aback by the words of affirmation I didn’t explicitly ask for haha. Do you like to use abbreviations or not: Only if it’s necessary or when I’m too lazy to type. Do you ever play any MMORPGS: No. Where was the last place outside your home of course, that you've been to: :((((((((((((((( This is SUCH A SAD QUESTION NOW :’( I went to visit my grandpa’s spot at our local columbarium last month. Did you enjoy going to this place or was it not so great: I always feel peaceful visiting my lolo. Do you like Disney: Walt Disney was a shit leader which will sometimes ruin my viewing experience of Disney movies lol. But yeah I do like a number of their movies. If so, what is your favourite Disney movie: Toy Story. What is the most creative thing that you do: Coloring and painting. Do you ever think of bettering your talent or do you not need to: I always want to improve in everything I do, not just my skills. Do you like to write in cursive or just plain text: Just plain text, but I regularly practice my alma mater’s unique cursive so that I don’t get rusty at it. At the mall do you get free samples even if you don't know what it is: No, cause then I kinda feel guilty that I don’t buy the product haha. I love when they give out free samples at Starbucks though. Do you know how to restore your hard drive on your computer: Nopes. Do you like any animes: No. What is your favourite movie of all time: Two for the Road. Might fuck around and watch the movie after this survey.

What do you mostly daydream about: The future, mostly. I like thinking about having kids, buying my own house, having a big wedding, etc. I know the economy is shit and the future is doomed, but let me live in my fantasy life dammit. When was the last time you got angry, and why did you get angry: I felt like a relative invalidated my anger on a Facebook post I shared last night and it pissed me off for a few minutes. What is the worst movie you've ever seen in your life altogether: Paris When It Sizzles was a bit of a mess; it’s the only Audrey Hepburn movie I only watched once and never cared to repeat. I’m also biased against Knives Out as I hate whodunnits lol. What is something you would NEVER eat even though some people do eat it: Cats, dogs, and now probably whatever kind of bats they have in China. Do you have any favourite artists: Like singers? I really admire Hayley Williams. Do you like Tim Burton and his work: I respect his work but it’s personally not really my style, so I tend to skip out on his films. Who is your favourite director: Stanley Kubrick. Hard to completely vouch for him because of the whole Shelley Duvall bit, but for real though I love his films and I’d be totally lying to myself if I answered with a different director. Who has influenced your life the most out of family members: My dad. Which celebrity or famous person had influenced your life tremendously: CM Punk. Most of his worldviews (not believing in regrets, luck is for losers, you don’t have to be blood to be family, etc) influenced me as a teenager and are mindsets I continue to carry with me to this day. What place do you want to visit the most: Morocco or Turkey. What is your favourite band: Paramore. What song will you never grow tired of by this band: Misguided Ghosts. What is your most favourite colour of all time: Black. What is the best toy you had as a child: I don’t really know what to call it but I LOVE that one Play-Doh boxed set that let you spew out different shapes; it was pretty fucking bomb. This is what it looks like:

Out of the toys now, which do you wish they had back when you were a child: Kinetic sand. But I don’t feel like I completely missed out cause the pre-2010s kids had actual sandboxes anyway. What is the oddest thing that's happened to you: There is at least one weird thing that happens to me everyday... I don’t really keep track of them either. Have you ever been chased by a wild animal: Yeah, by a flightless bird in a safari. If so, what happened: It saw that I was trying to take a photo of it, so it must’ve been threatened by my camera or the stance I was in so it charged towards me and started aggressivelypecking my foot. I was 12, I didn’t know any better. Who do you miss the most: Nacho.

#survey #surveys

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isidar-mithrim · 6 years ago

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{Once again, Albus Dumbledore changed the course of Remus Lupin’s life when he tracked him down to a tumbledown, semi-derelict cottage in Yorkshire. Delighted to see the Headmaster, Remus was amazed when Dumbledore offered him the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was only persuaded to accept when Dumbledore explained that there would be a limitless supply of Wolfsbane Potion, courtesy of the Potions master, Severus Snape. – Pottermore}

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Note on the story: I was planning to translate other works before this one, but then the amazing FloreatCastellum wrote a piece about Remus meeting Harry on the Hogwarts Express and I felt eager to share this story first ^^ The last bit is an addition to the translation that was inspired by her work!

Ps: a little heads up – if you’re expecting a fluffy, sappy meeting, you’ll probably be disappointed ^^’ I guess this is a slightly ‘unorthodox’ version of the moment, but there’s a reason for it: I started writing it before Remus biography was released on Pottermore, and I didn’t feel that I could give up on certain aspects of the story that I had grown fond of. I’d still say it’s enough pottermore-canon-compliant, and I promise it’s books-canon-compliants ^^

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Bounty hunter

It was a chill summer evening when Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Appeared before the gate of a tumbledown cottage that stood out in Yorkshire open country.

Only the rays of the waning moon enlightened the cobble path which led to the door of the shack, but it was enough to step forward with sure-footedness.

Albus Dumbledore pushed the rusty gate inward, making it screech at his touch, then he walked the short path and lowered his fist on the worn wooden door.

A few minutes later he had received no answer, so he knocked again, this time amplifying the noise with a bit of magic.

He had to wait only a bunch of seconds before the door slammed open.

On the threshold there was a man as worn as his home – his eyes marked by dark circles, his clothes ratty and old, his breath short to betray the sudden sprint he must have made to dart at the door.

Yet, the hand that held the wand against Albus Dumbledore was steady, sure, ready.

The Headmaster smiled serenely, looking at him with his piercing blue eyes.

“Remus. What a pleasure to see you,” he said, his gaze shifting to the still raised wand. “I suppose you weren’t expecting my visit.”

The man kept glaring at him. “I thought I’d done a better job with the defenses around the house,” he said sharply. “I haven’t heard you coming.”

“Oh, they are excellent defenses, but I still remember some old tricks, despite the advancing years,” said the Headmaster with glee. “Now, I’m desolate to bother you at this late hour, but there are several topics I would like to discuss with you, if you would be so kind as to invite me in.”

“You know perfectly well I won’t let you in until you’ve proven to me it’s really you, Dumbledore, even if I really wish you’re the only person capable of getting past my defenses without leaving a single trace.”

“Very well, very well,” nodded Albus Dumbledore, smiling gently. “I am pleased to see you haven’t lost your old and healthy habits toward prudence.”

The ancient wizard drew his wand, summoning his Patronus non verbally. A silver phoenix rose majestically in the night, then vanished in a burst of white flames. The Headmaster looked back at the younger man just in time to see a silver wolf running away and vanishing into thin air.

The man lowered his wand, stowing it behind his shabby robes, and he finally let a smile crease his lips.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, considering the last news,” he said to the Headmaster, stepping aside to let him in.

The inside of the cottage was semi-derelict as the outside had promised.

Except for the bathroom, whose yellowish sink could be glimpsed behind the door left ajar, the house consisted in a single room.

The furniture was reduced to the essential – a bed, a small wardrobe, a table with two chairs – and eaten by woodworms, but overall the space would have seemed clean, if it weren’t for the chaos that ruled.

The table was doused in crumbled newspapers and tore magazines; in most of them Sirius Black’s moving picture stood out on the front page, while others had been flipped through to highlight related news.

On the bed, frayed clothes laid messily near an old suitcase that just waited to be packed, and close by were stored several low-quality magical objects and ingredients, such as a Sneakoscope and potion ivy leaves.

On the shelf above the fireplace there was a small stock of food, a tiny pot half-filled with Floo Powder, and an old radio.

It was the house of a lonely, poor man – a man ready to leave.

The Headmaster looked around while he approached the chair he was offered. Dumbledore thanked amiably for the courtesy and sat down, but Remus stayed up and hastily collected the newspapers on a corner of the table. He then made the water in the kettle boil with a wave of his wand, poured the hot water in two mugs and put a teabag in each one.

When he sat down, Dumbledore simply stared at him through his half-moon spectacles for a while. Remus held his gaze, and eventually Dumbledore let his eyes wander again around the cottage. When he spoke, he did it with the cheerful tone of someone who is complimenting the colour of the curtains.

“I see you are about to leave, Remus.”

“It doesn’t take your keen intuition to guess that much.”

“Oh, it does not indeed,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “But I believe it is the where and the why the most intriguing part of the matter.”

Remus huffed. “As if it isn’t obvious as well.”

Dumbledore ignored the retort and serenely picked one of the magazines, which titled Sirius Black affected by Stockholm Syndrome?

“Obvious?” he asked, flicking through the pages of the Quibbler before looking Remus in the eyes yet again. “What it is obvious is that in front of me sits a capable, fair and talented wizard that in the past years had very few occasions to prove his worth. A wizard that has lived alone for too long, but has finally found the strength to get out and put his skills at use.”

Remus smiled coyly. He didn’t receive compliments very often, and they pleased him more than he was willing to admit.

“And yet, I wonder…” resumed Dumbledore, “is he truly driven by his noble ideals?”

The Headmaster rummaged around the newspapers, picked a front page with a big picture and stretched it out on the table: Sirius Black had a gaunt face and circled eyes, but he looked at them with a determinate gaze.

“I wonder… what lie convinced this talented wizard that it was right to track Sirius Black down?”

Remus frowned at him, clenching his jaw, but Dumbledore kept speaking, nonplussed.

“Has he told himself it is his moral obligation to capture Black because who, if not him, would be able to understand his moves – to anticipate them, even? Or has he told himself that becoming a bounty hunter he may finally be able to make a living?”

The Headmaster was perfectly calm, but Remus was fuming. How dared Dumbledore judging him?

“Do you doubt I’d be able to find him?” he asked with a harsh tone.

“Of course not, my dear Remus!” said Dumbledore with an amused smile that irritated Remus even more.

“Then you’ll see how catching him is my right and my responsibility,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not to mention that I’d finally have a purpose that would make my useless life a bit less useless, for a change.”

“That would be a very noble purpose indeed, but I believe that if you really felt obligated to help catch him, you would not be here making arrangements – no, you would have already used that bit of Floo Powder you have left to go to the Ministry and tell them everything you know.”

“Pity that the Ministry isn’t interested in tagging along with werewolves,” spat out Remus with resentment.

“I fear this is one of the several lies you are telling yourself, Remus,” said Dumbledore gravely, like if he was giving him an unpleasant diagnosis. “You know perfectly well they would be ready to cooperate with you, in order to put behind bars the first wizard that has ever escaped from Azkaban.”

“Well, let’s hear what this great truth would be, then, since I’m apparently full of rubbish!”

“Oh, the truth is very simple, I am afraid. You want to look for him on your own because you do not want to capture him.”

Remus couldn’t believe his own ears. “No, no, you’re right, I don’t want to catch the man who betrayed and killed my best friends, and who also happens to be Voldemort’s right hand and one of the most powerful and dangerous wizards around,” he said with bitter sarcasm.

“No, you don’t want to catch him.” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “You want to kill him. Stop lying to yourself, Remus. We know perfectly well it is not the moral obligation nor the money to drive you. It is a blind, insatiable desire for revenge.”

The Headmaster had struck a nerve, and Remus felt exposed in a way that put him on the defense. “And what if I do?” he asked harshly. “Not even you, with all your high-sounding names, can dare to come here and blame me. Especially not you, since you know perfectly well how deeply Black ruined my life, and not just mine.”

“I totally agree with you.”

Remus widened his eyes, dumbfounded. He had expected Dumbledore to try to dissuade him, to lecture him… not to cheerfully agree.

“It happens, in fact,” continued Dumbledore with a seraphic smile, “that I am not here to blame you. I am here to offer you an alternative, one that all things considered could… how did you put it? Make your useless life a bit less useless, I believe. One that, all things considered, only I and my high-sounding names can offer. And now, if you would be so kind as to listen to this old wizard a little longer, I will gladly discuss it in front of that cup of tea that I would serve before it gets cold, if I were you.”

Remus sent an inquisitive glance at Dumbledore, eager to find out what this was all about, but the Headmaster kept smiling seraphically, not giving anything away, so he stood up, brought the mugs to the table and grabbed a bowl of sugar from the shelf with the stocked food.

“I’ve got no milk,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “And only one teaspoon. How much sugar do you want?”

“Three, if you please. I’m afraid I can’t help indulging my sweet tooth, despite all Madam Pomfrey’s recommendations,” said Dumbledore with a wink.

They sat quietly for a bit, sipping their mildly warm and probably too strong tea.

It was Remus who broke the silence, too curious to wait much longer. “I’m listening.”

Dumbledore put his cup down and fixed him with his penetrating blue eyes. “You have to know, dear Remus, that for the last few decades two have been the worries that trouble me before the new term begins. The first is if someone will finally get me a pair of wool socks for my birthday, instead of the usual, overvalued books,” said Dumbledore with amusement. If Remus hadn’t known him well enough, he would have thought he was nuts. “The second is if this year I will finally have a Defence Against the Dark Art professor actually capable of teaching something to my students – provided that I have one in the first place. Now, I already know there is no hope about my first concern, but I am here to find out if I can sort out the second one.”

Remus’s hearts hammered at the Headmaster’s words, but he didn’t dare take them for granted. “You... are you offering me a job at Hogwarts?”

“Absolutely,” said Dumbledore with delight. “Between us, I am quite proud of my choice. I could have hardly thought of a more fitting candidate.”

“Are you kidding?”

The Headmaster smiled brightly. “Not at all. Of course that would mean you will have to give up your little... hunt, to move at Hogwarts on a permanent basis.”

“Teaching at Hogwarts…” murmured Remus, all the arrangements to leave suddenly meaningless. Could he really do that? It seemed crazy and too good to be true at the same time… It would be the best thing that happened to him in more than a decade… It would be a dream...

“I promise the castle is as welcoming as it has always been, at least until you run into Peeves,” said the Headmaster, clearly enjoying himself.

But Remus couldn’t share Dumbledore’s amusement, because he had just remembered the reason he had always struggled so much to find or keep a decent job – or any job at all, actually.

Was he supposed to transform in the Shrieking Shack? He felt an unpleasant lurch at the mere idea… The last time it had happened, he had had his friends beside him, and the idea of being there without them was painful and terrifying at the same time.

And there was the fact that when he had been a student not everybody had noticed his absences, but as a teacher all the school would have: students were meant to find out, eventually, and the Shack wasn’t even that safe, was it? He had been followed once, so it could happen again…

He swallowed. “What about the full moon?”

“Oh, I am very glad you brought it up, my dear Remus,” said Dumbledore with a pleased smile. “I should have mentioned right away that one of our teachers happens to be able to brew a perfect Wolfsbane Potion, and the school is willing to bear all the costs.”

Remus felt his eyes prickling at the unbelievable news; he blinked hastily, trying to maintain his composure. The Wolfsbane Potion… Merlin, he would be willing to work for free in exchange for a hot meal per day, a proper roof upon his head and a painless transformation.

A moment later he realised which teacher Dumbledore was referring to, and he almost choked on his tea.

“Snape?” he asked, loudlier than he intended. “You want me to drink a potion brewed by Snape?”

“I have complete faith in the goodwill of all my teachers and absolute trust in the talent of some. Severus is among them,” stated Dumbledore, looking truly serious for the first time.

Remus wasn’t very convinced by those words, and from Dumbledore’s look, he knew he wasn’t doing a great job of hiding it.

The Headmaster sighed. “Dark times await us,” he said, concerned. “With Voldemort who I am afraid soon or later will be back and Sirius on the run, Merlin knows how much Harry needs a professor capable of actually teaching him how to defend himself…”

Remus’s eyes widened upon hearing Harry’s name, his heart beating fast yet again. “Do you think… do you think Sirius will look for him?”

“As a matter of fact, I would be surprised if he will not, and I am quite baffled that you had not thought of it, being so determined to catch him.”

Remus could see how silly he had been, now. “I thought he’d be on the track of what’s left of Voldemort,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Oh, I do not doubt that this is one of his next goals, but I will not deny that I would sleep more peacefully knowing I have a trusted man at Hogwarts – one that knows the castle as well as Black, and Black better than anybody else.”

“What’s he like?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” said Dumbledore with amusement.

“I meant… Harry,” specified Remus, despite being sure that Dumbledore knew perfectly well who he was referring to.

“Why ask me when you have the chance to see it with your own eyes?”

Dumbledore put his mug down and smiled kindly before checking his unintelligible watch. “It is running quite late, I am afraid. I am sorry for taking so much of your time. If you are not interested, I will look for another candidate, but it has been a pleasure to s–”

“All right.”

“All right, what?” asked Dumbledore with a knowing smile.

Remus rolled his eyes. “All right, I’ll teach at Hogwarts. But only for this year, giving the circumstances,” he added on a second though. He would love to teach there forever, but he didn’t want to delude himself about it – he had been burned too often to fall in that trap once more.

“Wonderful!” Dumbledore exclaimed cheerfully, clapping his hands. “I will see you on the first of September, then.”

“Yeah… see you on the first.”

Dumbledore had already stood when Remus gave in to the temptation of asking for more. “Hagrid says he looks exactly like James.”

The Headmaster smiled softly. “He does… except for his eyes.”

Remus nodded. He remembered that. “He has Lily’s eyes.”

“He does indeed.”

Finally, Remus was smiling as well.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #one shot #flash fic #missing scene #canon compliant #pottermore #albus dumbledore #remus lupin #harry potter #sirius black #werewolf #hiring #defence against the dark arts #teachers #translation #long post

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toogoodmusic · 4 years ago

Audio

THE TOO GOOD TEN with Drew William

The Canadian Football Player and up and coming singer-songwriter Drew William follows up the early 2021 debut EP Room with the latest Message In A Bottle EP.

While playing music in coffee shops and restaurants for the past few years the athlete took advantage of the canceled football season last year to really dive into his musical passion. Now with six songs released, William has proven his ability to pull at your heartstrings with raw and honest songs that while personal to him can be healing and relatable to anyone who listens. A genuine level of intimacy blossoms in every song that gives way for his music to be both enjoyable alone or with close friends and family.

The latest EP release continues that level of intimacy that his fans have come to expect.The two song project features a brand new original release, “California Coastline” that gives ode to William’s home state while also paying respect to a song close to the singer’s heart with a cover of Post Malone’s “A Thousand Bad Times.” Find out more about Drew William and the latest EP by checking out his Too Good Ten below:

1. Starting from the beginning, when did music start for you? How did you realize you wanted to make a career out of it?

DREW WILLIAM: The beginning is in a one bedroom apartment on Morley Ave. Some discreet little red building in a town most of the world has never heard of; Winnipeg, MB. I picked up the acoustic guitar three years ago in that apartment and have played it every single day since. I came into music naturally. Playing for friends, playing open mics, playing restaurants, pubs, and now going for it in the real music world. Have my first full-set show at Burt Cummings Theatre on April 20th. I feel this is my first big stepping stone.

DREW WILLIAM LIVE STREAM ON RED TIE LIVE’S FACEBOOK ON APRIL 20TH @ 8:00pm EST / 5:00pm PST. CLICK HERE TO WATCH.

2. You were born in California, went to college in Minnesota and now live in Canada. How have those three experiences make their influence into your music? Any of the (3) stick out as being most influential?

DW: I like the surfer rock style a lot, that nostalgic almost drunk atmosphere that it places you inside. And when I moved to the Midwest it was a lot more folk and ballads. I guess I kind of have two sides to myself: this very twenty-six year old feeling his way through life and this old soul that feels like it’s already made the mistakes and is trying to come out and wisen me up. It’s an interesting mix of the two.

3. Congrats on the release of the debut EP, Room. What was the biggest learning from putting together and releasing a debut EP?

DW: To trust in my gut, and to not be so critical on myself. I knew that mixing and producing my own music was a risk, because It was a lonely venture into a world I was just learning about. I knew that I might not have the skills of a veteran who has been doing it for years. But at the same time, I wanted to enter music absolutely as myself. From the get go I wanted to share myself; no matter how rusty or beginner that sounded. I look at all this as a growth of music and a growth of self. I’m having to learn to let go of a lot of insecurities and fears, and for that I have to thank my own music.

4. And now fans have an additional taste of your music with the release of the Message In A Bottle EP. What’s the EP title mean to you?

DW: “Message in a Bottle” came to me from a line in the lyrics: It says, “On that California Coastline / We’re fire and rain at the same time / I found a bottle on the sea / With a message on the inside / Is a tale about a lost love / From a boy who held these memories.” It’s this goodbye to a past version of myself, to the old loves and it’s this intimate goodbye because it’s more than just memory it’s a part of soul, too, that no longer serves.

So the throwing of the bottle is this closure; a letter written and sealed by the same person. An opening up and a goodbye. This seems to be what growth feels like now. Maybe that will change in appearance, or feel differently, I’ll find out. But for now, this feels like a goodbye to an old self, with a mindset of growing up whilst not losing that child inside that makes all of this fun and freeing.

5. You’re not only a musician but also a wide receiver for the Canadian Football League team Winnipeg Blue Bombers. How do you balance being both an artist and an athlete? What’s the biggest challenge of pursing both careers?

DW: This past season was cancelled so it became a focus point to work on my music. This year as we anticipate a season, I have to tread carefully because it’s something I have never done, two things simultaneously. I used to believe these two worlds had to be separate, music and football. But it has proven to be quite the contrary. It has opened the doors for my music to be heard, and I will continue to see them as supporting roles in my life.

6. As an athlete is it tough for you to show a more vulnerable side through your music?

DW: It is. I’ll be straight up honest. There is a lot of insecurity on a football team. Egos, hyper masculinity, these things exist everywhere. But there are guys who are so much more than this sport. I hope to be an example to kids who are afraid to show their emotions, show them that you can be so many different things in life and still maintain your truest essence. I just live passionately, whether that’s on the field or on stage, I’m putting it all on the line.

7. Do you have any funny/fun/weird fan interaction stories you can share?

DW: I was supposed to play this little curb-side concert, this family won it in a little raffle I held and when I showed up it was just one couple. The wife was wasted and the husband was 30 years older than her. Their son came in and out of the room where I half heartedly played for them (he was schizophrenic but was the most normal person in the house). And then there daughter came up from the basement wearing all leather like she was about to hit the corner. She was probably thirty-five, filming me on her phone.. I was very weirded out. The wife had made bacon pirogi's for me. I told her I was a vegetarian. She didn’t understand why someone would do that…. And she kissed me on the cheek when I left. I was very disturbed ha-ha.

8. If you could headline a music festival – which one would be the dream festival? And who would be your choice for the other (2) acts that would headline the other two nights of the festival?

DW: I really think me, The Lumineers and Ziggy Alberts could all put on a nice little folk fest. I wanna play the Red Rocks Amphitheatre in CO. Just an unbelievable venue. Not sure if there is a festival there though! I’ll go to anywhere that will take me at this point!

9. If you could only listen to (5) artists for the rest of your life who would they be?

DW: So basically my life anyway? Ha, I kid I kid. Truthfully: Mt. Joy, The National, Angus & Julia Stone, Cat Stevens & Zella Day

10. What’s the rest of 2021 look like for Drew William?

DW: A whole lot of learning, relationship building, collaboration, and diving deep inside and bringing out The best and truest art. I can feel my life changing before me, it’s frightening but exhilarating. Ready for this ride!

We’re ready for that ride as well! Shout-out to Drew William for hanging for this Too Good Ten. Keep updated with Drew by following along with the links below and be sure to tune TOMORROW, April 20th @ 8:00pm EST / 5:00pm PST right HERE.

Facebook

Instagram

Website

YouTube

The Too Good Ten interview series is dedicated to giving you a quick glimpse at some of the freshest voices in music. Ten Questions. One Artist. Too Good. Let’s go.

While The Too Good Ten is dedicated to just highlighting ten questions from an artist, Too Good Music was lucky enough to score an additional two questions from Drew...check them out below:

BONUS QUESTION #1: Congrats on the new releases of “California Coastline” and the cover of Post Malone’s “A Thousand Bad Times.” What surprised you/or what might people not know about the process of covering and releasing your own version of another artist’s song?

DW: The part I was focused on was really making it my own version. Something people know but don’t know, so it feels like an entirely different ride. I wanted also to pay my respects to the song. It meant a lot to me. I’m sure it helped a lot of people. It’s also a message I needed to hear, especially now. We all need this reminder. We’re all feeling something right now, no need to hide that. This is a very hard time. But we are resilient people and it’s been a gift to witness and a gift to make music that continues to carry this message of resiliency and strength.

BONUS QUESTION #2: Your Quarantine Campfire series on IG live – where you perform, do Q&A’s and bring along friend’s and guests – is awesome. How’d you come up with that concept and would be a dream guest on the series?

DW: This was an extension of the in-person curb-side-concerts I was doing throughout the summer. Creating an intimate and safe place to share music, highlight some local artists and just have fun with the community. Man… My dream guest. Probably Zella Day cuz I got a lot respect for her music and I once saw her sing “Man on the Moon” on YouTube, all acoustic, and I was blown away. It would hit perfectly on my quarantine campfire.

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trashartandmovies · 4 years ago

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Berlinale Film Festival 2021, Industry Event, Final Day

There was an added bonus to our originally scheduled plan for five days of press streamings. On the weekend following those five days, the winners of the Competition program would be available on Saturday, and the winners of the Encounters program would be available on Sunday. Winners from Generations and the Shorts programs would also get a second screening.

Since I’d made a point of seeing the Competition films, I decided to focus on the ones from the Encounters lineup that I hadn’t got a chance to see. (In case you’re wondering: here are the lists of award-winners for Competition, Encounters, Generations and Shorts.

First up was Lê Bảo’s Vị (TASTE), a film that cites six countries in helping with the production: Vietnam, Singapore, France, Thailand, Germany and Taiwan. It won the Special Jury Award in the Encounters program, and it’s not hard to see why. The film is legitimately striking; a bold visual poem about a Nigerian who comes to Saigon to play football, breaks his foot, and begins working a mysterious job with four middle-aged Vietnamese women. There isn’t much more plot than that, very little is explained, there’s hardly any dialog, but the film evokes a lot of different feelings through its artfully staged tableaus of bodies at motion and at rest. The color palette is severe — greys, blues, whites and rusty earth tones — but also beautiful. There is the periodic burst of sunshine that enters in through a window or doorway, and small splashes of color that come from the ingredients of the food they spend a lot of time preparing. But mostly, we’re in a chilly underground location that has little else besides a few beds and an old television.

It’s difficult to parse out the meaning of TASTE, but I’m not sure such an endeavor isn’t foolish. You could say there’s something about worker exploitation here, but if you squint and tilt your head, there could also be a message about the transcendence of work as well. Ultimately, this is an art film. It wouldn’t feel out of place in the halls of MOMA or wherever else you find eager minds for the abstract. One of the appealing things about the film is that it is freely open to interpretation and can be read in different ways. The only thing that’s for certain is that TASTE is about connections, those we make with our surroundings, our food, and those we work with. It’s about the ceremonies we create to forge those connections and help us through our days.

It’s not easy to make a film that truly feels like a dream. Sure, TASTE has a lot of unresolved mystery to it, but as a foray into dream logic, it is comfortably consistent in its mood and atmosphere. This is a plus and a minus, because TASTE is also quite effective in lulling you into a kind of heavy-lidded hypnosis. It taps into a very different part of your brain than the average movie.

The last feature film I caught up with was the newest film by Ramon Zürcher, this time co-directing and co-writing with his brother Silvan Zürcher. Ramon’s previous film, THE STRANGE LITTLE CAT, was a hit on the film festival circuit back in 2013. I still need to catch up with that one, and I will, even though I found little to enjoy in the Zürcher Brothers’ THE GIRL AND THE SPIDER.

The set-up is pretty interesting. Lisa, a young woman, is moving to a new apartment and leaving behind a few roommates. One of those roommates, Mara, isn’t taking it so well. In fact, she seems to be rather heartbroken and bitter — and maybe a little self-destructive. But mostly she seems to be intent on making barbed, passive-aggressive comments at Lisa and everyone who has the misfortune of getting close to her. You see, Mara is like a spider. She’s alluring and mysterious enough to draw you in, but once you get close, you just become trapped in her abusive mind games. As I mentioned, pretty solid set-up for a tricky, dark relationship movie. There’s something to it, and the movie kicks around the idea of lonely hurt people hurting other lonely hurt people, but we don’t get very far.

One problem is that as the movie goes on, and we meet the other roommates that Lisa is leaving behind, we start to get the idea that maybe Mara has always been this mean manipulator. Maybe her heartbreak over Lisa leaving isn’t that much of a motivator. Maybe her other roommates are also passive-aggressive emotionally damaged loose cannons. Why can’t anyone say what they mean? Must everyone be so aloof? Must every line of dialog cryptically dance around true feelings? Why must someone be eavesdropping behind a door during every other conversation? To me, it just comes across as sub-par writing. Before long, it felt like the only reason these people were talking this way was because if anyone spoke honestly the movie would be about 15 minutes long. Instead, it slowly drove me crazy over a very long 98 minutes.

Now, some of these choices are understandable. I’ve lived with roommates. I know that these situations can be passive-aggressive nightmares where no one feels comfortable enough to say what they really feel. This too, is a good set-up for a movie, with plenty of interesting angles to explore. But again, we only dance on the surface. None of the characters open up, everyone’s motivations are fuzzy. In the end, these people remain more or less as we found them. Mara comes closest to revealing a little bit about herself, but it’s all very frustrating. On a few occasions, the film takes detours, cutting away to visualize a story being told. Sometimes it involves an elderly eccentric neighbor in the building, other times it’s a fantasy about the previous owner of the piano that sits in the apartment. Immediately, the protagonists of these stories become way more compelling than the dreary twenty-somethings that we’re stuck with the rest of the time.

Aside from my issues with the writing, the movie looks great. The Zürcher’s have a good eye and they know how to observe misery while luxuriating in icy detachment like, say, Michael Haneke. There are also good rhythms going on here. From the little I know THE STRANGE LITTLE CAT, it would appear that Ramon Zürcher is still interested in capturing the details of interiors, and paying attention to the animals that are running around people’s feet. Scene’s often end with still-life portraits of items on tabletops, knocked over bottles, subtle signs of life and little punctuations upon the preceding scene. It’s a nice touch. I only wish those scenes told a more engaging story.

Thoroughly exhausted, with the last remaining hours of the streaming schedule dwindling away, there were a few award-winning shorts left to watch. Feeling like animation might be a nice change of pace, I went for EASTER EGGS, a Belgian/French/Netherlands production, written and directed by Nicolas Keppens. In some ways, it was a perfect little finale.

Even though EASTER EGGS could be a contemporary story, it feels like a tender look back, maybe some twenty years ago, at a painful teenage moment. It’s a story about two kids, Kevin the bully and Jason the enabler, and their woefully unhealthy friendship. There’s a vague plan to capture some valuable birds that were left behind when a local Chinese restaurant closed down — and there are some laughs to be had — but mostly it’s achingly sad to watch Jason pine for Kevin’s attention and approval, while Kevin just walks all over him. But given the gentle hand that this story is told with, that sadness is more poignant than depressing. Keppens shows a love and sensitivity for these characters. They’re way more than just some Belgian Beavis and Butthead. They represent something many of us have gone through in our youth — longing for friendship and someone to share your imaginative, ambitious plans with. It’s not exactly a feeling that goes away, which is why EASTER EGGS still carries a lot of weight.

Let me just add a few more thoughts to this First Round of 2021’s Berlinale Film Festival. Despite my longings for more time to spend with such a quality lineup of films, I’m impressed that everything went so smoothly. The streaming platform worked incredibly smoothly (even if it was a bummer I couldn’t cast that stream onto my TV), and the quality of the films was excellent — both in picture and sound as well as moviemaking craft. It wasn’t ideal, but it was great to be a part of. I’ll also take a sentence here to recommend visiting the Berlinale Meets page, as well as the video section, where there is an impressive collection of conversations with this year’s filmmakers for more viewing enjoyment.

While there’s a lot from this festival that I’m still hoping to see, judging from the Competition and Encounters films that I have seen, this was an exceptionally strong year for female voices and female-led stories. This was clearly one of the most impressive things about the 2021 Berlinale. PETITE MAMAN, A COP MOVIE, MEMORY BOX, I’M YOUR MAN, HERR BACHMAN, WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY, BALAD OF A WHITE COW, BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONEY PORN — each of these films, which are just from the Competition section, were either directed by a woman or told stories about women. In the case of WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY, there were three stories and three female protagonists. (You could probably make a case for adding WHAT DO WE SEE WHEN WE LOOK AT THE SKY?, but I digress...) And you know what, those were the best films in the main lineup. I’ll also throw in the strong entries in the ENCOUNTERS category, Dasha Nekrasova’s THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST and the best film winner of the category Alice Diop’s NOUS (WE). Personally, I especially liked the connections between PETITE MAMAN and MEMORY BOX, which both dealt with making connections between mother and daughter in unique, cinematic ways. I hope this level of representation continues in the years to come.

Now, let’s keep our fingers crossed for Part Two of the Berlinale, the Summer Special. See you June 9th.

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saintheartwing · 5 years ago

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Invader Zim: DON’T READ THIS BOOK

I made this little story in honor of the release of “Enter the Florpus” a while back, hope you enjoy it!

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Senior was not what you'd call an ordinary Irken, because unlike many, many other Irkens, he had inside him something special...

A conscience.

The metallic computer on his back, embedded deep in his body, the "PAK" as it was called, was designed to try and suppress negative feelings and desires towards the Irken Empire. The rather bug-like, green-skinned, black-antannae-having aliens who's leaders were just taller than everyone had their PAKs work hard to make sure nobody rebelled against the status quo. But the thing was...the "Superior Irken Empire" was stupid. Very stupid and very arrogant. They hadn't bothered to check to see if their PAK's anti-viral software or basic fundamental foundational mainframes were up to snuff. They'd just assumed that, since they'd conquered most of their would-be enemies and allies, what did THEY have to worry about people trying to infect or fiddle with PAKs?

They were wrong. Now there was a growing host of Irkens who were beginning to think different, and Senior, the Senior Communications Officer of the Massive, was one of them.

And he loved Earth, especially it's culture. He loved its art, he loved its music, he loved its movies, he loved its games. He could play them for a hundred years and not ever get bored. It was difficult, however, to sneak things from the black market that sold Earthen items onto the Massive if you weren't careful, and even MORE so now that the black market had had to pick up and move, and he hadn't found the new location yet.

So that was why he was standing not even at a secondhand store...but some dingy, pathetic-looking hole in the wall on the East side of Conventia, the Convention Planet. The place appeared to be devoted to secondhand items, mostly clothing and the like. Not that Senior needed it. Irkens only really wore one type of clothing depending on their job, and he had a communication officer's garb.

Black gloves, black boots. Faintly bellbottom-esque pants and a green long-sleeve shirt with a grey undershirt that slid up the neck, with a green "mask" that only covered the lower region of his face, with a communication officer's personalized headset, which wrapped itself around his head, the ends placed on either side of his "ears". His shoulder and arm sections were a darker shade of green than the "half mask" and chest and pants he had, and his eyes were also a beautiful and entrancing shade of green as well as he looked around the shop. The storekeeper, a faintly yellow-eyed, rather unfortunate-looking Irken, pled for Senior to look around and see if he could find something of use.

So Senior, feeling sorry for the rather run-down shop and the shopkeeper, peered about the shelves, the counters, the racks, and...he noticed something. Something that had a kind of magnetic quality to it. A volume of some kind, a book on a low shelf that was gathering dust. He plucked it off the shelf, and looked it over. It wasn't thick, that was for sure, and not tall in height either. It appeared to be bound in some kind of leather, but the leather of some sort of animal he didn't recognize. Normal Earthen leather was brown, most types were brown, this was...purplish/black and with an odd texture to it at that!

There wasn't any title or inscription, but there was an inch wide iron strap runnning completely around the book that kept it shut and locked, for a small, rusty iron padlock of antique design was hooked through a hasp where the ends of the iron strap overlapped. "Mind explaining where this came from?"

"Oh, it's from Earth, sir. A volume of the utmost rarity. I snuck it out of a hotel room. You see, the rpevious owner had vanished from his hotel room, and nobody ever saw him again. While the authorities were trying to decide what counted as evidence, yours truly snuck the book out because it looked so fascinating!" The yellow-eyed Irken said with a grin.

Indeed, there were actually quite a few aliens on Earth, Irkens included, and not just...ZIM. They were trying to eek out a living away from the typical issues that came with being in the Empire, and selling Earthen things to tourists or the like was a simple, easy way to do so. Especially since so many Earth people were idiots, who couldn't recognize when someone was an alien!

Senior opened up the book, the iron hinge at the back moving without much difficulty, and his heart almost leapt into his mouth. At the top of the very first page was Latin. An ancient language, a dead one, and he knew what it said. "Recipes and Conjurations, Volume 1". He'd been using Latin as a way to pass notes around the Massive to his dear friends who felt very much like he did, and teaching them how to read it. The Tallest, his bosses, sure as hell couldn't read it and neither could any of their loyalists, it was, after all, a filthy huuuuuuuuuman thing. Who gave a shit?

But he could read it very well. This book looked very promising. There were tantalizing headings. "To Be Invisible", "To Make A Demon Bring Three Bags of Gold", "To Make Three Women Appear in Your Room". Intriguing indeed. FLIP-FLIP-FLIP!

He flipped through the pages, looking at what laid within when he stopped, eyes wide at the picture that laid in the center of the book. It was a very well-painted, beautifully detailed picture indeed, and though the parchment of the book was faded, the brilliant colors of the hungry and somewhat small-looking dragon within were undimmed. Wow, the thing was U-G-L-Y, it ain't got no alibi, you ugly, hey-hey, you UGLY. Bright yellow eyes, wicked claws, green, mossy scales on its body, a thick red tail, curled around a rather horrific amount of skulls in the back-

HUMAN skulls. And one of them looked rather fresh, the others looked old, somewhat cracked or dusty and the dragon itself wasn't as thin as he'd thought, in fact, it sort of had a very faint bulge to its gut.

What if?...no, that was ridiculous, a silly idea.

...but still...

"Any...um...other books like this in your store? It says "Volume 1", I wondered if..."

"No, afraid not."

"Okay. Tell you what. I'll give you fifty for it." Senior offered.

Soon he was walking out of the store, and sneaking the book into the Massive under his shirt, feeling very satisfied as he headed to his room, looking through the book in his lovely white bedroom as he laid on his bed and rested his body on the comforter blankets he had. "Hmm." He titled his head to the side, examining it closely. He poured over the book for a good hour before returning to the Bridge, where the Tallest were waiting.

Uh oh. They had that look in their eye. Both the Tallests had thin claws sticking out of their gauntlets, they'd cut off their thumb when they'd become Tallest. They had big round chest compartments, a thin "stomach" region that was almost like a ribcage riding down from the chest to their lower bodies, held under a sort of "dress", or a robe. They were very tall too, Senior was a good six foot three, but the Tallest were six foot six. Red and Purple, named after their eye color and having armor coloring to match, were grinning evilly.

"We KNOW you snuck something onto the ship." Red said with a dark chuckle. "We caught you this time! Purple here actually noticed the bulge in your pants."

"...why were you looking at my pants?" Senior inquired, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up into the air.

Purple immediately blushed. "That's not important." He said quickly. "Although you've a lovely set of eyes. At any rate, what is it? Remember what happened the last time you snuck some Earthen junk onto the ship?"

"Yeah, I had to share." Senior sighed. He'd tried to sneak a bunch of Earthen candy and everything onto the Massive once. He'd WANTED to send it to his wife and children, Vortians, a grey-skinned race with goat-like horns and springy legs but the Tallest had caught him and he'd been forced to give up his candy to them. "It's just a book." He muttered. "It's not anything you'd be interested in, I mean, it's all in Latin."

"Hey, we're not stupid!" Purple insisted, giving Senior a glower as he folded his arms over his chest and glowered. "We've been learning Latin ourselves, y'know! We managed to find a crumbled-up translation key in the garbage while Red and I were in the cafeteria and looking for somebody to stick garbage duty on. We're pretty good at it now! So hand it over."

Senior sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled it out, the Tallest examining the book, stopping at the picture of the dragon. "...myyyyyy myyyyyyyyy." Red whispered. "What is this creature?"

"They call it a "dragon", right?" Purple remarked, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up as he looked it over as he sniffed at the book's cover. "...YECH. I recognize that smell. This "leather" isn't "leather"! It's SKIN! Somebody's skin!"

Senior gagged in disgust, wiping his gloved hands on his shirt, cringing, sticking his long, wormlike tongue out of his mouth. "YECCCHH!"

"EW!"

"GROSS!"

"BLAUGH!" The other crew mates on the bridge all looked disgusted. But one of them, Dyte, an Elite Guard who wore thick armor and a metallic facial mask over her lower head much like Senior did, looked intrigued.

"How do you know what human skin smells like?" She quietly inquired.

Purple blushed again. "Well, um...we, uh...we get stuff off the black market too...Zim sent us up this really irritating kid with an overly cheery smile for an experiment and he said he wanted us to see him replace the kid's brain with a probe, so..."

"And that's what happened to my cranial cavity!" Nick remarked cheerily to the guidance counselor at school, who was projectile vomiting in the nearby bathroom. "The Tallest cooked and ate my brain with a light wine sauce! The red one kept calling me "Clariiiice" and laughing evilly, too. Purple only really "likes the skins" though, so he got to-"

"OH GOD PLEASE I'VE NOTHING LEFT TO THROW UP BUT MY NUTS-BLAAAAUHGGGKK!"

"We think we'll keep this." Red said with a laugh as he and Purple headed back for their room, looking over the book, leaving poor Senior and the crew to manage the bridge as they poured over the tome. Yes, it was bound in human skin, and older than the 18th century. There was an inscription faintly faded on the inside cover of the story that read "Open not this book twixt dusk and dawn, lest you unleash the Devil's spawn."

The book was indeed full of magical recipes and conjurations but the REQUIREMENTS were rather difficult. One of them, for example, to get a demon to give you three bags of gold, asked that you get fat melted from the hand of someone hanged upon a gibbet! You poured the fat into a salt circle and the demon would appear and drop off the bag of gold. You had to have the salt circle, or the demon would drag you down to Hell!

But of course, that picture of the dragon really drew their attention most of all. Those green scales, those long, bluish/black claws it had! It had a foul, wicked-looking set of black wings, scarlet filaments dangling from its head almost like seaweed, its eyes a bright yellow, with sickeningly dark red pupils. The thing squatted on a tiled floor of stone, jaws slightly agape, its expression rather ravenous despite looking like it had just eaten not that long ago. Behind the dragon laid the skulls, thirteen of them, all done with such detail it was creepy, and the discoloration on some of them clearly showed a few were older, others were not. The accuracy was creepy to the Tallest, though they'd seen plenty of dead bodies and the like and had no problem making others suffer, there was...just...something. Something about the picture that seemed eerily real and freakish.

"Let's study this." Red insisted. "There's gotta be a spell in here that we can try out."

The two stayed in their rooms, ordering dinner to be brought TO them as they kept pouring over the pages. About half an hour later, poor, beleaguered Senior was knocking on their door, a tray loaded up with food for the Tallest to enjoy. But...they didn't answer.

Senior had a creeping and unpleasant feeling rising in him. He gulped nervously, and then put the tray down, slowwwwwly opening up the door.

They were...gone. The room was an absolute wreck. Chairs had fallen over, the window that looked out at the expanse of space beyond had almost cracked open, the bookcase had fallen, the bed was torn up, the carpeting had big gashes in it, and...the Tallest's PAKs laid on the ground to the side, as if...spat casually out like watermelon seeds.

The book laid on the floor in the middle of it all.

Senior decided he was not going to pick the damn thing up tonight. He slammed the door shut and raced off, and he headed to bed, burying his face in his pillow, and trying very hard not to think about what had happened to the Tallest. Trying VERY hard and failing.

Come the next day, Senior spoke to the crew of the Massive. With the Tallest gone, HE was now the Tallest on the ship. And they needed to decide what to do. First order of business...

ZIM could have the stupid book. So they'd teleported it to his house, and the small, ruby-maroon-eyed Invader eagerly accepted the "gift" from his Tallest as Senior informed him that they'd have a long chat about the new state of things later. Still, Senior wasn't a cruel person. Even if he was furious with Zim for stupidly getting Tallest Miyuki and Spork killed, even if he thought Zim was a jerk, a selfish monster with an ego the size of a planet who'd gotten Senior's favorite boss, the woman he'd loved as dearly as a sister, killed...

"...look, Zim...don't...open that book between dusk and dawn on Earth. It's...what? 6 in the morning and 8 at night? Don’t look at it night, don't open it up then, alright?" Senior said. "Just don't."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure!" Zim said in his rather loud voice, looking very certain of himself as he examined the book. It was a good thing it was already past dusk now. "I'll be fine!" He said as he looked over the picture of the dragon. "Oooh, that's one VERY nice dragon. I should make my own!"

"Yeah, quite a nasty-looking thing, huh? Sort of a lean, mean green eating machine." Senior confessed.

"Not that "lean", really." Zim confessed as Senior gulped.

"...oh? Wh-what's it look like?"

"Well, he still looks hungry alright, though he's not thin or skinny. Kind of tubby a bit, yeah, bit of a bulge to his gut. And there's fifteen skulls in the back and the dragon also looks kind of...well, smug!" Zim laughed. "Sort of reminds me of myself!"

Senior looked very pale. "Uh...w-well, um...g-good luck! Bye!" He said, cutting the call off, as Zim was left alone with the book as he poured over it even more, grinning at the insides as the computer translated the Latin for him.

"Oooh, so I have to get fat from the hand of a man hung from a gibbet...computer! What's a gibbet? I need a gibbet!" Zim proclaimed dramatically.

Zim spent a good deal of the night reading through the book, eagerly imagining what sort of nasty stuff he could do and what he could summon. He especially wanted to try out a spell within the book that involved 18th century German needlework. He'd insert the needles into spots on the filthy DIB'S body and it would summon a demon that would make him king of any land he wanted...complete with a fancy-looking crown too. GIR could keep the crown, his robotic servant liked shiny stuff.

The next morning, the sun bathing its rays through the window, Zim looked at the book. He had closed it three hours earlier, and he knew that he wasn't supposed to open it again, and he didn't carry a backpack he could stick the thing in. Plus, his pants pockets weren't big enough to hold the book. Still, he wanted to keep reading it...and more importantly, he wanted to capture Dib and show him in excruciating detail what he intended to do to the black, scythe-haired young lad. So he put the book down atop a nearby table, putting a glass of soda on top of the picture of the hungry dragon as he headed off for the laboratory, going to take the elevator in the toilet. "GIR! Go fetch me the Dib immediately! I must be ready for him!"

"Okeydokey!" GIR said, the little blue-eyed robot saluting cheerily and sauntering out the door, Zim rubbing his clawed, black-gloved hands together as he headed down into the laboratory as the rays of the sun filtered through the window and onto the table.

Thus, he didn't hear the crash of the glass as it fell off the floor a little while later.

...

...Dib was astounded to see what he saw when GIR brought his tied-up form to the house. There was broken glass all over, the tables had been ravaged along with the couch, tears and scratches and slashes all over the carpet and walls, and windows had been broken into chunks, and Zim's PAK laid to the side, as if it was a wad of trash just tossed to the side. GIR looked around in confusion, finally racing to the television, embedded in the wall as if tossed at something in a panic, and he began sobbing. "OH THE HUMANITY!" he cried out as Dib nervously gulped and then tried to speak up, to address Zim's computer system embedded in the house.

"What...happened?" He inquired as he finally wriggled free of the poorly-tied ropes he was stuck in.

But the computer was silent. Something had clearly damaged it. And...a book laid nearby. Dib looked it over, picking it up, cringing. Ugh, the thing was made of human skin and what was this picture? A dragon, and...wow. WOW, he looked smug. A jolly little fat beast, a grin on him from ear to ear. Dib glanced around the room, looking down at the book, and then at...the pile of skulls...in...the back of...

His eyes went wide. He slammed the book shut, and he took off his belt, wrapping it firmly around the book and he barreled out of the house, and headed off for a long-since abandoned house. He stuffed the book inside the decaying couch, ignoring the hissing cockroaches that laid all about, and the glasses-wearing young lad barreled out the door, not stopping to look back.

The house remained untouched for the next few weeks, and then, one night, a terrible storm happened. A bolt of lightning struck the house, and it went up in blazes, reduced to a heap of charred beams and powdery ashes.

People crowded all about the ravaged house, Dib included, as his eyes slowly widened behind his glasses, Professor Membrane and Gaz looking on, intrigued as well. His dad and sister could see something was VERY off...because what laid in the wreckage of the burned up house was a pile of skulls. Skulls not only of human origin, but of distinctly...something else. And not just those skulls, but a great amount of bones nearby that were more obscure in origin.

Professor Membrane immediately cordoned off the place and took claim over the spot. Nobody contested this. He was, after all, THE Professor Membrane. He took the bones to his laboratory for research and within a few days, and with Dib helping him, Dib occasionally giggling for some reason over one PARTICULAR skull indeed, snorting a bit as he held the skull up and made it "talk" in a high pitched, irritatingly arrogant voice, he made an announcement.

The skulls were, indeed, not all human. Some of them appeared to be...mutant. Some kind of mutant bug, an offshoot of the insect race that had gotten to human size. Thank goodness they were dead! Who knew what horrors they'd unleash if they ever met any unfortunate human, insects that size would destroy the whole world! Dib didn't seem to mind this, since he'd been the one to suggest that they were insectoid to begin with. In fact, he'd gotten even more praise from his father by suggesting he knew where they could find where the things were hanging out. Zim's house was picked clean within a day, and a VERY happy-looking Dib got to keep GIR and Zim's other robotic servant, Minimoose, for himself.

They didn't mind. After all, he had cable. And Dib got praise for having realized all along that his neighbor Zim was actually an EVIL MUTANT INSECT BENT ON TAKING OVER THE WORLD! Dib suggested that Zim and several other mutants had been gobbled up by a "superpredator" that had burnt alive within its lair inside the abandoned house, and there, but for the grace of god, went them.

They couldn't quite identify what the predator was though. Professor Membrane finally threw up his hands and suggested it was some kind of saber-toothed tiger, a leftover from an age long gone by that had eaten up quite a few people indeed. And based on the dental records, it had been all over the country! Thank goodness it was dead and gone.

But when Dib got a call from a frequent customer of his, someone who was happy to buy up Dib's recorded television shows like Mysterious Mysteries and the memorabilia it had, something wiped the smile off his face that had been there ever since that house had burned down.

"So...he's really gone?" Senior quietly asked.

"Yep! He's not only merely dead, he's really most sincerely dead!" Dib laughed as he sat at his desk, looking at his computer screen.

"I'm just glad that damn book is gone." Senior confessed, now sitting in the main chair of the bridge, on his way to the Tallest homeworld. There were gonna be some changes now that he was in charge! "It can't hurt anyone else."

"Do you know who wrote it?" Dib wanted to know. "Did you ever read enough of it to find that out?"

"No clue. But I'd keep your eye out just in case. Reach out to your contacts, and keep a look out, just in case-"

"In case what?" Dib asked, chuckling a bit. "The book's gone! That dragon's gone."

Senior looked at him, looking surprised. "Didn't you read the title?"

"No?"

"Recipes and Conjurations, Volume 1. VOLUME ONE, Dib."

Dib's face turned pale.

#fanfiction #fanfic #Invader Zim #Zim #Dib #horror #comedy #Senior

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whereisthefood123 · 8 years ago

Text

Writer Questions

Tagged by @theolddarkmachine and @nocturna131 thank you for the tag sweeties! I swear I’m not procastinating at work but if you want to send asks or distract me from my responsibilities I’m not going to complain lol

1) How many works in progress do you currently have?

Not counting the ones I just have the main idea or the outline? 14 works in progress that go from having just one paragraph already written up to 28 single-spacing-pages (and the 28-pages fic won’t be coming to light any time soon since there is so much editing to do!). Including outline or main idea: 32 (but some are very old, so I’ll probably just drop them but I still have them in a gdocs just in case). These include at least 6 multi-chapter fics that I haven’t been brave enough to finish or publish lol.

2) Do you/would you write fanfiction?

Yeap! I love writing fanfiction! I would have started years ago if I knew it was a thing lol. When I was a kid and got obsessed with a show or a movie, I tended to create all this alternative follow ups or side stories and I just enjoyed replaying them in my mind until I found something else to get myself busy with. So I don’t think I’ll stop writing fanfiction for a while. I might try to write an original story but not in the near future.

3) Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

I’ll go with ebooks. I love the feeling and smell of paper books but for some odd reason, whenever I buy a new book I just store it away in my bookshelf and never open it lol kinda like I’m just hoarding books but never reading them xD Then I would look for the electronic version of it and read it in my phone or my computer lol. So, in a way I prefer both but I just read ebooks.

4) When did you start writing?

When I was 10 I used to write songs with a childhood friend (they were super silly cheesy friendship songs and we found the lyrics’ notebook like 8 years later and cringed and throw the notebook to the trash lol). Then, when I was 13 I wrote a small original story for a school contest and won two tickets for a concert. After that, I only wrote school related essays (engineering and environmental essays for the most part). A year ago I discovered fanfiction.net and I started writing my own fics for Cyborg 009 fandom and then for Fairy Tail fandom.

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

I’ve shared my work with some of my tumblr friends when I’m doubting about triggers or I’m not too sure about my writing. But I don’t do this too often. I’m super insecure about my work and too proud to ask for help (lol worst combination ever) so if I’ve ever shared my work with you before posting it, it’s because I trust you so so much that I’m able to swallow my pride and my fears (if I haven’t shared it with you it has nothing to do with you but with my personal issues lol). I just tend to reread my work over and over and over again until I feel enough confidence in it to make it public. Honestly, that’s why I have so many WIPs. Some of them are practically finished stories but I didn’t feel that confidence in them so I just stored them away.

6) Where is your favorite place to write?

I always get the best inspiration at work. Like, when I have a shit ton of reports to do, that’s when I feel the words flowing and the story taking shape real nicely that I just have to write everything down. Though I’m in dire need to change my writing environment at home. I can’t seem to focus any more in my room, so I might move to another place in my house or rearrange some things in my room to feel a different vibe. I might follow through @theolddarkmachine advice and start taking a notebook and a pen and write somewhere outside for a change.

7) Favorite childhood book?

Honestly? I was never one to like books too much. I read some when I was a kid but I prefered watching tv or going outside. But I do remember one that I liked very much called “The Knight in Rusty Armor” and I think I still have it somewhere around my house. “Looking for Alaska” is another one I liked a lot that I read a bit older (though it had the fate described in question 3 lol).

8) Writing for fun or publication?

For fun definitely. I don’t think my writing is publishing material. Though if I ever get to the point where I deem my work good enough, I’d like to publish something I enjoyed writing.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

As of now, computer. But I’ll get my hands back to pen and paper to get my inspiration going! Though my handwriting is so awful that sometimes even I don’t understand what I wrote down (this was a big issue back in college when I wanted to study from my notes lol)

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

*nervous laughter* I haven’t haha. I took the normal classes in college on how to write a research paper and how to use references and that sort of things (both in english and spanish) but I never took any class on creative writing or something similar. I had the chance to take a creative writing class in college but I chose another class instead thinking I would fail creative writing lol. If I’d known it would be this fun I would have taken it haha. It probably would have helped me improve a lot lol well, live and learn.

11) What inspires you to write?

It highly depends on what I’m writing. Some fics are inspired by songs, other by prompts, other by posible canon divergences, and others by pure stubbornness of my mind to not let me sleep until I write that fic!! So my inspiration can come from any place actually.

Examples:

A fine Life was inspired by @bluuesparrow‘s art and by the movie “Tales of an Immoral couple”

Sun was inspired by a tumblr post

To the beat of my song was inspired by the song “93 million miles” by Jason Mraz

Broken was inspired by @neen-writes one-shot

Auto-da-fé (coming soon) was inspired by that stubbornness I mentioned

Yes, I took the opportunity for some self-promotion time and to throw you the name for my newest upcoming fic (so it won’t be left into my pile of wips)

I’ll tag: Let’s tag a bunch of people, if you were tagged before or just don’t want to do this you can ignore it lol @ranunculus-fox @snowmadien @spikerr @writingissues @xambedo @moonbeammadness @sketcher1994 @aya-eisen @capaleran2 @mangaguitar96 @neen-writes @littlemumu and anyone else that wants to do this!

#writer questions meme #thank you for tagging me!#this took me longer that expected lol #I had to look through my folder of wips and count all of them lol #I realized I stopped creating a new document for each wip. instead I've piled them up in a doc named 'why can't I finish one story first?!'#auto-da-fé might change its name #it depends on the final outcome of the fic #it's going to be a multi-chap btw #remember my commission for blue?#yeap. that's for auto-da-fé

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alexanderhamllton · 8 years ago

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3, 30, 300 [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Summary: A new phase of your life begins as you move to an apartment in New York with an unknown roommate.

Word Count: 2,568

Warnings: None, maybe one ot two curse words?

Author’s notes: Wow, I've been with so many things in the works between college, collabs and personal matters that I didn’t even see time fly. This is the first thing I’ve written by myself in probably months, so I apologize in advance if I’m a little rusty. This is pure fluff and an adaptation of a story I wrote for my crative writing class, so... I hope you guys like it!

askbox | masterlist

“Sorry, I didn’t-” your hands touched and the blush on your face became even more evident.

“No, it’s okay. Take it.” Lin’s smile was genuine, and you took the knife without saying a word. The both of you ate in silence, the cutlery against the ceramic plates being the only sound in the small kitchen and neither knowing how the dynamic between you worked.

Well, it was the first time you were sharing an apartment with a stranger, afterall.

You blamed the big city, the fear of conquering the concrete jungle without anyone to go to if needed. Online adverts about sharing an apartment in New York City brought you and Lin-Manuel together, both not knowing what each other looked like until only a few hours earlier, your moving trucks competing for a parking spot in front of the old building.

The two bedrooms were smaller than they looked like in the advert, which was already pretty small. When seeing the amount of boxes you unloaded, Lin gave up the bigger bedroom in exchange for you letting him place his piano in the cramped living room: you were unsure of how many nights you wouldn’t be able to sleep because of the instrument, but your initial bet was ‘many’.

You were right.

3rd day as roommates

It took two nights for you to not be able to sleep. You didn’t blame the music, which was surprisingly good, but the repetition didn’t allow you to drift into slumber and as much as you were more of a night owl than an early bird, you still had classes in the morning.

“Lin?” Your voice was almost above a whisper as you opened the bedroom door and the dimmed light made you scrunch your eyes.

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?”

“Uh, not really, I didn’t manage to fall asleep at all,” you replied, shooting him a smile after noticing the blush spreading across his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not blaming you.”

“You’re not?” He turned from the piano, watching as you took a seat in the couch that your mother bought for the place. It smelt like new furniture and you still weren’t comfortable with it.

“I’m not, at least not entirely.” Lin chuckled before scratching the back of his neck, and you took that split second to take in his features for the first time. “New York can be… Intimidating.”

“You think so?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” you teased, making him laugh.

“Sorry. New York has always been my home, I was born and raised here. Just came back from college, actually.”

“What did you major in?”

“Theater Arts and English.”

“Makes sense, because of the… Composing.” You commented, closing your eyes for a second as you internally cringed. “Do you- Do you want some tea? Coffee, maybe?”

“I’ll never say no to coffee,” he replied, smiling. You got up, heading to the small joined kitchen as he followed you, leaning against the opposite kitchen counter from the one you were getting the mugs from. “We never really talked about each other, huh?”

“We met two days ago. And it’s not like we’re here all the time, either,” you replied, turning to face him for a second before getting back to the mugs.

“That’s true… What do you do the whole day?” Lin gave himself a little push before sitting on the kitchen counter, only a few seconds after you handed him his black coffee. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled, before sitting on the counter as well and cupping the mug full of green tea in your hands. “I work the most stressful job of all: Retail,” his apologetic face made you giggle. “I know, it’s a nightmare.”

“I can’t say it’s the best job in the world, no.” You felt warm inside that you blamed on the tea you just took a sip from and not Lin’s sympathetic look. “But what do you wanna do?”

“Me? I am majoring in history, so I guess teaching? I’m not sure, I still have a year to decide.” You placed your mug next to you before getting your hair in a messy ponytail. “The future I’m- I’m scared of it.”

“Me too.” He took a long sip before letting out a sight. “I just feel a bit stuck, I mean, in college I had this whole thing with the theater program, I directed a few plays and even started writing my own musical,” you raised your eyebrow and he nodded, the disbelief in himself making you laugh. “I know, and now I am just surrounded by papers and badly written essays and a huge ass question mark of where my next step is supposed to be.”

“Don’t you like being a teacher?”

“I like teaching, the kids are great but… This was never the plan. Broadway was the plan, Hollywood was the plan.”

“So stick to it,” you replied with a shrug.

“Easy to say, not that easy to do.”

“Lin… We just met. There’s no reason for you to listen to me, but-” you lifted your finger, making him hold his reply. “You look like a cool dude. You don’t leave the toilet seat up, you don’t make a mess in the living room, all that and the fact that you gave me the bigger bedroom make me believe you are a good person, and we need more good people in the world right now. You’ll find your way to the spotlight.”

“Wow, that’s… A better first impression than I’ve imagined,” he smiled.

“It was well deserved,” you replied, taking a sip of your green tea.

After almost a whole kettle of hot water and a conversation that moved from the kitchen to the living room, the sun was coming up, its light entering the living room window from between the metal bars of the firescape. You were glad it was a Saturday night, because the both of you fell asleep on the couch, empty mugs lying on the floor and the duvet you grabbed from Lin’s bed between three and four in the morning covering the both of you.

Carefully, you got up without waking him, collecting the dishes from the floor, placing them on the kitchen sink as quietly as possible and heading to your bedroom, but not before taking a look at your new roommate asleep on the couch.

You didn’t have an explanation on why or how you knew, but he entered your life to stay.

30th day as roommates

“You did not just do that… LIN!” You voice echoed through the small apartment as you turned to the bedroom doors, a confused Lin popping out of his room. “Did you eat my chocolate cake?”

“Maybe?” His voice displayed a fake smile and puppy eyes, but you fell for that way too many times in the past month for it to happen again. That was chocolate cake, it was personal.

“C’mon, seriously? I just had the worst day and-”

“Hey, how about we go to Carlos’ and I buy you a new slice of cake and… A cappuccino?”

“Extra cream?” You stated, getting a nod in return. “Fine.”

“Okay, lemme just grab my shoes.” He disappeared inside his bedroom before coming back with his worn out converses on.

Carlos’ was a small bakery you and Lin found only a week after moving in. In desperate need for a pastry, you asked the landlord for good spots to eat, and she said Carlos’ has the best pasteles in town.

Your landlord was right.

Serving not only cakes, not only coffee, but typical latino pasteles as well, Carlos was a chubby man with an even bigger heart, and by the fourth time you and Lin showed up at his place, he already knew your names without needing to ask.

“Carlos!” Lin’s voice was excited and the man turned with a huge grin on his face before giving Lin a handshake over the counter. “Please tell me you still have that marvelous chocolate cake [Y/N] bought yesterday.”

“Let me guess, he ate the whole thing by himself?”

“I can’t leave him home with my pastries, like, ever.” You bumped shoulders with Lin, who rolled his eyes while Carlos observed the whole scene in delight. “Please tell me you still have it!”

“I don’t, sorry chica,” you playfully slapped Lin, that pouted at you as he held back a laugh. “I do have that meringue cake with strawberries...”

“Oh my god, yes!” The taste of the heaven-sent cake was still one of the best sensations you had in the past months, and your overreacted response to the mention of it made the both guys laugh.

As you and Lin occupied the table by the window, waiting for Carlos to bring the order, you fell into a comfortable silence.

At least for you. Apparently, Lin didn’t find it that comfortable.

“Hey uh, so you came home late last night…” His smile was sympathetic, but the emotion didn’t get to his eyes. Instead, they were a mix or worry and if you didn’t know him any better, jealousy.

“I�� Did.” The reply came with widened eyes from your part.

“How was it?”

“Honestly, not bad.” You shrugged. “He paid for the movie ticket and gave me a popcorn.”

“Good movie?”

“Not really, no. Good popcorn though, very buttery.”

“Do you think you’ll see him again?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions, Lin.” You joked right before Carlos showed up, bringing the slice of cake and two coffees and disappearing as fast as he appeared. You thanked him with a smile before turning to your roommate again.

“Sorry. Curiosity I guess, I mean you didn’t even mentioned you were seeing anyone and all of a sudden you ditched Mario Kart night and didn’t even tell me about it and of course I don’t mind but-”

“Oh shit…. I completely forgot, I am so sorry.” Your jaw dropped as you noticed how inconsiderate you were towards Lin.

In the beginning, the both of you only had each other as close friends, but it didn’t take long for you to make friends in the store, complaints about customers and hours bonded you and the other employees; the same happening with Lin at Hunter, where he was working as a substitute teacher. You had a theory liking Lin was inevitable, and nothing had proved you wrong in the past 30 days.

“It’s okay, really, don’t worry, I just graded a few papers instead and it really gave me like, a chance to-”

“Lin, you’re rambling,” you commented, grabbing a bite of your cake.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“But tell me, why the sudden curiosity for my dating life?” You asked simply, catching Lin completely by surprised as he took a sip of his coffee and almost making him spit it.

“Your dating life? No, of course not,” you noticed the redness taking over his cheeks as you ate one of the sliced strawberries in your cake. “It’s just a way to make conversation.”

“Oh, alright.” You faked a smile while using your fork to swirl the meringue on your plate, the cake all of a sudden not looking as appetizing as before.

“But… I was just wondering if you still are, you know… ”

“Available?” You joked, trying to disguise your disappointment.

“I was going to say single but available also works.”

You almost choked on the meringue cake, taking in a few seconds and a sip of your cappuccino before you were able to let out a ‘mhmm’ accompanied by an excited nod, that made Lin’s eyes light up.

“Great! I mean not great, if you don’t want to be single but great because I was thinking about, maybe if you have a day off, I know you don’t work on Fridays and-”

“Lin… ”

“Alright!” He laughed, taking a deep breath before looking you in the eye, hope all over his features. “Do you wanna watch a movie on Friday night? Maybe, you know, come to my place?”

“Well, your place is my place...”

“Exactly my point,” he agreed, the smile on his face growing bigger by the second.

“You bring the movie and I bring the candy.”

“No popcorn?”

“Nah, it’s overrated.”

300th day as roommates

“Shhh, no, come back here.” Lin’s arms tightened around your waist as he pulled you back into his embrace, not letting you leave.

“Lin I have to go to work, my shift is in an hour,” you whined, but the warmth of his breath against the back of your neck made you stop trying to get out of the bed. As his lips touched your skin you felt shivers going down your spine. But the good kind.

The best kind.

“Five more minutes?” His voice is just a whisper, and you turn to face him with a smile.

“Just five minutes.” You agree, cupping Lin’s face with both hands before placing a kiss on his lips.

“You know, I’ve been thinking-”

“This is a dangerous thing,” he rolled his eyes at your joke before continuing.

“Let me finish, I was thinking that this would be the perfect time to ask you to move in with me.”

“Well, it’s kinda late for that, I mean...” You laughed, making a motion to the apartment you shared. “But maybe we can have our own version of that?”

“And that is?”

“You can move to my bedroom.” You suggested, his soft lips stretched into a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Lin started, his lips almost like a ghost against your skin, “that we should turn my bedroom into an office.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, considering my shelves are full and so are yours.”

“Right? And we can take the piano out of the living room as well.”

“What? No!” You pouted, making him laugh.

“No? For real?”

“Yeah, I love it now.” You buried your face on the crook of Lin’s neck, taking in his smell of coffee and shaving cream, remembering the smell of the duvet from the first night you spent awake talking, the nights after that one which grew into a friendship, that turned into dating only a few weeks later. You could almost listen to the notes echoing in the apartment, melodies still unfinished that played while you were diving into history books. The memories from almost a year that were already worth a lifetime. “I love listening to you play.”

“I love you, have I told you that recently?”

“I love you too, and I think at least three times this morning,” you smiled as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

Lin’s bed as sold only a few days later and his bedroom turned into an office. Two years later it was repainted: the desk and shelves were substituted by a small white crib and a rocking armchair, among other things necessary in a baby’s bedroom. The room was Estela’s now.

When you decided to move out of the apartment, your daughter had just turned one year old, you guys still had the first duvet you shared, and the couch was going to stay for the next person to build new memories around it.

As you handed the keys to your landlord for the last time, with Estela in your arms and Lin by your side, you noticed the instincts were right: he came to your life to stay.

#lin manuel miranda imagine #lin manuel x reader #lmm x reader #lmm imagine #hamilcast x reader #hamilcast imagine #my writing

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writerspink · 6 years ago

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K-12 Words

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prepared journey trade delicate arrived track cotton hoe furnish exciting view grasp level branches privilege limit wrong enable ability various moreover spoil starve dollars digest advice sense accuse pretty wasn’t industry adopt loyal suggested blow treasure cook adjective doesn’t wings tools crops loud smell frail wisdom fit expect ahead lifted deed device weight gradual respect interesting arrange particular compound examine cable climate division individual talent fatal entire advantage opponent wouldn’t elements column custom enjoy grace theory suitable wife shoes determine allow marsh workers difficult repeated thrill position born distant revive magnificent shop sir army struggled deal plural rich rhythm rely poem company string locate church mystify elegant led actual responsible japanese huge fun meat observe swim office chart avoid factories block called experience win crumple brilliant located pole bought conditions sister details primary survey truck recall disease radio rate scatter decay signal approach launch hair age amount scale pounds although per broken moment tiny possible gold milk quiet natural lot stone act build middle speed count consonant someone sail rolled bear wonder smiled angle fraction Africa killed melody bottom trip hole poor let’s fight surprise French died beat exactly remain fingers clever coast explore imitate pierce rare symbol triumph ancient cling disturb expose perform remote timid bashful brief compete consider delightful honor reflex remark brink chill conquer fortunate fury intend pattern vibrant wit

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capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

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evade debate dedicate budge available miniature petrify pasture banquet pedestrian solitary decline reassure nonchalant exhibit realistic exert abuse dictate minor monarch concept character strategy soar beverage tropical withdraw challenge kin navigate purchase reliable mischief solo combine vivid aroma spurt illuminate narrator retain excavate avalanche preserve suspend accomplish exasperate obsolete occasion myth reign sparse gorge intense revert antagonist talon aggressive alternate retire cautiously blizzard require endanger luxurious senseless portable sever compensate companion visual immense slither guardian compassion escalate detect protagonist oasis altitude assume seldom courteous absurd edible identical pardon approximate taunt achievement homonym hearty convert wilderness industrious sluggish thrifty deprive independent bland confident anxious astound numerous resemble route access jubilation saunter hazy impressive document moral crave gigantic bungle prefix summit overthrow perish visible translate comply intercept feeble exult compose negative suffocate frigid synonym appeal dominate deplete abundant economy desperate diligent commend boycott jovial onset burden fixture objective siege barrier conceive formal inquire penalize picturesque predator privilege slumber advantage ambition defiant fearsome imply merit negotiate purify revoke wretched absorb amateur channel elegant grace inspect lame tiresome tranquil boast eloquent glisten ideal infectious invest locate ripple sufficient uproar

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apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

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exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

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stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

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feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

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install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

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warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

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monstersandmaw · 7 years ago

Text

Male haunted armour x reader - Part Two (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This began as a request from an anon who wasn’t able to do a ko-fi commission for a 10-sentence drabble, and @diner stepped kindly in and ended up donating enough to my ko-fi that I simply made it a part two instead of counting the requisite number of sentences... Thank you!!

Gender neutral reader and nsfw! Hope you folks like it!! Ruben needs his own story now, asap!

Part One (sfw)

___

That first extra night at Aubrey and Ruben’s castle turned seamlessly into a week.

Long after you’d finished the conservation job, you remained there, and, true to his word, Aubrey showed you every secret the old stones had to share. The treasury was, obviously, stunning. It didn’t take a genius to work out why Ruben’s grasping, vampire mother had wanted to get her claws into her new husband’s breathtaking wealth, but Aubrey didn’t show it off; he merely showed you. There were enamelled goblets and glittering gemstones, huge silver chargers and tiny Tudor miniature portraits. He jokingly placed an elegant, diamond tiara on your head, and bowed chivalrously to you, heedless of your protests that you were hardly the sort of person who suited a tiara. He even found you an exquisite miniature portrait of his father done in the style of the court at the time, and you immediately noted the similarities between his facial features and in the portrait you’d seen of Aubrey upstairs. There was one of Ruben, too, as a young boy of about thirteen, and you had to smile somewhat sadly. He looked so happy and innocent, his face soft and laughing. That had been before all the tragedy.

As you traced your finger around the elaborate, gold rim of the miniature, Aubrey brought his hand to your chin and tilted it upright. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed, tearing your gaze from the happy little face of the dark haired boy. “I just wish there was someone for Ruben, that’s all. He seems so sad all the time.”

“That’s just his face,” Aubrey tried to joke, but it fell flat. “I should get him out of the castle more - he’s hardly likely to have my luck and actually have someone come along to the castle and sweep him off his sabatons, is he?”

You had to smirk at that, and handed him back the portrait so he could return it to the glass-fronted safe cupboard.

The days began to blend into one another after that second night. The weather was still wintry and foul, and Ruben and Aubrey took it upon themselves to teach you chess one evening. You were hopeless, as you’d promised them you would be, so you and Aubrey ended up playing together against Ruben, who was, predictably, scarily good.

You spent more time chatting to them than concentrating on moves, but Aubrey seemed to be able to multi-task. “I always lose to Ruben anyway,” he laughed when you wondered aloud if you could ask him something else, “So it makes no difference if it’s by a whisker or a mile… Ask away…”

You laughed, and the ghost dog, Brice, shifted his head sleepily in your lap. Ruben kept eyeing the way your hand played through his fur, but he didn’t offer to share his thoughts.

“So, what do you two do when you’re not giving up on teaching a rookie chess?” you asked as Aubrey made his move and sat back, leaning on his hands. He was sitting on the drawing room floor on that hearth rug again, while Ruben took a seat on the crimson sofa. The height of Aubrey’s armour meant that he could see the board easily from the ground, and you sat cross-legged beside him, enjoying the glow of the fire up your back and listening to the brothers’ friendly bickering.

“I…” Aubrey brought the leathery underside of his gloves up to rub a point on his helmet right about where his temples would have been. “I kind of… Uh…”

Ruben rolled his eyes. “He’s an online celebrity,” he chuckled. “Also, checkmate.”

Aubrey tipped his head back and laughed softly.

“Wait, you’re what now?” you asked. “Would I have heard of you? And how did I not know this?”

Aubrey let out a nervous little laugh and shot his brother a look, despite having no discernible facial features with which to create such a look. Ruben only laughed and leaned back on the sofa with his arms crossed over his slim chest, a smug and very brotherly look on his face.

“Aubrey?” you prompted, nudging him in the ‘ribs’ of his breastplate.

He clanked softly and then looked down at you. “It’s nothing weird or anything,” he mumbled. “I just have an online comic or two that I draw,” he said shyly. “I’ve got a few followers and subscribers…”

“How many?” Ruben added, and you got the distinct impression that he was deliberately trying to embarrass his older brother, though it was clearly nothing spiteful. He was obviously very proud of him, and it was good to see little laughter lines at the corner of the vampire’s eyes for once.

“A lot,” Aubrey said flatly. “Enough to pay this castle’s heating bills in the winter,” he added.

You were amazed. “I… I’d never thought you…” you faltered, suddenly blushing.

It was Aubrey’s turn to laugh now. “What, you thought that because I’m a rusty old piece of armour, I don’t know what the internet is?”

“Rusty no longer, thank you very much,” you corrected playfully. “But, well… yeah…” you admitted, earning a smile from Ruben. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Aubrey sighed. “I’ve moved with the times and gone from traditional painting to digital. Ruben can’t even operate a television without help, but that’s because he’s a stubborn old vampire stereotype who sleeps in a coffin, but I enjoy it. It stops me going stir-crazy, you know?”

“I’d love to see your work,” you said, deftly avoiding touching on the subject of Ruben’s technological prowess, or utter lack thereof. “What’s the blog called?”

Before he could squirm out of it, Ruben butted in with, “It’s called ‘Chivalry’s Not Dead’.”

A massive grin split your face and you watched as Aubrey fell utterly still, his gaze locked on a spot on the far side of the room. This, you’d come to realise in the short time you’d known him, was his way of blushing and pretending things weren’t happening. “I love it,” you said, reaching for his arm and sliding your fingers around his wrist. It was warm and smooth, and as your touch connected, the whole suit of armour shivered, the rivets clanking softly.

With a sigh, he moved his head and looked back down at you. “I know it’s cringey, but it started out as a name I just used - for obvious reasons,” he added, holding up a gauntleted hand, “- and then somehow I got popular, and it just kind of stuck.”

Ruben stood elegantly and said, “Why don’t you two flick through some of Aubrey’s art? I’m… going to go to the library, I think. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Goodnight, Ruben,” you smiled, and he nodded politely at you as he left the room.

“Hang on a minute,” Aubrey hissed at you, rising in a clattering rush and heading out after his brother.

You caught the sounds of a muted conversation in the hallway outside, and while they were otherwise engaged, you took out your phone and began to search for his blog. It didn’t take you long to find it, and you were astonished at what you found. He had several comics ongoing, and apparently also did commissions for people. The tag line beneath what was obviously a selfie, though no one else would realise that, was ‘An old soul in a new age.’ And if that wasn’t appropriate, then you didn’t know what was.

His art was beautiful. He had obviously been classically trained, since his anatomy was perfect, but the line work and colours were more contemporary. The most popular storyline appeared to be centred around the adventures of a blacksmith’s apprentice and a dragon, though there were a number of others which attracted your attention.

You were so engrossed that you didn’t even hear him come back into the room and sink down on the sofa to watch you. “What do you think?” he eventually asked, making you jump almost out of your skin.

“Aubrey, you’re so talented! This is incredible!”

“Oh gosh,” he laughed, scratching the back of his helmet. “I’m not sure about that, but I’ve had a lot of time to practise, I suppose. I’m glad you like them.”

“Do you have a favourite?” you asked, hopping up onto the sofa beside him.

He chuckled and said, “I don’t have my special touch-sensitive gloves with me down here - they’re up in my studio. You’ll have to find it. It’s a story about a little fairy who meets a goblin in the woods when she gets lost, and the two of them have an adventure together. Search for ‘Gossamer’ and you should find it.”

You spent the next two hours looking through his artwork. He insisted that you at least get comfortable on the sofa beside him, and while you curled up and lay your head in his lap, resting your cheek on a cushion that he moved there to give you something a little softer than the bare metal of his tassets, you scrolled happily through all his works on the blog. He also had a website where followers could pay a subscription and have exclusive access to all sorts of things, but you never even got close to getting round to that - the sheer volume of stuff on his blog had kept you utterly absorbed.

All the while you surfed through his artwork, he stroked your hair and made little comments about the stories or the characters, filling you in on details as and when you asked for them but otherwise keeping pretty quiet.

Eventually though, he said it was getting late, and asked if you wanted to head up to bed. The fire had burned low, Brice was still flaked out in front of it, fast asleep and dreaming contentedly, and you realised you were in that mellow place where sleep or something else could easily claim you.

You reached a palm up to cup the curve of his helmet, and smiled at him. “Yeah, I guess so.” You waggled the phone in your hand and said again, “You’re really talented, Aubrey…”

“Come on,” he scolded playfully. “Don’t make me carry you upstairs.”

“Could you?” you asked, surprised. “I mean… how strong is the armour?”

“Oh, it’s strong,” he laughed. “And definitely strong enough to pick you up and toss you over my shoulder.”

“You wouldn’t!” you yelped, but before you could even voice a proper protest, he had done just that. “Put me down!” you giggled, bent in half over his shoulder.

“Right,” he said, patting your backside affectionately. “Come on.”

He carried you all the way up to your bedroom like that, and about halfway there, you gave up and flopped disconsolately down like a limp rag doll.

When he set you carefully down onto your bed, he stepped back, appearing nervous. “Are you alright?” he asked tentatively. “I… I didn’t overstep any boundaries, did I? I didn’t hurt you?”

You laughed and flopped back onto the bed. “No, Aubrey,” you said. “You didn’t. I’m fine. I just wish…” you cut off with a sigh.

Immediately he sank onto the bed beside you and placed his gauntleted palm down on your thigh. “What?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

You raised your arms and placed them behind your head. “I never thought I’d say this to anyone, Aubrey, let alone someone like you, but… I’m really falling for you. Hard. And I’m starting to want a lot of the things that often go with feelings like these, if you follow me. But… well… I’m not exactly sure you’re… you know… in a position to be able to do any of them with me…”

He seemed surprised at that, and then he chuckled softly. “I… I have my ways,” he said. “Maybe they’re not… conventional, but if you want to explore some of them, I’m game. I like you,” he added shyly, “A lot… I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” was all you could get your brain to come up with in response.

“Do you remember when you un-stoppered the bottle which Ruben had stored my essence in all day?”

You nodded, recalling the way the thick mist had swirled around you, sending shivers down your spine, like the sensation of soft, silky fingers caressing your skin wherever it touched.

“Well,” he went on, “You already know that I don’t have to be bound to this armour. I mean, I can touch you when I’m like this if you like, but I can also…” He raised his hand and, as he had done once before, he let a small amount of his glowing, phosphorescent essence seep out. It curled into a little coiling tendril in his palm, and then he reached out for you. He lowered his hand slowly towards you, and the tendril of fog unfurled and began to stroke along your jaw.

You shuddered and let your eyes roll shut, enjoying the unusual feeling.

“Please,” you whispered. “Yes, please, I want this… however you want to do this… Show me.”

He hummed quietly and then stood, parking his armour on a chair in a corner of the room. You watched, fascinated, as pale mist rose from every seam and joint in the armour, coalescing into the form of a human in front of you. It shifted and shimmered, slipping and returning to something more nebulous. “I’m sorry,” a very quiet whisper uttered, coming from the very air around you, from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The scraping, ethereal sound of it sent goosebumps rippling across your skin. “I can’t hold a form for long.”

“I don’t need you to,” you breathed. “I just need you…”

He approached you as a glowing mist, growing denser and more opaque as he drew closer, and then he began to swirl around you from your ankles all the way up your body. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before: intense in a way you couldn’t define, and yet vague enough to set you tingling all over.

“Aubrey!” you gasped, and you heard him chuckle softly.

“Relax,” he said in a breathy murmur. “Let me make you feel good…”

You lay back then, and he formed a thick cloud above you. Wherever his essence touched you, it felt like summer morning sunlight on bare skin, warm and comforting but not searing. You’d always imagined a ghost would be cold, but he was anything but cold. Then, Aubrey surprised you by slipping between your clothes and your skin so that you wore him like a second skin. It was incredible - as though you’d sunk, fully clothed, into a hot bath. You gasped as his essence travelled like tender fingers down your body, towards an ever more intimate spot, and surrounded you where you were most sensitive. Your spine arched as he pressed and nudged against you, teasing you.

“Oh God, Aubrey!” you moaned as he pressed himself against you, moving somehow in the confined space in repeated, shuddering waves until you felt heat coiling inside you, that delicious racking up of tension. “Let me take my clothes off,” you begged as your temperature soared from the closeness of his essence and the heat of your own body. “Please…?”

He withdrew from where he was pressed up tightly against your whole body then, but not without teasing you one last time on his way past and making you gasp and shiver.

You undressed slowly, and the cloud hovering beside you on the bed seemed barely able to wait until you had ditched the last of your clothes on the floor before pouncing on you. He tried to make himself as tangible as possible, and every now and again you were able to grasp part of him in your fingers. Whenever you did, he would moan deliciously in your ear, and shudder.

A wetness on your thigh drew your gaze down your body, and you saw a pale liquid dripping onto your skin from the mist around you. “Aubrey?” you murmured curiously.

“Oh,” he smiled - you could hear the gesture in his voice, even if nothing but swirling pale fog filled your senses. “I… I can’t help it… It’s… ectoplasm… it happens when I get like this… get worked up…” He seemed to be finding it difficult to voice his thoughts, getting lost in the sensation of being wrapped around and pressed against your naked body. He slipped a tendril of his essence down between your legs, pushing them apart so that he could tease as much of you as possible. He rocked gently against you, and you felt more of the slick ectoplasm on your sensitive skin. “Can I?” he asked. “Please?”

You nodded, breathless with pleasure as he began to ease himself inside you. The rest of the formless mist still surrounded your lower body and lapped at your chest and stomach like waves on the shore. It was intense in a way you could never have imagined, and as he filled you slowly, gently, wonderfully, he toyed with you, driving you to ever more sensitive heights until you began to pant and gasp, back arching.

“Aubrey, I’m… I’m close!” you whimpered.

“Come… for me…” he whispered, the sound emanating from everywhere, vibrating in the air close to your ears. “I… I can’t… hold back… much longer…”

The lights began to flicker and the temperature dropped noticeably in the room, pebbling your nipples even more. A thin tendril of his essence lunged out for one and pinched it hard, sending you spiralling suddenly over the edge into a spasming rush of ecstasy at just the same moment that his ghostly form rippled and pulsed. All the lights went dark for a moment, and your breath misted in front of you, joining with his nebulous essence.

A few pounding heartbeats later, and the temperature rose once more, and the lights grew brighter.

Aubrey’s form slumped down on top of you for a moment, billowing and broiling and then falling silent. With a wheeze, he withdrew, sliding off the bed and floating over to where his armour sat empty and lifeless. As you looked down at your stomach, there was a large, clear hand print outlined in viscous ectoplasm, and the sight of it sent a fresh wash of emotion through you.

Your vision was still vague from the intensity of your release, but you watched as he snuck in through a chink in the left sabaton, and the armour gradually shuddered back to life, starting in that left foot and working its way up to his helmet. He rose and tottered a little unsteadily towards the bed, and came round to lie down beside you. The floral etchings on his chest glimmered and seemed to ripple and sway in the soft light of the room.

He rested his hand on your stomach, carefully avoiding the mess of ectoplasm he’d left behind up and down your body, and whispered, “Are you alight?”

You nodded wordlessly, knowing you had that utterly blissed-out expression on your face, and not caring one bit. You could still feel where he’d filled you, and it was wonderful. Eventually you opened your eyes again and gazed at him. “Aubrey, that was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever come like that…”

He let out a little laugh and lay back on the pillows. “It was intense for me too,” he said. “Next time, if you like, you can make a mess of this armour with me…”

“After I put all that effort into cleaning you off and conserving you?” you snorted.

He laughed, a rich, warm laugh, and started to draw the covers up over you. You stopped him, saying you wanted to clean off first, and that expensive metal armour was definitely not allowed in a steamy, humid bathroom. He’d have to wait out here.

Aubrey obediently nodded and watched you walk over to the en-suite bathroom with a sigh. When you emerged a little while later, he was still there, and it no longer seemed strange to see a moving suit of armour. You just saw him.

When you said so, he tugged you playfully into the bed and covered you with the thick, warm duvet. He snuggled down beside you, his metal body warm and comforting, despite its solid hardness. He wrapped himself around you and nuzzled your cheek with his helmet.

Perhaps an hour later, you stirred from sleep, a little too warm, and heard him murmuring to you, thinking you were still asleep. “I love you,” he said, his distinctive voice barely audible. “I know it’s barely been a week, but I love you.”

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back against him and he only hugged you tighter.

“Don’t leave,” he added suddenly in a hoarse, choked whisper. “Please, stay here with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Aubrey,” you said sleepily. “I promise.”

“Oh,” he chirped, surprised. “I didn’t know you were awake!”

“Barely… But I mean it.”

“Go back to sleep,” he said, stroking your hair. “And thank you.”

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Thank you for the ko-fi’s! I really appreciate your support!!

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Want a drabble all of your own? Buy me a ko-fi, and specify any monster/reader/(n)sfw combination, and it’s yours!! The monster doesn’t have to be one of my existing ones! One ko-fi buys you 10 sentences! (10-sentence drabbles tag - some nsfw in there too)

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#haunted armour #male haunted armour #male monster #gender neutral reader #ko-fi commission #ko-fi commissions #this is clearly not a 10 sentence drabble but i'm going to give it that tag anyway because that's what my ko-fi commission all have...#10 sentence drabbles #sorry #vampire #ghost #haunting #haunted armor #better stick the american english spelling in there too just in case :)#armour #armor

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