#so have lots of small lines and a fruity pitch

[sweeteastart]

Pitch Sketch dump ⌛

[nevervalentines]

“we can’t go back in time, so stop trying to reverse what you said.” for white rose

For white rose: 

#13  “we can’t go back in time, so stop trying to reverse what you said.”

#23  “well the probability of that is 0, but you go ahead.”

hi!! hope it’s ok that I did two-in-one. here’s a short fill featuring future white rose…………….my favorite kind of angst, and a LOT of gratuitous bumbleby

*******

She hasn’t seen her since the engagement party. Which, if anyone is asking, is perfectly fucking fine. It’s only been six months, and she’s been really busy anyway.

And the engagement party had been a disaster, as far as Weiss is concerned. But it’s not like Yang and Blake would have noticed if an entire Atlas fleet dropped an air raid on their doorstep.

The caterers had been late, and the florist delivered Easter lilies instead of calla lilies, which completely clashed with the color scheme, and Ruby somehow managed to stay a room away from her the entire time, gnawing on her bottom lip, sipping a virgin cocktail and hiding behind Yang every time Weiss got close.

But that was six months ago. And Ruby has been away on a contract for most of it. Or so Weiss has gathered from the sparse texts that hit the group chat every time Ruby allegedly gets service.

They’re living in the fucking digital era, how hard is it to locate a cell tower?

But this is the bachelorette party and, at the brides’ demands, she has nowhere to hide – and Weiss will be hiding hardly anything, for that matter.

“Why do I have to wear this?”

Blake says, “I like it,” at about the same time that Yang says, “It looks hot.”

They share an amused glance over the rim of their drinks, and Yang sidles across the room towards Weiss to pluck at the strap of her dress.

Lowcut and mostly sheer, the hemline only just brushes the tops of her thighs, the bodice dipping low, only a zipper and a prayer holding it in check.

“You said Blake could dress you.” Yang smiles. “You should have seen this coming.”

“What can I say?” Blake sinks deeper into the window seat under the hotel room’s enormous bay windows. “I’m a boob girl.”

The window panes are thrown open, a salty sea breeze ruffles her hair, and her ears flick, eyes squinting shut as she shifts deeper into the sunlight drenching the crushed velvet cushion.

With Yang butting into her space, still tugging slightly at the sheer straps of her dress, Weiss is unfortunately face to face with the proof.

“Apparently.” Frowning, Weiss tugs the top of the dress up, figuring if she adjusts the fabric enough, she’ll get some kind of coverage. “You guys do know you two aren’t technically supposed to spend your bachelorette party together, right? Isn’t that, like, a break from tradition?”

“Since when are we traditional?” Blake asks.

“And I’m not hiring strippers,” Weiss says.

“Who needs strippers?” Yang laughs. “We have you in that dress.”

Blake grins. She drains the last of her drink, and stares at the melting ice sullenly.

Yang moves to take it from her hand, swaps it with her own full glass in exchange for a kiss.

Weiss pauses from wrestling with her dress to watch them – the ease of it, the familiarity. Yang tucks her mouth against Blake’s cheek happily, lets herself be pulled down for a second longer kiss, nipping at Blake’s bottom lip.

Burying her face in one hand, Weiss reaches blindly for her drink, nearly knocking it to the ground in the process. “Okay, knock it off. I scheduled in plenty of time for that tonight.”

Blake pulls away curiously, one hand still wrapped around Yang’s bicep. “Did you block out time during our bachelorette for Yang and I to make out?”

“I just meant that there will be, you know, leisure time.” Weiss presses her flushed cheeks to the cool condensation on the glass, feels water bead on hot skin.

Grinning, Yang bounces to her feet. “Is there enough time for a quickie? Did you dictate exactly where and when I’m allowed to use tongue?”

If this wasn’t a five-star hotel, and if this wasn’t a crystal glass, and if this martini wasn’t hitting the spot right now, Weiss swears she would throw it at her.

“You asked me to help plan, okay? I was just doing my job as maid of honor.” She knows she sounds whiny, can feel the constricting, scratchy pitch in her throat, hates that everything is hitting so much harder right now. She feels on edge, trapped, anxiety that even a beach side resort can’t tame.

She can tell Yang hears it in her voice, watches her face soften, lips pursing in that signature look of concern. Eyebrows bunching, she beckons Weiss closer. Weiss complies, taking small steps with bare feet. Like this, her head barely comes up to Yang’s shoulder, and she has to tilt her head back to look at her.

“You know we’re just teasing,” Yang bullies her into a careful hug, arms around her back, dropping a kiss against the top of her head.

Beside them, still seated, Weiss can feel Blake’s hand reach out to touch her thigh, petting once, careful. “You did a killer job, Weiss.” Then, quieter. “You know, seeing her again, it’s going to be –”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Weiss’s voice is muffled against Yang’s collarbones, and she turns her cheek flat against the warm, freckled skin, inhaling the smell of post-workout sweat, of sunlight and the faint sharpness of her deodorant.

After so many years, it relaxes her more than it stifles, and she feels Yang’s arms tighten, a hand rubbing carefully at the tense knots in her spine.

“You look really good,” Yang says quietly. “And you planned an amazing party.” She shifts, and Weiss catches her reaching for Blake out of the corner of her eye. “And even if everything goes wrong tonight, tomorrow Blake is going to by my wife, so it’s like,” a shrug that ripples against Weiss, still wrapped in a tight hold, “everything is already perfect.”

“Yang,” Blake says, soft, careful. The single word has so much adoration it almost stings. She stands from the bench, wriggles closer until Yang folds her into the hug. Weiss works an arm free to wrap it around Blake’s waist, accepts the kiss dropped against her temple.

“You’re right,” she says, peeling away just enough to look up, to look at them looking at each other. “Everything is going to be fine.”

**

Everything is not fine.

They were supposed to leave the club thirty minutes ago. She had reserved a private cove along the beach for the wind-down portion of the night, had planned to have everything wrapped by midnight so Blake and Yang could get enough rest before the big day, or whatever.

It’s not exactly a night of tantalizing debauchery, but she figures they’ll have enough of those in their future.

Instead, she’s leaning up against a sticky bar top. The floor is tacky under her feet, and her heels keep getting stuck in the refuse of spilled drinks. She’s trying desperately to close the bar tab with Blake fully draped over her shoulders.

She’s practically dead weight at this point, and Weiss can feel the beginning rumblings of a purr while Blake rubs her cheek against Weiss’s shoulder.

“She’s just so funny,” Blake says. To her credit, she hardly slurs. “I mean – look at her.”

Under the pulsing lights of the dance floor, suspended in static-shocks of green-blue-red, Yang and Ilia are half-grinding, half-grappling. The intervals of flashing lights wash them in turn – open mouths, laughing, tosses of long hair, swaying hips.

Blake sighs, breath warm against Weiss’s ear. “And so hot.”

Weiss plucks her lien card from the bartender with a thanks, palms them a hefty tip, and sinks back into Blake’s embrace. Perched on a swiveling bar stool, Blake is holding her from behind, two arms around her shoulders, Weiss leaning back between her knees.

“She is certainly – something.” Weiss tries to wave them over. Yang waves back, enthusiastically, entirely missing the point. “Idiot.”

Spotting Blake, Yang pouts. Mouths something. Behind her, Weiss can feel Blake laugh.

“I’m going to go dance,” Blake says. She squirms off the bar stool, kneeing Weiss in the back in the process. “You want to come?”

“You know,” Weiss says, watches Yang light up as Blake takes half a step toward the dance floor, “I’m going to sit this one out. Wheel’s up in ten.”

Blake hardly hears her, already striding toward the strobing lights, a confident walk belying any inebriation, tossing her short, dark hair over her shoulders. She falls into the beat and sway of the music easily, Yang’s hands palming her hips, stooping to whisper something in her ear.

Weiss turns away. Decides, suddenly, she has to pee. If just because waiting in the snaking bathroom line will give her something to do.

The rest of the bachelorette party is scattered around the bar and, to no one’s surprise, Ruby is nowhere to be seen.

She had met them all at the hotel earlier – let Yang wrestle her into a headlock, and graced Blake with a long hug. She looked – good. Wearing a sleeveless blouse and short skirt, paired with combat boots, it felt distinctly her. But she had cut her hair again, a layered bob falling just under her chin, and a fresh, raised red scar puckered at her shoulder, black stitches visible in another on her thigh, just under her hemline – looking distinctly like an animal bite.

She had hugged Weiss hello, brief and glancing, but even that – the innate smell of her, the cording strength of her muscles – had made Weiss feel sick with guilt.

With a tightly packed itinerary – cocktails at the bar, dinner reservations at a swanky Vacuan hot spot, then a meandering stroll to the club where they are now – Ruby had been able to avoid her easily. Or Weiss avoided her. It was hard to tell.

There was a row of single-stall bathrooms, and the line moved at a crawl. Trapped between other clubgoers, the close-humid air of the bar was thick with sweat, the stink of fruity body spray and the heady sugar of watered-down mixed drinks.

Like this, penned in on either side, trapped between snatches of conversation, between the blurred movement of bodies, the music bobbing heads, tapping feet, she feels entirely distant from the people around her.

It’s like she’s suffocated under the weight of some unseen barrier, her on one side, everyone else on the other. Her drinks rush to her head now, warping sound, blurring her vision, slowing the world to fragments. Beside her a man’s mouth moves as he talks to a friend, she looks at his teeth. Thinks again of the mark on Ruby’s thigh.

She’s at the head of the line now, and is suddenly desperate to escape the dim light, the noise. She lurches for the door, finds it unlocked, hurries inside. The music mutes instantly, like she’s pressed her face underwater, only the tempo of the bass follows.

It’s only after she falls back against the inside of the door, face flushed, breathing hard, that she realizes she isn’t alone.

Of course.

It’s Ruby, mid-motion, drying her hands with a pulpy, brown paper towel. Eyes comically wide, her perfect rosebud mouth dropped open, she looks deer-caught, flighty. Her skin shines with sweat, likes she’s been dancing – which, Weiss knows she has, had watched her spinning Nora on the dance floor about three drinks ago – and her clothes are a little mussed, blouse half-untucked, skirt rucked high on her hips.

Weiss is staring. She’s caught, and she staring.

Ruby tosses the paper towel into the bin without looking, crosses her arms protectively over her chest.

“Hey, Weiss.”

“Hi.” Her own voice sounds embarrassingly quiet.

A beat. They both start and stop sentences at the same time.

Ruby says, “you look – ” as Weiss says, “I should – ” and both fragments strangle away to nothing.

Ruby steps closer. Tries again. “You look really good.” Her eyes flit down, fix on Weiss’s chest, and her cheeks flush. “Did Blake pick that out?”

Softly, “yeah.”

Ruby smiles then – genuine, toothy, at her most Yang when her dimples press deep into her cheeks – “I can tell.”

Breathing a laugh, Weiss presses an arm to her stomach. “She is getting married tomorrow, I thought I should let her have it, just this once.”

Ruby’s face softens further, and she rubs at the back of her neck, like she’s curbing a reflex to reach for her. Crowded between the sink and the commode, it isn’t the perfect place for a reunion. The air smells sharp, like cleaning chemicals, but not enough to mask the lingering scent of vomit. The walls are close and dark, gratified with sharpie scribbles and feathery layers of stickers and posters, corners curling up to reveal the patchwork of histories underneath.

Weiss thinks this is a huge mistake. Weiss thinks this is the best thing to happen all night. Thinks this is the most herself she has felt in months, standing a few feet away from Ruby – close enough she can make out the sleepless shadows her eyes, can see the freckle at the corner of her mouth, can feel the tension, the possibility, of a conversation between them.

“I missed you,” she says.

Instantly, Ruby’s face hardens. It’s unfamiliar on her round, graceful futures. Her lips turn down, and her muscles in her jaw pop. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I can’t miss you?”

“You broke up with me. So, no. You don’t get to miss me.”

Weiss wrings her hands, feels panic rise in her throat like nausea. “We were never together,” she says, voice climbing, knows immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

Worse than anger, Ruby looks sad now, too, eyes glassy with a dangerous cocktail of fury and tears.

“We were fucking for nine months. I don’t know what else you can call that.”

“It was casual – ”

“You told me you loved me. Does that feel casual to you?”

“I do love you,” Weiss says. The metal of the door is cold through her dress. She wonders at the line outside; wonders how much time they have before the others come looking. “I didn’t mean for things to end I just – I just needed some space.”

“We can’t go back in time, so stop trying to reverse what you said,” Ruby says, a harsh whisper. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Ruby lurches forward like she’s going to leave, and Weiss presses back against the doorknob, instinctively, effectively blocking her.

Ruby flinches away, surprise flashing across her face, and Weiss feels her stomach drop at her own action. It feels like the kind of thing her father would have done, her brother. To keep her in there, to keep her caged.  She steps away from the door, vodka messy and drowning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” She turns her back, presses her face into her hands. “You can go, I’m so sorry.”

There’s silence, then the hush of footsteps. She waits to hear the lock click, for Ruby to slip away, but she feels the press of Ruby behind her, instead.

Ruby brings her hands up to Weiss’s shoulders carefully, like she’s waiting for permission. Weiss leans back into the touch. Exhales slowly, rubs hard at her eyes. She can feel her makeup blurring, is embarrassed when the heel of her palm comes away wet.

She sniffles, chokes out a hollow laugh. “I can’t believe I’m crying in a bathroom at the club. I’m a lesbian cliché.”

“Hey,” Ruby’s voice is gentle. Her hands tighten, rubbing soothingly at her upper arms. “I also cried, so. It kind of cancels out, if you think about it.”

Weiss laughs again, real this time, feels the firm muscle of Ruby against her shoulder blades. The buttons of her shirt press hard into her skin, and despite the situation, it ignites a familiar kind of thrill. “You shouldn’t be nice to me. You should forget about it, go back to the party and let me just, like, cry myself sober in here.”

“Well, the probability of that is zero, but you go ahead,” Ruby says. She dips her head, hooks her chin, gentle, over Weiss’s shoulder. “I’ll have tissues when you’re done.”

“Are you mad at me?” Weiss says, small.

Ruby’s weight bullies into her, her hands drop to Weiss’s stomach, stroke gentle over the near-sheer fabric. “I’m so fucking mad at you.” Weiss’s breath catches. “But we aren’t going to solve anything tonight. And this weekend is about Blake and Yang, it’s not about us.”

Weiss turns in her arms. Ruby doesn’t move, just stands facing her, toe-to-toe. Weiss thinks she had forgotten what it felt like to be looked at.

She feels flushed and caught, the center of someone’s entire attention, the pressure of Ruby’s gaze more familiar than almost anything else on earth. They’ve spent nearly a decade watching each other, protecting each other, and when Ruby leans in, slants her mouth against hers, Weiss kisses back like it’s the first time she’s been seen in months.

Maybe it is.

It’s a careful kiss, chaste, brief. More habit than anything, a careful, telling comfort. Ruby pulls away, runs a thumb under Weiss’s eye, cleaning up running makeup, brushing her bangs out of her face.

“What now?” Weiss breaths. She turns her face into Ruby’s hand, presses a careful kiss to her palm.

Ruby’s eyes are steady and gray, clear, like she’s wide-awake.

“We leave the bathroom, we apologize to the poor people behind us in line, and we follow your ridiculous itinerary.” She pauses to laugh. “I mean God, it’s more detailed than most of my battle plans.”

Weiss laughs, too. Heaves a shaky breath. Takes a step back. She knows enough to give Ruby her space, knows the conversation is long from over. “And later we’ll talk?”

“Yeah, Weiss,” Ruby reaches for the door, unlocks it with her thumb, and starts to turns the knob, “later we’ll talk.”

Weiss follows her out, slipping back into the half-dark of the club, the damp roil of the crowd, the strobing lights. She knows that somewhere on the dance floor, Yang and Blake are waiting for them.

Snaking through the packed bar, trying not to trip on empty plastic cups or wayward, thrashing limbs, she almost misses it – Ruby reaching back, a hand held out for her to take.

[nightwingshero]

1 to 25 for Whitney xoxo

Wow, you really went for it, huh? Lol under the cut, my dear x

1. What’s their go to pick up line/flirting tactic?

Whitney is obvious as a flirt (when she can actually flirt), and it shows in her body language: hair flipping, touching your arm and giggling at anything funny you say, crossing her legs, puffing her chest out a bit, and leaning in close to you. She’s going to wait for you to make the first move, and you will because she will have you eating out of the palm of her hand. Jedi mind trick, because sure, you think picking her up is your choice...when that decision was made before she even started talking to you. 

2. Can they dance?

Nope, not really. While Whitney does work out (she’s not shy from doing physical activity), she hardly ever dances. She believes its silly and she would rather be saved from the embarrassment. 

3. Underwear style?

Silk and lace. Usually in the colors of light pink, white, or shades of gold. 

4. Crayons, markers, colored pencils, or paint?

All of them. Whitney went to school for art and she uses a lot of different mediums. Paint is her favorite, though, and she has a sun room she uses as a studio. 

5. What was their childhood stuffed animal of choice?

A fuzzy teddy bear her mother bought her not long before she died. It has a red ribbon/bow around it’s neck and sits in her armchair in her bedroom. 

6. What’s their sleeping positions?

Whitney doesn’t move around a lot in her sleep. Mostly it’s on her back, but sometimes she sleeps on her side. 

7. Do they snore?

Oh, hell no. Whitney wouldn’t tell you if she did, to be honest. Snoring is above her and ladies don’t do that. 

8. What do they act like when they’re drunk?

Ha! Look, I’m just gonna tell you now: Wren and Jane are the worst influence over her, I swear. Anyway! White girl wasted, I’m telling you. Mostly with tequila though. She’s the fruity drink kind and she’s a light weight...it doesn’t mix well for her. Now, if it’s wine or she’s only had a little to drink--she’s just a little more emotional. 

9. Sweet, sour, salty, or savory?

Sweet. She bakes a lot and loves it. She likes sour drinks, but that’s about it as far as that goes. Whitney has a complicated relationship with salty foods, she tries to eat healthy, so she doesn’t really eat a whole lot of salty things. 

10. Can they play an instrument? If so, which one(s)?

No, not really. She knows some basic piano, but not a whole lot, so she doesn’t really count it. She does sing though and helps with the choir. 

11. What would their favorite book be?

Little Women

12. What is their guilty pleasure?

Already answered! 

13. If they got a new pet, what would they name it?

Something super cute and adorable, like Pumpkin or some shit. She had a small white dog named Snow White once...she’s not original. 

14. Beach house, cozy snowy cabin, treehouse in a forest, or desert paradise?

Already answered!

15. What would their favorite board game be?

Life, Connect Four, Candy Land, and Trivial Pursuit (although Wren and Rowan kick her ass).

16. What do they smell like?

She’s gonna have more of a floral scent, mostly roses. She will also smell like whatever she decided to bake--apple or blueberry pie, sugar cookies, etc. Honey, vanilla, Viktor and Rolf Flowerbomb perfume, and Marc Jacobs Daisy perfume.

17. What’s their favorite smell?

Florals, mostly. Anything citrus and some woodsy scents--sandalwood, cedar, and pine (although you won’t catch her dead in the woods). She loves maple and pumpkin spice (she’s one of those), honey, and brown sugar. 

18. If they were drunk, what would they get a tattoo of?

God, Wren would fucking try...Whitney would get a butterfly tattoo, she so fucking would. And yes, probably in the form of a fucking tramp stamp, especially if Wren has anything to do with it. (Istg, Wren and Jane live to corrupt Whitney). If not, she would get it on her hip or get one of those badass under-the-boob tats. I could also see her getting something simple between her boobs--Wren would totally get one with her. 

19. Describe their laugh.

Bells, honestly. I know that sounds weird. But it’s not too different from Wren’s, but Wren’s is more...wholesome. If that makes sense? Like, Whitney has a higher note to it, but its a bit sharper, while Wren’s is a tad bit high-pitched, but more full. I don’t know if I’m explaining this right. 

20. Hoodies, knit sweaters, wool coats or just a blanket to stay warm?

Knit sweaters and blankets quilts. Whitney is warm and loves things like that. She’s very homey underneath the materialistic uptight front she has (mostly thanks to Nancy and some of Joseph). She’s genuinely loving and caring, not the condescending southern rot-your-teeth sweet she uses on her enemies or the Resistance. Whitney is very much “let me cook you a good meal, you’re skin and bones, and have some hot chocolate with 30 blankets--we can watch Hallmark movies together. Or Nicholas Sparks. Do you like Nicholas Sparks?”. She will definitely be a knit sweater kinda girl. 

21. Are they good with their hands? How do they deal with household-type maintenance?

She’s useless, maintenance wise. Good with her hands? With gardening (the only acceptable time to be dirty) and painting, yes. Baking? Absolutely. Fixing things? Hell no. Woman has no idea what she’s doing, she would probably die changing a light bulb. 

22. If they had a custom car horn, what would it be?

Heaven Is a Place on Earth or Pocketful of Sunshine. If Wren’s rigging it, it’s gonna be I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston or Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey....Killer Queen is also on the table.  

23. Favorite carnival attraction?

Cotton candy stand and the carousal. 

24. Showers or baths?

Baths, all day long. She’s a self-care queen, and will either do bubbles, bath bombs, or rose petals. There are candles involved most of the time with a glass of wine and something she can watch Netflix on. 

25. What’s their ideal day like?

A bright sunny day painting next to the pond in her backyard with music lightly playing in the background. Maybe with some friends over for company. If it’s raining, she’s gonna be in the sun room painting or enjoying a classic movie--like Titanic or something. 

[zulkaif-riaz-blog]

All you need to know about FL Studio app

Info:

Full name

FL Studio

Publisher

Image-line

Genre

Entertainment, music

Operating System

Android

Official website

Image-line.com

What’s new?

Its transport panel is now available with MIDI input.

There was a bug in the previous version due to which we weren't able to record stereo sound. This bug is now fixed in the latest version.

Many other bugs are also fixed.

A number of new tracks and beats are added, many of them are paid.

About FL Studio Mobile app

FL Studio is a digital audio workstation software and multi-track producing mobile application developed by "Image-Line". FL Studio is available for android, IOS, Windows, and macOS operating systems. The word FL stands for ‘Fruity Loops’ and till 2003 it was known as "Fruity Loops Studio". That's why we see a mango-like fruit in its logo. This software was initially launched for windows and macOS computers but with an increase in the number of users, fl studio's mobile phone supporting versions were also launched till 2013. These apps are available on the apple app store (IOS devices) and google play store (Android devices).

Fl studio is one of the best audio editing and music creating apps available on the play store. FL Studio provides a GUI (Graphic User Interface) where users can perform several audio and music editing-related functions including making, mixing, cutting, and recording just by dragging and dropping. However, FL Studio is a professional android app that is used in audio editing. FL Studio mobile app has more than 130 instruments (musical instruments), drums, and beats which can be used to covert your simple sound into a music track. You can simply say that you aren’t going to install any app, you are going to own a full-featured music studio for yourself where all possible musical instruments, tools, and plugins are available within a platform. These musical instruments are very easy to use like you will see piano buttons on your screens. You just have to touch your fingers on piano buttons to produce a piano music track. The same method applies in the case of drums, beats, and other instruments.

You don't even need to use only your mobile phone to use the fl studio mobile app, you can synthesize your project on other operating systems like Windows, macOS, and IOS, etc. This feature allows you to share your customizable file on social media and other networks. You can also use this feature to ask someone to customize your work. You can simply create music with teamwork. If you become an expert in fl studio mobile, you will be able to earn money by helping other music creators on social media and freelancing platforms.

Yes, I do believe that fl studio mobile won't attract you if you are looking to work the same as you did on the desktop version, it is hard and it won't even work 10% of that of Pc version but still, it is much better in performance if you compare fl studio mobile with other audio editing android apps available on google play store. That’s why fl studio is one of the most used music creating over the internet. Fl studio mobile may include in-app purchases of two instruments groove machine and transistor bass. There are many sample players available for an in-app purchase.

You aren't familiar with the fl studio mobile app? And don't even want to watch lengthy tutorials. You don't need to worry. Unlike many other apps, fl studio mobile uses an optimal interface which makes this app easy to understand. FL Studio has also created a forum where users can discuss, share, and ask questions and answers, this forum is much helpful. A large number of fl studio users are using this forum, so you can get a quick response from the community. Claim your account here https://forum.image-line.com/

There are several features available in FL Studio's latest version. A few of its main features are listed below.

Features of FL Studio:

•FL Studio mobile supports many musical instruments. You can use these musical instruments to create music lyrics for your audio file. You can also play with musical tools like piano, drums, and much more.

•You can add synthesizer, drum, and beats easily. As discussed in the above point, this app can do almost everything we do in a real music studio.

•You can record audio and can easily export it in WAV, ACC, and MP3 formats. You can also record your audio first and edit it later instead of performing both things at the same time.

• Several audio effects are available which can make your audio perfect. You can simply select and customize them. These effects include auto ducks, chorus, reverb, flanger, phaser, delays, and much more.

•Audio compressor can be used to compress the whole or selected part of a recording. Here compressing means the compression of audio volume.

•GUI (graphic user interface) of this will provide you the best interface. As this app has the best user interface, you will be able to understand its use in no time

•You can also do collision programming with reliable sequencing using the fl studio mobile app.

•A graphical waveform editor available in this app can be used to edit sound wave professionally. Even a small issue in the track can be detected and is solved by this feature available in fl studio mobile app.

•Professional pitch changing, tempo changing, and speed changing options will make your audio different from the original one. However, these options can be found in many other apps.

• FL Studio provides a synchronization feature where you can edit your project on other operating systems such as android, iOS and windows etc. You can share your projects with other.

•Last as well as least feature i am going to discuss is its feature of “noise reduction”. FL Studio app can reduce background noise and unwanted sounds easily. Mostly on use of mobile mice or mice with low quality, we hear unwanted sounds in the background that we can remove by using this feature.

FL Studio mobile apk download

As i have already mentioned above that fl studio mobile is a paid tool and everybody can’t afford it and want to download this app free of costs. Another issue is that you don’t know whether this app is useful for you or not? Like that of fl studio’s desktop version which you can even use before payment by claiming its free trial. However free trial is’nt available in case of android app, that’s why many people prefer downloading it for free instead of paying to its publisher through play store. Here we are providing FL Studio mobile apk cracked to download for free with obb file. This apk file won’t harm your device. You can easily download fl studio apk latest version and obb file for free from here.

Before downloading fl studio mobile apk, you should know that it against the publisher's terms to download this app from a third party. However, this apk file is safe and is virus-free. You just need to click on the download option given below, and have to wait till apk file is downloading. When downloading completed, you just need to click on apk file (normally you can find this file in the Downloads folder) having .apk extension. And you will see an option to install or cancel, click on the install option to install this app. You will also find obb file here. First of all you need to extract/unzip that compressed folder (zip folder). Copy ‘folder with obb file’ and paste this folder in given pathway: Storage > Android> OBB> paste file here*. Now launch this app and enjoy. Didn’t understood? A simple method for installing Fl studio mobile apk is given below. Just follow this method to install fl studio mobile apk mod for free

·        Download all the files we have provided below and open “Downloads” folder in file manager.

·        Now you need to install the APK file. Read method of installation given in above paragraph.

·        Copy OBB file from here available in a folder named “com.imageline.FLM” and paste in the following directory: Storage / Android / OBB.

·        Above folder should be located in this directory;-

Android > OBB > com.imageline.FLM > main.302043.com.imageline.FLM.obb

All done! Now you can launch the application. I recommend you to visit this site regularly so that you don't miss any update of this app. Whenever image-line updated their app, the updated version will be uploaded to this site in no time. In this case, you don't need to uninstall the previously installed app as you w'll loose your data and files. You just need to downloaded the updated one and update your app by same method which you applied while installing apk file. If found error, then you must uninstall previously installed app and have to install newer version to enjoy fl studio mobile with a lot of new features and clean from bugs.

Users Reviews about FL Studio Mobile

Fl studio mobile has good rating that’s why i am here to share fl studio mobile apk full with you. I am going to mention a few pros and cons of this app.

PROS:

vIt allows creating multi track music.

Can export in many formats like ACC, wav, mp3 and other MIDI formats.

Can use a number of music instruments.

It has best graphic user interface.

It is easy to use.

CONS:

vIt is hard to use on devices having RAM and Storage less than it is required to run this app.

Sometimes it stops working due to bugs that are not fixed yet.

Some of the musical instruments are paid, and are available in-app purchase.

Its performance is not too good to compare it with Pc software.

You can’t use this on devices with Android 3.0 or less.

FL Studio is one of the most recommended apps as most expertise has experienced fl studio on desktop, IOS and macOS which are more reliable than apk. But actual thing is that you have an app with almost all features that any high level professional app should have. You don't need to find beats from somewhere. You don't even need to collect different instruments and to use all of them by mixing it one by one. It is a tiring work. You just need to sit at a place to create multi track music and to edit audio files. How simple this is?

But there are many things in this app which user don’t like. One of them is availability of premium tracks and beats whom you need to buy before using them. It is a multi operating system app and you may experience windows, IOS and macOS better than android. So many users prefer to use fl studio on mac or pc for better experience. This application also has age restrictions, the recommended age for using this app 3+ years. Their latest version has been installed on more than one lac devices till now. On a five point ratings scale, fl studio mobile is available with 4.2 out of 5 star ratings and a number of positive reviews on google app store. In short, fl studio mobile is providing all musical solutions, best user interface, high performance and much more on your mobile phone. Although this is paid (we have also solved this problem) but you can’t find such features for free. If you are music creator then i suggest you to give a try to this awesome app by downloading and installing from this site for totally free.

Have a query? Feel free to ask.

[iximaz]

Blood-Forged ch4

Summary: Din takes his young charge to a new planet with a new plan to hide. It quickly goes sideways after he meets another Mandalorian who has never seen her own kind.

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Baby Yoda, enby!fem!OC

Pairings: Slow burn Din Djarin/OC because it turns out I’m a thirsty hoe

Warnings: Eh, right now it’s just in light PG-13 territory. Mentions of family death, some blood/violence/bodily harm. Will probably end up becoming smut later.

Word Count: 2333 (indefinite chapter count coming)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (you’re here!) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Aysa’s apartment was small, but cozy. They had walked into what looked like the main room, a combined kitchen and living space stuffed full of squashy, mismatched, secondhand furniture. A door to a bedroom that had to be Aysa’s judging by the green-painted walls stood ajar at one end, while two doors that led to what Din could only assume were a bathroom and the building proper were shut tight. 

“You guys can take the bedroom,” Aysa said, pulling off her helmet and setting it on the dining table. “I imagine it’d be easier for you to sleep without your helmet.”

Din looked around and nodded. “Thank you. Though if the little one could sleep in here…?”

“Huh,” Aysa said, raising her eyebrows. “Even people who won’t remember your face can’t see it?”

Din shook his head. 

“Alright, then,” Aysa said. “I’ll keep an eye on him. He doesn’t cry or anything, does he?”

“Not often.”

“Good,” Aysa said. “Because I like being able to sleep.”

Almost on cue, Baby began to make little whimpering noises. Din swooped down in an instant, picking him up and bouncing him gently. “Got any broth?”

“Think so. Stock okay?”

Din nodded, and Aysa stripped off her gloves, going to the kitchen and pulling out a pot from the icebox. She put it on the stove to heat before glancing at Din. “What about you? No foods that your Way won’t let you eat or anything?”

Din shook his head, and Aysa turned on the oven before going back to the icebox. “Afraid I’ve only got leftovers,” she said, sliding a meat pie into the oven. 

“That’ll be fine,” Din said. He hovered by the table, studying Aysa’s helmet without touching it. 

Aysa glanced behind her. “You can pick it up if you like,” she said, though there was a faint hint of trepidation in her voice.

Din picked it up, treating it with the respect it deserved. “You’re very fortunate,” he said.

Aysa glanced up at him. “Hm?”

“Your mother’s beskar,” Din said. “I don’t know if the practice was the same in your clan, but in mine, it’s traditional for armor to be passed down between family members.”

“It was the same in mine,” Aysa said. She smiled a little ruefully. “Nobody to reforge my mom’s armor, though, so it stays like it is.”

“When we find my clan again, I’ll ask the armorer to reforge it for you, if you like,” Din offered. “I think she would be honored to do it.”

Aysa’s eyes stung with tears, and she nodded, hastily turning away so Din wouldn’t see her struggling not to cry.

He noticed, of course. He noticed lots of things, after all, but it was kinder to pretend he hadn’t. He turned the helmet over in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. “Did it belong to anyone before her?” he asked.

Aysa shrugged. “I dunno,” she said, focusing too hard on stirring the stock pot. “Never really asked before it… happened.”

Din nodded. He inspected the interior, nodding in satisfaction when he saw the internal wiring was compatible. It looked much newer than the rest of the helmet, and he wondered if Aysa had done the work herself. The soldering work looked clumsy, which made him think so.

Still—not bad for someone without training.

“When the soldiers attacked,” Aysa began. She cleared her throat and swallowed back the growing lump. “Well—Mom took a blaster bolt meant for me. She shielded me with her own body, but it missed her armor.”

Din inspected the half a scorch mark on the bottom of Aysa’s back plate. So his suspicions had been correct.

“I had to play dead under her body when they ran past us,” Aysa said. She shivered. “We were separated from my dad. I never did find out what happened to him.”

Din set the helmet down abruptly, and Aysa startled, looking around at him.

“I lost my own parents in an Imperial raid,” Din said at long last. “They hid me in a bunker. I never saw them again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Din shook his head. “Don’t waste your breath apologizing for things that weren’t your fault,” he said. 

Aysa bit her lip, but nodded. 

“The Mandalorians saved me after that,” he continued. “They took me in as a Foundling—but they didn’t do the same for you.” He left his words to trail upwards, the barest hint of a question. He’d leave it up to her if she wanted to share.

“Scavengers,” Aysa said. “They helped me get the armor off Mom, packed it in a bag for me. Dropped me off at the next planet over with a couple of credits and the bag and nothing else.”

Din frowned, his shoulders tensing. “You were a child.”

Aysa nodded, not turning around. “The rest of the people who took me in, one after another—some were kind. Some weren’t. Doesn’t matter—I survived, and I managed to keep ahold of the armor, and that’s what does.”

Din studied her for a moment. He was hardly the type to go around dishing out compliments, and he wasn’t about to start now. All he said instead was “That’s good.” He tapped the helmet in an obvious change of topic. “If you’d like, I can wire your helmet’s coms up so we can keep in contact.”

Aysa glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I’d like that.” She stooped to pull out the meat pie and dished some of it into a bowl; she looked around and grabbed a cutting board, putting the bowl, a fork, a napkin, and a glass of fruity cider on the makeshift tray. “Here,” she said, carrying it over to Din.

He took the tray, then glanced over at Baby, who was sniffing curiously at Aysa’s curtains. “I should feed him first.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Aysa said. “I’m not the most maternal person, but I do know how to get a baby to eat.”

“But—“

Aysa nodded at the cutting board tray. “Your food will get cold. And you’ve gotta be starving,” she added, raising her eyebrows. “If it really makes you feel better, you can always snarf it.”

Din smiled, but gave no indication of it that she could see. “Thank you,” he said, and disappeared into her room.

Organized chaos was probably the best way to describe it. Din paused just after shutting the door behind him to take a look around; it was clear the clutter had a pattern to it. 

A row of alcohol bottles were lined up haphazardly on the windowsill, but their labels were all turned forward and they all had their matching lids or corks. The papers strewn on the desk were apparently sorted into teetering piles by category: bills, invoices, medical notes, bank information, insurance. 

Din tugged the curtains shut before he pulled his helmet off and set it on the floor, running his fingers through his tangled hair. It always felt good to smell that first breath of air that wasn’t filtered through his helmet.

Books were stacked in strategically precarious rows on an old shelf, some tomes crammed in sideways on top of other books. As Din ate, he cast a curious eye over the titles. Lots of planetary encyclopedia books, but a fair amount of novels, political analyses, books on economic theory, electronics wiring.

Sometimes he wished he had the space for a proper library on his ship, but books took up weight and space, both of which were valuable commodities on a ship. Besides, it was unnecessary when he could simply download all the books he could ever want to read straight to his datapad.

The meat pie was good, and hot enough to nearly burn his tongue as he quickly ate, then chased it down with a gulp of cider. 

Before he went back into the main room, he paused by the mirror to inspect his face. No new scars, but his hair and beard were starting to get scraggly. He’d need to trim them both soon.

Din grunted and put his helmet back on, retreating into the safety and anonymity it offered him. He picked up the tray and went back out, pausing and grinning when he saw Aysa sitting with the Womp-Rat at the table, coaxing him into eating one spoonful at a time.

“Here comes the TIE Fighter,” Aysa said, her voice noticeably higher-pitched and more sing-songy. “Open wide…”

The kid willingly opened his mouth for her to spoon in the broth, and he giggled and clapped his hands together after he’d swallowed.

Din was sure he hadn’t made any noise when he’d come in, but Aysa spoke without turning to look at him. “Food was alright?”

“It was. Thank you,” he said, setting the tray on the counter.

“Bet you don’t have many home-cooked meals on the ship,” Aysa said, and Din shook his head.

“It’s mostly ration bars,” he said. “There’s a galley, but it’s barely large enough to fit in even without my armor.”

“That does sound problematic,” Aysa said. “And you’re not a real big guy, either.”

Burg’s comment of “Tiny” came to mind, and Din rolled his eyes at the memory. “No,” he agreed neutrally.

“Hey, not saying that’s a bad thing,” Aysa said. “Means you need less beskar to be all armored up, for one. Right?”

Din grinned, knowing she’d be able to hear it in his voice. “I suppose.”

Aysa set the spoon down. “Are you smiling, Din?”

The sound of his name from unfamiliar lips was… strange. Not unpleasant, just unusual.

“I guess you’ll never know,” he said. “Go eat. I’ll finish here.” He pulled the bowl of broth towards him, beginning to coax the Womp-Rat into eating.

Aysa watched the pair for a moment, smiling. Her stomach growled, and she got up to help herself to a small serving of pie.

“So does Baby eat anything else yet, or just broth?” Aysa asked, sitting back down and digging into her food.

“Frogs,” Din replied, sounding slightly strained. “Preferably live.”

Aysa choked on her pie and began coughing. Without taking his eyes off the kid, Din reached over and thumped her squarely between the shoulders.

“Thanks,” Aysa gasped. “Frogs?”

“I’m trying to get him to stop,” Din said, reaching out to poke Baby on the nose. Baby scrunched his face up and leaned away, only to lean back when Din offered him another spoonful. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem to have killed him yet?” Aysa offered faintly.

“Yet,” Din muttered.

Aysa made a small noise of sympathy. She dumped her empty plate in the sink and headed back out to the speeder pad.

Din eyed the plate in the sink. She’d barely taken several mouthfuls of food. She wasn’t kidding about not eating well, but he wondered how much of that was by choice.

Aysa returned with the crates from the speeder bike and set them down just inside the door, beginning to unpack one of them. She glanced up at Din; he ignored her, so she figured she was okay to continue. With one crate empty, she disappeared briefly into her room, returning with a thick blanket that she used to line it. 

“Baby can sleep in here,” she said, and the kid’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice. “Settle him down whenever, but I’m tired.”

Din said nothing; Aysa shrugged and disappeared into her room, reemerging a few minutes later with a pillow and blanket under her arm. She was wearing nothing but a pair of thin sleeping trousers. Din glanced up and was suddenly quite glad she couldn’t see him staring.

He hadn’t been wrong: her chest really was boy-flat, distinctive white scars just under where her pectoral muscles curved. Surgical, unlike the other scars that lined her torso. Most of them were heavy burn scars like the one on her face, but a few on her arms and stomach where the armor didn’t cover looked like cuts or blaster hits. Not too dissimilar to his own.

She was lean and well-muscled as fit a mercenary, but thin enough he could count her ribs. He frowned. Muscled she might be, but there was no way that meant healthy. When she turned her back to him, his frown deepened. Parts of her spine—or maybe all of it—had been replaced, angry red skin growing up over the metal segments embedded in her back. It didn’t look like an old injury by any stretch of the imagination, especially judging by the twisting, ropy scar that stretched from shoulder to hip, cutting across her body.

He couldn’t imagine baring himself like that. It was the height of vulnerability, a complete lack of regard for one’s safety.

It was not the Way.

Not for him, he had to remind himself. For her, this must be normal. 

Or—and this thought drew him up short—she was acting like this because she trusted him. It made a certain amount of sense. He trusted her as well. Not fully—they had only just met—but there was a certain respect that went to fellow Mando’ade that would grow stronger with time. The differences between their clans were a footnote in that larger picture.

Aysa lay down on the lumpy sofa and rolled herself into her blanket until the only parts of her Din could see were her toes and the top of her head.

Baby whined at him insistently and he quickly refocused his attention on feeding the child. As soon as Baby let out a soft, contented belch, Din gathered him up and set him in the makeshift cot in the corner of the room. Baby looked like he wanted to hold on, but he yawned as he was set down, big eyes slowly closing before he’d been fully laid in the cot.

“G’night,” came Aysa’s muffled voice from the corner.

Din’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Good night.”

[ellocentipede]

Arcana Craves Strawberries Reviews!

Arcana Craves’ Strawberries Crave Collection has been a favorite of mine since its debut. The collection is currently available again on the Arcana Craves site (link at the bottom of this post). Arcana’s strawberry note works best for my skin chemistry of all of the perfume houses--it tends to be more on the realistic side and less plasticky than others that I have tried, although I know that strawberry is one of those notes that varies wildly. The four blends that I’m reviewing are my very favorites of the Strawberries Crave line (though there are a few others that are on my list to try!), and are truthfully up there among my favorites in my entire collection. <3 

Strawberries Crave Helios

Scent description: Strawberry jam with juicy blackberries, lemonade, limeade, and pure white amber.

In the bottle, this smells like the freshest, tartest, true lemonade with a liberal dousing of sugar. On skin it is the same! It’s a fresh-squeezed lemonade with a squeeze of lime and sticky sweet strawberry jam on the rim. This is a mouth-watering blend, and a must have in my collection as lemonade is one of my favorite things in life. It’s a great citrus scent--happy and uplifting. It retains its juicy tartness throughout wear and is an excellent blend for summer.

Strawberries Crave Lucy

Scent description: Arcana Wildcraft's Surfers on Acid blend (sweet coconut milk, pineapple, and absinthe) with pink strawberry.

The absinthe is in this blend nearly scared me off, but I’m glad that I tried it anyhow, because it’s one of my favorite scents. This is an excellent pina colada blend that has me dreaming of lounging on a warm beach in the summertime. The pineapple smells very realistic, and the coconut milk is sweet, creamy, and gentle--not overbearing. I don’t specifically smell the strawberry, but I think that it is pepping up the tart fruitiness of the pineapple. I smell a hint of something herbal and green, which must be the absinthe. It’s like a sprig of mint bobbing gently in the pina colada. 

Strawberries Crave Summer

Scent description: Tropical blossoms of tiare, tuberose petals, star jasmine, and neroli over melty pistachio and strawberry sherbets.

It’s no secret that I love a good tropical floral blend, and this is one of the prettiest ones out there! This blend is true to its beautifully written description--sweet, waxy tropical petals (realistic and dreamy, not screechy or high-pitched at all) float on a delicious pistachio sherbet with a hint of ripe, red strawberries. This is one of my very favorite blends that is perfect for any occasion--it’s a pretty and effortless floral scent, made unique with the addition of the pistachio and strawberry.

Strawberries Crave Waterfalls

Scent description: Rain, woodland strawberries, fresh water, petitgrain, osmanthus, clover, and smooth amber.

This blend is another stunner! Arcana’s legendary rain and water notes shine here--warm, fresh, beautiful, and atmospheric. The strawberries are of the small and flavorful variety. The petitgrain and clover add a touch of sharp greenness that enhances the atmospheric nature of this blend. It’s sweet and natural--like eating small, pink-red strawberries by a waterfall deep in the woods. So gorgeous.

Strawberries Crave Rococo

Scent description: Tiny strawberries with Madagascar vanilla, Tahitian vanilla, apricot, white musk, and skin musk.

Strawberries Crave Rococo is a pile of tiny, glossy pink strawberries on a fluffy vanilla cake in a dressing room in Versailles. The skin musk is glowing and clean, and with time fades into the background, leaving behind a glowing warmth. This is a wonderful blend that would be equally fitting at a fancy party or picnic outdoors. It's one of my favorites from this collection!

Strawberries Crave Vanilla

Scent description: Strawberries ripened on the vine, Tahitian vanilla bean, the warmth of the sun, and a hint of sugared patchouli.

Oh--this is a lovely ripened strawberry patch in the sun! Green, peppery, sun-warmed vines (I think the warm patchouli is giving the sunny aura!) and squishy, ripe, red strawberries! This is an expertly blended scent that conjures a distinct image of strawberry patch in the summer.

Strawberries Crave Nyx

Scent description: Drunken honey, lavender-laced mallow, soft amber, night musk, and hints of strawberry and nectarine.

This is lovely! Lovely, light honey marshmallows dotted with fragrant lavender buds, slices of firm nectarine, and just a weee fruity hint of strawberry. At first this actually reminds me a bit of Fille de Joie, but with more honey. This is soporific and soothing--I love it!

Strawberries Crave Indulgence

Scent description: French vanilla, white amber, sugared vanilla beans, caramel, lady finger cookies, opium, strawberry creme, and the faintest whiff of tobacco.

Om nom nom. This one smells like sweet caramels and strawberry liqueur on fluffy angel food cake! I think the tobacco (which is ultra light--like the smooth, sweet blond style) is giving the air of "liqueur" here. This truly is indulgent--sugary and rich and fancy! This has a Victorian gourmand feel.

Strawberries Crave Kink

Scent description: Worn leather, black coconut, black musk, skin musk, and wild strawberry.

Oh wow--I like this one a whole lot more than I thought I would! Smooth, soft leather, sweet honeyed coconut, and hints of pink strawberry make up this blend. I love Julia's coconut blends, and this one is a winner! It's a goth coconut delight. I can tell that there's some black musk here lending some dark moodiness, but it's not overwhelming and sharp (as it can usually be for me). Honestly, this is a surprisingly delightful blend, and fans of leather and coconut should give it a try!

Strawberries Crave Baby Goats

Scent description: A frisky, frolicsome mix of bright red raspberries and juicy pink strawberries is sprinkled with sparkling cane sugar crystals and drizzled in vanilla-infused rum. In the background, hints of sweet tuberose petals are entwined in an abundance of soft, musky goat fur.

Ripe, jammy strawberries and raspberries and sweet, tropical tuberose on a cuddly warm background of a gentle fur. It's like a happy day in the sun. With wear the snuggly fur becomes more prominent. I prefer this stage of wear because it's more soothing and snuggly.

Strawberries Crave Botanicus

Scent description: Fresh strawberry, guava, galbanum, basil, green hemp, bayberry, and ruby grapefruit.

In the bottle, I was nearly overwhelmed by the strong scent of basil, but on skin this is a botanical delight! The basil is green and peppery like sun-warmed vines, and blends beautifully with the grapefruit to create a fresh and zesty blend. With time, I get some jammy strawberry-guava, it's sweet and tart and pink and lovely. This is a gorgeous subtopical garden, and I would love to have it in beverage form!

Strawberries Crave Sunlit Paths

Scent description: The happy scent of day-hiking through the dappled sunlight of a coniferous thicket of trees. Sugary red strawberries with Arcana Wildcraft's Her Forest (layers of velvety forest mosses and soft green lichens with wild-harvested Northern fir tips, Bourbon vetiver, black oudh, and a hint of forest floor).

This scent is reviewed in the Daydream Collection post, but I'm including here as well! Her Forest (from the Deer Goddess collection) is a complex, beautiful, and realistic calming forest scent. Combining this scent with strawberry was a stroke of genius--they blend so incredibly harmoniously. This fragrance is much more than strawberry + Her Forest--it has become a magnificent fragrance of its own. This is a happier, more carefree version of the solemn and peaceful Her Forest. It truly does smell sunlit--like walking along a well-worn sun-dappled path in a beautiful old deciduous forest, fingers stained and juicy from perfect, ripe strawberries. Strawberries Crave Sunlit Paths is bottled happiness.

Arcana Craves’ beautiful perfumes may be perused and purchased at https://arcanacraves.com/

[ghafahey]

dear mother, how you’ve come so far.

The first one arrives just as she’s settled down on the patio with some fruity drink and the book she’s been trying to get through for weeks. When Lucian had asked with a small smile if she wanted to come along to Brazil with him for a week or two she had been hesitant at first, about the time and place and leaving her shop and most importantly coming along on a Shadowhunter mission. They had decided to rent a small beach house then because as much as times were changing, Maryse wasn’t quite comfortable with staying at an unfamiliar Institute and far from ready to deal with two weeks of stares and whispers. New York was only just coming around to her being present without any runes and she felt there was no need to push her luck. Besides, their own place allowed for privacy and tranquility a building full of soldiers could never provide and despite the humidity she had to admit she enjoyed the warm evenings when they would eat out on the terrace or go for a late swim in the blue sea.

Now Luke had left for a mission with a kiss goodbye and the instruction for her to just relax – which is cut short at the burning piece of paper flying towards her. Snatching the message from the air, she can feel her heart speeding up, already sitting upright to prepare for whatever bad news might be written – only to fall back into her chair with a soft sigh and a smile forming on her lips and her eyes watering just a little as she reads over the message. 

Hey Mom,  

Happy Mother’s Day! Izzy reminded me that’s a thing mundanes celebrate and I think we should too. I think you’re great and I hope you’re having fun in Brazil. Please post pictures on Instagram – Magnus said he made you one for the bookshop so I know you know how to use it!

Love you,

Max 

Carefully her fingers trace the familiar handwriting (a lot better now than even a year ago when Max had a phase of putting his pen between his teeth for writing which ended in something no one but Isabelle could decipher), spreading a warmth in her chest that has little to do with the sun already high in the sky. Of course, Shadowhunters know about Mundane traditions and she remembers there were a few years when they were younger, were Alec and Isabelle and later Jace would surprise her with a cake – barely edible – or a corny postcard. Then the older they had gotten the stricter she had to be and their relationship had grown colder with the demands she placed upon them. It’s a regret she tries not to let sink into her heart now for what’s done is done. She has spent the past year and a half trying to grow, to be better for her children and — if Max’s message is any indication — she’s doing well at it.

She gently places the piece of paper inside the pages of her book, leaning back to look at the waves crashing on the white sand and smiling to herself.

A few hours later Maryse is just about to pack up her book and find some relief from the heat inside the living room when her phone rings a familiar tune from inside. When she picks it up from where it has been lying face down on the table since they arrived four days ago her own reflection is staring back at her underneath Isabelle’s name flashing brightly. It takes a few moments for the connection to settle once she accepts the video call and then her screen clears to her daughter smiling from behind her desk. Head of the New York Institute – it still makes her dizzy with pride.

“Hey Mama,” Isabelle waves into the camera as she adjusts the angle and before Maryse can reply there’s a shuffle and then Jace is leaning in over his sister’s shoulder, smiling too. “Hey Mom!”

“Hello to you too,” Maryse can’t help the chuckle falling from her lips as she settles on the living room couch while still holding up her phone. “To what do I owe a call from both of you?”

Izzy inclines her head in a gesture all too familiar and Jace leans closer with a fond smile. “Just thought we’d check in on how you guys are doing,” he shrugs but his grin betrays this put-on nonchalance. Isabelle just shakes her head at him before focusing back on the camera. “And… happy Mother’s Day, Mama.”

Max had been a surprise, a warmth to her heart that had made this day special. Isabelle and Jace though, after everything she has said and done through the years, after only trying to be better a little over a year ago—

She can feel the tears stinging at her eyes, the soft gasp that falls from her lips as the only thing she can do is stare at two of her children smiling brightly without a shadow of doubt on their faces.

“We’re really proud of you,” Jace says and it sounds more genuine than anything she’s heard from him since Clary.

Maryse chuckles at that, quickly wiping at the corner of her right eye to hide her tears (even though there’s no use when she looks at four knowing eyes staring back at her). “That’s my line, you know.”

“Mom, you tell us all the time.” The now goes unspoken. “But you need to hear it too, sometimes.”

But I shouldn’t. She doesn’t say it out loud, only keeps her smile in place. There’s no use arguing and she knows she has a lot to make up for. Her children, brave and forgiving and loving as they are, have so easily looked past her mistakes and years of coldness. Sometimes she sees a glimmer of those old insecurities; shying away from her touch for a second, squaring their shoulders when telling her something and expecting to be reprimanded. It usually fades before she can reassure them or at the very least when she reaches out with comforting touches. Still, it’s a cold reminder of how much she has bruised them, how much weight she has put on their shoulders and every time she swears to make it better for the rest of their lives.

“Thank you.” It comes out more a whisper. As she blinks away tears she can see Jace putting an arm around Isabelle’s shoulders, their heads touching with soft smiles on both of their faces.

“So how is Brazil? I hope you’re getting a lot of rest because when you come back we could use you for a job… there’s been a code no one here seems to be able to crack and…” 

As they settle back into the usual talk of missions and demons Maryse can feel her shoulders relax under a weight she didn’t realize she was holding. It’s different from past talks, where it was her briefing them on missions and then hanging up with short words of good luck and sharp looks that spoke of how important it was they wouldn’t disappoint her. Now Isabelle is the one recounting demon activity and Jace throws in a joke or two at his sister’s expanse which earns him an elbow to the ribs and a laugh from Maryse.

It’s almost forty minutes later when they hang up with waves and goodbyes and see you soon and Isabelle blowing her a kiss. As the screen goes black Maryse knows she’ll fight with everything she has to keep those smiles on her children’s faces, to keep this fluttering happiness in her chest. 

 Lucian has just taken their drinks out to the patio with a kiss to her head while she puts the dirty plates into the dishwasher when her phone rings once more. Her brows only furrow for a moment before her heart leaps and no, this time her thoughts don’t immediately wander to worst-case scenarios. When she sees the name flashing on the display her lips curve into a smile all on their own accord.

“Alec, hey. Isn’t it really late over there?”

“Hey Mama.” He sounds tired but even through that she can hear the happiness, slow steps a background noise she can hardly make out.

“Is everything—”

“Just wanted to wish you a happy Mother’s day.”

Despite the two times she’s heard these congratulations today already, it still sucks the air from her lungs. Maybe because it’s Alec or maybe she will never get used to this love her children seem to easily give now.

“Oh.” She leans against the kitchen counter then, eyes trained on the doorway of the patio where she can see Lucian arranging the cushions on the loveseat. “Thank you.”

Alec lets out a low chuckle that makes her heart feel even warmer in her chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, things have been hectic and- You know, Alicante. But I just wanted to uhm…,” There’s a pause and she can hear him take a deep breath. “Just thank you. For everything. I love you.” 

She couldn’t hold the tears in now even if she tried.

She remembers three-year-old Alec, running to hug her and telling her he loves her any chance he got with arms stretched wide when she asked him how much. She remembers how once he grew older these words had come less and less and eventually stopped altogether. 

“I love you too, baby,” she whispers back now. Actions speak louder than words, she had told herself many times but a mother should never deny her children of telling them how wonderful they are, how proud they make her, how much they mean to her. Words aren’t enough to fix things and heal but they’re something she can offer while she learns and tries.

There’s a soft chuckle, something that almost sounds like a sniffle too on the other line. And then a few beats of comfortable silence until something in the background seems to distract Alec.

“Yes, it’s her, just… wait a second…”

She isn’t quite sure if it’s directed at her or someone else. Then the sound changes and there’s a second voice pitching in.

“Good evening, Maryse. Happy Mother’s Day!”

And that, oh, that tears at her heartstrings even more.

A fresh wave of tears spills down her cheeks but the good kind, the ones making you feel like your heart might burst out of your chest. If she has to make a lot of things right with her children, there’s so much more she has to make right with Magnus. And despite it all, he had let her hug him, had helped her and even asked her to walk him down the aisle to her eldest son.

“Thank you, Magnus.” It comes out a choked half-whisper but they seem to hear her nonetheless. She can almost see the soft smile Magnus and Alec exchange and despite the tears on her cheeks, suddenly she wishes they had video called too.

A few more moments pass before Magnus speaks up again, clearly trying to break the quiet and emotional mood. “So how is Brazil? Please tell me Luke and you also spent some time for yourselves and not just doing Clave work.”

Alec’s slightly affronted Hey gets swallowed by her chuckle. There are some sounds on the other line she can’t quite decipher, like hands sliding on clothes and a little scoff.

“Well, I am enjoying myself, I have to say. Even with the humidity.”

They all share a quiet laugh at that and Maryse relishes in the feeling of it; of her phone pressed to her ear, talking to two of her favorite people in the world in the dark of an unfamiliar kitchen while her heart feels filled to the brim with happiness.

“We were thinking once Luke gets called back to Alicante you should come with. See the new place.”

“We portalled the loft over to Alicante, Alexander. There’s hardly anything different about it.”

 “Still,” Alec insists. “How about dinner, just the four of us? There’s uh… some things we want to tell you.”

And that makes her straighten up, brows furrowing slightly as her mind races to what that could mean. Alec sounds sure and happy (now she can hardly recall a time when he hasn’t) but it still makes her worry slightly.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Better than okay,” Magnus interjects and she can hear the smile in his voice, a soft note she’s only ever heard him use around her son.

“Better than okay,” Alec agrees. 

“Well… I’m not sure I’m allowed in Idris, Alec,” she points out because as much as she wants to bask in the happiness and optimism in their voices it’s a realistic concern. An excommunicated Ex-Circle member turned mundane isn’t exactly a guest of honor in Idris, even with times changing.

“Anyone giving you shit for it can take it up with the High Warlock of Alicante and Inquisitor themselves,” Alec says sternly, leaving no room for discussion and it’s once more easy to see how he’s made it so far.

“I’m pretty sure they’re biased.” Still, she laughs as she says it, mind already made up.

“You’ll be staying with us and our apartment is out of the Clave’s jurisdiction anyway,” Magnus adds kindly. “And times are changing, Maryse.” 

Thinking of the both of them in their loft in Alicante, two of the most powerful men in Idris; of her daughter running an Institute of her own; of Downworlders and Shadowhunters working together; of her children, all calling or writing today despite everything… it’s clear as day.

“Yes,” she breathes out. “I suppose they are.” 

 Twenty minutes later she steps out onto the patio just as the sun is about to set above the water. Lucian looks up from his book, nursing a beer. The smile he sends her makes her face warm and her heart soar.

“Everything alright,” he asks as she sits down next to him, settling into his side and sighing softly as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Everything’s good,” she answers and she can’t believe how much she truly means it for once. 

[probably-not-star-lord]

Guardians of the Galaxy: Part 2 (Peter Quill x Reader)

Part 1

A/N: Here is the second part for my Guardians of the Galaxy series. I don't like the first part too much because Peter isn't in it, but at least it gives a little backstory on the reader.

Warnings: swearing, mild violence, fluff

-

26 YEARS LATER

MORAG 2014

You step out of your spaceship letting the breeze on the abandoned planet blow through you. Surrounding you are rocks and debris that appear to be populated by small, rodent-like creatures. How the hell are you supposed to find some fancy orb here?  You spin around trying to find clues. There's nothing intriguing. All of the rocks look misshapen, out of place, falling apart. The debris floats across the ground or rests on top of rock formations. The creatures lurk creepily, sending shivers down your spine. It's hopeless. There are no possible hints leading to your end goal. On the brink of giving up, you think back to your sister: Gamora. You managed to escape the wrath of Thanos almost two decades ago, but she didn't.

Not long after your departure from Thanos' ship, you became a petty thief, making a bit of money here and there, sometimes at the cost of others whose items you were swiping. But, amidst the fun you had, there were melancholy times of loneliness where you longed for your friends again. Shortly after being taken from Terra, you, Gamora, and Nebula grew inseparable. You were sisters. The sisters you chose to leave behind in order to escape, only helping yourself. Recently, you ran into Gamora, the now tough assassin who had every right to be mean to you after skipping town on her and Nebula. But, she always had a soft spot for you, randomly being abducted and only trying to get out of whatever Thanos had planned, so she forgave you.

Gamora told you about how she and Nebula turned against each other after you left, longing for you to return and bring the friendship back somehow. She talked about how Thanos had become more powerful and menacing as time went on, and she was planning on betraying him through Ronan. Ronan is one of the Kree people who is working with Thanos in order to bring equality to the universe. He needs the orb to gain strength, which is exactly what Gamora promised to bring him. Obviously, she is not going to follow through and she actually intends on selling it to a third party. This third party is willing to pay a copious amount of units, something you love. You could use a few units to fix up your ship and it feels amazing having Gamora back as a friend, so she let you assist her in her plan.

That's why you're on Morag, scoping a dusty, old planet and looking for some fruity orb. To make the search possible, you need your beloved walkman. You put in your headphones and strap the device to your pants. Upon pressing play, you instantly recognize the song. Letting the rhythm take you, you start wandering the planet on a hunt for the orb.

Peter Quill waltzes out of the Milano, walkman at his hip, per usual. He is looking for some kind of orb. The same orb you are currently searching for yourself. Yondu sent Peter to Morag in search of the orb, however, he is destined to retrieve it before Yondu and make a little bank for himself. Upon reaching a flat area, Peter retracts his mask and presses play on his walkman. "Come and Get Your Love" by Redbone starts playing and he instantly picks up with the melody. He dances and sings along, never missing a beat after hearing the song so many times. He kicks some rocks and creatures out of his way, enjoying himself as he continues to get closer to his destination.

Hearing a noise, Peter immediately comes to a halt. He can hear someone moving near him, but he also hears...music? He takes his headphones off and presses pause on the walkman. He still hears the faded notes to a legendary song. Not only does he know this song, but he loves this song. Turning around in circles, he sees the source of the noise. His mouth falls agape as he looks at you, dancing, completely oblivious to everything around you.

"If you like piña coladas,

and getting caught in the rain,"

You belt your heart out into the lyrics as the song plays on your walkman. You sway your hips to the beat, finding the rhythm and making a fool of yourself as you move to it. You've become immune to dancing and singing alone in the comfort of your own ship that the thought of another being witnessing you has never crossed your mind. The days alone on your ship are spent blaring one of your tapes at an unhealthy volume and following all of the songs you know so damn well. Although you couldn't dance to save your own life, you lack embarrassment and just look so confident doing it that it almost looks good. Does Peter find this cute? Hell yeah, he does.

"If you're not into yoga,

if you have half a brain,"

You continue to sing as you head in the same direction as Peter, who is still in shock at this lovely woman in front of him. A Terran? With a walkman? That likes the same music he does? That's the dream! You are absolutely breathtaking to him. He finds himself infatuated by your awful dancing and off-pitch singing. Snapping out of his gaze, he returns to his casanova demeanor and upturns the corners of his mouth into a smirk as he saunters over to you.

"If you like making love at midnight,

in the dunes of the-"

Your singing is cut off by a man who stands in front of you, holding the earbuds he just took out of your ears in the middle of your jam session. Your face heats up slightly at the fact you were just dancing like no one was watching because you really did believe that no one was watching. You slowly lift your head up to meet the man's eyes. He wears a confident smirk and a smoldering gaze as he leans against the rock pile next to him. He eyes you up and down, not ashamed to check you out. It's flattering.

"What's funny is that I do, in fact, like piña coladas and gettin’ caught in the rain," he says, continuing to let his eyes linger on your body.

Trying to act annoyed, you roll your eyes at him, but you can't help stifling a quaint laugh at the cheesy line he just fed you. "Good one," you retort, crossing your arms and stepping past him towards a flight of stairs.

"Don't you like makin’ love at midnight?" he calls out after you. You quietly giggle, again. Why is his goofy charm working on you? Hopefully, he didn't hear you laugh. He follows you up the stairs as you open the large doors, revealing a dark cave. On a podium, sits a glowing ball, which you naturally assume is the orb.

You walk over to it and the man grabs your wrist. "And just what in the hell do you think you're doin'?" he questions you, slightly pulling you back from the orb.

"Probably retrieving this strange ball that appears to have the importance of Luke Skywalker's lightsaber or something," you huff. Peter's eyes widen at your reference to Star Wars, something nobody else in the galaxy would know but him. You raise an eyebrow at his silence and dropped jaw. "So, you know, I'm doing exactly what I came here for."

He chuckles at your words, a sincere laugh, and you can't help but smile. "Sounds like something I would say about this stupid thing," he says. You shrug, still impressed you made him laugh. Peter follows the outline of your figure with eyes again, followed by genuine eye contact. "You're from Terra."

"Wow, Sherlock, I'm impressed." The words spit out of your mouth sarcastically, but only with good intentions. "How else would I know about Star Wars?"

"You make a valid point."

You shake your head and lean towards the orb again. "I know. Can I get back to my job now?"

"No!" Peter yanks you back from the orb. "You're all wrong about retrieving it, darlin', it makes me think you're a terrible theif. You can't just grab shit like this. Here, allow me to demonstrate." With a cocky wriggle of his eyebrows, he pulls something out of his bag and lays it down on the ground. The orb slowly gravitates toward it and sure enough, it works. He picks up the orb and tosses it up in the air playfully.

You try your hardest to not act impressed. "Rad," you mutter. "Thanks a lot."

He gently places the orb in your hands and flashes you a bright grin. "You're very welcome. The name's Peter, by the way, Peter Quill, but people call me Star-Lord."

"Well, Star-Lord, I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N, and people don't call me by a silly, code name."

Peter shifts uncomfortably and rolls his eyes at you. "It's an outlaw name," he mumbles.

Suddenly, the doors are thrown open and several Kree men flood in. The leader, Korath, is followed by his henchmen that fill the room, surrounding you and Peter.

"Drop it!" Korath commands. The henchmen grab you and Peter, and you instinctively place the orb down on the ground.

"Hey! Relax. It's not a problem."

Peter backs you up. "Yeah, no problem at all."

Korath picks up the orb and inspects it. "How do you know about this?"

"I don't even know what that is. I'm just a junker, man. We were just...just checking stuff out," Thankfully, Peter talks first, so you don't have to come up with some lie to get out of this situation. Not that he did any better with the talking.

"You don't look like a junker. You're wearing Ravager garb!" Korath shouts as his henchmen begin to prod you and Peter with their guns.

"This is just an outfit, man," he states as one of the henchmen pushes you harshly closer to Peter. "Ninja Turtle, you better stop pokin' her." You grin at his words, making sure to hold back your laughter given your current state.

"What is your name?" Korath asks, turning to you.

"Y/N L/N."

"And you?" he gestures to Peter.

"My name is Peter Quill, okay? Dude, chill out."

"Move!" he shouts.

You raise your eyebrows in confusion. "Why?"

"Ronan may have questions for you." Shit, you do not need to see Ronan right now, or ever.

Peter puts a stop to their movement. "Hey, you know what? There's another name you might know me by," he says, smirking yet again. "Star-Lord"

Korath curls his face up in confusion. "Who?"

Peter sighs deeply. "Star-Lord, man. Legendary outlaw." He turns to the henchmen. "Guys?" The men say nothing and on Korath's command, they usher you and Peter towards the door again.

"Oh, fuck this," you state, throwing a nod to Peter who nods right back, ready for action. You kick the man who was holding you back and take his gun from him. You use it to hit him on the head as well as shoot the few men next to him, knocking them out. You quickly dash for the door but feel like you can't leave without Peter. You take a look behind you. He activates his mask and shoots at the remaining henchmen. He tries to pick up the orb, struggling with Korath. Finally, Korath goes down and falls unconscious after another shot from Peter's gun. You're surprised at what a good team you the two of you make.

Switching on his rocket boots, Peter flies past you, grabbing you by the waist and scooping you up to fly with him. Only in the air for a few moments, you take this time to actually check him out. His mask is covering his face but you already know he is handsome with those mossy, green eyes and arrogant smirk. He has dirty, blonde hair that isn't super messy but dismantled enough to make it attractive. He has a tall build and you can feel his muscular arms press against you as you both land back on the ground.

Damn, you have the hots for a man who calls himself Star-Lord.

Part Three: Here

[sunshinechii-scenarios]

Semi-Sweet III

Uhhhhh...This story still exists LOL. I’m sorry if anyone was reading this and hasn’t gotten an update since May! It’s highkey a rushed ending and I lost all motivation for it TT. Story page here for the previous parts and the baking terms! Also check out our masterlist that’s always updating! 

✿ Seventeen’s Mingyu  x Gender Neutral Reader ✿ Fluff  ✿ 3.8k words ✿ Not Requested ✿ Written by Chii ✿

Last time on Semi-Sweet

“I’m sorry.” She looked down and wiped her wet cheeks with the napkin you gave her earlier.

“It’s fine but I have an idea.” You said as you put the mason jars on the table.

“That is?” She looked more confused than upset with herself.

“No time to waste! We’re wasting time right now!” You readied a few boxes of butter out of the fridge to warm up into room temperature.

“Yes, boss!” You two laughed, you grabbed Kyla the knife block and put it on the table before slamming down a flat pan and started to cover it over with parchment paper.

         “Kyla could you use butter knife to cut off the sides and then the use the cake leveler for the top and bottom?” 

“Alright!” She said before getting into business. You stood on a stool to reach for the round cookie cutters. Looking for one that would fit the top of the mason jar wasn't as hard as you expected, they were all organized by diameter. 

“Two and a half inch cookie cutter. Two and a half, ” you mumbled to yourself until you found the silver circle and grabbed it. You set it down on the counter as you went into one of the industrial fridges for the French buttercream frosting you made earlier in the day and set it next to the butter you bought out. Kyla came over to you telling you that the edges were off and the cake was leveled.

“That's great! Take some butter and put it on the cake.” You handed her the butter. She made a face, not really understanding why.

“It's dry,” you walked over to the sink to wash your hands before poking at a corner of the cake on the table and showed her how it crumbled much easier than a regular cake, “the butter adds the moisture backs in if it's still warm.” Kyla nodded and went to add a layer of butter over the cake while you got the last remaining things you needed. That butter trick was one thing you learned from Mingyu while working here.

         “So what's the plan?” Jun said as he came in and turned over to Kyla slathering the cake with butter.

“We make layered cake jars,” you said to Jun.

“Uh, no offense but we could always make a new sheet of cake.” He eyed the cake again.

“We don't always have to think like that. There's other ways to solve a problem and my way doesn't involve chucking a whole cake into the trash.” You crossed your arms and unconsciously stood in a defense stance.

“Alright, alright. You’re getting all mouthy with me. What should I do?” He said. You smiled and walked him over to the counter.

“This is the French buttercream I made earlier, taste it.” You held out a small spoon for him. Jun looked at you suspiciously before taking the spoon and testing it.

“Tastes like buttercream,” he said, not thinking much about it. It was creamy and smooth, probably smoother than Mingyu’s if he had to argue.

“Right, it's boring. I was thinking about adding flavoring and garnishes to create different combinations of flavors,” you said as you bought out eight glass bowls and began to divide them.

“I planned on doing strawberry lemonade, peanut butter cup, salted caramel apple and, coconut and pineapple,” you said as you listed down the flavors on your fingers.

“Do we even have all that stuff?” Kyla said as she washed off the knife before drying it and putting it back.

“Yes, actually.” You clapped loudly and started ordering Jun around to mix flavors into the buttercream. You took over the cake and asked Kyla to cut up lemons and green apples, shred some chocolate shavings and to toast some coconut shavings in the oven.

         As time passed you three were layering vanilla cake, flavored buttercream, vanilla cake, flavored buttercream and a finishing of fresh whipped cream and the garnishes. Jun decided to color the frosting to make the dessert more appealing to the eye. Pink frosting with a wedge of lemon that was coated in sugar, chocolate garnishes on the already light brown peanut butter frosting, large salt chunks on the caramel lined frosting and thin apple roses that Kyla learned from Joshua and last but not least toasted coconut on the fruity buttercream. The sheet cake made only around 7 of each flavor combination but they looked amazing and you didn't know if your brain could take anymore.

“Bring them out Jun, I think my brain is fried,” you pleaded to Jun, he nodded and pat your back before taking the tray of layered cakes jars to the front. You immediately heard gasps and people adding them to their orders, RoA eventually called Eunwoo over to help her bring the cakes out onto the trays.

“What happened here?” Mingyu and Joshua stepped into the room and saw your tired figure hunched over on one of the counters. Kyla went to explain to them. You wanted to stop her but felt no strength to do so. Seungkwan came into the kitchen with three cups of coffee on a silver tray.

“Special delivery for Jun, Kyla and of course the mastermind!”

“Thanks.” You let your red splotched fingers hold onto the handle and drank the liquid.

         Fast forward a few weeks of sugar burns, powdered sugar all over your black chef pants and a lot of good times. You made by the first month of work and only wanted to seriously hurt Mingyu a few times, ‘what an achievement!’ you thought. You and RoA were hanging out by the front while it was almost closing time and no customers came in.

“Is he always like this?” You said quietly to her, afraid of Mingyu’s scary good hearing. You thought back to when Kyla would whisper something to you and he would hear from across the room.

“Moody and acting like two people? Yea, he always does. It’s hard to deal with his bad side but it doesn’t last for long. His ‘mean’ wall is easier to break than a sheet of sugar.” RoA laughed a bit.

         Mingyu had been noticeably nicer as time went by. His walls melted down like chocolate once it was around the middle of your second of work. He would still shoot you glares every now and then but sometimes he would offer you a taste of his new creation. You were beginning to think he didn’t know his own feelings towards you as his co-worker. You turned back to RoA, remembering your plans you made tonight with Jeonghan.

“Want to come over to celebrate the fact that Mingyu doesn’t have my head on a stick? I'm having some celebratory drinks and food,” you sand the last line in a high pitch in attempts of drawing out an acceptance to your offer.

“I’d love to but I have an essay due tomorrow, it hurts to get your masters degree in business.” RoA hugged you goodbye. She stopped wearing her scarf since it was a bit warmer had on only a wool cardigan over her white button down. Kyla and Eunwoo weren’t here since left before you two due to their shifts ending earlier. 

“Did I hear celebrations?” Mingyu threw his arms around your shoulders. You saw him in casual wear and figured he finished cleaning up the kitchen. RoA’s eyebrow raised at this action, her mind started to run with questions but didn’t want to say anything. 

“You,” you shrugged off his arm, “have selective hearing.” You smacked his cheek lightly. RoA flinched and was ready to plan your funeral but she didn’t need to.

“Do not,” he sneered at you and huffed. RoA rolled her eyes at his childish manner.

“I asked you for the whisk and you ignored me, my caramel almost burned!” You jabbed at his side as your brows furrowed. 

“That's because I don't like you and stop that,” he stuck out his tongue like a little kid and poked a finger in between your brows, “you’ll get wrinkles early.”

“I can’t tell if you two look like siblings or elementary school lovers,” she sighed at the two of you. The two of you wanted to refute but her bus came to the stop and she made a run for it. 

“Good night guys!” She screamed as she ran out, fishing inside her bag for her bus card. Mingyu got his weight off of you and stuck his hands into his pockets.

“So, can I come over for food or what?” He asked as hip bumped you. You heard the rattling of the cafe closing. Mingyu thanked Seungkwan and he wished you two to get home safe. He waved and walked across the street were there was little snow left to be melted away and the grass was green finally after months of cold and harsh treatment.

“When did we get so close?” You said as he turned back to you.

“When you did something right for once,” he said as he kicked the last bit of snow away from the sidewalk.

“Oh yea? What was that and what do you mean for once! I do my work right all the time you giant!” You walked up to him and stared at his face that was a good few inches away from the top of your head. He turned his attention to you and have you the serious face you hadn’t seen in a while.

“When you were able to man the kitchen alone.” A wave of emotions came through you. Sure you’ve gotten compliments from other chefs before but this one wasn't even a compliment. It felt genuine and something out of what you thought Mingyu would ever say to you. You turned away from him to raise your head to avoid your teary eyes from becoming something more like a waterfall. You nodded to him and told him that he was officially invited to come over. Mingyu was happy to be invited, he wanted to see you outside of the bakery. He wanted to see if it was possible for you to act the way you did around the others for him.

         You two made no small talk. Just a quiet walk to his car where he drove you two. His radio was on a current hits station but you didn't feel right singing along. Although, Mingyu did and belted out some off tone notes to break the ice. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him.

“You should have been an idol instead.”

“Are you saying baking isn't my forte?” You looked over at his profile that was focused on the road but made out the raised eyebrow on his face.

“I think baking is exactly what you were made for thank you very much.” Mingyu laughed and thanked you. You felt like you might have said a little too much for comfort.

          When you two finally got to your place, you waited for Mingyu to park while you went to call Jeonghan to come over. You stood outside the lobby, your breath coming up as puffs in the chilly night. The neighbors started to gossip around you, you never came home with a man unless it was Jeonghan. Mingyu finished parking and you waved over to him. He saw your figure in front of the bright lobby of your apartment building and lightly jogged over. The two of you went into the elevator and just your luck a few people had came back from work as well. The elevator wasn't cramped but you and Mingyu were a little too close for comfort. A few people had to push their way through to get off at their respective floors. Mingyu offered to switch places with you so you stood by the wall and he took the impact of people shoving each other. You and Mingyu easily got off at the 5th floor when there was only 4 people left in the elevator. You led him down the hall and found your dark door with golden numbers that read 117. You fished your keys out to unlock the door. Before you opened it, you turned to Mingyu.

“My apartment is kind of small, just letting you know now,” you said as you opened the door and kicked off your shoes before placing them on the rack next to the door. You felt the rough mat you kept in front of your door to avoid outside dirt from coming in. Mingyu did the same and stood aside as you closed the door. He took off his pea coat and hung it on the coat rack. He took into account of your two seater gray loveseat that rested on a fluffy white rug. A single throw pillow was lazily resting against the armrest and a blanket was thrown across the sofa. You kept your walls white and left the dark wood planks alone. He saw your neatly kept kitchen that offered almost no counter space and a gray Kitchenaid stand mixer to match the loveseat.

“Take a seat on the couch, I have someone else coming. I can offer you tea, coffee or if you want to get started on drinking early I have some wine coolers,” you said with your head halfway into your fridge.

“I'll take some water, that's alright.” Mingyu’s words caused you to grab a bottle of water and throw it at him. He caught it but not before

“What,” you said as you harshly popped the cap of your wine cooler harshly against your counter, “scared?”

“I'm not a big fan of how alcohol makes me after a few bottles,” he said. You chuckled before pulling out some take out menus and turning to choose one. The doorbell rang and you asked Mingyu to get it.

“Hey, I got food already and who is this?” You hear Jeonghan's voice as he stood by the door.

“I wish you would have told me you already got us something to eat,” you practically sigh out as you let him into the room. You formally introduced Jeonghan to Mingyu and they hit it off. They talked endlessly about anything and everything, mainly about food. Jeonghan had convinced him to try this fusion hungarian restaurant not far out of town. The night played out with Jeonghan doing most of the talking while you dug into the food and drinks. Music was being played so you bobbed your head to the beats and ate, making a mess.

Mingyu caught you out of the corner of his eye on your phone with a messy face, he laughed before he said something, “you look like a child.”

You rolled your eyes at his words before coming back at him, “you act like one.”

Jeonghan got up and opened your freezer for dramatic effect before saying, “do you want some ice for that?”

“I’ll take some, there's a bunch in the freezer anyway right? Likes overly iced drinks.” You stared at him while you wiped your mouth area.

“How do you know that of all people?” You said with your brows furrows, you don't ever recall having anything but hot coffee around him.

“I told him,” Jeonghan said as he sat down on your couch.

“He actually told me a lot about you.” Mingyu motioned over to Jeonghan who gave you a guilty smile. Mingyu sat next to Jeonghan.

“When did you two get so chummy?” You asked as wiped your mouth.

“He talks about food, I work with food. It’s perfect.” Jeonghan slinged an arm around Mingyu.

“Alright well perfect couple, it’s getting late.” Mingyu and Jeonghan threw protests at your sudden celebration ending.

          Come Monday night and you were ready to leave with the Eunwoo, Kyla didn't work on Mondays and RoA left earlier. Eunwoo filled her name in on the work schedule board for a 4pm shift. You didn’t have the pleasure of choosing your hours yet so you where on a fixed schedule of 5am-9pm on Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays.

“Y/N,” you turned to see Mingyu still in the kitchen and not changed out of his work clothes, “you’re staying behind.”

“Am I getting overtime?” You learned to be snarky with him as you got more comfortable. He would get flustered and not know how to answer back but he’s been getting better at it.

“No, but if you'll want to learn you'll stay.” You audibly sigh at him and walk back to the employee locker room.

“Get home safe Eunwoo.” She nodded and walked out of the bakery, the bells ringing sounded the empty bakery.

“Lets get started then,” you say to Mingyu, “what’s the dessert today?”

“Souffle.” You heard a tone of playfulness in his voice. Souffle was the one thing you were nervous about making. Mingyu saw the expression on your face and smiled widely, “it’ll be great!”

          Around half an hour later and you were finally able to start mixing the ingredients. Mingyu gave an overly long and unnecessary lecture on the importance of leveling ingredients and separating dry and wet ingredients.

          He looked at you maneuver your wrist and arms to fold the dry ingredients into the wet. He instantly recognized the technique you were using. This brought back memories he didn’t want to remember. Memories of his ex. Mingyu wasn't one to dwell on the past but easily got upset when he would notice the last bit of their existence in his apartment. He remembered how in love he was, how they always made him happy, how they trusted each other. You noticed Mingyu was dozing off. You quickly dropped the rubber spatula into the bowl and waved a hand in front of his face.

“You’re over flooding your cookies.” You said. He looked down at the cookie. His thinned out royal icing went over the border he made earlier.

“Where did you learn that?” Mingyu asked.

“My cousin taught me.” You smiled and thought back to your cousin, she had introduced you into the world of pastries and had taught you a few tips and tricks. Mingyu put two and two together and boom. You’re the cousin of the girl who broke his heart. Threw it to the ground like a sheet of melted sugar, leaving it shattered.

“I have to go,” Mingyu grabbed his coat and bolted out the door. Leaving you with souffle batter in a bowl and a preheated oven. You decided to continue working without him.

Your buttered the ramekins, poured in the batter and put them into the oven. You left the oven light on while you picked up your phone.

You called your cousin while you watched the oven, hoping that she was awake in her timezone. Luckily, she picked up.

“Hey, do you know a Mingyu?” You asked her. She responded with a quick yes but hung up right after. She texted you, apologizing.

C/N: I'm sorry ma petite (F)/mon petite (M).

Y/N: It's alright, tell me about Mingyu. Why is he so angry at you.

C/N: How do you even know him?

Y/N: I work for him now.

C/N: Small world, I used to work with him too. We dated, Y/N.

You started at your screen, you couldn't imagine your cousin dating someone like him.

Y/N: Did you break up with him or something?

C/N: He actually broke up with me. We both entered a contest together. I won and he got mad.

Y/N: The contest that sent you to France?

C/N: Yes! It's so beautiful here and I don't regret leaving to be honest. I found myself here and found a better love.

Y/N: So he’s just holding a really bad grudge?

C/N: Probably, I don't suggest you pry too much on it. He dwells on the past too much and I suggest you quit as soon as you can.

C/N: I have to go! I'll talk to you soon! Bien Nuit!

You sighed, wanting to ask more but you knew you shouldn't.

          The following days were awkward. You two made no eye contact and the absence of your usual bickering made the others worry. Kyla made effort to make you comfortable in the situation she didn't even know about. You thanked her for trying to help. On Friday night you and Mingyu were on lockup and cleaning duty, great. You scrubbed the area Joshua used today, cursing at him slightly for getting hardened sugar all over the counter. The kitchen was so quiet that you could hear the hum of the fridges. His voice cut the white noise.

“Listen, I'm sorry.” You turned around to see where he was, not realizing he was behind you. You tried to back up but your back hit the counter.

“Mingyu, I don't want to hear it. You’re just angry at my cousin. I get it.” You sighed before turning back around to continue scrubbing.

“Just angry? No, I'm infuriated but,” he turned you around to face him. The grip on your arm kept you in place.

“I'm apologizing to you.” His softened like a puppy that was being scolded and looked at you.

“She won a contest and you didn't. What's wrong are you that much of a sore loser?” You said in a very obvious joking tone in hopes of changing the atmosphere.

“What you don't know is that she stole my recipe.” You where shocked, she didn't tell you that.

“We made an agreement to share the prize and go to France together. I was going to propose to her god damn it!” His fist banged on the table.

You froze in place, your heart felt tight and you wanted to run away. Mingyu saw how scared you looked and get go of you.

“Go sit outside, let me explain myself once I calm down.” He turned to the sink and faced away from you.

When he didn't hear you move he choked out a quiet, “please.”

          You walked out of the kitchen, taking one look back at him before going onto the floor. You sat by one of the windows where the moonlight shined in. The only source of artificial light was coming from the kitchen. You took out your phone and read the messages again. You hesitated to text her when a cup came down in front of you. You put your phone on the table, screen down. Mingyu took a seat in front of you and signed for you to drink. The warm liquid spread around in your mouth, calming you down. You closed your eyes took in the flavor, opening them you saw that Mingyu was anything but calm. He looked distressed, a look you have never expected to see on him. He drank from the cup and put it down.

“What do you know? Actually, what did she tell you.” Mingyu said, there was little to no confidence in his voice. He obviously didn't want to talk about it.

“Mingyu, we don't have to talk about this. We can forget that night happened and go back to how we usually are as complete opposites that make the mood.” He smiled at your words.

“If only it was that easy to forget.” He sipped the drink as he looked out the window. The bustling streets now empty and the moonlight hitting his face.

YEET THATS IT. ITS A BAD ENDING BUT THIS IS THE LAST TIME IM GONNA TRY DOING A SERIES LOL IM SORRY Y’ALL

[fountainpenguin]

Please do #7.

#7 - Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I’ve written so many scenes I love. I couldn’t pick just one, so here is one from each of several fandoms.

Total Drama - The Lyin’ Queen, Chapter 2: “Last One Standing”

Context: It’s just after Staci’s elimination ceremony. We follow her point of view as she wanders Playa Des Losers while the Season 1 cast pack up and leave after learning that they won’t be participating this season. Note that in this scene, Ezekiel is on Staci’s shoulders.

That snapped up the attention of the boy with the injured arm who had greeted Staci down by the beach. “Hold on. Owen, what happened to your face?”

“Um, Chris strapped a bomb to it, and it went off. It’s okay, though! It wasn’t really a bomb, it was just a signal flare thing. It doesn’t hurt anymore, really, Noah. You don’t have to worry.”

Noah opened his mouth. Shut it. He raised his good hand. Lowered it. Raised it again, then lowered it.

“Why didn’t you tell me this five hours ago when I asked for everyone with injuries to meet me down at the dock?”

They made a comical sight- a giant cringing away from a scrawny bookworm who had one arm wrapped in a sling of reeds. “I didn’t want you to yell at me,” Owen whimpered.

“Why would I yell at you?” Noah yelled, slapping his palm to his forehead. “You need serious medical attention, Brickhouse! What is your problem?”

Staci had begun to walk backwards as she watched them, so she didn’t know what to think when her heels and hips thunked against something large and metal and cold. She looked up. The thing was a robot. A big, chunky robot with a square head and small, colorful buttons all over it. It breathed at her.

“Hello?”

The robot continued to breathe at her.

“Okay, yeah…” Staci grinned and tried to slip beneath its arm, but the robot would have none of that. Its clawed hand twisted around. It grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her into the air. “Hey!” she sputtered, kicking her legs. Ezekiel launched into a stream of snarls, and the robot launched into a stream of high-pitched beeps. Staci wasn’t much of a yeller, but she considered putting her lungs to full use when another voice broke her out of her stupor, and she glanced down.

“Leave her alone, gawsh!” A redheaded boy with thick glasses - Staci knew he was Harold, because he’d been in the Drama Brothers band too - brandished the tattered white tablecloth from the buffet table. After folding it a few times, he twisted it up and smacked it against the robot’s chestal region. With a few more grunted clicks and whirrs, it replaced Staci (and Ezekiel) on the ground. Then it rrrrrd backwards, turned around, and drove away.

“You all right?” Harold asked, taking Staci’s shoulder to steady her. She wrinkled her nose in the direction the robot had rolled.

“Ya, I’m fine. What… is it?”

He shrugged and, after casting it another glance, shuddered and began walking in the opposite direction. She hurried after him. “Oh, him. That’s just the Total Drama Machine. It’s just programmed to pick stuff up and throw things away, reach high shelves, purify drinking water, give off magnetic pulses to scare off the mutant wildlife, stuff like that. Just kind of roams around until it bumps into something.”

“Huh. Well, I might have to take it apart and see how it ticks, ya. Inventing runs in the family and I won’t rest until I make a significant contribution to the world. You see, my great-great-great-great aunt Tanya invented HELLO GOLDEN FLIPPING SWEETNESS!”

She recognized him instantly- Who wouldn’t? But he was so much different in real life than he’d looked on YouTube. His tan skin was… was the color of perfect skin, and his black hair had that sheen that all hair should aspire to gain. He had the gorgeous rounded muscles, had the defined cheekbones of cheekbone heaven. He lay back in a pool chair with broken legs, penciling in a crossword puzzle with one hand and holding a tall glass of fruity pink juice in his other. Even before the last word had left her tongue, the newspaper in his lap burst into flame. “What the-?” he yelped, flinging it away as he jerked upright. “Who turned on my-?”

HOOOOO SNAP HE WAS HOT!

He tipped up his sunglasses and gave her a puzzled look. He had two black eyes and a mummified leg and a bloody slash down his right cheek AND HE WAS STILL THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN SHE’D EVER SEEN IN HER LIFE!

“Who is this?” he asked Harold, pointing at Staci with his pinkie. As he said it, his pencil started to smoke. Even his warm voice was super unfairly attractive.

“Justin,” Harold said, gesturing towards the ILLEGALLY MEGA HOT GUY with one upturned palm. Then he moved his palm back towards Staci. “Staci. She’s part of that new cast Chris brought in, and she got booted first this season.”

HE WAS LITERALLY GLOWING AND OH MAN IT WAS SO LUCKY HE WASN’T WEARING A SHIRT BECAUSE IF HE WAS HE’D HAVE TO BE ARRESTED FOR EVER CONCEALING SO MUCH FREAKING BEAUTY FROM THE WORLD FOR EVEN LIKE FOUR SECONDS!

First of all, I just want to say that “Why would I yell at you?” Noah yelled is one of my favorite lines of all time.

Okay, but how can you not love Staci? She is so ridiculously… chill. About everything. I really do need to finish this ‘fic one of these days, because she’s so funny. Keep in mind that this scene with Justin comes shortly after the scene when Staci was about to drown and when she saw someone coming to her rescue, her first thought was, “Please be hot, please be hot, please be hot.”

I don’t think the scene above really needs much explanation. Staci finally meets Justin in person, and it goes down exactly the way you’d expect it to. I nailed both Staci’s voice and succeeded in adding humor to this chapter, so I’m pretty pleased with it to this day.

Pokémon - PMDU - “Playin’ Sight” and “Rory and the Duckletts” Part 7

Context: PMDU is/was a Pokémon Mystery Dungeon group on deviantArt that allowed members to create teams and embark on story adventures. I’ve actually got two pieces from PMDU that I’d like to share because ??? I’m like that ??? The first one comes from “Playin’ Sight”, and is told by Kit the shiny Duskull, who has fallen into despair after Roland migrated south for the winter. As a result of their break-up, Kit lost all housing benefits and can’t stay in the Hunters’ Guild dorms anymore. Snow is on its way, Kit has no place to live, and it’s a very sad day for a suicidal little hippie ghost with depression.

My thoughts had wandered back to Roland’s smug face with its tall, pointed ears and soft feathery muzzle. His whiteness and purity, his snappy red and electric blue freckles, that incurable quirk to his right ear, the muscles rippling around his wings like waves amidst Iravian prairie grass… Was it any real surprise? Roland was all I had. As a Ghost, I’d seen many faces come and go - most of them people I didn’t think were all that fab - but through some twist of fate, I had never met anyone quite like Roland before. He wasn’t a prince. He was hardly a citizen. He was dirty and vulgar and foul-mouthed and ill-tempered. He was sexist, impulsive, gluttonous, clumsy, illiterate, accepting, noble and brave, a devoted worker, passionate… Roland… liked me.Such an absurd concept, that. No one liked me. Katherine Christopher “Kit” of the surname they would not acknowledge was an awful ‘mon by nature. Depressed and troublesome, chaotic and shy. I cared more for my plants than I sometimes did for others’ lives.And yet, despite every flaw, Roland found something in me that he appreciated. He lay his hand against my dead, unfeeling cheek, and he brought me to life. A Duskull that feeds on negativity and a Togetic that feeds on happiness make for quite the pair.Roland was the embodiment of everything that was meant to be in the world. Optimism. Socializing. Fun. He made me laugh when no one in the world could, because his genius blossomed from his gentle stupidity. Despite him disgusting me, he was my favorite ‘mon in the world. Why did I hate knowing that he saw me as his friend? I know why. Because that hurts. When your best friend doesn’t count you as their best in return. When I gave him my everything, but being roommates with benefits wasn’t enough to make him stay.Serpent below, I’m in love with someone I’ve forgotten how to hate.

“Get me another leppa,” I told Linette, shoving my empty juice cup across the counter as the Mareep beside me got to his two rear feet and stretched. When she closed her flipper around it, we touched for the briefest of moments. I let my fingers linger, until finally she eased the glass away. If she’d been Roland, she would have held them absently as she stared out the window, then turned to me with crooked teeth slightly parted at the sight of simple wonder in the evening streets.I’d have murdered someone for the chance to tell him I was sorry. I’d curl my long, wispy tail around his ankle the way he liked, leaning forward with my folded arms on his knee. One more night. Just one with the love god who considered me dirt, since I played in it so much, burying plants, burying emotions, burying dreams. One more night. Someone else’s blood on my hands for the taste of nacho cheese on his lips. I’d give anything to hear him whisper in my crumpled Slakoth ear that I actually mattered.

“Playin’ Sight” is a really cool piece for me, because it really allowed me to develop Kit’s character. Especially Kit’s relationship with Roland. Apparently those two were roommates with benefits the entire time and I just had no idea until now. But a Duskull and a Togetic have got to be one of the cutest, most complicated, and most unexpected couples you can stumble across. One wants to make the other miserable, the other wants to make the other happy.

Kit is aromantic pansexual, and I had a lot of fun writing sexual attraction from an aromantic ghost’s point of view. Kit’s lost so many people… so why does losing one more have to hurt so much? Especially when Roland is deliberately written to be as stereotypically horrible as I could make him, except for the fact that I accidentally made him volunteer at orphanages and nursing homes in his spare time and censor all his swears. I just love their dynamic. I like the prose above because we see Kit working out messy feelings, and I think it’s cute.

Now! “Rory and the Duckletts” was a side story I wrote over the course of a year and a half that told the story of Team Plum Pudding’s first days in the city of Andalusst. This particular scene revolves around my characters Rudy the Gothita and Adrian the Chespin after Rudy was tossed in “temporary jail” for crushing part of the city with a flying (read: falling) Wailord. Adrian has come to seek him out, since he believes Rudy to be the only person in the city who knows who stole the notebook that contained his entire life’s work regarding Pokémon biology.

The floor was rough. Cold. There were only six cells in the small side building, and of them a mere two were occupied. The first cell contained a sleeping Audino with matted pink fur, curled up in the far corner. Rudy was in the second one. The Gothita lay on his back on the simple bunk in the otherwise empty enclosure, sliding his feet up and down the brown wall. His hands were still bound and covered with the cloth sack.Adrian glanced Angelo [the Zangoose]’s way. “And I’m allowed to speak with him?”“I honestly don’t care one way or another what you do, so long as you don’t attack him or me or try to remove him illegally from the premises.” Angelo flicked his claw at one of the bars. It clanged. “We force-fed him a Disable pill approximately fifteen minutes ago. He ought to be harmless for the next forty.” He withdrew to his desk along the opposite wall.Rudy sat up. “Darian?”“It’s me, Rudy.”He rolled from the bunk and came over, pressing his snout to the bars. His eyes rotated around a little, and finally he found the Chespin’s body heat and smiled.“I knew you liked me. It was the ride above the clouds, wasn’t it? It’s always the ride above the clouds. That’s the rule of three.”“Of course I like you. I adore you.” Adrian crossed his arms. “You know why I came and I have neither the time nor desire to play games, so let’s hear what you have to say and get on with it.”Rudy’s little smile disappeared. “Hey Darian, listen. It’s weird, but they severed my connection somehow.” “Connection to what?”He pointed at his head where his ear should be (Adrian decided that he probably had ear holes just beneath those ribbons). “I don’t know the word for it in like non-psychic language. But the pill messed up my connection.”“In Common, please?”Rudy sighed like Thorn. “You know, my thing. My Gothita sight powers. I can’t even see the warm windows anymore, even though you’ve had one following you all day and it’s probably still here. And I’m not picking up too many signals, so half the time I’m losing my words.”“I’m sorry for you. Does that interfere with your ability to describe the location of my sketchbook thief?”“Well, no, but… It bothers me. No, it really does. I feel gross and dead.”Adrian clicked his fingers several times, at least as well as he could manage. “Rudy. It’s late. My feet are sore. My ribs are broken, gosh darnit, if you’ve forgotten that. I am starving, exhausted, dried halfway to a husk, and just in an incredibly cranky mood overall. Please, just once today, can I not have something go easily for me?”Tilting his head, Rudy brought his brows together. “Why didn’t you tell me your ribs were broken? I would have healed you if you’d asked nicely.”“Please don’t tell me you know Heal Pulse. I will pitch a fit.” “Yeah, I do. My Dad taught it to me when I was little.”“Why didn’t you- I told you I couldn’t walk!”“Well, you didn’t say it was because you’d broken your ribs. You just need to be more specific. Wait, did I just…?”Adrian narrowed his eyes. He probably deserved that, although he wasn’t sure exactly how. He glanced out the window over Angelo’s desk. The sky was still black. He ground his teeth. His tongue flicked over the space in the back where he was missing one. Had that only been yesterday?“Gosh darnit Rudy, please. I will fall to my knees and clasp my hands if that is what you would have me do. Everything I am is dependent upon that notebook. You’re the only one who can rescue me from this despairing pit I have slipped into. I’ll owe you so many favors. Please, for the love of science, answer me. Where is our thief?”“I’m sorry,” Rudy said, not looking particularly broken up about this. “I can’t tell you. I don’t know what street he’s on. I’m thermosighted, remember? I can’t read signs, so I’d have to show you where. I can find it - it won’t be hard.”Adrian bashed his head against the cell bars. He let it stay there for a few seconds, then turned around to look at Angelo. “Is there any way possible I could take him out, just long enough for that?”Angelo shrugged, bored. “Not particularly, no. He’s being temporarily contained, so he’s stuck here for twenty-four hours or until his legal guardian comes to pick him up and sign the necessary forms. Whichever comes first. I think they’re planning to move him to the real jail once his time is up, since they can legally arrest him or something. I don’t know for sure. They told me, but I wasn’t really listening.”Adrian swiveled his gaze around to Rudy. “And I suppose it would be far too much to hope-”“Ended up separated from my dad in the Fog a season cycle ago, biff. As of yesterday, I’m now registered as a legal dependent of the city until I turn seventeen in common year.” He frowned. “I’d tell you ‘It will take awhile’, but that’s too close to the old thing right now, I think. I don’t remember.”Oooof course. This would be too easy otherwise. Adrian pressed his hands against his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, that settles that for us, then. This is the worst day of my entire life. No, you think I could be exaggerating, but I’m not. I hate every ounce of today. Or do we use another measurement system in this goshdarn city? I hate every gram of today.”“Hey.” Rudy tapped his bound hands against one of the bars, producing a low rattling sound. “Hey, plant guy. You should become my legal guardian. I think it would be nice to have parents.”His whiskers twitched. “That’s not happening. I didn’t come here to adopt a foster kid. Try again.”“Oh.” Rudy thought for a minute. “What if you broke me out?”“I’m not doing that. That’s against the law. Even if it weren’t, it would be rude. I’m not the kind of ‘mon who finds joy in tearing apart a carefully-constructed public building. Aside from that, your new friend the Zangoose is standing right here and I assume he would attempt to stop me.”Angelo shrugged. “That sounds like something I would probably do.”Rudy sighed. “Weeeell… I guess if I were a nice person, I could let you read my mind.”“Oh, would you? I would be so flattered. Ah, wait. Drat- I can’t read minds. Believe me, I would love to be a Psychic-Type.”“Phone a friend?”“Phone a… Oh, do you mean call in another Psychic? Do we have time for that?”“Nope. Maybe. I dunno. Not my problem.” Rudy shrugged, and his smirky smile came back. “Well, I suppose there’s no help for it. You’ll have to run away. I mean, I mean! Adopt me. You’ll have to adopt me. This helps both of us. I don’t see any better solution. And speaking of better, I’m feeling better already. Did you hear what I just said? I think my pill…” He chose to shut up without being asked. Probably for the first time in his life.Angelo shrugged again. “If you want to take him under your wing, you just need the mutual consent of all parties involved for that. Adopter and adoptee. Birth parents can intervene if they can prove their genes are shared, which isn’t hard. If they’re around. You could sign the document and be out of here in a matter of minutes. I have a stack of papers like that here in this drawer. Interested?”Sure, why not? Because that sounded like a perfect idea. Of all the children in the city, wild Rudy - who was currently behind bars in first-level jail, in case anyone had forgotten - was definitely the one Adrian wanted most. Rory had a c-day coming up, and a child would make a perfect mid-birthday present for her. And with Rudy came the Wailord, and then Adrian could get to enjoy the experience of almost dying every possible day. Everyone wins.Adrian picked up the first sheet of paper.Check all that apply: I am adopting an Egg of uncertain origin / I am adopting an Egg of known origin / I am adopting a person who has seen four or fewer winters / I am adopting a person who has seen five or more winters / I am adopting a direct relative / I am adopting my spouse’s child / I am adopting a person already affiliated with my Guild team as a fully documented member for at least one season.“I’m not doing this,” Adrian said, skimming down the rest of the page. It was alarmingly short for a document that could change one’s life so tremendously, so it didn’t take long.What city, town, village, or similar do you reside in? Do you qualify for official residency?I can confirm the adoptee’s birth parents or former guardians consent to adoption and have signed the necessary relinquishment forms or have otherwise been unable to perform physically or morally proper guardianship duties for the adoptee for a period of at least one most recent season.Consent of birth parent or former guardian is not necessary because: Guardian is confirmed deceased with currently no confirmation of spectral return / Guardian has been lost in the Fog for time exceeding one season / Guardian has been deprived by law of custody / Guardian has voluntarily surrendered right to custody / Adoptee was first discovered as Egg or somewhat or entirely Fogwiped and birth parents have not yet been traced.Contact with adoptee’s former guardians post the adoption is: Signed and attached / Undecided / Not applicable at this time. He shook his head. “No. I can’t commit to this - there’s no way I have time to read all these papers. Have any other plans in that unstable little skull of yours?”Rudy had tilted his head and put his mouth around one of the bars - Adrian tucked that thought away for later - but he stopped mid-chew to screw up his brows. “I’b not really what you migh’ call th’ planning type. I us’wawy just go vith th’ first thing to pop in’o my head s’long as it’s vithin the rules I know, and things us’waway work out okay.”Suitability for adoption: Adopting guardian can be considered an adult by officially recognized common count, will treat the child as a member of xir own family, will care for and provide support for the child, has a suitable home for the child, bestows upon the child rights equal to those that would come from natural birth including inheritance, and is adopting the child while being of their own, safe and sound mind.Yeah right. Like Adrian was going to get that garden house of his dreams and just pass it on to Rudy when he died. Rudy would probably murder him to get it if he found out.The information given on this form and all attached documents is correct to the best of my knowledge. I understand that this means if I have lied on this form, I am guilty of crime unless a condition of ethereal powers such as in the case of possession or psychic abilities is recognized and confirmed within thirty days.The edges of the paper crumpled in Adrian’s fists. Lowering it so he could see Rudy’s bright blue eyes again, he jabbed his finger through the bars of the cell. “If I do this for you, you will never, ever, ever, ever cross me for as long as you should live or exist in spiritual form.”“But why would I do a thing like that?” Rudy asked, setting his covered hands against his chest bow. 

Oh, there are a dozen things I love about this piece. We’ll start with the most obvious: Adrian spontaneously adopting the child he despises, and refusing to tell his boss and team partner Rory that he did so. Adoption was not my original plan going into this scene, but I adored the idea. What’s funny is the sheer amount of people who know this happened, none of them being Rory. In a later piece called “‘Cue the Music”, Miles and Kit argue over how to bring “Hey Rory, Rudy is legally your child now” up in conversation now that Adrian has been… removed from the picture. They know, she doesn’t. Good times. Love it.

I love the little details here, like the fact that Rudy was force-fed a Disable pill to strip him of all his moves. In the next scene, when he and Adrian are walking down the street, Adrian realizes that because Rudy is a Psychic-Type and his blood moves extremely quickly through his body, drugs don’t last very long in his system and if he would have waited a few more minutes, Rudy could have gotten out of jail by catching Angelo off guard with a few attacks. Cracks me up every time.

I think my absolute favorite bit of prose here is Adrian listing off all the reasons why he SHOULDN’T adopt Rudy, and then promptly picking up the adoption papers and reading through them anyway. I love these two and their dynamic so much. Really wish this Group hadn’t gone on hiatus. I had big plans.

This scene is also notable for being the only time we ever see Rudy speak without using references in every line of his dialogue, as he lost his psychic connection with the Fourth Wall when he was Disabled, so it’s kind of cool to see what he sounds like when I’m not feeding him obscure quotes all day. Turns out he’s still an adorably annoying little guy.

Fairly OddParents - 130 Prompts, “Solo”

In all honesty, China’s introduction scene is probably my all-time favorite. I have a lot of scenes I like, but several of them I’ve talked about on this blog before, and some of my other favorites we haven’t reached yet and they’re spoilers. A lot of my favorite scenes are lengthy ones (“Shadow” and “China’s Finger Trap” come to mind), so here are two that are a bit shorter.

The door on this end had a small sign above the handle that read, Timmy’s Room: PLEASE, PLEASE Knock.

Remy entered without knocking and switched on the lights.

This is from “End of the World.” Remy barging into Timmy’s house in the middle of the night and turning on all the lights like it’s his own home just cracks me up. You can bet that Timmy’s parents don’t knock either, but you can’t blame a kid for trying.

And I have another one too:

Context: H.P., Sanderson, and several other pixies are about to observe one of the youngest pixies in the company as he retakes an exam for the tenth time.

Four minutes later, Sanderson gathered with the other proctors of the exam - Hawkins, Wilcox, Longwood, and the Head Pixie himself - outside the door.

“You all have your clipboards and two pens at the ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect you all to be as objective as possible. Is that understood? Hawkins? Sanderson? There will be trouble if I see any more ‘At least he tried’s. We’re not cutting him slack because he’s already failed nine times.”

They both nodded. Longwood tugged at one tight sleeve of that fluffy brown jacket of his, plainly reveling in the fact that H.P. hadn’t said his name.

“And Longwood?”

“Sir?”

“You have a lipstick stain smeared beside your ear that wasn’t there before Naelita Sorins went up to your office. I’ve noticed she’s been visiting quite often lately, and less and less often when you go on break.”

Longwood’s face turned gumball pink beneath the dozens of red freckles that identified him as a gyne rather than a drone. His fingers went straight for the spot on his cheek. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s twice I’ve had enough proof to call you on it now. Three strikes and you’re out. If this happens again, I want your cap on my desk, and Smith will rise to his gyne duties and replace you as company vice president. After we finish here today, you can report to evening dish duty for two months as you did before.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for not firing me. I’ll clean myself up better next time.”

H.P. raised one eyebrow. Sanderson kicked his ankle, because he could get away with it.

“I- I mean, I won’t do it again (Watch your fat toe, lug).”

“Do what?”

“I, erm, I won’t sneak smooches during work hours, sir.”

Sanderson whistled a few bars of “Kiss the Girl” from Disney’s “The Little Mermaid” as H.P. looked him up and down. “I suppose that’s the most compromise I’m going to get out of you. If you ever wonder why you aren’t allowed to leave Pixie World unsupervised anymore, this is why.”

“That's… that’s perhaps for the best, sir.”

“How am I doing, boss?” Wilcox asked. H.P. stared at him for a moment, rubbing his chin, then gave him a thumbs up. Wilcox brightened. Hawkins patted his shoulder with his bad hand, and Sanderson mimicked the thumbs up once the boss’s back was turned.

H.P. opened the door. The room was small, with a desk and chair set solidly on the tile. A window into the observing room spanned the back wall. Arranged neatly on the desk were one landline phone, one pad of green sticky notes, his starpiece, a wrinkled purple pamphlet that listed each pixie’s name, job title, and room number, and about a dozen blue and black pens. Rosencrantz sprang from the chair as soon as the door opened, holding his arms straight by his sides.

“Sir.”

“Good afternoon, Rosencrantz. The time is 1:00. You will now be entering the fifth and final day of your assessment. Today you will be answering calls from clients and, if necessary, directing them to whomever you believe can be of best assistance to them. You may use the provided pamphlet, but no other notes or reference materials you may have written. You must take ten calls, and are expected to remain in the exam room until you do. You may contact any pixie for anything you need to complete your tasks. However, you cannot ask for advice on how a call should be answered. When you are finished, you must demonstrate the proper exit procedure as though you were going on break, after which you may leave the room and wait while we tally up your score. Are there any questions?”

“No, sir.” Unsurprising. Rosencrantz had run through this test so many times, he probably had the opening speech memorized as well as H.P. did.

H.P. flipped the wall switch to redirect all incoming calls to Room 1C. “You may begin.”

On that signal, he and the others floated (Longwood walked) through the room’s rear door and took their seats in the floating chairs behind the window. H.P. sat down in the centermost one, removed his glasses, and massaged his temples.

“Twelve pens. He’s nervous. The utmost he can pull out of this now is a two hundred and forty-nine.”

The scene where H.P. studies Wilcox thoughtfully and then gives him a thumbs-up is probably one of my favorite bits of prose that I’ve ever written. It was the perfect end to the little critique session going on there. Wilcox brightening up just makes my day. Although he’s a boring, stoic pixie, I always envision him breaking into a grin and clenching his fists near his chest in a squee. Praise from H.P. is hard to come by some days, and they drink it up when they can.

Some other aspects of this scene that I love are Longwood instantly knowing where the kiss mark on his cheek is, Longwood promising to “Clean himself up better next time” and H.P.’s eyebrow raise in response to this, Sanderson kicking Longwood “because he could get away with it,” and of course, the last line here where H.P. deducts points before the exam even starts just because Rosencrantz has “too many pens.” With the way he rubs his forehead, you can just feel him oozing disappointment.

Not to mention, I love the entire concept of this piece. It’s a cute one. And it ends so dramatically. Lots of fun, and definitely counted as one of my favorites of the entire project.

Danny Phantom - “How to Get Ahead In Navigating”

Context: Youngblood has returned to the Ghost Zone after “The Fenton Menace” and arrived at a Western-themed saloon-like restaurant. He announced his arrival and all the patrons are scrambling to pull out money for him. All except for two: one being Vlad, and one being a muscle-headed mercenary-type here.

“Who the heck are you to be bossing me around, kid?”

It’s very quiet in the room. I hear someone reach out and adjust their fork on the table behind me.

“Mmm.” I prop my cheek against my fist, with my elbow on the table. I even kick my legs behind me as I do it, so I’m more like floating horiz… horace… on my belly in front of them. “You’re cute. You know what? I like your moxie, so I’ll give you one more chance to decide what you’re gonna do about this. I’m Captain Youngblood. The Captain Youngblood. Plunderer of merchant ships, transporter of Living Realm goods, adopted son of Prince Aragon’s chief royal advisers, hold the all-time high score on Plasmius Peril at the Purgebane arcade, savior of the skeletons. Ring a bell up in that waxy noggin of yours?”

Anchor Arm sweeps his stare over the other patrons in the restaurant. I don’t look behind me, but I know a lot of them are probably watching us. This doesn’t happen a lot. “You really here bragging that you’re the toughest guy in this dinky little joint?” He looks at the man in white like Is he for real? while the man in white simply smiles back at him with the patience of a cracking tree branch.

“Yeah, well.” I walk my gloved fingers across the tabletop, and jump them on Anchor Arm’s spoon. His spoon flips into the air and clatters down in the other guy’s soup bowl. “I never said thaaat. I mean, I am just eight years old. You don’t really have to do anything I say. Unless you want to.”

He gets ready to smack me in the face, because we’re being the most cliché people ever and of course he’s going to lose his temper at me in five seconds. I get ready to not move. If he chickens out, I win. If he slaps someone who looks like a kid, then everyone will be shocked and afraid, and I can fall to the floor and act stunned, then get up and be super calm about it and make a show of forgiving him while still being the mysterious, barely-restrained loose cannon everyone thinks Captain Youngblood is. And then I win.

But I don’t get the chance to not move. A glowing pink coil of energy, like a whip, snaps out and catches him around his hand bobble. Wrist. It’s the other man at the table. With a yank, he pulls his friend’s arm down with a light grunt. It slams against the table, rattling the silverware.

When I look at Anchor Arm’s friend, I expect to see him pleading, ready to grovel at my feet for mercy. Instead, he’s all relaxed. Maybe even laughing. The guy actually has a sort of chuckle on his face, a friendly We’re sharing a joke here; typical Anchor Arm–you know how the poor man gets.

Um. Do I know this guy? Like I said, he’s dressed in almost all white, except for a black triangle of a shirt at his chest. He also has on huge black gloves that look like my cowboy ones, and a thick black belt around his waist. And there’s that huge puffy red and white cape too. The collar on that thing is like fwoosh. His Dr. Spectra devil horn hair is the blackest shine you can get in hair. His calm attitude stabs me in the guts. If I had skin, this is the definitely the first guy I’ve met in a long while who would make my skin crawl. But I don’t have skin. I don’t know who this is.

“Goodness me, I’m so terribly sorry. Allow me to extend my most formal apologies.” The man touches two fingers to the two clasps on his red and white cape, briefly shutting his eyes. The smile doesn’t disappear. “My name is Vlad Plasmius.”

… Eep. Yeeaahhh, I know who this is. I mean, we’ve never met, but I don’t think we have to. I’m Captain Youngblood, champion of the rebel skeletons. He’s Vlad Plasmius, the grown-up halfa who can beat up Phantom, and guardian of the only other permanent portal we usually talk about in the Ghost Zone. Does anything else even need to be said? What’s he even doing in the Limbo sector? I thought his portal was in Haykees. Shouldn’t he be, I dunno, guarding it?

Plasmius retracts his pink whip with a flick of his hand. The energy dissipates like mist. “And what my friend Romeo here means, dear boy, is that we would be delighted to provide a strapping young orphan boy like you with all the funds you could possibly need that you’ve been unable to procure for yourself.”

My smile wrinkles. “Huh?”

I know what all those words mean. I’m smart like that. But huh?

The man reaches into his vest, I guess, and pulls out the biggest stack of cash I’ve ever seen, except on game shows. He drops it on the table next to his bowl, where the spoon I flipped is still sitting, then pulls out another stack of cash even bigger than that one. And then another. It’s like he just goes around wearing a whole padded vest stuffed full of money to protect him when he gets shot by lasers or something. I don’t even have a clue how valuable cash even is in the Ghost Zone, so is that a good idea, or a wasteful one? Does our economy even work anymore now that King Pariah’s gone and half our money is rocks picked up off the ground? I actually do not know. I don’t really care about booty.

“Now.” After four bundles, the man laces his fingers under his chin, leaning his elbows on the table. “What exactly was your usual pay rate, again?”

“Uh.” My eyes dart to the money, then to him again. That stuff looks real. That can’t be real. It’s too much. He’s showing off. This is weird. What’s going on? “I… I… I don’t have a set rate for what I take. I just take whatever people give me. It, uh, averages out to be about 900 /d/ a person, I guess.”

That didn’t sound very pirate captain. That sounded very domino punching bag king.

I love the restaurant scene as a whole because it makes it very clear that Youngblood actually is a big deal in the Ghost Zone. In show canon, he has a ship full of skeletons who respect him, and the plot of “Pirate Radio” literally revolved around Danny being confused that everyone respects Youngblood when he’s in charge, and no one respects him when he tries to be in charge.

In this scene, Youngblood strolls in like he owns the place, with confidence and swagger through the roof. Everything is fine until his path crosses with the one person who refuses to bow to him. Youngblood is used to rerouting paths so that he can pull a victory either way the situation goes. But clever Vlad knew exactly how to surprise him, and humiliate him in front of the entire restaurant. 

Youngblood is a very interesting character, having fifty years of world experience and the mind of an eight-year-old to process it all. I feel that the restaurant scene really delves into the way he works and the teasing games he plays. I love the way he describes things: The collar on that thing is like fwoosh. I also love the fact that when Youngblood was flaunting his credentials, he listed his high score in the arcade before the fact that he’s known as “the savior of the skeletons.” Priorities.

This piece is heavy on stream of consciousness, and I think it came out very well. I’ve tried writing Youngblood in past tense, but I just can’t. His constant thoughts and his way of addressing the reader pin him so well in present. I just adore his little comments like, If I had skin, this is the definitely the first guy I’ve met in a long while who would make my skin crawl. But I don’t have skin. I don’t know who this is, and Does anything else even need to be said? What’s he even doing in the Limbo sector? I thought his portal was in Haykees. Shouldn’t he be, I dunno, guarding it? He’s just so beautifully… child-like. Nailed it. “Ahead In Navigating” is definitely one of my absolute favorite pieces I’ve ever written.

Bunsen Is a Beast - Goodness of Misfit, Chapter 1: “King and Lionheart”

Context: Mikey Munroe has been called down to the principal’s office, and he’s about to be given Bunsen’s file and told that he’s been assigned to welcome Bunsen to school, since no one else on the welcoming committee wanted to. The peppy welcoming committee supervisor, Miss Lighthouse, is here as well.

“Oooh, it’s such a shame you hate traveling beyond town as much as you do, bingo ball! You know, when I was your age, I was out running and climbing in the woods and swimming in the river just constantly. I recorded all my adventures and wrote a book. School is delightful, but the summer season is what really gets me drunk on living such a glorious life!”

With that, she punched the air. The arm that still had all its fingers was a prosthetic, and sometimes it freaks out when it moves too fast. This was one of those times. Principal Freshwater’s globe flew off the bookshelf and crashed behind my chair. I winced, but didn’t get up to look at it. Instead, I folded my [unbroken, unburned, untouched by insects, uncovered in poison ivy, free of snake bites, fully functional, very safe because I don’t take them into the woods unprotected like a crazy person] arms and tried to find his pupils behind his milky glasses.

“Uh… Are we really getting a new student this late in the year? Sir?”

I didn’t see any other reason for Miss Lighthouse to leave her classroom. I mean, I was just a fifth grader, lowest on the rungs of middle school, but everyone knew I’d be promoted from a mere member of our welcoming committee to its head next year. It was a win by default; one by one, the rest of the kids had told me flat-out to my face that they wouldn’t be coming back.

… Come to think of it, I’d noticed most of them called down to meet with our principal a few days before telling me flat-out to my face that they wouldn’t be coming back. In our last meeting, Miss Lighthouse and I had been the only ones to even show up.

I crossed my ankles as my toes curled in.

Principal Freshwater placed both hands on his desk and heaved himself from his chair. Well, he got up, at least. The seat stayed stuck to his, uh, lower half for an extra two seconds before it fell back on its wheels with a clatter. “That… is precisely what we called you down here to discuss today. Our new student will arrive at the end of September, six weeks into the school year. As you well know, Michael, I’m due to retire in a matter of months.”

“Really? Weren’t you supposed to retire in like, January? And the October before that? And the June before that? And the-”

He adjusted his striped tie with his fist until it reached an angle that said “Shut your yap, punk-to-be, before I transfer you into Coach Glutes’ homeroom and obliterate all your chances at a successful future.”

As a punk-to-be, I was thereby cowed into shutting my yap.

“Our humble school has been granted a… sufficient amount of funding to ensure our new transfer student feels as though we’ve actually put forth effort into making him feel accepted in our community. When I leave this job behind, I do not want to be remembered as the man who wiped our town off the map… and into a pit of gnashing teeth, roaring flames, and acid burns. As such, I want to see this exchange program pulled off without a hitch.” While he was talking, Principal Freshwater oozed around the edge of his desk and brought his mouth near my nose. “Do you know what ‘without a hitch’ means, Michael?”

I squinted one eye to block his spittle from my cornea. My gaze darted to the picture frames lined up along the edge of his desk, but no one in the family photos screamed ‘Killman material’ to me, so I relaxed again. A little. “Uh… That this is a really huge and important job and you’re asking me to do it because I handle stress well, I run three of our clubs, I’m like the only kid who still wants to be part of the welcoming committee next year, and you know I won’t drop out because when I stay after school I get to use Miss Lighthouse’s computer without the constant fear of my parents being able to tap into my browsing history and expose my innermost secrets behind my back?”

In my free time, I tap into people’s security systems and jot the codes that work down for future reference. It only takes a few dozen tries, and I’ve lived here all eleven and a half years of my life. Not the kind of thing any kid wants to surrender to the loophole police.

Placing a hand over the headrest of my seat, Principal Freshwater leaned it all the way down until my back was almost parallel with the floor. His shoe stopped the feet from kicking too high. “It means that if you mess this up for us, Michael… it will be on your meaty head. And that’s a lot of head.”

“I can’t say I entirely disagree, sir,” I whispered through the reek of oysters and mayonnaise on his breath. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to remind him my last name was spelled with a ‘u’ and not an ‘o’.

I absolutely love the moment that Principal Freshwater pushes the headrest of Mikey’s seat down and leans over him. It came out exactly the way I wanted to, and really emphasizes Mikey’s discomfort. Overall, I think my Mikey voice came through very well in this piece. That casual way he mentions that he taps into people’s security systems, though. I mean, small town boy who’s parents installed them in the first place. He gets curious. What do you expect?

We never saw the school principal in the show, so I made one up and I feel like he fits in perfectly. In case we did meet the principal in the future, I wrote this scene so that Principal Freshwater here is about to retire. I just love the scene where Mikey is questioning this, musing that the principal has been wanting to retire for a long time. Mikey has that little, absentminded way of undermining people that’s such a funny part of his character. I’m glad I was able to slip it in, and set up the opportunity to use Principal Freshwater later if I’d like to.

Mario - “Pendant of Scarabs” Chapter 1

Context: Back in 2011, I started a ‘fic called “Pendant of Scarabs” that revolved around young Kamek and Cackletta, two long-time rivals who team up to search for magical treasures in an underground pyramid. I never finished it, but I have oodles of child Cackletta stuff that I would love to reboot as a backstory fanfic someday if I had the time. This scene here is the first part of the first chapter.

The flying turtle boy was bothering her again.

Idiot.

She shielded her face with one hand, narrowing her eyes against the sky. He circled above on his broomstick, watching her watch him. It had been two days since she’d first noticed him, three since she’d thought she was being followed. Now, he didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was tailing her. He swam lazy circles through the air, over and over in front of the sun, his shadow tracing her progress on the ground.

There were two ways to get him to come down. For the first one, she could blast him out of the sky with a lightning bolt. It would be tiring though, and just make him angry, and she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with angry flying magical turtles.

She could wave him down with her hands, but that was something she could never see herself sink to doing. He could circle the sky all he wanted. She didn’t care.

Or he could dive down like that. That worked too.

Cackletta scowled at Kamek as the Magikoopa swooped low. “Why have you been following me? Do you want something?”

His broom slowed to a halt in front of her. “Hello to you too, Princess. Lost again?”

The young witch crossed her arms, her scowl deepening. “What do you mean ‘again’? And I’m not lost. I know exactly where I am.”

“Hmm…” Kamek tapped the side of his snout with a clawed finger, pretending to think. “Crossing the desert, far from home, and I’ve watched you go in circles for the past three hours. Yep, you’re definitely not lost.”

She glowered at him as he slid from his broom. “This is none of your concern. I should zap you into nothing right now.”

Kamek raised the nearest thing to an eyebrow. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? Obviously you don’t have magic abilities right now,” here he pointed to the sun, “or you wouldn’t have warned me. Little unfamiliar with the desert, are we?” When all he got for an answer were gritted teeth, he changed the angle of his claws to point at the paper tucked beneath her arm. “What’s on the map?”

“Like I would tell you.” Cackletta’s long green fingers curled into fists, still smoldering at the desert comment.

“Oh, I already know,” Kamek assured her. “I’m a Magikoopa.” His face became a mask of concentration, and a few seconds later he managed to pull a crystal ball out of the air. Still a little unfamiliar with his magic, his clawed fingers slipped at the awkward grip he was holding it in, and the crystal crashed to the desert sand.

“Hmm… little unfamiliar with the desert, are we?”

“Shut up,” he growled, picking the crystal from the sand and causing it to vanish back to wherever it had come. “My point is, I already know what you’re doing. You’re searching for that amulet thingie of yours.”

“Pendant,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes. “There’s a difference.”

He shrugged. “I’m in need of special magical ingredients for… certain things, and supposedly these things are found at the same place as your amulet. Am I right?” he beamed.

Cackletta’s fingers twitched slightly. “Pendant. What are you talking about?” She had an uneasy feeling that she already knew what he meant, and hoped she was wrong.

Kamek picked up his broom in one hand and angled the handle in her direction. “Well, isn’t it obvious? You need the amulet, and I need a few gems also supposed to be hidden in the pyramid.”

“Who said anything about a pyramid?”

“You know.” He waved the broomstick absently. “The underground pyramid.”

So he DID know. That wasn’t good. “So what you’re saying is that you want to team up. With me. Why would I ever do that?”

Kamek held out the broom again. “For one thing, I can fly. If you’re with me, we’ll have a better view of the area. For another, I’m a magic user too. We have different kinds of magic, Beanish and Koopa. That could be a good advantage.”

“Lachenohr,” she growled.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not convinced. Go on.” She folded her arms.

“I have access to food,” he offered. “Which, after watching you for three days, I think I can safely say that you don’t have anymore. How much longer do you think you can go without food?”

“I can create water out of nothing. I don’t need food.”

Kamek grunted, unimpressed. “Well, think about my offer,” he said as he began climbing onto his broom. “Shame, too. How long do you think it will take until they catch you?”

“What?” Cackletta blurted before she could stop herself. She whipped around, scanning the desert. Nothing but sand, sand, and more sand, a few rocks scattered here and there. “You’re lying.”

“Oh no. Why would a lie about something like that?” He leaned forward over his broom, which still hovered at least a foot off the sand. “Forget it. I should have known you’d be stubborn enough to turn down my offer.” He clicked his tongue, and the broom rose higher into the air. “I’d say they’re only about twenty, thirty miles off? You move fast. I’m impressed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “… I hate you.”

“Last chance,” he warned, smirking slightly.

Cackletta looked him over. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old her time, probably less than that. Juvenile Koopas. She’d never liked them. He wore a blue and white robe a few sizes too big, and the matching hat perched on his head was floppy, forcing him to keep pushing it out of his eyes. A pair of thick glasses rested on his snout. It was a wonder he could even see through those things. At his side was a leather satchel, a strap holding it up around his neck. It wasn’t very large, but it was probably magicked to hold more items than space should allow. And he was right about two things: he could fly, and she was hungry.

“Temporary alliance,” she cautiouslyagreed.

I love this scene because it really captures the relationship between these two characters that I was going for. Cackletta and Kamek have so much potential, I think, and I enjoy watching them bounce off each other. I wrote them here as rivals, but they’re still willing to form an alliance. Cackletta is stubborn and hates swallowing her pride to ask for help, and Kamek is a bit of a social, “Yay, this will be a super fun adventure!” bug. He grows more world-weary with age, but I was aiming for that side of his personality that will stop to chat with you about the lovely pink dress he’s wearing before you take him on in battle. I think I nailed it.

I also like how the worldbuilding is pretty seamlessly woven in (Cackletta’s struggle to use her magic under bright sunlight, and Kamek thinking he’s the big cheese even though he’s still learning his trade himself and dropping his crystal ball). It doesn’t come in all at once. I also love the little details, like smug Kamek being well-prepared with plenty of supplies, casually kicking back and asking Cackletta what’s on the map, while she’s been stumbling around with nothing for days. She’s definitely the rasher one between the two of them. “Food? We don’t need no stinkin’ food. We die like men.”

Even seven years later, it still holds up fairly well, wouldn’t you say? Wish I could say the same for the rest of the ‘fic, ha ha ha. Either way, I’m quite proud of my younger self’s abilities.

My other favorite Cackletta / Kamek rivalry piece would have to be “Our Pointless Magic Lesson”, which opens with those two having a magical snowball fight. Looks like even back then I was already slipping bits of biology into my worldbuilding. I gave Cackletta’s species feet bristles. Hee hee. Desert people. I certainly look forward to writing new Mario ‘fics with improved skills very soon.

Those are some scenes that I enjoy, and I hope that you guys enjoyed them too!

[hollamd]

The Story of Us - Peter Parker

Summary: Peter and Y/N break it off at the end of high school, leaving them both heartbroken. 4 years fly by, and their paths cross at a press conference, with Y/N being a reporter and Peter being the person in question. Will the story of Y/N and Peter end?

Warnings: None, maybe like 2 swear words?

Word Count:  2743 (I didn’t mean for it to be THAT long)

A/N: So this is kinda based of off Taylor’s song The Story of Us. I’m not a big fan of her, just this song. I recommend giving it a listen if you read the story. I was gonna have the story end a different way but it ended up like this??? Anyway if this isn’t a flop I’ll a part 2 so if you want a part 2 comment :^) thanks for reading and it might be messy, I didn’t proofread it. 

The Story of Us

Chapter 1: When it all broke down

“I’m saying goodbye, Peter. I have to.” Y/N was trying her hardest not to cry. “High school is over…And…And so are we.” Peter on the other hand, already had tears starting to pour out of his eyes. “Y/N, baby please I know we can handle it. You won’t even be that far, I can still see you everyday and-” “No, Peter.” She took a sharp breath in. “This…Us… It’ll only ever be  part of my childhood.” “Are you kidding me? Was I just a toy to you? A heart you could throw around until it breaks?” Peter’s voice cracked. “No, that’s not what I-” “Y/N, I’m not gonna fight for you if you don’t even care to let me.” He hung his head and turned around.

“I still love you.” Y/N whispered. He walked out of her life that day, and she’d never regret anything more. Did she mean it? Of course not. Did she need to do it? Of course not. Y/N still loved Peter, but for some reason she thought it’d be easier to start a new life with no strings attached. How wrong she was…

Chapter 2: So many things that I wish you knew

4 Years Later Cutting all ties with Peter was a process for Y/N. First she was in denial, thinking he’d come back and understand why she did it. Then she experienced heartbreak, and thought she was never good enough for him in the first place. Then she experienced anger, blaming it all on Peter for pushing her away (She later realized the pushing away was all her doing). And after a few months, she accepted it. He was gone for good. Of course there were moments, where she’d see news of Spider-man on the television, or she’d see a shirt she knew he would’ve loved… Or maybe someone would even mention Star Wars, and her thoughts would immediately go to Peter. Her heart would ache for his embrace. After a year of getting over him, she had finally taken the last step, and moved on as best as she could from Spider-man. She had just been promoted from being a paid intern to a full on assistant to Scarlett Magazine’s Executive Editor, Sylvia Sloane. Y/N made an amazing best friend through the job, Gina, whom she shared an apartment in NYC with. The two girls told eachother everything. Y/N eventually told them everything about Peter, except the fact that, well, he’s Spider-man. Y/N was quickly promoted to an actual writer for the magazine, as she was actually quite skilled at writing, and enjoyed informing the readers. A year into the job and she’d already achieved so much, with all her celebrity interviews, fashion tips, and for even exposing one politician! One day Y/N was starting to type up an article on “Why Being Strong Doesn’t Make You a Diva” when Scarlett Lynn, the Editor in Chief, told her she had a new assignment. “Tony Stark apparently has an announcement regarding the Avengers, and our readers just eat anything with super-heroes up!” Scarlett talked with such confidence and authority that nobody would dare defy her. “I want you to go to that Press Conference being held on Sunday.” “Yes, ma'am, I understand, but-” “But what? You’re one of the best interviewers on the team! You’re so pretty and charismatic Y/N, I have nobody else to send but you!” Y/N couldn’t exactly turn her boss down, so all she mustered out was “Okay, I won’t disappoint.” Later that night at their apartment Y/N started to complain to Gina “Gosh, I hate press conferences, especially with superheroes!” Ginaust rolled her eyes. “Y/N, you’re literally going to be in the same room as the Avengers, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is…” Y/N let out a deep breath. “Nevermind… You wouldn’t understand.”

“Get over yourself! So many girls would kill to be in your position! Especially if you get to see Spider-Man, I heard he’s around our age…” Gina winked

“He’s the worst one!” Y/N felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “He just looks dumb, he’s not even an avenger.”

“Ugh, just go to bed already.” Y/N lied in her bed, trying to not think about Peter. She had no idea what he was doing now, because she’d tried to avoid any mention of Spider-Man at all costs. Her mind was racing of all the possibilities, but then realized he might not even be there. Y/N was still overthinking everything until she fell asleep.

The two days before the conference she only spent avoiding any thoughts of the conference, and before she realized it, Sunday was here. Y/N spent a little too much time getting ready, and she knew why. She wanted to impress him (if he was even there), and show just how much she’d changed. She pulled her y/h/c locks up into a messy, wavy ponytail, and made sure to do her makeup nicely. Y/N slid into a maroon bodycon dress, and black strappy heels. She grabbed a black clutch and went out the door with a recorder in hand.

Chapter 3: Alone in a crowded room

The conference was filled with reporters, all there for the same reason Y/N was. This was a reason why she dreaded attending; it was just a sweaty pit of people asking questions. A million other magazines would be writing just the same things she would.

However, the main reason she dreaded this conference specifically was because of the possibility he might be there. She probably wouldn’t even see his face, but just knowing that they’re in the same crowded room, and not even speaking would break her heart. Y/N understood that it’s been four years, and that this shouldn’t even bother her, but she can’t help but imagine what she would say to him.

He won’t be here. Y/N kept telling herself. He’s not even part of the Avengers, he turned it down. Plus, isn’t it just supposed to be Tony Stark? Her heart sank. She didn’t realize that before and was almost sure he wouldn’t be here now. But what if he does show up? He probably won’t even see me, all of these reporters are bigger than me… She kept overthinking and only increased her conflicted feelings.

While she was lost in thought, Tony Stark appeared from the dark curtain, with a confident and charming smile on his face. The murmurs of the room came to a hush once his presence was noticed. People began taking out their iPads and phones to record, and Y/N just took out a little notebook.

Cameras began flashing, and Y/N sat up straight to see over the people seated in front of her. Her seat was somewhat near the front, three rows away from the table. Of course, there was another row of photographers in front.

Tony Stark had taken a seat at the table, with a microphone and water in front him. There was another set up to the right of him. Y/N could feel her heart speed up in her chest. Tony Stark began speaking, but the girl was oblivious. She was too focused on the fact that Peter could actually be here? Y/N wanted to get up and leave, she didn’t want him to see her.

“I would like to welcome Spider-Man to the Avengers.” Was all Y/N had heard from Tony’s introduction speech. She threw away all thoughts of leaving the room and froze where she was. In walked a hero in red and dark blue spandex, with gold lining. Spider-Man’s costume was a lot more glamorous than Y/N had remembered.

Her eyes were glued to the man who had emerged from behind the curtain. He had the same lanky yet muscular body frame, but she couldn’t tell if he looked the same. She wanted to rip his mask off, throws her arms around him and tell him just how much she missed him… But all she could do was stare.

“Hello everyone.” Spider-Man gave a small wave and cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. It’s a huge honor to be welcomed to the team and I’m just really excited to be here.”

Chapter 4: I was losing my mind when I saw you here

“We’ll be taking questions now.” (UmMmmM Idk how press conferences work exactly BUT lets just imagine these are how they go o k??)

A man raises his hand behind you, and Tony nods to him “I’m Joshua and I’m from California. I was wondering if you were ever going to reveal your identity?”

Spider-Man shook his head. “I don’t see it happening anytime soon, no. It’s something I like, because I can still be a normal guy while still being a superhero.”

His voice hadn’t changed, and it was still pretty high-pitched, just as Y/N remembered. She always loved Peter’s voice, even though he self-conscious over the fact that he “sounded like a girl.” She loved his fruity laugh, and it always managed to put a smile on her face.

The conference continued on, and Y/N would write down answers and questions on her notebook. The questions were somewhat the same:

“Do you think you’re talented and strong enough to share the weight of the world with the Avengers?”

“Well that’s a big question. I’d say I’m prepared, yeah, but is anyone ever really strong enough?”

“Don’t you feel like you’re a little too young, compared to the rest of the Avengers?”

“Well, at first yes, but not now. I’ve been in this superhero business since I was in high school. After six years it’s nothing new.”

There was, however, one question that really stood out to Y/N:

“Does Spider-Man have a Spider-Woman?”

“Is that you asking if I have a girlfriend?” Peter chuckled.

“Yes.”

“Well to answer your question, no. The last relationship I had was four years ago.”

Once Spider-Man made a comment about one relationship, other questions came flooding in:

“Why haven’t you dated anyone else since then?”

“You see, this girl was a big part of my life, and it took me quite a while to get over her…” He scratched the back of his head. “Also, life has been pretty busy and I just haven’t found room for a woman in my life right now.”

“So this girl, you two broke up… Why is that exactly?”

“Um I’m not really going to go into details but we broke off at the end of high school. Our lives were going in different directions and it was just easier to end the relationship there than see it fall apart.”

Y/N’s cheeks were red the entire time, and she kept her face down. She didn’t come here to hear Peter tell people about herself.

“So, Spider-Man, the girl-”

Tony Stark interrupted the man trying to speak, “Okay enough with the relationship questions please! He did just join the Avengers you know?”

Questions resumed on the path that they were before. Y/N checked the time on her phone to see she had gotten a message from her boss, Sylvia.

I’m watching the livestream, and the relationship topic is interesting. I’d much appreciate it if you could ask what type of girl he likes? Our readers would love that!

Y/N sighed. She didn’t want Peter to even look at her, let alone speak to her. This was the one thing she was avoiding for so long, and she wasn’t going to break the silence now for her boss. She began to type a reply.

Ms. Sloane, we were asked not to ask anymore questions about his relationships. I’m sorry, but I did write everything down!

Y/N, dear, I don’t like asking twice, and I don’t like doing this to you. Ask the damn question or you’ll be demoted back to my assistant. I took a leap of faith making you a writer, don’t make me regret it a year in!

The girl’s heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t lose this job, she loved writing. She only had one option. She lifted her hand up, and waited to be called on like she was in elementary school again.

Tony Stark saw her and said, “Yes, the little lady with the ponytail.”

Chapter 5: Is it killing you like it’s killing me?

Y/N stood up slowly and plastered on a smile. “Um hi, I’m Y/N from Scarlett magazine.”

The girl took a deep breath and looked directly at Peter. “My question for you, um, Spider-Man… What type of girl… What’s the thing you look most for in a woman?” She said the last bit rather fast, and she was quite nervous.

Peter’s eyes were wide under the mask. This was the last place he wanted to see her… He didn’t even know she was a writer for Scarlett magazine… She loved that magazine in high school. He couldn’t help but feel proud of her.

“Look, I said no more relationship ques-”

“Mr. Stark, it’s okay. I’ll take this one….” His voice faltered. “Hi Y/N. Um what do I look for in a girl? I like a girl who can make me feel better on a bad day, one who’ll tell me everything will be okay because… We have each other. Or someone who will nerd out with me when we watch movies, or when I make science jokes…A girl who’ll patch me up after the worst of fights… Is that too specific?” Y/N couldn’t quite see his expression, under his mask, but she sure could hear the grin in his voice. She couldn’t hide her shy smile from him like he could from her.

Peter described her. She’d constantly tell him when he felt bad, that it’ll work out; they had each other. They had movie nights every week and would watch Star Wars, or some Disney movie. She’d laugh at his dork science jokes. He’d come to her window sometimes, with a small cut from a fight, so Nurse Y/N would make an appearance and patch him up. Memories from high school surfaced in Y/N’s brain…

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” Y/N sat back down in her chair.

Peter’s eyes were on his ex for most the interview after that. He couldn’t believe Y/N was here… He wanted to talk to her afterwards, he had to. Spider-Man tried to stop staring at her, but he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t see in her so long, and look at her now. She was a writer for a magazine!

Y/N looked down at her phone, seeing a few new messages from her boss.

Great work Ms. Y/L/N! I’m trying to schedule a one-on-one interview with Spider-Boy.

Thank you Ms. Sloane. I appreciate it.

Y/N let out a deep breath. She’d done it. She’d spoken to Peter and pleased her boss.

The conference wrapped up shortly after, and Y/N was on her way out when her phone started buzzing.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Sylvia. I did get the interview scheduled for you. It’s in 30 minutes. They denied me at first, but then they said it was Spider-Man himself who agreed to it. Be ready.”

“But-”

Then line went dead. Y/N really couldn’t catch a break.

Chapter 6: How’d we end up this way?

Y/N timidly walked up to the table, and walked behind the curtain that Peter and Tony Stark appeared from earlier. There was a body-guard right behind it.

“Oh um. Sorry. Hi…” She tucked her hair behind her ear. It was her nervous habit. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, from Scarlett magazine? M-My boss told me…

“Right this way Ms. Y/L/N.” He nodded toward you, and you followed him to a some weird hallway. “He’s waiting for you in there.” And then the bodyguard walked away.

She hesitated. She grabbed the door knob. It’s just Peter behind that door… Just- “Peter..” Y/N huffed out. She’d opened the door to find Peter standing there, in the Spider-Man attire, without his mask. Y/N looked into his deep chocolate eyes just as she did many years ago.

“Hi Y/N…”

To be continued…

Next

Masterlist

[demisexual-kingdom]

Questionnaire

Tumblr URL: elmyria-faenala.tumblr.com

Sexual/romantic orientation: Aroflux Asexual.

Age group? (13-17, 18-25, 25-39, 40+): 13-17.

How long have you identified as Ace spec?: Ah jeez… About 2 years? Yeah, feels accurate.

Favourite color: Turquoise and Purple

Favourite food: Lemon meringue pie.

Biggest pet peeve?: Having a Biro run out of ink mid-sentence.

Hobbies: Drawing, playing piano, reading/ writing fiction, playing video games… Just general nerd stuff.

Favourite movies/TV shows: Uh, I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I’m a massive child and like cartoons like Tom and Jerry. I like fantasy films, so Harry Potter is up there. Pitch Perfect as well, so funny.

Favourite genre of music?: Electro Swing definitely.

Favourite artists?: Caravan Palace, Jamie Berry and Parov Stelar

Who do you consider your role model?: I don’t really have one? Oh goodness… That’s quite difficult. Uh… This one girl in my year? She’s able to see the good in everyone and I mean /everyone/, it really is something marvellous.

What is your hidden talent?: …Talent? What’s that?

Best/favourite pick up line?: Was your dad a thief? Why? I don’t know. Just making small talk. Mine drives trains.

Who would you want to be marooned on an island with?: Someone who wouldn’t end up killing me would be nice, if I could order one of those then that would be appreciated, thanks.

Chocolate or fruity candies?: Fruity! Chocolate is often too rich for me.

Name (optional): Storm or Solace. Or Rebecca if you want my /real/ name, but please don’t call me that.

Country/state/region (optional): UK

[phangirlof]

Perfect Harmony (01)

Description: Oh Sehun has played cello for years. It’s his one true Passion, one of the only things he’d ever truly given a damn about. Byun Baekhyun plays piano- excuse me- played piano. That part of his life is over and done, until the two meet?

Genre: Angst?? Slight smut

Pairing: Oh Sehun x Byun Baekhyun

Word Count: 2,503

Sehun’s nimble fingers danced across the rigid strings of his old, beaten up cello. There were too many cracks on it’s body for anyone to count. The neck was stained with who knows what. Not to mention the varnish had rubbed away in many places. His mother had tried to get him to pawn it for some quick cash, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it. Many times he’d been sat in the parking lot of the nearest pawn shop, cello in the back seat, a few minutes away from having the cash to put towards something else he’d probably sell years from now. But he always came back home, cello strapped onto his back. This was his first instrument, ever. He never took it with him when he traveled, now he had a much more expensive and much more elegant cello. He mainly used the old one to practice new, intimidating pieces which he just couldn’t seem to get down. Like now for instance, he was given a piece Monday and it’s been four days later and Sehun was having trouble shifting across strings. This was something that troubled him greatly. Shifting had always been one of his strong suits, except for this piece. It was kicking his butt right now, and he couldn’t stand it.

Sehun put the instrument back into it’s case and left it in the corner of his practice room. He loosened his bow, and left it to hang on the wall with all the others he had purchases over the years, each one for a different . He left the room, ready to be away from everything having to do with that stupid song. Why this piece? He wondered. Why? He left the door to the practice room slightly ajar, not truly caring if the door closed all the way or not. As Sehun walked into his bedroom, his phone rang from the oakwood nightstand on the other side of the room. The bed groaned beneath him as he splayed across it, stretching his arm out and grabbed his phone. “Hello?” He muttered into the phone. It was barely noon, but he was already tired of speaking to people today.

“Hey Hun!” Chanyeol piped. “Oh.” He groaned through the phone. “It’s you.” Sehun heard Chanyeol scoff on the other line. “You’re always so mean to me. Anyway, do you have any plans tonight?” Sehun hesitated to answer. Of course he didn’t have any plans. He never does, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend his evening leaning against a bar sipping some lamely named alcoholic beverage, watching Chanyeol making a fool of himself trying to dance for hours upon hours. But unfortunately as Sehun answered with a quiet “No.” That’s exactly what he found himself doing hour later. However Chanyeol wasn’t making a fool of himself on the dance floor, well not just yet. He had said something about introducing him to someone. His name was.. Jongdae? No, that wasn’t quite right, but it was something similar. Sehun stared out onto the dance floor, waiting for whoever to show up. He didn’t particularly want to be here right now, clubs weren’t his thing, but the prospect of meeting someone knew was marginally exciting. His life was a bit bland here lately, maybe something like this could add a little spice.

He was soon after taken out of his thoughts when Chanyeol damn near fell out of his chair trying to get to the person who just came through the door. “That him?” He mumbled. Chanyeol slapped a hand on Sehun’s shoulder. “Yep!” He shrugged Chanyeol’s hand away, which made the older boy stumble and almost lose his balance. One of the men that just walked inside rushed to help Chanyeol stabilize himself, the other disregarded the scene entirely and headed to the dance floor which hinted that he probably wasn’t with the first. “You okay man?” Sehun couldn’t help but choke on his drink at the sound of the stranger’s beautiful voice. Fuck, calm down will ya? He mentally curses, while wiping at the dripping alcohol from his chin. “Just had a little too much already. You know how that goes Jongin.” Jongin, that’s what it was. Sehun had never been one to stare, but damn this guy was quite the looker. He couldn’t resist staring into his mahogany colored eyes, and at his gorgeously tanned skin. Everything about this guy oozed SEX, even in the way he leaned against the bar, pale blonde hair draped beautifully and ever so carefully across his face and button down black shirt bunching up in all the right places. Jongin was so beautiful and at the same time so full of… mystery. Sehun was living for all of it.

“Baekhyun’s still outside. He got a call he swears he  just had to take.” Jongin made air quotes. Sehun let his sinful mind wonder to all the things those pretty hands could do to him, hopefully later. Chanyeol nodded. “Figures.” He pointed over to Sehun. “This is who I was talking about over the phone the other day.” He focused all his attention on Sehun. He would never say it, but he was feeling quite intimidated under the gaze that had been casted upon him. He shifted in his seat as the man in front of him spoke. “Kim Jongin.” He stretched his left arm out and extended his hand out to the only one of the three that remained seated. “Oh Sehun.” His breath caught in his throat as Jongin went to say something, but was interrupted by a short male yelling as he entered the building. “JONGIN, WHERE ARE YOU?!” He simply raised his arm up for him to see.

Sehun gasped at the sight of who he assumed to be Baekhyun. He was practically speechless. Jongin couldn’t even hold a candle to this guy. He was beautiful. He was gorgeous. He was stunning. He was astonishing. There were too many words to describe his incredible god-like beauty. His skin was very different from that of Jongin’s. It was very chalky in comparison, but alas still completely breathtaking. He wore a heavy layer of eyeliner that only enhanced the color of his bright blue eyes. They were way too vivid to be real, but even if they were contacts, they suited him extremely well. He wore all black, shirt, and skinny jeans, except for the colorful jacket that gracefully hung off his shoulders. Random shapes in several different colors embellished the fabric of the jacket. Compared to Jongin, Baekhyun was quite a bit shorter, but Sehun couldn’t find it in himself to care. “You okay?” Chanyeol whispered in his ear. It took him a few moments to gather himself and speak seeing as how the small, enchanting male had made all words and reasonable thought leave him.

“Yeah, just fine.” He choked out.

Chanyeol turned away from him, diverting his attention back to Baekhyun and Jongin. “You finally made it!” He welcomed him with a slap to the shoulder, something Chanyeol did frequently when talking with his friends. “Ah, well sorry it took me so long. If I didn’t take that call Kyungsoo’d have my head on a stake. Anyway, who’s this cutie and how long before I can jump in his pants?” He said casually, pointing a beautiful finger towards Sehun. Chanyeol smirked at his short friend’s bluntness. “Sehun.” Sehun lifted his own hand, and greeted him with a quick two finger wave. At this point he couldn’t really form words, especially not after his comment towards him. It was a miracle he was even breathing.

“Byun Baekhyun.” He said, leaving the group to find some sort of alcoholic drink but not before sending a wink Sehun’s way. He could just feel his cheeks turning a deep shade of scarlet, and he hated every second of it. Chill. Baekhyun returned shortly after, a fruity smelling drink in one hand, a bottle of who-knows-what under the opposite arm, and tray of shot glasses filled to the rim in the other. “What’d you do, go behind the counter and rob ‘em blind?” Jongin gasped. Baekhyun let out a high-pitched laugh, one Sehun found himself wanting to hear again. “I may or may not have sweet-talked the bartender. Pretty cute. Name’s Minseok.” Baekhyun set the drinks on the bar in front of them, and in no time all four men were practically shit-faced, but none of them really cared. It had been months since Sehun had touched so much as a beer, and probably years since the last time he got this drunk. None of the four men could stand up straight by themselves. As they made their way back to Sehun’s house, they had their arms suspended across each other’s shoulders in an attempt to maintain what little balance that remained after the night’s drinking.

Sehun struggled to get his keys out of his pocket, mainly because he couldn’t remember what pocket they were in, but once they were finally in his grasp, he still had trouble finding the keyhole. Baekhyun was cold and tired, so he snatched the keys from the taller boy’s hands and stuck it into the door, and swung it open. Jongin immediately plopped down on the first couch he came into contact with. He didn’t say anything else as he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the couch pillows. Chanyeol stumbled into the guest room which happened to be the first door you came across once you turned down the hallway. Sehun dragged Baekhyun behind him to his bedroom. Half of him wanted to fall asleep seeing as how it had been a long night, while the other half so desperately wanted to fuck the beautiful man senseless. However, the decision was made for him when Baekhyun pushed Sehun back onto his bed and began drunkenly kissing him. Baekhyun was on top of him, grinding their hardening members together needily and kissing him as if there was no tomorrow. Sehun broke the kiss several minutes later, even though both men were panting heavily, it was only to remove Baekhyun’s shirt. Baekhyun happily complied, lifting his arms up over to his head for Sehun to rip the shirt from his body and toss it to the other side of the room. “You’re so fucking hot.” Sehun mumbled, right before pulling Baekhyun back down hard to continue making out. Baekhyun whimpered as Sehun roughly grabbed onto his hips, holding him in place as he started to grind up against him. “Hunnie, I n-need you.” Baekhyun moaned. Sehun usually couldn’t stand the nickname, but right now coming from Baekhyun, he swore it was one of the best things he’d ever heard. Sehun flipped the two over, quickly leaning away from the smaller male to remove his shirt. Sehun instantly praised every higher being for keeping up with his gym membership. Oh how he hated spending hours upon hours in that building, but he got all the reward seeing the look on Baekhyun’s face once his shirt was off. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His deep voice pierced the heavy sexual tension in the room.

Without another word, Baekhyun pulled Sehun back down to him, and the blonde male began an attack on the smaller male’s neck. Baekhyun couldn’t hold the back the moans that fell from his lips. His neck was oh so sensitive, making it his greatest weakness. If he wasn’t already down to fuck Sehun, he certainly was now. And he needed to make that very apparent. He frantically rubbed their bulges against each other in an attempt to rile Sehun up. Baekhyun knew it worked when moments later, he was sat back up to remove the rest of his clothes. He started with his shirt and then hurriedly moved to his jeans. Baekhyun’s ministrations had affected Sehun more than he realized, but while he waited for him to undress himself, he worked his own jeans off, popping the button off and shimmying them down his pale legs. Both men were left in their boxers. Sehun hovered over Baekhyun once again, connecting their lips fervently. He slid a hand down in between the tangle of their bodies, reaching for the elastic waistband hanging tightly on Baekhyun’s hips. Sehun grasped him firmly, making Baekhyun squeal out.

Sehun couldn’t hide the smirk that took form over his lips. He continued on, slipping into the tight confines of his blue boxers. Baekhyun hissed once Sehun’s hand finally wrapped around his hard cock. His fingers barely moved an inch when Baekhyun’s phone sounded off somewhere in the room. “I g-gotta.. get that.” He spoke.

He was breathing heavily because of Sehun’s previous antics. Baekhyun had barely recovered by the time he got to his phone and answered the dreaded call. He knew this was bound to happen but he had hoped Kyungsoo would have forgotten or maybe fallen asleep by now. However, that was not the case. He’s barely pressed the green accept button before the yelling started. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE COMING HOME, I’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK. I’VE BEEN TEXTING YOU AND JONGIN ALL NIGHT. IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR PHONE? DO I NEED TO BUY YOU A NEW ONE??!” was the first thing he heard. Baekhyun sighed as he left Sehun’s bedroom to pick up his conversation in the privacy of the hallway. “Why do you keep acting like this?” He groaned into the phone. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Kyungsoo continued to scream into the phone. Baekhyun lowered his voice, and moved farther away from Sehun’s door. He knew he wasn’t going to be listening in, but he just would rather be safe than sorry. “You know exactly what I mean.” Baekhyun and Kyungsoo had been living together since practically the start of high school. Everything was going peachy until Baekhyun had to screw everything up and fuck him one night, or several. Ever since then Kyungsoo acted like they were dating or something. Baekhyun hated it, however he hated being horny without release even more so there’s that.

“I’m getting tired of you treating me like a dog on a leash. We fucked like once, let it go.” He couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation right now when he could be off having the time of his life with that beautiful blonde boy just down the hall. “DAILY FOR LIKE A WEEK AND A HALF IS NOT ONCE.” Baekhyun scoffed. “You know what I meant, but that’s not the point. Kyungsoo go find someone else to hound over. We’re roommates, best friends, nothing more.” Before he could respond, Baekhyun hung up. He put his phone on silent and left it in the hallway. He went back into Sehun’s room and saw the younger fast asleep. Damn! There went all his hopes of continuing what they’d started. He crawled into bed beside Sehun. Baekhyun found himself falling asleep pretty much the second he’d closed his eyes.

Maybe next time.

Masterlist

[nike-shawn]

uni . *

lol this one is a little bit smutty 

Shawn’s arm is draped around you lazily, fingers tracing over the lace in your top as he chats with one of his teammates who’s sat across the table. Three beer bottles and four glasses of some mixed, fruity beverages are in a line, all of which are empty and all of which have some residue of your bright red lipstick on the rim. You tap your fingers on the surface in something that sounds close to a steady rhythm and lean further into your boyfriend, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

“Fuck,” Shawn laughs, the sound booming across the room and commanding a majority of the female attention around you. If you weren’t so drunk you might have the sense to be jealous. “That whole thing was fucked up - the ref was probably paid off or some shit.” His words are slurring a little, but the biggest tell-tale of his intoxication are the curse words that fall fluidly from his lips, one after the other. Usually he tries to watch it around you - something about being a gentleman or retaining what his mum taught him - but when he’s around his teammates, all efforts to cleanse his language flies out the window.

“We should’a blown ‘em out of the water, man,” Shawn’s friend Henry tells him. His own girlfriend looks at you with a bored expression and you crack a smile. You and her tend to stick together when Henry and Shawn get together and talk sports ; it’s not so much that you don’t care, it’s more just that you’d rather talk about something else. Your eyes begin to slip closed before the smile had even fallen from your face, and automatically your body curls closer into Shawn’s warm, buzzed body.

It doesn’t take long for him to notice you and your closer proximity. He licks his lips and ducks down to look closer at you. “You okay baby?” he asks you, brushing some tangled strands of hair out of your face with shaking hands.

You blink up at him for a second and nod. He smiles at you and starts to stand, offering his hand to you. You stumble to your feet and cling to his arm as he says his goodbyes and works his way through the pulsing, partying crowd. The music is louder over here and you become acutely aware of the headache already pounding at the base of your skull. Your eyes squeeze closed for a couple moments and you let Shawn guide you.

It’s chilly outside when the two of you break free of the house, and you don’t fight him when he wraps one of his many denim jackets over your shoulders. He’s shivering and he just got over that particularly nasty cold last week but you’re tired tired tired and don’t feel up to arguing with him about it. You’re swimming in the fabric, the hem of it brushing the middle of your thighs and the collar dipping far past your collarbones. There’s a safe feeling that wraps around your mind and makes your heart warm when you wear his clothes and you giggle into your sleeve-covered palm because he’s so so perfect and really pretty in just his t-shirt and some ripped skinny jeans.

You think he’s talking to you now, directing you where to walk, warning you of cracks in the sidewalk, but you tune him out. He tightens his grip on your arm as he presses a kiss to your head.

“Step, watch the step,” he tells you after unlocking the dorm building door. You walk ahead of him and wait patiently as he again uses his key for the elevator, and again for his dorm room. It’s really funny how he mumbles under his breath about how “stupid - these fucking stupid little keys for every fucking thing” and you giggle again, alcohol on your breath and running through your brain.

Shawn’s roommate transferred out at the beginning of the year so you’re his unofficial living-mate. The only difference is that you kiss a lot more and share a bed. And sometimes, on night’s like these, he’ll help you pull your shirt over your head and step out of your jeans and put a pair of sweats on, maybe paired with an old t-shirt. He’s learned how to tie your hair up in a bun - you taught him after one of his particularly terrible makeshift ponytails required a hair tie needing to be cut out of your hair.

He and his old roommate didn’t do that. Probably.

He and his old roommate didn’t make out on his mattress with whisky tongue and sloppy lip, him planking above you with the cold of his ring pressing into your bare hip. They didn’t laugh when he struggles to get your bra clasp undone, or when you accidentally bite down a bit too hard on his bottom lip. They didn’t love each other like you two do.

“F-fuck,” Shawn groans into your mouth, naked hips pressing against yours, mattress squeaking along to your movements. You squeeze your eyes shut as he goes faster faster faster and you tug harder on his hair, wrap your legs tighter around his waist and meet his thrusts with your own, more fluid ones. It’s raw and it’s quick and it’s sloppy but when you both come down from your highs and he’s right there, lying next to you and breathing heavy, you don’t really care about anything besides him.

“Sorry if it’s cold,” he says to you a few moments later, pressing a damp washcloth against your inner thighs, gently wiping away the mess he made. His lips press small kisses just below your belly button and you laugh lightly. The yellow light from the bathroom is the only thing keeping the room from being pitch black so all you can see is his silhoutte between your legs, familiar and strong and comforting. He kisses you one more time before standing again and tossing the cloth on his desk.

“Hey,” you slur, tapping his cheek with one of your fingers when he slides into bed beside you. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Shawn shakes his head with a soft smile and kisses you again, elbows on either side of your head, pressing into your pillow, filling your thoughts with nothing but him and you can’t imagine ever wanting it any other way.

please please please send in requests, and send your love too because you’ve all been so amazing and i’d love to hear from you. also!! please check out @ihaveabadreputation because she’s such a good writer and you just need to read her stuff. trust me. 

[biofunmy]

Social Climbing Has a Whole New Meaning

On a Friday evening last spring, Zack Woodruff picked up two college friends and drove seven hours down Interstate 65: through Indianapolis, bourbon country and the rolling hills of Appalachia.

In the middle of the night, they arrived at Miguel’s Pizza in Slade, Ky., and pitched tents in the backyard, near a gear shop that sells rock-climbing equipment. They were destined for the nearby Red River Gorge, a dramatic rocky cliff that Mr. Woodruff has explored eight or nine times.

But Mr. Woodruff, 28, a Ph.D. candidate in robotics at Northwestern University, lives in Chicago, so most of the time, he climbs at First Ascent, an indoor climbing gym with four locations in the city, where, he said, “a lot of grad students climb after work.”

Over the past five years, rock climbing has become a popular activity among young professionals and families, documented on social media and in films like “The Dawn Wall,” “Valley Uprising” and “Free Solo,” an Oscar winner that chronicled Alex Honnold’s ropeless ascent of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.

In 2016, rock climbing was added to the 2020 Olympics. New climbing gyms are mushrooming like cycling studios before them, and U.S.A. Climbing, the competition circuit, signed a multiyear broadcast deal with ESPN in January.

Popular street wear brands have been mining “old-school climbing stuff” from North Face, Patagonia, Eddie Bauer and L.L. Bean for inspiration, according to Matthew Schonfeld, 27, a climber who lives in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn and does marketing for Rowing Blazers.

“It’s a moment, you know?” said Jimmy Chin, 46, who directed “Free Solo” with his wife, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi. “These moments happen when a bunch of different variables all line up.”

According to Climbing Business Journal, which tracks gym openings nationally, the commercial climbing gym industry grew at a rate of 6.9 percent in 2016, 10 percent in 2017 and 11.8 percent in 2018.

“It does seem like the growth of the gym industry is continuing to trend upward,” said John Burgman, 38, a journalist who writes Climbing Business Journal’s annual report and coaches a youth climbing team in Carmel, Ind.

Most rock gyms look equal parts Flintstone and Jetson; visiting one feels like landing on a Technicolor planet, or exploring a cave bedecked with Fruity Pebbles.

There are two types of indoor climbing walls: bouldering walls, which are low enough that climbers can leap (or tumble) onto the mats without getting hurt; and rope-climbing walls, which tower over the bouldering walls and require harnesses and rope. In the most well-known form of rope-climbing, “top-roping,” partners on the ground “belay,” or gather the slack as you climb higher, so you won’t fall too far if you slip. The sport has its own arcane terminology, with difficulty ratings like V5.

Young professionals flock to these playgrounds after work because the exercise is intense, unstructured and sociable; the gyms may be one of the last urban locales where talking to strangers is encouraged.

Engineers in particular seem to be attracted to the sport, because each “boulder problem” of holds is a three-dimensional puzzle, and gyms reset them monthly to keep things spicy. (As part of its corporate wellness program, Google installed a rock wall in its New York offices in Chelsea, in 2013. Its Bay Area and Los Angeles offices have rock walls, too.)

And for parents, climbing is part of the so-called free-range-kids movement — with proper supervision, of course, the antithesis of the dreaded screens.

“If you walked in and saw my itty-bitty 5-year-old, you’d be like, Oh my gosh! She goes high. She goes to the top, and she’ll rappel,” said Megan Novotney, 36, a yoga teacher whose 6-year-old triplets also partake, sometimes rappelling down together while holding hands.

“When they’re bouldering, they don’t climb anything higher than what they know they’re capable of getting down from, and that was really awesome because it translated over to the park too” Ms. Novotney said. “I trust them, and they trust their bodies.”

Rock Steady, Baby

Adults, of course, are also relishing the chance to unplug themselves, and those not partial to yoga’s chants and group movement may find a more individualist escape on the wall.

“It’s active, it’s good for you, you have to try hard, it makes you feel very present in the moment,” Mr. Chin said of yoga, “and I think climbing does a lot of those things. It’s one of those activities where you do actually need to put your phone down and you do actually have to be engaged, and for some reason it’s easy to have conversations and talk to people you don’t know when you’re climbing.”

“When you’re climbing,” he said, “there’s also a certain level of vulnerability, because you’re scared and you’re all having a shared experience, especially if you’re trying the same climb.”

Growing up in Mankato, Minn., he didn’t know climbing existed. When he started, 25 years ago, “climbing was a pretty fringe activity,” he said, “and it was usually kind of like the misfits, who couldn’t play ball sports, or weren’t great at team sports.”

These days, there is a climbing gym in nearly every major city. Corporations like Touchstone Climbing, El Cap, First Ascent and Brooklyn Boulders have plans to build more.

Sasha DiGiulian, 27, is a three-time United States National Champion climber who helped design a climber emoji and now hosts high-end climbing wellness retreats in Kalymnos, Greece.

There, groups of 16 to 20 — often millennials from Silicon Valley, San Francisco and New York City — shell out $3,500 for luxury accommodations, four days of climbing with Ms. DiGiulian and three guides, dinners of freshly caught fish and ouzo, and a rest day swimming with wild dolphins.

Her clients are “young professionals looking for an experience,” she said, and since it is tough to switch from gym climbing to outdoor climbing, she created the retreat to “facilitate people’s transition.”

Ms. DiGiulian believes that the climbing industry is expanding in tandem with boutique fitness, citing Brooklyn Boulders’ boutique fitness branch in Boston, BKBX, which combines rock climbing with high-intensity interval training (HIIT).

“They’re opening these boutique studios that are dedicated to optimizing your fitness in order to ‘train for your next adventure,’ is their slogan,” she said. “They’re not even the traditional sense of climbing, it’s climbing broken down into a fitness class. That definitely didn’t exist even five years ago.”

Harley Pasternak, who trains celebrities including Ariana Grande, Kim Kardashian West and Gwyneth Paltrow, isn’t a fan of rock climbing. None of his clients do it, though climbing makes a few appearances in Goop.com’s travel pages.

“It’s really not a full-body workout,” Mr. Pasternak said, though many climbers argue otherwise. “Most of the muscles that people really need to strength-train — hamstrings, glutes, lower back, rhomboids, triceps — are not really worked during rock climbing. Rock climbing is mainly lats, forearms, quads and calves, so these are not going to contribute to better posture.”

Not to mention, he said, most people aren’t strong enough to hoist themselves up a wall without getting hurt.

“Keeping in mind the average American is significantly overweight, I would talk everyone I could out of rock climbing unless you are incredibly light, agile, fit and functional,” said Mr. Pasternak, 45. “There is a very small minority of this country that should be rock climbing.”

He pointed out that the British Journal of Sports Medicine tracked a 36 percent increase in rock climbing injuries from 2006 to 2015, 12 percent of which required hospitalization. Young men were most frequently injured.

Mr. Pasternak also pointed out the absurdity of humans constructing elaborate sheltered courses to challenge themselves

“That’s connecting with nature the same way that spinning in a room is connecting with nature,” he said. “They’re both contrived, artificial versions of the real thing without any connection to nature or the outdoors.”

Indoor climbing gyms can be expensive, especially in cities like New York and San Francisco. “Unless the commercial real-estate landscape changes, you can’t offer membership for less than $90” per month, said Michael Cesari, 39, the owner of Steep Rock Bouldering in New York. “It’s a bummer because when you go elsewhere, it’s not the case with indoor climbing.”

In other parts of the country, climbing has become so accessible that there are places that allow climbers to volunteer at the gym if they can’t afford a membership, like Memphis Rox in Tennessee, or YMCAs that offer it for free.

Polishing the Face

At Brooklyn Boulders, near one of the slanted bouldering walls — the shorter walls without ropes — a diverse group of young people were sitting on the mats and catching up on a recent Saturday while two dogs frolicked in the waiting area.

“We barely climb,” said Aaron Stack, a 30-year-old software engineer. “No one here actually likes climbing, we all just come here to hang out. The climbing is ancillary.” (He was joking: They’ve all been climbing for years, and have a weekly brunch after their workout.)

Unexpectedly, Saturday mornings are pretty quiet at Brooklyn Boulders and other gyms. Peak hours are weeknights after work, and the really serious climbers go in the morning before work.

Waiting patiently and considering courses has long been part of the indoor-climbing culture, and yet. “There’s always certain times when it’s crowded, but those crowded times have gotten more crowded,” said Michael Poyatt, 25, a software engineer in San Diego who started climbing after seeing “The Dawn Wall.”

Dan Bartz, 36, a founder of First Ascent in Chicago, said his company is trying to avoid crowding issues by opening new locations and requiring new members to attend orientation classes.

“I think there is the risk that you can have the longtime, established climbers and the newer climbers and there can be a tension between those two groups because the experienced climbers know how to behave in a climbing gym,” Mr. Bartz said. “They know where to stand, and they know how to share resources like routes or boulder problems.”

The majority of new climbers follow the rules, but some don’t. Mr. Stack witnessed an incident firsthand.

“One time, I saw these two people climbing, and it was their first time climbing, and it was on the overhung wall, and the one person fell and swung and knocked over the person belaying,” he said. “The one belaying stopped, took both of her hands off the rope, picked up her camera, and took a picture of her friend. There’s just been a huge influx of people with no clue what they’re doing.”

As a result, gyms have had to add extra safety programming; nearly all require climbers to sign a waiver and take a class before they can climb on their own.

In order to compete with the Equinoxes of the world, many climbing gyms offer weight rooms, cardio machines, yoga classes and Wi-Fi. Some are now also installing cafes and co-working spaces.

“Starbucks always talks about being people’s third place, and that’s really our goal too,” Mr. Bartz said. “People have home and they have work and we want to be that third place they go to and spend time connecting with people.”

Mr. Cesari likened the sport to snowboarding, whose addition to the Olympics, he pointed out, did not cause a lasting surge in popularity.

“For how many people will climbing be a lifelong sport, which they will then pass down to their kids? That’s the big question,” he said. “Of course people are going to change gyms, they’re going to move, but are they going to join another one? Or is it something that’s more of a temporary hobby?”

There is also a stereotype of the “boulder bro,” perhaps intermittently fasting to improve his agility, showing off his calluses, rocksplaining.

“If you want to climb really hard, you have to take your shirt off, and you have to wear a beanie,” Mr. Stack joked. “You also need a really big chalk bag, like twice this size, you leave it on the ground below you, preferably under where you’re climbing, so when you fall on it, it goes ‘poof!’ for dramatic effect.”

But in fact climbing is more diverse than ever. Brooke Raboutou, 18, made headlines earlier this year when she became the first American to qualify for the Olympics. “I would say that the climbing ratio of men to women is still about 60 percent to 40 percent,” Ms. DiGiulian said. “There are far more professional male climbers then there are professional female climbers, and I think the way climbing is changing, you are seeing a lot of people from different backgrounds getting into the sport and excelling.”

Though the sport is still overwhelmingly white, organizations like Brown Girls Climb, Melanin Base Camp, Brothers of Climbing and Color the Crag help climbers of color connect with one another.

Anna Marie Jennings, 23, met her closest friends in New York through Climb Like a Girl classes at Brooklyn Boulders. “Finding a group of women to climb with was really great because the gym is intimidating as it is, whether there’s all men around or all women around or whatever, just the nature of it can be overwhelming if you’re new,” she said. “It is very physical and people watch you, so that’s intimidating no matter who you’re around.”

“There are still times where I walk in and you’ll see, for lack of a better term, the bro-y guys muscle their way up a really hard boulder problem, and I may not be able to do it from strength,” she said. “But I might have more flexibility or balance.”

Ms. DiGiulian has been a pioneer for women in the sport, and grew up climbing the Red River Gorge, where Mr. Woodruff and his friends camped in Kentucky. A high point of her career was achieving a climb there called Pure Imagination, one of the hardest to be finished by a woman.

This “used to be one of the poorest districts within Kentucky, and now it’s blooming with business,” she said. “When I started going to Miguel’s, it used to be a little ice cream stand. Now I’ll be in countries like France and Spain and see someone wearing a Miguel’s Pizza Shop T-shirt.”

Dario Ventura, 35, the co-owner and manager of Miguel’s, said that since his father Miguel went into business 35 years ago, foot traffic has grown “exponentially.”

To adapt, Miguel’s Pizza renovated its kitchen and country-store restaurant, tripled the size of its campsite, and now employs a staff of 42 mostly transient climbers, many of whom live out of vans, like Alex Honnold in “Free Solo.”

The local community in Slade has also adapted. Nowadays, Mr. Ventura said, there are three search-and-rescue teams that respond to calls in the Red River Gorge, where previously, there weren’t any. “The whole area has grown too, there’s a ton of restaurants now, there’s a ton of campsites to compete, and we’re all full every weekend,” he said. “It’s a really healthy environment.”

However, the gorge has been subject to littering and crag erosion from the crowds. There have been efforts by the Access Fund, a nonprofit climbing organization, to maintain the bolts in the rocks so they don’t wear down from overuse and pop out dangerously while climbers are on the rocks.

Mr. Ventura marveled at all this activity. “For so many years, you got into rock climbing because you had some crazy uncle that took you out, but with climbing gyms being so accessible and everywhere now, there’s this giant funnel of people that are getting into climbing in urban areas and come here on the weekends,” he said.

And yet “I’ve heard some numbers where something like 10 percent of all people that climb in a climbing gym actually go climbing outside. Which is mind-boggling to me.”

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[grapsandclaps]

GRAPS AND CLAPS REVIEWS FUTURESHOCK RELOADED 4

Hello everyone!! Welcome to the review of Show 96 of the #100showyear which took me to the quaint venue of 53two in Manchester under the arches of Deansgate featuring Jay Lethal vs Xander Cooper & T-Bone vs Champion Ashton Smith in a Manchester Bullrope Match.

Arriving in Manchester at around 3pm it gave me a little bit of time to sample some of the pubs in the city which I don't get to visit that often for a change. Constantly travelling into Manchester it is sometimes hard to get away from the same old boozers and you end up feeling like Groundhog Day.

First port of call was going to be The Brink but for some reason the shutters were down, even though it said on the door open from 12 Noon, but when it is open this pub has been a great addition to the scene with all the drinks locally sourced for nearby breweries at a cost of £3 - £4 a pint.

So with that pub shut, I walked across the road to The Gas Lamp which as you go down the stairs, makes it look like you are visiting one of them old war shelters - very rustic. A good range of beer and bottles are on offer here but I do feel over the last year or so that the prices have shot up a bit, either that or I'm just a tightarse. A pint of 4.2% Brewsmith pale was had here at a cost of £3.30 a pint - ok pint but nothing outstanding.

A short walk down Deansgate took me to The Cask Bar which is another small boozer offering a number of belgian lagers, cask ale and a good jukebox. Here I had a pint of Thornbridge 4.8% Lucifer Ale at a cost £3.70, which was like most Thornbridge drinks - a safe pair of hands.

Next up was the Knott bar which has had a change around with its beer taps with the keg drinks now on the back wall with a range of 25 keg beer which is maybe if not the biggest in Manchester. 2/3rds of a Blackjack 7% Double IPA at a cost of £4.70 and a pint of 4% Dan's Brewery Ekuanot Ale were had here and I would say the 7% Double IPA won the days drinking with a smooth fruity taste this was a very good IPA.

With the clock ticking at 510pm, we decided to try a new bar which we have never been before, which was Lock 91 on Deansgate. This is very cubihole in size with a bar and two small seating areas, drink prices were £3 for Coors, £4.95 for Pravha and Wolf Rock respectively, I went for a pint of the Wolf Rock which was decent. Maybe I will visit this drinking hole again if fancying a change from the norm.

Arriving at 53two it was time to take my front row seat on the woodenless floor so no ear deafening stamping like a elephant (thanks to Simon) for the evening. A crowd of just over 100 were in attendance for what initially on paper looked a good card still despite the withdrawal of Kenny Williams who was missing due to 'circumstances', so lets see what went down.

First up was a legacy tournament match with Futureshock academy graduate JJ Webb facing The Nordic Islands No.1 Accountant Thomas Wolfe. This was an ok start to proceedings with Wolfe getting the upper hand early on his opponent, until 6 minutes in JJ made the comeback working on Wolfe's leg and then locked in the crab to make Wolfe Howl enough for the surprise tapout victory.

Mr Long Legs Abel Stevens was out next complaining about how shit Christmas is and how over hyped it is, I could see out of the corner of my eye Halloweens No.1 fan Shauna was nodding in approval.

Abel offered anyone in the back to come out and challenge him to a match for the evening prompting 'The One Man Blackpool Bin Man' James Drake to come out. This was a good 10 minute match with both guys getting in a good amount of offence, but it was Drake who would get the win here and then proceed to stuff Abel in the black bin to add insult to injury. Many a photo opportunity was had here with people in Drake shirts to rub further salt in the wound for Abel.

Drake as a good guy I am a big fan of more than his heel persona in Progress, maybe because he is a bit outshined next to Heel magnet Zack Gibson. But good guy Drake is going to go places.

3rd match was Joey Hayes facing an uphill task, once the sound of stomps and sirens sounded with the Monster Cyanide making his entrance. This was like one of them 1990s Big Van Vader batterings with Cyanide dominating for 98% of the match with Joey trying to make the valiant but to no avail as he succoumbed to the Choke Backbreaker more commonly known as 'TOXIC DEATH'. Cyanide could be well due for a title shot soon.

Half time main event was Adrenaline Champion Xander Cooper vs ROH Star Jay Lethal. This went well over 15 minutes in an excellent encounter despite the occassional interference from Bobby Gage who was told by Xander at the start of the match that he didn't want Little Daddy Walter to help him. But it was with Gage's help in the end in which Xander picked up the victory over Lethal and he now goes on to face Will Ospreay at the year end show in Prestwich on the 28th December. Certainly watch this back on demand, probably Xanders best match in Futureshock and another in the line of Adrenaline Title corkers - maybe the best title in the UK at the moment from a match quality standard.

Legacy tournament time with that young scamp Bubblegum replacing Kenny Williams, Gum was playing the cocky Man City Heel that is still great today as it was a couple of years ago when I first saw it, it shows the talent of the guy. His opponent was Former Adrenaline Champion Soner Durson who had to keep one eye on his arch nemesis Sam Bailey who was doing commentary sat behind me.

As you can guess shenanigans a plenty with Bailey ringing the timekeepers bell whilst Durson was trying to get the win. Which prompted Soner to get distracted enough to fall to Bubblegum and a loss inside 15 minutes. As expected this was a fantastic match between two of the North Wests best all around.

We were supposed to have Womens title actiom next with Champion Lana Austin facing Molly Spartan in a rematch from a couple of months ago. But Lana was attacked from behind at the entrance way by the former Bete Noire and her and Spartan beat poor Lana down and promptly throw their names in the hat for a possible title match.

Main event with Ashton Smith and T-Bone was originally build as a Title Chain match but was changed to a Bullrope match due to the local B&Q not stocking Chains on a Sunday. Bullrope matches tend to be slow affairs but this was far from it, with both Ashton Smith and T-Bone making a lot of use of the outside areas including the hardest part of many sides of the ring.

With the tension reaching fever pitch at the 15 minute marker with the scores at 3-3, it got tense for the fight for the 4th buckle but it was Ashton who booted Bone out of the way to jump and hit the 4th buckle to regain his title. Cracking main event and a fitting end to a decent show.

Drink prices were £4 a pint from a Brightside Brewery ale.

In closing, Futureshock have continued their run of great shows this year and I would go as far to say it has been up there in the UK Promotion of the Year stakes on the quiet.

You have a consistently hot crowd, a secondary title which has been put on the same pedestal as the main title. Around £12-£15 General entry, good matches and the cream of the North West scene mixed with some of the more familiar UK names.

Make sure you go and get a ticket for theor December 28th show at Prestwich or even go and see one of theirs show next year, you won't be unhappy #grapsandclaps.