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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all! Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#percy jackson x sister reader #sally jackson x daugther reader #demigod reader #fem reader #reader insert #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the lightning thief reader insert #percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the titans curse #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the greek gods #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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sweeethinny · 3 years

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’'Do you always stare at others like that?” For hinny please :D (even better if its an au but cannon is also pretty sweet) :D :D

it was a lot of fun to write, maybe mainly because I love to think about Harry being an artist, and I love even more, writing about art in general. I hope you enjoy! <3

A red strand here, an orange strand there, so she had brown streaks falling under her shoulders that made her look like Harry's goddess, all mixed up in colors and also looked like a sunset between the trees.

Her eyes had that brown tint that he had to dilute three inks to get an approximate color, even though maybe he needed a little more yellow and who knows, very little more of a more closed red. But Harry was content with that color that had arrived.

Her skin was more rosy, which was perhaps a little because of her beautiful red hair, and her cheeks were always a shade more pink than the rest of her face, as if she was always flushed (or had sunbathed too much), making the freckles in that region look so much more alive and flashy, that he wanted to run his hand over her skin, as if he expected to feel the warmth.

He was doing a good job. Looking at the real her again, and noticing how focused she was on her book, turning the pages and smiling in the corner with whatever was written on the pages; Of course, the real Ginny was much prettier than the one on Harry's canvas, but he was doing a good job.

''Do you always stare at others like that?’’' She looked up just as he was staring at her, trying to figure out what her lip colors would be like, a mixture of Indian red with another color that Harry hadn't yet defined which one would be.

‘’Just you.’’ He said, hiding again behind the big canvas he was painting, facing the other Ginny, this time, the one he painted with such affection.

''I know I'm your inspirational muse, but you make me uncomfortable.'' She stretched out her feet on the bench she was sitting on, her hair taking on new orange highlights now that Ginny had turned on her side, the sunrise Parisian shining behind her as if crowning a Goddess.

Aphrodite would be jealous of her.

''I thought you were used to it.'' He smiled, painting more freckles on her face, emphasizing the one on top of her lip that he loved to suck on when they kissed.

'’I think I never will. It's weird to see you staring at me while you paint.’’ She drank her tea, Harry’s white shirt turning a little transparent against the rising sunlight, giving him a privileged view of her bare breasts hidden precariously by the fabric.

''What are you reading? Has the Duke of Clevedon gone after Marcelline?’’ Harry started to focus on her lips, smiling in love with the painting in front of him.

‘’Yes, and of course he forgot about Clara.’’ She moved to the other sheet, focused on the book, even though he sometimes caught Ginny looking out of the corner of her eye. ‘’What are you painting? What made you get out of bed at four in the morning to start painting like crazy, when you could have stayed in bed with me?'' She finally looked at him, leaving the book open in her lap, but now paying full attention to him. The sky behind her was almost completely pink, the sun getting higher and higher in the clouds.

‘’It is the last frame of the exhibition. But don't see, I want it to be a surprise.’’ He stopped her before she could get up to sit next to him as she usually did. She sometimes laid her head on his lap and slept while Harry painted, or lay there, talking about everything and nothing, and other times, she just sat next to him, watching him paint.

‘’Aren’t you really going to tell me what this whole collection of paintings is about?’’ Her bare foot went up and down Harry’s leg, her touch seeming to ignite his skin. ‘’Am I not even going to get a little spoiler?''

''No. Nothing.’’ Harry concentrated on her neck, skipping the freckles there. ‘’I like to see your face when everything is ready and hanging on the walls.’’

‘’You’re so boring,’’ Gin snorted, lying on the bench and disappearing out of his sight, leaving him with only the window that have a beautiful view of Paris. The breakfast table was littered with Harry's paints and supplies, as well as the newspaper and some of Ginny's papers, scattered in the usual clutter that only they understood.

Such a mess that had made Harry paint 10 pictures inspired by their lives, the mess they made before finally accepting that they should be together, and the roller coaster of feelings that it had been until that moment. The whole exhibition was created over the more than 10 years that they had been together, and especially the idea of love, which Harry now had.

It was like watching a book unfold with each art; the restaurant on the corner of the library where she worked, which they met; the cafe where Harry took her for their first date (which was not planned, but which she insisted on saying was their first date); the romance section where they gave their first kiss - and for this one, Harry drew a blurred couple kissing in the background; a room full of sculptures and canvases, which was when Ginny went to his work to say that she was leaving, and consequently, where Harry realized he loved her; the way to her parents' house; the airport with the vision he had of when he saw her plane leaving for Paris, where she would go to work; his boarding pass to Paris; the bouquet of jasmine he bought, that there was a bee in the middle and that stung Ginny in the nose (and in this one, he made sure to draw her in the background with a red nose); the jewelry store with their engagement ring in the window; the vision he had of the altar, while waiting for it; and finally, Ginny.

All paintings had little, if not all, of Ginny's appearance (even if blurry), her hair flying in the background, her hand or something that reminded her of her.

Seeing little pieces of their life scattered around the pictures, made Harry want to declare his love for who knows what time, already lost on how many times he had tried to make her cry or blush with his words, just to laugh and fill her with kisses later, getting even more in love.

‘’Gin,’’ Harry called out to her, and she got up from the bench, with that messy hair of someone who had woken up at five in the morning to be with her husband while he was painting, after a night that had been well spent. ''I love you.''

‘’Awn, Harry, I know,’’ She laughed, bending under the table to squeeze his cheeks, like she did with their godchildren. ''I love you too. Even if you don't show me what you're creating here.'' Ginny sat down again, the sky behind already bluish, reflecting off her hair and making it look more reddish, and definitely showing how translucent the fabric of his shirt was against the light. . ‘’My eyes are up here, my boy.’’

‘’I know.’’ Harry dropped the brush, deciding that there was nothing else to do when the paint was wet, and that he should wait a few hours to do the finishing touches.

‘’Don’t you need to finish this?’’ Ginny pointed to the canvas, but also closed the book and placed it on the table.

‘’I have two more days to deliver,’’ He walked over to her, picking her up as if she weighed nothing, hearing her squeak of surprise. ‘’We have more important things to do now.’’ And then he stepped away from the dinner room, ready to go back to the warm, cozy bed and enjoy the first hours of the day in the best possible way.

#hinny #hinny au #harry x ginny #Harry and Ginny #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #hp au

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Akio

CW: References to the death of a friend, grief, suicide, murder

Sequel to Found Out and this past flashback to Oliver Branch

The sound of thin, breaded pork cutlets frying in the big pan on the stove fills the air, and Akio breathes in the familiar smell where he lays on his back on his parents’ gigantic cream-colored sectional couch, stretched out across the whole length of it on one side. Not that he’s all that tall to take up all that much space, really, but what matters is that he would definitely have fallen asleep by now if it weren’t for holding his phone up over his face.

It fell on him, once, and he’s pretty sure no one noticed. Emi, his younger sister, hasn’t even looked up once from her own phone, except once to triumphantly announce that no one caught her and they all voted someone else off the ship. Then she looked back down and never looked back up.

Akio frowns, looking at his own screen, tapping his thumbs as he writes out an answer to the person messaging him. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” His mother looks up from cooking, her eyes moving through the big open space right to him. They’d knocked down all the walls when they bought the house, open-concept-something-something. Akio didn’t care, but it was apparently deeply important to his parents. Something about family togetherness.

“You remember Tristan Higgs, right?”

Aimi pauses, tucks a bit of her short black hair behind one ear to get it out of her eyes as she flips the pork cutlets on by one, to get the other side nicely browned, too. The sizzling ratchets up in volume and then back down again. Next to her sits four bowls already filled with rice, and the table already has the vegetables ready to go. “Of course, honey. Oh, the anniversary’s coming up, isn’t it? I have an alarm set on my phone… did you want to go to the cemetery next week to see Ronnie and Paul?”

“Ew, no creepy graveyards for me, thanks,” Emi says, eyes still glued to her phone.

“We wouldn’t take you anyway,” Akio says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t even remember Tris or his parents.”

“I do, too. I was like seven. He was really nice. Mrs. Higgs was really nice, too. Mr. Higgs was weird.”

“Wow, what a stellar eulogy that was, Emi. I can see why you want to be a writer when you grow up. The description there was just incredible.”

“Oh, go drive into a lake,” Emi says, without any particular rancor in her voice.

“If you’re going to fight, I’m going to send you two upstairs so I at least don’t have to listen to it,” Aimi says, moving the cutlets to rest on a paper plate with paper towels lining it while she heats mirin, soy sauce, and… some other stuff in a different pan. Honestly, Akio has no idea exactly how katsudon happens, all he cares about is that it’s the perfect after-practice food and he is starving.

Except he keeps getting distracted by this guy on Insta. “Anyway, Mom, um, about Tris. So… yeah, I do want to go out and see his parents next week, yeah, but-... there’s this guy on Instagram who keeps asking about him. That’s… that’s weird, right?”

Aimi looks up, blinking. “Asking about Tristan? What is he asking?”

“Just like… he says he saw the video I put up on youtube, and he’s asking, like… what was his birthday, and did he like fried chicken, was he autistic, and… did he like musical soundtracks. This is weird stuff to ask a total stranger, right?”

“A little.” Aimi pauses while she watches the pan, and then pours a small bowl with beaten eggs into it, watching them spread and start to lighten to a puffy yellow as it cooked in the already-boiling liquid mixture. “Did you ask why he wants to know?”

“I did, but he just said he’s doing some research or something. But, like… research on what?” Akio taps on the guy’s little profile photo, bringing the profile itself up. “His username is benthebadmagician. Okay that’s-... that’s kind of cute.”

Aimi’s voice turns sly. “Is this Ben cute?”

“Ugh, gross, Mom. That’s not-... I mean he’s kind of-... that’s not important.”

“Ooooh, eyeballin’ the insta-hotties,” Emi singsongs. “Aki’s gettin’ desperate. Just get a freaking dating app like everyone else.”

“Already on it, Emi.”

“Then why exactly don’t you get any dates? Oh, right.” Emi sits forward and grins. “I forgot about your personality.”

Akio throws a throw pillow at her and the big orange poof misses by a mile. Emi laughs, getting to her feet and wandering over to the fridge, pulling a can of soda out and popping the top. “Aren’t you an athlete, how the hell did you miss that?”

“Language,” Aimi warns, waving a spoon at her daughter. She gently places the cutlets into the cooking eggs to finish up. “No swearing under my roof, young lady.”

“Aki swears all the time!”

“Aki is twenty-four years old,” Aimi says, almost primly. “And he doesn’t swear where I can hear him.”

“What, so it doesn’t count if you don’t hear him?”

“Of course it doesn’t, how do I know if I don’t hear him?”

Akio smiles, faintly, but he’s scrolling through the Ben guy’s instagram feed now. Just looking at the grid of squares, photos and videos. Lots of coffees and food, people laughing, photos of a girl with really pretty hair. Photos of Ben the Bad Magician himself. Nerd, Akio thinks, but cute nerd - definitely nose-in-a-book type. Nice brown hair, nice smile.

“Oh look at that face,” Emi says, eyebrows raised. “Ben the Insta-Weirdo actually is cute huh?”

“Go eat slugs.” Akio keeps scrolling down and down, not sure what he’s looking for. Autism awareness banners - he checks those to learn the Ben guy’s got an autistic little brother, and his friend Christopher is autistic. There’s a couple slides, and he swipes his finger to what he assumes is a photo of the Ben guy with the little brother, who looks almost exactly like him, just a whole bunch younger and looking, unsmiling, off to one side while Ben grins at the camera.

Akio doesn’t bother checking the last slide - it’s probably just whoever the Chris guy is. He backs back out to the grid of thumbnails. Maybe he just picked up on the stuff Tris always did when he was excited, and got curious? Maybe his little brother liked the video? Akio’s gotten a couple comments from people saying they liked seeing an autistic kid just be fucking happy in public without getting shit on for it, and that used to be a big deal for Mrs. Higgs, too...

The question about musicals keeps snagging at him. Tris loved musicals, went through cycles with them. He and Akio had a whole routine done to a song in Hairspray, just for fun, when Tris was obsessed with that for a while. And then they were going to do the Time Warp as a routine once...

Akio keeps scrolling, only vaguely aware of his sister and mother talking, and Emi leaving the room to go call their dad in for dinner.

Emi stops in the doorway and turns back. “Don’t forget to get his phone number, Aki. You can definitely trust strangers on the internet creepily interested in your dead best friend, right?”

Akio looks up, then, blinking at her. “Emi, that’s-...”

She seems to catch herself, and gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Aki. That got bitchy.”

“Language,” Aimi reminds her. “But I appreciate you apologizing. Does anyone even hear me say to use nice language any longer?”

“No,” Akio and Emi say in unison, and then Emi disappears down the hallway, bellowing for their father in her loudest voice even though she could easily walk up the stairs and not have to yell at all.

Akio looks at his mother and deadpans, “Your daughter is really weird.”

Aimi matches him tone for tone. “Your sister is weirder.”

She places the cutlets on top of the rice bowls with the egg just underneath the meat, carrying them one by one to the table, setting them each down in their place, and then grabs her glass of wine, patiently waiting for her while she cooked. She pads on bare feet across the hardwood floor over to the pale white rug, soft as down underfoot, and stands next to where Akio is laying down. “Are you looking at the profile?”

“I am, yeah. I don’t know what I’m looking for, really, just… hey, wait.” Akio stops at the thumbnail preview for a video, tapping to open it up. It starts with a blue-haired boy smiling, and his smile hits Akio all odd, makes his throat tighten and his heart start to race. The boy in the video puts up a finger and backs up, glances over his shoulder at a TV screen behind him playing the tango scene from Rent.

Akio blinks as the boy holds out a hand and a girl with really gorgeous long wavy hair takes it, the two of them moving effortlessly into a perfect mimicry of the dance on screen. The room they’re in is mostly empty, furniture shoved to the walls to turn what looks like some kind of lobby into a dancing space.

“Wow, that kid can really dance,” Akio murmurs, but the smile catches him, tugs at the back of his mind. The blue-haired boy can’t keep the grin off his face, it has to hurt to smile so big for so long, and the last person Akio thought that about was…

“You got this, Chris!” Someone calls from offscreen, and for a second Akio hears Tris and catches his breath, but no, no, they said Chris. Someone else claps for Mari - that must be the girl, maybe.

They continue to dance, and Akio can’t tear his eyes away. “Mom? Do you see this?”

Aimi looks up from straightening some magazines on the coffee table and leans over, sipping her wine absently. “See what, honey?”

“Look,” Akio whispers. His throat is closing up, he can’t manage anything more than that.

The two do a spin, and then burst out laughing, and the Chris boy stands back up straight, throwing his arms up like he’s just hit a perfect landing-

“Oh my god,” Aimi says next to him, her own voice strangled and choked, and Akio feels his mother’s hand suddenly clutch onto his shoulder. “Aki, is-”

“He’s dead,” Akio whispers. “He killed himself after his parents-... he’s dead, Mom.”

The Chris boy looks right at whoever was filming the video, shoots them a brilliant, shining smile, and then starts rocking, his hands moving through the air and twisting at the wrists, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Akio’s breath is shuddering in and out, and his heart pounds, trying to break out of his chest. “He’s-... Mom, he’s dead.”

“His aunt had him cremated,” Aimi says, but her lips are barely moving and the wineglass is loos in her fingers. “After they found him. She didn’t want a funeral.”

“He’s dead,” Akio repeats, thinking of the smile, the movements, the shy way he ducks his head at the end when people clap him on the back. He backs up to the wall again, keeps scrolling, looks for more pictures of the blue hair. He opens every single one he can find, searching for something, some sign that will tell him he’s not seeing what he knows he’s seeing. “His aunt took his phone away after like three months and then he was dead a month later, wasn’t he?”

There’s a pause.

“Mom? Mom, didn’t he kill himself like four months after they died? Didn’t he?” Akio’s voice sounds weak and is getting weaker. “Mom, please-... please answer me, didn’t he-”

“He left a note,” Aimi whispers. “His aunt-... she said he left a note, that he couldn’t live without them. It’s-... I never thought-... I never thought to question her, Aki, I never-... she was Ronnie’s family...”

He clicks another video.

“You’re a fucking mess, Christopher,” The girl from the dance video says, sitting in a tank tops and shorts on the edge of a bathtub. “Letting your roots grow out like that. But don’t you worry, Madam Mari is here to help!”

“Please don’t, don’t don’t-don’t call yourself Madam. Please?” A voice says, uneasily, and the blue-haired boy moves into the screen. “For, for, for me?”

“Yeah, no problem, Chris. Why’d you let it grow out so bad, anyway?”

His hair’s not blue in this one - or it is, but only about half of it. Pale and faded, but the top of his hair has grown back in for about three inches, and it’s coppery strawberry blond. He turns to the camera and gives a sheepish smile. “I, I got distracted and for, um, forgot.”

Aimi’s wineglass slips from her fingers, hits the floor, sprays wine like blood across the pristine white rug.

Neither of them notices.

“I… I cried for him for like a year straight,” Akio chokes out, and he finds more pictures, more videos, more more more. He opens them up and then backs out of them again, unable to stop himself. Every photo shows him some shard of the mirror reflection of a dead boy all grown up - a sparkle of green eyes, happy motions in the background of a video, more of that familiar sunny smile. “I kept-... I kept all the stuff he left in my room, I saved all h-his text messages from before he d, disappeared, I-”

“This can’t be him,” Aimi says in a fierce whisper. “It can’t be, Aki, it can’t.”

Akio taps on another video.

The boy ties his long blue hair back in it, glancing sidelong at the camera, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And, and, and you’ll, um, you’ll buy the, the, the-the-the nachos?”

“If you can still do it? Yeah, absolutely. Seeing that’s worth a plate of nachos to me. I’ll even buy you those fucking margaritas you like.”

“Chris just likes the sugar,” Someone else says, and Chris sticks his tongue out at them.

He takes a few steps back, rolling his shoulders, shaking out his arms.

Akio tells himself that if the Chris on the screen doesn’t nail this, it can’t be him, it can’t be him at all.

The boy puts his hands up, then down at his sides, back bowed briefly in a motion Akio knows too, too well, knows better than he knows breathing. The boy takes off across the grass without hesitation and-

Akio and Aimi both exhale.

-he jumps forward, dips at the waist, catches himself on his hands and does a perfect set of three backflips across a big grassy lawn, stumbling the landing but his feet pop right back into final position, and he throws his arms up with his chin lifted, and someone offscreen shouts, “Perfect Ten, Stanton!”

The boy laughs, shakes his head, says, “I’d be, be, be dinged for the, um, the landing, but-... but, but good, right? I did good? Laken?”

Someone with the coolest hair Akio has seen steps into the screen and they hug, kiss briefly, and then Chris apparently can’t handle the happy emotions because he backs away to start bouncing up and down, grinning.

He looks back at the camera. “Want to see me, me, me... me do it again?”

“He’s not dead,” Aimi says, and her voice sounds like someone closed their hands around her throat. “Oh, Ronnie-”

“What the fuck happened to Tristan fucking Higgs?” Akio’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the video starting over. “He’s… he’s not dead. He’s not dead, Mom, he’s not-... he’s not dead, Mom, he’s not dead and he’s right-... that the university, right? He’s not dead, and he’s, has he-... has he been here the whole fucking time?”

His mother doesn’t chide him for language this time. Her hand tightens on Akio’s shoulder as red wine soaks the rug beneath her feet and she whispers, “Give that Ben boy your number. Tell him to call you.”

Her fingernails ache where they dig into his skin through his shirt.

“Now.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #hidden whumpee #found whumpee #trauma recovery #parental death mention #death mention #suicide mention #angst #bbu #box boy #box boy universe

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star-lemonade · 3 years

Text

The Festival (1/3)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader

Cw: fluff, cross dressing

Rating: T (Series R)

Word count: 3.2 k

Junhee was one of the most attractive people you knew. He was good looking, yes, but that was not the main source of his attractiveness. Somehow he always left you with the impression that he cared about people and put others before himself. You never told anyone but it would be nice to have someone care about you. Taking care of him for a change would be nice too. He seemed like he could use someone being there for him. You sometimes spoke in the company kitchen, but you never met outside of work. Maybe, one day, you would ask him out. Maybe.

That day your business trip took you out to a city you had not been to before. It was only a few hours away by car but you never had a reason to come here. The conference would last for three days, Wednesday to Friday. On the first evening there were some unofficial meetings, but soon the parties moved from the hotel to the city. A historical festival was taking place in the city center. The crowd was a mixture of people wearing modern clothing and hanboks. A lot of the vendors were also dressed in historical clothing. The streets were illuminated by lamps that looked like lanterns with open fire at first glance. The moving orange and yellow bands gave the illusion of flames. Foods from the different booths filled the streets with mouthwatering smells.

You noticed that you had lost the rest of the conference people while exploring the festival. Your stomach began to rumble. It was time to eat something. The selection was a bit overwhelming so you entered the nearest food stand that had some tables. Even here the historical feel was present. The low tables stood on elevated platforms with the guests sitting on cushions on the platforms. You sat down at the only free table. The waitress wore a beautiful hanbok, but the stress of working at a festival was written in the lines of her young face.

You ordered something to drink and to eat. Your drink arrived fast and you were thankful for it. You were starving but the drink filled your stomach at least temporarily.

Your eyes followed that waitress as she served food to another table. Two women in hanboks sat there. They looked like they were related, maybe they were sisters? One wore blue, the other green.

When the waitress approached them, you could see the face of the sister in green in front view. She looked familiar, but you did not know from where you knew her. You looked away so as to not get caught staring. Your food came and the mystery woman was forgotten. Your basic needs had to be satisfied. It tasted better than it probably was. Junhee. Junhee! That was who the woman looked like. The thought came so suddenly you almost dropped your spoon. He had sisters, that much you knew but did they live here? It’s probably a coincidence.

You finished your meal and decided to move on. The air in the plastic tent was too thick and hot to have a clear thought.

You left the restaurant wondering if it was just your brain seeing Junhee everywhere. Yes that must be it. Lately he had been on your mind a lot. He was a bit clumsy, but there was something charming about that too. Oh man, I have a crush on Junhee, don’t I?

You heard your name from behind you. The woman in the green stood behind you.

“Can we talk?”

Without saying a word you walked away from the crowds of the festival. You felt the tension of the other person and did not dare to speak up. Around a corner a dark patch came into view. The banks of the river were emptier than the streets with its booths. You stopped at one of the benches overlooking the river.

“I guess I should explain.”

Junhee‘s voice was softer than usual. You were sure now that it was him(?).

“You don’t have to. It’s none of my business.”

Junhee seemed to think otherwise. He(?) pressed his(?) lips into a thin line, but did not say anything. Whatever question came to your mind, seemed inappropriate to ask, but the silence began to weigh you.

“That’s a nice hanbok. It looks good on you.”

It was true and Junhee smiled a little.

“Thank you.”

He(?) looked down at the gravel path that spanned the river bank down to the small pedestrian bridge.

“I like being a man.”

He paused, thinking. You did not dare to say anything. This was a very private moment and even sitting on this bench, so close to Junhee felt almost too intimate. He did not have to tell you anything. Junhee nodded more to himself.

“But going out like this. It feels good.”

You touched his arm.

“You really don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I should.”

He insisted.

“Why? If it makes you uncomfortable? Don’t worry I will not tell anyone.”

“Because ..”

He looked away. The river gurgled and a couple strolled by, talking about something. Junhee stood up. His fist clutching the fabric of the hanbok.

“Let’s meet again tomorrow.”

You simply nodded and Junhee took off into the night.

You returned to the hotel tired and worried. The way Junhee had fled earlier did not leave your mind. You typed “Are you okay?” into your phone. I don’t want to bother him. The cursor whipped the message off the screen.

After a restless night your phone woke you up at 6:30 am the next morning. You had rolled from one side to the other but the unfamiliar bed had made it hard to sleep. Now It was time to meet some old business men. The shower helped to wake you up properly and the breakfast buffet in the hotel’s dining room looked better than expected. You filled your plate with everything that appealed to you in that moment and sat down at an empty table for two. None of the other conference goers were to be seen, so you could enjoy your meal. Your phone lay screen down on the table. How is Junhee doing? You picked it up and looked at the messaging app. Would it be good to text him?

“I hope I didn’t offend you yesterday. I’m sorry, if I did.”

It wasn’t the best thing one could say but needed to say it. You could not stand the thought of Junhee being hurt.

“I hope you are okay.”

Of course he did not reply right away. It was still early morning and he was probably sleeping. The next time you had a chance to look at your phone was during the “coffee and networking” break at 9:30 am.

“You didn’t. I’m okay. Let’s meet today. I have time around noon.”

It was not exactly the right thing to do but you excused yourself after the last talk of the morning session and left. The dinner would be more important, it would be okay if you missed the lunch buffet.

Junhee looked fantastic. He wore a brown leather jacket and his dark hair looked freshly cut. You were not sure which version of him looked more attractive, the one with the fake lashes or the one with the leather jacket.

The restaurant was empty. It was a bit too early for most people to eat. You basically had the place to yourselves. You chewed on your lip.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday.”

It was literally the last thing you expected to hear. His shoulders were slumped. It made him look smaller than he actually was.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable!”

Maybe it came out a bit too fast because Junhee did not look convinced. You wanted to say how much you liked him but how would that look? He may take that as just a thing you said to get out of this situation or worse. What if he thought you only said you liked him, now that you had seen him cross dressing. Was it okay that you had liked it so much?

“Really, it’s all good. It is all good between us right?”

Your tone got more uncertain towards the end. You did not have that much of a relationship with him yet, but you could not stand the thought of him avoiding you.

“You don’t find that weird?” He licked his lips. “That I like to wear women’s clothes?”

His shoulders were tense. What you were about to say next would determine how this thing would go.

“No. You are an amazing person no matter what you decide to wear.”

A blush crept onto his face.

A waitress appeared. You had completely forgotten that this was a restaurant. It had felt like it was only you and him.

When the waitress left with your order, Junhee leaned towards you.

“Can I ask you something?”

Something in his tone made you perk up. Usually this question preceded a not so usual question.

“Only if I can ask you something too.”

He nodded.

“Do you… hm .. is it possible that you.. like me?”

Your mind went blank. He looked at you from the other side of the table. The little beauty mark on his cheek was something that was easy to look at. Did he mean like as in like like? Your next answer could be game changing, for better or for worse.

“Yes, I like you a lot.”

Now you could just cross your fingers and hope that being honest was the right course of action. You did not want to look at him in fear that he would reject you.

The waitress was back with your drinks and it gave both of you a bit of time. Junhee’s whole face was red and it was cute.

“What question did you wanted to ask me?”

So he was just not going to address this? Okay. Okay. You felt your face burn but also did not have the courage to ask him how he felt about you.

“Did your ex know about you cross dressing? Does anyone know?”

It clearly was not the question he had expected, you could tell by the pause that followed. He looked at his drink.

“My ex knew but she didn’t like it much. She didn’t give me a hard time because either. It just wasn’t something we talked about much. My sisters know of course. My parents were a bit worried in the beginning, they are a little old fashioned.”

You nodded. Junhee had broken up with his then girlfriend a few months ago, as far as you had heard. You were not sure why you had asked that question.

“Do you want to go to the festival tonight with me? Like a girls night out?”

It kind of slipped your lips and you prayed he would not take it the wrong way. His brows shot up and looked down at his drink.

“Yes, I would love that.”

A breath you did not know you were holding released.

Your food came and the conversation shifted. You talk about the conference that you had not seen much of yet. There still hung this question between you. You had said you liked him but he had not said anything to address your confession.

He decided to accompany you back to the hotel and you secretly loved that. You walk side by side. The last few days had been a bit cold, but today the sun gave its best to make it seem like it was still summer. Your hands brushed and Junhee caught your hand. He slid his fingers between yours and just like that you held hands. You could not stop a big, stupid smile from break on your face. The streets were not familiar but Junhee seemed to know where you were going.

“This is not your home town, is it?”

“No but my sister lives here. I come to visit often.”

It felt nice to walk with him like this. Your steps had synchronized without you thinking about it. The hotel was not far now, you began to recognize the houses.

“You probably look very good in a dress.”

You could not look at him and your face burnt. Hopefully he did not take it the wrong way.

“You like it?”

The tone was neutral and you could not tell if he approved or not.

“Yes but you look good either way.”

Junhee stopped and you looked at him. A moment later you found yourself in a tight hug, pressed against Junhee’s upper body. You could feel his breath on your neck and tried to protect what little dignity you had left by not melting into his arms. It failed.

“Thank you.”

The words tickled your skin and Junhee pressed a kiss to your cheek as he pulled back. Your brain must have short circuited being in your crushes arms and your face being so close to his. You kissed him. It was more a short peck, really. You did not have time to apologize for your forwardness. Junhee was a good kisser. The way his lips moved against yours made your heart flutter. It ended too soon.

“I have to go.”

Your tone said ‘and I don’t want to’. Junhee nodded but his hands still held you close. How nice would it be to just stay like this?

Technically there would be a dinner with the conference people that evening but the temptation to just skip it altogether was very big. Spending more time with your maybe, soon boyfriend was more appealing than spending the evening listening to the old men. They would only repeat the same stories they told at the afternoon networking session and the morning session. You texted Junhee but he insisted you stayed at least for a bit. His argument of ‘he would take some time to get ready anyways’ seemed like a plot to make you work. Reluctantly you joined one of the tables. You knew some of the men on this table. They were that type that would leave and find a seat at another table soon. Exactly what you wanted. They just had to see you were there, so no one could complain. You doubted that any of them really cared but there was a chance your supervisor would hear about you not being at the dinner through the grapevine.

The dinner was a buffet and you were first in line for food. You did not even remember afterwards what you had, because Junhee texted you with two outfits and asked which one you liked more. One was a grey skirt with a black shirt and a white scarf, the other outfits was a dress. Both would look fantastic, you were sure of that but there just was something about the first outfit that made you send ‘I love the first one’.

After an hour a window of opportunity opened and you left for your room. You changed into something more casual and left the hotel. Junhee would be waiting at the river. A thought struck you. Did he use another name when he was cross dressing?

You arrived at the river and turned right like the evening before. Junhee sat on the same bench, waiting.

“Good evening.”

It was a bit stiff but Junhee smiled at your greeting anyways. You hugged and when he pulled back you used the chance to ask about his name.

“Junhee is also a woman’s name. So just continue to call me that.”

You strolled through the narrow streets arm in arm with Junhee. Even before today you had been comfortable talking to him but now all inhibitions had disappeared. You two giggled and smiled the whole way to the other side of town. Some older people gave you stern looks but it did not phase you. Junhee was in an extraordinarily good mood. You suspected that his secret had weighed heavier on him than he had let on.

Junhee suggested going to his favorite restaurant in town and you agreed.

The place was away from the festival but not too far away. The waiter showed you to a table in a corner.

“At day time you can see the garden, from here it’s really beautiful!”

‘Really beautiful’ was also the person opposite you. The long wig hid Junhee’s sharp jawline and made his face a bit softer. The dark blouse hid his muscular arms and the fake lashes made his eyes shine.

You felt awkward not eating anything so you ordered something small to eat along with the drinks. Junhee devoured his food and when he caught you staring, an embarrassed smile appeared on his face.

“I didn’t have dinner yet.”

The light blush on his face was very cute and you found yourself smiling like an idiot.

Junhee finished the food and got ready for a toast. You raised your glass too and Junhee said: “To us!”

“To us!”

It was not your first glass so it seemed a bit silly but you smiled brightly anyways. The restaurant was full and the noise made it harder to hear. You moved your chair next to Junhee. In your head that had seemed very casual but in reality it was intimate. You were sitting in a corner now with the wall on one side and gorgeous Junhee on the other. The fake lashes really were the worst. Your heart fluttered and you looked away, face bruning.

Junhee took your hand and interlaced your fingers. The thin rings he wore looked good on him.

“Junhee?” You chewed on your lip. It seemed stupid to ask but you really did not want to there to be any misunderstandings.

“Hmm?”

“Is this a date?”

You met his eyes and he smiled, but it was paired with a nervous laugh.

“Would that be bad?”

Junhee furrowed his brows. You panicked thinking he may take that as you not wanting it to be a date.

“Oh. No! no. I just.. wasn’t sure... “

Say something.

“You know.. We kissed and I thought..”

You stopped at the look on Junhee‘s face. You were so close, it would have been easy to lean in a bit more and press your lips against his lips. His hand tightened and his fingers pressed into the back of your hand.

“It is a date.”

The lipstick had the perfect color, You almost could not tell that Junhee was wearing lipstick. Now, so up close you could see the little imperfections in the outline of his lips. You remembered how they felt on your lip and swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

“Not here.”

The words broke the trance you had been in and you leaned back. He was right, the small town people may not be very happy with two women kissing, and even less so if they happened to notice that Junhee did not exactly fit their definition of 'woman’.

You held Junhee’s hand until your drinks were empty. It was pretty late and you still had to attend the conference tomorrow. Even Though you wanted to spend more time with Junhee, you had to go. The waiter came and Junhee lifted his handbag to look for his purse.

“I’m buying. It’s okay.”

Junhee let the small black handbag sink and smiled.

Arm in arm you walked back to the hotel. The night air cleared your head a bit but the giddy happiness remained.

Thanks for reading :)) see you in the next part.

A/n: this one was kinda tricky. Korean doesn't really have pronouns and especially no 'he' or 'she'. That's the main reason it doesn't get discussed in this fic. In gendered languages like english however it matters how you address people. Please respect people's pronouns.

#wkcnet #noonasinnetwork #Junhee x reader #Junhee fluff #A.C.E fluff #a.c.e x reader #kpop x reader #a.c.e fanfic #A.C.E fics #kpop fanfic #non idol au #star writing #queue for the lemonade stand

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ghoulishhusband · 3 years

Text

I just realized I can actually talk here. Like this is my account fuck u

Fucking uhhhhhh, hi ig lemme ramble abt my God ocs yea?

Ignore this part if you don't wanna hear (likely) unedited rambles lol it doesn't matter

CW: neglect/abuse, assholery/narcissism, manipulation, tread lightly!

read the under cut owo

Also don't steal my art I'll fucking?? Fight you????

I have three main gods that I wanna talk abt especially bc they've been on my mind lately.. Less get it, side notes are in (parentheses) and are bolded cause I have perception issues whoo I don't want it to jumble together is my point lol

First up is my asshole,

Giodine

they/them (preferred)

god/godself (i like pronouns that fit my characters, so I'm giving a bunch away for one night only at--)

ID : Giodine is colored with gold-ish yellow skin and ginger hair. Their eyes are a muted purple and they have tiny eyebrows. Their lips are a muted brown and are full looking, their nose is sharp and points down. They have wings for ears and is wearing a blazer with a long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath it. The background is beige with a yellow square and a dark purple square partially encompassing it. It is signed GH (for ghoulish husband), Spork, 21.

(lemme know if that helps at all! I'm sure I can do better so lemme know!)

If they look weird here it's bc I accidentally made their face too long but believe it or not this is in fact just a doodle Ik I'm so fuckin talented babes.

Anyways, they're basically the first God to ever exist on my version of earth (though even that is fickle rn, world-building is hard unless I hyper-focus on it, and haha Guess What I Haven't Been Thinking About) and they're very egotistical and selfish. As I'll probably yap about later is how they're manipulative as well, especially to another God I'll mention, and very neglectful to the other... other one.

Their partner(professionally), or fiend as they call him, is sam who for the first few eons was, unsurprisingly, absolutely terrible to him. A few tender moments are few and far in between in what could only be described as a completely rancid relationship. I'll describe giodine's side and in sam's lil ramble, I'll describe his :]

I have to explain this because it's a big part of the lore and how they can't work together, even when one of them is very much near The Void (technical death for gods) BUT basically, with Sam, giodine created purgatory. The issue here is that they basically seduced sam into doing it. Well, even if they hadn't, sam was in lesbians(happy pride month lmao) with giodine and would've done it anyway. But the ISSUE is that with the creation of purgatory came complications. See, my gods have to take time to develop into their power, and considering giodine was first and sam was around 666th.. you see the issue. Sam wasn't into his complete power yet and thus lost a giant part of it that went into purg.

See, giodine saw no problem with this (until much later, they do get a VERY SLOW BURN redemption arc cause this ain't even the worst of it), they got what they were aching for out of them and thusly had no need for..sam. They laid him in the spot where she was made (fwi it isn't inherently sexual, it can be, but literally, they just merged together-- taking bits and pieces of each other (which sam did not have enough of) and earth and light yadda, yadda I'll post the story I wrote for that later if I'm up to it) and left him there in the grass.

Again, they saw no problem with that, the deed was done, they didn't care anymore. A common issue in their qualms, sam and Giodine. They did find an issue in Sam finding an issue in the lack of aftercare, which resorted to any message going to or coming from sam going straight to his assistant and going back through them for a couple of thousand years. They found that infuriating-- how could he not face them over something so small! and for years?! it was ridiculous. After forcing a face-to-face meeting, a heated proclaim of hurt from sam, and a bitter agreement to meet up every now and again, they got what they wanted from him. Again. It was a business after all, there was no point in making it harder than it needed to be.

Giodine doesn't necessarily like boundaries and tends to overstep sam's frequently. They also don't like his reaction to his boundaries being long jumped over, which thusly ends up in disgruntled messages being sent back and forth between them and his assistant for a month or three. It slowly gets through to them, but they tend to say some stupid shit and if they want sam to stay, they have to try and avoid mentioning how "overly sensitive" he is to something that happened eons ago.

(quick mention, there isn't like. time. here. so in all honesty, giodine probably counted earth days instead of Heaven 'days' to get that) Soon into their arrangements to meet, they seem to get on at least tolerable terms, obviously, a few meetings where neither of them feels like going apeshit and taking proper shapeless (or in sams case, he's got a newfound form for ANGER OO just for giodine 🤗) forms isn't going to fix a grudge that has yet to be apologized for by the way. But it's a start to a very long process down the road. Tolerance.

Giodine as an entity is very fickle and rude and demanding. They tend to have a short temper that no one else is allowed to have or comment on-- They were the first therefore they were the most important!

This is very obviously an issue. But it's mostly directed to purgatory. Almost all of their seething rage is pointed towards the poor entity, she's barely been alive yet and they already seem to hate her for things she doesn't know how to do. Honestly, I don't think Purg will ever fully forgive them for the unnecessary abuse of her character, but just as Sam and Giodine get on better terms, they had barely just begun fixing the hole in their relationship. As of now, Sam/Giodine don't have any minor plot points with purgatory other than the major one so I don't have a lot to say about their relationship right now. Maybe one day.

I'd go into details, seriously, but I just wanna ramble about their relationships with each other and their impact on each other's existence. Hope you don't mind a few secrets 😉

But, now, it's time for a new God, one I think most people take a liking to...

Sam (Samuel)

He/him

ID: Sam is surrounded by clouds in the light blue, fading to a darker blue sky and the yellow sun. His horns are a darker beige, which is being highlighted by the sun shining down on him, he also has pointed ears. His skin is red which is very prominent in the sun. His eyes are completely yellow, his hair, beard and mustache are also black. He has an orange scar crawling up to his Adams apple. His wings are a darker grey which is also being highlighted by the sun. His nails are painted black and his hand is holding up the black fabric barely covering his shoulders. Around the painting is a gold and red shaded frame with swirls complimenting each side and a crystal at the bottom of it. It is lightly signed GH, for ghoulish husband.

Sam, Sam, Samuel.

If you don't realize right away, Sam is basically Satan, he's the ruler of hell

Like how giodine was the first to appear on earth, as mentioned before sam was 666th for funnie reasons. Sam was made from bugs, dried blood, and sunlight which sounds pretty gross, but he's far from it. He's a silly, yet neat, guy. He wears Hawaiian shirts and khakis (not around giodine lmao) for cryin' out loud! how bad of a person can he be? Apparently to giodine (for a while obviously) he was the most retched entity to exist. This very much hurt him considering the amount of fake care they showed him before. With a mixture of confusing feelings (which wasn't supposed to be a thing but Univerce went "lmao you'll be fine" and left... short explanation, Univerce is the Universe and is the entity who simply builds these planets and gods that'll appear there and leave them to their own devices, xyr not extremely important in this story. Nor would they care.) and feeling used, he decided that no he wasn't going to take that.

If there is one thing Sam knows how to do is to self preserve himself, even if that means getting passive-aggressive notes sent to him every once in a while. While this period, Sam was surprisingly the least productive (unfortunately giodine knew this and eventually mentioned it in one of their meetings which made him hide away cause like hell giodine was going to be critical of /him/) but he managed. It wasn't terrible, but unfortunately, Sam being able to talk it out with someone who does practically the same work as he does and gets newer, more helpful ideas was better in the long run.

Unsurprisingly, Sam was the first to initiate the healing of his and giodine's relationship but it wasn't reciprocated. Who would've figured, aye? Giodine kept pushing it back onto him and ignoring any progress that could've been made before. Which was frustrating.

The painting above was 'painted' by giodine, which is sorta where their relationship gets somewhat on an understanding of each other. Giodine gets to take a deep long look into who Sam is and tries to express it but it never fit him, it makes them realize that they never really-- truly got to know him. And all it does for Sam is make him even more confused about his place in giodine’s mind. He figured it's another fluke to get him to do something, so he ends up distancing himself when they start actually reciprocating his friendship advancements.

Suddenly, like a flash, Sam was forced to stay with giodine which is where the majority. I'll explain.

Sam...isn't actually the ruler of hell. Anymore, anyways depending on the timeline. His and purgatory's relationship has always been complicated, she always avoided him, and when they talked she always seemed scared of him. So in the end, they've never been close. Distant. Sam always wanted to talk to her, he made her, but if she didn't want to talk to him he wouldn't force it. But imagine his surprise as Purg singlehandedly took over hell in a hazed frenzy.

And not only that, had a personal vendetta against him!

Well, that would be the only explanation to Sam considering how he ended up broken and barely 'alive' at the hands of her. Horns broken and in tatters, pain and almost obliterated it felt like a hate crime. He didn't know what to do when he made it to the office, Purgatory was creating chaos outside his door and barely being able to breathe he felt like it was the end. So he called giodine.

Purgatory

She/her

ID: Purgatory is surrounded by flowers that are dark grey and white. The light fades down into a dark green. The light shines down on top of her straight, white hair that has yellow flowers tucked into it. Her skin is a dark brown and has a orange-ish yellow scar on her shoulder trailing up to her neck. Her skin is also highlighted by the sun. In one of her eyes, her sclera is black with an orangey, glowing iris. As for the other eye it it has a white sclera and the same, glowing orange iris. She has wings for ears, one dark grey and one white along with beige horns. She has a white fabric covering her chest. The frame is gold with white accents, but also has vines and moss crawling up the side.

(may have goofed a bit and forgot to color the sclera of her other eye white but ignore that pls)

Purgatory was made by Sam and Giodine, but to her it felt like a mistake. Why make someone that you’re going to be terrible to, she believed. Giodine seemed to hate her and eventually made her section almost obsolete because she simply wasn’t able to keep up with the backlog that she wasn’t taught to deal with. Not only that, she didn’t have any help with any of it, it was almost like she was expected to just do it on her own. Until Death came along to help, but that’s not what we’re going to be talking about right now.

And also, Purgatory is Purgatory yadda, yadda, I wont insult your intelligence.

Giodine’s thought process (other than wanting to be Real Close to Sam and once that thought filtered out, promptly ignored it) was that all the extras that don’t fit in either category of their thought of good and evil they’d go to her. (doesn’t matter cause in Sam's system it filters through ‘levels of assholery’ and depending on how bad you are you either just vibe in the upper city under rule of capitalism and possibly many under paying jobs or being actually tortured for his amusement if you’re just evil. Morally grey. Anyway, it could work p well in heaven if giodine wasn’t such a damn stickler.) But in the end, every day, less and less people ended up in purgatory, leaving her with barely any people and more verbal abuse from giodine who ‘HAS to take them or they would be more dead than they already are’. You see the pain she has to go through, right?

~Idea section, this is probably not canon anyways so dont take it serious~

My thought is that another oc (BA, you may have heard of him idk) takes over simply because Purg took multiple hims from alternative timelines (which isn’t allowed but what’re they gonna do, undead a dead clown? multiple times from multiple timelines???)) because she adored him and they figured ‘well we gotta redo purgatory may as well do it like this’ and make him a demi-dead-god. i think thats a cool idea right? anyhoo

~Idea section over uwu~

Purgatory overall is a fairly timid character, she doesn’t like conflict, is easily overwhelmed, and generally keeps to herself. She doesn’t see the point in being in any drama if she’s just going to be yelled at and scolded even if it’s not about her. The only way i could describe her taking over hell is this:

She was tired. She was angry and after feeling like nothing was in control or in her hands, she snapped. Why doesn’t she get anything or get to be ‘all powerful’ but they do? She knew if she took on Giodine she’d likely get thrown to the void, but sam? He felt fair game. Considering her fear of both of these gods, she planned and got her courage up to take him over. She had considered negotiations but in the end, she ended up going into a haze and ruining everything in sight. She was more powerful than she thought and once she started, she didn't stop until Death restrained her and Sam was already in pieces at God’s doorstep.

The aftermath was fuzzy for her and for everyone really. Godine was planning a take back hell while actually worrying for sam, sam was planning for a retirement, and she was being consoled while trying to get in contact with sam to apologize. Giodine wouldn’t dare let her talk to him, until she just showed up in their office. She didn’t have a problem with Sam, honest, she just was going to take shit over, but it got out of control.

Spoiler, Sam took her apology and they actually became.. somewhat closer after reaching an understanding.

I wanna say that giodine took them being okay and sam retiring as good as sam did about purg running hell, but they didn’t. Giodine and purgatory actually barely got along in the first place, and only begun ‘working’ on their bitterness toward each other because they both had sam to encourage it. I can’t say for certain if they’ll get better, as theyre both undying and have time, but I’ll just say for now its uncertain.

Also, Death is Purgatory’s girlfriend after all of that lmao.

And.. yeah, i hope this makes sense and that you like my drawings and ramblings about my lil story in my head, i guess this is my way to develop it without just keeping it to myself cause god forbid i keep things to myself hshsh. If you made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to read and attempting to process everything, and even if you didnt read and just looked to look at my art thank you to!!

I may post some art over on @ghoulishhusbandart cause.. it was my art account before i completely forgot about it but i might reboot it! But if you wan art NEOWWW follow me on insta (ik cringe lmaoo) by the same name as this account @ghoulishhusband or just click that insta link! also ignore the fact that giodine is the only one without a portrait, maybe I’ll replace it the next time i draw but im graduating on monday and my dad’s coming TOMORROW?? so i won’t have too much time to do it... but i hope you like my art anyways :]

ok!! ty!! ily!!

#ghoulishrambles #ghoulishsporkocs #man this is weird lmaoooooo #THE CUT DIDNT CUT IM SORRY #Man I should've edited this before ppl could see it I'm so sorry if it's a mess shshhs #I keep adding tags bc I have more to say but I wanna pin this but I don't wanna remove that Palestine post just for my ramble so #I'll just reblog it every once in a while

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triggerlil · 4 years

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Hi, i will love to read some jealous drarry. I been thinking that Draco is a lot more jealous than Harry, but not always shows it and that Harry's reaction to it would be priceless.

Hey anon, thanks for the ask!! I totally agree with this headcanon 🥰 I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind, but have some Halloween party jealous Draco along with many other gay side ships hehe (also posted on ao3 if you want to check content, although there are no warnings)

Draco sighed, spiked pumpkin juice sloshing over the rim of his mug.

“If you care so much, just go talk to him,” Pansy said, leaning back against the wall and admiring her red painted nails.

They were in the room of requirement, the walls done up in varying degrees of black and orange—from the streamers to the charmed bats flitting about the ceiling, it was every bit the Halloween party. It had all been Pansy’s idea, surprisingly. She had always loved a bit of gothic couture, and now they were all suffering for it, at a party planned by her and Granger, of all people. They had done it all under the nose of the teachers, not bothering to ask for permission, even if they probably could have gotten it. No one was going to know regardless—it was going to be a huge Halloween sleepover.

They had all worked hard to set up the room, everyone delegated a different task. Granger and Pansy had overseen the most important one; decorations. Candles floated around the outskirts, lighting the room with a haunting glow, flickering across the dance floor. Pumpkins were stacked like sentries around the room, their smiles ominous, cobwebs in every corner, and a charmed skeleton next to the doors that insisted on heckling people. The atmosphere in the room was perfect, even Draco had to admit, creepy and exuberant in a terribly fun way. They had put Luna and Daphne in charge of music, and it had been a playful mixture of haunting organ pieces and the most recent dance hits, from Hex a Wix to the Weird Sisters. Longbottom and the Weasley girl had done the food, and it was obvious who had got what, the table split into candied apples, pumpkin pie, and the like, the other side hosting severed fingers (transfigured chocolates), a jar of eyeballs (transfigured gumballs), spiked pumpkin juice, and firewhiskey gummy worms.

And of course, everyone had come dressed in costume. A slightly muggle convention, but muggle was in post-war, and who were the eighth-year students to fight the trends? Draco had been there early with Pansy and Granger, and he had mentally taken note of each costume as people walked in.

Pansy, always a lover of dramatics, had come as the muggle version of a vampire. It was bold, it was gothic, and it was slightly controversial considering vampires did exist. She had temporarily transformed her teeth into fangs, and the exaggerated canines added to the sharp lines in her face, contrasting the glamoured red eyes and her black bob. Draco had to admit, she looked brilliant in her flowing, high collared black cape, the inside lined red, her tight leather pants, and black men’s button-up.

In contrast, Granger was wearing a long black dress that made her look like she had just stepped out of the 1800s, and apparently, she had… As Marie Curie, the muggle scientist. She had charmed her wand a glowing green, “radioactive” she said, and her bushy brown hair was put up in a high bun.

She looked atrocious in Draco’s opinion, but Pansy couldn’t stop staring at the nape of her neck, or admiring the stray curls framing her face. He had also noticed Granger assessing Pansy’s toned legs, giggling madly at everything Pansy said. It made him want to vomit.

Luna had arrived promptly to set up the music, brown paint smudged across her cheeks, and bright yellow petals sticking out of her hair. A sunflower, the symbol of joy and adoration, she informed Draco serenely.

Next, most of the Gryffindor’s had shown up together, being boisterous and joyous, so making Draco’s eye twitch in annoyance.

Weasley had wrapped his Gryffindor tie around his head, tucked his white shirt loosely into tattered beige slacks, put a sword on his hip, and called himself a pirate. The epitome of lazy.

The girl Weasley was no different, dressed in her Quidditch uniform she was, gasp, a Quidditch player. She had quickly sought out Luna, flexing brashly. Disgusting. Although the way Luna had lit up at seeing her, becoming ever more the sunflower, had brought a small smile to Draco’s face.

The rest of the Gryffindor’s were boring enough; Longbottom the gardener, muggle versions of witches, Thomas a muggle football player, Finnigan apparently the football.

There were, of course, a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw editions to their little gathering, but Draco couldn’t be bothered to look up from what he was doing, their costumes as boring as he would have expected. Although Zacharias Smith seemed to have put a lot of effort into looking like an absolute idiot, his dragon handler costume was completely unrealistic. Draco had never wished to see that much of Smith, his cloth shorts and thigh-high boots, fake dragon tooth necklace, and bare chest, made no sense when handling a fire breathing beast. Weasley had no issue telling him as much, his sister whipping out a camera, “to send to Charlie,” she snickered.

Finally, the Slytherins had arrived, fashionably late as always.

Theo walked in smoking a pipe, wearing a trench coat; “I’m Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes! The greatest detective in history!” He exclaimed in annoyance as only Granger recognized him.

Crabbe and Goyle had shown up as surprisingly well done-up monsters, Crabbe’s face painted a sickly green, Goyle wrapped head to toe in toilet paper. “M a Mmmy,” he muttered through the costume.

Millicent had thrown on a pair of devil horns and a tail, calling it a day.

Daphne had come as an ice queen, her blond hair streaked with snowflakes, her blue dress shimmering in the candlelight. She looked almost too good for their little affair, as if she belonged in an arching ballroom, glass slippers on her feet.

That was nearly everyone, and Draco had been about to go back to the fake bats he was charming, and that was when he had arrived.

“Harry, mate!” Weasley yelled, “where’s your costume?”

Potter was wearing a white button-up and slacks, his Gryffindor tie hanging loosely around his neck—so exactly what he wore under his robes all day. His hair was an absolute mess, definitely the most frightening thing Draco had seen all day, his round wire-framed glasses skewed.

“Er—I didn’t realize it was a costume party.”

“It’s bloody Halloween, Potter,” Draco quipped, “what did you expect?”

“You don’t seem to have put in much effort either, Malfoy,” Potter retorted.

That was decidedly not true; Draco was wearing all black, from his turtleneck and slacks, to the fuzzy cat ears nestled in his blond hair, to the tail pinned to his arse that seemed to have a mind of its own.

“I am a black cat, the most mysterious and magical of animals.”

It was at that point that Blaise had decided to show his face.

“Zabini,” Weasley growled, “what did we do to deserve this honour?”

“I wouldn’t miss your pretty face,” Blaise said, nearly purring, and Weasley’s face turned beet red.

“No costume, Blaise?” Pansy asked. “Seems you and Potter missed the memo.”

For the first time, Blaise and Potter acknowledged each other, and Draco hated the cunning smile that spread across Blaise’s chiselled features.

“Actually, Harry and I planned this.”

“What?” Draco bit out, unable to catch himself.

Blaise walked forward, snaking a hand around Potter’s neck, and slipping off his tie and replacing it with his own.

“I came as a Gryffindor, he’s a Slytherin.”

Harry—and Draco reasoned with himself, if Blaise could call him Harry, then he bloody well could too— looked stunned for a second, and then a grin split across his face, his green eyes lighting up, highlighted somehow by the tie around his neck.

“I can’t just go and talk to him,” Draco moaned, now, “and he’s all distracted.”

“You could be the one doing the distracting.”

“But he’s flirted with almost every other Slytherin; shouldn’t he come to me?”

“You’re too intimidating over here.”

“I’m not!”

“Just go talk to him, Draco.”

“I can’t, Pans!”

“Sweetie,” Pansy said, cupping Draco’s face, “you’re starting to get tiring.”

She slipped away, leaving Draco to be the fuming wallflower by himself. She slid up next to Granger, surprising her from behind and pulling her onto the dancefloor.

Draco scanned the room, growling when he saw Harry and Blaise talking in the corner. It wasn’t fair, Blaise wasn’t even interested, and he knew how Draco felt.

Suddenly, he caught a flicker of blue and silver, and he watched with wide eyes as Daphne pushed past Blaise, her blond hair done up in a loosely curled bun, and pulled Harry onto the dance floor. Oh, that was just rich. He watched as Harry and Daphne twirled around the dance floor, until suddenly there was Theo, pipe still hanging from his mouth, trench coat thrown open. Daphne curtsied, and Harry bowed, but instead of Theo taking Daphne’s hand, he pulled Harry towards him, dipping him low.

Draco watched with growing anger as the tips of Harry’s ears turned red, and he stalked over to the food, actively avoiding the dance floor.

He took a handful of firewhiskey gummy worms. If he was going to watch Harry get propositioned by every Slytherin, he was going to do it absolutely pissed.

“Drinking away your troubles, too?” Weasley asked, a cup of pumpkin juice gripped firmly in hand, a glower plastered on his face.

Draco followed his gaze to Blaise taking Harry off Theo’s hands. Blaise looked up, eyes skipping off Draco to land on Weasley, his face splitting into a challenging grin. And then Harry looked at what Blaise was looking at, and his eyes were locked on Draco’s, he seemed as if he was going to come over, and then Blaise was spinning him away.

“The nerve of some people,” Weasley said.

“He’s obviously taunting you,” Draco drawled, realizing how hypocritical he sounded. “Why don’t you just talk to him.”

“Because I—” Weasley spluttered, “I can’t just—”

Draco rolled his eyes, biting down on his tongue as he watched Millicent drag Harry out to dance, dwarfing him with her broad shoulders and height.

“Why does every Slytherin want Harry tonight?” Draco fumed, biting down hard on a gummy worm, relishing the bitterness that came with it.

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Weasley said, enjoying turning Draco’s own words on him.

“Thanks for that, Weasley.”

“How impressive we are,” he said, “standing here like idiots.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Take a shot with me?” He said, handing him some fire-whisky.

So, Draco and Weasley did a shot together, the drink burning their throats, and they stood together darkly, dwelling in their shared jealousy.

“Look at that,” Draco said, and they watched as Thomas and Finnigan stumbled into cobwebs, unable to get out. “Pansy got me to charm them so that you can’t leave until you kiss.”

“Why is everyone so happy,” Weasley moaned, looking away as the kiss deepened, Thomas and Finnigan dropping onto a nearby couch to continue.

“Beats me,” Draco agreed, angrily watching the Weasley girl spinning Luna around, their faces radiating; Pansy standing with her arms around Granger, head leaning on her shoulder; Theo and Longbottom dancing happily, albeit a little awkwardly, and everyone else that wanted to be paired off with everyone else, and it was just so infuriating.

“Hello Ronald,” a sultry voice said, and Draco and Weasley both whipped their heads around to find Blaise standing there, top buttons undone, tie loose.

That was it, Draco thought, as Blaise led Ron away. He had had enough. Potter was nowhere to be seen, and he wasn’t going to just stand here watching everyone be lovey dovey and absolutely deplorable.

He put down his glass, shooing away a bat that was trying to settle in his hair, and stormed out of the room of requirement, his tail twitching angrily. Outside, the candles flickered ominously, the hallways silent. He skirted around the suits of armour, looking out for Filch, Mrs. Norris, or Peeves, and let himself finally take a breath.

He revelled in the quiet, and found himself in the courtyard, the stars twinkling with an extra Halloween specialty. He sat down on a bench, casting a quick warming charm against the cool night air, and allowed the silence to wash over him.

It wasn’t fair that everyone else got to be happy, discovering that when they got over their prejudices, they got along well. Draco had been pining after Harry for years, years, and here Pansy and Granger had only started getting along a few months ago. Certainly, Blaise and Weasley hadn’t been after each other before now. He grumbled to himself, kicking the rocks at his feet, until he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Malfoy?” A voice called out, and he cursed inwardly. Of course. He turned around on the bench, his tail flexing with the chill that curled down his spine, nothing to do with the weather.

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco asked harshly, as Harry came round and sat next to him.

“I wondered where you went,” he said, brow furrowing with worry as he shivered.

Draco rolled his eyes, casting a quick warming charm on Harry, too.

“Weren’t you having fun being the complete center of attention?” Draco asked, looking away so Harry didn’t see how serious he was being. “There wasn’t a Slytherin in that room who didn’t flirt with you.”

“Except for you,” he replied, inching closer.

“What?”

“You never flirted with me, you barely talked to me,” he said, a breeze running through the courtyard ruffling his hair, a far-off owl hooting. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I—No, Potter, you are so dense,” Draco spluttered, not sure how to put it into words. “You were the one who never talked to me!”

“I wanted to, but you seemed so angry.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You really are an idiot, Potter,” he said, and he leaned forward, looking closely into Harry’s eyes, admiring the different shades of green flecked around his pupils. If there was any night to forget his cowardice, it was this night, with eldritch magic on the wind and ethereal energy permeating the air.

“What are you—” he breathed, realizing what Draco was implying. He swallowed nervously, and Draco felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched the delicate skin of Harry’s throat.

“Can I kiss you, Harry?” he whispered, “because this is what I’ve been wanting all night.”

Harry just nodded dumbly, Draco closing the gap between them and bringing their lips together, running a hand through Harry’s messy black hair, coming to pull on the Slytherin tie around his neck. He tasted like sweetness, a hint of alcohol on his breath, his glasses digging into the bridge of Draco’s nose. He flicked his tongue against Harry’s lips, gently prying them open. He let Harry explore his mouth nervously, until he bit down on Harry’s lower lip, sucked, shuddered as Harry gasped into his mouth. The kiss deepened, their noses brushing, teeth clicking for a moment, and Draco let a hand snake under Harry’s shirt, gripping the skin he had wanted to feel for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry looked even more of a mess, and Draco’s cat ears were lopsided, his tail stroking up and down Harry’s arm.

“Er—“ Harry started, his lips kiss swollen and attractive, “I mean—Shit, Malfoy.”

“I think maybe we’re past last names.”

“Okay, Draco—But, I—Was that why all the Slytherin’s were dancing with me?” He asked. “To make you jealous so that,” he motioned between them, “this would happen.”

“Actually… That makes a lot of sense,” Draco said, making a mental note to torture Pansy. “I guess we should make,” he mimicked Harry, motioning between them, “this happen.” And he pulled him forward by the tie and kissed him again, making another mental note to make Harry wear Slytherin colours more often.

Draco smiled into the kiss. Apparently, a bit of jealousy could be beneficial, and he thought that everyone being happy and in disgustingly in love probably wasn’t so bad.f anything, it would be nice to feel wanted for a change. Somewhere, candles in pumpkins were blown out, bags of candy dumped out and counted, and the first of November was coming in without fan fair, Halloween stalking back into the shadows. Until next year, Draco thought, and if he could want Harry for six whole years, they could probably last for one. They could wear a couple’s costume next Halloween, something absolutely atrocious, like darkness and light.

Meanwhile, Harry was thinking, through the pleasure that was beginning to flood his body, that having an anniversary with Draco on Halloween wouldn’t be a terrible thing. After all, he had been looking for distractions today, and he had been lucky enough to find the best one. A little black cat he could call his own.

#drarry #hp #pansmione #blairon #draco malfoy #harry potter #pansy parkinson #draco x harry #harry x draco #eighth year #halloween #halloween harry potter #mywriting

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sciencespies · 3 years

Text

Meet the Western Soil Scientists Using Dirt to Make Stunning Paints

https://sciencespies.com/nature/meet-the-western-soil-scientists-using-dirt-to-make-stunning-paints/

Meet the Western Soil Scientists Using Dirt to Make Stunning Paints

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Jan. 26, 2021, 8 a.m.

In September, as wildfire raged in Medicine Bow National Forest, Karen Vaughn watched smoke billow in a choked-off Wyoming sky. The sun was reduced to a matte neon-pink disc behind the haze, and Vaughn worried about her research site in the burning mountains. One of her graduate students still had one more day of fieldwork to complete, and the roads would soon be closed, if they weren’t already. Vaughn’s family—her husband and two kids—were outside too, watching as a light gray layer of wind-blown ash settled onto the landscape. The ash and vivid colors sparked something in Vaughn, who continually sought new inspiration for the paint she makes. She began dashing around, scraping the sediment from every flat surface and encouraging her kids to help collect the fine powder. She decided to incorporate that ash into watercolor pigments with hues reflecting the fire, indelibly preserving the moment. The small batch of paints, distributed to friends and local artists, would be used to create depictions of the destructive forces that allowed their creation in the first place. “You’re breathing that air, even in your house, and you look outside and see that weird orange glow,” says Vaughn. “You couldn’t help but be a part of that.”

A soil scientist and a professor at the University of Wyoming, Vaughn sees a lot more soils than the average person, and certainly knows them more intimately. Over many years spent examining them, she has come to appreciate their natural beauty and immense variability. Two years ago, she began channeling that appreciation into a product she could share with the world, turning the soils she loved into watercolor pigments. Now, she and her collaborator, Yamina Pressler, a soil scientist at California Polytechnic University, use soils to make pigments and paintings, bridging the gap between science and art. By sharing both their creative processes and scientific knowledge on social media and connecting with artists, scientists and the public, they aim to make soil education entertaining.

Vaughn’s research is in pedology, which means she studies minute, subtle changes within a soil. Does the size of the grains change? Do the colors fade into each other or get cut off abruptly? What microorganisms are present at different levels in the soil? The very nature of her field, she says, is subjective. “It is an art form,” she says. “It takes a nuanced eye to really be able to see the changes within a soil.”

Her job requires her to hop in a deep hole, map out tiny changes few people notice and interpret the soil’s history. Her specialty is studying water in soils: How much is there? When is it present? How does it change the soil’s chemistry? What features does it leave behind? Her work helps us understand how soils form in unique environments, like wetlands in the otherwise arid Wyoming mountains, and how fragile soils like permafrost might respond to climate change.

To the uninitiated, the landscape of Wyoming might seem like a monotonous stretch of tan dirt. But that idea is exactly what Vauhgn is trying to change through her art. By explaining to artists and curious laypeople how the myriad hues in soils come to be and sharing them visually through both her own creative works and those by other artists, she hopes to give people the ability to see soil as more than “just dirt.”

Soils, paints and swatches from samples collected throughout Wyoming and Utah allow a glimpse at the belowground natural beauty of the western United States.

(Karen Vaughn)

“Sometimes art opens the door to people wanting to learn about science,” says Laura Guertin, a geology professor at Pennsylvania State—Brandywine. Guertin too has brought art into science, both for her classrooms and her communities, by crocheting temperature records and quilting climate change stories. “Using different perspectives to introduce a topic, like soil, can help people understand and connect with it a little more.”

Soil is often overlooked in basic geology classes, says Guertin, and understanding how it works and where it comes from is important. “Without soil, you don’t have the rest of Earth’s systems,” she says. “It’s such a fundamental material, it’s the basis of our food systems.” And society’s indifference to soil led to the Dust Bowl, one of the greatest environmental disasters in the history of the United States. “With my students, I talk about the Dust Bowl and how it was a loss of soil that triggered a chain reaction, impacting a broad cross-section of society,” says Guertin.

Vaughn began making pigments as a fun way to engage with her kids, now ages 7 and 9, and keep them away from screens. They come soil collecting with her, and occasionally help mix the pigments and paint. But the main reason she makes pigments now is to share her perspective on soils’ inherent beauty with the public. “I found all these amazing soil colors,” Vaughn says, “and I wanted to do something more with them. I wanted them to persist longer.”

She recognized that by making paints she could share science with people who lack her expert training. “Spending all that time as a pedologist looking at soil formation and thinking about how much the colors of the soil can tell us about the natural history of that area, I wanted to let people in, open their eyes a little bit,” she says.

Vaughn collects soils for pigments almost everywhere she goes, from dirt collected in a wetland study site high in the mountains to coal unearthed in her backyard. On a family road trip to Florida in a campervan, for instance, she grabbed a small bag of soil from every stop, with the intent of creating a palette that reflects that memory. One dull pandemic day, she and her kids took to their bikes on a scavenger hunt near her home for as many colors of the rainbow that they could find. It was a change of pace for Vaughn, who is normally more opportunistic than intentional in her soil collecting. She made a palette of red, brown, orange, white, yellow and purple to represent that effort. And, of course, she has the three-hue palette from the September wildfire, corners of which were still smoldering away when we spoke in November.

Because it was just a small batch, Vaughn distributed the ash-infused pigments to local artists and a few select clients to create works reflecting the wildfires. California artist Tina Pressler, Yamina’s mother, painted a patchwork American bison, the West’s once-ubiquitous megafauna, and Bethann Merkle, a Wyoming artist and science communicator, created a series of three abstract paintings of fire-wrought forest textures. The ash-infused pigments felt fluid and heavy, says Tina. “The addition of ash made it seem really tactile, in a way, and I loved it.”

Artist Tina Pressler used pigments made of ancient Wyoming soils and recent ash to paint this bison, which she says “represents a visual amalgamation of flora and fauna over time.”

(Tina Pressler)

“I’ve long had a fondness for rocks—my windowsills are piled up with them at home and at work—but [Vaughn’s] work and pigments have helped me expand that curiosity and appreciation to the soil,” says Merkle.

Before Vaughn began sharing her pigments with artists, she had to spend some time getting the day-long pigment-making process down. It took her a few tries: “My first pigments,” she says with a laugh, “were chunky and terrible. But I gave them away with a disclaimer.”

In the first step of her process, Vaughn removes the sandy portions of the soil, leaving only fine silts and clays mixed in water, which she then pours into a cookie sheet and bakes in the oven for a few hours. After all the water has evaporated, the soil appears cracked and desiccated, like a mudflat after a long summer drought. “Look, mom, it’s all wrinkly like you,” her daughter once helpfully said. Vaughn grinds the baked silt into a fine, homogenous powder. Then comes Vaughn’s most meditative step: mulling, or combining the soil with the watercolor medium— a mixture of water, gum arabic, honey and vegetable glycerin. Only then does she get a sense for what the final hue will be. “You might start with an amazing green soil that, all of a sudden, becomes this dull, greenish white. And that’s okay,” Vaughn says. “It’s always a color I’ve never made before, so I’m thrilled.”

After Vaughn bakes the pigment, cracks appear that reflect patterns seen throughout nature—such as in this ancient orange soil pigment collected in the Red Desert of Wyoming.

(Karen Vaughn)

The colors of the paint come straight from the soil’s geologic past: Bright reds and oranges mean the soils were exposed to the oxidizing effects of intense climates, long stretches of time or both. Dark browns and blacks represent rich organic matter, reflecting the cycle of life and death at the Earth’s surface. Brighter hues result from minerals with specific elements; the presence of copper lends minerals blue-green colors, sulfur creates vibrant yellows and manganese presents as faded purple. Stark whites could mean acid once trickled down through the soil from a pine copse, or that ash once settled over the landscape, like that which Vaughn collected in September.

“Everything has a story,” Guertin says. “What’s been here in the past? Where do these colors come from? Where do these materials come from that give us these colors? I love that [Vaughn is] taking the soil science and showing how you can break it down to materials, to these pigments that have cultural meaning and to painting, which people already have a familiarity with.”

Vaughn describes her soil collecting, her artistic process and the science of each soil on Instagram, where she answers questions about chemistry, location and geology. Sometimes artists send in questions about the science of pigment-making itself, but many are just interested in learning more about the natural world. Depending on how much detail people want, she’ll even send along some scientific papers in a private message. Because so many of her clients are interested in learning about the soils, Vaughn is planning to start including a “soil story” with each palette shipped out.

Vaughn’s connections with artists sometimes grow from the virtual world to working together in person. Diana Baumbach, a Wyoming artist who Vaughn collaborated with a few years ago, loved going into the field with the scientist to forage for natural materials, including soil. “I really hadn’t thought about soil or considered it as a material before,” Baumbach said. “Looking at soil profiles with [Vaughn] was totally new for me. We both pulled each other into our worlds, which I thought were quite different. In the end, it was surprising how many intersections there actually were between my work and her work.”

While Vaughn does paint with her pigments, she doesn’t typically share her work; she leaves that to the younger Pressler, for whom painting has become a public affair. Growing up with an artist mother, Pressler says, meant that art was always in the background. “But it wasn’t until I started painting soils that I began to embody being an artist as part of my identity.”

Created during a soil art live stream on Instagram, this piece by Yamina Pressler is painted on post-card paper as a reminder that the beauty of soils is meant to be shared far and wide.

(Yamina Pressler)

Pressler also connects with an interested audience through social media. She hosts live paint-along sessions in her ‘virtual soil art studio’ on Instagram, inviting participants of all backgrounds to create soil-focused art inspired by where they live. These two-hour public sessions are open to children and adults, scientists and laypeople.

Tatiana Prestininzi, who has a bachelor’s in agricultural science but never cared much for soil science, now brings her young niece and nephew to Pressler’s paint-along sessions. “It’s not only from the artistic side, but we’re also getting the educational side of things,” she says. “It’s not just the 15-to-30-somethings on Instagram, she’s got 7 and 5-year-olds learning about soil profiles… so now I can go hike around San Diego with my eight-year-old niece and have a conversation about the soils she sees. She’ll ask to paint it and send it to the ‘soil doctor.’”

Through Vaughn’s art outreach and Pressler’s educational outreach, the scientists aim to inspire in the public the feelings children have while digging in the dirt and wondering at the world around them. Vaughn’s process of finding soils for pigments has a sense of play that is really infectious, says Baumbach. And while Pressler does draw soils realistically, she’s more drawn to whimsical doodles that reflect her feelings towards soil, which she shares on her Instagram sessions, along with the science stories behind them.

Yamina Pressler’s painting “Mojave Dreaming 28” was inspired by the unexpected winter tones of the Mojave desert.

(Yamina Pressler)

Tapping into her artistic side has helped Vaughn re-imagine what college soil science classes can be. She has her students sketch frequently, and she occasionally has them paint with soils. Her collaboration with Baumbach led the pair to cross-pollinate art and science further, with Baumbach bringing her art students to Vaughn’s science labs to talk about color and Vaughn giving guest lectures in Baumbach’s art materials courses. “Really, basic things like observation and analysis are at the core of what we both do, and we’re communicating through materials and visual forms,” Baumbach says. “The students are just starting to think broadly about materials, so hearing Karen talk about soils as a raw material is really interesting for them.”

In addition to giving talks about soil science and life as a researcher at K-12 schools and museums, Pressler works directly with teachers, taking them into the field and lab so they can get firsthand experience with soils. “They can then go back to their students and talk about soils and ecology, and the process of science, from their perspective,” says Pressler. “It’s more meaningful to the students that way.”

Michelle Bartholomew, a middle- and high-school science teacher, jumped at the chance to head into the field with Pressler in Colorado and Alaska. They developed soil science classes together, did some drawing and studied soils. “That was the highlight of my time with her, working on those tundra soils,” Bartholomew says. “It’s doing science, you know? Even though we’re science teachers, we don’t get to do that. It rejuvenated me… and gave me new ways of teaching old concepts.”

Artist Bethann Merkle, who has worked with scientist Karen Vaughn for two years, used soil pigments created from a burned area to paint scenes of the charred landscape.

(Bethann Merkle)

Pressler and Vaughn also believe in the importance of being role models who break out of the compartmentalization so common in science today. “It’s about showing young people that there are lots of different ways to be a scientist,” Pressler says, “that you can be colorful and explore different parts of your curiosity and still be a scientist.”

“We used to be Renaissance people,” Vaughn says. “Now it’s, ‘You need to stay in your box so you can do well at that.’ I feel like we’ve almost made it okay to be artistic while also being a scientist.”

#Nature

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wishingupontheskyandstars · 4 years

Text

This Autumn Evening 🍂

One-shot Reylo fic - Rated T

AO3 Link

Summary: It's been over a year since Ben last saw Rey and one evening walking in the park he spots his former co-worker snoozing on a bench...

It's been so long since I last wrote any fanfic so this one-shot is a little exercise for me, to get back into writing :) Hope you like! <3

*****

Ben Solo loved Autumn. He loved the sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet. All the streets in his neighborhood were messy, with bright yellow, orange, and red leaves. He checked his watch and figured he had a few minutes to take a stroll across Naboo Gardens Park before heading home.

The sunset had yet to start as Ben started to walk through the park. He looked around and saw people out for a walk, some with dogs, one with a yellow bird perched on an older man's shoulder. Ben smirked as he turned his head and saw kids with their parents, some playing soccer, some laying on the plush green meadow of grass looking up at the sky.

There was a slight chill in the air, which made Ben look down to see all his coat buttons buttoned. As he walked, a leaf in the air caught his attention. He followed the leaf's destination, laying on the head of a young woman sitting on a bench feet away. She had her eyes closed and her arms crossed, making it look like she was taking a nap. It was apparent she was as she didn't react to the leaf still on her head. She wore a gray-colored fitted sweater, jeans, and converse shoes. She was in casual clothes, but he recognized her. As Ben walked toward her, he could hear her soft breathing as she continued to sleep. Ben waited almost a minute before he dreaded what he did next.

"Rey?" He asked.

"Hmm...?" She started to open her eyes. She instantly recognized that voice and his face. "I—Oh fuck...it's you."

Ben scoffed, moving his mouth one side then the other. "Yeah."

Rey felt annoyed. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way home when I saw you here..." He shrugged. "Hey, it could have been someone worse."

"Not likely."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Nice."

She shrugged, looking anywhere but him. "Well, this is weird."

Ben nodded. "Look, it's been over a year since we last saw each other." He motions for the seat next to her. She shrugged in response, which makes him see that as close to an invitation to sit beside her. He finally sat next to her, looking ahead for a second, the sunset started to occur. He looked next to her, seeing Rey's profile, looking at it as well. He saw her gently sun-kissed skin, her freckles on her nose that he always thought as cute. He then saw her hazel eyes stare into his brown eyes, and he gulped.

"What do you want, Ben?"

"You never answered my texts or calls," he stated.

"I felt I didn't need to."

He scrunched his brows in confusion. "Why?"

"Why? Because we weren't co-workers anymore!" She said crossly.

"You left."

"Of course, I did. I couldn't stay in that damn office any longer."

Ben looked at Rey with an earnest look. "I thought we were friends."

Rey remained silent, her arms still crossed. She didn't look his way.

Ben kept staring in her direction. "I thought there was something more between us. Remember, in the break room, as I handed your cup of hot chocolate? We had gone to dinner the night before. You said you wanted to do that again, but not as friends—"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!" He said passionately.

Rey finally looked his way with a brow raised. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to ask you out!"

Rey remained silent but stared into his eyes, afraid she would get lost as she did so long ago.

"Rey, we all thought you were going to get that editorial assistant position. You should have gotten it." He sighed, leaning his head back, looking at the mixture of orange, yellow, and pink colors from the sunset. "Didn't you ever read or hear my messages?" He whispered.

Rey shook her head.

Ben sighed with slight agitation. "Snoke is a hard ass. He's the worst, but he gave me an ultimatum. Either I take the position, or he would fire me.

Rey looked back at Ben with the first look of concern towards him. "He did what?"

"I was going to leave and have him offer it to you...but..." Ben looked up, remembering that awful day in Snoke's office, then looked back at Rey. "He said it would be a waste for me to leave because he was never going to offer you the position."

Anger fired in Rey's eyes suddenly. "That bastard! After five years of being his assistant and journalist and making his disgusting smoothies with vodka." She shuttered, remembering it all, again. "If not you nor me, who?"

"Hux.”

"That pasty little—" She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "He had only been there two years, just a year less than you!"

"I know." He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

Rey looked ahead with disgust. "That sexist ugly shit."

"Yup." He looked at Rey with sincere sadness. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I should have just heard your messages." After a moment of silence, she said, "I've been working at this independent online magazine near the outskirts of Coruscant. I mostly work at home but have to be at the office, at least twice a week."

"I know."

Rey looked back and Ben and raised her brows. "You do?"

He nodded. "I've read your pieces, and like always, they're incredible."

She gave a small smile, the first of the night. "Thanks, Ben." She sighed. "What a waste of time."

"What?"

"I wasted a year of being mad at you when we could have been dating."

Ben's eyes enlarged, not expecting that. "Oh, I—"

Rey gave him a half-sile. "Unless you're seeing someone else."

He shook his head quickly. "I'm not... you?"

"Nope."

"Okay." He sees Rey uncross her arms and get comfortable on the bench, placing her hands on her lap. "Rey, why were you sleeping here? Do you do it often?"

She scoffed. "Sometimes, I just need a little quiet from work and my apartment filled with my roommates and..." She scrunched her nose as she patted her head and grabbed the leaf that was still on her head. "What the—" She gave him a shocked look. "You jerk! Why didn't you tell me I had this leaf on my head?" She shoved his shoulder not too hard but almost playfully.

Ben laughed, which made Rey laugh with him. A minute later, they looked at each other, both feeling a sense of hope in the air.

"Do you want to get a cup of coffee or hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate sounds lovely."

"With mint chocolate shavings—I remember."

Rey's eyes lit up. "You got a date, Solo."

They both got up and started to walk together toward the end of the park. The trees beside them had leaves falling all around.

"I love Autumn," Rey said suddenly. "The crisp air, the different colored leaves, the end of daylight savings..." She grinned.

"It's my favorite time of the year, too."

"I know." Rey kept her smile as she slowly reached for Ben's hand.

He looked startled at first, but as he saw her face, he remained at ease and instantly felt the warmth of her hand. He gave her a small smile as they continued to walk together in this autumn evening.

#Reylo #reylo fic #one shot #this autumn evening #rey x ben #<3

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randomartist21 · 5 years

Text

Chapter one

It’s finally here, chapter one of DNAplan. It was really fun writing this, and I hope you all are satisfied and enjoy it!

------------------------------------

I'm lying on the floor next to Jay, as usual in our hell of a home. He's messing with his bones, showing from a failed experiment that had happened to him, and I'm messing with the black goo that slowly started eating my skin, but it hasn't tried to disintegrate my bones and muscles yet, which I find weird.

Jay is taller than me, only by a few inches. He has golden yellow hair and his eyes are two colors, one being blood red and the other pumpkin orange. He's been experimented on many times, so he's missing a few parts of his skin and muscles. All he wears is a t-shirt, one of the sleeves cut so it doesn't annoy the bare skin that shows, and blue jeans, one rolled up for the same reason as his arm. He wears no shoes.

Me, being a few inches shorter than Jay and having a purple mohawk, making us opposites. I wear a torn grey t-shirt and brown shorts, rolled up close to my knees. White bandages stick out from underneath my shorts from cuts I've gotten from surgeries. I also have a brown belt with two small bags sewn to the sides of it. Bearing no shoes, I only have black goo that's started crawling up my legs and down half of my face, taking away the flesh that was once there. It had gotten so bad that one of my eyes had to be taken out because of the pain.

“So,” says Jay, obviously not amused. “Do we have any other plans for escaping?”

“No,” I say doubtfully. “Haven't thought of one yet.”

“Wow, being lazy again?” he says, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“Why must you be like this?”

“Because.”

I was about to strangle him, but our cell door opened, and a guard came in.

“Listen,” he said, no emotion in his voice whatsoever. “You'll be getting a roommate today, so play nice, and try not to eat him.”

He leaves the room, leaving Jay and I confused. We both shrug it off though, and go back to our argument.

After what seemed like hours, the door unlocks. The guard from before comes in while holding the arm of something. The guard then heaves what he had in his hand into our cell and leaves. The thing that was thrown into our cell was a man-made hybrid, just like us.

He was short, very short and had deer antlers, tail, and ears. His skin was almost as white as snow, an albino I would presume, and he had eyes a mixture of sky blue and grey, and his hair was long, about to his shoulders, and to be an unnatural color of silver, tied back into a ponytail. He only wore brown shorts, and bandages covered his stomach and part of his chest. He also had bandages wrapped around his arms and bottom half of his legs.

He quickly looks up to see where he's at, and sees us. When he sees us, he swiftly backs up, trying to keep distance from us. Hes obviously scared, and doesn't know if were going to kill him or not. We both stare for a second, then look at each other, get up and move towards the scared deer.

Jay is the first one to talk to him saying, “Hey, were not going to hurt you.”

After he says that, I nod in agreement. The deer doesn't seem to believe us, so I tried something. I extended a hand for the deer to take while saying, “Im Stephen and that idiot is Jay.”

Jay seems offended, and the deer cracks a small smile while taking my hand. I pull him to his feet, and I can see how short he is. I almost laugh, but I keep my cool.

“So, do you have a name?” Jay asks, the silence probably murdering him and his thin temper slowly.

The deer hesitates at first, but then he quietly says, “My name is Hosuh.”

“Did you say Hosuh?” I ask.

Hosuh smiles and nods after I question him. That’s a good sign . . . I think.

------------------------

Everyones’ designs will be seen soon, I’m just making a few minor fixes to everyone, so be prepared for them.

Until next chapter,

~RandomArtist

#dnaplan #danplan fanfiction

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rhapsody-under-pressure · 4 years

Text

Stuck in Time

"Raphon?"

Their leader nodded. "It's located not far from here. Provider asked for an update on life there."

"Why? That thing is a ball of grey smoke!" Adam shouted. "Nothing's ever been there!"

"No…but Provider is wondering and so we listen."

"C'mon Adam! Provider's chosen us to do something for him! Isn't that amazing!" Lily exclaimed.

Adam did have to admit she was right, although he still was dreading the idea of seeing Raphon in person. He thought back to all the things he’d been told since he was born: toxic air, no lifeforms, massive crevices across it that went close to the mantle, and fire scars plaguing the surface for as far as the eye can see. It was as if it never got past the first stage of becoming a planet and ended up sitting there, frozen in developmental hell.

Yet he had to admit he was curious. He would get to brag to everyone that he had survived a trip to Raphon, something which should score him some social points, especially since it was going to be his first excursion outside of the Bez-3 galaxy.

“Oh, alright. You got me there.” Adam said, earning a wide smile from Lily.

Commander smiled at them, her eyes beaming with pride as she turned to her computer and began typing away. He and Lily got their respective suits on, each brandishing a black patch with a stark white A outlined in orange.

“Doesn’t it seem weird, Lily?” Adam asked. “I mean, Raphon?! Raphon!? Why that place? Why would Provider want info on that hunk of rock?”

“Adam…” She began, “You know that Provider has his reasons. Maybe he needs minerals from Raphon.”

“Could blow up the whole thing so it could be put out of its misery.”

“He has his reasons. Maybe he just wants to see if there’s anything new? Whatever his reason is, we have to listen. He-”

“Provides all whenever we need it.” Adam finished. “Well duh, I know! Why else do you think I’m working at A-Space in the first place?” He sighed as he readjusted his suit. “It’s just...Could you imagine if he noticed me? I would love to hear him say my name or...or what if I get to meet him? Or work closer to him like Commander?”

“Oh sure, and we’ll get our groceries three days from now!” Lily exclaimed.

They both laughed as they climbed into their pod Commander had hailed for them. Before getting in, Adam ran his hand across the same ensignia that was brandished upon the pod, tracing his finger along the orange outline. If meeting Provider meant going to Raphon, he wouldn’t mind taking the risk.

As they settled in, Lily pressed the blue button on the control panel and they were launched into space. Once the speed settled, Lily got up and began working on the coordinates for Raphon.

Adam got up and tapped a few buttons on the screen near him, a ham and cheese sandwich popping out in a cardboard box with an A stamped on every corner of it.

“Hm...Took longer than usual.” Adam commented as he tore open the box.

“We’re on a pod,” Lily began, “There’s always gonna be some kind of delay.”

“I guess...Though you’d think the curators would fix it by now.”

“Probably.” Lily said as she took a seat near him, pulling out her own device to order lunch. “Provider must be trying to make it instantaneous.”

“Suggestion recorded.” Said the automated voice of the pod.

“Thank you.” They both replied.

“Provider thanks you as well for your orders and help to make our business better.” It stated.

“What’s she mean by business?” Adam asked.

“Must be an outdated language system. Businesses haven’t existed for a good decade or so.” Lily explained as her bowl of pasta appeared before her, the steam still curling off the surface.

Adam nodded as he looked outside as they hurtled through space. His stomach was starting to twist around inside of him. He wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or nervousness, though he figured it was probably a terrible mixture of both. To think he was about to see Raphon in person; at this point he was starting to wonder if it was a blessing or a curse Provider had chosen him to go on this mission.

…

There it was: an ugly, grey husk of a planet surrounded by poisonous, yellow fumes. The scanner said it detected faint traces of oxy-three throughout the old chemicals that it failed to recognize past toxic. The pod surrounded itself in a proper oxygen field as they broke through the horrendous atmosphere of Raphon.

They landed on a hard piece of ground, a cloud of black smoke curling around their pod. Adam’s lip curled up in disgust. Why would Provider want us here? One look at it says enough. He thought again. No life could ever be here, not as something as monochromatic and noxious as this place.

“I think we’re the first bit of color this place has seen in ages.” Lily commented as they stepped out of the pod.

“I think it’s never seen color.” Adam replied s he held his hand up, his dark brown skin barely standing out against the muddy fog that surrounded them.

“Well, get collecting. According to our commander, the whole planet looks like this, so we don’t need to go anywhere but here.”

“Finally, some good news.” Adam said.

They began looking for any anomalies, though the most they could see was a faded strip of yellow across the black ground, making Adam remember the time he’d attempted painting while drunk.

“Ugh, it’s vile here.” Adam commented. “I’ll bet you 50 A-curr that we won’t find anything past brown and black rock.”

“According to A-Knowledge,” The voice in his helmet began, “Raphon once produced rain containing high amounts of toxic chemicals that could weather metal and stone.”

“Thank you.” He replied.

“Provider is happy to hear you are learning through A-Knowledge. He hopes you will continue to use it when you have a question.”

…

“Adam, have you found anything?” Lily asked.

“Oh yeah! Some stories and a three course meal!” He exclaimed as he kicked another black rock.

“Well...I did, I think it’s…moving.”

Adam perked up and ran over to Lily. She held up a little, brown creature with eight legs attached to its wide body.

“Scan this.” Adam ordered.

“Unknown organism.” The voice replied.

“It looks like those creatures my dad used to tell me about!” Lily exclaimed. “He said things like this could hang from mid-air like it was flying and would be able to hang upside down from the ceiling! Isn’t that cool?!”

“I’d say it’s terrifying. Look at it! It’s creepy with all those legs…”

“I am looking at it! But Adam, this is what Provider was wondering about! Life! Here on Raphon! Can you believe we found it!”

The little creature crawled out of Lily’s hand, making her rush to collect a video of it scuttling off before she scanned pieces of what looked like hair off her hand.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” She asked.

Adam nodded, though the hairs on his neck were still on end from seeing that thing. As creepy as it was, it was alive and that’s what mattered to Provider.

“C’mon! Let’s see if there’s anything else!” Lily said, grabbing his arm and pulling him ahead.

“Hang on! It’s almost 40° out here!”

“Air activated. Initiating cool down sequence.” The voice said.

“Thank you.”

“Provider is pleased you are happy with his services.” It replied.

They frantically began looking around for anything else other than the eight-legged being. Adams' nerves went wild with excitement. Surely that thing needed food! Plants? Other creatures? Something...surely it didn’t just live off rocks...right?

His vision began to grow hazy from the exhaustion as his heart thudded in his chest. Up ahead, the ground grew blacker and dustier, the remains of rocks scattered about.

“Hey, what’s that?” Lily suddenly said.

Adam looked up, seeing a broken yet oddly uniform square. They rushed towards it, the black dust forming a new hideous cloud behind them.

Lily picked it up and shone a light down on it.

“Lo...An...es? Loanes?” She asked.

“Was somebody else here?” Adam questioned.

“According to A-Knowledge, other ships have been sent to Raphon.” The voice answered before continuing. “Some have left debris behind due to a pod malfunction that occurred thirty years ago. Provider fixed that pod, but the duo of Tathum and Verity were unable to be saved due to suit malfunctions and a lack of proper oxygen.”

“Thank you.” Adam said.

“Provider is happy to hear you are learning through A-Knowledge. He hopes you will continue to use it when you have a question.

“Maybe it caught fire or something...This much stuff in the air probably wasn’t good for anything here.” Lily said.

Adam nodded, his stomach beginning to churn again at the thought of dying on such a planet.

“C’mon, this place is freaking me out.” Adam admitted, tugging at Lily’s sleeve.

She nodded, her face twisting from horror and disgust as she snapped a picture of the Loanes sign. He hailed the ship, his mind focusing on nothing but leaving Raphon as fast as possible. He was tired of the soot, of the grey and yellow sky, and of the impending threat of slowly suffocating from the poison that surrounded this inhospitable rock.

Adam rush onto the ship with Lily. She wasted no time typing in the coordinates for him as Adam collapsed onto one of the seats. In an instant, the ship took off, blowing a massive cloud into the air behind them.

“Finally…” Adam sighed as he removed his helmet, breathing in the fresh oxygen. He ordered a snack from the pod, a bag of plant chips appearing in a split second.

“Must’ve updated…” He said as he wolfed down the snack.

Lily just nodded, uploading her notes and media to the pod. Her face seemed oddly pale and her eyes were wide, yet she seemed focused on her task. Adam tossed his snack into the trash as Lily joined him. She turned her attention to outside, Adam following as they watched the brown planet slowly vanish. For a split second, Adam felt sympathy for the planet. To think something went wrong centuries ago that prevented it from fully developing. Maybe in due time it would, maybe it would forever be stuck in this ugly stasis, or maybe it would kill itself from its malignant atmosphere and fade away into the cosmos.

…

“Provider, the duo of Walker and Parsons reported life on Raphon.”

“Thank you Commander, your help is appreciated.” He replied.

Commander left, leaving Provider alone in his office. He looked down outside, basking in the sunlight made all those years ago by his father.

“Alexa, update the Raphon files.” Provider said.

“Raphon; aka Earth’s file was updated. Shall I share this news with your customers?”

“No, thank you Alexa.”

“Response accepted. Anything else Provider?”

“No, thank you Alexa.”

#Yeah okay this was kinda inspired by a recent Doctor Who episode #Plus I love sci-fi in general #Fiction

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magicalspacepanunicorn · 5 years

Text

Time is weird, so is science

AuN: YEAH! HI! Today didn’t forget I was posting today (I did...) Uh, so here! Warnings: crying, shouting, swearing, small injuries, mistaken relationship (??) Word count: 5110 Summary: Logan sighed. He had been at this for a few days straight, often forgetting to eat unless someone reminded him. He was only doing this so the other scientists would stop laughing at his theories during meetings. BOOM! A large crack appeared in the middle of the room. “Holy sh—” He was cut off by a deafening screech as he was sucked through this… bizarre thing, and to the other side. Can Logan perfect his theory and make it back? @ts-storytime Lovely artist: @logicallycorrected Beautiful beta: @nottodaylogic

Logan

The lab was grey in the darkness, white tables were barely visible under the mixture of tattered paper and lab tubes, stained every colour of the rainbow. The only noise was the loud pulse of Logan’s heartbeat. ‘Of course, I just had to try and do THIS, this impossible feat never before conquered by ANYONE.’

Logan sighed. He had been at this for a few days straight, often forgetting to eat unless someone reminded him. He was only doing this so the other scientists would stop laughing at his theories during meetings. Logan ran his fingers, warm with rapidly moving blood, through his hair as he tried to calm himself from the stress and anger he was feeling. “Okay, okay. Maybe if I try the, hmm, and this.” He picked up a red tube and added it to his concoction.

BOOM! A large crack appeared in the middle of the room. “Holy sh—”

He was cut off by a deafening screech as he was sucked through this… bizarre thing, and to the other side.

He was blinded by the brightest light he’d seen in a long time. After spending days in the lab alone with little to no sunlight it was almost a new sensation on his body. He paused as his eyes came into focus. A cold rush of air blew up into his face followed by the smell of fresh bread, whirling into his face.

Roman

Roman awoke with a start and rubbed his eyes. He immediately donned the clothes he had prepared last night, a light suit with tattered patches. The white shirt had a slightly torn, pointed collar hanging over his rough red tie. He stretched and put a hand over his mouth. As he turned to face the door to the hall, he almost screamed at the sight in the mirror hanging on the door frame.

“My hair! I can’t show up to work like this.” Roman reached for the brush and started carefully styling his hair into a wave-like style, almost floating above his head.

Despite the close call, once he actually got to work, it actually started off as a pretty normal day for Roman. He had a few annoying customers at the bank, but it was a fairly slow day anyway. He was on his way back home when he saw a large flash of light and a man appeared. Out of nowhere.

A man with dark brown hair wearing a long white… was it a robe? “What just happened, who are you and what ARE you wearing?”

There were a few shops around, mostly cafes (probably where the bread smell is coming from, I wonder how much it would cost, it smells so good) and others of the sort. There were some people around, but none had seemed to notice the sudden appearance.

“Salutations. My name is Logan. I’m not sure where I am, do you know?”

“Umm, we’re in New York. What happened with the weird light and the—well, you?”

“I believe I have time travelled to the past or the present in your case. May I ask what the year is?”

“Finally something interesting! Oh, It's like May in 1927.”

Logan's eyes widened as he came to a sudden realisation.

“Something wrong? You look a bit tense.”

“I went back 90 years. Oh, something’s wrong. I knew what I was doing but I didn't think it was entirely possible. My colleagues are going to be so worried.” More to himself than anything, he added, “They might steal my work. I need to get back.”

“You’re from 90 YEARS IN THE FUTURE?!” Roman grabbed me Logan’s hand and ran to his house just down the street, slamming the door behind him when they entered. “So, first things first, am I like a big deal in the future?”

“Really, that's your first question.” Logan rolled his eyes when it seemed Roman was entirely serious. “Sigh. I honestly don’t know, I didn’t get out much.”

“Okay, did you just say sigh?” Logan just stared blankly at Roman until he continued. “Next up, how are we getting you back to your time?”

“We? I was planning to do this alone so there are no...” He looked Roman up and down. “Complications.”

“Ugh, rude. I know my way around here I can help and I’m pretty sure you don’t own a house ninety years in the past. Please let me help! My life is soooooo boring.” Roman shook Logan, begging the other to let him help.

“Fine.”

Over the next few hours, Logan started explaining what he needed to get back. Roman barely understood half of what Logan was saying, understandably as one was a scientist and the other was not. Soon it was 10 pm and they were both very tired from the previous events, so Logan borrowed some of Romans pyjamas and they both fell asleep, Logan on the sofa and Roman in his bed.

The next day was a Saturday so Logan and Roman had plenty of time to gather everything they needed. It was only a matter of making the concoction and getting back to Logan’s own time.

It had reached November by the time they had finished it. The potion swirled with oranges and yellows practically glowing, even in the light.

“We almost did it, oh yeah!” Roman started dancing wildly around the once clean room, now covered in different shades of the rainbow as the light shone through the tubes.

“We’ve almost done it. And be careful, you’re going to knock over my hard work.”

“Rude, we did this together.”

“I did most of it though. Changing the subject, I just need to figure out what to put in to go forward to my time.”

“Ooh, ooh, try the red thingy! It looks really cool.”

“NO!” Roman stepped back in shock. “Sorry for raising my voice but that’s how I got here in the first place. I’ll use this one instead.” Logan grabbed a tube filled with light blue and purple and poured it into the mixture. A sudden flash of light later and both Roman and Logan were somewhere new, sweating in the immense heat that had just blasted into them.

Patton and Virgil

Virgil awoke to the smell of honey and warm bread. “Nooooo, it’s too early,” he whispered.

“Oh, hey Virge, you’re up… kinda.” Patton shook Virgil gently. “Come on it's already 9, you have to do your duties.” A slight chuckle came from Patton.

“Ha, ha very funny.” Virgil rolled over and yawned. “You know how much I hate this.” Virgil started to get dressed into his tattered linen clothes; he was often pressured into getting something more princely but always refused.

He looked around the room. It was bare apart from a few paintings of the family and the two beds, one that Patton had decorated with teddy bears he had gotten over the years. Their mum always looked so elegant in the paintings, however, their dad looked annoyed with having to stay in the same position for so long that he almost looked like a teenager annoyed at his parents.

“Yeah, I know but you have to get ready to become the pharaoh sooner or later, so either way it’s going to happen.” Virgil frowned a bit at that “Okay, we need to go to breakfast. You coming?”

“Fine, fine.” Virgil and Patton left the room together trying to navigate the twists and turns of the temple. The walls smelt earthy and were covered in ornate golden swirls.

As they entered the dining room the servants escorted them to their cushioned seats and served them sweet honey bread and delicate meats. Virgil just played with his food as his parents dragged on about him being late for breakfast and what duties he had.

“Please stop playing with your food and actually eat it,” His mother sighed.

“Whatever, mum.” Virgil stood up and started walking out of the room.

“Get back here, we haven’t finished this conversation.” Virgil paused and turned back toward his family, leaning on the door frame, knowing if he didn’t finish this conversation now, he would have to later. Virgil had heard this lecture a hundred times, so he already knew what was coming.

“You know we love you, but you have to start taking your duties seriously if you want to be a good pharaoh and stop leaning on the walls you’re going to ruin your clothes.” Virgil mouthed the words simultaneously with his mother.

Patton wasn’t paying attention to the conversation instead choosing to focus more on his food.

“I’m gonna go now. Bye.” Virgil left and tried to politely wave off the servants trying to escort him to his lessons. Patton stopped eating and ran off to Virgil. “I’m fine Pat,” Virgil insisted before Patton could ask.

“I know you’re not. Come on, I hate it when you, mum and dad fight.”

“Didn’t count as a fight Pat. Just a disagreement.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m not gonna make my special dessert tonight.” Virgil groaned and crossed his arms slightly curling in on himself, pouting. Patton just giggled. “Viiirge, Virgyyy, Virrrge.” Patton poked Virgil as he dramatically whined. “Oh, no. Have I upset my prince, talk to me, brother!”

“My prince?” Virgil chuckled.

“Yay! Words from my dark strange son!”

“We’re brothers, you are not my dad, you’re, like, less than a year younger than me.”

They walked the rest of the way chuckling as Patton mimicked his parents in an attempt to keep Virgil’s spirits up. Virgil was very prone to anxiety, stress and guilt and Patton often helped him find coping mechanisms or just keeping him happy.

The main lesson today was camel riding (they were better in the sweltering heat than horses). Virgil hated it, he always fell off at least once, Patton, however, could ride for days without falling. He loved all animals, even if he was allergic to some of them.

Virgil could only last in the heat for four hours before he had to go inside or risk heatstroke. Patton could last a little bit longer before he needed to go inside too.

It had been yet another unsuccessful camel riding lesson for Virgil, earning him a record-breaking seven times falling off in various fashions. He now had several bruises and a small scratch on his elbow. After swatting off Patton, insisting he was fine, Virgil walked most of the way to the throne room before a large flash of light and the sudden appearance of two men he’d never seen before.

Virgil swore very loudly. “Osiris help me. What happened? Give me a minute.” Virgil panted, leaning one hand against the wall as support. Roman and Logan looked at each other with looks of confusion and worry. This was not where they were supposed to be. “Okay, okay, I’m good now. Now onto the matter at hand. WHO ARE YOU!?”

“Stop shouting, you’ll draw attention to us.” Roman stage whispered as Logan glanced around the hall to make sure there were no other people.

“We’re good.” Logan whispered to Roman as he started heading towards the room closest to them, yanking a now worried Virgil behind him.

“LET GO OF ME!” Virgil tugged his arm back once in the room. luckily, the room they entered was just a spare bedroom. “Who are you, I’ll get the guards.”

“Good luck getting out of this room.” Roman moved in front of the door.

“Okay, I’m sure we can talk about this. Roman lower your protective stance, there’s not much point guarding the door.”

“How do we know we can trust him, hmm?” Roman said not moving.

“Because, clearly, he’s afraid. Look at him. It’s not like he could do anything anyway.”

Virgil looked annoyed. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“See, he’s threatening us right now!”

“Sorry about him.” Logan gestured towards Roman.

“Hey.”

“Roman, stop whining. May I know your name?”

“Only if you tell me yours.”

“I’m Logan and, as I believe I said earlier, this is Roman.” Logan said indicating whom he was talking about.

Don’t trust anyone. especially with your identity These words rattled around Virgils head, his father had told him this ages ago and it had always stuck with him.

“Okay. I’m…. Anxiety.”

“Huh, that’s a weird name.”

Logan sighed. “Roman, shut up. We need to know what the date is, if you would be so kind?”

Virgil furrowed his brow. “1557, I think.” Logan stared at Virgil, eyes wide in worry.

“We only went back a few hundred years, and we already know all of the stuff we need so why do you look so worried?”

“I don’t think we just went back a few hundred years’. Ancient Egypt was in the B.C’s which means we went back over a thousand years. We might not have the stuff available to fix this.” Logan’s eyes started leaking tears. “I’m never going to be able to go home. I never told my family I loved them and now I’m going to be stuck here forever or die!” Roman was shook. He, in the few months he’d known Logan, had never seen Logan cry.

Virgil shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I can get him some support if you let me leave. I know a person who is amazing at feelings and that stuff. Let me get some help.”

Roman nodded and moved to a dusty bed, his own mind was racing now with similar thoughts. When Virgil returned he now saw Roman crying too.

“Okay, Pat, do your thing.” Patton nodded and lifted Logan to the bed so he could hug both of them. He let them cry on him until their tear ducts were empty. Logan stood up after removing himself from the hug, adjusted his tie and wiped his eyes.

“Sorry for that.”

“Why are you apologizing kiddo?”

“I caused an inconvenience.”

Roman finally stood up too and fixed his clothing. “You never cry. To be honest I was starting to think you were a machine. Good to know you have emotions.” Logan jokingly scoffed, he was kind of used to it at this point.

“You not going to introduce me to your friends, kiddo?” Patton turned towards Virgil.

“Patton, meet Logan and Roman. Logan, Roman, meet Patton. My brother.”

“Salutations.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Apologies, Patton, Anxiety. But we must be going if we are to return to our own time..s.”

“Where are you going to sleep? What are you going to eat? I can’t let my kiddos starve.”

“Kiddos?” Logan stared at Patton, ignoring the questions for the time being. “I am unfamiliar with this term.”

“Don't tell me the word kiddo doesn't exist in the future!”

Logan shrugged, “I’m not sure. I’ve never heard it before but I didn’t, as they say, ‘get out much’.”

“Me neither. The outside world is much too scary.” Virgil shuddered.

“Not so much scary as annoying. And I had no friends to go anywhere with.”

“That’s so sad!” Patton hugs a very awkward Logan.

“Shouldn’t have told him that…” Virgil mutters, not making any move to help Logan. “Well, you’re my friend now, and I will help you get home. but you’re staying with me.” Logan tries to dislodge himself from the hug, but fails.

“There isn’t much point in friendship, I’d rather not.”

“Too bad! We’re friends now and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Logan sighs and accepts his fate.

Patton releases Logan. “You kiddos feeling better?” Roman nods and Logan regains his neutral expression.

“Yes.”

The next week isn’t completely without its troubles. They almost get caught several times and Virgil returns to the room they agreed to meet at to work on the project, groaning and refusing to help sometimes after arguments with his parents. By the time the week has ended they have gathered all the things they need. Logan sits, trying to concentrate on the potion as Roman sings loudly and Patton makes jokes in the background. He almost drops the vial he was holding when Roman belts out a note. “Shut up!”

Everyone freezes. “I’m trying to get us back to our times and your loud, annoying displays aren’t helping! I want to go home…” Patton steps closer as Logan sniffles, even if he was ignored back then, at least he was happy. He had a family, and a nice home and a cat that made sure he was taking care of himself. Emile...he missed Emile so much, that special tabby cat…

Logan felt tears prick at his eyes. “what if we never get home?..” The dam broke as Logan sobbed into his arms. “Aw, kiddo...you’re going to get home. I know you will!”

“But I might not… I should have just listened to them when they said I wasn’t good enough..”

“Who said that?! I will destroy them!!” Roman grabs a pen Logan had on the table and holds it as if it were a weapon.

Logan takes his pen back. “Careful, you’re not a professional in murder.”

“.....” the whole group falls silent as they stare at Logan. “and you are?...”

Logan shrugs. “I’ve read books, hurt a few people.”

They stare in disbelief at him. “That’s interesting..”

“Self defense is important and now I can be either FBI or an assassin when I’m done with my current career.”

“What’s an FBI?”

“Federal Bureau of Investigation.” The three pretend to have understood that with small nods and noises of agreement. Logan isn’t falling for any of it but he’s going to ignore it as these people won’t ever see it. “Can we just try to get back to our own times?”

“I guess, but I’m gonna miss you kiddo’s.” Logan nods in agreement, sighing quietly as he picks back up the concoction and the dark blue vial. “I guess we should say goodbye before I do this?”

Virgil doesn’t speak, not wanting to say goodbye, and hugs Logan gently instead before walking over to Roman and hugging him too. Patton did the same and Logan did nothing, not wanting to drop the important liquids he was holding. Roman, in true Roman style, sang a goodbye song before Logan poured the blue into the mixture of swirling colours.The rift reopened and sucked Logan in.

Back to the future

He smiled widely as he looked around at the lab only for his jaw to drop at the sight of tunic clad Patton and Virgil and suit covered Roman to be standing there to. Logan dropped is head into his hands, sighing. “Do I have to do this again?..”

“What’s wrong with being around me?” Roman swoops his hair back, smiling. “Although, this isn’t my home..” He looks around confused as Patton hums and opens the blinds. Logan looks up, hissing at the sudden light only to freeze at the floating cars outside.

Virgil starts shaking, new place, cold place, no. Need to leave, not safe. Roman picks up Virgil, who’d fallen to the floor, and holds him to his chest, letting the other listen to his steady heartbeat as Virgil slowly calms down.

“Where are we?”

“I believe we have gone too far in time, into the future.” Logan pushes up his glasses, acting calm. Patton giggles and claps. “That’s so weird! I think it’s cool too though. What are those?” He points the the hovering vehicles outside.

“Updated cars.” Logan fixes his tie and smiles as Emile, the cat, walks into the lab. He’s older than he used to be, but still has the same kind presence as he brushes up against Logan’s leg, who leans down and picks him up in response.

Patton walks over, about to pet the cat before Virgil jumps off Roman and stands in front of him. “No, Pat. No. You can’t.” Patton sighs and pouts.

“Pwease!” Virgil shakes his head.

“Fine, then can we find some doggo’s to pet?” Patton perks up at the thought.

Logan puts Emile back down after nuzzling him and nods. “Emi can stay here, he knows how to look after himself anyway.” He starts walking out of the lab, to the outside with Roman, Patton and Virgil following.

Logan looks around, admiring the faster technology. Patton just looks around for dogs with Virgil. Roman put his arm on Logan’s shoulder. “So, you gonna show us what this is or not?”

Logan is about to respond, only to be frozen at a sudden shout of his name by a complete stranger. The whole crowd of people look over and suddenly Logan and his friends are surrounded as they try to get him away. “WHAT THE HELL!?!” Logan clings to Roman and Patton who try to pull him back into the lab with Virgil shaking at the loud screams and cheers.

Virgil is the first to get back inside, followed by Logan, then Roman and Patton who shut the doors quickly. Logan’s shirt is ruffled, with his collar half and tie loose. His hair is a big mess, fluffing out all over the place, with his glasses lopsided. “What the hell..” Logan quickly fixes his glasses, shirt and tie before searching for a mirror, only to be handed one by Roman. Of course he always carries a mirror on him.

Logan fixes his hair, pushing it back to its previous position before giving the mirror back and closing the blinds on the large crowd. “Heckity heck, five abs and one peck.” Roman sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“What?” Logan stares at Roman in confusion.

“Oh it’s just something I use to make sure everyone else is as confused as me.” Roman shrugged slightly. “Where is the light? It’s dark.”

Logan sighs and snaps his fingers to create a sudden glow from all the corners and centre of the room. “A little trick I designed years ago.” He walks over to one of the glowing things to show it’s a mini aquarium filled with tiny sharks, all glowing in the dark.

Patton’s excited squeal was expected as he rushed over to one of the tanks and sat down, watching them move about in the water. “Pwetty...” Virgil sits by Patton and leans on him, calming down from the panic the crowd caused.

Roman hums looking around. “Hey, Lo. Did we stand out because of the weird clothes they were all wearing and we aren’t?”

Logan freezes for a moment before nodding. “That could be it, however I did hear someone ask ‘how does it feel to be famous for inventing time travel?’ so I may very well draw a lot of attention just by being me.” He sighs and walks over to a draw in the corner of the room before throwing a white button up shirt, red jacket and black jeans. “Put those on.”

“Hey!” Roman caught them and went to throw something back at Logan before realising he had no idea what any of this did, so he probably shouldn’t throw anything around.

Logan walked over to Patton and Virgil, after some consideration and handed them a pair of jeans each, a ripped shirt, a polo, a grey cardigan and an oversized hoodie. Logan made it a point to have extra of his outfits, as well as anything anyone else might need.

Patton and Virgil got changed in one corner while Roman got changed in another, Logan looking away to give them all privacy. They took a while, not used to this kind of clothing, but when they were finally dressed the outfits suited them well. Virgil was able to hide into the hoodie, Patton was in a bright blue that perfectly fit his personality and Roman was checking himself out in his mirror.

Logan rolled his eyes and peeked through the blinds to see if the crowd had left. They hadn’t, of course. Logan sighs and walks out past the lab and into a smaller room, grabbing a bowl and some cereal. “We might be stuck here for a while.” He sighs quietly and makes the cereal before eating it and closing his eyes to think.

If you knew Logan well, and these three did, you would know there are only 2 times Logan’s eyes are closed for more than needed. Reason one: He’s asleep or, reason two: He’s thinking. He’s thinking so much the rest of the world isn’t there.

Patton skips around the lab, waiting for Logan to come back so he can see what he’s allowed to do. He takes a while, he usually does, before walking back into the lab, smiling. “Pat and Ro, can you go out the front and say I’ve left? Virge, follow me.” He smirks and takes Virgil’s hand without an explanation before leading him down, past the smaller room, down a hallway and into a secret passage.

Roman and Patton were confused but went outside anyway, once the other two had left. “I’m sorry but Lo..gan left! You can all leave now!” Patton smiles softly as he speaks. “How do we know you’re not lying? You are his boyfriends, you two and the dark one.”

Roman stifled giggles before bursting into laughter. “You think I’m dating that nerd! No, no, no, no, no, he’s aro and definitely not my type.” Patton laughs along, nodding. “I’m not even a boy! I can’t be dating Ro!”

“You’re not?” Patton freezes and gulps, shaking his head as the crowd disappeared to them both. “I’m not really any gender...I don’t know if there’s a word for it though..” Roman nods slightly, jumping at the sudden shout of “Non-binary” from the crowd. Someone stepped forward, a smaller person following behind. The first wore an orange beanie and the other wore makeup. “Joan.” The first one said. “I go by they/them and I’m non-binary.”

The second speaks up, even if it’s quieter. “I’m Tayln, also a they/them nb.” Patton froze, starting to smile. “Non-binary? So not a boy or girl?..” Talyn and Joan nod as Patton starts clapping, the crowd mostly gone. “Non-binary! That’s me! I’m that!”

Roman smiles at his happy, bouncing cardigan clad friend. “So, are you gonna go by they/them too?” Patton shakes his head.

“I like he/him.” Roman nods slightly and lightly pats Patton’s back. “Glad you found who you are.”

Patton hums as he walks around outside, too happy to remember what the next step was. He skips straight into Logan anyway, smiling, Roman close behind. “Logie! I found it out!” Logan is confused as he sighs, Virgil’s hiding behind him but he comes out when he sees Patton. “What?”

“Non-binary! I’m non-binary!” Patton jumped around, making Virgil smile slightly. It’s a rare thing, but that just makes it more beautiful. “Oh, are you changing your pronouns then?”

“What?”

“He/him, she/her, they/them, xe/xir. They’re all pronouns.” Logan sighs quietly, letting a slight smile slip. All of them liked seeing Patton happy and they would protect him at all costs. “Oh. No, I’m still a he/him, I just don’t get the whole gender thingy.” They all nod. “Great..” Virgil hugs Patton quickly before looking away and catching sight of a grocery store. “What’s that?”

Logan looks over. “Why don’t I show you?” He takes a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on, placing his normal glasses into his pocket (but he can still see and it is baffling the others), loosening his tie and putting on a leather jacket he’d grabbed on his way out. “This is uncomfortable.” He sighs and walks across the street and into the store, getting a few looks but no one seemed to notice him.

Virgil hid in his new hoodie as they walked, Patton skipping alongside and Roman humming. Logan looked around the store, smiling widely once he found the crofters. “Oh thank the gods, they still have crofters.” He looks across the labels and freezes. “and they have one named after me..” He picks up a flavour named ‘Logans berry’ and drops it in the shopping basket he’d grabbed on the way in.

Virgil and Patton had disappeared, distracted by a small section with fluffy animals in bright or dark colours. Roman sighs and takes Logan’s hand, dragging him along to the others. Virgil was hugging a black bat while Patton was holding a puppy teddy close. “Can we get them? Please!!”

Logan nods, who can deny Patton’s perfect puppy dog eyes next to a puppy teddy? He just hopes he has enough money as he gets the usual things he’d get to last the week only four times as much as now he had four people to look after instead of just himself. Roman, Patton and Virgil were looking around in wonder. Patton and Virgil had never seen a light or a wall like the ones they had. Roman was mainly checking himself out in every reflective surface he could find.

Logan sighs as he takes Patton’s hand, who was holding Virgil’s hand, and starts walking over to the cashier to pay, leaving Roman to fend for himself. He swipes his credit card, only to freezes and try to cover the name showing up on the screen. “Are you really?! Oh my gosh! I’m such a big fan!”

Logan groans quietly. “I’ll do anything, just shut up. You’re going to draw attention.” Virgil hugs his new black bat teddy close, smiling softly.

The cashier nods slightly and takes out some paper, holding it and a pen out to Logan. “Can I get an autograph?” Logan rolls his eyes as he does what the person asked and gives them back their things before leaving, Roman finally noticing the others weren’t around any more and following them out.

Logan sighs quietly and rushes back to the lab with the others. “I need to change that…” Virgil never lets go of the bat, always nuzzling or flying it around. It’s like he’s getting the childhood he was never able to have. “Change what, kiddo?”

“My card shows my name and I don’t want...that to happen again.” Logan says, referencing the crowd situation as he puts the food away and gets some water and cat food out for Emile, petting him gently as he walks over to eat. Patton nods slightly, smiling at Virgil.

Roman smiles at the little squeaks and bleps Virgil does as he flies the bat around. Logan takes out his phone and starts videoing it, saving it so they can all smile and have a happy memory to look on in the future. The future’s future…

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

#sanders sides #Joan #Tayln #Logan #Roman #Virgil #Patton #Egypt #olden times #crying #swearing #mean family #small injuries #shouting #bat teddy #Logan is babysitting #big bang 2019

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glittertomb · 5 years

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Eating Cleaner Tricks

Want tacos but nervous about the high fat content? Yogurt is a great sour cream alternative for tacos and has loads of probiotics for digestive health (and no lactose because it’s broken down during the heating process). Lettuce wraps add a fresh flavor and texture if you want to skip flour or corn tortillas. And when I make tacos, there are so many yummy ingredients like roasted corn and potatoes, carmelized onions and peppers, fresh tomatoes and homemade guacamole, or spicy black beans and fresh herbs, that I don’t even notice when there isn’t cheese or meat.

Did you make hummus but it has a weird texture? I’m an expert at ruining good food and not being able to afford more, so I came up with this trick to save my hummus the other day. I threw it in a pan and made veggie burger patties, and now the crispy, warm texture on the outside overrides my qualms with the lumpiness and grainy-ness of the hummus. Make some homemade tzatziki (yogurt, cucumber, garlic, salt, and lemon) and throw it in a wrap with some fresh greens.

Want to make a healthy breakfast but don’t have time in the morning? The night before, mix eggs and whatever veggies you have in a bowl with a little salt and pepper, and laddle the mixture into a muffin pan. Throw it in the oven for about 20 minutes and now you have little egg and veggie “muffins” that you can pop into the microwave during your morning routine. Pro tip: if you’re going to use spinach, pre-cook it and drain as much liquid as you can out of it, otherwise your egg bundles with look a little dr. seuss-y. ;)

Want to buy fresh produce but it goes bad before you can use it? Smoothies, baby. Buying a blender can be expensive, but you will save so much money by not throwing rotten food away. The second my bananas start going brown, my celery starts getting limp, or my kale starts to yellow, I throw it in my freezer’s “smoothie tub” so I can use it for months to come. My favorite things to save are apples, ginger, bananas, cucumber, celery, kale, pitted fruits, melon, and oranges. I’ll cut up most of the fruits and veggies... but leave bananas in the peel or they get yucky! Take the banana out 10 minutes before you make your smoothie and by that time the peel will come off easily.

Feel bad about throwing away zucchini stems, broccoli ends, carrot tops, and celery stalks? Save it for soup! I also have a “soup tub” in my freezer where I save the “undesirable bits” of mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, and any other vegetable that would go well in a soup broth. Another good idea is to get a turtle, lizard, rat, hamster, or rabbit. They’ll help keep ends and leafy greens out of the bin (just make sure to do your research on what they can and cannot eat!). My hamster cage is close to my cutting board and my favorite part of the morning is seeing the little whiskers twitch as she’s half asleep but can smell me preparing her favorite veggie ends.

Love to drink tea but don’t always have “tea time”? Make a huge vat of iced tea and keep it in the fridge so you can easily grab a glass without the time, hassle, or mess. I find that as a fully-fledged Adult ™, the thought of extra work, even for things I love, is exhausting, so I’ll drink more tea if it’s already prepared and all I have to do is pour. When making iced tea, you’ll want to use extremely hot water to get the most from the infusion (unless you’re making green or white tea, because they are more delicate). I would tell you the ratios, but it’s extremely dependent upon the company, how old the tea is, and whether or not it’s loose leaf, so that’s an experiment for you to try. Lean on the side of less water cause it’s easier to dilute.

I’ll add more things as I think of them. :)

#personal #food #inspiration #health

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theoutrageouspetblogger-blog · 5 years

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What your dog can FUCKING chew on!

So you’ve got a dog in your life. It’s full of love, full of goofy antics and of course unconditional love. You know what else it’s getting full of? FUCKING POISON because YOU went to the pet store uneducated. But it’s okay because this post is here to tell you how to NOT fill your cute little puppykins with fucking poison!

Did you somehow decide getting a puppy was a good idea? Teething puppies are fucking sharks okay? They will shove anything in their mouth for some relief. Your shoes! Your TV remote! Your Cell Phone! They are in a shit ton of pain because their adult teeth are busting through their gums! Is your older dog chewing? It’s probably because it’s bored out of it’s mind. Older dogs chew when they are bored, when they are stressed the fuck out and when they are filled with RAGE. It’s important that YOU go into the store with an idea of what kind of chewing your dog is capable of...on a scale of 1 to a Fucking Wood Chipper. How much does your dog chew? Where in his big flappy mouth does he hold the chew? Front? Back? Side?

Now it is important to recognize that ANY chew you give your dog can pose DANGER. A bone that is too hard may result in a broken tooth! ANY dog can try to swallow a bone too large for it (THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID) and any chew can pose a choking hazard to a dog. The bone should be bigger than it’s big mouth! (That’s also what she said!)

There is a huge fucking mess of bones, plastic, and garbage in the treat aisle of a pet store! Some chews are great. Some chews are FUCKING POISON!

Let’s start with the most popular chew! THAT’S RIGHT THE POISONOUS CHOKING HAZARD. The one you can find at the dollar store, or basically any store that offers a pet section! Rawhide. Stores are littered with this shit and it’s ridiculous. It comes in many different shitty sizes and colors. FECES BROWN, INDUSTRIAL WASTELAND RED, aaaaaaaand BLEACHED ASS WHITE! Rawhide is a by product of the Leather industry and it is bathed in a nice healthy batch of DANGEROUS FUCKING chemicals before it is delivered to store shelves and sold for your cute little pupper! Well now that you hopefully aren’t going to give your dog this damn poison called Rawhide. I bet you are gonna wanna go with the next best thing! That’s right. Give your dog a nice mouthful of some fucking manufactured molded plastic! These widely popular chews take up a majority of the pet chew aisle. They are different flavors and shapes....just like the rawhide! Except it’s chunks of fucking plastic that tell you on the package blatantly that you are throwing your money in a god damn garbage can! If your dog breaks off any tiny pieces off of this shit (which it will because your dog has jaws...and these are made of plastic) you are supposed to dispose of the chew. I don’t know about you...but my dog would have pieces all over the place in like 5 minutes! Sure some dogs probably do well with this shit and don’t break off pieces but come on...do I even need to explain why you shouldn’t feed your cute little smooshy puppy FUCKING PLASTIC?

Well there goes half the fucking treat aisle! Great...now you’re probably like. Well what the hell can I give this fucking shark? He’s eating everything except my girlfriends pussy!!! ....Stop....I meant her CAT you sick fuck! Don’t worry we aren’t done! Let’s move onto the shit you should actually feed your dog? Why? Because it’s digestible! Your dog can eat this shit and DIGEST IT...and IT’S NOT FUCKING POISON!

Wanna know what one of the best chews your can get your dog is? A nice solid bull cock! A Bully Stick! Sometimes marketed as pizzle or a HIGH PROTEIN beef muscle! They come in all shapes, sizes and colors just like the rawhide, and nylabones...but this is all natural! Most sticks start at 6′’ and go all the way up to 36′’. Careful now you want to select the right sized cock for your dog not too big and not to small. It’s important to find one that is just right! I highly suggest you get odorless ones or you will have to evacuate your fucking house till your pupper is done slobbering all over that thing. I’m not even playing, these things REEK. So do yourself a fucking favor and get an odorless one! Supervise your dog and make sure he doesn’t get that cock too small and choke on it! Bully sticks are fanfuckingtastic for dogs of all ages and sizes!

Alright so you want your dog to feel like it has a rawhide because the bull cock just isn’t where you want your dog to be? Here’s an option. I present the Earth Animal NO HIDE Chew! With Limited Ingredients this mixture of flavor, gelatin, brown rice, flour and eggs, Olive Oil, Banana, and bromelain is rolled up to look just like the chemical cluster fuck also known as rawhide...but it isn’t. This is DIGESTIBLE and makes the flavored rawhide look exactly like what it is...GARBAGE. No Hide Chews some smothered in delicious flavors like Pork, Chicken, Salmon and Beef. They also come in different sizes for different size puppers. The price point is a little more for these guys, but it’s either pay a little more now or get fucked in the ass by veterinary bills later! Here is some more information about these glorious chews:

Link: https://www.earthanimal.com/c/for-dogs/dog-treats/no-hide-dog-chews/

Now comes the best of the best in my book. The Himalayan Chew. Holy shit, the people that decided to start giving these things to dogs are geniuses! This bad ass thing only has 4 ingredients ....4! Yak Milk, Cow Milk, Lime Juice and Salt and it’s hardened into this weird phallic shaped block that is literally cheese! Even people eat this stuff! They range in color from brown, to sort of brown to yellow to some weird pink, orange salmon color? Not only that but this bad boy is two treats in fucking one! When your dog gets down to the end of this thing you can go on and take it away and place that puppy in the microwave for like 30-45 seconds. (Figure of speech...do not put your dog in the microwave...PLEASE) POOF IT’S A WHOLE OTHER TREAT MOTHERFUCKER! This crazy YAK MILK CHEESE SHIT just poofed up into a cheese puff that is easily chewed by your dog and it’s also 100% DIGESTIBLE! Just wait for it to cool and give your good boy the last part of that delicious thing! Hell even try it yourself. The people in the Himalayas do! Dogs of all ages and sizes love these damn things and it’s safe on even the most sensitive of dog stomachs.

I hope this article has shed some light and cleared up information about the aisle you see at the stores full of chews and you can make better choices to help keep your dog alive! I definitely didn’t mention all the chews available as there are still horns, filled shin bones, knuckle bones and all that shit! Use your judgement and READ shit before giving your dog these items. On a last note for this post: Never ever give your dog cooked fucking bones from chicken or other meats you have cooked. Those bones will splinter to hell and cause a path of destruction in your dog. You will regret it. Anyhoo you and your dog(s) have a great day!

#dogowners #chewsfordogs #petcare #learnaboutdogs #offensive #blatant #outrageous #nohidechews #dogs #puppy #puppylove #education #chew

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filosofablogger · 4 years

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Saturday Surprise has been on hiatus for a few weeks, and likely would have remained so this week, but for our friend Ellen who gave me a heads-up that this week, the week of June 22 – June 28, happens to be National Pollinator Week! Once I knew that, I felt compelled to share it with you, and I thought it might be fun for us all.

If you’re like me, the first thing that comes to mind when you hear ‘pollinator’ is the bee. And rightfully so, as there are 20,000 bee species in the world, many of them hearty pollinators without whom our food supply would be in serious trouble. But they aren’t the only animals moving pollen from the stamen of one flower to the stigma of another. Earth is home to a host of weird and unusual pollinators that ensure both food crops and wild flowering plants complete their life cycle. Let’s take a look at a few …

Take the chocolate midges — small flies no bigger than poppy seeds, and the primary pollinators of cacao plants. The intricate petals of the dime-sized flowers curl down over the plant’s stamen where the pollen is made, making it difficult for larger pollinators to access. It takes many midges to gather pollen and fertilize another flower. They toil away at dusk and dawn and prefer dense shady rainforest habitats like those in the Amazon basin. Without them, chocolate would be much harder to come by.

Chocolate Midge

Or how about the clearwing hummingbird moths that hover in front of long-necked flowers, where they unroll their long tongues, insert them inside and sip the nectar, collecting pollen as they go. With their yellowish-brown or green and black bodies, and (often) clear, red-framed wings that sound like their namesake, people are sometimes confused by what they are looking at.

Clearwing Hummingbird Moth

But insects aren’t the only pollinators. There are about 2,000 species of pollinating birds worldwide, including honeycreepers, honeyeaters, sunbirds, and some parrots. With its bright green, red, blue, orange and yellow plumage, one that really stands out is the rainbow lorikeet, native to Australia and Indonesia. While sipping nectar from flowers like those of the yellow gum, pollen attaches to their foreheads and throat, and even to tiny fingers on their tongue called papillae where it hitches a ride to the next flower.

Collared Sunbird

Rainbow Lorikeet

And mammals can also be pollinators. Now, a lot of people don’t like bats, and admittedly I don’t like anything flying into my face, or getting tangled in my hair, but I think bats are cute.

Bats are responsible for pollinating over 500 plant species, including types of mango, banana, durian, guava and agave (used to make tequila). Bats work at night and are attracted to pale flowers, unlike many of their daytime colleagues. Some, like the Mexican long-tongued bat, are really specialized for the job with a long skinny tongue that can reach into tube-shaped flowers.

Mexican long-tongued bat

And then there’s the ruffed lemur, a black and white primate from Madagascar, that gets pollen on its snout while gorging on nectar from traveler’s palms.

Ruffed Lemur

Even lizards pollinate. The sleek Noronha skink of the island Fernando de Noronha off of northeastern Brazil appears to pollinate mulungu trees, known for their fabulously weird orangey-pink flowers. Pollen collects on its scales when it’s sipping nectar and brushes up against the flowers’ stamens. The same is thought to be true of snow skinks in Tasmania, who get pollen on their scales after tearing apart the peachy red flowers of the Richea scoparia plant.

Noronha Skink

The list of non-bee pollinators goes on and on, including slugs, butterflies, wasps and many species of beetles. And those are just the ones we know about—scientists are still discovering new connections between plants and the animals that help them reproduce. And with bees so vulnerable to environmental change, a better appreciation of all pollinators and the roles they play will be essential to better crop management and the protection of wild plants in the future.

Now about National Pollinator Week. In recognition of the significance of a stable pollinator population, the Pollinator Partnership (formerly the Coevolution Institute) collaborating with the National Fish & Wildlife Foundation, established the North American Pollinator Protection Campaign (NAPPC) in 1999. Their goals were to …

coordinate local, national, and international projects in the areas of pollinator research, education and awareness, conservation and restoration, policies and practices, and partnership initiatives,

aid communication among stakeholders, build coalitions, and leverage existing resources,

demonstrate a positive measurable impact on the populations and health of pollinating animals within five years.

And in 2006, the U.S. Senate passed a Resolution to protect pollinators and designated the first National Pollinator Week as June 24–30, 2007. The U.S. Postal Service even got in on the act and issued a “Pollination” stamp series released in June 2007.

So, what can we do? Bees are still the most common pollinator for most of us, and the bee population, as I have written before, is in serious trouble. Miss Goose and I have planted bee-friendly flower seeds in our tiny front yard, and there is a flower/plant that just popped up a couple of years ago in the front of our yard that is home to both caterpillars and bees. The U.S. Department of Agriculture has a list of 7 things that most any of us can do to help the pollinators:

Use pollinator-friendly plants in your landscape. Shrubs and trees such as dogwood, blueberry, cherry, plum, willow, and poplar provide pollen or nectar, or both, early in spring when food is scarce.

Choose a mixture of plants for spring, summer, and fall. Different flower colors, shapes, and scents will attract a wide variety of pollinators. If you have limited space, you can plant flowers in containers on a patio, balcony, and even window boxes.

Reduce or eliminate pesticide use in your landscape, or incorporate plants that attract beneficial insects for pest control. If you use pesticides, use them sparingly and responsibly.

Accept some plant damage on plants meant to provide habitat for butterfly and moth larvae.

Provide clean water for pollinators with a shallow dish, bowl, or birdbath with half-submerged stones for perches.

Leave dead tree trunks, also called “snags,” in your landscape for wood-nesting bees and beetles.

Support land conservation in your community by helping to create and maintain community gardens and green spaces to ensure that pollinators have appropriate habitat.

I hope you’ve enjoyed learning a bit about other pollinators and enjoyed the pictures. Now, get out there and plant some bee-friendly flowers … it’s not too late! Have a great weekend, my friends!

Saturday Surprise — National Pollinator Week! Saturday Surprise has been on hiatus for a few weeks, and likely would have remained so this week, but for our friend Ellen who gave me a heads-up that this week, the week of June 22 – June 28, happens to be National Pollinator Week!

#bats #bee stamps #bees #chocolate midge #clearwing hummingbird moth #rainbow lorikeet #U.S. Postal Service

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