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vilevenom · 16 days

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Hello @90svn!! Thank you for your request and sweet comment ❤️

I took this request as a personal challenge, because Trollex has a whole 5 minutes of screentime in World Tour, and only maybe eight voice lines. Very hard to get a good read on a character with such a short appearance, but I did my best!

Hope you enjoy!~

To say that Clay felt overwhelmed was putting it mildly. Reuniting with his brothers had been one thing. Heck, even reintegrating the putt putt trolls with pop village had been a drain on his mental and social batteries, but he'd muddled through. However, following Viva along to royal meet and greets and council meetings was just too much. He felt out of his depths in so many ways. Sure, he'd helped co-run the golf course, and a lot of the rules and regulations that kept the place stable had been his doing, but there was just so much more to all of the other kingdoms. Not to mention the fact that he didn't really feel like the other leaders necessarily took him and Viva seriously. He was an ex-boyband member with no political background, and Viva had been unintentionally usurped as queen by her younger sister. They didn't exactly fit the standard leader stereotypes.

This latest meeting, to discuss territory laws and transportation between kingdoms had initially intrigued Clay, and when Viva all but begged him to go with her so she wouldn't be bored, he'd happily agreed. Now he sort of wished he'd stayed home. As much as he had thoughts on what was going on, absolutely no one in the room paid he or Viva much, if any, mind. They were treated more like Poppy's entourage than leaders of a subdivision of Pop trolls. Even Branch was getting asked more questions than either of them.

He was about to suggest to Viva that they leave, since no one seemed to really care what they had to say, when the door to the meeting room burst open, and the king of the techno trolls floated in, grin on his face.

"Sorry I'm late," Trollex laughed as he moved across the room to take his seat, "Last nights rave went on a bit longer than I had anticipated."

Clay rolled his eyes, sinking down further into his seat. He'd seen the techno king from afar a few times before, but he never struck Clay as the type to take anything seriously. He was always talking about the parties the techno trolls threw, never seeming to have a serious thought in his head. He figured, from here, the meeting could only go further downhill.

He, of course, hadn't been paying attention to what was being said due to his miserable ruminating, so hadn't caught that he'd been directly addressed. Not until Viva elbowed him squarely in the rub cage, anyway. He grunted, sitting himself up with a quick frown shot to his best friend, who simply grinned back at him. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said," Trollex waved his hand at Clay to get his attention, his previous grin and chipper attitude seemingly gone, "What do you think about the implication of having trolls of multiple genres potentially staying all in one place? Since regional customs and attitudes are so wildly different, it opens up a massive amount of safety concerns. Viva said you were the best troll to talk to, outside maybe Branch, about what sort of measures could be kept in place to make sure everyone stays happy and healthy."

Clay perked up as Trollex spoke, not having expected the king to ask such an insightful question, especially not to him. Perhaps his first impression of the king had been all wrong. "Well, there are a lot of different things we'd have to keep in mind for such an undertaking…"

Trollex, it turned out, was an incredibly insightful king. Throughout the entire meeting he lobbed questions to several of the kingdom rulers, and directed most, if not all, concerns in regards to safety to Clay. All in all, he felt pretty good when the meeting came to a close, as they had several rough documents drafted up for new inter-kingdom laws.

So, it threw Clay off a little when Trollex floated past him, wide grin on his face and headphones over his ears, flipping a glowstick between his fingers, like he hadn't just been discussing transgenre rights barely five minutes prior. He froze when the kings eyes landed on him, his shoulders unconsciously hiking up to his ears as he was approached.

"Hey, hey! Clay, my man," Trollex crowed, only lowering his volume once he pulled his headphones away from his ears, "Nice work today, yo. Usually Branch is the only one who can figure out all that nuance-y regulatory stuff."

"Yeah, well. Boring legal stuff is my jam," he said with a little laugh while throwing up a peace sign and sticking his tongue out without even realizing what he was doing. He quickly straightened up, a flush forming on his cheeks as a grin slowly spread across Trollex's face.

"Yeah, bro! Nice," Trollex laughed, reaching over to shake Clay's shoulder gently in a friendly gesture, "Live your best life, yo. Speaking of, you should come on by Techno Reef sometime soon! We've got some bangin' raves comin' up. Would love to see how you unwind."

"Haha, yeah," Clay forced a smile onto his face, giving the king a little nod.

"Sweet! I'll send word to Pop Village with dates for the next big one! It's gonna be LIT," Trollex called out, earning whoops from some of the trolls milling near the meeting hall. He laughed as he put his headphones back on, tossing Clay a glow stick as he began to bob his head in time with his music, shooting him finger guns before floating away.

Clay didn't even register when Viva appeared next to him. "Ooooh, does Mr.Clay have a date?"

"Cupcakes!" Clay dropped the glowstick in favor of slapping a hand to his chest, "Viva! Ugh…we seriously need to get you a bell, girl."

Viva simply cackled at him, poking him in the side until he couldn't hold back his laughter and swatted her away. "Well?" she prompted as she took a step back to let Clay catch his breath.

Clay sighed and bent to pick up the fallen glowstick, shrugging a bit. "Pretty sure it was a general party invitation, Viv. Not a date request."

"Well, you gotta start somewhere," Viva chirped, wrapping both of her arms around one of Clays. "What do you think about him, anyway? He totally seems right up your alley."

"What?! How?" Clay asked with a laugh, arching an eyebrow at Viva curiously.

"Oh, well, you know," Viva hummed, resting her head on Clay's shoulder, "He's a party guy, sure, but you saw him in the meeting. He seems like he really takes his responsibilities seriously. I figured you'd admire him for that."

Clay gingerly twirled the glowstick between his fingers. "Yeah. I guess that's true…"

"Hey! The party has arrived!"

Clay couldn't help but cringe at Trollex's shout, offering an awkward wave as the king swam over to greet the small group of pop trolls that had travelled down to Techno Reef. Clay had been the one to officially receive the invitation, surprisingly, but it had said that anyone from Pop village was welcome, so he'd asked Poppy to spread word that any troll who wanted to could go. In the end, Clay, Viva, Poppy, Branch, and a smattering of villagers had all decided to go.

"Welcome to Techno Reef! We've got glow sticks for days, and the party's always poppin'," Trollex called with a laugh, tossing a handful of glowsticks out, which gently floated down into the waiting pop trolls hands. "If ya'll would follow Leguna, she'll show you to the accommodations we've prepared for your stay."

A purple techno troll swam forward and gestured for everyone to follow her, which Clay was about to do when he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He paused and turned in surprise to find Trollex with a large grin on his face.

"I'm really glad you accepted my invitation," the king hummed, releasing Clay's arm and floating backwards slightly.

"Uh," Clay said smartly, glancing around quickly to find Viva shooting his a thumbs up while giggling with her sister, "Thanks, man. Me too. I'm real curious about your culture and it's really cool to finally get to see some of the other kingdoms."

Trollex chuckled, nodding a little as he pulled a glow bracelet off from around his own wrist, swimming forward to secure it around Clay's. "Well, if you've got any questions, you know who to come find," he said with a little wink. Clay was endlessly glad for the darkness of the water around them as his cheeks flushed, just before Trollex swam away.

"I think he likes you."

"VIVA! A BELL! Damn."

Raves were, apparently, not Clay's cup of tea. Perhaps when he was younger, before, well, everything, he would've loved a good rave. But older, serious boy Clay was not having the best of times. Branch wasn't, either, but Poppy had dragged him and Viva off almost the moment they had reached the large area that the party was taking place in (He had a feeling the sisters were conspiring against him, somehow). Which left Clay, alone, at the edge of the dance floor, awkwardly watching and wishing he could covers his ears from the loud bass. Unfortunately, the helmets the visiting pop trolls had to wear in order to even be down in the reef impeded his ability to do so.

He was debating on heading back to the rooms the techno trolls had prepared for them, when Trollex appeared out of the crowd, swimming over once he spotted Clay.

"Heyyy, Live Wire!" Trollex shouted over the music with a grin, "There you are!"

"Live Wire?" Clay echoed, arching an eyebrow at Trollex, who grinned wider, his cheeks glowing slightly.

"Yeah, man! Your rave name! Everyone's gotta have a rave name, and you've got the best hair. So, Live Wire," the king explained, swimming forward to tap at the side of Clay's helmet, where his hair was bunched up against the glass.

"I assume you're making fun of me, 'cause my hair stands up like I got electrocuted?" Clay snarked, folding his arms over his chest, not looking the least amount amused.

"What? No? Why would I make fun of you?" Trollex tilted his head like a confused cuddle pup. This gave Clay pause, dropping his arms to his sides.

"I, uhm…I guess I don't know," Clay admitted, shrugging a little. He chewed on his lip a little as Trollex gave him a contemplative look.

"Let's get out of here," the king said, just loud enough for Clay to hear, before he reached out and grabbed both of Clay's hands. With a smile he began to swim backwards, pulling Clay up along through the water after him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Clay yelped, kicking his feet to try and keep himself from dropping back down through the water and onto the dancefloor. This pulled a delighted laugh from Trollex, who shook his head.

"Just relax. I've got you," Trollex hummed, sliding his hands down Clay's arms until he had a hold on the green trolls elbows, while shifting his position so he was half swimming beneath Clay. "You'll be okay, Live Wire. I won't let you sink."

Trollex let Clay's feet hit solid ground again once they'd reached what Clay could only describe as a palace; a huge building near the center of the reef, standing prominently above all the other structures of the town, with twisting spires and glowing accents that lit up the surrounding area.

"Wow," Clay murmured, admiring the architecture, while also noting that they were far enough away from the rave that he could speak at a normal volume.

"Yeah. It's pretty lucky Barb only targeted the DJ booth when she attacked. I'm not sure how well we could've reconstructed this," Trollex said, floating next to Clay with an easy smile.

"Wait…she attacked you? Like, actually?" Clay turned his head sharply towards Trollex with a frown. He'd heard plenty about Barb's world tour, but the finer details hadn't really been openly shared. He supposed it would make sense that Barb would have to attack trolls to gain what she wanted, but knowing it was enough that the techno trolls had to reconstruct buildings was a lot. Barb had been at their meeting, and no one had treated her like she'd terrorized them.

"Yeah. But it's all good. Things worked out," Trollex said with a little shrug.

"But, what if they hadn't? You would've lost all this," Clay declared, gesturing widely at te palace and surrounding buildings.

"True. But we didn't," Trollex swam in front of Clay, taking his hands in his own with a light laugh, "You can't dwell on the 'maybes' in life, bro. You just gotta focus on the here, and now, and what you can do in the moment." Clay felt his anger dissipate at Trollex's words, though he still frowned.

"'Maybes' are what keep people safe," Clay insisted, unconsciously squeezing Trollex's hands.

"Future 'maybes', totally. But past 'maybes' can't be changed. You gotta go with the flow, bro," Trollex chuckled, tugging Clay forward a bit, "But enough of that. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Clay sighed heavily and followed after Trollex, taking note of the fact that the king had only let go of one of his hands.

"This is all really impressive," Clay praised with an easy smile while pulling his helmet off. The last stop on the tour of the palace was a series of rooms dedicated to visiting dignitaries from other kingdoms. Much like the rooms arranged for the visiting pop trolls, these rooms had been made air tight and drained of water to allow for other genres to visit without the need for helmets.

"Thanks, man," Trollex said, taking the helmet from the green troll to set aside on a table. "We've only had a few trolls come to visit so far, so it's nice to know our efforts aren't in vain."

"I thought the whole world tour thing was a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah, it was," Trollex shrugged, floating over to a couch and patting the spot net to him in invitation to Clay, "But, we're a bit harder to get to, being underwater, an' all. Plus, as much as I'd love to extend more open invitations to other kingdoms, we haven't finished hammering out all the necessary laws to make sure everyone stays safe."

"Man," Clay said with a little laugh, flopping himself onto the seat next to the king, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just…so easily flip between being dead serious and being a party guy? How do you make sure people still take you seriously?"

Trollex watched Clay for a moment, before letting out a little breath and curling his fins beneath himself. "You're talking about the whole 'fun boy' thing, aren't you?"

Clay startled, leaning away from Trollex with wide eyes. "How'd you know about that?"

"Queen Poppy gave us a bunch of pop records when the kingdoms first started talking to each other again. There was a BroZone record in there. Which, by the way, makes for some killer mixes and spinbacks! But, uh…yeah. Not hard to put two and two together when Branch was talking about his brothers, meeting before last. Poppy also might have mentioned that I shouldn't call you 'fun' before we met," Trollex said with a light laugh.

Clay groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Is that what this is, then?" he asked, slightly muffled, "Some sort of weird intervention to show me that I can be fun and serious, not just one or the other?"

"What? No. Man, you sure do jump to a lot of conclusions," Trollex chuckled, gently taking Clay's hands away from his face. "You just genuinely seemed like a cool troll. Is it so hard to believe I might wanna get to know you better, without any ulterior motives?"

"Yes."

That startled a burst of laughter out of Trollex, making the techno king reel back and wave his hands through the air. "Oh! Oh, man. Clay," he snorted, wiping at his eyes, "Bro. Trust me, it shouldn't be hard to believe. You really made an impression on the council with your ideas at the last meeting, and Viva told me about everything you did at the golf course. You're a really impressive troll, Live Wire."

"Oh. Well…thanks," Clay chuckled awkwardly, his cheeks flushing.

"It helps that you're real cute, too," Trollex added cheekily, shooting Clay a grin.

"I-What?!" It was Clay's turn to reel back, his back hitting the arm rest of the couch as his cheeks practically caught fire.

Trollex simply laughed, leaning his arm on the back of the couch so he was a bit more in Clay's space. "Okay, so maybe I had one ulterior motive," the king admitted, "I thought, maybe, you and Viva were a thing, but I overheard her teasing you about me."

"You had headphones on!" Clay squawked, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah. I didn't have any music playing. Sometimes it's nice to be left alone because people think you can't hear them. Plus, I get to hear things that people might not want me to know," the king confessed with a little shrug. "But, y'know, if I'm reading you all wrong, just tell me to back off. I won't take offense."

"I…okay?"

"That was definitely a question, and not enthusiastic consent," Trollex chuckled, reaching out to gently take one of Clay's hands in his own. "You gotta say the magic word."

"Please?"

Trollex snorted. "I was looking for 'yes', or something to that effect, but I suppose that works, too." With that he leaned forward and cupped Clay's jaw in his hand, his smile turning soft. "You just do what you gotta do if this doesn't feel right, okay?"

Clay gave a little nod and let his eyes slip shut as Trollex pressed their lips together. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed. Was it all the way back when he'd been in BroZone? Probably. He'd always been too busy at the golf course to ever entertain the idea of getting involved with anyone. And, as much as he and Viva were teased for being in each others back pockets all the time, there really wasn't anything more than close sibling feelings between the two of them. So, as the kiss broke and Trollex shifted back, he had no real idea if it felt right or not. He did, at least, know it didn't feel wrong. He opened his eyes to find Trollex watching him intently, a nervous little smile on his face.

"Well?"

"Repeat experiments must be run in order to ensure the results are valid and consistent," Clay muttered, pulling his hand free of Trollex's in order to take the kings face in both hands and draw him in again. He smiled into the kiss at Trollex's surprised little grunt, pleased as he felt the techno king all but melt into him.

When they pulled apart the second time, Clay took note of the dumbstruck expression on Trollex's face, feeling a little curl of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach for putting the look on the kings face.

"One more? To, uh, make sure the results are consistent?" Trollex asked, his cheeks glowing a faint pink as he leaned in again.

"Just to make sure," Clay easily agreed, tugging Trollex closer so the techno king was half in his lap as their lips met again.

Clay smirked as he fixed his hair and adjusted his romper as he glanced back at Trollex, who looked like a ragdoll on the couch, one arm over his face and one fin flopped onto the floor.

"Live Wire is a perfect nickname for you," Trollex sighed, sitting up as Clay picked up his helmet. Slowly he rose from his seat and floated over to the green troll, resting a hand on the top of the helmet. "I hope…I really hope this wasn't a one time thing?"

Clay blinked, a bit taken aback by the question. "It isn't?"

"I mean," Trollex floated backwards, twisting his fingers together in front of himself nervously, "If you wanted it to be, that…that's cool. I just…I know we don't know each other super well yet or anything, but I really like you, Clay. And I'd really like to get to know you better. I know you've got all your responsibility with the pop trolls and Viva and stuff, but…I'd like to see you again. I'd like to see you more."

"Oh," Clay breathed, oddly somewhat startled that anyone would want to see him again, let along a King. "You mean that?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"Okay. Okay! Yeah," Clay nodded, shifting the helmet in his hands to rest on his hip so he could reach out and take Trollex's hand. "Next time, you come to ours. You can stay with me."

Trollex's face lit up in a giddy grin, his cheeks flushing bright pink at Clay's words. "Already looking forward to it."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls clay #trolls trollex #claylex #trolls world tour #trolls band together #things that i wrote #prompt fill #trolls fanfic

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emilieautumnarchives · 30 days

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Emilie Autumn for Bubblegum Sl-t Zine

Original Link (Archive Post from Author) Last access 3/31/24 Originally Posted: Summer 2010

...I interviewed Emilie Autumn a few times in the mid-00s, although only once for Bubblegum Sl💛t. I think the photo of Emilie and me (seen on the left of the first slide) was taken after an interview for Alternative Magazine. Every time I saw Emilie, her gigs grew a bit grander and more bonkers. Consider that her entry point to the era’s music scene was a violin-and-vocal concept album - which concerned Shakespeare and mental ill health, and arrived accompanied by a semi-autobiographical novel, fusing psych ward memoirs with a Victorian fantasy world – and you get some sense of just how bonkers things got. By the time this was printed in 2010, her shows were bringing cabaret vibes and musical theatre production values to rock venues. Accompanied by the ‘Bloody Crumpets’ (a troupe of burlesque belles posing as asylum inmates), and an elaborate array of handcrafted props and costumes, she was greeted at every show by hordes of adoring ‘plague rats’ in bloomers and stripey stockings. Something I always found both inspiring and a little intimidating was just how hands-on Emilie was with every aspect of her ambitious shows. Right down to handmaking merch, she oversaw every last damn detail of her immersive fantasy world, putting in frighteningly long hours to make it happen. This was a big a theme of this very wordy interview.

Interview and scans below the cut.

Transcription note: this interview is long and EA's comments are interspersed throughout, so I've put her words in bold.

Wayward Woman

Released from her old record contract, our favourite asylum inmate Emilie Autumn has lately let her creativity run. And run. And run.

18 hour day corporate workaholics would be put to shame by the drive that Emilie Autumn exhibits in her many artistic endeavors. With each successive, increasingly grand tour I've witnessed (for which Emilie handles the design and production of lavish stage sets and costumes, the creation handmade merch and the choreography of dance routines and comedy set-pieces with her sidekicks 'The Bloody Crumpets', not to mention violin, harpsichord and vocal duties) I've felt, with crowing certainty, that superhuman powers are the only explanation for her quite extraordinary ability to maintain both the quality and vast quantity of her output. Speaking to the insomniac artist herself shortly after her Spring 2010 tour of Europe and Australia however, I've forced to entertain the more improbable, and frankly frightening notion, that her stamina is actually that of a mere mortal, as she recounts woefully how a throat infection forced her to cancel two shows on this most recent outing. The singer can't claim she wasn't warned; management -- characterized in popular music mythology as the business bods cracking the whip on the backs of their poor, cash-cow artist -- apparently made efforts to talk her out of undertaking such a lengthy tour before she had embarked up it, but inevitably such a suggestion was never given any serious consideration by a women who describes the experience of taking a few days off as "torturous".

"I wasn't allowed to speak," she elaborated on the horrors of her enforced spell of rest and relaxation. "I wasn't even allowed to whisper, so I had to write things down to communicate. As somebody who talks a lot--as you can tell--it was definitely torturous!"

Yes, I can definitely tell you that, amongst a great deal of many other talents, Emilie Autumn can really talk. Figuring out that much in the four previous interview I've got to admit that, while the kind of intense and frank debate and confessions she offers in volumes are a refreshing pleasure over any media-trained soundbite, I approach this latest encounter with as much dread as anticipation; dread that is for the figure that will appear on my phone bill when the receiver eventually goes down and Emilie and Chicago. And on this occasion there's more to talk about than ever before.

See, even within the biography of an artist who is prolific by nature the past few months can be considered a fully of activity. The tour aside, there's been the double dis re-release of Emilie's breath-through album 'Opheliac', while the publication of her long-awaited book 'The Asylum of Wayward Victorian Girls' requires epic discourse by itself. So more -- much more -- of the book later. Firstly, Emilie explains, the starting point for seeing this succession of projects come to fruition was opting to break away from former German-based label Trisol.

"Once all the house clearing went down I found, to my surprise, when the door opened I had a good amount of options," she recalls, swiftly skipping to the part where, having weight these up, she found and offer from New York's The End records the most attractive.

By signing on the dotted line she joined an oddball, distinctly arty roster, which also includes Mindless Self Indulgence, Dir En Gray and Dirty Little Rabbits, and celebrated seeing her music gain a release in her native Unite States at long last. Although "frustrated" by the prior limbo period, when her work languished on record stores' prices import shelves, she has to conceded that there's little evidence to suggest hefty taxes impeded the spread of the 'plague' (as she is wont to refer to the rise of her so-described 'violindustrial', with fans readily wearing the label 'plague rats').

"I was amazed to see the fanbase I have [here] when I first toured the US," she says. "The Plague rats are here, they're everywhere, and it's insane that this thing has spread almost without radio, without videos and without a label until now."

The fresh pressing of 'Opheliac' has also been granted a second release in Europe, where by contrast Emilie has enjoyed strong support from the alternative music media ever since the album was initially issued in 2006. Critics might assume a second coming so soon a little premature but, even without the addition of a wealth of bonus material, a record that can honestly by called a 'grower' -- rewarding revisits by revealing new depths to it's complex sonics and storyline -- makes a good case for being deserving of a second look. For Emilie herself "the 'Opheliac' record is still the most important thing" - the silver lining to the breakdown which followed her separation from musical collaborator turned lover Billy Corgan, traced to the eureka moment at which she began charting comparisons between her own increasingly troubled life and the misadventures of Shakespeare's archetypal 'difficult woman.'

"I think a couple times in your life, if you're lucky, you just get it right," Emilie reflects of the work now. "It's like creating the perfect quote that people will say 500 years later, because it still rings true. When I sing those songs onstage, or listen to that record it still strikes me that there's not a single thing I would change."

Such a definitive statement from the artist herself does rather invite the suggestion that the bonus disc can do little to enhance the piece; only encourage plague rats to pick up the second copy.

"The first disc is completely a concept album, where every sound is a puzzle piece within a big plan and everything relies on everything else around it," Emilie affirms. "So that second disc is like 'here's the mixbox' -- it's a complete jumble of things, like the inside of my head. But it is all very relevant to the suicidal theme of the album."

Specifically, she cites her unlikely rendition of an age-old song Billie Holiday mad her own, declaring "'Gloomy Sunday', - that's like the original suicide song, it couldn't be more relevant." With her version sitting alongside a cover of The Smiths' 'Asleep,' a solo violin rendering of Bach, several original acoustic recordings and samples of the spoken word, performances Emilie has lately been giving in support of her book release, she's not wrong in her assertion that the second disc is a 'mixbox' either. Set in contrast to the main album's heavy, literary study of her own human condition this new component is also reflective of the trademark scatter-brained and impatient intellect she overwhelms with when she chatters mile a minute.

By far the greatest justification for revisiting 'Opheliac' now Emilie excitably gabs is the long-awaited arrival of its companion and sequel, the Asylum book, viewed by it's author as a sort of key to decoding the shorthand hints embedded in the other releases in her catalogue.

A back-burner project in the Trisol offices for more than 2 years, the book looked so sure to be lost to the world for a time that Emilie's reaction when it eventually when into production under guidance of The End was to "go into shock - I've almost been in denial that i was ever actually happening.," she gasps. "I'd got so into saying 'wait for it, it's going to be great!' and not having it materialize that it was a shock when the new printing company put it together. It was torture to keep touring a keep releasing knowing that, even if I have a great fanbase who like what I'm doing, they really had no idea of what they liked was about at the time, They didn't know the full extent of how serious it actually was, how much i actually means and real it is."

Referring to the titular 'Asylum' -- most basically defined as a location in [Emilie's] imagination and art, but nonetheless deeply rooted in historical documentation of the treatment of Victorian madwomen, and the harsh realities of Emilie's own experience of the modern mental health care system -- she tells "there's this thing of assuming it's a fantasy world when, actually, it's for real. That was very difficult," she sighs, "to go on touring, knowing that there were so many things I couldn't do onstage that I actually might have wanted to, but because they were references to things in the book they would never make sense without it."

As much a novel, information manual for those wanting to pick up tips on surviving a mental health ward or swarm of leeches and detailed history lesson as it is an autobiography, the book was a massive undertaking --particularly for an author possessed of the perfectionist tendencies Emilie is. To put in perspective the length of the sentence 'The Asylum..." served in post-production hell, journalists received sample pages from Trisol's PR department, in preparation for an apparently imminent publication, way back in 2008. In the months it took for a released date to pass many other active and breathing public figures saw fit to issue second volumes to their autobiographies. Hence it figures that the finished Asylum on bookstore shelves now is a substantial development of those early previews.

"The story was there but with every day there was another delay and so more painting and ore words would go in just so that the time wasn't completely wasted," confirms Emilie. "If I had to wait I had to make the most of that time and now you have something that wouldn't have been quite as awesome if it had come a day earlier. It's not like the 'Opheliac' record, where I wouldn't add a note or take a note away -- this is the story of my entire life, it goes on -- I could always add another scribble in another corner. 'Opheliac' is a time capsule and this is everything, it goes [from] the beginning to beyond the end... the ultimate ending is still just a massive cliff-hanger because we don't know how it ends!"

Candor and openness being defining traits of the Emilie I've come to know it's surprising to hear that the other "big, open question mark," the book implanted in her head was a wave of self doubt--

"Like, 'okay, you think you know how you're going to react if people read this stuff by do you really ?' And for a couple of days there was this silence, on our sounding board--you know, the internet," she translates. "Everything was really quiet for a couple of days as people were reading it and digesting it and when they came back there was a kind of collective 'holy fuck - we though we knew what was going on by now... maybe not.' There's an increased understanding of me and what I do now - the colours of everything are a bit brighter, because it means more. It's a relief," she announces. " I've said it now, everybody knows all of these things about me now, and if you still like who I am, knowing that this is the life I've lived and things I've done then you like who I really am. It's just a relief to finally tell someone who you really are... like you might have wanted to pretend to be the little queen, or tired to be the good girlfriend, and when you give that up... well, it turns out that pressure is a lot scarier than telling the truth and doing whet comes naturally."

While she's in the mood to share, Emilie reveals the next stage in her grand plan.

"I'll tell you my secret," she relents, after a moments hesitation, reasoning. "I don't know if it's a secret, it's kind of obvious really. My plan, of why the book has to get so very much out there, is because we want to make a movie."

A nanosecond is spared for dramatic effect here before her enthusiasm spurs her on to laying out the blow-by-blow proposal, as though addressing her plague rats en masse.

"Here's what I need you to do," she instructs. "I need you to go buy me these 52 hundred copies of the Asylum book, because then we in the popularity contests--and that's how we get to the top of the bestsellers list. That's very simple, right? Because then, everyone knows, every single book that reaches the top of the bestseller chart is very quickly made into a movie. So if you want to see that movie you've got to help me and purchase that book!"

Emilie is right to think her plan is becoming 'obvious' at this stage. Always theatrical, her stage shows have now grown to a scale that their props are testing the limits of her one-woman workshop, and their stunts are insurance policies of venues only every intended to play host to the humble rock band. A theatre or screen production is the clear next step and, not one to restrict the creative outlets at her disposal, Emilie has not ruled out the former option.

"When we're hitting a new venue every night we have to wonder every night if we're going to be able to do the full show," she sighs. "It's 'are they going to let us to aerials here?', 'are we going to have to leave out the fire-eating because they won't let us do fire here?' It's becoming very clear that, at this level, there are limits to what you can do and the alternative to that is getting a theatre run where you're actually in the same place for 3 months. But there's a part of me that doesn't want tot do that because, however grueling life on the road is, there's that whole thing of the show coming to the people, which I love. SO I think maybe doing both is the ideal. Something I'm quite seriously working on," she impressed, before continuing, "is the possibility of being able to tour with my own venue. Circuses do it, so why can't I? It's a bigger production, and it's expensive, but if you know what you want there's always a way, and I've figured out what we need to do, which is embrace the fact that this isn't a rock show and begin putting it into a setting which reflects that."

Which reminds me, amongst Emilie's many interests is creating music, and between talking books, movies and big tops we've so far neglected to mention an additional iron in the fire, that is 'Opheliac's musical follow-up. Suddenly engaged on another new topic Emilie tells, "I'm about halfway through writing, but nothing has been recorded. It's still being added to because that's the next thing -- making sure that this album accurately represents my life right now. It ties in to the Asylum book, and 'Opheliac', which laid out 'this is the situation you're in,' so this next record is naturally saying 'okay, now what do you do about it?' So that's where it gets a bit more violent and bloody, because now it's about fighting."

Supporting Emilie's often re-iterated line that her seemingly disparate works are, truly, inter-connected and even inter-dependant, recent live shows have started to develop the theme of fighting. Most obviously performances on the Spring tour included a segment in which Emilie and her Bloody Crumpets tool up to become the Asylum Army, marching to a gruffly barked, yet uniquely feminine, drill chant.

"Now there' about 50% guys in the audiences," she notes. "And so when we ask there 'are you ready to fight like a girl?', and every one of them is screaming 'yes'... well, that's amazing. It's about taking that phrase -- that we've heard our whole lives a s derogatory thing, 'you fight like a girl', 'you throw a ball like a girl,' we're taking that and turning it on it's ass completely to make it like the greatest thing possible, knowing that actually, if a girl really has something to defend, there will be no chivalry, no rules, and she will use every tool possible.

For Emilie, these violent developments, as explored more graphically on the next album, represent "part tow of the adventure. It's still completely relevant, it has to be," she says. "When I put [the record] out it has to mean at least as much to me as 'Opheliac' did."

Here the perfectionist standards that her vast ambition demand surface once again, and she tells "I never want to do anything that doesn't have the same impact, on me that is. I want to get it right again. I can't fail, it's just not what I do. I would rather not put anything out. But that's not going to be a problem. I'm already working on the new record and we're gonna be just fine."

#emilie autumn #interviews #zine #2010 #bubblegum slt

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republicsecurity · 4 months

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In Armor

The moment I stepped into the paramedic armor, a profound sense of transformation washed over me. The cool metal plates, each meticulously designed and engineered, embraced my body in a secure yet gentle grip. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced before – a blend of weight and lightness, of confinement and freedom.

As the technicians worked around me, adjusting the straps and securing the locks, I felt an overwhelming surge of anticipation and awe. The armor, with its intricate network of circuits and sensors, seemed to come alive against my skin. Every click and lock resonated with a promise – a promise to become something more, something greater than my former self.

The first thing I noticed was the weight – a reassuring heaviness that grounded me, reminding me of the responsibility I was about to undertake. The weight was not burdensome; instead, it felt like a mantle of purpose, a tangible reminder of the lives I was entrusted to protect.

Then came the sensation of confinement as the armor sealed around me, enclosing me in its protective shell. It was a feeling of being cocooned, shielded from the outside world yet intimately connected to it through the armor's sensory interface. My movements, once fluid and unrestricted, now carried a deliberate precision, each gesture amplified by the mechanical synergy of the suit.

Despite the initial sense of confinement, there was an unexpected freedom within the armor. The servos and joints responded seamlessly to my slightest movements, enhancing my agility and strength. I flexed my fingers, marveling at the enhanced dexterity the tactile gloves provided. It was as if the armor had become an extension of my own body, amplifying my capabilities rather than hindering them.

Through the mirrored visor, I caught glimpses of my own reflection – a paramedic cadet on the cusp of a new journey. The paramedic corps' emblem emblazoned on my chestplate seemed to pulse with vitality, as if acknowledging my acceptance into its ranks. I felt a surge of pride and determination, knowing that I was part of something much larger than myself.

In that moment, encased in the paramedic armor, I felt a profound sense of purpose settle within me. I was no longer just a cadet; I was a guardian, a beacon of hope in times of crisis. The armor, with its click, lock, and seal, represented not only my commitment but also my readiness to face the challenges ahead.

As I took my first steps, the familiar surroundings of the workshop transformed into a realm of endless possibilities. I was no longer bound by the constraints of my former self; I was now a paramedic, armed with determination and clad in unyielding armor. With every stride, I embraced the weight of my duty and the freedom it bestowed upon me, knowing that I was destined for a future where I would make a difference – one click, one lock, and one seal at a time.

As I stood there, clad only in my chastity underwear, I felt a mix of vulnerability and anticipation. The armor technicians, fellow conscripts, approached with a camaraderie that instantly put me at ease. Their red flightsuits emphasized their muscular physiques, their shaved heads a testament to our shared identity within the paramedic corps.

"First time in the armor, huh?" one of the technicians, a broad-shouldered conscript with a warm smile, said as he adjusted a control panel on the side of my helmet. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. It becomes like a second skin after a while."

"Yeah, it's a bit overwhelming at first, but trust me, it gets easier," added another technician, his tone reassuring. He reached over, making subtle adjustments to the joints of my arm plates. "Remember, the armor is designed to enhance your abilities, not restrict them. Embrace its power, and it'll serve you well."

Their words of encouragement resonated with me as I nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie among us. Despite our differences, we were all united by our dedication to the paramedic corps. The technicians worked efficiently, their hands deftly making adjustments to ensure a perfect fit. It was evident that they took pride in their work, understanding the significance of what the armor represented.

"Feeling any discomfort?" inquired another technician, his voice gentle as he checked the integrity of the chest plate. I shook my head, the armor hugging my body snugly. "No, it's... it's surprisingly comfortable," I replied, my voice tinged with awe.

"That's what we like to hear," the first technician said with a grin. "Now, let's make sure your HUD display is calibrated correctly. You'll be accessing vital information through it, so it needs to be just right."

As they fine-tuned the settings on my helmet's Heads-Up Display, I marveled at their expertise and dedication. Their presence, their assurance, and the shared experience of undergoing the conditioning process created a sense of unity among us. We were a team, bound by the armor that encased us and the responsibilities that came with it.

In that moment, standing among these skilled technicians, I felt a surge of gratitude. They were not just adjusting my armor; they were guiding me into a new chapter of my life. With their support, I knew I was not alone in this journey. Together, we would face the challenges ahead, each adjustment, each click, and each lock strengthening the bond that tied us together as guardians of the paramedic corps.

The technicians shared a knowing chuckle, their camaraderie evident as they explained the intricacies of the armor. "You see," one of them began, his tone both professional and friendly, "the armor is molded after a full-body scan to ensure a perfect fit. But as you grow, especially during your time as a conscript, your body tends to change. And from what we've seen, it usually means more muscle."

They gestured to the paramedics around us, their impressive physiques a testament to the rigorous training and physical demands of our roles. "That's why regular adjustments are necessary," another technician added, his tone lighthearted. "We wouldn't want you feeling cramped in there when you're responding to emergencies, would we?"

I nodded, appreciating their expertise and the importance of these adjustments. It made sense – as our bodies evolved, the armor needed to evolve with us. It was a constant process, ensuring that the armor remained an extension of our capabilities rather than a hindrance.

"We've got your back," the first technician said with a reassuring smile. "Anytime you feel like the armor isn't fitting right, just come down to the workshop. We'll make sure you're comfortable and ready for action."

Their words echoed in my mind as I stood there, realizing the ongoing support and care that the paramedic corps provided. It wasn't just about wearing the armor; it was about the continuous commitment to our well-being and effectiveness in the field. As I glanced at the other paramedics in the workshop, all in various stages of adjustment, I felt a sense of unity and purpose.

In this ever-changing world, the paramedic corps stood as a steadfast bastion of support, adapting not only to the challenges of the field but also to the evolving nature of those who wore the armor. It was a reassurance that, no matter how much I changed, there would always be skilled technicians ready to ensure that the armor fit perfectly, allowing me to focus on what truly mattered – saving lives and serving the community.

The technicians continued their explanation, their voices taking on a more serious tone as they delved into the technical aspects of the armor. "Beyond the comfort and fit, the armor also plays a crucial role in ensuring your safety and well-being," one of them said, his expression earnest. "It's equipped with advanced telemetry systems that constantly monitor your vital signs, environmental conditions, and overall performance."

I listened intently, realizing the depth of technology embedded within the armor. It was more than just a protective shell; it was a sophisticated system designed to enhance our capabilities and keep us connected to the paramedic corps' network.

"Additionally," another technician added, "you'll have regular appointments for maintenance and diagnostic checks. These sessions are essential to ensure that all systems are functioning optimally. We'll review the telemetry data, make necessary adjustments, and conduct thorough inspections to guarantee the armor's integrity."

The gravity of their words sank in. The armor wasn't just a piece of equipment; it was a lifeline, a tool meticulously crafted to support us in our life-saving endeavors. The regular maintenance appointments highlighted the paramedic corps' commitment to our safety, emphasizing their dedication to providing us with the best possible resources for our missions.

As I stood there, surrounded by skilled technicians and fellow paramedics, I felt a profound sense of reassurance. In this complex world of advanced technology and ever-changing challenges, the paramedic corps stood as a beacon of reliability and support. The armor was more than just metal and circuits; it was a symbol of trust and confidence, a reminder that I was part of something much larger than myself.

With a newfound understanding of the intricacies involved, I nodded in acknowledgment. The paramedic corps had equipped me not only with physical armor but also with the knowledge that I was never alone – that there were experts diligently working behind the scenes to ensure that I could face any situation, knowing that my armor was not just protecting me, but also connecting me to a network of support and expertise.

As I continued to absorb the information about the armor, another cadet approached me, their expression a mix of camaraderie and caution. "Listen," they said, their voice low, "the armor isn't just for protection and enhanced capabilities. It's also a powerful tool of control."

I looked at them, puzzled. "Control? What do you mean?"

The cadet sighed, glancing around to ensure no one was within earshot. "Think about it. The armor transmits telemetry data back to the corps, right? They know our every move, our vital signs, even our emotional states. It's not just for maintenance; it's a way for them to keep tabs on us, to ensure we're following protocols, staying in line."

A chill ran down my spine. The realization of the extent of control dawned on me. The armor, while offering protection and support, also served as a means for the paramedic corps to monitor and influence our actions. It was a double-edged sword, granting us incredible abilities while simultaneously tethering us to a system of surveillance and oversight.

"But why would they need such control?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The cadet met my gaze, their eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and defiance. "Control is power. It's about ensuring conformity, preventing dissent, and maintaining the unity of the corps. They want us to be efficient, unquestioning, and completely devoted to the mission. The armor becomes a way to enforce that, to mold us into their ideal tactical paramedics."

I nodded slowly, the weight of their words sinking in. The paramedic corps, for all its noble intentions and life-saving missions, was also a meticulously organized institution, one that valued order and discipline above all else. The armor, while a technological marvel, represented not just physical protection but also a form of psychological and behavioral conditioning.

The moment I lowered the helmet onto my shaved head, a profound sense of disorientation washed over me. The world outside ceased to exist in its familiar vibrancy. Instead, everything turned shades of grey, as if I had stepped into a monochromatic dreamscape. The colors of reality were stripped away, leaving behind a muted, desaturated version of the world I knew.

The heads-up display (HUD) flickered to life, projecting a series of data and instructions in my line of sight. Orders and task lists floated before me, each item highlighted and emphasized by the interface. The HUD had a way of focusing my attention, sharpening my senses, and guiding me with unyielding precision.

I found myself compelled to follow the directives displayed on the HUD, my movements guided by the digital cues before my eyes. It was as if the world had been reduced to a series of tasks, each one waiting to be completed.

With each task completed and each order followed, I became more accustomed to the altered reality of the HUD. The initial shock faded into a sense of acceptance, and I embraced the monochromatic world as my new normal.

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gumasantan · 1 year

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home: a three-part haikaveh fic (1/3)

about: a haikaveh modern treasure hunt AU.

word count: exactly 1.6k words (FINALLY!)

a/n: first fic that's not a oneshot. i'm being experimental in this one, and probably will be in the next parts of this fic. with that said, i'll continuously update the fic until im satisfied to move on to the next part, which will be in the process of being written soon. (SCHOOL SUX) please enjoy!

second chapter: the chamber

third chapter: the outside

“I still cannot believe that they decided that WE should tackle this together!”

An exasperated sigh escapes someone’s lips with an irritated expression on his facials, walking alongside someone else who has an opposite look: Stoic with little to no care about his companion who keeps ranting beside him.

“Don’t they realize that we are the worst set of people they could ever choose?”

The complaints echoed within the hallway surrounded by sandstone with dusts of sand littering the air. The path ahead and even the space all the way back, deeply hidden in pitch darkness. The pair can only have an idea of where they are with the ignited torch illuminating the area, promptly carried by a man with a silver hair, who is starting to get bothered with the broken radio his ears have had the luxury of listening to.

“Why didn’t you just go here alone, isn’t that what you’ve always preferred? I’m sure that you wouldn’t want someone like me disturb you on something like this!”

He hardens his grip on the torch, squeezing its handle with his palm. As they keep moving forward, he sharpens his eyes toward their surroundings, anticipating any trap set up to interrupt their walk that could even quite possibly harm them. But so far, he hasn’t noticed anything nor did it ever seem to him that they were near at triggering one.

Maybe the real trap is being with him, and that trap is about to trigger something far worse than itself.

“Bah! Why did I even agree in joining you?”

Bingo.

“You seem to have hit the mark, Kaveh.” The silver-haired man spoke, facing him annoyingly as he ceased walking.

“What? Did you really think I had a choice? If I didn’t, then the Academy would be crossed with me and I don’t particularly desire to do that.” Kaveh answered him with what should be an already obvious piece of knowledge.

“That was an oversight. You could have simply chose to reject my invitation and I would’ve not bothered one bit.” His adversary coldly retorted back.

“And so? What would you have told them then? That—that I disagree with their decisions simply because I dislike sharing my time with you? Do you know how much that stains my fragile reputation within the Academy?” Kaveh replied, emphasizing the consequences of not accepting one of their tasks because of a petty reason.

“Of course, this is not just about me, but you as well, haven’t you realized? They put so much trust in their beloved scribe to be able to finish any tasks they give you. To see you fail in following them because of personal causes would just be contrary to the principles of the greatly knowledgeable Alhaitham, won’t it?” He continued to loudly speak as he tries to hammer his point.

“That is where you are mistaken.” Alhaitham stops Kaveh in his line of thought with a serious look on his face.

Kaveh slowly closes his mouth as he seems surprised at Alhaitham’s reply.

“We’re nearing the end of this task, so I hope that you do not continue this fiasco any further before I answer you. Yes, the implications are correct, indeed there are hundreds of architects here and there that will be much more willing to undertake this along with me. Yet, even with our personal differences, I still stood by their decision. I hope you know the reason why.” Alhaitham answered, hoping to dispel some of Kaveh’s doubts in his mind.

The two continue to gaze at each other, time seemingly slowing down.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say before we continue along? Or are you going to keep bugging me all about it as we go and I leave you to your own devices here?” Alhaitham asks, knowing full well that he’ll only accept one choice only.

Kaveh closes his eyes and sighs.

“Alright, I’ll only speak if it’s related to our task. I have realized that I may have become too insufferable for you to handle. I want to—“

Midway his heartfelt sentiments, he was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps as opens his eyes to an Alhaitham that already continued his walking down the hall.

He winces to himself as he realizes that he was about to apologize to Alhaitham, to him. A thought that makes him sick to his own stomach. How much of a heavy blow to his own ego that would be and how much it would inflate Alhaitham’s.

Quite frankly, he should have known better.

“Argh! Goddamn it! WAIT!” Kaveh shouts at his junior ahead of him after he recollected himself after that thought.

…

Alhaitham continues to walk forward as he allows the torch to illuminate away the dark that has surprisingly not creeped out the man. Not even when he sees a shadow on the walls growing larger, sensing that the whining baby behind has caught up to him.

“You….why did you just leave me there like that?” Kaveh tries to make his words coherent as he struggles from catching his breath as they finally walk together again.

“I did not leave you, what do you mean?” Alhaitham replies, appearing unbothered by Kaveh’s state.

“Yes, you just did! You didn’t even let me know that I closed my eyes for that long. And to leave me in a place like this, in the dark.”

Frustration evident in Kaveh’s tone as he hints that maybe his companion doesn’t seem to care about him one bit.

“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” Alhaitham clarifies, taking it seriously and literally.

Yet, something in what he said made Kaveh soften his look. Almost like when someone presents a plushie of a smiling Aranara in front of a stressed student. That kind of tamed look.

“You could have just left me behind. Seeing how much you can’t stand me, you won’t leave me wondering one bit if you decide to do that. For all I know, you may have some other intentions.” Kaveh looked surprised as he realized the words that just rolled out from his tongue.

Alhaitham stops walking as he stares ahead, continuously and slowly switching his gaze towards the upper corners of his eyes.

Kaveh was left speechless after his own accusation. Sure, words as sharp as knives were mutually acceptable between them whenever they see or interact with each other, but they don’t point fingers, they are never as antagonistic like that.

He could only look down the ground while he dusted off the sand that collected around his shoes and pants after running. Feeling embarrassment in front of a person he should not feel because of.

It is true that he had that kind of firecracker at the back of his mind, but he never intended to say that to him. Alhaitham despises him, that was not news to him, but this he will say: The way he expresses his thoughts from their moments together that life has destined and forced them to be in, are as sophisticated as his carefully-crafted arrogant, indifferent, and sometimes lazy of a personality. He never stoops down to a low.

Knowing that his rival is scared of the dark and taking advantage of that by leaving him alone in a place like this is just unlike him, he’s not that unkind.

“I think you’re displaying your lack of understanding here. It would just be stupidly impractical of me to leave you behind as pathetically as that. I must admit, you were a great help in the first stages of our journey here, and I won’t deny the possibility of you repeating that again. Everything you’ve said is correct. But losing you then, or losing you right now.......would greatly affect my mission efficiency.”

Alhaitham admits with a small tender tone of acceptance.

Kaveh carried on as he continued to dust his shoes and pants off without noticing what Alhaitham thought of him.

But that’s from an outward appearance.

Inside, he couldn’t believe the words that he was listening to.

Did he just passively say that he needs me?

“Don’t get your knickers in the twist. We still haven’t finished here, and I’ll correctly predict like I always used to, that this will be the last time that you’ll be remotely useful in my presence.” A small amount of venom were present in those words. Alhaitham looks to his senior with a sharp gaze.

Something seemed to snap in Kaveh’s mind.

He straightened his posture back to normal as he opened his mouth, looking at Alhaitham, words ready to come out of it.

But he remembered what he said to him before.

All that he could force out was a frustrated sigh.

“Alright, enough with this bickering. I’ve heard enough from you about all of it. Let’s just continue and get this over with, yes? We’ve been through a lot this day and I’m exhausted.” Kaveh returned Alhaitham’s attitude during their entire affair, an admittance of defeat.

He was given with a nod in return.

…

They both look ahead of them, seeing the dark hallway that seemed limitless. This has been a long day after all, and it’s ought to be finished now.

“Wait, might I ask as to if we’re near?” The blonde asked.

“We would’ve been there minutes ago had you just not talked until we were there.” Of course, the usual answer.

“Oh, how I’ve longed to hear that again.” And now, the snarky answer.

“I don’t know why you’re putting the blame on me, you’re the one that keeps on blabbing.”

#genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #multiple chapters

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matmarrash · 4 months

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My 2023 in Review: Grants, Public Art, and Teaching

With 2024 right around the corner, now’s the perfect time to reflect on 2023 and share a bit more about what I’ve been up to. In terms of making pictures, 2023 is currently in my Top 3 worst years for creating photographic work. This doesn’t mean that everything else I was working on wasn’t photography related, it just wasn’t work for myself. Looking back, this year was all about strengthening my arts connections locally by sharing photography with the community. In no particular order, here’s what I’ve been up to for the past twelve months.

After-school Arts

Since the Fall Semester of 2022, my good friend Tariq Tarey and I have been working closely with a local charter school to develop an after-school photography program. For our first year, we were able to get interchangeable lens mirrorless cameras into the hands of fourteen eager 7th and 8th graders. Each week, we would take an hour to introduce the kids to a different aspect of photography. Throughout the year we managed to guide them out of Auto Mode on their cameras and start “seeing” their photos instead of simply “point and shoot”. By the end of year one students had: photographed a body of work, critiqued and edited their pictures, printed, framed, and entered their photographs into a local art show.

It’s been a long time since I’d worked with middle school aged kids, and to say I was nervous about working with younger students is an understatement. From years of teaching privately via Midwest Photo and One-on-One workshops, teenagers haven’t been my typical clientele. Many of them had no experience with a camera outside of a smartphone, and the idea of a dedicated device for picture taking was completely foreign. To the surprise of Tariq and myself, they picked up the basics at lightning pace. The mechanics took a bit more practice than anticipated, but their grasp of the language of photography was impressive and helped guide their vision. Overall I’m incredibly proud of what our students were able to accomplish in our short time together, and I’m looking forward to 2024 where we’ll be back for a new class of creatives!

Hilltop Cyanotype Day

Each year, the Greater Columbus Arts Council (GCAC) offers financial support to individual artists and arts organizations in the Columbus, OH area in the form of grants. These can range from one-time stipends for artist’s supplies to sustaining grants for arts nonprofits in the area. I’ve been participating in GCAC Individual Artist grants since 2015 and looking through the 2023 opportunities list, there was a new program that piqued my interest. The Neighborhood Arts Connection (NAC) grants are a way for artists residing in a particular Columbus neighborhood to receive funding to elevate and engage the community. And one of the two neighborhoods on the list for early 2023 was the Hilltop, where I’ve been for the last four years. There were two levels of the NAC grant available, $5k and $10k for a neighborhood based art program, so I decided to swing for the fences. I pitched a one-day public workshop where ANYONE would be able to attend free of charge to make a cyanotype print. To my complete surprise, the grant was approved; this was going to be my biggest undertaking of the year by far!

Even as I talk about it in past tense, $10k is a lot of money to spend on any one thing. I’m incredibly grateful that Columbus has an arts organization that’s able to support artists and their communities with grants like this. All of that being said, $10k for a public art event can be tough when accounting for everything that goes into the day. Breaking it down into three core categories, here’s what the budget looked like on my grant application versus what it actually came out to:

Material Resources - $4360 planned, $3878.81 actual

Includes art supplies, consumable goods, first aid supplies, and miscellaneous goods purchased for the event.

Human Resources - $4400 planned, $4682.50 actual

Includes pay for event host (me), eight assistants, and security all at a fair wage.

Event Planning - $1240 planned, $1693.11 actual

Includes space rental, permits, insurance, and event marketing.

So how far did that $10k go? I’m a little biased here, but I think it was enough to make an impact on my neighborhood. On Sunday October 1st, 2023 at Westgate Park, I along with eight other local artists hosted a hands-on workshop where all attendees were able to make their own cyanotype prints, free of charge. No photography experience? No problem! There were 200+ pieces of pre-coated light sensitive materials on-site, with dozens of different stencils and objects to make a unique photogram.

Throughout the course of the day, we had over 130 members of the public join us in making nearly 200 cyanotype prints on: watercolor paper, t-shirts, tote bags, napkins, and a few giant cotton murals! We had folks of all ages in attendance from age 4 - 72, many of which stayed to make extra prints. There were a few photographers that showed up, but a vast majority were Hilltop and Westgate locals that were interested in making something by hand. Any leftover arts and craft supplies that were used from the day made it into the hands of Hilltop art teachers, and two of the giant “snow angel” murals were donated to Hilltop local establishments. Most importantly, no attendees left the event empty handed, and everyone remained safe while having fun experiencing the joy of photography!

There were plenty of hurdles and a lot of lessons learned during the planning and execution of this event. Once I have that all of my thoughts and feelings compiled into an explainer video, I’ll be sure to append this blog post accordingly. For now, here are a couple of galleries of photographs taken on Cyanotype Day by photographers Shiann Banks (below) and Gracie Becker (above), thank you both SO MUCH for your help!

Research & Residency

Working as a freelance photographer is still not something I’m 100% used to yet, but in this second year of not having a 9-to-5 job I’ve started to look at opportunities that were previously out of reach. In previous years I’d see a handful of amazing location workshops and artist in residence (AiR) programs that I couldn’t participate in due to lack of paid time off days. One of my big goals for 2023 was to change this by applying to upcoming AiR programs and explore new grants. The Hilltop Cyanotype Day was one such opportunity afforded by a generous GCAC grant, but I’m happy to report there are a couple more.

Starting in January in 2024, I’ll be taking part in the Winter Residency program at the Penland School of Craft. Penland is an amazing craft school nestled into the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina. Each year they host over a thousand students in residencies and workshops of various lengths and disciplines. During those few Winter weeks I’ll be in charge of the photo studio and darkroom spaces at Penland in exchange for some much needed time and access to work on my alternative process photography.

Alongside the Winter Residency at Penland, I’m equally excited to announce that I’ve received a generous grant award from the Ohio Arts Council (OAC) to help fund additional materials and research related to alternative process photography. Combined with my upcoming time at Penland, my aim to is come back to Columbus and spend more time making fine prints throughout 2024. With any luck I’ll be attempting several new-to-me alt processes and be reporting back to you all here on the blog and the YouTube channel.

In retrospect, 2023 was another year defined by photography, just not my own. I wasn’t out making pictures with big sheets of film through an “old timey” as much as usual, but I still had a blast. Thanks to everyone that helped make this past year a meaningful one, and an especially big thanks to the Greater Columbus Arts Council and Ohio Arts Council for helping support my continued photographic projects. Have a safe and Happy New Year, and I hope to share more photography with you all very soon!

#mat marrash #non-profit #gcac #oac #ohio arts council #greater columbus arts council #cyanotype #alt process #alternative process #film photography #fine art #darkroom #artsohio #penland #penland school of craft

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witchcraftingboop · 1 year

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Currently (finally) reading Holy Heretics, and this quote in particular, as well as quite a few statements before this point, have really highlighted for me the pursuit of Chumbley & Co. and led me towards finally organizing my thoughts on certain aspects of their final products that I've mostly kept to myself hitherto.

I've read quite a few books by the Cultus Sabbati group now, as well as plenty of others such as Paracelsus and Alm, and while I'm reading Acher's work, I find myself reflecting, even without intentionally doing so, on the chthonic Greek initiation rites I had put together. Perhaps due to the non-dualistic perspective on cosmology I have, after their first draft, I started unraveling those rites and leaving almost "placeholder slots" in them where I had previously affixed Greek-specific rivers, deities, and mythological references. Now, when I'm reading this book in particular, it becomes even more obvious 1) why I was so intent on unraveling my own views on those rites and my cosmology in general (and in turn, how useful that ended up being), and 2) how Chumbley's works, and a few of his peers, appeared to crumble in their pursuit of a homogenous, one-size-fits-all-or-does-it concept.

"But now, to the best of our ability, we use symbols appropriate to the things Divine, and from these again we elevate ourselves." This sentence in particular feels like a perfect summary of where/why the Cultus' books fell short for so many I've seen attempt "decoding" them.

In the pursuit of transcending and "encoding" their work, a lot of the symbols, names, and concepts they latched onto and blended lost their ability to be used effectively in their presented form. Often, my peers would relate back to me that DBoE rites, if worked through to the letter, took many more hours than anticipated and that time seemed to just fall away and be absorbed into the working, and then when they inevitably restructured and reworded them to their needs/desires, they had an increased impact, reliable results, and took a significantly less amount of time. Truthfully, Chumbley & Co.'s works are the outer emanations of an inner, closed group, so it can, and really imo should, be argued that those extra bits and bobs and the declared so-called "ciphered" way of writing is done intentionally and that these results may in fact be what they'd intended all along. There can be a multitude of reasonings attached, but my ending note is the same:

The symbols used, in any system, must be adequate to the practitioner's understanding and relation to the divine in order to be usable in the pursuit of transcendence and unity with that which is beyond.

Cultus works just so happen to be the first that come to mind for me, especially given how quickly I have seen folks discard them entirely. A mish-mosh, rushed undertaking of DBoE will likely leave you in a room surrounded by just thoughtforms and archetypes rather than with a powerful eminence of divinity. And while this was more than likely the intended affect, it is still worth reflecting on for those like me who seek out experience with multiple different paths and systems.

It is something I have seldom verbalized, but that I carry with me when developing or seeking the understanding and knowledge necessary to undertake new ways of thinking and organizing the world around me. And, quite honestly, I think it is better put in this way than in the multitude of articles and entries I have seen that cryptically and obliquely describe Chumbley's works as "ineffectual" or "overhyped."

It is a matter of perspective, at the end of the day. Perspective and perhaps willingness to embrace the essence, rather than the presented, Crooked Path around you.

#magic theory #cultus sabbati #frater acher #holy heretics #witchblr #witch community #occultblr #deity work #spirit work #occult books #occult studies #occult study

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ramblersaccount · 7 months

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In 2020, like much of the world, I experienced a lot of change. However, it felt somewhat less disruptive for me personally than for many others. Yes, the global pandemic turned our world upside down in a matter of days, but it was also the year I turned 18 and was supposed to transition into a young adult – Aaliah, version 2.0, with newfound independence and cooler vibes. I had anticipated a grand transformation in the way people perceived and treated me. I imagined myself becoming more sociable, attending parties, and embracing a more carefree lifestyle, no longer reliant on my parents for permission. Well, as it turned out, that's not quite how things played out. *Cue the sad trombone*

But that's perfectly okay; I could undertake the "Aaliah transformation" right from the comfort of my own home. TikTok had already gained considerable popularity as a social media platform before the pandemic, and I had recently created an account. The platform was rampant with self-proclaimed "self-care" gurus offering advice on how to take care of yourself during lockdown. They covered everything from skincare routines and dietary tips to picking up new hobbies. These content creators were there to both entertain and educate the masses. I found myself saving videos on the best recipes for weight loss, effective at-home skincare remedies, and guides on discovering my personal "aesthetic." Before I knew it, I was comparing myself to the people I saw on the app, wondering why I couldn't look more like them. Unfortunately, this remains a habit I struggle with to this day.

At that time, I weighed 115 pounds and really only had one proper meal a day. Even before the pandemic, I rarely had breakfast or dinner but would grab a sandwich or a snack after school and before my sports practices. Now that I was spending my entire day at home, my eating habits started to change, and I developed a fear of becoming "too big." I was a self-conscious teenager, plagued by worries about whether I was good enough.

My school was relatively small and predominantly Hispanic. In my grade, I could only recall about seven Black students, with me and one of the boys having the darkest skin tones. I also had a bit of a tomboyish style. This combination of factors made me feel somewhat less attractive than my peers. Additionally, I sometimes felt as though I was pigeonholed into the category of the "angry dark-skinned social justice warrior."

I had never been in a relationship, and it seemed like no one had ever shown genuine interest in me, so I felt the need to reinvent myself. Despite my best efforts, I began gaining weight, and to my surprise, I actually liked it. I had always had curves, but now they were more pronounced, making me appear older and healthier, and I thought it suited me. I started experimenting with makeup and trying out new hairstyles and clothing, and I had mixed feelings about the whole process. Each new style I tried seemed to meet with resistance from my parents, making me feel like nothing ever looked quite right on me.

My excitement soared when I received acceptance to Lincoln University. Located in Pennsylvania, it meant I would be on my own, and being an HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) meant I'd finally get to experience being around more Black people than I ever had in my previous schools, truly immersing myself in American Black culture. I knew I'd never fully grasp it, coming from a West Indian household, but I was thrilled to be around people who looked like me.

When I moved into my dorm, the pandemic was still ongoing, so we had to quarantine for about a week. But after that initial period, college life began to unfold just as I had envisioned, at least for the first week. I hung out with a random group of people initially, only to never talk to them again, as it turned out. However, I embraced the clothing I wanted to wear and felt confident, albeit with a sense of artificial confidence. Strangely, every time I stepped out of my room, I felt a subtle tightness in my chest. Were my hand movements awkward? Why did I make eye contact with that person? They probably think I look out of place. These thoughts weighed on me with every step I took.

In time, I found myself leaving my room only to eat and occasionally get some fresh air. Surprisingly my anxiety about people had nothing to do with COVID and everything to do with my self-esteem. Luckily my room never felt like a prison; it was simply my sanctuary. I oddly never felt lonely, even though I spent most of my time by myself. I would read, watch TikToks, practice my dancing, paint, and do anything I wanted. I even tried out new recipes using a little toaster I definitely wasn't supposed to have. I felt free and content in my self-imposed solitude.

The only thing missing was my family, the food I loved, and the familiarity of my city. Lincoln was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farms. There were only fake Italian restaurants and Domino's for dining options. The cafeteria's ethnic food could only hold me over for so long. I missed my mom's pelau and the ability to buy doubles. I longed for visits to the deli and taking the train. Living by myself made me happy, but I wished I could do it back home.

Reflecting on it now, I regret missing out on the opportunity to socialize, but I am grateful for the time I had to be with myself. In hindsight, I see that it was essential for my personal growth. During that time alone, I discovered a deeper understanding of myself and learned to appreciate the journey of self-discovery. In moments of self-reflection and solitude, we often uncover our true selves, which can grow and flourish as we become more self-aware. Life's paradox is that while we seek connections with others, we must also connect with our inner selves. This inner journey helps us become more complete and better at forming meaningful connections with the world.

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ninja-muse · 2 years

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July was a month of quality, not quantity, reading-wise. I read some truly excellent books, they just largely happened to be thick and take a fair bit of brain power. And one of these months I’ll manage to get to more than a single book off my physical TBR, I swear. Oh well. At least I only bought one book again? (In my defense, it was only $4.) Oh, and my Sherlock Holmes-via-podcast read-through finally did The Sign of the Four! This feels like a milestone, somehow.

Outside of reading, this was a pretty good month! I saw friends for the first time since the fall, I went to outdoor live theatre for the first time in three years and finally got to see Something Rotten!, and I attended my first official Pride event, which went about as well as I expected it too, in that I talked to two people in three hours. I never socialize with strangers and I’ve been trying to build up my people-confidence after two years of “talking to another person could literally kill you”, so this is a big win.

I need to do better about reading Canadian for the rest of the year, though. I feel like I’ve been letting that seriously slide. And I’m very hopeful that a lot of my anticipated new releases will come in for me at the library soon!

And as always, in order of how glad I am to have read them, my July reading list:

Babel - R.F. Kuang Robin was taken from his home as a child to be trained as a translator. Now at Oxford, he’s torn: scholarship is wonderful, but it’s used for all the wrong reasons. One person surely can’t change the system…. - Chinese-British main character, Indian, Black, and East Asian secondary characters, Chinese-American author, #ownvoices - warning: deals with colonialism, racism, and classism; contains death and torture

Queer - Frank Wynne Queer writing throughout history, largely from the 19th and 20th centuries - 🏳️‍🌈 authors, authors of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 editor, #ownvoices - warning: homophobia, transphobia, AIDS crisis, dead gays

Siren Queen - Nghi Vo She’ll do anything to be an actor, including selling her soul to a studio. Films have power, after all, and a certain kind of (dark) magic. - Chinese-American main character, 🏳️‍🌈 main character, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, Vietnamese-American author, 🏳️‍🌈 author, #ownvoices

Let's Do It - Bob Stanley A history of Anglo-Western pop music, from the early 1900s to the 1970s. - warning: anti-Black racism in a historical context, including slurs

That's Not My Name! - Anoosha Syed Mirha goes to kindergarten, where everyone thinks her name is hard. - Muslim main character, Pakistani-Canadian author, 🇨🇦

Comeuppance Served Cold - Marion Deeds Dolly gets a job as a sober companion for a wealthy bride-to-be. Dolly is casing the house. A 1920s heist fantasy. - Black secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, blind secondary character - warning: classist and racist characters, violence against women

The Hallowed Hunt - Lois McMaster Bujold A prince has been killed and Ingrey must bring his killer to justice. Arguing self-defense might save her. Her accidental spirit animal might doom her. And there’s much more afoot. - warning: misogynist characters, attempted violence against women, animal death

The Undertakers - Nicole Glover Someone’s been setting fires in Black neighbourhoods and it seems to be connected to Hetty and Benjy’s only unsolved case. - Black cast, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, Black author, #ownvoices

Downton Shabby - Hopwood DePree A movie producer discovers his distant family’s English estate is crumbling and decides to do something about it.

Hawkeye: Kate Bishop - Marieke Nijkamp with Enid Balám, illustrator Kate Bishop takes a job on her way home from LA. It’s at a resort. For her sister. And there are evil clowns? - 🏳️‍🌈 author

Death by Bubble Tea - Jennifer J. Chow When her cousin comes to town, Yale finds herself drafted into co-running a stall at the LA Night Market. Then one of their customers turns up dead. - Chinese-American cast, Chinese-American author, #ownvoices

Currently reading:

Mint Chocolate Murder - Meri Allen

Riley’s hired to serve ice cream at a gallery opening at a local estate, only for the star photographer to be found dead in a dungeon. - major Black secondary character

Aces Wild - Amanda DeWitt Jack and his asexual support group decide to take down the casino owner who put Jack’s mom in jail. - 🏳️‍🌈 main character, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories - major disabled character   - warning: colonialism, xenophobia

Stats 

Monthly total: 11  Yearly total: 90 + 1  Queer books: 3  Authors of colour: 5  Books by women: 8  Canadian authors: 1  Off the TBR shelves: 1  DNFs: 0

January February March April May June

#books #booklr #bookblr #adult booklr #book covers #book photography #reading wrap-ups #book hauls #read in 2022 #my photos

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dashawfrostart · 7 months

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Long Time No Talk - And This Week In "Time & Again"

... I am not gonna lie, it's a been a while. I really stopped posting virtually everywhere for a few months - that is, undoubtedly, because of my remarkably introverted tendencies when it comes down to posting on social. But for those, who know me, this should not come as a surprise.

Some endeavours we take sound awesome at first - but afterwards the spark simply dims, and you don't feel like that was a nice idea anymore. It happened to me a few times - and let's be honest: this happens to everyone of us from time to time! Maybe it has to do with the amount of effort we didn't anticipate, or maybe the idea just doesn't sound as exciting over time, for some tend to lose interest quickly. Blogging hasn't been easy for me in my twenties and later on.

I feel bad about it though. Because this is something that I really wanted to do. I'm an old-schooler after all 😎. But truth be told, it's never too late to start over or continue! And my writing practice makes it an important undertaking. Just as I've already mentioned in my very first blog post: my goal and the purpose of this website hasn't changed. Some people I know in real life are fascinated with my manner of writing - although I myself am not particularly convinced. I think I have a lot of room for improvement. It's all pretty subjective though. But I don't like to look back, to dwell on the past, and to hang on to whatever has been lost. Instead - even though I might stumble on my way - I will go further and press on. Giving up is not my motto. I am still very eager to practice writing - and I will do it here.

And lately I even came up with a nice way to fulfill that wish.

On to the important topic now! To make this place a bit more lively and significantly less boring, I decided to take on a great responsibility! And I've been thinking about that for a while already. I'm going to start posting once-per-week posts with updates on how the work with "Time & Again" is coming along. I guess I could share that with the rest of you. Mind you: I've never been a big fan of spoilers and I didn't like to show off the unfinished pieces and WIPs very much... Although my views recently started to shift. I think I might be okay with that now. Let this be my little devlog, just like the videogame developers would've put it - but about my graphic novel instead of a game! (the game might still be coming out... It's still in my dreams, but who knows? Opportunities might suddenly turn up, right?!)

And just to tease you a little more... There's A LOT going on with "Time & Again" right now ;) You think I disappeared from the face of the Earth without a reason, or because I'm lazy, or because another one wave of typical for me "social networks disappreciation" covered me up?!.. No, you're wrong! 🤪 I've been, indeed, working very hard on the continuation of my strange story that will sure take quite an unexpected - for some - turn of events.

To avoid turning this post into a sudden wall of text - although if you're here reading my notes AND my graphic novel, then I'm sure you must not have anything against walls of text, you know what I mean, right? 😁 - for this first post from "This Week In 'Time & Again'" series I'll just briefly mention what I've done so far.

As some of you remember, Chapter 4 broke off on a rather uncertain note.

There is a reason to it. The next 4 chapters are going to be somewhat different in style and feel. It's an experimental graphic novel after all.

Over the past few months, I spent a lot of time polishing the script for the rest of the story, trying to straighten the paths that have been bent and didn't make the creation look good. In the last few days, I worked diligently on making the page templates for Chapter 5, and arranged the text lines, and speech bubbles.

At this point of time, the storyboard for Chapter 5 is 100% complete, and now I just need to fill all the pages up with the artworks! Simple and exciting!.. I perhaps made it sound extra simple. But really, it has never been easy. Making all these artworks takes time - sometimes a lot of time. One really should not underestimate the work of artist, because it's a tough job (that sometimes hardly ever pays 🤪). Right now everything goes well and quite fast. I'm not competing against time, I'm just working on it continuously and dedicatedly with a minimum of distractions as possible (still play Doom mods tho XD). So I'm getting there!

So far, I'm aiming to release Chapter 5 at around Christmas/New Year's. That said though, since I'm planning on complete overhaul of the design elements for the rest of the websites and social prior to release of Chapter 5 - for the new concept requires that! - I honestly might not make it in time. But the time will tell. No reason to plan way too far ahead and attempt divinations before starting the main part of the work 😁 So I'll just see how it goes.

That's it for today, folks! See you next week with another one - hopefully larger and more substantial! - post from "This Week In 'Time & Again'" series! Take care! 👋 (and prepare yourselves to be spooked 😈, heheheh!)

#This Week In Time and Again #TimeAndAgainbyDWF #graphic novel #thoughts

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devsgames · 1 year

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Devlog: Bombing!! 2 Localization Work

(This post was cross-posted from my Patreon where I share devlogs, behind the scenes looks at my game development process, and longer insights about games and working on them in general. Please consider supporting me if this is helpful to your or you like the work I do :) )

Initially I wasn't going to implement localization for Bombing!! 2 in any language except English. Bombing!!: A Graffiti Sandbox was my first foray into localization on a project and it really forced my attention away from other things as it was such a larger undertaking than I had initially anticipated, so I didn't want to do it all again.

This time however well.......I have quite a bit of time to work nowadays, so I figured it's a good opportunity to explore localization methods and see what I can make work for Bombing!! 2

Previously on Bombing!! 1 I had written a script that referenced a localization .txt document for each language Bombing!! 1 was translated in. I attached a script to any text that needed localizing, and it would basically just read from the relevant .txt document that shipped with the game in order to determine what font to use and what words to display for the system's current language.

Now this was well and good for Bombing!! 1 because it didn't have too much to translate outside of a few level names and some spraypaint colors (I think it was around 700 words max?).

However, Bombing!! 2 has actual dialog! And menus! And tutorials in place! Its systems and interactions are a lot more complex, so I think a simple text doc won't quite cut it.

That's where Google Sheets localization comes in!

This tool can basically pull Google Sheet data, save it to a .csv and read keys from it through script. Though the approach is very similar to mine for Bombing!! 1, pulling from a Google Sheet is much handier than having to make and manage a unique .txt file for every language and contain all languages in one. This is super handy not only for readability of data, but also to help me quicky parse it and divide it in engine too.

I spent the better part of the day today copying my existing dialog data (which was previously stored in a struct within scriptable objects in my project) into the Google Sheets, and now it's just going to live there. It was a TON of work to copy every. single. text element. from my engine data into this new localization sheet, and then copying the associated key back into my data again...but that's work I'll only have to do once, and going forward this is only going to help me in the long run. In reality too, this is my own fault for leaving localization out of the picture until so late into the project.

There's still a bit of work to do in converting some fonts over to support non Romanized text. Though I don't speak many languages outside of English, I can only assume this is exactly how Russian is supposed to read anyway.

Next steps will be to use the same mechanism to swap out text materials when the language changes for non-Latin characters (for example, Russian uses a Cyrillic alphabet and needs to change the actual font in order to be translated properly).

Patreon | Discord | Wishlist Bombing!! 2

#bombinggame #game dev #game development #unity #gamedev #gamedevelopment #indie game #indie games #indie dev #video game #video games #gamer #games #gaming #localization #UI

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rachaellawrites · 1 year

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Witchiness, A Legendary Finale, and Definitely Just Football: February 2023 Wrap-Up

February has certainly been an interesting reading month. Two 5-star reads, a soft DNF, an absolutely wild short story experience – and that’s just the reading! There was also the much anticipated finale to season 2 of TLoVM, which I’m still obsessed with.

Let’s get into it, shall we?

What I’ve Enjoyed

Books

The Witchery by S. Isabelle This book was stunning. Beautiful prose, intense atmosphere, and memorable characters. And the twist! I had seen elements of it coming, but the details and ultimate outcome surprised me. Impatiently awaiting the sequel. A Perilous Undertaking by Deanna Raybourn I read the first book of this series back in December and loved it, and the second installment is no less amazing. Stoker and Veronica’s dynamic continues to be a delight, with excellent banter and her (sometimes obliviously) tormenting him with her sexual wiles and forthrightness. The mystery plot was well laid out and engaging, and the resolution was both dramatic and satisfying. Definitely planning to continue with the series.

Other

What Football Will Look Like in the Future (17776) It’s a totally normal article about football. Nothing to see here. (No, but actually you should read it. It’s wild.)

What I've Created

Articles

Valentines Romance Reads From a (Wannabe) Lover of Romance The last couple of years, I’ve really been trying to get into reading more romance. The results so far are a bit of a mixed bag, but I’ve definitely found some gems that I adored, and I wanted to share them! Especially for other readers like me who seem to be a biiit picky with our romance preferences. -Even More Clever Changes in Season 2, Episodes 7-9 of The Legend of Vox Machina -The Final Clever Changes Made in Season 2, Episodes 10-12 of The Legend of Vox Machina The final half of The Legend of Vox Machina, Season 2 came out this month, and these last six episodes were as impeccable as the first. Continuing to love how the Critical Role and their team balance staying true to the original narrative while also heavily condensing it, and adding new and interesting twists to the events of the story.

Other

Witchiness, Victorian Mystery, and a Soft DNF | FEB READING VLOG February was a solid reading month, as you can probably tell from the two books I praised above. But it also brought some disappointment. And an ongoing read!

#Monthly Wrap-Up #book recommendations #Booktube #Reading vlog #TLoVM

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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We are approaching another zenith. And it is gigantic it is the superior conjunction of Saturn which is my planet. And it is a massive massive undertaking. It is such a large undertaking that we have barely scratched the surface and we might not make the deadline for a huge job at hand. And what he says is true that we need to be working on this orbs and wholeheartedly and we need our troops and we need tons of them and I'm calling hours to arms there's only one month left ever running low already on a regular daily routine here. Is getting to be a desperate situation and now I see what he's saying this is a huge undertaking and we have to focus on so many things and these idiots are distraction however necessary regard to have to do some drastic measures I believe

Hera

I do see the problem it's been coming up pretty quick and here it is and he says that if you move the Earth and it ignites we could be in a lot of trouble and it's actually true because of friction or static or other so you have to make safe all of the orbs and I'll remove them I've been working fast to do it and there are a lot of them huge numbers and they're quite sizeable by comparison and I understand that our people don't understand completely what we're doing with them and I have to make it clear to them and he's saying on a different channel and I agree what's the point so we will do so and hopefully that will help. Otherwise we don't have a handle on it and it won't happen again for 2 years and really it is a major undertaking and this war is going a lot slower than an anticipated and it is much more dangerous than we thought it probably will have a different pace and feeling safer there nuts. So we are looking at this window I want to do with it and their ships are basically junk so just leave them there he says it's not that much metal by comparison. There's several things I want to do and the first is to award him a medal for what he's trying to think of I do understand what he's saying there has to be a way and there is and he's mentioning it and he thinks of a safer way he says I agree with something this is going to be awesome and they did not form in the planet and they're not as deep as people think and removing them as intelligent and that's what we should do and he says that would probably need to Shell off and we probably do and then with that we can control anything might happen with the Giants and with Jaeger and maybe proceed but we need devices from here and I'm going to look into it. We do understand what he's asking too it's like a puzzle how does something come out if that needs to come out first and it would be second other ways to do it and we need to work on that but there are definite needs I definitely issues. Unless we remove it and it would not be big enough from each and she would have to remove Harris there's definitely large enough and it's what we need for the task. We are a little bit behind but you can see we're probably working up here and that would be The fleets for our people who are not on Earth as well. So you slide out and do the job, the real question is do you need to take the shell off and he says we can experiment with that and we should and the proper testing and get it done now in order to be ready at the same place and we acknowledge that's pretty smart so I'm putting it in now for approval

Zig Zag

What the hell that was weird and started off the day feeling good then you said that I feel bad I felt bad about it for a while then I said that to them they said I don't think we can do that, they mentioned the shell so now we're doing testing and I've seen it work and they do say why so I have to tell you it's not a bad idea and we're going to go ahead and start working on that and we have a huge number of orbs to work on. It's coming up momentarily and I'll tell you what we need these Galactus immediately and the Harvesters. Raise I'm here and they raised a huge ones. And where at work

Hera

I brought it up and I have most likely a foolproof method as usual I don't think we should have a meeting no we should and get together and I'll lay it out of where is you'll see little work and we can run all the testing today and it's a huge program and she's initializing it she says. It's expedient but we need to do it we need a force and we needed to be ours I'm going to express that too in the meeting.

Zues

I'm really getting some confidence here but no that's how I'm in our boys and I don't want to do it and I need to get this project going I knew about the idea and I know it'll work and I know we need monsters and some of them are quite huge I know what he's talking about too and how to do it and a lot of those piles went somewhere it will use it and it's going to be fine I'm going to draw up a schedule and according to the message that we're doing our cadre. And I'm going to have a Manning chart and how many people we need and and more for the entire event which is 2 weeks long after that it's over so let's get a move on and yeah this is some hefty work okay Morrison Knudsen could not handle one of the projects

Hera

We're meeting momentarily

And it's a good job Zeus and I do see what you're saying that's a good test he says you should have some sizable ones although it's large enough to be an issue and we do have some that are huge but not that huge it will take some time and I do agree with you and I'm going to put that in the pipe right now and we do have others but we will raise him you see what we can and we can use uranium we need to do this faster it's taking way too long way too much fuel

Thor Freya you say to test it on the real thing after we do some testing in order to do so we have to have it ready and that would be having her ready that is

I agree with this approach there's no other way to do it it's way too slow it takes too much time and there's no way to control a reaction if it happens and we do need it for this kind of experiment and we need it now

Nuada Arrianna

There's a huge number of people when they're going to say are people should be aware this is part of our plan and you're part of it and you need to sign on immediately and we need the help these people are not to know when we're saying it because for some reason you're not listening it's absolutely true we're competing with these people and they sort of know about it a lot of them know okay

Olympus

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parvulous-writings · 3 years

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Not so Wyld morning // Bill S Preston + Ted Logan x M!Reader

Request: can you write a fluff oneshot with bill (s preston) x ted logan x m! reader with like. a sleepy morning between the three?

Requested by: @mlmpunisher

Summary: Starts off as the request, and then goes off on a trip to the Circle K. I may or may not have gotten carried away.

Warnings: a brief joke about kidnapping/death.

Words: 3.5K

Notes: I’ve been waiting for an idea/request for these two. They’re my comfort idiots. My love for them... Let’s just say I watch the movies a fair amount, eh? My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

You, Bill and Ted were spread rather haphazardly over Bill’s bed. Legs crossed over one another, hands on chests or in faces. You were all tangled together, not that any of you really cared about that at that moment. You had all fallen asleep during a study session- you had been desperately trying to tutor your boyfriends Bill and Ted, so that they didn’t fail their history class and completely flunk out of school- mostly because Ted’s father, Captain Logan, was threatening to send the taller boy away to an Alaskan military school to whip him into shape should he fail the semester. That was now an all too real threat to the three of you, none of you wanted to get pulled apart from one another. You had been trying to quiz them on the philosophies of the great Athenian thinker Socrates (whom both young men insisted on pronouncing So-Crates no matter how many times you corrected them) when you passed out one by one. First Ted- who was up against the headboard, and whose head had slumped forward when you had gotten onto the fifth or sixth question. Then Bill, draped over Ted’s legs, after leaning back to protest about how the quiz was starting to become “A total drag,” around the tenth question. He had promptly passed out whilst you were telling him it was for their own good- you weren’t all that surprised when you were interrupted by a rather loud snore coming from the curly-haired Bill.You hadn’t bothered to try and wake either of them- not only would they both be rather irritable if you woke them up too early, but it was nearly one o’clock in the morning at that point, so you figured that perhaps they were both subconsciously onto something. You had taken the range and array of textbooks off of the bed, creating a little more space for you to somehow work yourself between them and get more comfortable to get some sleep of your own. After some shuffling, and a few murmurs from both Bill and Ted, you had found the perfect position, where you had promptly fallen asleep with them.

You were the first to wake up. Ted had taken your arm in both of his in your sleep, cuddling it as if it were a teddy bear. Bill’s legs had somehow tangled with yours, and he had ended up nuzzled into the side of your chest, not that you minded all that much. Though Ted was the more affectionate of your boyfriends in public, Bill could be just as affectionate as him in private. You tried not to move at first, not wanting to disturb them- they could both be as bad as each other when it came to being woken up too early (too early was counted as anything before they woke up by themselves). So, for what you had gauged to be about twenty minutes or so, you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. There were no thoughts of any importance that drifted through your mind at this point, not until you had finally grown restless enough to carefully push yourself up onto one elbow to check the time on Bill’s alarm clock- which he rarely actually used as anything more than just a normal clock. It had just gone half past ten, and you felt your eyes go wide- that was much later than you had anticipated. Thankfully it was a weekend, though briefly your brain had tricked itself into thinking it was mid-week, causing even more of a jolt in your chest. You would have to get up soon to make your way back home; it was bad enough that you had spent the night out without letting your parents know that you’d be out past eleven o’clock. Every moment past nine in the morning that you spent away from them, the angrier they would get with you. With this thought in mind you tried to push yourself up a little bit more, fully prepared to undertake the rather massive task of trying to begrudgingly untangle yourself from the two men you held dear, but you were quickly brought back down again by an unseen hand. Your head landed on Ted’s stomach, and you glanced over to him, seeing him peering back at you through tired eyes and a rather messy head of hair. He gave you a rather dopey smile, and you realised he was the one to pull you back; mostly prompted by the fact that Bill was giving another round of freight-train like snores. Ted’s head fell back again when you didn’t struggle against his protests of getting out of bed, and he gave a yawn before beginning to speak. “Morning, chief.” He mumbled, voice still raspy with the last dregs of sleep his body was trying to cling onto. “I don’t get why you call me that.” You replied in a whisper, trying not to wake Bill. “Surely I should be the one calling you that- given your dad’s job and everything...” “Eh,” Was Ted’s simple reply, accompanied with a rather lazy shrug. It was about a minute before the only other boy awake in the room started to speak again. “I mean, it does kind of suit you, doesn’t it? You keep me and Bill in order...” He prompted, glancing over to you with that same goofy smile, before his gaze moved back to the ceiling. “For the most part, I guess.” You smiled back at him, taking his hand and draping his arm across you, so you could play absently with his fingers. Ted never minded that.

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence, which was disturbed only briefly, and rather inconsistently, by Bill’s snores. You weren’t sure how long you laid there for this time, but the rather delightful monotonous repetition was ultimately interrupted by a quiet groan of protest from the blonde haired boy at the end of the bed. He rolled onto his front, trying to cover his eyes- he had fallen asleep rather inconveniently where the light peaked through the blinds in the early morning. “Someone close the blinds,” He complained, trying to turn away from them but ultimately failing. “Bill...” You chuckled lightly, nudging him to get his attention. “They are closed. The light is coming through the gap.” Your words were only met with a groan from Bill, and a stifled laugh from Ted. “You should get it fixed, dude.” The taller boy jested, nudging the boy again, and Bill responded with a half-hearted swipe at Ted’s foot. “Shut up, Ted.” Of course, he didn’t mean this in an inherently horrid way, despite his gruff tone. He loved both you and Ted deeply, more than he could love anything else- or at least that was what he thought. Ted thought very much the same thing- though that was no surprise. More often than not, it was like the two shared the exact same brain. If they were not thinking of the exact same plan down to the detail when it came to schemes, they were at the very least agreed on the end result. Most of the time this wasn’t too much of a problem for you- usually you were at the butt end of whatever shenanigan they were plotting- but there were times when you did get a little bit overwhelmed by the pair of them. More often than not, the times where you got overwhelmed involved a very particular phone-booth, with some rather unique properties. Unless you were in it’s presence you tried not to think about it- the amount of times you had been put through mind-bending situations already made your head spin to even consider again. They’d predict something, it would happen immediately after said prediction, then they would turn to one another and proclaim a quick “Excellent!” before reminding one another that they would need to remember that later. You were still a little bit confused by it- especially when they sprung something random on you-but you thought you were slowly starting to understand, even though the concept of time travel didn’t seem quite real.

You broke your train of thought upon feeling a sudden weight on your chest. Though you wanted to crane your neck to see who it was, you didn’t really need to, you knew it was Bill. You did it anyway- your eyes being met with the golden curls of Bill’s hair. “Bill, love, I’m going to have to get up soon.” You warned him, as your movement would definitely affect him more than Ted. “No.” He replied simply. From his tone, you could tell he didn’t overly want to debate it. “But I stayed over without letting my parents-” “You’re fine, you’re safe, what do they have to complain about?” He grumbled, shuffling so that his chin was on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your middle. His deep green eyes met yours, before flitting briefly to Ted, giving you both a smile. “C’mon, dude. It won’t hurt to have a little longer with us, right?” He asked, and you moved your hand to quickly brush a stray curl from his brow. “Maybe he should go soon- like, just to check in.” Ted piped up, ever in your corner. “Cause you know what happens if he gets in trouble. He won’t get to see us for like... A week. That is most heinous, and you know it.” At this rather right line of reasoning, Bill groaned, burying his face into the fabric of your shirt. “Shut up, Ted.” This was quite muffled, and of course still not completely serious. You laughed softly, “Okay- what about this? One hour. Like this.Then, we can ask Missy to drive us back to my place, and I can let my parents know I’m fine, and you two haven’t like... Murdered me, or something.” You joked, and you can feel Ted nod enthusiastically underneath you. “Yeah, that’s a good idea!” He agreed, and you could hear the smile that was in no doubt plastered onto his face. “Then we can all head down to the Circle K afterwards, right?” “Sure we can, Ted.” You agreed, reaching up behind you to clumsily pat his cheek. “Only if he isn’t in trouble, remember?” Bill pitched in, shuffling to get comfortable again. “What about half an hour? If we want to head to Circle K, obviously.” You all consider this new plan for a moment, before each of you gave a curt nod, in unison.

So there you all stayed- you nearly even fell asleep again before you felt Bill roll off of you. He then took your arm and helped you up, and Ted quickly rolled off of the bed to grab his sneakers. Bill chucked yours at you, before going to get his shoes as well. Ted was the first downstairs- “Hey, Missy?” He called out, and he was quickly met with the young woman’s reply. “Yeah? What’s up, Ted?” She asked, giving a warm smile. “We were hoping that you could drive us to (Y/N)’s house?” He asked, briefly wringing his hands, as he eagerly awaited her response. “Sure thing!” She nodded cheerily, “Let me just finish making these drinks, and I’ll be right with you. You guys go out to the car.” She nodded over to the door leading to the garage. As you and Bill started down the stairs, Ted eagerly gestured for you both to follow him. It didn’t take Missy very long to finish making the drinks she was preparing, and you all piled into the car. “So- did you all sleep well?” The blonde woman asked, glancing back at you and Bill in the back of the car- Ted had a fascination with sitting in the front seat. Ted and Bill nodded individually; you were the one to verbally reply. “Yeah, I think we all got a fairly good night sleep.” You give an almost awkward smile. Though, at one point, both of your boyfriends had had some form of crush on her- despite her being quite a few years older than all of you- you hadn’t entirely understood why. You never really mentioned it though. “Good to hear,” She replied, still wearing that joyful smile. “Hey, Bill- you might need to use the spare key today, the one behind the plant, if you’re staying out late with the boys.” She took a turning as she spoke, keeping her eyes on the road. “Me and your dad are going out for dinner tonight.” “Okay, Missy- I mean, mom.” Bill replied, quickly correcting himself on his mistake. “Just stop on the corner here,” He told her, gesturing to the side of the road a five minute walk from your house. “Are you sure?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke. “I can take you all the way, if you-” “No, it’s alright, thanks, Missy.” You interrupt quickly, leaning forward. “Here is fine.” She shrugged, but begrudgingly pulled over.

“Thanks, Missy!” Ted called after the now fleeting car, giving a wave as well, before jogging to catch up with you and Bill, who had already started to cross the road to get to your street. “I’ll quickly grab some money whilst we’re there,” You told the pair of them, and they nodded. “I was thinking we could get some slushies.” Ted suggested, giving a wide smile. “Blue and red?” Bill added, giving a smile of his own, and Ted nodded energetically. “Our tongues’ll end up as purple, you two know that, right?” You teased with a grin, glancing over your shoulder as Bill laughed heartily. It took Ted a moment longer to get the joke, but he started laughing even harder than Bill when it clicked with him. “Oh well,” Bill shrugged, a rather mischievous smile. You fell into silence again as you jogged up your driveway, almost wrenching open the door and calling out a hasty “Hey!” to announce your presence to the household and those within it. You quickly made your way to your room, as Bill and Ted quietly entered your home after you, choosing to stay in the hallway- even though they had visited and stayed over at your house many times before. They were both silently hoping that they were making their will to leave relatively soon clear. Your father came into the living room, glancing to the two boys standing awkwardly in the hallway. “Bill, Ted.” He greeted, calmly. Bill mouthed a silent ‘Hi’, whilst Ted just waved. Neither of them wanted to anger your parents- Ted, because he knew how authority figures could be, he’d had experience with his own father, and Bill just didn’t want you to be punished and kept away from them. You came back through as quickly as you could, palming some of your loose change in your hand, making sure you would have enough for a slushie for yourself, and for your boyfriends if they hadn’t brought any money with them- which was more than likely. “Going out again?” Your father asked you, wanting to make some sort of conversation. You nodded, glancing to him and giving a smile. “Yeah, heading out to Circle K with Bill and Ted.” You told him. He was a lot more relaxed with the rules than your mother- whom you currently assumed to be out for lunch with one of her friends. “Did your study session go well, then?” “Yeah- we went over Socrates again. We all passed out- that’s why I didn’t come home or call last night.” Your father laughed gently, he understood. “I figured as much. Your mother was saying that you could have been kidnapped- but I kept saying you’re a smart kid, you’d know what to do if that were a risk. Plus, I don’t think there’s anyone in San Dimas who would want to kidnap you.” “Even if they did want to steal him away, we’d take whoever it is on,” Bill stated, confidently- nudging Ted. “Yeah, we would!” The taller boy confirmed with a nod. You giggled and shook your head at the pair. Even your father chuckled gently at them. “Good to know my son is in safe hands.” Though your father was aware that these two weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed of San Dimas, he wasn’t about to take away some of your only company. Your mother had brought it up to him before, but he usually elected to ignore the comments. “Anyway- get going, before your mother gets back. If she sees you going off with these to again without checking in properly she’ll have a fit.” He gestured to the door, “Just be back by eleven tonight, alright?” “We’ll have him back by then!” Ted told him, opening the door and striding out, followed closely by Bill, and then you. Your father gave a wave, before heading back into your family home.

There were few words on the journey to the local orange ringed store, you only started to speak again when you had each purchased your chosen flavour of slushie. Bill with strawberry, Ted with blue raspberry, and you with another blue raspberry. You all took a seat on the curb, and you decided to fill the silence with one of the first thoughts that came to your head mid-sip. “So, are you two ready for the end-of-semester presentation Mr Ryan is going to assign?” You asked, and both of your boyfriends looked rather shocked. “What? He’s done it with every other year-group, and we’re not exactly different, specification wise....” You pointed out, and Ted groaned. “I suck at presentations.” He complained, “Plus neither of us can remember anything that Mr Ryan has taught us!” He exclaimed, gesturing rather wildly with his slushie. “I mean, even with your help, dude, I don’t think we’re going to do all that well.” You were about to speak, but Bill was the one to step in first. “We gotta try, man,” He placed an affectionate hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “If we don’t, it’s even more likely that you’re going to be sent off to that heinous school in Alaska.” Ted considered this, then nodded. Bill was right. “I’ll do everything I can to help my boys remember all they can,” You told them, a fond smile on your face which they quickly returned. They loved being referred to as your boys, they couldn’t even deny it- you could see it in their eyes. Bill leant over and pressed a very brief kiss to your cheek- though not before checking the parking lot was clear, empty of onlookers- and Ted reached across Bill’s legs to grab your hand, squeezing your palm to show some affection; you were too far away for a kiss from him, and he didn’t overly want to get up whilst his slushie was still rather full. He took a sip from the plastic straw in his beverage, before clearing his throat. “So..” He began, starting to grin wider than usual. “Who wants to make purple?” He nudged Bill, who then quickly looked to you, wearing the same grin as your other boyfriend. You started to laugh- of course this had been something that neither of them had forgotten.

Without another word exchanged between you, you leant to close the gap between you and Bill, letting lips and tongue tangle in a passionate display of affection. Ted stared on adoringly, not overly minding that Bill was the first to get your attention and affection- though now he had finished off the majority of his drink he scuttled round to your other side, carefully taking your jaw in his hand when you eventually pulled away from Bill to catch your breath. Your break didn’t last for too long, since Ted pulled you gently so your already kiss swollen lips met his equally soft ones. Bill couldn’t help the warm and love-filled smile that spread over his face, before he just had to press a kiss to your cheek, and then reach over to Ted’s cheek to make sure he wasn’t left out. You all separated after a minute or so, and you wiped your lip carefully, wearing the same wide and almost goofy smile as the other two. Your lips, and tongue, as predicted, had turned a rather strange shade of purple. “I think we should get another snack,” Ted suggested, “Cause I’m hungry, and then we can get the colour off of our tongues,” He grinned, and Bill considered the preposition. “I guess some food wouldn’t hurt...” He agreed, “Marshmallows?” He suggested, which was replied to with a nod from both you and Ted. “I’ll get them then,” Bill smiled at you both, searching his pocket for some spare change as he got to his feet; marshmallows were a fair bit cheaper than slushies, and he could afford them with what he had to hand. Whilst he went back into the Circle K, you shuffled closer to Ted, smiling lightly as he drew you closer with an arm around your shoulder. That morning had certainly been most excellent, as most of the time with your boyfriends always was- it was something that you always looked forward to; spending time with them, making memories that would forever make you smile.

#bill and ted #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and ted's bogus journey #bill s preston esquire #bill s preston #ted logan #ted theodore logan #alex winter #young keanu #80s/90s keanu #keanu reeves #ted logan x reader #bill preston #bill s preston x reader #bill and ted x reader

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gauri-vishalakshi · 2 years

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Ours

I accidentally deleted the request LOL so I don't know who it was from; hope whoever requested it sees it though!

Ram x wife!reader, background Jenny x Sita

You looked up at a sympathetic, teary-eyed Sita in disbelief. "Are you sure?" You asked, trembling. Your husband's cousin shook her head in the affirmative. "I'm sure, Y/N. I'm so sorry." Sita gripped your hands in hers. "I'm aware I know nothing about your present situation, but perhaps you could learn to see this as something good?" At your silent nod, she left the house you had shared with your husband to make the short trip back to the home she shared with her fiancee Jenny.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

You still remembered that incident clearly. "You're pregnant, akka. Baava would've been so happy." Sita had said. Then, it had been a month after the fateful day Ram had left with the intent of saving Bheem from execution and never returned. Now, it had been five. You recalled the last night you spent with him, the one that had gotten you pregnant. Ram had been so gentle, kissing away the rogue tears that found their way down your cheeks at the thought of the dangerous mission your husband was about to undertake. You both knew there was a possibility he would never return, and while neither of you voiced it, you conveyed it through your bodies as Ram and you made love that night.

You had gotten the news the next day that he had been jailed. A few weeks later, the nausea and fatigue had started. At the time, you had written it off to sorrow about Ram's imprisonment, but it had concerned both Jenny and Sita, the latter of whom confirmed your suspicions.

You were now five months pregnant and clearly showing, and it had been three days since you and Sita had filled Bheem in on Ram's mission. Bheem had been elated upon learning about your pregnancy, but had quickly become guilt-ridden, hysterically apologizing about taking away an innocent child's father (you had gone to remind him that Ram was your husband too, but had thought better of it). After vowing to bring Ram back to you, Bheem had left with an aim in mind. You were broken out of your reminiscence as Sita ran into your house in the village (Sita, Jenny, and you had moved there temporarily after the people's whispers about your pregnancy had culminated in a panic attack), screaming and crying and waving her hands as if the world itself was ending. "Akka! Baava's home!" You raised yourself from the bed and walked as fast you could to the road, where you spotted Bheem's truck.

Bheem got out first, a wide smile on his face, and a moment later the other door shut. You held your breath in anticipation to see him again. Tears came to your eyes immediately as you saw your husband, battered, bruised, unshaved, long-haired (your hormone-influenced brain went down a hair-pulling rabbit hole for a moment), yet beautifully, wonderfully alive. You saw him smile at you, and bit your lip, waiting for his reaction. Would he be happy? The two of you had never really talked about children, and you had been terrified when you first found out, and you were already five months pregnant, and- Your spiraling thoughts were cut off as you noticed Ram had seen your bump, his eyes widening in equal mixtures wonder and confusion.

"Y/N, you're-" He paused, overcome with a plethora of emotions. You nodded, stepping closer to him. "I found out about a month after you were taken prisoner." "How far along are you?" He whispered. "Five months." "I-" Ram stopped again, looking down at his hands. You felt like your heart had shattered. He was hesitant. "I-I understand if you don't want the baby, but I'm not interested in getting rid of him or her. I suffered through months of horrible morning sickness for this child, and I am not letting that go down the drain." You turned around, about to break down when you felt a rough hand grasp your wrist.

"No, Y/N, you misunderstood me. I want nothing more than this baby. I just-I've never had a father, so how can I be a good one?" Your heart broke for him as you gripped his hands in yours. "I don't know, Ram, because I'm not exactly the "sweet, motherly" type. But we'll learn along the way, won't we?" He nodded, a smile breaking out on his face. "I remember when Amma was pregnant with Chotu. She'd eat nothing but-" "Avakaya!" Sita interjected with a laugh as the cousins shared a tearful embrace. After they had broken apart, he turned back to you. "Can I feel him or her?" Ram asked hesitantly. You smiled before setting his warm, callused hand on the side of your sari where your waist was exposed. Suddenly, you felt a jolt, right under where Ram's palm laid. You and your husband looked up, wearing matching expressions of shock, before you proclaimed: "The baby kicked!"

Everyone crowded around the two of you (with Bheem giggling uncontrollably every time the baby kicked for him), and you thanked Bheem profusely for returning your husband to you. "Anytime, amma. Though I sure hope he doesn't do it again." The two of you laughed as you watched Ram attempt to give both Malli and Sita a piggyback ride at the same time while Jenny laughed at the trio. You leaned into the arms of the man you had come to consider as your elder brother, sighing in contentment at the sight before you and the wonderful ones to come. And, you thought, the best part'll be that we'll all share the happiness. It won't be mine or Ram's, it'll be ours.

A/N: I chose to do this request because of the overwhelming lack of Ram x reader fluff LOL; tagging @manwalaage @lil-stark @thewinchestergirl1208@contemporarykafka @aurora2238@maraudersfansassemble@itsfookingloosah @rambheem-is-real@adrakchutneyofficial @darlingletshurttonight @seherie@redirection04 @ramayantika @how-is-it-in-london enjoy!

#rrr #ram x reader #jennysita

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bugsyfics · 3 years

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The Flower Who Bloomed (Part 2)

Undertaker x Reader

Fandom: BB

Summary: Undertaker requests for another visit with Y/N despite the conflict he is causing. Like Undertaker said, “once a lie is unraveled, the truth comes tumbling forth” —and so it does.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, some serious teasing

Word Count: 1.8k

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After you leave Undertaker’s shop, dress slightly disheveled and hair every which way, there’s no doubt that you have been absolutely ravished. With one good stare it is obvious what activities you were previously involved in. But even as you walk aimlessly around town to find a carriage in the brisk fall air, Undertaker’s words still play in your head.

•••

“Do not tell anyone about our little encounter, dear. He wouldn’t —they wouldn’t be very happy,” Undertaker spoke low, biting his tongue.

Undertaker phoned the earl, informing him he had seen you trip on the sidewalk, and tended to your twisted ankle. While that was a great excuse, nothing could get past Sebastian and you knew he would try to put the pieces together.

“Come here before you leave, my little flower,” Undertaker motioned to you, “I want to see you again soon. How does next week sound?”

You were unsure after the mess you got yourself into, but you just couldn’t say no to him.

•••

Fortunately when you arrive, no one is at the entryway to greet you, so you quickly walk to your bedroom. As you hum to yourself, changing into your nightgown, a knock at the door startles you. You slowly open the door to the hallway.

“Let me see your ankle, Y/N,” Sebastian says plainly. “It won’t take long. I need to check if it’s sprained.”

You smile wearily and sit on your bed holding out your leg. Sebastian grabs your ankle gingerly and observes it for much longer than you would like. After wrapping it with gauze, he looks beside himself, eyeing a pile of your clothes. “I can take those down to the laundry for you.”

“N-no! U-um I mean… it’s my job anyway,” you stammer and smile at him awkwardly.

“I insist, Y/N. You shouldn’t be walking at least for a couple days.”

Sebastian goes to pick up your clothing and you sweat nervously, aware that your soiled undergarments are stashed between your dress. Of course he wouldn’t say anything because it would be ungentleman-like, but the idea of him finding your ruined panties swallows you whole.

•••

Some days pass and surprisingly no one brings up the glaring flaws in your excuse. Though Sebastian has been observing you more often and it’s clear he’s on to you.

Instead of letting your curiosity eat away at you, you decide to ask Sebastian a question only he can answer. You stand in the doorway of the kitchen as he prepares dinner and clear your throat. “Good afternoon! I have a quick question about something that crossed my mind recently. It may sound a bit strange.”

Sebastian looks up at you and wipes his hands on the towel laid across his shoulder. You notice the slightest smirk cross his lips as he nods for you to continue. “Is it possible that the Percy twins were killed by something inhuman?” You watch as he raises his eyebrows in amusement. “For instance, like in the tales where a supernatural being eats innocent children.”

“Where did this come from all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t believe in those silly tales,” Sebastian prys.

“W-well I don’t… There’s just no other way to explain it. There aren’t any witnesses and the way they were so brutally killed…” you falter from your rambling.

“Did you need evidence to believe in the Church, or was it just second nature for you?”

“I guess it was second nature.”

“Exactly, Y/N. So why question yourself, if what you believe is the only plausible explanation?”

You never thought about it that way. Undertaker wasn’t wrong when he said Sebastian knew all about the supernatural. Though at first glance you wouldn’t think this butler in black would be knowledgeable of such topics. You thank him and turn to leave, but notice a glow cross his orbs and you do a double take, unsure if what you saw was only your imagination.

•••

Here you are back in town the next afternoon to run some errands. Young Master warned you to be more careful and to pay attention to the time so you didn’t have another mishap. You expected his tone to be much harsher, though he is more mindful of what he says to you, since you are his youngest servant.

You cross off the last reminder on your list, smiling to yourself. The timepiece reads a quarter to one and you’re expected to arrive back at 3, giving you a little over two hours to spare. A jittery feeling starts in your belly when you hear the bell chime as you enter. Yet again, Undertaker is nowhere to be seen, so you call out to him.

“Hello? Sir, it’s Y/N.”

It’s eerily silent as you walk further in. You sit your bags down on his desk carefully and decide to call him once more. “Hel—” you gasp, feeling icy hands cover your eyes.

“It’s me, dearie,” Undertaker whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to raise over your body. You eventually relax into him and pull his hands from your face.

“You scared me,” you giggle and turn towards him.

Undertaker’s hat is gone and his hair is pinned back as he stands simply wearing both a black long sleeved shirt and pants. His bangs still fall into his eyes, and you can’t help but feel bubbly. He grins at you, rubbing your arm lightly. “It’s only been a week and I’m craving you, my little flower.”

He rubs circles on your hip and leans down to kiss you, but pauses above your lips. “Oh how I crave you... but you told our little secret, didn’t you?”

“No. I promise I kept my word, sir,” you shake your head.

He presses you onto his desk and runs his fingers up your spine, until he reaches the back of your neck, gripping it firmly. “That is what you say, but how can I be so sure, poppet? I had an unlikely visitor last night, you see. Hehe, I didn’t think you would turn around and disobey me like this.”

“I swear, I can prove it to you!”

It never crossed your mind that perhaps this visitor was Sebastian. You were too worked up to even notice that minor detail.

“Well, show me you’re innocent, love. Then I’ll believe you,” Undertaker orders curtly and pulls away.

You unfold your arms and reach behind yourself undoing your gown, letting it fall freely and the cool air causes your exposed nipples to harden. Undertaker reaches up to caress one of your breasts fondly, toying at your small bud. “How exactly does this prove anything, love?”

The truth was, you were innocent, but your mistake was letting Sebastian take your clothes. He never once impeded on your privacy nor searched through your garments. To him your arousal was just strong enough to detect and he didn’t condone a Phantomhive maid being intimate with a close ally of the Young Master. Sebastian was aware that Undertaker often revealed much more than he should and your little involvement threatened the trust he had with the earl.

Naive as you were, you knew that giving yourself up to Undertaker once more would not only distract him from finger pointing, but also allow you to feel his hands touching your body again.

You shrug at Undertaker, biting back a moan as continues his assault on your swollen peaks. He stops to wrap his arms around you, rutting his clothed hard on against your bare pussy. One of his hands travels down your back while the other rakes through his light bangs hastily. You watch him with wide eyes as he reveals a hard stare and you gulp, wondering what his next move will be. “Do you remember what I taught you last week? Something that I said before ravishing you.”

You shake your head. There was certainly more than just one thing that you considered to be a lesson.

He laughs in a shallow manner and wags a finger at you, “Once a lie is unraveled… the truth comes tumbling forth, my little flower.” He pauses for a moment to pinch your nipples, causing you to whimper. “Sebastian knows.”

Your mouth falls open, but for two reasons: you can’t believe that Sebastian would go to such lengths to find you out and also at that very moment Undertaker brushes across your clit, spreading your slick with his fingers. He eagerly teases you in every way possible, practically making you drip onto the floor.

“W-wait! H-how would he—”

Undertaker grunts, putting his fingers to his lips to taste you. He takes his time sucking each finger as if he devoured an entire meal, savoring your sweetness.

“He could sense it —your arousal— after you returned.”

“Sense it how? He must have snooped through my clothes,” you scoff.

Undertaker shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you, “Have you not gotten it, love? The butler is a demon.”

He places his hands beside you, leaning onto your much smaller frame. His nose ghosts over your ear as he speaks, “He popped by last night, apparently not very happy about us having it away. Hehe, I guess your arousal exposed us, dearie. Right now I shouldn’t be here touching you the way I am —I was warned. But you make me drool with anticipation for your delicate flower.”

Undertaker grins, his face visibly brightens. His hands grab on your hips, even after revealing this shocking information. His grip is possessive, trapping you against himself as he hums into your neck. You love every bit of how he is holding you and you want this feeling to last, but how could Undertaker remain so unbothered?

He whispers, telling you he is ready to take you once again. Though when he pulls away and his face comes into view, your heart starts to race, heavily unsettled. You notice the same glow in his eyes as Sebastian’s, but there is a different gleam lying behind them. You knew at that moment why Undertaker was so infactuated with telling you about other beings, and specifically Sebastian. He certainly isn’t human either.

Undertaker is utterly amused as he watches your eyes widen just as his cock slips deep inside you. He sees that you connected the dots to his secret and he chuckles. “What is wrong my little flower? Have you figured out my age yet? Or is it too many centuries to count on your fingers?” He grabs your hand and places a kiss along your knuckles with a sly grin.

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

— bugs

Taglist: @second-weeb-chick

#not sfw #undertaker #black butler x reader #undertaker x y/n #undertaker x reader #black butler smut #black butler sebastian #undertaker smut #undertaker bb #undertaker kuroshitsuji #black butler #black butler x y/n #black butler fanfiction #undertaker imagines #black butler imagines

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