#wahey part four

[flecks-of-stardust]

And They Shall Always Follow — A Rain World Short Story

The bond between siblings cannot be broken by mere distance. Though lost, its siblings will always be where it is.

The third sibling bids farewell to the big tree, followed by the memories of Survivor and Monk as they do so.

No formal content warnings for this piece of writing.

It wakes to the gentle nuzzling of Egg Parent, a delicate nibbling on the ear that rouses it from the depths of sleep. Not fully awake yet, it nibbles back, but Egg Parent pulls away, padding towards the exit with fading footfalls. Other Parent is already gone, leaving behind but a scent to indicate a presence that was once there. It stretches, and then follows Egg Parent’s tracks, the dirt soft beneath every step it takes. It knows what is to come.

The tree is always larger than it remembers, and it takes a moment to look up into the branches of the tree. The faint scent of blue fruit lingers even here, at the tree’s roots, owing to the many batflies that have roosted here through the light falling and rising many times over. If it squints, it can maybe see the fruit in the highest boughs of the tree, a lengthy climb away.

It turns to look at Egg Parent and Other Parent, watches the gentle, quiet grooming. The air is heavy, heavier than usual. Other Parent looks at it, eyes bearing a similar heaviness, and flicks an ear; a permission, one that is not needed, but granted nonetheless. Then, Other Parent turns away, and Egg Parent follows, grooming, waiting.

No time to waste, then. Skittering forward, it approaches the base of the tree, gazing at the shrubbery around. Long, spindly leaves drape over the ground, providing ample space to play with the strands. It picks two of the leaves up, folding them over each other. How did Brave do this again? It watched Brave, once, sitting out here at night, fingers moving fast to twist the leaves into delicate, pretty braids. More often, when light came again, it would find the leaves all tied together. Why that was, Brave never explained, but wherever Brave went, braided leaves would follow.

It asked Brave how to do this, once. Brave held its hands and the leaves, moving its hands for them, but the moment it let go, the braid fell apart. It tries now, too, one leaf over, one under, one looping around, but the leaves spring apart regardless. Brave had not laughed then, instead nuzzling the top of its head gently; it wonders what Brave would think now.

It tears off one of the leaves, tucking it behind its ear, and continues. Up and up it goes, hand after foot after hand again, slowly climbing the tree. On the first branch, a thick, round and gnarled piece of wood, it pauses, walking out towards the end. Soft sat up here often, much like Brave was often around the bushes. Sometimes Soft would eat fruit while it sat here watching the light fade, the juices dripping down to the ground below; sometimes it would join Soft, and Soft would curl Soft’s tail around it, nibbling on fruit as the light dribbled out of the sky, bit by bit.

Soft always had fruit nearby. Sometimes it was hard to tell what Soft smelled like, because Soft often had fruit juice smeared on Soft’s snout, and so Soft also smelled like fruit. If Soft groomed its head, then it too would smell like fruit; it used to push Soft’s snout away until Soft groomed the fruit juice off. Despite that, the bark here does not smell like fruit, nor does it smell like Soft. But here, with the light dappling onto it through the leaves of the tree, if it focuses, it can smell Soft here still.

Padding all the way down the branch, it plucks off a small twig and tucks it behind its ear. Then it leaves the way it came, continuing further up the tree. Long ago, Brave and Soft climbed this way with it. It was hard to get a grip on the bark then; now, it doesn’t think twice before ascending, climbing with all the speed that Brave and Soft had had. This moment had seemed so faraway then, too, as if it would never grow to be as fast or as strong as Brave, or as determined as Soft. But here it is now, making the climb on its own.

The bark grows rougher, and the branches thin. Deftly, it leaps from bough to bough, climbing faster and faster. The rush of air past it as Brave had tossed it at Soft when it was young resembles how the sky flows around it now as it jumps up on its own. And with a few more steps, a few more leaps, the fruit is within reach, batflies flying every which way around its head. Plucking a single fruit off its stalk, it gratefully begins eating it.

It peers back down as it eats, seeing the distant silhouettes of Egg Parent and Other Parent. Ever since Brave and Soft left, things grew quiet here, and the air always felt more still. One moment Brave and Soft were here, and then the next, they were both gone. Egg Parent never explained much; there was rain, and there was wind, and it was dark. And then they were gone.

It munches on the fruit some more. Wherever Brave and Soft are now, they both must be thriving. Brave always knew what to do, and Soft was always kind. If anyone could survive on their own, it would be Brave, and Soft would find a companion quick, too. Perhaps they have both just lost their way? They are both clever enough to find their way back home.

Home no more, though. Cramming the last of the fruit in its mouth, it begins the trek back down, half sliding and half climbing. It, Egg Parent, and Other Parent are leaving now to find a new home. Why, it doesn’t know, but whatever new home they shall come across shall be just as wonderful as this. Other Parent is good at finding strange, tasty fruits and resources, and Egg Parent is great at making new things. Wherever they go, it will be just as warm, just as safe. And wherever they go, Brave and Soft will follow, too, eventually. Because why wouldn’t they?

It reaches the ground again, and it scampers over to Other Parent and Egg Parent. Other Parent roughly grooms it again, cleaning the fruit juice off its snout, and then nuzzles it forward. With a tail flick from Egg Parent, they set off, walking away from the tree, and it follows.

A few steps in, however, it pauses, looking back at the tree. It’s still strange to leave the tree behind, even if it’s prepared to go. All its life it has been here, with Brave and Soft at its side. The new home will be safe, will be warm, will be wonderful, but it will never be old home.

Egg Parent chirps. It gazes at the tree for a moment longer, then turns away, bounding after Egg Parent. It doesn’t matter, though. Because no matter where it goes, Brave and Soft will follow. Because they always have, and they always will.

#rain world #rain showers #memory fragments #wahey part four #if this reads weird i don't care i just want the idea out of my head LMAO #... alright how the fuck do i tag this #third sibling #have i. used that tag before. god #i don't know if i want to tag survivor and monk. they're not technically here #definitely mentioned though #and the parents are mentioned #... eh. whatever. take it

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

tagged by @malcolm-f-tucker, thank you most esteemed ant!

Nickname: em is already a nickname, hehe

Sign: gemini

Height: 5 ft/about 152 cm

Last thing I googled: nothing glamorous, just fuel price for the station near my uni

Amount of sleep: about 8, but i function best with 9

Dream job: professor of teaching in engineering and/or test pilot/flight test engineer

Wearing: i've changed into pambahay lol but for most of the day i was wearing full length jeans (lab day wahey) and a royal blue half-sleeve cropped t-shirt with white sneakers. plus a hat with an extension to cover the neck when i was out for lunch.

Media that summarises me: cabin pressure, hands down. and bach's two-part inventions

Favourite songs: tapestry by carole king, i can't go for that (no can do) by hall & oates, annie's song by john denver...

Instruments: piano and violin but violin's become my primary. also voice, if i decided to actually Do Something With It

Aesthetic: modest but full of personal meaning. pale wood and light colors but not pastel. a lot of blue in my wardrobe and scattered throughout my life.

Favourite author: Rizal, followed by Austen. C.S. Lewis gets a shoutout because the chapter about Friendship in The Four Loves makes me want to bite things

Random fun fact: i make a lot of ferrofluid. it just looks like regular muck until you hold a magnet up to it and then you can move it all around. it's so cool

Some favourite mutuals to tag: trying not to spam tag people since i did quite a few tag games the past few days, but here goes! @dreamofpeppermints, @containsmoss, @metastablephysicist, @starnewt, @cjflint

#em answers #tag games #the aesthetic one was so difficult. i don't really think i HAVE one tbh

[prettywordsyouleft]

Band Sessions: Young K

Pairing: Brian Kang x reader

Genre: band au / university au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2575

Index: Jae | Sungjin | Young K | Wonpil | Dowoon

Looking over at you, Brian’s smile grew unchecked, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. “What did you just say?”

“Why are you asking me to repeat it when I know you heard me?” you wondered with a sigh, your lips failing to hold back your amusement. Even if he was annoying with his teasing, you couldn’t help but react and he knew this. You began to collect your laptop and lecture supplies, finally shooting him a quick look in the process. “Can I come to the studio today?”

Brian had started dating you just as the new semester began. All of last semester, you had been in several of his classes and flirty banter was easily established between you both. He knew you liked him and the feeling was mutual, but with his concentration on the band and getting into a routine with his studies, Brian had held off from asking you out until recently.

And since you had answered easily and fell into a routine with him that made for optimal band time, studying and dating life, he wondered why it had taken him so long to make you officially his girlfriend.

Just thinking about how you were now his made him smile all too happily.

“Brian,” you called and he blinked away from his thoughts, finding you standing beside him with your thumb hiked in the direction of the lecture hall’s exit. “Are you ready to go?”

Nodding, he collected his things hastily and slung his bag over his shoulder, following you out into the atrium of the small lecture block. Reaching for your hand, he grinned and recovered from his bout of thought.

“So, the studio huh?”

“Well, you’ve never taken me there before,” you pointed out and Brian hummed in acknowledgement.

It was the one place he had yet to show you. Although you had seen him perform a few times and met all the band members before, you hadn’t actually joined him for a session. Admittedly, that had been intentional. Band sessions were kind of messy, with a lot of stopping and starting and conversations over how things should be improved or changed. When he was performing, it was the end product and you would see him at his best. And since you had gushed more than once about how attractive he was when doing just that, Brian didn’t exactly want to remove that image from your mind.

He didn’t want to seem any less impressive when the stage lights weren’t shining brightly on him.

Still, he was equally ready. The band was a big part of his life, and he spent several evenings a week practising hard at his skills. You had been his girlfriend long enough now that it seemed foolish to separate the two worlds. Swinging your hand in his, Brian nodded softly. “Do you want to come?”

“Of course.”

“Really? I might look silly.”

“You couldn’t possibly look any less handsome than you do right now and you’re literally doing nothing,” you assured and his lips twitched with the compliment. Nudging him playfully, you looked at him with a bright expression. “Plus, I want to see you play just for me.”

“Oh, we’re hoping for a serenade?” Brian concluded as your expression turned bashful. Kissing your temples, he laughed lightly. “There was an ulterior motive all along huh?”

“Hey! My boyfriend is a talented singer and musician. Can you blame me for wanting to have a special moment to myself?”

“We better get a move on then. The rest of the guys will turn up in just a little over an hour. I’ll let you see what you want to before it gets more chaotic, how does that sound?”

Clinging onto his arm with your other hand, you nodded eagerly as you bit your bottom lip. “Today’s going to be the best!”

Once at the studio, Brian felt shy. He had directed you to the couch against the wall, discarding his bag down beside you. And then he walked over to his bass setup, slinging the guitar strap over his head and plucked mindlessly at the strings on the instrument. Brian glanced at your expression, chuckling awkwardly a moment later.

“What should I do?”

“Pretend I’m not here and just warm up like usual,” you suggested and Brian rolled his eyes.

“How can I with you staring that intently at me?”

“Should I look away?”

He shook his head. “No, no, I can do it.”

“Of course you can, Mr. Musician,” you breathed and Brian grinned, nodding at your nickname. He looked down at his instrument and then took a seat in the chair in his area, running through some easy exercises to warm up his fingers. Boldness came forth with your encouragement and he started to play one of the songs that he had penned whilst thinking of you when you weren’t dating yet. You leaned forward when he started to sing, hanging off the edge of the seat by the end of his performance.

You clapped gleefully. “I knew I was missing out when I never came here.”

“Do you think so?” he mused and then took off his bass and stood up, coming over to your side. You reached for his lips softly and then looked back over at the other instruments. Brian caught your gaze and fuelled on by your positive reaction, he pointed to Wonpil’s keyboard. “I can play every instrument in here.”

“Can you?” you asked in amazement, your eyes round with your building anticipation. “Could you show me?”

“Sure!” Brian enthused, kissing your cheek before moving to the keyboard and turning it on. You got up from your seat to approach the area, watching on and ready for the next performance. Brian successfully played the bridge to one of their earlier songs on the keyboard. Then he moved to Jae’s guitar and attempted to pull off some of the most iconic sounds his friend had made whilst on stage lately, making you grin excitedly. He played a round of acoustic guitar and sung your favourite Day6 song and then sat down on the stool behind the drums.

“No way!” you cried, watching as Brian spun the drumsticks around his fingers. “Don’t tell me you can play the drums too.”

Shooting you a smug look, he then began to play, focusing on keeping the right rhythm before winking at you. You giggled and Brian felt content with his attempt to show off in front of you.

Once again, he was surprised with the regret he felt from not bringing you here earlier. Today had gone all too smoothly.

“Wahey, what’s this now?” a voice called and Jae came in through the studio’s front door, followed by the rest of Day6. Brian stopped banging on the drums and stood up. His older friend looked at you and grinned. “A private showing?”

“Brian was just showing me how he can play everything in here.”

“Ahhh,” Sungjin hummed before smirking. “He was being a show off.”

“I was just doing a little,” Brian piped up, chuckling sheepishly.

Wonpil moved towards his keyboard and flicked it back on, his fingers effortlessly playing a melody. You gasped and the man grinned. “I guess we should put on a show for Y/N since she’s here.”

Before Brian could object, you had dashed forward with Wonpil’s suggestion, nodding eagerly. “Would you?! I love how you play piano, Wonpil.”

His friend blushed and looked shyly at you before launching into one of their ballads. By this time, Jae had grabbed his guitar and starting to play an intricate piece overtop of Wonpil’s music. It fitted with the melody still and your jaw dropped, mesmerised when he started to hum incoherent lyrics along with the music. Sungjin picked up next, actually singing out a chorus to one of their songs and that prompted Dowoon to launch into playing the drums, the four members all performing with ease. Brian glanced between his friends and the evident adoration now upon your face, unable to stop the annoyance rising within him.

Had they purposely just upstaged him after all his efforts? He could hear their slight mistakes as a trained musician but looking in your direction showed you were none the wiser, just enjoying the performance. What was worse was he just stood there, not joining in and it sounded fine without him and his bass.

All his satisfaction from before had evaporated, and he began to feel foolish for showing off when the true masters of their instruments were here doing their thing. He had always felt like an equal partner in creating music with his friends. But right now, he was immature in his reaction.

Jae seemed to notice first, ceasing his guitar with a screech and looked in his direction. “Bro, where is your head at? We need you!”

“No, it sounds good without me,” he called over the top of Dowoon’s drumming and Sungjin held his hands up in sign to stop the music. The leader then turned to Brian and gave him a pointed look. Glancing back at you again watching on curiously, Brian sighed, picking up his bass and smiled forcibly. “Well, if you insist.”

“Should we practice now?” Sungjin asked and everyone nodded. You smiled and quietly slipped back over to the couch, picking up your phone and dropping your focus to it. Brian closed his eyes momentarily to clear his mind and then on Dowoon’s count, waited for his turn to play.

This practice session had not been his best in a long time. Brian had moments where he had captured a good sound and looked to see if you were watching, only to turn dejected at finding you staring at your phone. And then, when he was making mistakes, you were attentive, shooting him commiserating smiles whenever he caught your eye. After two hours, Jae announced he had a date and Sungjin followed along quickly to see if his girlfriend was finished with work. You said your goodbyes to the remaining two members of Day6 as they stepped out of the studio and waited for Brian to pack up his equipment.

When he was ready to go, you held out your hand towards him. He sighed and took it, though he couldn’t stop brooding over how everything had gone today.

“Brian,” you said and he flicked his gaze towards yours as you walked down the hallway of the building together. “You’re really cute, you know?”

“What?”

Chewing on your lip as you suppressed a grin, you stopped, tugging your boyfriend to face you. “You’re ridiculously adorable when frustrated.”

“You… you picked up on it?”

“I’ve been dating you for some time now and was your friend longer than that. I’m pretty sure I can tell when you’re bothered by now.”

Pouting softly, Brian nodded. “I wanted today to go better.”

“Better? But it was amazing!”

“I know it was for you,” he pointed out a little bitterly, picking back up his step and walking with you towards the elevator. “But it wasn’t for me.”

“Why?”

“It sounds childish,” he pre-warned and you grinned, as if you expected it. Brian whined and you giggled at his annoyance. “Y/N, don’t!”

“I knew it! You felt upstaged.”

Brian gaped at your suspicions and then pouted again, scrunching up his face in the process. “Was I that obvious?”

“Just a little,” you mused with another giggle. Once inside the elevator, you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled in. Brian sighed, holding you close even if he felt his frustrations still bubbling over. The doors sprung open to the ground floor but you moved just in time to hit the top floor, sending you both back upstairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Healing you,” you mumbled from back within the embrace and Brian frowned. Looking up at him, you grinned. “Your feelings are hurt and I don’t want you to leave here tonight feeling like that.”

“I just wanted to show my good side to you,” he muttered and you reached a hand up for his face, shaking your head at his statement.

“Do you know how many girls would swoon at having someone as amazing as you in their lives? You’re dedicated to all that you do, you’re ridiculously handsome, sing like the Gods blessed you themselves and can do so much as a musician. Not to mention all the times you’ve come to my aide to help me with any issue I have. You can even look good changing a light bulb, Brian. I’ve seen it firsthand. Must you be good at everything?”

“You know that’s not true,” he replied with a look in your direction but you tapped his nose and grumbled at him.

“It is too. The problem isn’t that they showed how good they were, Brian. It was that you don’t want to show me anything to make me like you any less. However, that’s bound to happen. We all have flaws and we all have bad days. I’m certain I’m not always enticing you to love me.”

“Love?” he echoed and you laughed.

“Is that all you heard from me right now?!”

“Well, no, I heard all the rest but-”

“Yes, Brian. I’m falling in love with you. So you need to relax. I’m going to be at your side, even if you have a bad day. And I’m not going to love your friends more just because Jae sings really-”

“Babe, I get it,” he intervened as the elevator door sprung open and Brian smiled. “I think I’m good to go back down to the ground level now.”

“Had enough of your heart soaring as the floors went up?” you teased and he laughed, leaning over to hit the button to go down before pulling you in close again. Staring at your lips, he shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure by the time we get back down there my heart rate will have skyrocketed.”

And as he kissed you passionately to prove his point, Brian relaxed. He hadn’t realised how high his expectations had become in trying to make everything between you both always good. Your reassurance did more than enough to remind him that he was only human. Knowing you would embrace him, even with all his flaws was enough for him to forget all about how he was feeling in the studio just before.

Well, almost.

When you stepped out of the building, Brian looked at you and swallowed. “So, you’re not saying Jae sings better than me right?”

“Well, I wonder if when Jae’s girlfriend says she loves him that he tells he loves her back immediately or not?” you responded with a shrug of your shoulders and Brian groaned.

“Couldn’t you tell from all those kisses just now?! I’m falling in love you too, Y/N!”

You laughed heartily and wrapped your arms around his waist as you walked along the sidewalk. “You can’t hold the number one spot in every situation, Brian.”

“Wait, so you’re saying his voice-”

“Sungjin’s is my favourite,” you announced proudly and then darted away from his side, squealing when he chased after you.

Brian caught you easily and reeled you back to his chest, panting to catch his breath. And then he nodded. “Okay, you’re right I can’t top the list in everything. As long as I have you though, I know that’s enough for me.”

_________________

Next: Wonpil

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#kwritersworldnet #young k fiction #young k fanfic #young k fluff #young k au #young k imagines #young k scenarios #young k #day6 #day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 au #pwyl; band sessions #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff

[missbrunettebarbie]

Yo hello i’ve got you for the secret santa :)).

Completely agree with you the magic laws are hard to keep track of. I never watched the last part of season 8, so i have not seen any content of henry or coop and by the way you’re describing it i am not missing out, so Wahey

anyways i rlly like the idea of the 4 of them meeting without the power of four, do you have scenarios in mind for how and when it could happen, if you’re going a canon divergence route that is

also if you've read any charmed fics and got recs feel free to throw them @ me

Hello, my dear Santa xDD

I personally don't bother to keep track of magic laws in series that spin 5+ seasons like Charmed so I would never ask anyone else to do the same. And yeah, don't watch s8. It is a waste of time.

I haven't actually thought about a particular scenario. I guess the easiest way would be for the other sisters to save Paige from a demon or something and discover she's a witch too? Since I imagine Paige having powers in this AU too, but I just don't like the concept of Power of Four. I much prefer the Power of Three to stay the same since it would bring friction between Paigw and the others. I can imagine how devastating it would be to find your bio family only to find out your half-sisters have a magical bond you are not a part of AND your bio mom gave you up in order to protect said magical bond. In my vision this AU would be full of Paige angst, but also a good character study for her.

But just to be clear, if you aren't inspired by this, I am more than willing to read anything you want to write as long as you don't include my dislikes. But since I've...ahem, not been laconic about them, I am not worried about it :D

Sadly now I can't think of any Charmed fic recs :(

#answer #charmed secret santa #my thoughts #anonymous

[dorminchu]

WIPs [James Bond, Pokémon Lost Silver]

Wahey! Here are two mostly brand new scenes below the cut, just to prove I'm not dead! Note: Please view the post on the main page for correct formatting.

INSULT TO INJURY CHAPTER I: A THOUSAND DETAILS [REVISED]

Graduation from Oxford was a quick, unemotional affair. Madeleine had no extended family to invite—no one else of import, besides her short-term friends. The matter of her attendance was something to be addressed and then forgotten about. It was a little tragic. She tried not to let this show on her face when she had to make her commencement speech.

The ceremony went along as expected. Things were not as interesting when she could pretend her life was just as safe and boring as anyone else’s. As she was wrapping up an individual figure in the stands, no more remarkable than any other, caught her attention. It was an older man, perhaps in his early fifties, hidden partially behind sunglasses and a smart dress-hat. With a nauseating thrill she recognized his hat as well as his smile, the angles in his face a little more pronounced. To Madeleine it was like he was sneering. She did not let this discovery rattle her. If she hesitated it was on account of the crowd and her nerves and nothing else.

But when she was done, succeeded at the podium, she could only think: How long has he been standing there? Why didn’t I notice? They did not speak to one another, as it would surely draw unwanted attention. Not that it mattered. His presence was enough of an affront; why give him further opportunity to wound her pride by acknowledging him outright?

“I’m sorry,” she’d said to her roommate, “I’m really not feeling well. Just take me home.”

Even then, when she was perfectly alone, the memory of him took up residence where physical space would not permit. She tried to dredge up some residual emotions for the man who less so resembled a father and more an anonymous pen pal in recent years. Perhaps it was best for his pride if she continued to avoid him, rather than put him in a situation that would force him to admit his own daughter's indifference.

Her cotenants would be out for a while, glad to be around other normal people who didn’t skirt around crowded rooms, casing the doors and windows. Most of them, by now, thought Madeleine to be frigid, or else exceedingly studious. They’d given up a long time ago trying to invite her along on group dates—it was a losing proposition. She did not drink anything. She didn’t talk unless someone initiated and then she was perfectly reasonable. She would quietly, scrupulously vet what was offered. The other women were under the delusion that she was trying to compete with them, and the men were usually uncomfortable being scrutinised without a lick of pretence. Madeleine found it a little funny, but she was the only one.

So she didn’t mind being left behind. Most of the time. She looked around the room. It had served its purpose during her enrolment. Now it seemed intolerably small, like a holding cell. She had never thought about it this way before. Suddenly she wanted to be anywhere else.

At times such as these, she almost wished she hadn’t decided to go straight-edge—then, maybe, they would keep some alcohol in the flat. She had no friends she could call on without inviting scrutiny. The only other comparable colleague was Arnaud, a fellow Sociology major in her year. She found him tolerable enough to engage in polite conversation, though she did not want to give him or anyone else the wrong idea.

Or, hell, why not? She could use a drink.

⁂

Three years to that day, they were still talking. Well, her colleagues at Oxford would have likely referred to them as friends-with-benefits with a healthy measure of condescension—but this was misleading. It would imply some level of emotional investment. For Madeleine, he was a means of insurance. Whenever he turned up dead or missing, she’d know it was time to move on. Now, Madeleine was not completely heartless. She had taken Arnaud’s advice and transferred over to the 8th arrondissement, with the understanding that they would be rooming together. And Arnaud was easy to get along with and she could afford him the same courtesy. She had someone to come home to and he knew enough about her work ethic from their college years, and her demeanour, to not ask where she had been. She knew enough surface-level information about him that she could still keep up appearances with his friends, as well as her own colleagues at the office—to be discarded, once he outlived his purpose. The clinic was within walking distance from the flat. Open to the general public, rather than more exclusive clientele, but that suited her fine. Each day bled into the next and the seasons changed in rote, predictable manner. She’d go to bed and wake up thinking: Maybe today will be it. They’ll come to collect me. But it had been three years. The lack of apparent danger soon directed her thoughts towards various methods of escape. Usually, Madeleine found solace in identifying the root of other peoples' troubles; a faulty marriage brought on by substance abuse, or more permanent debts that could not be repaid so easily. Most were less extreme and involved simple conversations that were, in Madeleine’s view, no more impactful than the change in weather. She kept no photographs. She had a work computer that stayed in the office. She stuck to using burner phones. She did not discuss her life before Oxford or the Sorbonne with anyone. The only décor was a pot of faux flowers from an elder client; for her falsified birthday, of course. There was even a little hand-written note. The longer the pot stayed on her desk, the more disingenuous Madeleine felt. She'd investigated it a few times when she was alone, looking for wires, but never could prove her suspicions. She got rid of it anyway, just to be safe. The client never brought this up again but Madeleine could souse the hurt in her eyes the next time they met.

LOST SILVER: HIDDEN

Part of the wall had a give to it like rotting flesh. It caught on his fingers, porous and thin. Momentarily freed from the push of the unown Gold threw his body into the weak spot.

It didn’t stick to his skin but tore as like wet paper. Clean break.

Falling forwards into an empty void. Crashing on all-fours. The unown were gone. Ground had no texture but simply existed beneath him, impossibly smooth and cold. There was no light from the tunnel behind him. All the sound fell away from his ears. He felt himself screaming just to hear something but could only feel the physical strain in his lungs and throat. Unown frequency reached him through tinny speakers—overridden by static. He put his hands to his ears. It did not stop. He could feel the blood pounding in his head. Suddenly the tiny screen lit up. His hands caught on plastic. He clutched it desperately, staring into the harsh, inexplicable light of the LCD screen. A voice broke through static:

“Where do you think you are?”

Gold froze. He—

—falling forward again. Jerked out of time and space as though by an ally’s Teleport—familiar loss of footing followed by an abrupt solidity beneath his knees. Shock giving way to nausea. The last time he’d teleported anywhere was at the behest of the old guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and his abra, back at Indigo Plateau. He doubled over. His chest felt tight. He began dry-heaving, desperate for air—the serrated, raw feeling in his throat and chest told him he’d been screaming.

Dry, dusty earth beneath his fingers was baked over. The fresh air he drew into his lungs tasted warm. It was dusk. A thin layer of perspiration on his face and his palms. His stomach settled gradually into queasiness. He didn’t remember teleporting or what he had been doing before his arrival. He couldn’t recall why he was here, either.

“Hey, kid. Finally awake?”

Gold blinked. He straightened himself out and tried not to look as shaken up as he felt. The man in a lab coat and glasses looked down at him impatiently.

“We’ve been waiting for the last hour.”

Gold had no idea how to respond. His legs were shaky. He held up a hand to wave off any attempts at sympathy. “Teleport,” he got out hoarsely.

The man scoffed. “I don’t need an apology. I’ve got all the notes on my desk about what to expect down there. Nothing a tough guy like you can’t handle. We’ll be inside whenever you’re ready.”

The aide was nicer. “Gold, right? Prof. Oak’s told me about you.” She looked around his age, maybe a couple years younger. Her hair was dyed an intense shade of blue and pulled into twin ponytails. She was dressed for the season—just a pair of bright yellow athletic shorts and sleeveless red shirt, white jacket. Her body was toned—Gold had the fleeting thought that she could have been his twin, but her accent struck him as native to Kanto. She had her own POKéGEAR, too; clipped neatly on her bag, rather than on her wrist.

“Oh, uh—has he?”

“Only good stuff, don’t worry.” She extended a hand. “You can call me Kris. That other guy is Mr. Ito.”

They shook. Her gloveless hand was warm and soft, which surprised him. Gold noticed her belt—two standard pokéballs, a moon ball and a lure ball respectively. “You’re a trainer, too?”

“I’m more of a researcher. Lately I’ve been working on the Unown Mode feature of the POKéDEX. We’ll have to set yours up first, before you go down there.” She reached out towards the ‘DEX at his hip, suddenly very businesslike. Gold hesitated. She smirked. “What? I’m not gonna screw it up, I’ve done this enough times by now.”

“I never said—”

Kris inclined her head without waiting for an excuse. With a sigh, Gold handed over the POKéDEX. Kris walked over to the nearby desk. She clicked on a lamp and studied the screen for a few seconds. She whistled. “Wow! They weren’t kidding. Two-hundred and fifty on—” Mr. Ito clicked his tongue and she scowled “—yeah, okay.” She toggled through the settings with an air of aggression that suggested this was not the first time she’d been reprimanded. Gold’s amusement was undercut by the hope she didn’t break any of the buttons. Then again, he knew from firsthand experience that it could take a lot of punishment. “You’re pretty handy with that.”

#wip #lost silver #james bond #trainer gold #trainer kris #madeleine swann #mr white #for like a second #original characters #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #slight tone dissonance

[peachchocobo]

I really wonder if I’ll ever write again. As in seriously write. I finished my novel three years ago (or is it four?) and the whole publication process was scary and made my anxiety flare up like no tomorrow. I wasn’t ready at all, and so it tanked. And honestly looking back on it now and reviewing the writing, it really... it wasn’t super great either. I suppose it’s normal to see where you can improve years later, but a part of me is glad no one really purchased my book when it got publicized. Apparently people still find my book online if they search for my full name (which is cringy enough oh my god) but I made sure it can’t be bought anymore. I have my hardcopy but, that’s it. 

I’m proud of the fact that I finished it. I mean, it was three years worth of work, about 104.000 words. It was a journey. And everyone was really convinced that I’d finally found my ‘job’ if you will (including me), that I’d be writing to make a living because wahey, I finally published my first book!

I literally haven’t written since. I stopped altogether. And I mean, I have the urge every now and again, I really do. My imagination is still as wild as ever, and by the Gods if I hear a good instrumental track, it’ll take me seconds to come up with a scenario to fit. But I really wonder if I’ll ever try and do this whole shindig again. Actually sit down and write out plot details, develop characters. It’s weird, for something that I consider to be pretty much part of my being, it’s not really present in my every day life anymore. 

#aida talks #idk who i'm talking to #probably just myself tbh kinda getting it out there sjdhsjds #it's really weird to go from 24/7 to never again #i think my anxiety will ultimately keep me from doing it again #i'm just not made for the part that comes after #i can write stories sure #but getting them out there??? determining pricing??? #marketing??? #god no

[mothermaidenclone-blog]

Spider-Man: Homecoming or Don’t You Always Hear Harps When You See A Girl?

I don’t think I actually saw any women in the four billion trailers for Spider-Man: Homecoming that were in the cinema, so I went into this one with the bar set very, very low. I did, however, know that Aunt May would feature because of the whole internet losing their minds over the thought of a middle aged woman existing on screen.

*Spider-Man: Homecoming spoilers follow*

So let’s start with Aunt May (Marisa Tomei). Peter Parker (Tom Holland) has been reduced to his canonical high-school age, so it only makes sense that Aunt May should drop a decade or so too. However, this brings her out of the venerable status of being “old” and puts her somewhere in the middle of the ageing process itself. Mainstream cinema is obviously comfortable with portraying women as youthful, and has reserved the honour of showcasing those who have reached “old age” to basically a trifecta of Judi Dench, Helen Mirren and Maggie Smith. You can be middle aged in a film, Gweneth Paltrow makes a brief appearance as Pepper Pots and she’s forty four at the time of writing, but god forbid you actually look it. Marisa Tomei is fifty two, and in my opinion is a very beautiful woman, but because she looks something over twenty five it seems that the only way that anyone can deal with it is to fetishise her as some sort of, and I really hate to use the term, MILF. The first reference to Aunt May is Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr) saying, “What’s she wearing? Something skimpy I hope.” That pretty much sets the tone for how she is interacted with and observed for the rest of the film, which is a shame because she is shown to be a caring, understanding and supportive guardian with a sense of humour, despite all the tragedy that her and Peter have endured as a family.

How male characters deal with female characters seems to be the main problem with this film, as the women themselves are fantastic. Liz (Laura Harrier) is smart, capable, headstrong and independent and Michelle (Zendaya) is blessed with an excellently dry, nihilistic sense of humour and indifference to the opinion of others that is so rarely afforded to teenage girls in film. Other girls are very much present, around the school and in the quiz team, and are played by a diverse range of actresses. It was particularly refreshing to see no white, blond love interests, or even male best friends or rivals. So what do the boys in this film do when confronted with these amazing girls? Say that they should “probably stop staring before it gets creepy” while actual fucking harp music plays in the background. At one point Peter is actually secretly looking down at Liz in her swimming costume through a literal glass ceiling. It couldn’t get much more on the nose where the gaze is concerned. Annoyingly, despite the aforementioned list of both of these girls’ excellent character traits, both Liz and Michelle become visibly, and somewhat inexplicably, flustered by Peter at some point in the film.

Outside of girls at school, the other two female characters who make a memorable appearance are Anne-Marie Hoag (Tyne Daly) - who I don’t think is actually named, I had to look her up - and Karen (Jennifer Connelly). The former appears at the beginning of the film as an older lady in a position of business control, which got my hopes up, but she is immediately portrayed as a baddie because she is taking honest jobs away from good, hard-working men. The latter is the AI in Peter’s suit, which he names (and almost very creepily named after his crush) and who takes on a strange kind of wingman role (literally and figuratively, wahey). It’s almost as though Peter is so uncomfortable talking to real girls that he has to use a semi-sentient “female” computer program for advice instead.

Overall I was pleasantly surprised by the number of women that featured in this film and how strong their personalities were. However, all of the men seemed to react to them like penis-controlled pubescent teenagers, regardless of whether they were actually boys or grown men. I know part of this was the comedy of showing Peter as a realistically awkward teenage boy, it’s the charm of Spider-Man that he’s not a ripped, charismatic, fully-developed man, he’s a geeky, smart teenager and that’s a great role model. I just want to throw it out there though, if we normalise the portrayal of strong, funny, smart young women, maybe boys won’t lose their minds when they discover that’s what girls are like.

And now for some asides:

It was good to hear Spider-Man making jokes again, I’ve missed that.

They didn’t even mention Uncle Ben! Hallelujah!

Michael Keaton’s life and career as so many Bat/Birdmen is now the most meta thing ever.

#spider-man #spiderman #spider-man homecoming #film review #movie review #spider-man spoilers #spoilers #feminism #sci-fi #science fiction #mcu #marvel #superhero #super hero #mothermaidenclone #cw: language