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libraryofgage · 5 months

Text

Addams Family B-Side (1)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell (on the way!)

This is part of a series of unrelated works entitled "Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually" and I think that title is fairly self-explanatory. If there are any other couples you think would be good parents for our Stevie boy, let me know and I'll take them into consideration!

Anyway, the B-Side thing is because this is like taking my Addams Family Steddie au and just flipping the cassette tape hfjsdk

This time, it's Steve that's the Addams and Eddie that's normal!

Anyway, blame @whatthemeepever for this one specifically cuz it's gonna spiral into a wild ride actually, so let's all pray for Eddie in advance

If you'd like a tag for any future parts, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

-------

The moment Steve is born, his father sticks a light bulb in his mouth. When it glows, he jumps with joy and throws Steve into the air. The moment Steve's mother realizes what's happening, she slaps his father upside the head, throws the light bulb at him, and threatens to blow him up again if he sticks anymore into Steve's mouth before he starts teething.

She follows through on the promise exactly two weeks later, and Steve's parents (one smug and the other notably singed but delighted) rebuild their house next door to his father's brother.

Steve's mother chooses his first and last name (Harrington, a reference to some long-lost family friend or other), and his father is reluctantly given the freedom to choose his middle name. In the end, he is dubbed Steve Faustus Harrington, a name his mother is so surprised to find acceptable that she kisses his father as a reward.

And so begins Steve's life.

------

"I can't believe you got expelled," Steve's mother seethes, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turn white. "Again!"

Steve crosses his arms, sinking lower in his seat as he glares out the window. "It's not my fault they were shitty friends. They got what they deserved."

He hears his mother laugh, the sound strained and indignant and very quickly followed by his father turning to look at Steve from the passenger seat. His sunken eyes are filled with suppressed delight as he asks, "What did they do this time?"

A few seconds pass before Steve sighs. "They said they couldn't go out later because they had to study for finals. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? Finals are three weeks away, and they can't spare one weekend for the funeral museum?" he says, scoffing as he looks at his father, grins, and adds, "So, I brought the funeral museum to them, coffins and cremations and all."

His father's eyes light up, sheer joy and pride dancing in them. And for the very first time in Steve's life, his mother pulls over to the side of the road and parks the car.

"Pumpkin?" his father asks.

"Fester," she says, her voice low and somewhere in the range of upset, "do you remember when I tried to kill your entire family?"

"Of course. It was a splendid attempt."

She nods and looks at him with a tiny, somewhat pained smile. Then she turns and sets her gaze on Steve. "Darling, what kind of grades do your friends have?" she asks. "Because if you're anything like me, and I know you are, you tend to befriend people who are significantly dumber than you."

Steve blinks, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, most of them were about to fail," he admits.

"Then, isn't it possible they really were studying for finals? Especially if they were close to failing at a school where passing is a requirement of attendance? Perhaps you could have suggested going to the...funeral museum after finals?"

A few seconds pass as Steve considers her words, a crushing sense of realization and guilt dropping on his shoulders and traveling to the pit of his stomach. It makes him feel nauseous, and he stares down at his lap. "I fucked up," he finally says, voice quiet and apologetic.

"Of course not!" Fester says, reaching out and ruffling Steve's hair despite the affronted noise from Debbie, "Your plan was beautifully conceived and masterfully executed. Perhaps you should just talk a little more before pulling out the urns next time."

"Incredibly, your father is right," Debbie says, looking pleasantly surprised before turning her gaze to Steve. She sighs and holds out a hand, squeezing Steve's when he takes it. "Don't get so blinded by a beautiful pair of shoes that you completely miss the sale two aisles over, Steve. At the very least, do a little more research before resorting to torture and murder. Personally, I'm very tired of calling the family's lawyer."

Steve snorts at the utter lie. Debbie loves calling the family's lawyer. She does so regularly just to double-check the state of Fester's stocks and bonds and deeds and general worth. "Okay," he says, nodding once, "I'll remember for the next school."

"You know," Fester says, looking at Debbie hopefully, "Pubert is a senior this year. Maybe Steve could go to high school with him."

Debbie hesitates, frowning slightly before saying, "Yes, but it's...public school."

"The best Gomez and Morticia could find! It was highly recommended by Margaret, and Pubert can make sure Steve adjusts and makes friends."

Steve can see the moment his mother agrees. She sighs, lets go of his hand, and fixes her already perfect bob. "Well, I suppose," she says before looking at Steve once more. "And you, Steve? Would you like to try...public school for your junior year?"

"Sure, might be fun," Steve says, thinking about all the movies he's seen that display public high schools as a zoo and the worst place on Earth. It sounds great, and if the place is still standing while Pubert attends, it must be somewhat entertaining.

------

"You've got everything you'll need?"

Steve looks up from lacing his shoes and smiles at his mother, earning a nervous grin in return. Her blonde hair is uncharacteristically frazzled, and Steve feels warm and fuzzy (like a mold growing over his heart) at knowing she's so worried as to appear less-than-perfect in front of him.

"Yes, I've got everything," he says, gesturing to the backpack on the stairs next to him. In addition to notebooks and his pencil case, Steve has also packed a travel mace, a miniature bomb (alarm clock detonator stored separately, of course), a tiny bottle of tequila, and his lucky lightbulb (just in case).

His mother nods once, takes a deep breath, and then turns her head toward the kitchen to shout, "FESTER!"

Something crashes, a cat (they don't have a cat) yowls, and Steve's father slides into the doorway. "Yes, Pumpkin?" he asks, eyes bright and happy and utterly stuck on Debbie.

"Is Steve's lunch ready? You made something normal, right?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Fester glances at Steve, a brief look shared between them that's both sympathetic and endeared toward Debbie. "Of course," Fester says, disappearing for two seconds before striding over to the stairs with a pink lunch box decorated with black skulls (Steve chose the color, Fester chose the pattern, and Debbie gave them her stamp of approval). "A turkey sandwich, fruit, cookies, and juice."

"Fruit?" Debbie asks, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Apple slices!"

After a few seconds, Debbie nods, and Fester gives the lunch box to Steve, shifting some so Debbie doesn't see the conspiratorial wink that tells him the juice is definitely poisoned. Steve grins and shoves the lunch box into his bag. He finishes lacing his shoes and stands, holding his arms out so his mother can inspect him.

"You've done a wonderful job pairing your shirt and shoes," Debbie says, walking around Steve with an air of pride and approval. She rubs the sleeve of his pastel yellow sweater between her thumb and forefinger, nodding once. "The plum pants are a bold choice, but it pays off. And, as always, your hair is flawless, dear."

Steve grins, letting his arms fall to his side. "I tried that new mousse you gave me," he says, fingers twitching as he fights the urge to run them through his hair. "It works great."

His mother smiles even wider and kisses his cheek, pulling out a handkerchief and carefully wiping away the lipstick residue she leaves behind. "I knew it would," she says, inspecting Steve's face once more before nodding with approval.

"Pumpkin, it's time for Steve to go. Pubert is waiting."

Debbie huffs softly and gives Steve one last once over before nodding and hurrying him toward the door. "Have a good day at school, try not to blow anything up, and call me if Pubert tries to cut off your head with a rusty knife again," she says.

"What if it's a clean knife?"

"Well, that's fine. Grandmama will just sew it back on."

Steve grins and waves to both of his parents before hurrying toward the sidewalk where Pubert is waiting. His hair is parted down the middle and gelled down, his pencil-thin mustache is immaculate as ever, and he's wearing a three-piece suit. When Steve is closer, he pulls out two cigars and offers one.

"This isn't an exploding cigar again, right? I'm wearing a new shirt," Steve says, taking it and looking it over.

"Nah, that joke only works once," Pubert says, dragging a match against his palm to light it. He holds it to his cigar first, puffs a few times, and then does the same for Steve. "How long till you get expelled again, you think?"

Steve shrugs as he takes a puff from the cigar, letting the smoke linger for a moment before skillfully blowing it out in perfect circles as they walk. "I haven't been to a public school before," he says, tapping the cigar over the sidewalk, "so, hopefully, at least a year."

"Public school is fun," Pubert says, getting a wicked grin as he looks at Steve. "You can get away with a lot."

"And the other kids?"

"Well, they've certainly got a lot to learn. I mean, most of them can't even handle a little cyanide."

Steve scrunches his nose and takes another puff of his cigar. After a few seconds he asks, "Will we have any classes together?"

"You're a year below me, so maybe an elective or two. What did you sign up for?"

"I signed up for, uh, shop class, forensic science, and Gothic literature."

"We'll have Gothic lit together," Pubert says, flashing a smile before asking, "And you know what shop class is, right?"

Steve blinks, suddenly a little hesitant. "Is it not, like, something about shopping?"

"No. It's building things. With wood, usually."

"Oh! So, I can build anything?"

"I guess. I haven't taken it."

"Well, I'll find out. Maybe I can build Dad a catapult or guillotine or something."

As they get closer to the school, more students fill the sidewalks, but Steve notices that most of them seem to give him and Pubert a wide berth. They also stare, looking at Steve like he's some kind of puzzle to be solved, with more than a few flashing sympathetic smiles like he's trapped and can't get away. "You're popular," Steve notes, taking one last puff of his cigar before dropping it into a trash can.

"I would fucking hope so," Pubert says, finishing off his cigar and tossing it into the next trash can they pass. "I didn't flood the place with roaches and vermin to not be known."

Steve grins, listening as Pubert regales him with the tale only to cut it short when they get inside the school and pass the front office. "I need to get my schedule, but Mom said she made sure we'd have lunch together," Steve says.

Pubert waves him off. "Yeah, I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Have fun, cousin," he replies, mockingly saluting him before heading off down the main hall.

-----

Steve's first class of the day was AP Calculus, followed by AP Physics, Wood Shop, and AP U.S. History. When it's finally time for lunch, he surveys the cafeteria for a few seconds before finding a table in a dark corner that everyone seems to avoid. By the time he gets there, Pubert has sat down with a tray from the lunch line.

Steve sets his backpack on the table, sits down, and says, "For a place that's so lifeless, it's not even fun."

"Yeah, it's like that," Pubert agrees, poking some unidentifiable mush on his tray with a spork before spooning some into his mouth.

It's with a somewhat jealous expression that Steve pulls out his lunch box and removes a thermos of poisoned juice. "Is it bad?" he asks, nodding to the tray.

"Utterly repulsive."

Steve sighs and takes a sip from the thermos before pulling out everything else in his lunch box. "They made me wear safety goggles in shop. Safety goggles! It's like they don't know how fun splinters in the eyes are. And everyone is soooo scared of the saws, it's ridiculous," he complains, taking an angry bite of his sandwich.

"What about your other classes?"

"Physics would be better with more practical examples. I mean, who cares about apples when we could learn if a body falls faster than a cannonball?"

"From experience, no," Pubert says, "Anyway, you gonna join any clubs?"

"Maybe the swim team? If I'm lucky, I'll drown," Steve says, perking up a little at the thought.

"Best of luck with that," Pubert replies, stealing Steve's thermos to take a sip of his juice. When he places it back, he offers Steve a sporkful of the mush.

Steve lights up and happily tries it, wondering how something can be so perfectly undercooked and overcooked at the same time. "Impressive," he says, passing the spork back. "Is that freezer burn?"

Before Pubert can answer, a bang from the other side of the cafeteria cuts off all other sounds. Steve glances over to see a boy in heavy combat boots climbing onto his table with a mischievous grin. He's wearing a shirt with a devil head on it and "Hellfire Club" emblazoned above and a vest with spikes, pins, and patches. His hair is just below his shoulders and a little curly, and Steve can see from here the wild glint in his eyes as he stomps down the table while talking.

"I'm tired of the double standards of this lame school. If you're into science or band or some other 'uncool' interest, the administration couldn't give two shits! Oh, the choir room needs new risers so the current ones don't break any necks? Well, that's too bad, we've got to give the football team new monogrammed towels for the locker room!" the guy says, grinning when a group of kids to the side shouts their agreement. "And never mind that our Robotics team has won the school three trophies when the basketball team so valiantly scraped into third place last year for being kinda good at throwing balls into laundry baskets."

"Prick!"

Steve glances at the guy who shouted, taking in his letterman jacket before quickly dismissing him. He looks back in time to see the boy on the table sticking out his tongue and holding his hands to his temples to make horns. There's an even wilder look in his eyes now, a sheer glee at causing a scene and getting under someone's skin.

Steve doesn't realize he's smiling until the boy scoffs, shouts one more line about the school's unfair preference for "mediocre jocks," and hops off the table. He looks over at Pubert and asks, "Who was that?"

Pubert glances at Steve, studying him for a moment before swallowing another mouthful of mush and saying, "Eddie Munson. He does that once a week, usually."

"Eddie Munson," Steve murmurs, glancing over at Eddie's table again and smiling a little wider.

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #that'll be the tag for this one lol #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #debbie jellinsky #fester addams #pubert addams #steve deserves good parents actually

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lianaisabsent · 11 months

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BSD men when their s/o gets jealous

A/n: might be a little different from exactly canon reactions but technically it includes my hcs so..

CHARACTERS: dazai, chuuya, atsushi

Dazai:

with dazai it's like you're confused and amused more than jealous.

He flirts to get information, it works greatly is what's more annoying to you.

This one time you both were set up on a mission and not even two seconds in and he flirted with the prime suspect and deemed her "incapable of doing murder"

When asked why he responded “I would frame her too, she's too afraid and cowardly and she's lacking financially so her motive would've been perfect to kill.. however, the way she trembles and speaks and responds is a way no killer would be able to.. She could be an actress but her hands are of those of the abused. Meaning she was purposely planted to distract us.. That's something I would do if I was the killer" (plot holes in this but I'm not a detective so excuse me if I get any thing wrong)

You were just gawking the whole time over how much he analyzed from touching the ladies hand and speaking to her softly and sweetly.. It was a mask yes but still it made you jealous.. Not like you were to admit that.

He might have.. He definitely noticed it. Dazai wanted to tease you over it but you were in a professional setting although nothing about dazai can be called professional at times.. Most times..

Bro would tease you so much so so much

You both were on a mission together, a mission to investigate a murder in an art museum. You inspected the places, found some clues and when you came back you saw your boyfriend speaking, no flirting with the staff members.

You knew it's for work, but it still makes you feel a twisting feeling in your stomach. You're not much of a doubting and possessive person with him but it's still annoying how good he is at this a natural some might even say.

You just inhaled and exhaled before rolling your eyes and walking towards someone else for their statements on what happened. They all have roughly the same statement “he was a kind man, a kind man the manager was, the manager was a nice kind man he didn't deserve this” almost led you to think this was some sort of mystery novels cassette tape on repeat.

A few minutes pass by and you feel someone hugging you from behind, you flinched and pushed the person away, person being dazai who was very wounded (dramatic is a better word) “my love! How could you!? First you get jealous and glare at the staff member and when I came to comfort you like the amazing partner I am, you pushed me!”

You could only sigh at his theatrics, 'how is he not an actor?' you thought. “don't bother dazai I know it was for work..” you sighed looking through the information you gathered. He did tease you but he ultimately didn't really know how to respond to that. As he's told you before he cant really respond with that exact emotions you want. He tried though.

“well.. I only 'flirt' for work but ultimately who do I go home to and for? You” it did make you internally embarrassed because he just said that loudly in a silent hall with people.

Chuuya:

He isn't a flirt, his thing is more of actions speak louder then words but he does get flirted with. He doesn't respond to it but it does annoy you a little.

he isn't going to say much just “oh okay-wait what”

I think he'd be dense when it comes to recognizing jealousy, he'd just think everything is fine unless you directly tell him it's not

“chuuya, I'm jealous” “of what? My charm?”

How did you even end up with him..

One time, at a café when you were both off of your work and getting something to drink while you caught up for the week a woman came up asking for your boyfriends number.

He was about to say something before he saw a book in her hand, he did mention he'd been reading a few books recently and that you should check them out if you have time but you didn't have time. You were regretting it now for sure.

“oh you like that book?” “yes!” “oh what was-....” their words were no longer being heard by you when all you did was stare down at your drink counting till when she would leave him. But to your disappointment it was like chuuya forgot who he came to the date with. After what felt like 30 minutes she smiled and left with his number as you glared at him and picked up the butter knife.

You stared at him and he only smiled at you in return, it wasn't intentional you could see it but it annoyed you so much “so you just give away your number to random people huh?” you asked earning a confused look from him, “what do you mean darling?” “you know what I mean, the girl the book ring a bell for you yet Einstein?” he nodded before pausing “oh wait what? You were jealous!?”

He, instead of sitting across came to your side and sat beside you lightly hugging you “sorry if it made you jealous I was just kind of happy because we had similar interests is all, you're the one I'll take to dinner and you're the one who I'll plan to spend my life with along with wine”

It made you smile.

Atsushi:

He is more dense.. He's oblivious, he doesn't even know you were jealous.. Why were you jealous? That's his thought

We all know atsushi has a thing for saving people but people do tend to over think interactions. You have witnessed multiple times where people who atsushi saved tried flirting with him. As your oblivious partner just kept being dense.

“jealous?? You? YOU WERE JEALOUS?!”

He's confused, he doesn't understand

You knew atsushi saved a girl from the guild and you knew she was his friend (?) if you could call it that because from what kyouka told you she just seemed like a shy girl who hates social interactions.. That was until you visited the café yourself and saw her upset seeing you. Had you done something to wrong her? No, you hadn't ever met the red head.

“um atsu.. Is your upset with me?” you asked to which you received a shake of his head and a small "no"

As you say down she came and threw the menu in front of atsushi and placed it carefully to you.. You were shocked to say the least. She the started bantering and you noticed a blush and thought 'oh. She likes him..' it wasn't until after she left that you felt an annoying twist in your stomach and a voice saying that they've known each other for longer then you and him have been together but you choose to ignore it.

Lucy, he told you was her name, came back with the orders placing it and when he called you 'love' which wasn't often unless he noticed something off about you that her eyes almost bulged out “YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!?” she shouted at him not that loudly to disturb everyone but still nearby customers did hear it. Atsushi nodded “oh yes, I thought I told you last time me and kyouka came” they started bantering again.

You felt jealous and annoyed, she seemed sweet.. But jealousy just made you feel angry and annoyed at her. After your café trip you walked out of the café not waiting for him to catch up. He grabbed your wrist asking what's wrong and you could only sigh "jealousy, I'm jealous, you've known her for longer then our relationship and she even could have feelings for you!” you said to which his response was shutting down literally he tried to process what you just said..

"you're jealous? JEALOUS??” he was shocked and in comparison to his obliviousness you only kissed him. It made him redder then red paint could even get. He was confused as to why you were jealous but he reassured you that he only likes you and lucy is a good person and friend of his.

#dazai fluff #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #dazai osamu #bsd season 4 #chuuya fluff #chuuya bsd

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bow-n-scales · 2 months

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oddly specific things that remind me of the children of the gods <3

children of ares: the click of a lighter, getting clothing caught on doorknobs and furniture edges, layered necklaces, beat up combat boots, brutal honesty, raucous laughter, chipped mugs, calloused hands, adrenaline rushes, tough exterior soft interior, meticulously polished armour and weapons

children of athena: grandfather clocks’ chimes, olive martinis, secret rooms behind bookshelves, “reading is sexy” tshirts, deserted museums, paper cuts, tea stains, intricately carved sword hilts, golden war helms, calculative gazes

children of apollo: whiskey-coloured eyes, chrysanthemum tea, badges/pins EVERYWHERE, dandelion fields, sandcastles, colourful bracelets, knowledge of music theory, perfect pitch, fireflies, band-aids with smiley faces, tie-dye shirts

children of artemis: metallic clothing, ripped jeans, dagger strapped to inside of thigh, gazing at the constellations, lumberjack plaid shirts, running barefoot underneath the moon, long braided hair (eg. katniss everdeen), sharp eyeliner and even sharper gazes, white platinum/silver jewellery, temporary tattoos, cd collection

children of hephaestus: worn-out headphones, crooked grins, cassette tapes, fireworks, drawers overflowing with tools, LEGO sets, neon signs, mismatched gears, bandaged thumbs (accidents happen sometimes & that’s okay), volcanic-like fury, being up-to-date with all technology-related news

children of iris: stained glass windows, skittles, bracelet beads, marshmallows, kaleidoscopes, cotton candy at carnivals, misty weather, coins at the bottom of fountains, bright eyeshadow, rainbow garlands, fogged-up windows with tiny drawings

children of aphrodite: polished sea glass, vintage avon perfume bottles, decorated handwritten letters, overflowing closets, femme fatale energy, sofia coppola archive, wild rose bushes, lipstick stains, eclectic decorations, chainmail armour, ever-changing fashion styles

children of hypnos: lavender spray bottles, fluffy slippers, liminal dreams, ticking clocks, stretching after a good nap, valais blacknose sheep, the smell of fresh linen, pillows that are cold on both sides, sleeping through thunderstorms, oil lanterns, customised sleep masks

children of nike: golden laurels, confident smirks, unending courage and determination, gold medallions, glorious ballrooms, the stinging feeling of disappointment after losing something, wars over uno, polished trophies and medals, an obsession with Nike sportswear, track and field competitions, feathered capes

children of hebe: tea sets, skincare routines, pansies, overflowing chalices, healed inner child, satin gowns, doe eyes, ribbons braided into hair, champagne towers, bubble guns, butterfly emblems

⋆˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ requests are open!!

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endlingmusings · 2 years

Audio

The song of the now-extinct dusky seaside sparrow.

Taken from the audio cassette tape “Sounds of Florida’s Birds (1998)” by J.W. Hardy, curator emeritus in ornithology and bioacoustics at the Florida Museum of Natural History. [ x ]

#Dusky seaside sparrow #Bird #EX #Audio #Live specimen #Upload #Wild

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utilitycaster · 2 months

Note

you got me. i binged all of midst in two days and it was great, but now i dont have a lot of other podcasts to listen to. do you have other good fiction podcasts you like?

DO I. I am not the Most Podcast Person I know but I definitely follow a lot because I drive a lot and walk a lot and put them on in the background while I do chores. Also, I'm sticking to scripted/plotted fiction here and not actual play but I can provide some actual play podcast recs too, though none are terribly obscure.

Wolf 359 is a completed podcast but a great binge. It also is science fiction and deals with capitalism and corruption and complicated characters and weird space stuff; it regularly makes the "great fiction podcasts" to check out and I think is closest to Midst in that it's also a tightly plotted work that goes to a natural end point.

I frequently talk about and recommend the Silt Verses and the thematic nature is remarkably close to Midst, but the vibe is very different. It has a lot of folk and body horror elements (audio-only, but they are absolutely present). Also covers the "man what if capitalism and religion were working explicitly in tandem" element of Midst with the added dimension of "what if there were many many gods and and they all demanded literal, physical sacrifices". Sister Carpenter is cut from a similar cloth as Lark and I love her dearly. To draw other comparisons would be to spoil it. It's on season 3, which will be its last. It is extremely intense in that when I fell behind I found it tough to binge without taking breaks, but it's really fucking good. (I also recommend this to people who like Candela Obscura, though that's more for eldritch horror vibes).

The Penumbra Podcast is great because it has two separate storylines (it was originally intended to be an anthology, but people fell in love with Juno Steel specifically). I like both, but Juno Steel is the more popular one - it's set in the future, in our solar system but in space, and follows Juno Steel, a private eye. It's extremely weird neo-noir. There is a homme fatale and a fantastic cast of characters, and it's also an interesting ongoing plot. The Second Citadel is more fantasy rather than sf though it's also kind of in that general New Weird bucket and is even harder to describe but I think it's underrated. It's also on its final season but it's been going on a while so it will take a bit for you to catch up.

Within the Wires is also a podcast I've recommended in the past. It's by the people who do Welcome to Nightvale which isn't listed here both because I assume you are aware of it, and because that's an ongoing slice of life sort of thing; there are plots but there's sort of that sitcom-esque "nothing really changes the status quo" element though the earlier era had some more structured stuff. Anyway, Within the Wires is found audio, so each season is different - the first is relaxation cassette tapes, the second museum audio guides, the third voice memos, etc. There are callbacks/connections between seasons at times, and I would recommend listening to at least the first two seasons in full (which are very strong) to get a sense of the world before hopping around later. The reason I recommend it here is because the worldbuilding is spectacularly done in a way that reminds me of the elegance of the worldbuilding in Midst, and because it's found audio, while it's one narrator per season you will get those weird asides and interesting tonal choices.

Tentative rec for Camlann, a roughly modern day post-apocalyptic take on Arthurian legends and the folklore of the British Isles only because it just started and has 3 episodes. I like it, but I don't know what plot it's building to (nor how long it will be; they have funding for one season but aren't sure about future ones.)

#answered #Anonymous

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darklcy · 1 year

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𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

[ prompt of course given by: @xstreetsx | comforting her through the depression of going through something traumatic ]

‣ spotify link. | the last of us masterlist.

‣ ellie williams x f! reader | The Last of Us | 986 words | mentions of depression, character death, tlou II spoilers

‣ it's a rainy, sleepy day today. comfort with ellie sounds good about now

All she knew was red.

Warm, thick pellets of red, dripping and seeping into the crevices of her skin. Her eyes. Her nose. Her mouth. All until she couldn’t breathe. The oxygen filtering into her lungs paused, suffocating her insides until a burst of heat rushed up towards her brain. Was she alive, or an essence of imagination?

The woman raised her armed hand again. And again. And again. And again. His face wasn’t the one she loved anymore. Where were his eyes? His nose? The smirk he adorned when she corrected him on a space fact? His beard, where’s his beard? Where is he?

The scream that ripped her apart splattered into the wooden beams that built the house she was trapped in. She screamed until she couldn’t process the pain of her vocal cords splitting. She screamed until her vision wavered, flashing lights of black and white blinding her pupils. She screamed until she couldn’t anymore, until her body finally weakened and let her rest.

Three days of bliss. For three days, she was gone to the world, tucked away in the safety of her dreams. Falling victim to her subconscious that tricked her sleeping brain with illustrations that Joel was still alive, strumming his guitar while she listened. Her dreams brought her back to her favorite birthday, the one where Joel had actually gifted her with a dinosaur. A rotting science museum, with a whole world of dino fossils towering strong and powerful as ever. She listened to that damn space cassette tape in the space pod, reliving the remarkable day humans went to the moon, one small step for man right in her eardrums.

Joel did that. Not Dina. Not Tommy. Joel. Her dad, her savior, her family.

..And he was gone the moment her heart reawakened.

The realization shot her like a brass bullet puncturing organs. She bled, bled, and bled. His gravestone mocked her where she stood. His name. ‘Joel Miller,’ embedded in stone, decorated with bouquets of sorrow. The knot in her brow furrowed deeper. These people didn’t know him like she did. Not a single soul here knew the bitter hell she and Joel went through to be alive. Even this gravestone, piece of trash. How dare a piece of stone represent the remarkable man Joel was with just a statement. Neither it or Jackson would grasp the intensity of a person that was Joel Miller. Except for her.

..Yet she couldn’t tear herself away from it. The damn stone held a grip on her like a mouse trap. She even spoke to it, telling the cement how much she missed it, and that the days had been getting harder, instead of easier. Fuck anyone who utters that shit.

She found it annoying how much she wept over the stone. It was her regular self now. Without tears, there was no Ellie Williams. Morning, afternoon, and evening. She wept for the man that made her feel safe, that gave her a home, that loved her. She’d never been so afraid before in her life.

But maybe…the days do get easier. Because somehow, in the path of grief, she found you in the middle.

A friend of hers since the day she arrived in Jackson. A friend throughout the triumphs, the pain, the hell. Ellie never let her guard down, but to you, she’d make an exception. That’s the kind of person you were. Sweet and care some, almost like home.

She’d shut out anyone left in her life since that day. Your lips frowned each time you passed by her house, the cold wind heightening from the mixture of agony and loss Ellie manifested into her world. You longed to see her, to give her some form of reassurance that she wasn’t alone, that you were here, but… maybe now’s not the time.

Or maybe it was. Maybe she needed you just as much as you needed to see her. You could confirm that with the sobs that seeped through the cracks in the wooden door, her voice aching with weighted torment. She’d been alone for too long. You should’ve came sooner, but you ignored any regretful thoughts as you knocked on the door.

“..Ellie..? Can I come in?”

She couldn’t care about anyone else. She didn’t, and she never will again. Go away.

You knocked again. “Please, Ellie?”

“Go away.”

You wouldn’t be pushed away anymore. Twisting the knob, you found her curled on the frozen floor, shoulders quaking under her tears. Gently closing the door, you crouched down to her level carefully, leisurely placing your hand on hers. Her skin was freezing compared to your warm fingers, but she continued to ignore you. It was as if you didn’t exist in this gruesome world of hers.

“Ellie. It’s me, I’m here.”

“No..N-No, you’re not. Go away.”

You’d just have to enter her world yourself. Lowering your body to the ground, your cheek pressed against the harsh cold, your hand wrapped itself around hers. Knees bumping together, foreheads barely grazing, you stared into her eyelids tightly pressed together, tears dribbling down her cheek.

“You’re not alone anymore, Ellie.”

Her nose sniffled, yet she remained quiet.

“I..I know you miss him. But, you don’t have to be by yourself through this…Okay? D-Dina, and I, and everyone else. We love you so much.”

Your own words bit you back just as hard, threatening tears of your own to escape you. But when Ellie finally, finally, reopened her eyes to meet yours, your tears became worth it. Your lips upturned in a smile; I’m here.

Breaking apart her hand from yours, she laid her cooled palm against the crevice of your jaw, thumb rubbing the skin gently. You reciprocated the action, allowing her to bring you even closer. Your foreheads bumped together, her eyes closing now in solidarity. You were here, now. Here, with her. And you always will be.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

#ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us x reader #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams x reader comfort #ellie williams x reader angst #angst #tlou angst #tlou x reader comfort #tlou x reader angst

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black-arcana · 2 months

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HALESTORM's LZZY HALE Likes To Be Open And Welcoming With Her Fans: 'I'd Rather Live My Life That Way'

In a new interview with The Break Down With Nath & Johnny, HALESTORM frontwoman Lzzy Hale was asked if she ever meets fans in the street who don't really know what to do or say to her because they are outside of the world they know her in. She responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "Sometimes, yeah. I always tell people and I'll just say this on the record here as well, always come up and say hi. The last time we were in Australia, I did that, and there were pictures that showed up of — somebody was taking pictures of me eating a burger, which was totally fine. There are way worse pictures of me out there. But I'm, like, 'Oh, you could have just totally said hello.' And I usually have some pics on me and stuff. I'll give you some party favors. But, yeah, sometimes it gets a little awkward, because it's, like, 'Well, we're just going to lunch. Do you want to come with? No? Okay.' What do we do now? [Laughs] But sometimes it's really great because you meet some random people and then you end up having a few beers or something and then talking about stuff and then, like, 'Oh, by the way, there's this museum down here.' I'm, like, 'Oh, let's go and do that.' So, just depending on everyone's comfort level. Go for it. We're all in this together."

Lzzy went on to say that she is generally very welcoming and open with her fans. "I'd rather live my life that way," she explained. "I mean, there's a darker side to that where I've gotten death threats and weird people showing up at [our] house [in Nashville], even though we bought our house in a trust name, so somebody found something and things like that. But that's the grand minority, and I like to believe that people are inherently good, mostly, especially if you like rock music, I feel like there's no real reason to be [laughs], to be weird. But at the same time, that does exist. But, yeah, I'd rather err on the side of, like, 'Let's hang out.' If you get weird, we won't hang out. [Laughs] Just don't be creepy. It's fine. [Laughs]"

HALESTORM recently took part in at least one writing and recording session for the band's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album with acclaimed Grammy-winning producer Dave Cobb, known for his previous collaborations with the likes of Sammy Hagar, Slash, GRETA VAN FLEET and RIVAL SONS.

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

Lzzy and her brother Arejay (drums) formed HALESTORM in 1998 while in middle school. Guitarist Joe Hottinger joined the group in 2003, followed by bassist Josh Smith in 2004.

Last May, HALESTORM teamed up with country singer Ashley McBryde for a reimagined version of the band's song "Terrible Things", which was originally featured on "Back From The Dead".

In December 2022, HALESTORM released a deluxe edition of "Back From The Dead". "Back From The Dead: Deluxe Edition" includes seven previously unreleased B-sides, including "Mine", a 1980s-inspired rocker. "Back From The Dead: Deluxe Edition" is available digitally, on CD, and cassette tape, marking the first time that the album has been offered in those physical formats.

youtube

#lzzy hale #halestorm #interview #Youtube

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visceravalentines · 2 years

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My first attempt at a House of Wax fic! Writing so many characters in one scene was tricky so I hope I did alright.

I Only Have Eyes for You (And You, and You)

Following the events of the movie (except for the ending obviously), the Sinclairs could use some love. Maybe a little music. Maybe some dancing. Poly!Sinclairs x GN!Reader.

Rating: Teen/SFW

Length: 1.1k

CW: reference to previous murder and waxification

Reader POV

It has been a long week in Ambrose.

Lester rounded up a whole slew of college kids, and they had given you all a run for your money. They managed to fuck up the routine through and through, injuring Bo, even drawing Vincent out of the workshop to help wrangle them.

For the first time, you actively participated in the killing, taking down one of the final survivors with two decent shots just before they crushed Bo’s skull with a baseball bat. The pride in the eldest Sinclair’s eyes was just enough to counterbalance the roiling emotions you felt at taking your first human life.

They wreaked enough havoc to create weeks’ worth of necessary repairs to the town and its residents. You helped haul the broken figures carefully from their resting places in the theatre and museum to the warmth of Vincent’s workshop. You stood next to Bo as he assessed the structural damage to a few of the storefronts and muttered curses under his breath. You helped Lester retrieve the kids’ vehicles and camping gear and accounted for every last one of their cell phones.

It was exhausting work. Not only was Ambrose in shambles, but your boys were devastated by the level of destruction to their home. You knew Bo went to the church every morning to whisper apologies over his mama. You caught Lester sniffling quietly to himself as he swept up broken glass in the street. And Vincent – more than once, you came into the workshop and found him staring at a damaged canvas, his tools limp in his hands, and you had known enough artists in your life to recognize the helplessness he felt at facing a project he did not feel confident enough to complete. Even Jonesy was out of sorts, barking at nothing, wandering restless.

So Friday night finds you all in the house, deep in your respective thoughts. Bo sprawls on the couch, Vincent slumped forward beside him. Lester and Jonesy are upstairs. And you stand in the kitchen, overwhelmed by their collective needs, feeling inadequate in your capacity to pull them out of what you feared might become a lengthy depression.

Sighing, you lean against the counter, looking around for something to clean, something to fix, something small that required no energy because you had so little left. And your eyes fall on the cassette player in the corner. It is dusted with toast crumbs but you know that it works, and there is a drawer of tapes underneath it.

You pull it open and skim the titles for something you know. Most of the artists are unfamiliar to you, but one catches your eye. You fiddle with the machine for a minute, slide the tape in, press play. Frank Sinatra’s “I Only Have Eyes for You” fuzzes to life. You adjust the volume and catch the eye of the twins through the interior window. Vincent has lifted his face out of his hands and Bo cocks one skeptical eyebrow.

My love must be a kind of blind love, I can’t see anyone but you….

With a tired smile, you walk to them slowly, extend both hands, one for each of them. “Come here,” you say. Vincent lets himself be pulled up immediately. Bo takes your hand but does not move.

“That’s my bad arm, darlin’,” he says.

“Well then give me your other one.”

He lets out a single chuckle and allows you and Vinny to help him to his feet. You lead them both to the kitchen, shouting up the stairs on the way, “Les! Get down here!”

Bo separates himself from you and leans against the fridge, wincing as he flexes his injured arm. You place Vincent’s hands on your hips and slide your hands beneath his hair, clasping your fingers behind his neck. You can see in his eye he is bewildered as you sway gently to the music.

“Come on, Vinny. Dance with me.”

He looks down at his feet, shuffles them uncertainly. You know he has a grace belied by his many layers of clothing and the way he always seems to hunch over, you’ve just got to bring it out of him. You beam up at him, exaggerate your movements, coax him into motion. The way he gazes at you, it’s like he’s never seen anything quite like you before, like if he looks away you may just disappear forever.

Are the stars out tonight? I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright, ‘cause I only have eyes for you, dear….

“What in the hell is goin’ on in here?” Lester says as he leans through the doorway. “Frank Sinatra?”

“You bet your ass it’s Frank Sinatra,” you say. You dance on your tiptoes, reach up and brush a kiss against Vinny’s waxen cheek before letting him go. “C’mere Les, you’re next.”

You take his hands, tug him into the kitchen, pull his arms back and forth. The weariness gives way to a hesitant smile and then a toothy grin. He is shy, but he has the same dexterity as his brothers, and he falls into rhythm with you quickly. You spin him under your arm and his resulting laugh is throaty and genuine. He spins you in turn, you spin him again, then you grab Vincent’s hand and give him a whirl, barely able to reach over his head.

I don’t know if we’re in a garden, or on a crowded avenue….

Your gaze settles on Bo and you catch the whisper of a smile on his lips. The worry lines in his brow are permanent fixtures. He does not know how to be unguarded. He meets your eyes, doesn’t move, waits to be invited.

You send Lester off with one last twirl and square up in front of the oldest Sinclair. “C’mon Bo. I know you know how to dance.”

He shrugs. “’Fraid this wall might come down if I’m not here to hold it up.”

Shaking your head, you move closer, loop your fingers through his beltloops. “Guess you’ll have to build it back up then.”

This earns you the flash of a grin. “Alright, darlin’, if you insist.”

He gingerly places his left hand on your waist and you cup your hand under his elbow for extra support. Your other hand is almost lost in his, rough and warm. You let him take the lead, as if he would give you a choice, and you are unsurprised that he is a wonderful dancer.

Maybe millions of people go by, but they all disappear from view….

You feel Bo press his lips to your hairline. So quietly you almost miss it, you hear him murmur the last few words of the verse:

And I only have eyes for you.

The kitchen is a warm and safe place that night.

#please let me know what you think!#i have sinclair brain rot but writing for them pushes me out of my comfort zone in a lotta ways so feedback is appreciated #my writing #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfic #slasher fanfiction #sinclairs x reader

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normal-bias · 5 months

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Cassette Tape • Sony • CHF 60

#cassette collection #cassette tape #cassette #tape #cassette tape museum #vintage #blank cassette tape #blank tape #cassette museum #blank cassette #sony #CHF60

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knee-stockings · 1 year

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So I’ve been listening to lots of podcasts at work lately to break up the monotony of my office job. Mainly they’re horror, suspense/thriller, drama, that kind of thing. Trying to give ratings without spoilers~

(Check out updated pod recs here)

The Left Right Game (a journalist investigating an urban legend that gets increasingly more dangerous as they go): 5/5, this being one of the first ones I listened to set the bar really high tbh, it was great, immersive sound design, genuinely suspenseful and creepy moments, interesting plot, my only gripe is that I didn’t love the ending but I couldn’t dock a star just for that, highly recommend, maybe I’ll retire to Wintry Bay someday

Alice Isn’t Dead (delivery trucker goes searching for her believed dead wife, comes across supernatural towns and creatures and a conspiracy that goes way deeper than one missing woman): 5/5, so so good, enjoyed a lot, I loved learning the truth about the Thistle men, still don’t completely understand oracles but that’s okay, some delightfully creepy moments, this will be high on my recommendation list (also it’s by the Welcome to Night Vale people, which I actually haven’t listened to lmao)

Harley Quinn and the Joker: Sound Mind (it’s a Harley Quinn origin story basically): 5/5, very enjoyable, sound design great, plot was fun, I don’t know how accurate this story is to the original Harley Quinn origin story but I liked this a lot

The Burned Photo (two women try to fight a familial curse haunting their bloodlines): 4/5, not bad at all, I thought the sound design was great and immersive but I thought the monster’s voice was a bit goofy idk, the plot wasn’t bad though ofc it was pretty bittersweet and sad in the end, tho I think it was never going to be happy for everyone involved

Blackwood (group of teens investigate the town urban legend and uncover more than they bargained for): I can’t decide…3.5 maybe? It was okay. I didn’t love it or hate it, I’m pretty neutral about it. It was interesting enough

Gaslight (girl goes missing and then reappears to her best friend years later with little explanation): 3/5, feels like there should be another season, wasn’t as dramatic/suspenseful as I thought it would be (maybe that’s my own fault tho, from the description and stuff I thought there would be more to it)

Ice-Cream (teens suspect the friendly neighborhood ice cream man of abducting little kids and uncover a dark secret): 4.5/5, interesting and a lil creepy, there’s something oddly funny about hearing someone scream “fuck you Beelzebub” even in context, sound design is pretty good and voice acting is great, finale was also pretty good but I’m docking half a star bc of that very last bit and bc I said so, overall short n’ sweet, no pun intendo (I’m kinda glad that it’s only the one season and not super long, gives the feeling of not overstaying its welcome. Also in awe that they made it within like a month, gonna go listen to their other podcast Cascadia too)

Cascadia (submarine expedition to uncharted waters, gone wrong, we almost died!?): 5/5, by the Ice-Cream people so I expected great sound design and voice acting and said expectations were met tbh, yes god love the drama, ocean depths are inherently scary to me so this is top tier horror, season one was chef’s kiss beautiful and I heard season 2 is coming so I’ll be waiting eagerly for that

Listening now:

Within the Wires (season 1 is relaxation cassette tapes from another world, season 2 is a guided museum tour I think): also by the WTNV people, interesting so far, the plot that unfolded in the first season was cool to watch as it played out, but also I am so sad. I like it so far

Rabbits (girl goes searching for her friend who disappeared because of this mysterious Rabbits game): feels like a really slow start after a few episodes, I kinda wanna get to more action soon please

Wake of Corrosion (apocalypse where characters are trying to find other survivors and also answers): mild shrug, not sure what to make of it just yet. Only like 2 episodes in so I think I need to give it a bit

Ars Paradoxica (scientist accidentally invents time travel and is thrown back to the 1940s): pretty interesting so far, science is fun

Spoiler comment for Cascadia under the cut bc it's the one I just finished and I have Thoughts

As much as I enjoyed Cascadia, when I think about the expedition for more than 2 seconds I get confused. Not the whole alien thing, that’s fine, it’s Badger and Maria and their ulterior motives. Why in the world did Badger spend millions of dollars to make a submarine that’s faulty on purpose? And there was so much media coverage around it so the second something went wrong reporters were practically beating him over the head with microphones, so why risk so much bad press? Plus sacrificing three other talented divers who trusted him with their lives??? That’s the most confusing to me. There’s no way Badger foresaw them getting attacked underwater and losing Declan alone, so he must have been fully prepared to lose captain AND crew. Holden said that he saw Badger as a father, and yet he chose Holden to die? He said he handpicked them, so what did Holden, Alia, or Iris ever do to him to deserve being sent on a suicide mission? Doing all this just to get rid of Declan and be with Maria doesn’t feel right. Feels like there should be something more there. Tldr: surely Badger had another reason for conducting the suicide mission, right? Also since season 2 starts with Lila all grown up, a diver just like her father, I wanna know her opinions of her mother and of Badger. Did she learn about her mother’s betrayal? Is Badger still involved in funding deep sea diving or did the FBI take him out of that? Omg who’s the father of her little sibling…I’m so curious…

#ignore me #mimi reviews #the left right game #alice isn't dead #harley quinn and the joker sound mind #the burned photo #blackwood #gaslight #ice-cream #cascadia #within the wires #rabbits #wake of corrosion #ars paradoxica #i can't believe i had the patience to tag all these...

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thispatternismine · 13 hours

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Look at what I picked up in a charity shop today!!

It's a Sony CFS-W301L, late 80s (funnily enough I guessed 1987-ish & some googling of the model number tells me Radio Museum agrees with me & I was able to find the manual which also suggests I'm correct so, like, yes!)

It only cost me £5!

Look at these beautiful tactile buttons!

It's a bit scraped on the front, but eh whatever if I decide I fancy listening to a long or medium wave station, I can still figure out tuning the radio even without being able to see the frequencies properly

They say they tested the tape player working in the shop, but I don't have any tapes atm, so I'll have to get some. Considering it needed a bit of cleaning externally, the tape heads will probably need cleaning, so I'll see if I can get a cleaning cassette as well

Bonus photo: Old Sony & new Sony

#music #life stuff

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ddrmuseum · 1 year

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Computersicherheit geht uns alle an. Deshalb wurde 1988 in den USA der Computersicherheitstag ins Leben gerufen. Zu Zeiten des Kleincomputers KC 85 war das noch anders. Wir zeigen euch vier Magnetbandkassetten mit Software für die Kleincomputer KC compact und KC 85. Den Kleincomputer KC 85/3 seht ihr in unserer Objektdatenbank und heute auf unserer Facebook-Seite. Computer security concerns us all. That's why Computer Security Day was launched in the USA in 1988. Things were different in the days of the KC 85 small computer. We show you four magnetic tape cassettes with software for the small computers KC compact and KC 85. You can see the small computer KC 85/3 in our object database and today on our Facebook page. #ddrmuseum #ddr #gdr #museum #ddrgeschichte #computer #vintagecomputer #geschichte — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/lvjND9C

#Instagram #IFTTT

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tiefthieves · 22 days

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Tattered Soles Chapter One: After the Rain

You can also read chapter one on Ao3 ! Full chapter is below the cut ♡

Since she could remember, Sikah’s life had always revolved around dance. When her mother was alive, she ran a small, yet successfully competitive dance studio. Elturel, as it was called, was her mother’s pride and joy— besides her daughters of course. Sikah would accompany her mom to the studio when she taught. She would watch in wonder-filled awe as her mother elegantly choreographed routines in their living room, and she remembered waiting in the stage wings next to her father and sister with a bouquet at competitions. As she grew up, Sikah herself began to dance under the guidance of her mother, and she loved every second of it. When she was dancing she felt strong, empowered, and alive.

Rain drummed rhythmically against the windowpanes of the empty, two-bedroom apartment. Sikah remembered her roommate mentioning some sort of plan with a coworker after their workday ended, which left her alone to her own devices. She had the week off due to renovations in one of the museum’s exhibits, so she had more free time than she’d known to care for. Deciding she had nothing better to do, Sikah grabbed her car keys and an umbrella, then made her way downtown.

The dance studio’s parking lot was barren on the dreary, mid-week afternoon. Classes weren’t to start until later that evening, but Sikah doubted many students would show up due to the weather. As she approached the large glass doors, she noticed only one person inside behind the front desk. Not wanting to cause a disturbance, Sikah pulled the studio keys out of her pocket and unlocked the front door, waving to Jenevelle as she left her umbrella by the doorframe. She made her way to the small practice room at the back of the studio. The room had become some semblance of an office for her; along the back wall, several costume books, class rosters, and old CDs lay strewn across the floor. In typical studio fashion, one of the walls was lined with large, floor-length mirrors; the remaining three half paned in oak wood with ballet bars of varying heights lining them. The hardware of the studio was a bit dated, especially in the lesser occupied spaces, with old stereos fitted for cassettes and CDs embedded in the room’s far corner. Sikah had since replaced and rewired the speakers to modernize the sound, but she held onto the old command center to play her mother’s cassettes.

After removing her sneakers and wrapping her feet, she sat in the middle of the floor to pull on a pair of compression socks before she withdrew her worn practice shoes from her bag. Sikah tightened the laces and stood, moving up and down on her toes to alleviate extra pressure.

A low rumble of thunder prompted her to go and fish a tape from the drawer beneath the audio hub and feed it into the player. Sikah idly tapped her foot as she waited for the soothing, pre-music static to tickle the speakers. Once it began, she started to perform an old routine, one that she couldn’t allow herself to forget.

Her sister followed soon after with natural talent and grace that turned heads. Fotiah was incredible in every way. Despite not being able to hear the music herself, her sister was able to bring songs to life with motion and emotion that brought even the toughest men to tears. She quickly became the star pupil of Elturel, dancing in companies composed of dancers much older than she. She was cast as the lead in productions, and she was even recruited by other studios for a place in their ranks. However, Fotiah always refused. You could not pay her to dance for she did not dance for others, she danced for herself.

After their mother passed, the sisters struggled to keep the studio open. Their father had tried convincing the girls to sell the studio, claiming the memories it stood on were too much to bear. Sikah knew there was more to it than that. To sell the studio was to put their mother fully to rest, to end that chapter of their lives and begin writing anew. Without the studio to remind their father of his late wife, he could swallow the pain and move on. The girls were adamant in keeping the studio, but their father was stubborn.

He remarried, and in the end, Fotiah urged Sikah to let matters rest. If they didn’t compromise with their father, they would lose the studio completely. Elturel was signed into new ownership, despite Sikah’s protests, to their father’s second wife.

Trielle was… fine. She was nice, she didn’t overstep and pretend to be someone that she wasn’t, and she didn’t pretend to be their mother. She did, however, bring change to the studio, expanding to multiple locations and franchising their competitions, seeking high-paying sponsors and luxurious venues to perform elaborate productions. As the studio continued to grow in both size and popularity, so did watchful eyes. More prospective students meant more instructors were needed, and thus Sikah put a pause on her endeavors to assist with instruction. However, Fotiah, ever the star, the poster girl of Meropi’s Elturel, taught few classes and maintained the practice of her craft. Sikah was responsible for choreographing and executing routines for both competitions and performances, which oftentimes made dancing feel more like a responsibility and a chore rather than the respite it once was.

Thus, Sikah found herself valuing otiose days like this. Days she had to herself when she could ignore her responsibilities and fall back on old joys. When she danced, she escaped to another realm. One with no pain, no annoyances, no obligations. She hoped that was where her mother was now, dancing alone on a cloud in the sky without a care in the world. She hoped her mother would occasionally look down, smile upon her, and be proud of the work she’d done.

As she allowed herself to get lost in thought, Sikah was soon interrupted by the heavy sound of a shoe bag hitting the hallway’s hardwood floor. Gods, she needed to remember that even when the studio seemed desolate, to still close the door. Sikah paused her routine and turned to the noise.

A tall, muscular woman stood awkwardly in the doorway. Despite it being cold and rainy outside, she donned no jacket but wore a muscle tank and a baggy pair of sweats. Her coarse, black, pixie-cut hair was pushed away from her face with a headband; showing off her complexion littered with sun-kissed freckles.

“Shit, my bad! I must have the wrong room. I mean not the wrong room, I’m supposed to be next door. The lady up front told me that the back rooms were up for grabs for solo practice and I heard the music and got curious, plus the door was open. I kinda started watching and then I couldn’t stop and I guess I dropped my stuff, sorry about that.” She sheepishly bent down to pick up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with a smile. “Lady at the front also told me you had the key to unlock the room across the hall. You looked really into your routine and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” Sikah walked over to the audio player and paused the track, grabbing her carabiner of keys from where they lay beside it. She twirled them around her finger as she brushed past the woman in the doorway and strode across the hall, motioning for her to follow.

“I haven’t seen you at the studio before, and by the looks of it you aren’t here for classes,” Sikah pondered aloud as she unlocked the door. “New in town or something?”

“Erm, kinda? I grew up in the area and moved back a few months ago,” the mystery woman answered as she followed the other into the now unlocked room.

“If you know the Ravengards, Wyll’s the one who recommended I check this place out for a practice space; said he and his girlfriend dance here.”

“Yeah, I know Wyll. I’m surprised he didn’t text me to let me know he had a friend coming to check out the place, he’s usually good about that.” Sikah took a mental note to text her sister’s boyfriend about this later.

“Ah, well I wasn’t planning on coming by today, but I was passing on my way home from the doctor’s and I figured why not? I can come back if now isn't prime time; didn’t know the owner was gonna be here or I would have at least made myself decent.” She absentmindedly shifted her weight between the balls of her feet.

“The name’s Karlach, by the way. Probably should have introduced myself first.”

The shorter woman, who Karlach assumed was the owner of the studio, shrugged, seemingly unbothered by her lack of manners.

“Owner? No, I’m not. Well, not fully. My step-mum owns the studio, my sister and I keep it afloat. You probably know Fotiah, if you know Wyll.” Sikah spoke freely as she walked around the room to move clutter out of the way.

“And you are?” She asked expectantly.

“Sikah,” she answered as she pushed a box backward into the corner with her foot. “Let me show you how to work the sound system. These two rooms aren’t as up-to-date as the rest of the studio, but you can still plug in your phone for aux.”

Karlach zoned out as Sikah explained the practice room’s equipment and amenities; focusing only on how the woman moved, how she carried herself, and how she stood. She was as beautiful as she danced; with piercing gray-blue eyes and speckled cheeks, her ash blonde hair twisted up in a bun.

“… and if you need anything, just knock on my door okay? I’ll keep my music low,” she came back to reality just as Sikah finished her speech.

“Any questions?”

“Can I have your number?” Karlach spoke before she could think, immediately wishing to bite off her tongue. “You know, for future reference. Just in case I uhh… have trouble with the aux and you’re not here!”

Nice save Karlach.

“Sure?” Sikah raised a slightly suspicious brow.

She took Karlach’s phone in her hands and filled in her contact.

“Anything else?”

“Nope! All good!” Karlach beamed, “Thanks a bunch, Sikah, I appreciate it. I knew Wyll would send me to the right place. Don’t practice too hard in there, alright? I bet you need to be in top form for your performances.”

“Yeah, something like that, thanks,” Sikah feigned a small smile.

“Have a good practice, Karlach.”

4 notes · View notes