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billiedeanhwrd · 3 years

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when i fell you were there, with your hands in the air

cordelia goode x fem!reader

summary: your depression is hitting you harder than most days, cordelia comforts you 🤍

warnings: depression, slight mention of childhood trauma, it's angsty mental health fluff basically

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic and i'm very very nervous about it, so pls don't be too harsh, constructive criticism is very much welcome though!! also i'm sorry about any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. i also have to add that this was very much self indulgent and based on my own experience with depression, so if you don't relate, that's fine, everyone experiences it differently. I hope you enjoy it tho, have fun reading <3

today was one of those days again. one of those days where everything seemed grey and pointless. one of those days where taking a shower was too exhausting. one of those days where it didn't matter if you left your clothes on the floor or a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. one of those days where you isolated yourself. one of those days that seemed to return to you every morning for almost 3 weeks now.

you had been struggling with depression for years now and attending therapy regularly still didn't take away from the embarrassment you felt about your illness. cordelia didn't know, you didn't want to burden her with your subjectively "silly" problems. It wasn't easy hiding something so life consuming from your lover, but whenever you were with her you felt as though you could reach for the stars and there was no point in ruining happy moments with sad stories.

Whenever you felt really depressed and unable to function, you isolated yourself. Cordelia and you had been together for 7 months now and the first time she thought she had done something wrong which had resulted in you needing space from her, but when she confronted you, you reassured her that sometimes you needed some time to yourself because you were a more introverted person. While that might be true, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you into her arms and tell you everything was going to be okay again, but the fear of possibly burdening the already very busy supreme held you back from confessing what was weighing you down.

you were used to this already, you always kept your darkness to yourself, too afraid of being too much or being abandoned by your loved ones, while the rational side of you knew that the people in your life who truly meant something to you would never abandon you because of your chronic depression, anxiety left no room for rationality.

you were always feeling kind of down, but some days it was easier to cope and enjoy your day despite that... and then there were those phases where you felt unusually down, those phases that caused you to isolate yourself and wait for the storm to pass in solitude. They usually lasted only a few days or maximum a week, but this one had been going on for much longer. cordelia was worried, you had never needed so much "alone time to recharge your social battery", but she didn't want to overstep your boundaries and possibly push you away, because what you weren't aware of was that cordelia too struggled with abandonment issues and fearing she would be "too much" (which she could never be for you, you adored every single second you could spend in the blonde witch's presence).

After leaving multiple text messages and trying to call you, only to be greeted by your voicemail, cordelia took it upon herself to see what was going on with you. The knocking on your door would've usually startled you, but you had just ordered a pizza, too tired to prepare a meal yourself and assumed the delivery was faster than they had stated on their website. your jaw fell open and the door was quickly closed again, shit shit shit, what am i supposed to do now? the place looks like a mess, i can't let cordelia se-

"y/n can you open the door please?" she asked in her gentle voice. "Uh, yeah, give me a second" you replied, hastily throwing on a hoodie that had been lying around on your couch, coincidentally that hoodie being one you stole from cordelia a few weeks ago, something that made your girlfriend's heart warm up a little and relieve her of some of the worried thoughts she had that this might be your way of signaling to her that you no longer wished to be in a relationship with her.

"can we talk? i haven't seen you in three weeks and you haven't answered any of my texts... what's going on? you know you can talk to me about anything..."

"uhm, yes, of course. sit down, make yourself at home, would you like anything to drink?"

"no, thank you, i just want to talk to you"

you didn't have the energy to lie to the woman who held your heart in her hands anymore, you were terrified of her reaction, not only to you being mentally ill but also to you hiding it for so long.

"i'm so sorry delia, please don't be mad", you anxiously stuttered out. cordelia grabbed your hand and smiled reassuringly, signaling for you to continue talking.

"I didn't tell you before because i know you've already got so much going on with the academy and i didn't want to pile onto that with my irrelevant issues... I was diagnosed with depression amongst other things a few years ago, it's something i have to deal with every day and some days are easier than others, but sometimes it all comes crashing down on me and i feel like i'm lost in an ocean of a sadness so powerful, i can feel the pain on my body. I know it can be challenging to be close to someone with severe mental issues and I understand if you don't want to continue being with me, i would never want you to stay with me because you pity me or because you're afraid i'd do something to myself if you'd left, you're not responsible for my feelings or actions and i would never want to impose you with such a burden and-"

you stopped rambling when you noticed the tears flowing down cordelia's cheeks.

your eyes widened and your heart started pounding rapidly in your chest. "i'm sorry, was that too much?"

"no, no, no, no, no... it just pains me to know that you've been dealing with this on your own for such a long time because you don't value yourself enough to believe that other people might want to support you through your everyday battles. y/n, i know you, you're the girl who's always there when someone else needs a shoulder to cry on, anytime, anyplace, you always go out of your way to make others feel seen and accepted, why would you ever think that you don't deserve the kindness you so openly give to others?"

now it was you who was crying, cordelia was right, you didn't value yourself enough to believe that. you didn't actively think of yourself as less than others but that thought always unconsciously motivated the way you dealt with the things that were bothering you.

cordelia patted her lap, signaling for you to sit on her lap and come into her arms. you hesitated though, you weren't used to being so vulnerable and open with your emotions and it scared the shit out of you. you feared cordelia was possibly annoyed at you and was only doing this to get it over with and then get out. she watched you, while you were anxiously deciding what your next move would be, her heart broke for you, you looked like a scared baby dear when all she wanted to do was to comfort you.

"baby, look at me"

her chocolate colored eyes were so full of love, simply looking into them managed to get your heart rate down.

"it's okay, i'm not mad at you for talking about your feelings and all i want to do right now is to hug some of your pain away, so please, let me hold you"

you melted at her gentle words and understanding nature, cordelia was an incredibly smart woman, who went through traumatic things herself and even from that little information you shared, she understood you. she saw her younger self in you, so incredibly lonely but oh, so scared of being vulnerable with another person, due to the emotional abuse her mother subjected her to, and while she might not have gone through the same things you did, she felt like she understood your feelings in this exact moment and she wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe with her.

you slowly crawled into her lap, still afraid this was all a trick to hurt you, but when she started combing through your hair and reassuringly whispering "i've got you" and "you're here with me, i promise you, you're safe", you relaxed into her arms.

after about half an hour of laying there with each other, calming down and enjoying the other one's warmth, you spoke up.

"delia?"

"yes, my love?"

"so you're not leaving me?", you hesitantly asked.

cordelia sat up and looked straight in your eyes while asking "would you leave someone you love because they're depressed?"

"no, never"

"then tell me, sweetheart, why would i leave you?"

her response left you speechless, you almost missed her confessing her love. "you love me?"

she hugged you tight and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "more than anything, and please, never worry about telling me about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, no matter what it is, i wanna know, okay?"

you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding and confidently replied "okay"

a few minutes passed before you spoke up again when you remembered you didn't say those 3 special words back.

"i love you too, by the way"

cordelia smiled lovingly and stood up to reach out for your hand and pull you up. "i know, now let's go to bed, we can clean up this place tomorrow"

you accepted her helping hand and engulfed her in a hug. the way she so naturally used the word "we" and didn't seem to mind helping you clean up your mess of an apartment made you more emotional than you'd like to admit.

And while you knew this would not be the last time you were overwhelmed by your depression, you now knew that you could count on the woman who loved you to stand by your side and help you get through even your hardest day.

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #tw depression #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #american horror story #ahs fanfiction #ahs fandom #ahsfx #ahs imagine #cordelia goode imagine #fanfiction

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curious-minx · 3 years

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Bob’s Burgers most reliable holiday provides another lowkey enjoyable, but messy episode. Whereas the latest Simpsons strikes a really sore vocal node.

The second holiday episode of Bob’s Burgers’ 11th season, much like the previous Halloween episode, this one also fails to live up to the series’ even higher Thanksgiving standard

That’s not to say “Diarrhea of a Poopy Kid” is not a good episode, but it does fall into the category of Bob’s Burgers episode I typically respond to the least: Character-based storytelling vignettes. The writing on these segment driven episodes tend to be looser and playful bending the show’s reality, but much like every time the other Fox family leaves the Springfield plane of reality into a pastiche styled playground for the writers to plug the characters into.

The overall animation and visual-based gags on this episode offers some of the best moments of the season and series in general. Having the Belcher stories revolve around action movie pastiches of 90’s action movie schlock like Air Force Once, Armageddon, and late 80’s Predator are extremely punny and really grasping hard for satire. The walk to Louise’s Breadator is succinct and makes total sense for Louise’s character to tell this kind of story, whereas Tina drawing inspiration from Air Force One for her story sags the episode down. This episode also has the gall to bring in Gayle, a character that usually elevates all of her episodes nothing much to do until the third and best segment told by Bob. Teddie is also frustratingly nowhere to be seen and Teddie is one of those characters that really only needs a small scene explaining away his absence like in the episode “Gayle Makin’ Bob Sled,” which Variety and I consider to be among the best of Bob’s Thanksgiving episodes.

Nitpicks and reminiscing on past glories aside, what’s most impressive about an episode as conceptual and overstuffed as this one, an episode that’s also poopy and gross-out from the very beginning, still manages to pack undeniable heart. Seeing a character as relatable and sad sack-y as Bob Belcher be passionate about his one favorite holiday reminds me of the everlasting and evergreen Ray Bradbury remark about how everyone is capable of writing poetry as long as you ask them to talk about something they are truly passionate about. Seeing how this episode climax revolves around Gene and Bob’s love of food and proves a powerful sentimental moment. Bob’s Burgers sentimentality works because the show’s core is silly absurdism, light and fluffy gross out gags and quirky twee-ness. Introducing the action movie element feels like the series trying to branch out its audience and try to catch some eyeballs of viewers looking for something more like Archer, American Dad, Rick and Morty, or even Treehouse of Horror style genre exercises. Bob’s Burgers and action comedy feels like putting garlic pesto on cinnamon toast, but Ryan Reynolds doesn’t think so.

Yes, that’s right. The biggest news out of the Bob’s Burgers camp…probably ever…is that the Molyneux sisters, the writers of this very action packed episode, have been hand selected by Mr. Detective “VanWilder” Pickachu himself to be head writers on the upcoming third Deadpool movie. Seeing that we live in a post Russo brothers world and how Dan Harmon was conscripted to punch up Doctor Strange scripts none of this should really surprise me, but I am still very much surprised by this development. The Deadpool 3 creative team and Reynolds is still promising to deliver an R-Rated Comedy, a rating and promise that is very much why Deadpool is the sensation that it is.

In the current media landscape the only way a big budget R-Rated comedy can get made is if it’s attached to something like a mega superhero sized brand. At this point in time Deadpool is the closest thing kids have to a Mel or Al Brooks and it is what it is. If anything Ryan Reynolds personally choosing the Molyneux sisters for a project like this makes me like Ryan Reynolds a little bit more. And he’s a man I previously had no real feelings or opinions about. The only other thing about Deadpool I know about is that the franchise has developed a particularly shitty reputation in terms of its treatment of main female characters and literally freezing them out of the plot. The future of comedy is being driven by the significant increase of women gaining these kind of writing gigs and it’s a beautiful thing to finally see witness. Especially when a company like Netflix has been really shitty to both of its own female driven comedies: Glow and Tucca and Bertie.

Sigh. I am thankful for all the sad little boys and girls wearing too much or maybe the right amount of eye shadow that will inherit this flaming Earth.

Three and half pear shaped pals out of an Oedipus Rex Complex.

////

Nerds! Nothing but a lousy rotten sniveling dweeb! You dorkus-rex! You body pillow huffing geek get over here and let the Simpsons set some things straight for you: A Comic Book Guy driven episode of the Simpsons is often where the show goes off the rails. The Comic Book Guy marriage episode is was one of those late day Simpsons that feel like a bad piece of dreamed up fan fiction that you found on the cutting room floor. Is the show interested at all with the fact that comics and being nerdy have become as mainstream as the Bible? No? They’re still treating geek culture as some sort of low hanging piñata fruit lousy with cheap references in place of actual jokes? Good! I don’t know why I would ever allow myself to think for a second that the Simpsons would challenge its own status quo 32 seasons in, but I keep coming back.

What I should really do is back up. The title of this episode is “Three Dreams Denied.” Ah, Dream Denial! That’s exactly what anyone watching an animated sitcom hopes for: dreams being crushed. This isn’t some kiddy Davy and Goliath feel good wholesome fable, this is the Simpsons where characters are given dreams, and those dreams get denied. The next part of the title I want to break down is the fact that there are specifically three dreams that being denied. Three! That’s a comedy number! As long as you have three of anything you’re doing comedy. Plain and simple.

During the Robert Zemeicks arc of the Blank Check podcast Griffin Newman, co-host and comedian extraordinaire and someone I generally admire a lot, has been bringing up the fact that he’s been spending a lot of his Quarantine rewatching the entirety of the Simpsons. By the episode of Used Cars Newman has already gotten past the Movie era and is in the 20th seasons. One observation he made about later day Simpsons is that these episodes have a tendency to end abruptly on a pile of unusable and reality bending plots still in the process of tying themselves up. And there’s no better/worse example of this than this episode.

Comic Book Guy goes to a comic book convention. Bart becomes a voice actor after befriending the comic book guy’s temporary replacement. Lisa feuds over her saxophone chair in the school orchestra with a new pretty boy voiced by the underwhelming Ben Platt. One of these plots is not like the other. This used to be the signature of a quality Simpsons episode that managed to tweak and divert expectations from the typical A & B sitcom storylines. This episode fundamentally fails to deliver on any of the three storylines and what makes it worse is that it’s an intentional choice.

Now I know I have spent this review harping on Comic Book Guy, but he’s not even why this episode for me is such an abomination. And it’s not because the cutesy, flimsy Lisa subplot either (although I do find it noxiously amusing that a week after an Yeardely Smith took issue with the Queer Interpretation of Lisa would feature her going moony eyed over a boy voiced by a defiantly queer actor), no, what tips this episode into the territory of the truly terrible for me is the Bart becomes a voice actor subplot.

The only defining quality of season 32 that I can discern is that the flagrant trolling on behalf of the writers. Can you believe we had three vignette driven episodes of the Simpsons in a row? Can you believe we would have meta reality breaking voice actor related moments back to back? When Lisa Simpson’s voice actor Yeardley Smith voiced the real world character of herself in the previous Podcast based episode it was clumsy and awkward as hell. Having Bart become a voice actor that ends up voicing a character of the opposite gender is the sort of kind of a funny thing that resembles a joke that the latter day Simpsons revel in. The characterization of voice acting work in this episode is downright insulting and explains exactly why this show suffers.

The character of Phil that serves as the Comic Book Guy’s replacement is a working voice actor. He let’s Bart know this by doing a series of completely basic, broad and unremarkable impersonations that Bart is seemingly impressed by. All you have to do to become a successful voice actor is do a silly voice and you’re golden. Maybe from the perspective of a series as lazy and indulgent as the Simpsons is when it comes to voice acting. The complete denial of Julie Kavner’s deteriorating voice that at this point sounds like gentle elder abuse. There are times when Kavner is downright incomprehensible at times. The other oldest member of the Simpsons voice talent, Harry Shearer was wrongheadedly trying to defend his right to voice Characters of Colors because in his words, “the job of the voice actor is to play someone who they’re not.” Obviously these words were not spoken by someone that thinks very highly of acting either. There is no one job an actor has to do, because the job of an actor is always changing from job to job. The character of Phil is not even attributed to anyone! I have spent over thirty minutes getting testy with IMDB search engines and reading another website’s recap and no one can tell me who did the voice of the Voice Acting Character on Simpsons. Lovely.

Much like the Comic Book Guy the Simpsons heart is in bad shape. This is a show whose entire existence seems to be made out of spite. Or to garner enough funds for Matt Groening to prevent him from ever having to serve any prison time for his exploits on the Lolita express. Great, see I’m bringing up the Lolita Express at the end of a Simpsons review. This episode really left me in a bad mood, but thankfully that’s what Bob’s Burgers is for.

SKIP. The only people that should watch this are people teaching a screenwriting class that need examples of what happens when you break your episode by haphazardly shoving three plots into one episode. If you can’t tie up one story in a satisfying manner then you really shouldn’t be telling a story at all. There’s also one really magnificent visual joke involving Homer and beer tea that is absolutely wasted on this episode.

#Bob's Burgers #Deadpool #MCU #2021 #TV series #TV review #TV #The Simpsons #voice artist #voice acting #rant

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christinaengela · 4 years

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Hello friends and fans!

Welcome to my 44th newsletter – August 2020!

On A Personal Note

The 17th of July was a terribly sad day for our family because of the death of one of our fur-children, Ming. She was my little writing companion who used to sit across my shoulders sometimes, or on my knee while I typed away on my laptop.

I love all three our kitties, but Mingy-moo as I used to call her, held a special place in my heart… and to be frank, I miss her presence in my life terribly, as does Wendy.

Lily – our giant white mommy-cat, and Nyx – our little black one, were clearly in mourning as well. Their behavior has changed since she disappeared so suddenly from our lives, and even after a week, Nyx still hovers around the spot where Ming sat the last day she was with us, and Lily still searches the house for the missing kitty.

Ming used to do little things the other two kitties don’t do – some endearing, and some outright naughty – whose absence only makes her loss that much more tangible. Somehow the house seems so much more quiet and empty. Something is missing, and for weeks the empty-nest feeling has hung over it like a pall. It will be a while yet before we lift ourselves up again, and move on.

Then, in the early hours of Friday 24 July, more bad news! Someone asshat with sticky fingers burgled our Golf! Fortunately they were unprepared and set off the alarm and fled, leaving the driver side door open. There was some good news with the bad – there was no damage at all. The enterprising individual must’ve used a ‘slim-jim’ or similar tool to lever the lock open via the window channel, so no windows or locks etc. were damaged. I figure they also probably tried to steal the wheels – and then discovered I had a lock-nut on each wheel, because the only thing the bastards seem to have got away with is one single, solitary wheel-nut!

That aside, on other, much happier fronts, I completed another two paintings since last time we spoke – bringing my total number of paintings to five – and then I returned to writing again! On that front, among the BIGGEST news items I have to share with you this time, is the release of the audiobook version of “Blachart” – it’s finally here – and after three weeks of availability, I’m happy to report that it’s doing very well! More about that below!

Art

I also indulge in painting from time to time – and no, I don’t mean walls! The following paintings are in my portfolio:

“Human Nature” 2017 A4 acrylic canvas

“Balancier” 2020 A2 acrylic canvas

“Rescuer” 2020 A2 acrylic canvas

“The Awakening” 2020 A2 acrylic canvas

“The Earth Wept” 2020 40x40cm acrylic on canvas

I completed “The Awakening” on June 5, and started “The Earth Wept” just a few days later. “The Earth Wept” is on 40x40cm canvas and I finished that on July 12. I’ve also since renamed “Untitled” to “Human Nature”.

You can read more about my art projects on the Art page.

What do you think of them? Feel free to let me know!

Music

Yes – I also make music from time to time!

A selection of music tracks I made using eJay and other similar apps between 1999 – 2008 are available on my YouTube channel.

You can read more on the Music page on my website!

Activism

For those of you interested in my activism-related posts and activities, you can follow them at “Sour Grapes: The Fruit Of Ignorance“.

Current Writing Projects

In the past few weeks I deviated from writing and went into art for a while, delivering four new completed paintings in a little over a month! In the meantime however, I made a return to writing by starting the long awaited next title in the Galaxii series!

Book 4 – still under a working title – is currently at a little over 18,000 words and growing by the day!

Editing

On the editing side of things, my friend Brandon Mullins has been getting me into a proofreading and editing sideline over at Moon Books Publishing, and I’ll let you have any news on that as it happens!

I’ve just received the first submission for a new project entitled “Captain Jockstrap and the League of Do-gooders”! Yes, it probably is as silly as it sounds – but that’s the idea!

In the meantime, I still have a horror anthology on my desktop, which still needs a couple more submissions to reach publishing length – and more than that wouldn’t hurt! There will be no payment to writers, but participation will help get your name out there. If interested, please send them along to [email protected].

Marketing – The Dreaded “M” Word!

Portfolio 2020!

I thought it would be nice if I could produce a neat, organized catalog of all my books that interested parties could download and browse – a free, distributable and shareable catalog, and so I created “Portfolio 2020!” – a listing of all my currently available titles!

Portfolio is more than that though, because it also contains a biography as well as synopses for most of my titles – and I have a plan to update it regularly, perhaps on an annual basis! Portfolio 2020 is available as a free download from my website.

Videos

In July, I made a new book trailer video for the audiobook version of “Blachart” – and so did Nigel Peever as it turned out!

youtube

https://christinaengela.files.wordpress.com/2020/07/blachart-video-by-nigel-peever.mp4

Aren’t they great? 🙂

Sales

Getting my writing available in audiobook format seems to have been the ticket I’ve been waiting for, and these are truly exciting times for me as a writer! At this stage I have only one audiobook out, my first, and with its first month almost complete, sales are really encouraging! For the past month most of my marketing has been aimed at promoting “Blachart” and upcoming new audiobook titles “When Darkness Calls”, “Malice!” and “Demonspawn”. With more to follow, these items really could be the thing that helps promote my writing and blow those doors open that so far have tended to keep me out!

Publishing

Under recent releases this month, these are the six books I’ve released so far this year!

July really has been a month of change. Not only was there a death in the family, but it’s also the month I closed my account with Lulu.com – the self-publishing platform I’ve used since 2005. Although I am angry with Lulu, and sorely disappointed in what they’ve done – and how they did it – I am grateful for what they did for me over the years. There’s no way I would’ve had the foundations in self-publishing I have today, were it not for Lulu. At one time, they were the ONLY self-publishing platform that would take on writers from South Africa – let alone being willing to accommodate paying us via PayPal!

Sadly, I simply couldn’t get to grips with the awful new changes Lulu inexplicably inflicted on loyal users that – in my view – rendered the platform unfriendly and totally useless. In the second week of July I redistributed the titles that were based on Lulu between Moon Books (publishing eBook, paperback and audiobook via Amazon) and eBooks via EBooks2Go, Draft2Digital and StreetLib. Frankly I think some of them that were available only on Lulu will have an even wider reach as a result. I sent Lulu the account deletion request on the 20th.

Unfortunately, due to Lulu’s short-sighted idiocy, I now have to edit and update “The Pitfalls of South African Self-publishing” as well – there’s an entire section covering how to self-publish a book via the system Lulu just casually chucked into the bin that needs to change. Frankly, I’m thinking I’ll need to base that portion on EBooks2go instead – since their system is far simpler and easier to use, not to mention less fiddly.

Also as a result, I’ve had to update purchase links on my website and social media accounts that referred directly or indirectly to my books via Lulu. If you find any I haven’t got round to fixing yet, please drop me a line and let me know! 😉

Hally Park Publishers

For quite a while now I’ve been working to expand my marketing reach, and in the spirit of that endeavor I recently contracted with Hally Park Publishers – a South African small press who also list suitable self-published titles on their website – to list my eBooks!

It’s taken a little time for them to appear on their website – after all, I’m not the only author they have listed, and I have just over 30 books – so I’m sure that was quite a job! Nevertheless, the first fifteen appeared on their site during the night (yes, I’ve been watching)!

The advantage of this arrangement – that is, listing my books on a local South African book selling site – is that it’s a new local market which already attracts its own traffic! Additionally, the prices are displayed in Rands, as well as my books being displayed alongside titles by other local authors – which should attract more local readers looking for some local literary South African flavor!

You can view my listing there by clicking on the link, or the screenshot below!

Audiobooks

“All That Remains” JEA (2019)

“See Them Aliens” MBP (2019)

“Blachart” MBP (2020)

I mentioned previously in my post “Coming Soon! “Blachart” – the Audiobook!” back in May – and in my newsletters for June and July that I’ve been eagerly awaiting the audiobook release of “Blachart” – and I’m sure you have too!

On the July 10th I got a notification that “Blachart” the audiobook was available on Amazon! As I promised in February this year, “Blachart” has (finally) been released as an audiobook! It doesn’t usually take this long to go through the production process, and I’m sure the current pandemic must’ve had something to do with it – but regardless, the eagerly-awaited finished product has arrived at last! And – WOW – what a product it is!

Narrated by Nigel Peever, “Blachart” – book 1 in the Galaxii series – is 10 hours 26 min long, and is nothing less than a rip-roaring sci-fi adventure! You can read more about it here.

I’ve also had to review a string of auditions for “Malice!“, “When Darkness Calls” and “Best Served Cold” – and I have to comment on the diverseness of the sort of voices, accents and personalities that sent their auditions in! Wow! For a writer, nothing encapsulates the diversity of one’s audience more than listening to a variety of people, male and female, reading words you wrote in a variety of accents! It’s even more of a compliment when you can hear them enjoying it as they do so! “When Darkness Calls” is narrated by Miciah Dodge, and Michelle Innes had me covered in goosebumps as she read an excerpt of “Malice!” in her Scottish accent! Currently, “Malice!”, “When Darkness Calls”, and “Demonspawn” are in production, and we’re still looking for a narrator to read “Best Served Cold”!

Coming Soon

In the meantime, here’s a look at the covers for the coming audiobooks of “When Darkness Calls” and “Demonspawn”:

Reviews

You can see all my previous reviews here.

Currently Available Titles

I now have 29 unique titles available in 4 series (not including books I’ve been the editor for, and my 16 free promotional items)! My books are available in three different formats: EBooks, Paperbacks and Audiobooks. Click the links or images below to view titles available in these formats.

Communication

Below are links to a few of my most recent posts and articles since my last newsletter:

Expand The Brand: Hally Park Publishers

Guest Writer #4: Lee Hall

Coming Soon: “Malice!” – The Audiobook!

Coming Soon: “Demonspawn” – The Audiobook!

“Blachart” – TWO Audiobook Trailers!

“When Darkness Calls” – Actually A True Story

A Visit To The Archives!

“Blachart” – A Writing Journey [cross-posted on Moon Books website]

Unleashed: “Blachart” – The Audiobook!

Free Download! Portfolio 2020!

Another Round At The Crow Bar #43 July 2020

If you want to see more articles, just click on the category links below:

Elements of Horror

FAQ Answered

Fun Facts

LGBT Heroes

The Tech Side

Secret Weapons of the Resistance

Writing Advice

Guest Writers

Newsletters

Interactions

Fan Mail, Reader Reviews & Honorable Mentions

I very pleased to have quite a few items to show you this month!

Parade.com shared one of my quotes in a listing titled “150 of the Best Relationship Quotes and Sweetest Couple Quotes That’ll Make Your Heart Flutter” on July 08, 2020. “Regardless of what language it is said in, ‘I love you’ stays beautiful, and two hearts beating together make the same sound. It is the language of Love.” – Christina Engela

The Satanic Church of South Africa shared my academic book “Satanism: The Acid Test” on their website resource page! (found on July 12, 2020) This is of course, what this book is supposed to do – educate people, demystify the occult, and relieve people of their ignorance!

Miciah Dodge, the narrator recording “When Darkness Calls” sent a message via ACX on July 07:

Jennifer Shepard really seems to have liked my article about “Blachart”! (July 11, 2020):

The audiobook version of “Blachart” received a gracious reader/listener review on the 5th of July:

On July 21, Brandon Mullins, CEO of Moon Books Publishing shared the following compliment for “Blachart” in a publishing group on Facebook:

On July 26, Scott M. Darrah gave me his opinion of the audiobook:

Miciah Dodge, the narrator for “Christina Engela’s Strangely Compelling Scifi Stories vol 1”, “When Darkness Calls” and “Duck Blind” sent me this nice email on July 26, 2020:

I display my Fan Mail, Reviews & Compliments with pride, gratitude and humility. You’re always welcome to have a look.

Hate Mail & Horrible Mentions

On July 17, somebody thought it would probably be hilarious if they spam bombed my inbox with email notifications for a fake account they created in my name – on an Asian Dating Site in Indonesia! Unfortunately for them, I left the factory with a warped sense of humor, so instead of being bent out of shape by their ‘ingenuity’ all they did was give me a few good laughs… I mean have you seen half the profiles on any dating site?? Anyway, I know how to filter and block email addresses – and the admins of said dating site were kind enough to delete the profile for me when I asked nicely, so – better luck next time, whoever you are!

I’m rather proud of my hate mail, and you can review my collection here – but be forewarned, don’t do it while eating or drinking, or you might choke while laughing!

Interviews

All my interviews are linked to from this page. If you would like to do an interview with me about my work, please do get in touch!

In Closing

Well, that’s all for this time, folks! 🙂

Thanks again for all your support, friendship and interaction!

Feel free to email or message me via Facebook, Twitter or LinkedIn if you have any comments or questions!

Until next time, keep reading!

Cheers! 🙂

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If you would like to know more about Christina Engela and her writing, please feel free to browse her website.

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Another Round At The Crow Bar #44 August 2020 Hello friends and fans! Welcome to my 44th newsletter - August 2020!

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fatgirlwritesscenarios · 4 years

Text

Self Conscious - Lee Kikwang

You noticed that your boyfriend had been acting weird the last couple of days. Well…weirder than normal; by nature, he was a silly guy with a sense of humor that only those with an acquired taste would understand more than half of the time. He had actually grown quiet, almost solemn, and this wasn’t exactly usual behavior. Kikwang had stated once that he was more of a listener than a talker, contrary to popular belief, but this wasn’t even just him listening now.

This was him…sulking. This was him and his thoughts taking him somewhere that you didn’t think was good for him and that worried you. Not wanting to push him, you didn’t say anything, deciding that when the time came, all would be revealed.

That time just so happened to be Friday. It was the first day off he had since BEAST started promoting their latest album, about three months ago, and he wanted to spend that day with you. Of course, it goes without saying that you were overjoyed to spend some much needed time with him and promptly agreed to let him stay at your place. His mood seemed to have lifted a little, his usual eye-smile returning as the two of you goofed off all day and his jokes just rolling in one after another.

He showered you with attention all day, never straying far from your side and cuddling close with you as the two of you indulged in a day long movie marathon and you began to believe that he had finally dragged himself out of his funk. It wasn’t until later that evening, as you were passing the living room to get to the kitchen, that you noticed Kikwang standing in front of the mirror that was placed above the TV. You paused and peered in at him, watching curiously as he stared at his own reflection. His expression was somber, just bordering on dejected. He turned his face left and right slowly, running his fingers through his ‘frizzy’ hair and then down the contours of his face. He sucked his full lips in and bit down on them before letting them pop back out. Finally, after about a minute or two of doing this, he sighed, his shoulders drooped…and he looked almost ready to cry.

‘What on earth…’ you thought to yourself, a few ideas on why he was acting this way flitting through your mind as you slowly, quietly, approached your boyfriend.

Standing beside him, he apparently didn’t notice you, returning to studying his features all over again. You thinned your lips and turned to face the mirror yourself, deciding that two could play this game and struggling to keep from smiling like a fool. You pinched at your cheeks and then dragged your fingers down your face, turning your head left and right. Next, you ran your fingers into your hair to push the locks away from your face and then pushed your ears out, as if trying to decide whether or not they looked better away from your head. You puckered your lips, made a duck face, and then took a handful of hair in each hand, twirled the strands into a loose twist and then crossed them over each other just underneath your nose, cocking your head side to side.

By this time, Kikwang realized you were standing right next to him. Coffee brown eyes, alight with curiosity, landed on you, but you ignored his attention for the time being as you continued to ‘analyze’ yourself in the mirror, still making somewhat silly faces. Kikwang giggled and you turned to look at him finally, your hands holding your hair above your head and your cheeks puffed out cutely.

“Jagiya, what are you doing?” he laughed, coaxing you to let your hair fall back into place and poking your cheeks so the air would rush out, “Why are you making silly faces?”

“Why are you making silly faces?” you shot back, quirking a knowing eyebrow at the man that froze, stunned, “I’m only doing what my boyfriend is doing.”

Kikwang tried to force a smile and you could almost see the denial about to fly past his lips, but then he seemed to remember that there wasn’t much he could keep from you, especially when you were looking at him like that, and sighed in resignation. Instead of answering, he returned his gaze to the mirror, staring forlornly at his reflection.

“Lee Ki,” you said softly, sliding your hand up his arm until it was resting comfortingly on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

His eyes met with yours and you could finally see the vulnerability there, a gloomy light casting its shadow over his face and making him appear small. “I don’t…really know how to explain it,” he started, sighing in frustration and staring back at the dark brown eyes he didn’t believe were particularly special, “I just don’t feel like I measure up.”

“Okay…measure up to what?” you coaxed, stroking his shoulder and tilting your head down to catch his attention again.

“To the others. To the other guys in BEAST. To any other male Kpop idol that every girl adores!” he all but exploded, “I’ve never been very confident in my looks…but lately, I feel like there’s just nothing to like about me at all. My hair is a nightmare, my face isn’t cute or handsome, my lips are too thick, I’m short! It’s no wonder that I’m the least popular in the group and those are probably just pity votes…”

“Pity votes? Lee Ki,” you called lightly, a giggle brushing over your words as you reached up to take his chin in your fingers, giving him no other choice than to look back at you. You studied his face, searching for any sign that this wasn’t as serious as you thought it was. When you saw nothing close to a smile even glimmering in his eyes, that gave you pause.

“Hate to break this to you, but your fans don’t believe in pity votes.” Your tone was light with amusement while you crossed your arms over your chest and gazed into his eyes. “I don’t know if you know this, but those B2UTYs that you and the others care for so much are merciless when it comes to picking, judging and loving an idol. Someone made a negative comment about Junhyung in a forum once and your fans tore this person to pieces, so you can trust that any vote you have is not a pity one.”

That seemed to cheer him up, if only a little, but that dejected expression remained on his face. You pursed your lips in thought and then gasped quietly at your next idea. “Come on. Follow me,” you said, taking his hand in yours, smiling when he tightened his hold instantly, and leading him back to your room.

There, you sat on the bed, Kikwang diving in after you and watching as you brought up your laptop and typed in his name in the search engine. Now, Kikwang was no oblivious oaf to the BEAST official website that their PR department put together for them and would check that, Twitter and Instagram frequently just to see what their fans were saying about the group. Never before had he actually looked himself up, though, so he was both curious and terrified to see what this would result in when you typed out his name. He held his breath…and then released it within a second.

There was an endless list of fan-made websites and pages all dedicated to him. You picked on the first one and up popped what appeared to be a website run by a fan that had been with them since they first debuted. The amount of traffic that went through that site was astronomical! The members that subscribed to it, the dozens of forums, the comments left- they were all dedicated to him and what each one loved about him. You exited out of that website and went down to the next one; it was the same thing there as well as in the next…and the next…and the next one after that. Kikwang was astounded by the love he was shown individually by the B2UTYs, how they admired him and followed him and would continue to follow him with or without BEAST. He asked you to slow down on a certain website that were filled with pictures of him; he had never thought himself to be very good looking, but these pictures showed a side of him that even made him a believer in his own attraction.

“This is what your fans see when they look at you,” you started, looking at your boyfriend, “This is how you make them feel. Look at this comment left by a BEAST…At least, I think that’s what you call your male fans.” Kikwang leaned closer, his eyes drifting over the comment left by someone named kikwangfollower43.

“Kikwang oppa is my inspiration. Like him, I grew up in a rural area of Korea, but I had the misfortune of being born with weak bones. Regardless, I love dancing and I love music. Because of Kikwang oppa and knowing that he had a poor beginning like I did, I am motivated to work through my disadvantage and become a great dancer just like him. My goal is to meet him one day and dance for him. Thank you, Kikwang oppa, for inspiring those like me and for the amazing music you sing. I will forever be your loyal fan. Fighting!”

He hadn’t even realized he had begun to cry until your finger brushed over his cheek to catch the falling tears. His larger, more calloused fingers wrapped around your hand, bringing it down to press a kiss to your fingertips.

“Thank you,” he smiled gratefully, nuzzling into your hand contently, his eyes closing and the last of his tears leaking from his eyes, “You’re the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Anything for my baby,” you answered, your thumbs drying his tears away, “Just remember, Lee Ki, to concentrate on those that love you and not on those that love everyone else. The others do have their fans, yes, but you have yours as well and they look up to you. Just like I do because I’m your biggest fan, hehehe.”

Kikwang chuckled, his eye-smile returning full force before he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you close until your lips were meeting together in perfect harmony. You savored the feel of his full, juicy lips playing along yours, his big hand running up and down your side sending a thrill through your body.

“Where would I be without you?” he murmured lowly, rolling kisses over your cheek and trailing down your neck.

“Stuck in front of that mirror,” you answered lightly, releasing a squeal of delight when he rolled you onto your back, shutting your laptop in the process and carefully placing it on the ground beside the bed, “Feeling better?”

He nodded his head and nuzzled into the side of your neck, his arms holding you tight as if afraid that you would disappear should he ever let go. “Much. Again, thank you, jagiya…I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered into the air, your arms draping around his muscular build and falling into your sense of security, silently promising yourself that you would always be there to remind him of how beautiful he truly was.

#B2ST/BEAST #beast scenarios #beast imagines #Highlight #highlight scenarios #highlight imagines #lee kikwang #kikwang scenarios #kikwang imagines #reupload

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eurydicum · 5 years

Text

rooftop sights — p.p

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Category: fluff

Summary: Spider-Man accidentally finds you on the balcony, and offers you a break from the stressors of school work for the rest of the evening

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: This is best read on the website rather than the mobile app, the app flubs up the formatting of it all

For any of my Peter Parker lovers, I’ll be starting up a series for him pretty soon :)

—

parker master list

“God, I need a break,”

You murmured to yourself before pushing away from your desk — taking a much-needed break from the tolling essays. A sigh passed by your lips as you swung the door upon and stepped upon the balcony. The fresh air felt nice during the middle of the night, the light breeze passing through your hair and kissing your warm skin. It was cold, yes, but a lovely break from being all cooped up and hot in your apartment.

You hugged your arms and leaned forward against the railing, smiling at the blessed view you had every night. Living lavishly in New York and having the sight of the wide city was eternally gorgeous from such a high apartment view.

However, your moment to yourself was suddenly interrupted as a spiderweb attaching to the very top of the building. You were startled out of your wits and yelped, jumping back as you saw the red-and-blue-clad hero hop onto the ledge of your apartment.

“Oh my God, ma’am I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man hastily apologized, mask eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, or startle you,” He added on, smiling sheepishly underneath the mask.

“No, no it’s okay,” You ensured sweetly, standing straight and eyeing him down for just a moment. Spider-Man felt a little flustered, not only due to the fact that he totally frightened you, but his luck led him to cross paths with this cute girl.

“So, Spider-Man, what brings you here?” You asked suspiciously, brows furrowed and a smile loose on your lips. His hand rose to his neck, rubbing the nape as he sheepishly glanced down at the city streets down below.

“Just ... doing some patrolling, and this is one of the highest buildings,” Spider-Man explained simply, shifting positions as he sat upon the ledge.

“I probably shouldn’t keep you here too long, especially since you’re doing your job,” You glanced back to your laptop for a moment before turning back to him. “And I’ve got an essay to write for science so-”

“I mean, I’m pretty much not doing anything. It’s almost four in the morning and I’m sure the city will be fine without me for a bit,” Spider-Man joked, glancing up at the roof before returning his gaze to you. A blazing thought ran through his head, and he smirked to himself. He extended his hand out to you, eyes on his mask perking up a bit to indicate that he was smiling in some manner.

Live a little.

“Wanna take a break from the work and join me?”

“Fuck, God yes,” You laughed, taking hold of his hand eagerly. For two strangers, this was quite the audacious move to make. But then again, Spider-Man was bold when Peter Parker was not. Tonight, he was gonna let loose and talk up the cute girl that obviously needed the break.

Spider-Man wrapped an arm around your waist and flung the both of you onto the very top of the building — well, way above the building. You gasped sharply once you both were high above the city, your eyes catching a quick glimpse of New York once again. Everything around you felt slowdown as light filled your sights, and the warmth of Spider-Man while he held you tight.

“Wow,” You murmured the moment you both landed on the flat top of the building. You sighed in content, slowly slipping away from Spider-Man’s grasp. You slowly stepped onto the edge of the building and sat down, hands gripping. Despite this sight being your normal, every night view, it felt so different seeing it from what felt like the top of the world.

“Why is this cooler?” You murmur to yourself sarcastically, chuckling quietly underneath your breath.

“It’s ‘cause you’re with me,” Spider-Man jokingly responded, sitting next to you with a cheeky grin on his face. You rolled your eyes and elbowed the superhero lightly on the side.

“It’s Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, not Amazing Spider-Man,” You jested, causing the mentioned hero to snort.

—

As the night sang on, you two were caught up in the silliness of your exchanging stories of normalcy and heroism. In just the short hour that you’ve spoken to him, you’ve felt so at ease and the impending weight of your essay to be due in two days fell off your shoulders. This practical stranger made you feel relaxed, and you were somewhat upset that very soon this sweet moment of bliss would never occur again.

You glanced down at the time on your phone, realizing that it was almost around the time that you would get up and begin getting ready for school. Spider-Man noticed you disappointedly looking at the time before returning your gaze to him. You stood up along the edge, glancing down at the blazing city lights and then up toward the slowly rising sun.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” You hummed sadly, but before you could leave, Spider-Man’s hand grabbed yours. You looked back at him with a concerned curiosity, your brows furrowed and a smile hinted on your lips.

“Hey, let’s do one more thing,” He suggested slowly, a shy smile creeping on his face. “It’ll be on me for keeping you up,” Spider-Man carefully slipped his arm around your waist.

“Hold on tight,” He warned, and you instantly wrapped your arms and legs around his body. Spider-Man shot out a web and immediately began swinging throughout the city. You gasped, fear suddenly overcoming you — your face buried in his chest and you practically squeezing the poor boy from fright alone.

“You’re safe with me,” Spider-Man reminded as he continued to fling the two of you around the city. Almost as quickly as you left, you found yourself safely on the concrete and your world was spinning.

“Woah,” You breathily said, stumbling back into Spider-Man’s arms as he held you straight — letting you get over the dizzy spell. You looked up to him while he still clutched you, an exasperated smile on your face.

“How the hell do you do that every day?” You sigh, still buzzing from the thrill and fear of the whole experience. Spider-Man laughs and smooths out your hair, giving a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Just takes a leap of faith,” He smiles sheepishly, slowly slipping his arm from around you out of courtesy. You laughed and shook your head at his little comment, and quickly you walked into Delmars for some sandwiches and coffee.

“Ah, Spider-Man,” Mr. Delmar said with a pleased smile. The closer you two approached the front, he noticed your presence as well.

“Good morning to you too, Miss,” Mr. Delmar politely greeted, and you gave him a pleasant smile and wave. In what was quite literally a less-than-a-minute exchange, Spider-Man ordered two ‘usuals’ for the pair of you and two coffees as well. While waiting around for the coffees to be finished up, he leaned against the closest wall while you stood a few inches away from him. The two of you just continued chatting, picking up the conversation from earlier.

“Your breakfast,” Mr. Delmar called out, and Spider-Man took the initiative to grab the food and drinks. You both thanked him and slowly departed from the store. Not even a few feet outside you both tried to figure out the whole ordeal with trying to swing and hold the food and drinks securely.

“I can just wrap one arm around your neck?”

“Wow, getting bold now?” He teased, making you flush in a meek embarrassment. However, he did take up your suggestion and held you carefully — bag of sandwiches around the arm that held you while you balanced the drinks against both of your chests strangely.

“We’re never ordering drinks with food again,” You murmured to yourself. Spider-Man laughed at this and flung the two of you over to where your apartment was located. You sheepishly pressed the bottom half of your face against his shoulder and took a peek at the city from your position. New York was never quiet and always busy, but the city seemed to be at ease despite every passing car disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You two eventually returned to your balcony and directly sat in front of the glass doors. You noticed Spider-Man lift up the bottom half of his mask, and you curiously looked at him. His skin was pale and smooth, practically immaculate — it almost felt illegal to see such a faint part of the anonymous hero.

The pair of you continued chatting away the next thirty minutes, indulging in the delicious sandwiches and sweet coffee. At some point through the light meal, you found yourself leaning against Spider-Man’s body — your head leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you for the food, and spending time with me,” You murmured to him once you both finished your meals. He smiled, and God what a nice grin it was. “I really needed that,” You hummed, standing up slowly to stretch. You extended your hand out to him and helped him off the ground, pulling him ever so subtly toward you. You gently left a kiss on the soft patch of skin next to his lips, causing the hero to blush deeply underneath the rest of the mask.

“I hope we could do this again,”

#spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines

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sheeptiefstolemyheart · 5 years

Text

Katabasis

A Mechanisms fanfiction based on the Ulysses Dies At Dawn album and the extra information on their website. A small crack idea about how the Persephone myth would turn out in that universe, and an excuse for writing morally grey characters.

Warnings for: bad people doing fucked up things including mass murder, arson, and small mentions of incest and forced prostitution to fund a drug addiction. It’s the Mechanisms.

Persephone lives a life that many would call “confined to a golden cage”. That’s the ‘benefit’ of being an Olympian. An endless youth leads to an endless line of parties and dresses and friends and boring, boring days. It’s awful. The city far below churns and grinds and she lives and lives and her mother indulges her and her family continues to be awful. They fight and steal and kill and cling to civility by the skin of their teeth and it’s so tedious and awful. Until one day something - someone? a group of someones - arrives in the city. The first murmurings are of a few someones causing a mass bar brawl that turns into a massacre. The next is when Dionysis introduces his new therapist, a strange man who calls himself a Baron and wears clothes of a type Persephone swears are several hundred centuries old. The final is when someone takes control of the Acheron, calling themselves Hades. The “actual fucking Acheron who the fuck would do that who the fuck has that much power how the fuck did this happen” Zeus rants and raves in a family meeting, throwing his pad against the wall. Persephone ducks her head and looks at her fingers and thinks about her plants at home until Zeus is saying her name and everything else is quiet.

Her head shoots up. Everyone is looking at her. Her mother looks terrified and worried and Persephone can’t help stuttering in the face of her uncle’s cold gaze. “Y-Yes Uncle? I’m sorry…” She doesn’t want to say ‘I wasn’t listening to you’ but it gets through and across the table Hera snorts. There’s a brief flash of anger across Zeus’ face but he tempers it, surprisingly. “What would you say about getting married?” Persephone blinks dumbly and thinks about what they were just talking about. Slowly she connects the dots. “To Hades?” Zeus nods, like nodding to a child, and Persephone just shrugs. She doesn’t know where it comes from. Marriage was not what she expected this morning but it sounds exciting. Marriage to a new God sounds exciting. More exciting than her golden cage and the same day in and out. She nods properly and there is a look of honest surprise on Zeus’ face. He claps his hands together and grins at her wide as a shark. “So, that’s settled. My sweet niece will be sent to Hades as a wife and hopefully we will be in their good books and we can continue on without too much trouble.” The rest of the Olympians are chattering and whispering and giving her approving glances or surprised ones and Hera nods demurely to her. Persephone feels like an adult all of a sudden.

Zeus turns to leave and Demeter springs up to follow him, giving Persephone an incredulous look. “You can’t do this to her! She’s a child! You can’t just marry-” Zeus’ hand collides with her mother’s cheek and the room goes silent. Demeter doesn’t say a word, only cradles her cheek as Zeus moves past her and takes Persephone’s hands in his. His power is absolute. “I’m very proud of you Persephone my dear. You’re becoming a proper Olympian.” She nods shakily and tries not to hyperventilate. This is the closest he’s been to her in years. He’s terrifying. He moves away and Hera cups her face and smiles and then follows her husband. Other Olympians nod to her in passing, touch her shoulders or arms, murmur praise and reassurances, and then she’s alone with her mother who is looking at her with cold fury. Demeter leaves without a word and Persephone feels strangely proud. She’s been 19 for centuries. She has to grow up sometime.

As much as it’s her wedding, it doesn’t much concern her. Persephone stays in her room and looks at wedding gowns and talks about flowers and thinks about where she’s going to live, deep underground, and packs her plants up and tries to imagine what her new spouse will be like. Her mother and her uncle and her family arrange everything else. It turns out that there won’t be a wedding. Instead, she will simply go to live with Hades and then everything will be fine. Persephone suspects that none of them have actually confirmed the details with Hades themselves. So when the day comes and everything Persephone owns is packed up and put into a little shuttle it’s fair to say she’s more than a little nervous. Her mother hugs her tight and cries into her hair until she squirms away to save the nice makeup and hair job Hera had done for her, a nice treat considering hera hates her and her mother for the obvious reason. Zeus gives her a tight hug and as she is enveloped he whispers in her ear. “Don’t fuck this up. Don’t be stupid like your mother.” She looks him in the eye as she pulls away. Her mother thinks her a silly child. She is far more. “I’ll make you proud uncle.” She thinks she sees approval as he guides her to the shuttle but then he closes the door and the shuttle starts to move and she clutches her little purse with white knuckles. She can’t fuck this up.

The shuttle takes her down through the upper city first, then the decent roads of the lower city, then the ground opens up and she’s in the undercity. Further and further down she goes, staring out at areas she’s never seen. She’d never truly understood the true scale of the city. Soon they’re truly underground, nothing but LEDs to light their way, and she feels herself wilting. What has she done? After hours of travel they pull up in front of a club, red and black and sleek. She is helped out by the driver and greeted by a curious bouncer who scans her wrist code and frowns. They make a call then signal for her to wait and disappear into the doors, music trickling out from the open door. A high, mournful voice singing about the city. Persephone clutches her bag and waits, chills creeping up her spine. What time is it here? Even with the fluorescents it’s so dark and so cold. Eventually the bouncer returns and guides her in without another word, something like a smile on their face. They weave her through the bar through crowds of people, past a band, up a set of winding stairs at the back, and behind a red door. They go down a long red corridor and knock on a final red door at the end. The cheers and raucous shouting from behind it stop and a smoky, smooth voice calls out “Enter.” Persephone can barely catch her breath before the bouncer opens the door and propels her in. She stumbles as she gets her bearings as the door shuts silently behind her.

It’s a cards room. A huge table in the middle, a strange assortment of people clustered around it. There’s a woman with what look like wings, talking to a woman with a book whilst a nymph with a moustache listens curiously. Two men with goggles are trying to outdrink a man with a wild look in his lightning scarred eyes. Persephone thinks she sees the Baron there, talking to a lady in a military coat and a ponytail who looks bored shitless by him. At the head of the table sits Hades. She’s seen that face on video calls with her uncle. They stare at her with a curious look, raising one eyebrow as they shuffle a pack of cards. “Yes? What do you want?” For a second, Persephone can’t speak. She remembers the wrath of Zeus. She straightens up and looks Hades dead in the eyes. “I’m Persephone?” She’s not sure if it’s a question but Hades still looks confused. The Baron makes a happy noise and gets up to greet her, effusing a near insincere joy at seeing her. “Persephone! Little darling, how are you? What brings you down here, so far from your mother’s cage?” He takes her hands and kisses it and she curtseys the way she’s been taught, and behind them she hears a few fed up groans.

The Baron moves back to his seat, smug. He avoids the slap around the head that the woman with the ponytail moves to give him, and winks at Persephone. She knows that she blushes. From the head of the table Hades sighs, deep and long and tired. “Yes? You’re an Olympian, right? Zeus’…” “Niece.” The Baron fills in. Hades barely acknowledges him. “Why has Zeus sent his lovely niece all the way down here to see me?” After Persephone gets over the descriptor of “lovely”, she frowns. Oh dear. It hadn’t been confirmed. “I’m… Your wife?”

Her words hang in the air like bricks. She seems to have almost stunned them all. The man with the scarred eyes starts to laugh like a maniac and Hade’s arms shoots out. They smash the man’s face into the table and he lifts a finger in a swear, still cackling. The rest of the table are watching as well, a few of the women with their heads in their hands, the Baron staring at her curiously. Hades slowly opens their mouth and speaks. “My wife? What the…” Realisation seems to hit them. “You cannot be serious. I thought that was a- Fuck.” Perspehone nods shyly, trying to ignore how intently some of them are staring at her now. Hades sighs, finally removing their hand from the scarred man’s neck.

Persephone suddenly feels very, very small as the various people around the table assess her. Hades lifts their hands up in a placating manner. “I didn’t think he was serious.” The women with the book chips in, sarcasm colouring her voice. “So you just accidentally married a girl Ashes?” Hades glares at her and Persephone feels a chill up her spine. Ashes. Hades real name is Ashes. Hades scowls and looks at Persephone, at her pink dress and green hairpieces in this red underworld, and they point at the door. “Go home. I did not want this. Give my regards to your uncle and go.” They sit back down and focus on the cards, the others going back to their drinks and talks. Persephone cannot. She will not go home a failure. She will not suffer her uncle’s wrath. She walks over to the table and sits down in a chair. Slowly, the amused gazes of those around the table turn to her. “No.” Hades raises their head. Sighs. Places the cards deliberately down. “I’m sorry?” “No. I’m not leaving. I’m not going back to Zeus a failure.”

The Baron nods in understanding. “She’s right Ashes. That man will kill her for failing. He kills his own children like they are little bugs. Almost admirable but still very messy.” Around the table eyebrows are raised but Hades continues to stare at Persephone. Out of the corner of her eye, the mustachioed nymph offers her a drink. It gets a scolding from Hades but she still takes it. She sculls it down, makes a face at the burn, and slams the glass back on the table to approval from the group. The scarred man nods. “You could do worse.” Hades slaps him round the head. “You won’t go? I will make you leave.” “I’m not going. You know what my uncle will do to me, to my mother. I am not going to leave. You’re married now, hi. Congratulations.” Hades sucks a breath in. “This is not… This is not how marriage works. You know that right?”

“I’m not a child.” The laughter from around the table is sarcastic, and Persephone bristles. “I’m not!” “You’re how old? 19?” The winged woman asks, hiding a snort in her drink. “I’m 233, actually.” That tempers them a little but one of the men with the goggles still laughs, counting drunkenly on his fingers. “Not too bad. Been up in your golden cage though, all your life. What makes you think you could cut it down here?” The woman with the ponytail asks, something like recognition in her eyes. Persephone knows she has an answer to that. “Because I’m an Olympian. My family is a family of near-immortal fucked up shits who murder people indiscriminately. This entire city is just a playground for murderers and monsters and I’ve lived amongst them for 233 years ” She has everyone’s attention, especially Hades. Slowly they put down their cards and look at her, and she knows they’re seeing her in a new light. She was right. She knows exactly who these people are. They’re the chaos makers. Looking for trouble, looking to destroy. She wants that.

She looks Hades right in their eyes. “I don’t want to live up there anymore. I’ll do whatever you want but I want to live here. Not up there.” There’s a few giggles from the group but Hades keeps their eyes on her. They lay down their cards in a pattern she’s never seen before, and the scarred man drunkenly points at one. Hades doesn’t look away as they turn it over. Queen of Hearts. Hades frowns. “Okay. You,” they point to Persephone. “Leave the room. I need to talk with my crew.” The scarred man lifts his head, and as Persephone leaves the room she hears him say “Your crew? My crew you mean I’m the cap-” “Shut the fuck up Jonny.”

Persephone finds herself with her ear pressed against the door, trying to catch anything being said inside. The conversation swells in a raucous manner towards the end she catches snippets.

“She’s a child!” “233…” “Compared to any of us, that’s a child!” “She’s a posh little idiot.” “Like you when we met you Nastya?” “I will kill you Tim.” “She’s useful. Clever. Got that look about her. Not one of us, but she’s more than them.” “Something fun to play with Ashes? We don’t usually get to play with the mortals like this.” “She’s here now. Might as well see how useful she can be.”

Persephone has enough sense to dart backwards at the finality in Hades voice. The door swings open and the nymph is standing there, smiling very wide. “Please come in!” She follows it in, ready to fight to the death if Hades somehow decides to send her back by force. They are sitting at the head, shuffling cards as the other people - crew members - start to pack up. One by one they file out past Persephone, some ignoring her, some smiling, some giving her scrutinising looks. The scarred man, Jonny, slaps Ashes on the back and as he goes his eyes trace all over Persephone. It’s not perverted, more assessing, but she meets his eyes. In his eyes is the same maddened bloodlust as Zeus and it takes everything for Persephone not to flinch and look away. A smile quirks his lips and he closes the door with a slam as he leaves, leaving Persephone alone with her new partner.

A chair slides out next to Hades and Persephone takes the hint. Closer and closer she comes until she can see the now interested light in Hades eyes. She sits primly and tries not to feel terrified. This is the person who took control of the Acheron. Their friends have killed thousands of people, caused so much damage, hurt so many people. Something in her heart beats a little faster. She thinks it’s excitement. Hades sighs, and runs their hands through their hair, and looks at her expectantly. “I’m not happy about this, you know? But your uncle is right, this will help me work with him. I am not your… dream husband. I am not someone you want to be married to. I will not be your husband in anything more than name.” Something like relief loosens in Persephone’s chest. She’d never seen the point of uncle Dionysis’ drunken orgies, all that sex and those bodies. It was never for her. She shrugs, and they nod.

“You know I’m not a good person, right? Those people are my crew, my family. We kill people. We cause chaos. It’s what we were made for and I won’t be here long, just passing through, having fun. Understand the cards you’re being dealt?” Persephone looks them in the eye. “The city I live in runs on the tortured half-living brains of the dead. My uncle has killed every single one of his bastard commoner children so far save one, and that one he arranged the death of his entire family to keep him in debt. I had 17 different nannies because my father kept sleeping with them and his wife kept killing them. Oh yeah, my father is my uncle and everyone knows it but we don’t talk about it. I’m 233 years old because my family sucks the life force from children and uses it to live longer and longer. The person that discovered it, they set him up to kill his own father and marry his own mother. They had children together. Then they set it up for everyone to find out. I haven’t once gone against anything they have done. I’m not a good person either.” It’s the longest bad thing about her family she’s ever said. Hades raises an eyebrow and for the first time since they met, Persephone sees a smirk on their face. “Well. Let’s take you home then.”

Their mouth twists at the word home, but they do offer their arm to Persephone as they lead her out of the room and to the upper levels of the club. The apartment is nice. There’s two layers to it: the bottom layer which is Hades business area and leads into Hades Acheron offices, and the upper part of it where they live. It’s a sleek fancy apartment, with huge bedrooms and offices and when the club is in full swing Persephone can hear the music through the floors and the vents. Hades likes the club, and Persephone likes it as well. It’s a fun place to hang out. Her bedroom is nice as well, pull of plants that she keeps in perfect condition. The business area is more… Business. It’s where people come to ask Hades for favours, for forgiveness, for aid. She likes to sit on the sidelines sometimes, watch her spouse work, watch how they weave their plans and schemes, how they make people indebted to them. Gods, the city is a desperate heaving mess. One day she sits in on a meeting Hades is having with a person: tall, dark, broken. Like so many of them. She doesn’t pay much attention to their begging, but Hades takes an interest in them. As they leave they give her a look that pierces to her soul. That night she finds Hades and she lies down beside them in their bed, just to be close to someone.

Time carries steadily on. Her mother calls her. Zeus checks in occasionally. Persephone feels no need to return to the surface, to mingle with her family. She has far more interesting friends now. Hades friends, who call them Ashes, are a wild bunch. They all call themselves The Mechanisms, and Persephone suspects that’s not the name of their group. That’s what they are. Murders and thieves, vagabonds and outlaws. Machines and humans. Not even human anymore. Something new. Something awful. Something hideous. They are incredible to know. She slowly finds her way into the outskirts of their little group, as Ashes wife. They mostly allow it because it gives them a chance to mock Ashes mercilessly. Jonny d’Ville, first mate (captain) and psychopath who thinks nothing of killing 36 men in a bar brawl. He takes her on one, and when they stumble out to the street soaked in other people’s blood Persephone thinks she understands why the city is the way it is. Killing is so exhilarating. Drumbot Brian is a fun night out. Give him a plan and a justification for it and he takes her through three city districts in a hijacked shuttle. She sticks her head from the roof window and screams sheer bloody delight. Gunpowder Tim shows her the beauty of weapons, from the simple pistol all the way up to his favourites. She takes out one of her uncle’s smaller clubs with five barrels of explosives and a lighter Ashes lent her, and they watch as it burns with ash on their faces. The smell of gunpowder in Persephone’s clothes for days after.

Raphaella is aloof but highly interested in Persephone’s mother’s business: poisons natural and unnatural. Persephone tells her everything she’s learnt at her mother’s side and lets Raphaella inject her with one of the scientists own concoctions. In the minutes before Ashes rescues her she writhes on the floor in blissful agony and she swears she sees and feels the entire universe through every nerve of her body that is on fire. Marius tends to her afterwards. He tells her everything going up in her family home, and she tells him everything about her life. He doesn’t even blink when she tells him about Zeus. He writes it all down and promises it’s for a good cause. She catches his talking to Ashes with the notebook out and she only grins. Nastya introduces her to the Aurora, their ship, her lover. She shows her around and Persephone looks at the way Nastya looks at the Aurora and feels overwhelmed. What a big thing. Nastya also teaches her how to sabotage any machinery she comes into contact with and how to hotwire shuttles. They go for drives around the city together. Ivy is always happy to learn. She picks Persephone’s brain when she hasn’t plugged herself straight into the Acheron like an addict with a needle. She hooks Persephone up once but it’s too much. Persephone wonders how empty Ivy’s mind has to be to keep all that information and not go crazy. The Toy Soldier, still a nymph, still mustachioed, shows her how to shoot like a soldier. It corrects her posture with an accent she’s never heard before, and offers her tea after every shot she gets right.

One game night Jonny makes a joke about her and Ashes and Persephone doesn’t hesitate when she pulls the nice new sidearm ashes helped her buy. She shoots Jonny through the throat and stands over him with the barrel at his head when he regenerates and looks up at her with wild delighted eyes. The Mechanisms applaud and cheer and toast her, and Persephone has never felt so proud of herself. When he pulls himself up Jonny grins wide and pours her an extra shot. She feels like she belongs. Then she catches Ashes looking at her with a frown on their face and she remembers that no, she doesn’t. She’s a fun past time, an entertainment. They’ll move on soon. Whenever they’ve caused the havoc they want they’ll up and go and Persephone won’t go with them. It’s not her ship to travel on. She’s not a Mechanism. She’s only married to one. Ashes still takes care of her. They teach her everything they know about business and gambling and people and tell her that they know she will make the right decisions in the future. Tells her that something big is coming but she can be ready.

A few months later it’s her cousin Heracles begging her partner for aid. Cousin, brother, whatever. He doesn’t notice her, thankfully. He would probably try and kill her, just to get revenge on their father. Again, he wants his freedom. Again, her spouse offers a different plan. Someone out there has a job, and Ashes is slowly funnelling people their way. She sips her drink and wonders. Finally it is Orpheus who comes to Ashes. Persphone loves Orpheus, loves his music and his voice and she’d been so happy to see him happy with his fiancee and not trapped in Dionysus club sleeping with rich women for lotus petals. It’s so sad to see him like this: chewed up and spat out by the city. She knows what he asks for is not a good idea. To take someone out of the Acheron means they don’t come back right but the poor thing is so desperate she pleads with Ashes from across the bar. They send him away, to that Job they won’t talk about, and she smiles sweetly at him.

A few weeks later Persephone wakes in the morning and the whole crew are in her kitchen talking. When she comes out they look at her with a wild hunger mirrored in every eye and Persephone knows something has happened. Something is going to happen. Something big. “You’re leaving.” She says to Ashes and Ashes nods. “What are you leaving behind?” Ashes tells her. Persephone doesn’t faint, although she does have to find a seat. She looks into the drink the Toy Soldier slides to her and knows that this is how it was always going to end. A city like this will only ever cannibalise itself. It just needs a little help. She finishes her drink in one and goes to pack up. She only takes what she can carry, what she can fit into the little shuttle that Nastya has adapted specially for her. Ashes hands her a chip and when she scans it she realises that it has every credit that has ever passed through the club. She gives them a smile and flips it just the way they taught her.

The Mechanisms leave one by one. Soon she’s alone with ashes and she can’t stop the way she feels scared. Like a child again. Ashes puts their hands on her shoulders and from their waistcoat they pull out a lighter. “Burn the motherfuckers.” She nods and puts it in her pocket and then they leave and she’s alone in the apartment. They didn’t need to be so nice to her. Maybe they’ll come back some time, see how she’s climbed over the bodies they’ve left behind. She sits and waits and waits and waits and then the power goes out. It’s happened. Somewhere deep below, the Mechanisms have set fire to the Acheron. The city is burning from the inside. She grins. The screaming starts not soon afterwards, and she makes her way to the shuttle. She flies her way up through the city, retraces the steps she took so long ago. She bursts into the surface where she can already see riots forming. She finds her way up to her uncle’s penthouse and when she lands on the private shuttlepad she sees her family clustered around her uncle, terror on all of their faces, begging for information and reassurances. Everything is falling apart. How good that she’s learnt how to keep stable footing.

All of them turn to watch her shuttle land, the only shuttle still flying. She opens the door and steps out, walks with all the confidence of someone who learnt how to fly from immortals. They watch her with open mouths as she pushes open the doors and walks through the parting crowd. Zeus hasn’t seen her yet and is ignoring Hera’s tugging on his suit, shouting at Dionysus about something or other, panic on his face. Persephone feels a thrill in her stomach. Her uncle had always prided himself on being hard to kill, but hard isn’t impossible. He forgot that sometimes those closest to you are the most dangerous. Persephone pulls out her gun and walks towards destiny.

#the mechanisms #long reads #long post #The mechanisms band

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popatochisssp · 5 years

Text

Fur a Good Time, Call... 11/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus & Reader, HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus Chapter Warnings: mild dissociative episode

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Stumble

Ahh, the best and worst part of your job.

“Careful, sweetheart,” you chuckle, “Princess is a big girl and she’s really excited, so don’t let go, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t,” Andrea assured you, holding tight to the leash with her little hand.

It was a truly adorable sight to see, the bright-eyed little girl with a million-watt smile and curly, grade-school pigtails hugging the neck of a dog twice her size.

You weren’t worried about the size difference.

Princess had been with you for a year and you (almost) couldn’t think of a sweeter, gentler dog, no matter how loud her whiny barks were or how ‘mean’ she looked.

Somebody had finally come in who agreed: Andrea latched onto the pit bull within minutes of walking into the shelter and absolutely insisted she was the one—they could both be princesses, together!

Your heart may have melted, just a teeny tiny bit, when she’d said that, and since her mother was now up at the front desk with you filling out the adoption form, you think you’re not the only one.

Delilah dutifully jots down her information with her neatly manicured hand. The sharply dressed lady had honestly intimidated you a little at first, but when she had smiled down at her daughter and explained that they’d come in to find Andrea’s first doggy, your nerves had settled.

“This’ll be good for her,” she says to you, almost absently. “She’s been wanting a friend.”

“Princess, too,” you agree. “I bet they’ll be besties in a week.”

Delilah chuckles. “Aren’t they already?”

Looking at the two of them now—the hugs and face-licks and the tappa-tappa-tappa of excited claws on the tile—you figure she’s probably right on the money.

Watching the slightly bigger family walk out of the shelter, you barely even feel the pang of missing Princess, knowing she’s going off to a great home and a great life.

…But the pang is still there.

You pull out your phone and quickly send off a text, hoping to alleviate the feeling.

You: Hey, I miss our son, send me a pic.

Sans doesn’t keep you waiting for long.

PUNbelievable: [IMG-54]

The picture makes you smile.

Buddy’s handsome face takes up your screen, his blue eyes wide and sad-looking.

He only ever makes that face when he’s angling for food and trying to look extra cute. It has an embarrassing success rate with you, and you’ve caught Sans giving in more than once, so you know it’s not something Buddy’s going to stop doing anytime soon.

The longer you look at the picture, though, the more you realize…

You’ve seen it before

That’s kinda surprising. Sans almost always sends you new ones, candids of whatever your boy happened to be doing at the time you asked.

Then again…

You: Can’t even be bothered to go find the dog on your day off?

Sans got a lot of days off since he wasn’t…y’know, actually employed. He always seemed to use them well, though, for sleeping in or watching a ton of TV.

Naturally, you weren’t about to judge. That was pretty much how you spent your days off on the…very, very rare occasion you took them.

You made sure to tack a winky face onto your text, just in case Sans thought you were mad at him or something.

PUNbelievable: nah sleeping

PUNbelievable: sorry

You smile and add a kissy face to your reply.

You: Don’t let me keep you from your important business! See you later!

PUNbelievable: k

You put your phone away and get back to work.

You’re not sure why you feel weird about it.

You still feel weird almost an hour later.

You’ve been granted the great privilege of socializing (read: playing with) a whole litter of kittens while their formerly stray, now spayed mom watches you cautiously. You’re literally covered in adorable, fluffy babies who leap and chirp and fall all over themselves when you shake feathery toys for them and it’s cute beyond words, it really is!

But…you’re distracted.

“I’m being dumb, aren’t I?” you ask the poofy little angel perched on your knee.

He looks at you with his big beautiful eyes and mews, long and high-pitched.

You sigh. “Yeah, I’m being dumb.”

You knew you were.

It was only a text: tone was notoriously impossible to read through text, so getting bent out of shape over one was just…unnecessary.

“Sans just texts like that sometimes,” you told the kitten. “It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”

The kitten doesn’t even look up this time, busy kneading at your leg with his sharp little claws, but you think you’re reassuring yourself a little.

Sans does just sort of…text that way sometimes. No punctuation, short words, clipped answers, you’ve gotten it from him before.

Maybe not…since you started dating…but it wasn’t like it was some new thing, either.

It was hardly some sort of sign that Sans was annoyed at you or…or suddenly disinterested or something.

The very thought made you laugh a little.

As much as you still didn’t quite understand what Sans liked about you, he’d made it pretty clear by now that he did like you, kind of a lot. The hugs and cuddles and nuzzles you exchanged near-constantly were proof of that.

You felt the same way about him, and even though you were now keenly feeling your skeleton’s absence, you also felt a little better.

“He’s just sleeping in,” you decide. “I’ll text him again later when he’s actually awake.”

You shift, moving the hand that’s holding the cat toy and about six kittens try to pounce on it at once. Every single one of them misses, colliding with each other in a flurry of protesting peeps and wiggles.

Stars, now this is what you’re supposed to be focusing on!

You get your phone back out and start recording the play session. Best case scenario, you’ve got something ultra-cute to put up on the shelter’s website, and worst case scenario, you’ve got something fun to send to your two favorite skeletons later.

Only a minute and a half of video ends up being taken. You stop the recording when another text pops up on your screen.

PUNbelievable: i lied

You’re frowning, sitting up so fast that you actually topple a kitten over and it mews at you plaintively.

You scoop it back up and instinctively apologize to it, and by the time you look back, you have another message…and another, and another.

PUNbelievable: not sleeping, bad day

PUNbelievable: didn’t want you to worry

PUNbelievable: shouldn’t lie though

PUNbelievable: sorry

…So…you weren’t being dumb.

You’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

You: Are you okay?

PUNbelievable: sure

Well, that’s not a very comforting answer.

You’re actually a little startled by how powerful the sudden urge to drop everything and go find Sans is.

It makes you feel kinda silly again. He’s your boyfriend, but he’s a grown skeleton, it’s not like you need to check up on him…

…but you want to.

You want to go check on him and make sure he’s okay, even if you don’t need to.

It’s what Sans would do if you were the one having a bad day.

That’s probably why, in spite of the fact that you have about a dozen other actually work-related things you could be doing right now, you herd the kittens and their mom back to where they belong and go looking for your manager.

You find her in the back, doing paperwork that looks like payroll. She greets you, which you return a little hesitantly.

Don’t pussyfoot, you scold yourself.

The thought only reminds you how much you want to be with Sans right now: you’re still covered in cat hair and a joke about that would’ve killed.

“Hey, uh…I was wondering if it’d cause any problems if I left a little early today. Like…like a half-day?”

Your manager frowns, looking concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, no, yeah, it’s…everything’s fine,” you’re quick to assure her. “I just…there was something kind of personal that I wanted to…check on.” The excuse sounded even lamer out loud than it did in your head, and you resist the urge to wince. “It’s not an emergency, I can stay if you need me, it’s not—”

“Would this be a skeleton sort of ‘personal’?”

You freeze like a deer in the headlights at the sly look on her face.

“Uh…I…it might be…?”

Your relationship with Sans wasn’t a secret, but you hadn’t exactly advertised it either.

Or…maybe you had?

The two of you were still new and you could get kinda…kissy. You were under no illusion that that was anything even remotely approaching subtle.

But it’s also just now occurring to you that you never looked up any rules in regards to workplace romances. You weren’t exactly coworkers, Sans was just a really dedicated volunteer, but that was such a technicality.

Were either of you in trouble…?

Your manager laughs in your face. “Oh god, you look so nervous! Relax, you’re fine.”

……Phew.

“I knew you two would work well together,” she says. “I can’t say I knew you’d work that well together, but I’m not surprised either. You’re a good fit.”

Oh. This is awkward.

You feel your face heat and almost wish you were in trouble.

“Thanks,” you say curtly, eyes glued to the floor.

Your manager seems perfectly aware of your embarrassment and smiles indulgently. “Look, you do a lot of good work around here and that hasn’t changed, bony boyfriend or no. We all appreciate it, but you’re allowed to do things for yourself sometimes, too.”

You look up a little hopefully. “So…?”

“You’ve still got a ridiculous amount of paid time racked up and we’ll survive around here for half a day without you. Go smooch a skeleton. Next time you want to play hooky, though,” she adds, “let me know a little sooner?”

“Right. I will. Yes.” You turn to leave, almost forgetting to say, “Thanks!”

If she says something in reply, you don’t hear it.

You’ve got Sans on the brain and you aren’t going to feel right until you see him.

The brothers’ house is quiet when you get there and let yourself in.

You know Papyrus’ routine these days almost as well as you know your own, and you know he’s got a full class schedule today without much time in between. He isn’t home and won’t be until pretty late, but Sans and Buddy are here.

Or they should be, anyway. You don’t get an answer from either when you announce yourself and a quick peek into the backyard shows it’s empty, so you head upstairs.

Buddy’s fluffy black and white head lifts from the floor as soon as you reach the top, his ears perked and his tail slowly wagging at the sight of you.

“Hey, there you are, Buddy.”

His tail wags faster. You notice he’s laying down right in front of a door and think you have your answer about where Sans is.

“You want in?” you ask, walking over. “You wanna see Sans with me?”

Buddy springs to his feet, looking up at the round doorknob—an impassable barrier to his pawed self.

Well, what was the point of opposable thumbs if not to let dogs into rooms?

You turn the knob and no sooner is the door open than Buddy’s scampering inside, taking a running leap up onto Sans’ bed.

Sans is there, too, placidly sitting on the edge of the mattress and you smile to finally be able to see him for yourself.

You hope you’re not being clingy or weird coming over unannounced like this.

You just…really wanted to see him.

He looks alright, at least physically. He’s not really dressed, just wearing a black pair of sweatpants that must be his pajamas, but he doesn’t seem particularly bashful as he looks over at you.

He doesn’t seem particularly…anything at all, actually.

Even as Buddy sniffs along his spine in dog-greeting and lays down behind him, Sans’ skull is entirely blank of expression and that…doesn’t sit well with you.

“Hey, babe,” you say gently, in human-greeting. “How’re you doing?”

“…bad. why are you here?”

You think normally, that frank of an answer might’ve hurt your feelings. But you’ve heard this distant tone in Sans’ voice before.

“I took a half-day. Wanted to see you,” you admit with a sheepish grin.

You’re not sure what kind of reaction you expect Sans to give you from that, but you think you must’ve expected something because you’re surprised when you get absolutely nothing.

Sans just…stares at you, his red eye-light tracking you, but even that looks flat somehow.

Empty.

You definitely know what this is now.

That time before…when Sans told you everything…he was like this then, too, all spaced out and distant. Back then, you’d only been his friend and had no idea what to do to help him. This time…

Well, you still had no idea what to do, but now you were his datemate. You were confident that it was your place to help if you could…even if you were still just going to be winging it.

You come a little closer, asking, “Can I sit?”

“……sure.”

You sit down next to him. You try for a close yet respectable distance, but almost immediately slide right up against him thanks to the dip his weight causes in the mattress.

Sans may be all bones, but they’re big bones, with considerable heft.

It’s a fact you’re very aware of with most of those bones on display right now, pressing up against your side.

You don’t let it distract you.

Sans seems okay with touch so you reach out, settling your hand on his femur.

“I gotta say, it was kind of a relief to cut out early today,” you tell him. “It was just an overload of cute in there, all day, it was relentless.”

You tell Sans about your day, the saga of Princess and Andrea, and then being swarmed by a ferocious gang of fluffy kittens.

You don’t really expect Sans to interject or respond to you, and he doesn’t beyond the occasional grunt or huff, but he does angle his skull towards you and just sort of…watch you talk.

Whether he’s actually processing or retaining the words you’re saying, you have no idea, but you also don’t think it matters if he is—as long as he’s hearing you and knows you’re with him, you think that’s probably a good thing.

You also think of the other times Sans has texted you, ‘sounding’ weird but with totally believable excuses about why he wasn’t at the shelter that day when he should’ve been, or what he was doing on his day off.

You wonder how many of those times he was actually having an episode like this one and just went it alone.

He let you in this time, though.

You’re so proud of him for that, and so happy that you can be here for him.

“…Oh, jeez, and uh, heads up, Big Boss definitely knows about us.” You pick up Sans’ hand, holding it in yours to convey your meaning. “I got a really awkwardly maternal…pep talk? I think? Out of it, so I guess we’re fine.”

“mmm.”

“She said to go give you a smooch, actually, but…” You wrinkle your nose. “I think our smooching should be on our terms. I’m gonna kiss you when I want to kiss you, not when our boss tells me to.”

You look up at him. He’s still watching you, still blank, but also…still your very handsome skeleton beau.

“My impulse-control is garbage,” you admit, stretching up towards him. “This isn’t from her, okay?”

“okay,” he says flatly, and you smile.

You press your lips to his cheekbone and turn to nuzzle his face a little for good measure.

He doesn’t return it the way he usually does, but he doesn’t push you away either, and when you settle back down by his side, he moves his arm a little so you can get closer.

You feel like a pretty good datemate right about now.

Somewhere outside, a car alarm goes off.

Sans flinches hard at the noise and even when the car’s owner quickly puts a stop to it, he still looks…pained.

“Sans? Are you okay?”

Beyond the obvious not-okay-ness, you mean.

“…………headache,” he mutters eventually.

You have no idea what a headache feels like with a giant hole in your skull. You’re a little afraid to imagine it, actually.

“Aw, how long, baby?” you ask. “All day?”

Sans shrugs, which you take to mean ‘yeah, more or less,’ and you frown.

“Did you take anything for it?”

“……mmn.”

That was a ‘no.’

“Have you left this room at all? Gotten food?”

“…………”

“Sans?” you prompt.

“…no.”

You push yourself up off the bed.

“Okay, well, that’s not gonna fly,” you decide. “I’ll go get you something. Stay here. …Both of you,” you add as an afterthought, pointing at Buddy.

He’s about as settled onto the mattress as a dog can be, so he just looks at you as if to say, ‘who, me?’

“Yes, good boy.” You plant another quick kiss to Sans’ skull, gentle as can be. “You, too.”

And with that, you leave the room.

You feel a little bad about rummaging around in the brothers’ medicine cabinet. You try not to take any particular note of any bone colognes, bleaches, or anti-anxieties and zero in on a monster-friendly aspirin bottle.

A quick skim of the label says it’s best taken with food, so you pop the bottle in your pocket for now and head down to the kitchen to see what you can make quickly with your minimal amount of skill.

On the way, you shoot Papyrus a quick text asking him to call you if he can, noting that it’s only mildly urgent so he doesn’t worry too much if he can’t. You feel…pretty in control of the situation right now, but you also think you’d feel better if you could at least let Pap know about it.

Sans was your boyfriend, but he was Papyrus’ brother and this…whatever this was, probably deserved at least a call.

Their pantry is well-stocked, as always, but pretty much everything in it has more cooking directions on the packaging than you’re confident with. You switch to the fridge, and find tons of leftovers in tupperware—which is pretty much exactly your culinary speed.

You fish out something that looks and smells like stew and almost just nuke it in the microwave…but you decide to use the stove instead. Wasn’t it supposed to distribute the heat more evenly…or something?

Ugh, more adulting I never learned all the way…

In any case, pouring the soup into a little pot and stirring it on the stovetop made you feel more like you were doing something; being useful.

Until you’ve got someone who can actually talk back to you, you have to take the validation where it comes.

You bless the universe itself for Papyrus because nearly the second you think it, your phone starts to buzz.

You answer it without taking your eye off the stove. “Hello?”

“Hello, Dear Friend!” he exclaims, sounding only a tad frazzled. You hear people shuffling about and talking in the background and think he’s probably in a hallway. “I Have A Brief Lull And I Wanted To Make Sure Nothing Was On Fire. …Or If It Is, That The Proper Response Teams Are Called To The Correct Places!”

“No, no, nothing’s on fire,” you promise, “metaphorically or otherwise.”

“Oh, Good, Metaphorical Fires Are The Worst. Second Only To Philosophical Fires, What Do Those Even Burn, Anyway?”

You have no idea and you tell him as much, “…but listen, I’m at your place. I took the day off ‘cause Sans is…”

Stars, how would you even describe what Sans is right now? ‘Spaced out’ is too light of a description, ‘not himself’ is uselessly vague and slightly ominous…

There’s probably an actual term out there somewhere for this, but you don’t know it, and it’s not as if Sans could really go get properly diagnosed or treated for it.

Luckily for you, this is apparently not Papyrus’ first rodeo, either.

“Ah. He’s Having A Bad Day?”

That was certainly one way to describe it. “You don’t sound too surprised,” you note.

Papyrus sighs. “Sadly, No. These Things Happen. Sans…Goes Away Sometimes. There’s Really Not Much To Do About It, But He’ll Be Back Eventually.”

“That’s…a little reassuring, I guess.” You frown, remembering the last time you saw Sans…‘go away’ like this, and what he was like when he ‘came back.’ “Is…I mean, should I be worried about…after? The last time this happened, uh…I’m pretty sure a panic attack was involved, that’s not…is that normal for one of these?”

“Definitely Not,” Papyrus said firmly. “That Was Probably Triggered By Something Else.”

Like Sans believing for a second that he’d broken your neck? That would likely do the trick.

“Attacks Aren’t Very Common For Sans, In General, I Wouldn’t Worry Too Much About It.”

“Okay. Thank you, Pap, I’ll do my best over here.” Like hell you’d give Sans anything less! “Oh, but hey, I mean…is there anything I…maybe shouldbe doing that I’m not?”

“Well, That Raises The Question Of What You Are Doing, Doesn’t It?”

“Uh…well, mostly so far I’m just…talking to him…touching him a little, like on the arm and stuff. I got it out of him that he had a headache and hadn’t eaten yet, so I’m…I’m heating up some leftover stew and I got some aspirin to go with it. Is that…is that enough?”

You hear Papyrus laugh over the phone, a soft little ‘Nyeh-Heh-Heh.’

“I Don’t Know Why You’re Worried,” he says. “You’re Doing Everything Right. I Have To Go But Clearly, Sans Is In Very Good Hands. I Believe In You, Human! And Continue To Keep The Fires To A Minimum If You Can!”

“Haha, yeah, okay, no problem, Pap. Go learn some more stuff, I’ll see you later.”

Papyrus is truly the monster embodiment of sunshine…or maybe an energy shot.

You get off the phone feeling re-motivated and ready to take on anything!

You finish with the stew, get it in a bowl, and head back upstairs to Sans’ room where two pairs of eyes are on you the second you open the door.

Well…Buddy’s pair, and one magic red light in an eye-socket.

“Found some stew,” you announce, bringing it in. “Or maybe soup? Is there a difference?”

Your answer is, of course, blank stares.

“Yeah, I have no clue either.”

Setting the bowl on the nightstand for a moment, you fiddle with the aspirin bottle and hand a couple tablets to Sans, who takes them even before you ask him to.

You’re starting to remember from last time how weirdly compliant these…episodes? made him act. You still don’t think you like it, but at least it makes taking care of him a little easier.

Sans takes the bowl when you pass that to him, too, and only spends a moment looking at you before starting to eat it.

Satisfied, you plop back down on the bed beside him, reaching back to give the dog a pat for not being too much of a food-hound right now.

You loved dogs, they were such incredible animals. They could be smart enough to read a room and decide the right time to beg for scraps and at the same time, be dumb enough to get stuck in a couch or bark at their own reflection.

Amazing.

A spoon in your face startles you out of your musings.

You blink at it, too surprised to process it for a second, before turning to look up at Sans. The look on his skull, completely devoid of any of the emotional cues you were used to, was absolutely no help but there weren’t many ways to interpret food being held in front of your face.

He wanted you to have a bite, too.

You smile, feeling warm all over, and accept it—you hadn’t had lunch and you were definitely a little peckish.

It was easier not to think about it when you had Something Important to do, but you’d brought Sans his medicine and his food and with your tasks completed, that rich broth smelled far too tempting to turn down entirely.

Over the course of the bowl, you accept another two or three bites, but turn down the rest.

“No, baby, I’m fine, you finish it,” you say to the last one, patting Sans on the arm. “I at least had breakfast this morning.”

Sans doesn’t react to your teasingly chiding tone, but he does finish the stew without protest and lets you take the bowl when he’s done.

“I’ll take care of the dishes real quick,” you say, giving him another kiss on the cheek as you go. “Don’t want Papyrus pitching a fit over a messy sink.”

Papyrus probably wouldn’t be too terribly upset if you just left the dirty dishes in the sink to soak. He’d probably also immediately go wash them himself in spite of his gruelingly long day of classes, which didn’t seem fair to you at all. Better if you just take care of it now and then nobody has to worry about it later.

Besides, what else were you doing? It was your day off!

You keep that thought in your mind when you finish washing dishes and come back to Sans.

“Hey,” you say to Buddy, pointing to the floor. “Down, off the bed, down.”

Buddy, knowing at least one of those words, takes his sweet time stretching and shaking off a little before hopping down onto the floor.

More room for you.

You close the window curtain against the midday sun, kick off your shoes and get on the bed, pulling at Sans like you could somehow budge him if he didn’t want to go. “Come on,” you coax, “lay down with me.”

Sans does without question and you arrange the pillows and blanket to your liking before snuggling up next to him.

“I’m gonna take a nap,” you tell him. “Wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

“……okay.”

You’ve got the day off and Sans is taken care of, and while this isn’t exactly the circumstances you’d imagined for your first time sharing a bed with your boyfriend, you’re not going to waste the opportunity to relax and enjoy not being at work.

Sans is like a skeleton space-heater beside you and you doze off to the thought of all the nuzzles you’re going to give him when he comes back to you.

You wake up…not quite sure where you are.

There’s something soft and plush underneath you and a big hand stroking so gently and pleasantly over your head that you almost don’t want to open your eyes.

You do anyway.

The hand stills as you look up into Sans’ grinning skull from your new place atop his chest.

“hey,” he says.

You couldn’t explain in a million years how, but from just that one word, you know.

You’ve got your Sans back.

“Hey yourself,” you mumble in a rasp, pushing yourself up a little.

You wake up faster when you feel the strange give beneath your hands where there should’ve been…no, not even bone, there should have been a cavity where you were laying.

So, what the hell…?

………

A pillow.

Sans had actually wedged an entire pillow into his ribcage so you’d have something comfy to lay on while you were on top of him.

“I’m gonna be frank here,” you say. “I don’t know if this is adorable or hilarious.”

Sans laughs and you bounce a little with the movement. “can’t it be both?” he asks. “an’ if you’re frank, who am i?”

…Yep, your Sans was back.

You snicker, planting your palm in the middle of his face. “A jerk, apparently. You’re lucky I already knew that!”

Sans grabs your wrist and you blink in surprise as he holds your hand still so he can nuzzle it.

“i am lucky,” he agrees, his single red eye watching you. “thanks for stayin’.”

Your heart thumps hard in your chest. “I…well, of course I stayed. Where…where else was I gonna go?”

“work, if you didn’t take off for me.” Sans looks mildly chagrined. “i didn’t mean to make ya’ do that…”

You scoff. “You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to come see you, so I did.”

Sans doesn’t look particularly comforted.

“Hey, come on,” you insist. “You know me, I never take time off, it’s not like I don’t have the days saved up. I got a nap in and I got to see my favorite skeleton, that sounds like a pretty good use of a day to me.”

Sans stares at you…and then he smirks. “m’tellin’ Pap you said i’m your favorite.”

You laugh and pull your hand back from him. It’s an empty threat and you both know it, but still…

“Okay, you’re right, I take it back: Papyrus is my favorite skeleton.”

“aw, i only got to be the favorite for ten seconds? that’s cold.”

“He’s just my favorite skeleton,” you say, folding your arms over Sans’ chest and resting your chin on them. “You can still be my favorite funnybones. How’s that?”

That one takes an extra moment to process.

Sans’ eye-light is shivering again, warping weirdly out of shape, and you’re definitely going to have to start paying more attention to context to figure this out because you didn’t even say anything humorous that time.

No time to think about it now, though, because Sans is sitting up, his arm coming around your back to hold you against him.

“okay,” he chuckles, “okay, just for that, we’re gonna salvage this half-day of yours.”

You laugh a little. “What?”

“c’mon, your first ditch-day in fifty years—”

“It’s been a couple months?”

“fifty years,” Sans insists. “we can’t just lay in bed all day, let’s go.”

You yelp in surprise when Sans unceremoniously rolls off the bed with you. You’re tensed, clinging to his ribs like handlebars as you wait to thud onto the floor.

There is no thud, of course. It’s a ‘whoomph’ at best when the two of you land on the couch downstairs and Sans starts digging through the cushions for the TV remote.

When he finds it and turns it on, you snort. “So, we’re gonna lay on the couch all day instead?”

“couch date,” Sans shrugs, winking down at you. “it’s my turn to pick, isn’t it?”

…You gotta give him that one, it is his turn.

You roll over to face the screen, snuggling backwards against Sans into the closest thing to a spooning position you can manage. If you leaned your head back, you’d barely be resting it against his sternum, but it’s hardly your fault that he’s impractically huge.

At least you’ve got the pillow in his abdominal cavity to make it more comfortable, plus the decorative couch pillows he graciously shifts around and settles beneath your head and arm.

Sans really is a thoughtful guy, even if he won’t stop giggling about how small you are.

“next time we go somewhere that charges admission, i’m smuggling you in,” he says. “pop ya’ into my ribcage an’ nobody’ll know, two for the price of one.”

The mental image is so stupid that you laugh, too. “I can’t even tell if you’re serious, you actually are that much of a con-artist. For the record, I don’t want to do any crimes, don’t make me do crimes!”

“aww, don’t get worked up about it, i’m just ribbin’ ya’.”

“I’m telling you, Sans, the comedy police are gonna get you one of these days.”

He bends down, nuzzling the top of your head. “visit me in comedy prison. bring me a cake with a rubber chicken baked into it.”

“What?” you laugh. “Why? That won’t help you escape!”

“i’ll serve my sentence fair an’ square, the chicken’s to keep my morale up. help me hendure it.”

You don’t even dignify that with a response.

“hey, if I’m down on my cluck an’ all cooped up…”

Okay, fine!

“How about you just don’t go to comedy prison at all?” you suggest. “It’s not eggsactly all it’s cracked up to be.”

Sans’ deep baritone laugh behind you feels like a gift, a hard-won reward after a rough day and it makes something in your chest sing with delight.

You reach back, swatting lightly at a rib. “Pick something good to watch, funnybones.”

“yes, dear…” Sans sighs, but he also drapes an arm over you as he starts to flick through the channels of daytime television so you know he isn’t as put-upon as he’s acting.

There’s not much on, of course: it’s still daytime programming, which is always a little lackluster no matter how many channels you have to choose from, but neither of you is all that picky.

You end up bouncing around from show to show, catching bits of movies here and there. Some of them you recognize and can give some context to Sans about, and others you’re both completely clueless.

Buddy comes down eventually to join you, laying on the floor in front of the couch. You know you’re anthropomorphizing, but you think he looks a tad annoyed with you for disappearing on him the way you did. Luckily, you can reach him from your spot on the couch and you give the scruff of his neck a good apology scratch so you don’t feel too bad about it and your dog-friend certainly doesn’t try to stop you.

You don’t try to stop Sans, either, when he reaches down to touch you.

It’s perfectly gentlemanly, of course, with nothing untoward behind his idle petting. The feeling of his hands stroking along your body—your arm, your hip, and just once, a bit of your thigh—is nothing but pleasant and you’re happy to lean into his touch and let him leisurely explore you.

It’s nice, a lovely way to spend an evening and that’s exactly what you do: snuggle and watch TV together until the sun goes down.

All three of you look up when the front door opens and Papyrus strides in.

He seems a little surprised to see you but quickly smiles when Sans gives him a lazy, “hey, Pap,” and goes right back to watching TV.

“Hello, Brother,” Papyrus returns, shucking off his messenger bag of books and his fashionable cold weather attire, “Human! I Suppose The Both Of You Have Been Lazing Around All Day While Some Of Us Were Working To Be Productive Members Of Society.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” you freely admit.

“best day ever,” Sans adds, stroking at your arm with his thumb.

He doesn’t turn away from the screen, though, so he misses the little thumbs up Papyrus gives you on the sly that makes your cheeks feel a little hot.

You suppose it could be worse: he could’ve asked for details about why you were spooning his shirtless brother in the middle of the living room, still mostly dressed for work yourself and leaning back against the whole entire king-sized pillow Sans had stuffed behind his ribs.

Papyrus is incredible at rolling with the weirdness, though. The more time you spend with these guys, the more you realize it has to be because he’s seen weirder.

Truly, a harrowing concept.

“Well,” Papyrus proclaims, “If You’re Both Really Such Loafers, I’m Sure You Won’t Properly Appreciate A Lecture On The Merits Of—”

“nope, already tuned out.”

“Sigh. No Point Wasting It Then!”

Without further ado, Papyrus marches over to the couch and shoves Sans’ legs right off of it.

Sans has pretty quick instincts. He catches you against him so you don’t fall off, too, and half sits up, bracing himself against the armrest.

All he says is, “dude,” but you hear the unspoken, ‘what the fuck?’ clear as a bell.

Papyrus just sits down on the newly-freed couch real estate. He bends to give Buddy on the floor a quick pat and then reaches over to swipe the remote.

“You’ve Had Plenty of TV-Time With Your Human, Sans,” he says flippantly. “If You Insist On Corrupting Them With Your Couch-Potato-Ing Ways—”

“i do,” Sans says emphatically, hugging you more tightly to his chest.

“—Then They Should At Least Be Exposed To Some Decent Monster Culture!”

So saying, he changes the channel. No actual programming is playing yet, but there’s a promo on for the special that’s about to air and you recognize it.

“Oh, Napstablook!” The ghost DJ, one of monsterkind’s most prominent artists since coming aboveground. “I love their music!”

“Ah, You’ve Heard Of Them!” Papyrus seems pleased. “You’re Not Completely Hopeless, After All, Then.”

You feel Sans huff out a breath behind you. “didn’t know blook was gettin’ a televised concert…”

“I Only Just Found Out Myself,” Papyrus admits, “But I’m Happy For Them! Nothing Beats The Showmanship Of The Late, Great Mettaton, Of Course, But That Ghost Can Certainly Mix Some Spine-Tingling Tunes, Nyeh-Heh-Heh!”

It’s quiet for a long moment, save for the sound of the television.

You have the feeling that Sans wants to say something, but has to figure out how first so you keep your mouth shut and let him work it out.

“hey,” he says to you eventually. “new date idea. you cool with changing it up?”

Still in your ‘day off, down for anything’ mindset? “Yeah, sure, whatever you wanna do.”

Sans nuzzles the top of your head again, gratefully affectionate, and then turns to Papyrus.

“hey, bro, we’re gonna go to grillby’s, get ‘em some real monster culture. ya’ wanna come with?”

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

#fur a good time call #undertale #fanfiction #sans #papyrus #sans/reader #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #myfic

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obsidiancreates · 5 years

Text

Phone Fic (It is late so I write on phone)

(What's this? Self-indulgent nonsense at past 5 am? You betcha. Also idk how to write Wilford's speech pattern so I just gave up and wrote him normally.)

LavaDestroys was hardly a well-known villain. She was the dark side of a small Tumblr fanfiction writer, not some famous YouTuber or anything like that. She despised this fact, believing that she deserved the attention of thousands, millions even! Obviously she was the most amazing being to walk the Earth, why could other not realize this?

She sat in her throne, surrounded by the bubbling lava of her volcano lair, and pouted. How could she get the attention she wanted?

Hard work? No, Obsidian would have to do that. She could hardly strike out on her own whilst the writer still lived (like she could exist without the writer, yeah sure keep telling yourself that Des). What else? She could...attempt... a hijacking of someone else's appearance? Tempting, but who knows how much strong a more well-known character could be.

Perhaps...a guest appearance on something?

She grinned. That was it. She could guest star somewhere. Perhaps as a villain in a story about Obsidian's silly little OCs (hey, they're less silly than you, LavaDestroys). She wouldn't mind smiting them a bit (they'd kick your ass).

But no...no, she needed something a bit more...of the showmanship variety.

She stood up, grabbing her sword. She knew exactly where she was going.

(Guess what formatting sucks on the mobile version of the website. So this'll just have to do. Time skip, whoooo, oh man I should sleep soon.)

Des strutted up to the front desk. "I'm here to be on Wilford Warfstache's show."

The man at the desk looked up, scowling. His eyes flashed blue behind his glasses, the G on his blue shirt flashing at the same time. "No."

Des scoffed. "Yes, I am. I am sure he has a spot he needs to fill, as his interviewees often do not make it past hair and makeup, or so I have heard. I wish to speak to him, not his secretary."

The man scowled deeper. "I am not a secretary. I'm a highly advanced android who could snap your neck with as little effort as it takes you to breath." He stoop up and leaned over the desk. "Exit the building now. We do not appreciate unexpected guests."

Des raised her sword, ready to fight, and ultimately set fire to, the android.

"Well," a voice said from behind her, drawing the end of the word out by at least five extra L's, "What's going on here?"

Des grinned and turned around. "Ah, Mr. Warfstache, a pleasure to meet you. I was just inquiring of your asstant here as to how I might get a spot on your show."

Wilford grinned back at her, his smile slightly lopsided. It made his mustache look tilted. "Wonderful! My interviewee just had to leave."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I hope to work on his reflexes, he was terrible at Dodge the Bullet. Follow me, just this way to Wafstache Tonight!"

Des smirked triumphantly and followed Wilford, flipping Google off as she passed. He sat back down, still scowling, but he did feel a glimmer of hope. He may not have had admin permissions to kill all the annoying people who walked into the studio, but Wilford more than made up for that fact.

Des really had no idea what she was getting into (but to be honest the writer was just as lost, this was not a planned out fic.)

(Okay I have to sleep now bye.)

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lokilickedme · 6 years

Note

Hello My Lady! Just because you asked, here are my faves of yours: #1 King (no surprise here), #2 Jack (too crazy not to love, and the stream crossing of pretty much all your stories is genius) #3 Chem/BD/TTW/TKH/TWK/can't remember them all. They're all special in their own way! Can't believe it'll be 3yrs soon since I started squatting your page!!! God time goes by fast! I'd like to add a special mention for the Muse Meetings, sooo funny, and a Golden Snowflake to Aleks. Cute little bumkin.

Thank you @fudgemuffinanon! Dear god, has it been that long? Seems like I joined up last year…*sits here blinking at my posts from 2015, wondering how that happened*

**LONG TEXT POST COMING UP**

You drew the lucky straw today my darling, I’m feeling wordy and in the mood to share. A lot of people have asked me over the last couple of years how some of my stuff came about, and you mentioned one that gets a lot of asks.

Lemme tell you something about the Muse Meetings. Way back in 1998 when I got my first computer, one of the very first things I ran across by way of internet fanfiction was a little something called The Very Secret Diaries penned by a writer named Cassandra Claire (who is now professionally published under the name Cassandra Clare). The Very Secret Diaries (which are hilarious, btw) woke something up in me - mainly because, as a lifelong writer who had never allowed anyone to read 95% of my work, I finally realized that yeah, there were other people out there whose brains deviated from the standard in the same way mine did. Her writing style back then (in the Diaries specifically, I’ve never actually read anything else she’s written) was very similar to the way I wrote, and those Diaries were exactly the sort of silly, ridiculous, irreverent thing I’d scribbled in my notebooks for most of my life. And people liked it, she had a huge following based on just those out-of-context glimpses of her characters’ personal thoughts. She was writing behind the scenes thoughts of characters, things that would never make it into books, and it was brilliant. That was the kind of stuff I loved to write but had never given myself permission to show anyone. She was showing hers to people, and they were loving it.

Which gave me the inspiration to not only put my work out there in the public eye for the first time ever, but to stick with my personal writing style (which I’d always assumed wasn’t what other people wanted to read, based on the books I’d been exposed to most of my life). Not change anything. Just do me. And doing me meant writing silly nonsense if I wanted to.

So - The Very Secret Diaries are more or less the inspiration for the Muse Meetings, or at least the official written version of them. I’d always imagined dialogues with my characters outside the confines of whatever story I was working on, but never thought anyone else would be interested in seeing me write it out.

The Diaries made me realize different. Not only were her characters yammering and complaining and snarking at each other (both out of character and in), they were doing it in exactly the way I’d imagined my own characters interacting in the real world. I loved it. Seeing someone else do what I’d always done in my head - and do it in an official, out-there-in-the-public-eye capacity, was a revelation. Finally I was able to give myself permission to write the way I wanted to, without restricting myself to the styles and methods in the books in the family library. It had always been in my head, but now it didn’t have to stay there. I could write proper stories, but I could also write what was going on in the other room, where the reader seldom gets to peek. And other people besides myself might like it because hey, there’s precedent.

That was freeing, and I am grateful to Ms Claire for that.

So, a little history that leads up to how and why I finally started writing out the Muse Meetings:

My first fandoms that I wrote for online were Harry Potter and Star Wars (Kenobi specifically). And yes, way back then (late 90′s - early 2000′s) there were already muse meetings among my characters. I’ve been doing these for a long time, and I wish the out-of-character stuff I’d written back then still existed (my HP stuff bit the dust when The Restricted Section shut down, and my SW stuff was on FF.net for a little while but honestly I don’t remember my user ID there or the titles of the fics, though I have searched…so they’re most likely lost as well). It’s sort of a shame because there were some old Anakin/Obi-Wan muse meetings that you guys would have loved…and the stuff between Remus and Sirius while we were hashing out what was going to be in their next chapter? It still pains me that it’s all lost, but maybe it’s for the best. That was nearly two decades ago, we move on to bigger and (hopefully) better things.

After my urge to write HP fic fizzled out I stopped writing for a while, but there were always muse meetings going on in my head for stories I scribbled mentally. To me they’ve always been more fun than the actual stories, which explains my love for gag reels and behind-the-scenes featurettes for movies (I watch those first, always).

And then I found AO3 - funnily enough, I discovered it while searching the internet for one of my lost HP fics - and I decided to start writing in earnest again. With all those thousands and thousands of fics and endless fandoms, it seemed like the perfect place to indulge my need to share what went on in my head. And as I settled into the MCU and my stories started to grow to include multitudes of characters, those impromptu staff meetings with my muses kept being called to order. Stuff that my characters would never say in the context of their stories got said. Scenarios that were too ridiculous to waste time writing were played out. Arguments and fights and bantering between characters who, in the restrictive confines of their own tales, would never in a million years interact…now they were throwing poptarts at each other (and occasionally knives) while the side characters wandered out of the room to watch TV or raid the fridge or sat in horror as someone’s until-now unassuming wife brandished a melon baller as a weapon.

It was messy and fun and was by far my favorite part of the writing process.

That’s what eventually became the Muse Meetings. You want to know how they escaped my head and became an official thing?

Well I’m gonna tell ya lol

One of my very first friends in here, the fantastic @elvenfair1, was one of my first readers at AO3 and she told me I should post links to my fics at this site called tumblr to bring in a bigger audience. So I opened an account here, followed her, posted some links as suggested, and she and I began messaging back and forth pretty much every night as we wrote our respective fics, bouncing ideas off each other and discussing plot points and brainstorming for character names. And as my characters sassed me and refused to cooperate with what I wanted them to do, I would tell elvenfair what was going on in my head with my dumbass OCs and OFCs and we’d laugh and gripe about trying unsuccessfully to reel in our unruly muses.

And then one night back in 2015 she said “You should post this muse stuff, it’s hilarious.”

You know what the first thing I thought was? Cassandra Claire did it 14 years ago and people loved it. So yeah, I can sure as hell do it if I want. If nobody is interested in it, at least it’ll amuse me and elvenfair and that’s cool enough.

And so I did. I started posting them in here first, then as people started requesting them more I eventually moved them to AO3 in a more structured format. And now you guys have multiple Lokis hurling curses at a bartender and viciously baiting a hapless movie star while teenage versions of two other attendees flirt with unsuspecting OFCs, with an occasional appearance by Thor dropping hints about future chapters and looking for fruit roll-ups. It’s messy, but it’s fun and I’ve always enjoyed writing it as a way to let my brain decompress, especially when one of my “real” stories has hit a roadbump.

Since then I’ve seen countless other professional writers doing the exact same thing - J.R. Ward even posts her own version of muse meetings on her official website AND has a published book (her Insiders Guide) that is almost entirely nothing BUT muse meetings. It’s surprising how many writers actually do this and I sometimes wonder if authors like Poe, Steinbeck, Vonnegut, Tolkien, Gaiman, McMurtry didn’t do it themselves (I’d bet money on McMurtry). Just goes to show there’s not an original idea anywhere in the universe…no matter how much you might believe you came up with it first, someone out there has been doing it for a long damn time before you - and a million more will do it after you :)

Anyway, I haven’t written any muse meetings in a while but they still go on constantly in my head. I get asked about once a week to go back to doing them, and one day I will, when I have time for it. My actual fics are struggling for writing time as it is and I made a conscious decision to weed out the unnecessary stuff in favor of “real work” (yeah right lol)…but yeah, the Meetings are still one of my favorite things and I won’t stop doing them permanently - they’ll be back.

So thank you Cassandra Claire for inspiring me to let them fly…if it weren’t for those whacked-out Diaries, the Muse Meetings would all still be in my head with only one person (me) laughing at them.

#fudgemuffinanon #long post #it's been a while since I got to talk to an adult IRL due to the kids being sick #so here have all the words at once lol

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caloriesout-blog · 5 years

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Previous Diets & Why I Failed

Weight Watchers - WW is a simplication of CICO. Every food serving is a number of points as opposed to calories. Back then I didn't have a smartphone and there was no fancy app. Logging everything was annoying and if something wasn't in the book, I didn't know how to log it. Going out with friends was not easy. I lost 18lbs doing this diet. I started college during this diet and it was hard to think about my food intake and keep up my grades. I quit both the diet and school :(

Nutrisystem - the worst one I did in my opinion. They send you a month's worth of barely edible cardboard for $200 and they say you still need to add fresh veggies and eggs to your diet. Obviously but for a young 20 something, $200 was my whole food budget. No where in their advertising or website said you needed additional meals. Then of course I was obligated to not go out at all because I already spent all my food money. I don't find it sustainable either. After you lose the weight and get off the program, you'll just go back to old habits because you didn't learn anything. I did however lose 23lbs.

The Cabbage Soup Diet - An infamous "detox" diet that is said to make you lose 10lbs in 1 week. You make a huge pot of cabbage soup and eat specific foods each day. If you're still hungry, you just eat the cabbage soup. The worst day was the bananas & milk day--I just wanted to throw up. I did lose 12lbs in one week, but at a cost. I was tired and had 0 energy that whole week and ended up gaining the weight back. What really happened was a huge, unhealthy caloric deficit that I didn't prepare myself for. Humans don't need detox diets. If you have a functioning liver, then you're detoxing right now.

Eating at home + Jillian's 30 Day Shred - After the Cabbage Soup Diet, I thought eating only at home is the healthiest way possible. Then I'll just exercise with this insanely popular video at the time. I lost 10+ lbs doing this, but eventually I hit a plateau. No matter how hard I worked out, I could not lose more weight. The reason? Well I didn't exercise portion control or even think about the amount of oil I was using when cooking. Isn't that silly? I understand now that after every 10-15lbs lost, I need to recalculate my TDEE.

The 6-Day Body Makeover - I'd say this is your standard "magazine diet" in which some celebrity professional has a groundbreaking weightloss strategy for you. First you take a quiz answering unscientific questions like "Do you look at food and gain weight? Yes or No?" Then you get matched with a body type and then you get a meal plan for your body type. The meal plan consists of 6 small meals where you eat painfully low cal snacks. I did lose weight but I don't remember how much I lost. I just find the snacking part really difficult when you have a 9-5 job. And the food was boring.

Calories In < Calories Out - well now CICO isn't a diet--its how every living creature's body functions. But in this case, I mean I did the popularized version of CICO: eat whatever you like, but 500 calories less than your TDEE per day so you can burn 1lb a week. So I did this for a long time and lost 40lbs--the most I ever lost, but somewhere along the way, I got off track. And here's why: I kept eating the same fast food--just less of it. I didn't focus on veggies and protein. Ofc I was happy I could still eat pizza and snacks but I wasn't providing my body with healthy food to feel full and satiated. I also wasn't exercising enough. I just did 15 minutes on the elliptical a couple times a week. I know people lost the weight they wanted by doing it my way and without exercise at all, but I eventually succumbed to my food addiction. The thing about doing CICO on fast food is that as your TDEE shrinks, the portions do not and it was hard to adjust as I lost weight.

Reflecting on my diet choices in the past, I realized that most of them are all about money making and if people lose weight, that's just an added bonus to advertise on it. The other diets are based on bad logic and wives tales that made their way into the minds of struggling people such as myself. Well, aside from CICO.

All of the diets I did except CICO always had me thinking "I have to eat like this forever?" It was upsetting and contributed to my lack of putting my health first.

So what's different for me now? Well I'm still going to be doing calorie counting with CICO and eating 500 less than my TDEE. However, there will be less sugary snacks and fast food, but there will times I can indulge within my calorie limit. As well as attending the gym and swimming. I do believe the food aspect of weightloss is more important than exercise, but exercise is also needed to be a healthy human being.

#dieting #weight loss

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self-shipper-snowdrop · 5 years

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Welcome to my blog!

Nice to meet you all! I’m just a silly girl who really loves her f/os, and finally decided to make a blog and join the self-shipping community. I was really excited that I wasn’t alone in my self-shipping and I was super happy to find this community! I hope we can get along!

♡ A little about me ♡

♥︎ I go by Elizabeth, Red or Silently. But I’m also okay with being called Lizzy! If you want to give me some other nickname, then feel free to run it by me!

♥︎ My self-insert character is named Bronwen, so that’s what all my f/os call me. Some of my f/os call me Bunny or Bird.

♥︎ I prefer fluffy and romantic content, or really anything sappy- especially weddings, engagements, love confessions, anything cheesy. But when I’m struck with the mood, I’ll write some angsty stuff- even though you’ll see me follow it up with something extra sappy not too long after. What can I say, I don’t like fighting with my babes, lol.

♥︎ I have… a lot of f/os. I definitely don’t mind sharing though. I treat every relationship like it’s own AU, so they happen ‘independently’ of one another that way. Thusly it doesn’t bother me that others have the same f/os. You all are adorable anyways! I wouldn’t want to scare anyone away by being selfish, anyways.

♥︎ Rarely I’ll write a mega self-indulgent piece where a bunch of them spend time with me, but that’s only when I have really bad days.

♥︎ I’m a bisexual girl. I’m also probably the most feminine person on the planet, so my self insert is, surprise surprise, the girliest and most feminine girl in existence. I especially love victorian dresses, Lolita styles, and 1950s-type clothes (I even own a few rockabilly style swing gowns). Due to personal reasons I feel very dehumanized and panicked when I’m defeminized, so as a result, my self inserts are pretty much always all dolled up. So don’t be surprised to see my self insert running around n petticoats and heels 24/7, lol.

♥︎As a result I’d really appreciate it if no one comments on my s/i’s clothing or calls it impractical. Trust me, I know it is, but I really can’t handle being defeminized due to emotional trauma.

♥︎ I’ll probably reblog more stuff than write, but I do adore writing with all my heart- especially about my f/os.

♥︎ My messages and inbox are always open. Wanna gush about your f/o? Go for it, I’ll gush over how cute you guys are! Wanna talk? Sure, I’m a slow responder but trust me, I’m always happy to! Need to vent? I’m happy to listen, give advice or whatever you need. I’m also happy to make friends so don’t be afraid to talk to me.

♥︎ I Roleplay/RP! Both with OCs and self inserts! I usually RP on a website called Quotev, as I have groups and rules already established there, but I’m chill going to Discord as well. Usually I RP love/romance, but I’m open to whatever. Usually the way I do it is the ‘I play your love interest you play mine’ style. If anyone is interested, please message me! Also yes, I am saying this because I am 1000% down for self-indulgent self-shipping storylines. I’m also open to sending people writing samples if they’re curious to my style!

♥︎ I do draw, but my drawings are terrible so please be kind to me, lol.

♥︎ My f/o and fandom list has it’s own special tag, which can be found in my description. Some of my f/os are dumpster fires or overall just bastards, but they’re my dumpster fires to please be nice.

♥︎ This is a side blog! Thusly I can’t like anything, just reblog stuff and all that jazz. I’ll only give out my main via messages, since I don’t really want my sis or friends to judge me ^^; (this is basically my safe space)

-DNI-

This is going to be short but I have a few types of blogs that I would prefer not to interact with me.

♥︎ Please refrain from interacting if you are a discourse-centric blog. Once again if you interact from your main (assuming it doesn’t have a lot of discourse stuff) or just your self-ship blog, then that’s fine. I just don’t want to be involved for the sake of my own mental health since I find it very draining. This includes ALL kinds of discourse, not just self-shipping related discourse.

♥︎ Please do not interact if you are a fan of or support Onision. This probably sounds stupid and hyper specific but his videos and channel have caused personal harm to me so if you support him then please don’t interact with me. I don’t want to hear about him, and this is my safe space, so I’d rather just avoid it for both our sakes.

♥︎ Please don’t interact if you’re here to police how I ship or question the validity of my personal traumas. I know most people probably won’t, but I really don’t need that. I’ve been through a lot and just don’t need that, and I shouldn’t have to prove myself to anyone. Anything I share will be tagged but if you’re coming in to try and say I’m a liar, please leave. I deal with that enough in real life because of where things took place, so I don’t need that here.

♥︎ If you are anti-recovery or otherwise try to push for people not to recover from past traumas/etc, please don’t interact. I try very hard every day to heal and become the best person I can after everything that I’ve been though, as well as to manage my symptoms and recover, and people who try to push an anti-recovery agenda make me extremely uncomfortable. I am doing the best I can and I am not perfect, but I don’t want to be a victim of my past and the resulting PTSD forever, so if you push an anti-recovery agenda I don’t think we should interact. Please don’t take this as a personal attack because it’s not. I just feel uncomfortable with stuff like that so I don’t think we should interact if you’re one of these people.

Obviously I can’t stop you from interacting, since that’s not how the internet works, these are just the groups that I would prefer avoided my blog and posts if possible. I have nothing against anyone as a person, I just think it would be best for both our sakes if we just avoided one another, especially in the final case listed.

That should be pretty much everything! I hope we can all get along, and I hope everyone here has a great day!

Don’t forget- your f/os love you, forever and always ♥︎ happy shipping!

#new blog #self shipping #self ship community #about me #my introduction post

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youmightaswell · 5 years

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Die!

Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress?

I have secrets. Nothing so awful, but just weird stuff. This is the most benign of recent things that have been bothering me. So I figured I’d start with this. A sort of mental amuse bouche, if you will.

I also have a burning desire to out myself. To free myself from self-blackmail. I tell myself that I will not bully myself into feeling bad and worrying someone will find out my indiscretions; I don’t negotiate with terrorists, even if the terrorist is myself.

So here is some recent weirdness I need to off my chest.

I guess it all started around the same time with two things converging.

The first one was that my friend Karina told me she is getting married in September and to save the date. Normally I hate weddings, but this one will be fun. It’s her second marriage and her fiance is the best guy she ever dated. I love him. He is cute, funny, super successful and a chef to boot. You’ve seen him on television. It’s being held in a cool hotel and is small so I’ll know most of the people there. I even have a date: my friend of 30+ years is going to go with me. He is going through a bad divorce so he is single and lives right by the place.

Sure, I’m me so I am also a bit sad. Like where the fuck is my guy? When’s my second marriage with a guy far better than the first? Where’s my huge ring and huge dick and fancy new apt?

But I digress.

So Karina texted me a dress she liked. She wanted something not too weddingy and “edgy”. The dress, though, was a one-of-a-kind she tried on from an Israeli designer to the tune of $4,000. She could afford it but it just seemed silly to spend so much on a dress. She was hoping to find an alternative, and quick. So, curious, I started researching to see what was out there. I found a few great ones – midi white dresses with lace but that are more cool evening dress than formal gown. Anyway, over the next few weeks she’d text me others she likes and back and forth it went. I had wedding dresses on the brain. She still hasn’t decided on which to wear but is close to a winner. Me? Well, that’s for later in the story.

Concurrently I was excited because I had just found a website about two months ago that has incredibly cheap shit. I was reticent about ordering something because those wacky Chinese-based sites can be very hit or miss. But I read the online reviews and finally ordered a tassel bikini which upon arrival became my favorite swimsuit ever!

Soon it became compulsive. I found a 20% off code and ordered a few other bikinis. As previously noted I do not need any bikinis. I own about 45 swimsuits now. I worry that I can’t stop the collecting process. See? Harmless but nutso.

Most came to about $8. I soon tried dresses, tops, stickers, earrings.

The site posts a link to new ware arrivals daily. I’d eagerly wake and race to the computer to see if anything new was posted that I’d just love. I still can’t stop doing it. Thankfully most of the stuff doesn’t fit right and gets returned promptly. Still, I’d say I spent about $1200 in total in the last two months. Not anything horrible, but still, behavior I need to monitor.

Most of the stuff on the site is cheesy but there are a bunch of gems as well.

Shortly after I began my addiction, I bought two dresses I had absolutely no need for, but luckily when Karina alerted me of her impending wedding I was excited I might get to wear one of the two of my cheap, yet stylish dresses to the event. Serendipitous, no?

[As an aside do you like either of these for me for a fairly casual wedding? Which is your fave? They will be coupled with black open-toed Louboutins that I’m wearing in this bday picture– and and aside to the aside, the lace bodysuit i’ wearing in that pic was $14 from the same cheapo site.

I love it and got so many compliments on it at my bday dinner.]

This?

But then I took this one step further – a step into what might be considered dysfunctional, bordering on pathetic.

I found a white delicate dress with a mesh and sequin overlay that I loved. I thought to myself that if I were to get remarried I’d want to wear it. I would never spend thousands and probably not even hundreds on a wedding dress. If I were to ever get married I’d do so on a beach with like 4 people there so I’d want something to wear that was cute and throwaway – you know, like my first husband.

I obsessed over this dress. Probably a combo of being jealous Karina gets to have a big day in a white fancy dress and my desire to shop (cheaply) until I drop. I visited this dress online daily for a few weeks. I read every review and looked at every post. (People are encouraged to post pics of themselves in items they bought for bonus points towards discounts.) This dress seemed to fit everyone so well. A few people bought it for their bachelorette parties or their rehearsal dinners. One wore it to her court wedding.

So I began rationalizing: it’s summer, maybe I’d be invited to a gala? Maybe some sort of fancy charity event? Further rationalization: It’s so cheap – just $22 with my discount that even if it sat in my closet doing nothing for years it wouldn’t be a hardship. It couldn’t hurt to just buy this white, mock-wedding dress to try on, could it?

It arrived so quickly! I felt like I was doing something wrong and bad unpacking it so of course it was titillating. It wasn’t like I was setting up appointment to Vera Wang’s bridal atelier and trying on dresses for a fake wedding. I wasn’t regaling folks with the tale of how I met my phantom boyfriend who lives in Canada. This was harmless and different. Indulging a weird need in myself I hadn’t realized I had, but that felt so good.

And so it turns out this dress looks amazing on me. It’s sexy and demure all at the same time. I tried it on and walked around my house, too scared to snap a picture, for fear someone would see me in this white fancy dress and ask what the occasion was. Never mind that I live only with the dog, and she has witnessed far weirder.

But as you know sometimes a small thing can be a gateway to bigger things.

The site suggests other items similar to the ones you purchased that you rated highly.

And lo! Turns out there is a long gown with a train that is the same exact dress but in gown form. What is this fresh anxiety I feel? Well, now that I made peace with the fact I bought a knee-length white dress with fantasies of a beach wedding, I was seguing into fantasies about wearing an even more formal gown.

And yup, I bought that too. And yup, it fit amazingly. Like seriously this dress (okay, so now there are two dresses – judge if you want!) was made for me. Sadly there is no rationalizing this one away. There is simply no event I can be asked to attend that it would be appropriate attire for – except my own wedding.

So now I keep touching them in the closet. I keep peering at them sort of hidden among the more mundane work-a-day dresses, my two dirty little secrets.

This holiday weekend I got home from a barbecue and later after I had bathed, had nothing to do. I found myself putting on and wearing my gown for hours.

Yesterday I found myself casually (actually rather intensely for about two hours) looking on the internet for a blusher-length head piece that would go perfectly with The Dress’s flowery pattern. (FWIW: found one but didn’t buy it. Yet.)

Then this weekend in the NYT Vows column the wedding of a Lyme sufferer was highlightedand featured her in an amazing fringe skirt for her wedding. I mean I have the Lyme and the skirt, so where is my fucking husband?

I did confess all this weirdness to Yale and he told me to come down and we should just watch movies while I wear my gown. But I’m too scared somehow I’ll ruin it. I told him I hope I die soon so I can be buried in it. He suggested with no mockery that I should add that directive to my will.

So there you go.

For all you know I could be typing this very entry while wearing the full-length glory.

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