#Excuse the poor quality its all i had the energy for

[ennablue]

A text that i developed during Yotha and Faifa's chapters.

To much energy drinks + scattered thoughts= this

Emotional child neglect and its representation in Petfect 10 liners

Child emotional neglect is defined as the failure of one or both parents to respond adequately to the emotional needs of the child.

The mother didn't choose to stay with her other children (and the other one was taken away for the most disgusting reasons), she has kept one of them separated from the others, the father is emotionally absent for Yotha and Newton because he is still screwed by the divorce, the mother abandons Faifa even though she lives with him and then she leaves him with his father without looking back…

In short, the mother is the main cause, but the father doesn't help either. Because attitudes like the following one…

do not help your children overcome their problems/trauma. Not talking about a problem makes it even worse and that's how things explode, because no one talks about it!

Feeling invisible to their caregivers, these children learn to repress their emotions , which often results in a constant sense of rejection.

This can be seen every time Faifa hides his true emotions or when Yotha represses his love (romantically and platonically, cause he avoids making friends much more than the average introvert) and hides it behind the walls he has built.

When a child does not receive attention, quality time, acceptance or empathy, he or she may experience a deep sense of disappointment, anger, betrayal and loneliness.

Disapointment about the situation/their parents:

Just look at the false masks they are putting on at the end of this scene, how they are avoiding each others eyes because of the pain they're hidding behind their lies. Faifa lying with that fake smile and Yotha with that seemingly indifferent, but sad and lost look.

Anger + betrayal:

I always get the feeling that Yotha, despite loving his brother, at times has resented him for being the one who had left (for leaving him behind) and at other times, I think he hated him for being the one who had "taken his mother".

In that scene he does not believe that Gun is the one who has chosen to stay away from him, everything points to the fact that he believes it is Faifa's fault (as if he assumes that he is the one who “steals” the people he loves or at least, the one everyone chooses over him. Or just because when they were kids they didn't get a say in who stays with mom and who stays with dad and thought that Faifa was doing the same).

At the same time, although Faifa also loves his brother, the fact that his mother has a marked favoritism towards him also makes me believe that there are grudges towards Yotha on his part, after all, he had to destroy himself so that his brother's trauma “would be overcome” (which I don't believe, because as we can see, all the brothers should go to theraphy individually and as family).

Then, we would have Yotha's hatred towards his mother for taking his brother and returning him wounded, for leaving him behind along with Newton, for hurting his father and for breaking up all the family members (but especially Faifa's part, because the opinion that matters most to him on the matter is Faifa's, but as we know, the two brothers never talk sincerely about their wounds).

Faifa also feels the same way, as can be finally seen (because he's tired of excusing her actions) in the last chapters.

(Someane should give him permission to kick that bitch's ass!!).

By the way, another reason to hate the mother would be the fact that she'd only just met Gun and is already calling him son and paid more attention to him than she ever had to Faifa. My heart sinks when I see the poor guy's face at his mother's actions...

Bitch, how can you call yourselve a mother!?!?

Loneliness:

Yotha was living with his father and brother, but still alone. Faifa was abandoned while living with his mother and then, when he moved back, even with the others around he had no one (everyone was focused on their own pain).

This situation may result in two troubling patterns of emotional functioning (these are sometimes mixed).

1) The child may turn inward

Very negative about their life (pessimists)/themselves (low self-esteem)

Yotha:

Faifa:

Tirelessly seek love and recognition from others, where any form of appreciation or belonging may seem preferable to indifference.

On one hand we have a brother who begs for love, helping everyone and not being able to reject them (he doesn't want to make anyone feel unloved/despised, like he's been made to feel).

Furthermore, it can also be seen in his initial interactions with his mother how he also settles for crumbs of love from her.

2) The child turns his attention outward

May camouflage his insecurity with overconfident, arrogant or aggressive attitudes, using these defenses to hide his most painful feelings.

Overconfident:

Well... just every time Faifa acts this way.

Arrogant/aggresive:

Every single one of Yotha's fights and the attitude he has to keeping people away (you know, the one that makes him seem like an assasin...)

In summary, we can say that Faifa and Yotha are both one face of the same coin (child neglect) and they should tell their mother to fuck off (especially for Faifa's sake), yell at their father and tell him to get his shit together, kick Newton a little bit (cause he didn't act like a old brother), and finally, the siblings should go to individual and family therapy.

If you come this far, thank you for reading my nonsense!!

[chris-continues]

A Strange Encounter…

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Cyberpunk Edgerunners AU (Trigun)

Vash The Stampede/Reader

WORD COUNT: 740

Synopsis: you encounter a strange man amidst the bar you lounge around. He gives you a job offer..

The usual thrum of boisterous customers fills the Afterlife, the staccato tapping of your nails against the counter is partly what keeps you sane. The buzzing of the overheard lights, drunkards wrapping their arms around unsuspecting individuals,

Yet here you were. Alone.

Bass boosts with boisterous fun, some small girl causing a racket in showcasing the newest chrome in exchange for excited jeers and cheers of some sleazy men she’d catch the attention of.

“..poor thing, you know?”

A man sits at the barstool beside you, blonde hair tinged to different shades under the colored lighting of the club. A royal blue, as of now. His eyelashes flutter as his head cocks over to the girl, his eyes trailing after your previous gaze.

“Eh”, you shrug, “It’s how things are. Surely, you should know that?” You can feel your voice edging further into a drawl, observing him more. Big red jacket, large collar. Pretty plain. He’s a relatively organic guy save for his bionic arm, the ports available at his neck standard with no crazy enhancers. “Or.. not.” Your eyebrows furrow at this revelation.

He chuckles at that, “Haha, maybe!” Hand moving to scratch the scruff of his neck, ruffling his undercut in practiced fidgeting. “..just, tryna start something.” His gaze drifted from the sad, lone cup he held and up to you once more, brandishing a look you couldn’t quite place.

Something’s off about him.

You aren’t sure what.

…you can’t quite place.

A stagnant pause fills the gap in your sad excuse of a conversation. Words didn’t hold much value here, that was a common fact. Business did. Missions did. Money did. Take action, not a lame deal or quirky promise.

“Something?” You turn to him more, his previously despondent, solemn gaze flickering once more. Mirroring the neon lights surrounding every which way of the bar, reflecting in its pulsing energy that filled Night City as a whole. He piques your curiosity. Despite his lack of chrome and rather.. not immature qualities, but something remains. No guns blazing machine gun, gone crazy potential cyber psycho- just a guy.

He perks up noticeably, continuing. “Yeah! Got a few pals, and we’ve heard some of your work is… good..?” He trails off once more, gauging you for a reaction.

A job offer. Your eyes blink, fingers drumming against your leg as you take it into consideration. Work had been running low for you recently and you probably needed the gig, and.. the guy didn’t seem to untrustworthy. His hair shone a slight red with the change in hue of the lights, sweet smile painting his lips as his warm eyes looked to you expectantly. “I know it’s a bit much, but we’ve been looking into you for a few weeks and.. yeah.” He ends awkwardly, clearing his throat and turning his gaze elsewhere momentarily.

Well, there’s nothing better for you,

“I may as well. Sure.” You extend a hand in a formality here- a handshake- a sign of trust, perhaps, as he eagerly takes your hand in his and beams with a sort of ecstatic expression that’s rare here.

Strange. But not.. not entirely unwelcome.

“Great to hear! I’ll see you here tomorrow..?” He fidgets with his hands once more, holding them up to explain himself further in a slight panic, “Ah- they’re not all here today. We gotta call a bit ahead of time sometimes for hanging out here.”

Mm. Fair enough.

In Night City, everything was constantly moving. A never ending, unpredictable and most definitely not merciful cycle of perpetual turmoil and terror that consumed every resident. Desensitized.

What you were to be called for? That was probably no different. You worked as a getaway driver for said operations, having installed a built in nav system for yourself thanks to your absolutely horrible sense of direction beforehand- it took some saving up and not so legal deeds, but who really cared about the law down here anyway? In order to truly survive a few rules had to be broken, and you never… truly harmed anyone. Directly, at least. You minded your business and clients minded theirs, teammates minded theirs. There was no need to pry, that much was a lesson to be had for anyone who question such.

“Details coming in tomorrow?” And eddies, hopefully, you thought to yourself.

He nodded, smile turning sheepish. “I’ll uh, I’ll leave you be for now.”

And then he excused himself once more.

[steel-and-fire]

Session Summary: Preparations

Next morning after the celebrations, Ferenir doesn't remember anything after he got drunk, which is rare for him (but I rolled a 3,4,5 and Nat1, so fuck me), but he decided to have a shower and fix the bed he apparently broke during the night, which he does successfully. Then, until the others woke up, he decided to play and spend some time with Booby, and got the idea to teach him to read, since the slime has shown signs of high intelligence.

After an introduction into the alphabet and Booby showing a small sign of evolving, they are interrupted by the party gathering to discuss their preparations. Ferenir will take care of their equipment, and Aramil and Horny will look for information.

The party separates, and Ferenir visits Bertrand, the city blacksmith and now friend...who has finished the dragonborn's order. Ferenir had gathered powerful materials in his travels, the fangs of Shadowfang, a powerful magical beast they found dead in their first mission, the spine of a giant, and his own very hammer as a base. He had commissioned Bertrand to make a weapon like no other, and the blacksmith did not disappoint.

He presented to Ferenir Umbra Fang, a two handed, large, spiked hammer, with the ability to transform to a flail at will, through the giant's spine extending with the aid of magical mithral. Apart from that quality, Umbra Fang does additional damage due to the fangs used as spikes, with the ability to release a wave of necrotic energy a few times per day. As if that wasn't enough, once per day, Ferenir can channel the giant's might and increase his strength for a limited duration.

A truly gorgeous weapon fitting a legendary warrior, now laying in Ferenir's hands. As he provided all of the material, Bertrand wants only a small price for the work, but Ferenir additionally offers him his dragon crystal blade in a trade.

Leaving the man to rest, Ferenir takes over the smithy, and spends the majority of the day smelting the adamantine of his shield and using it to restore his armor, the one that belonged to the ancient paladin whose undead body they defeated in a tomb, to its original glory.

Done with that, he bought new and improved armors for Aramil and Horny, aiming to improve their defenses....he will protect them, of course he will, but he knows very well that nothing protects a person better than good old steel. And he will be damned before he loses a friend with his hands down.

Speaking of the devil, the two pass by the smithy and the party meets up, where the other two wear their new gear and inform Ferenir that they need to visit the Church, where the cultists had attempted to steal an artifact. The priestess refuses to cooperate with the guards....and our only hope is Horny, for who the priestess has expressed....strong desires for, much to the poor man's dismay and disgust.

Alas, sacrifice for the greater good, no? So, they all head to the church, Horny enduring the constant laughs and teasing of the shitheads he calls friends, until they are stopped by two large priests blocking the way. They allow Horny to enter, as he is a....'chosen' of the priestess, but they bar the entry to the other two. And most importantly, when Ferenir tells them politely that he is there to 'pray to the gods, as this is the only church in town, so they should kindly fuck off', they make the mistake to hit him with the threatening "Excuse me? What did you just say?" Possibly the worst choice and tone of words one could ever use.

Ferenir feels a vein pop in his head, and walking up to them, picks immediately a fight about how they deny entry to the faithful, go against their duties as priests and defile holy ground, threatening to report them immediately to the authorities..or worse. The nat20 on that roll helps the priests maintain their physical wellbeing by backing off from arguing with the pissed off dragonman, and the Misfits enter the church together...

[nahalism]

howwwww ddid you manage to study and get a darned degree within a scheduled academic reality with your impulsive and random spurges of energy/inspiration¿¡ is it survivable most of my friends r systematic, somehow collected, motivated in a beauutiful steady way that’s typically required in higher ed and i just¡ do not¡ relate¡ loove you hope you are breathing easy🫶🏻🫶🏻

lool man.

the truth is, i did get the degree, but the process was not as heroic as ur question makes it sound. the determination to finish came from a genuine passion for literature, but also cause i didnt want to drop out and have debt, but no degree to show for it. everytime i looked for an excuse to quit, i had my mum telling me 'i only had a year left and could pursue what i wanted to when i was done'. — she was right, but i dont think right means it was the only way to do things. i think my approach was courageous, but also very based in fear and lack of self believe. so whilst i dont regret it, and its part of what got me to build that self believe and faith over fear, there are times i question if dropping out and pursuing my 'spurges of inspiration' would have been the braver and more rewarding choice. it may or may not have been, but i cant answer that cause its not the path i chose.

how i did it was a matter of programming my mind. sounds cliche, but as ive said before i fanaticised over ways i could effectively 'hack my mind' so that regardless of what i thought felt and was going thru, i could not just perform, but overcome the barriers that made it hard for me to perform. (i have a ask with book recommendations and loads of those books were part of the resources that saw me thru). that process was ugly at times, full of extreme stress, insomnia, extreme highs, crazy lows, smatterings of episodes where i was so exhausted and had pushed my body, psyche and emotional state to such extremes that i was full on out of it and a shell of a person. i was sent to my uni therapist and psychiatrist multiple times, and my family were concerned for my wellbeing. i spoke to my professors one on one maybe a maximum of two times. i barely had friends and a social life because my mental state was so poor, and the friends i did have i was constantly paranoid about losing cause i felt like i had no energy to meet up with them call them or maintain a relationship with them. i had consistent insomnia and near to no quality life. and i pursued art, writing and non degree related passions only because i sacrificed doing the other stereotypical university things my friends were doing.

im not saying this to be a victim. i rate myself highly and respect myself for what ive been able to achieve, but i dont want to say all the good w out contextualising the reality of how bad it actually was. i love learning but the the institution of education itself was hell for me 2 b honestly quite insufferable. i dont know how i survived if not for sheer will

the only advice i can give you is try to have a schedule. dont compare yourself to others, just do your best, find what your passionate about re: your degree, set a personal goal of what you want to achieve, and hold on to that blindly. have people around you that will let you break down and vent about what your finding difficult without judgement. & its awkward but if you can find someone in ur unis pastoral care department that knows what your going thru and will check in to see if your doing good or struggling. above everything, life is short and not promised. follow ur urged and ur inspiration cause thats the only thing thats real and only thing that will keep ur spirits up when times are hard. skills and experience are more important than degrees

sending u a huge hug and all the luck in the world. it might be hard but its not impossible!!! u got this

[frosted-night]

Toothiana Concept Design Review

As promised, I tried to hunt down every single design of her and I think i got them all. (Or at least most.) It’s the Queen’s turn lets go, starting with her book designs!

According to Joyce, this is one of the earliest designs for Tooth. She started out as a suited human and not as a human-bird hybrid. If you squint you can see a widow’s peak/hairline on her head. She gives me more super hero-like vibes in this one and the peacock feathers are interesting! I can’t say I’m a fan of it. Below is another book design I found that is VERY similar to this one, so I grouped them together.

Rating: 4/10 Glad he made her more bird like.

As a bonus, here is the design for Tooth as a child. Her toy there looks almost like a tooth but I have no idea what it actually is. I like how u can see a tiny curl of her hair under the hat. Otherwise I don’t have a lot of thoughts on this one.

Rating: 4/10 Not a fan but this exists I guess. BUT SHE ALSO HAS A SWORD.

A tooth that appears in the Man In The Moon Picture book. (Heh it almost looks like shes hanging onto Aster’s sleeve here.) I just noticed shes got an F symbol on her bag that she has on the belt of her childhood outfit. She looks kinda angelic here ngl. Very wintery colors. Rating: 6/10 Wish she was more colorful just a little bit

THERE SHE IS. THE FINAL BOOK TOOTH. Her feathers are absolutely stunning and the feather-puffy pants combo is  A LOOK(A good one). The only things I got that bother me is how round her head is at the top. If it had longer feathers that stuck out it’d look a little less weird. And one other thing

Ear Feathers?????? Don’t know why but this AINT A VIBE. Rating: 7/10 looks like a queen and the swords are badass

I cannot stress enough how many movie Tooth designs exist so buckle up.

Starting with a mysterious human looking Tooth, this design surfaced from this post 8 years ago. The original poster claimed it wasn’t from the movie credits and I couldn’t find any other trace of this design so it’s dubious at best. However I included it just in case it was in the movies/plans at some point of production. (I’m a little skeptical but oh well.) I do like how her outfit does look similar to real life outfits of her home region and she just looks gorgeous here.

Rating: Dubiously Canon/10

This one feels more stylistic but damb I gotta appreciate how intricate her feathers look. Looks like she’s right out of a storybook and it’s very appealing.

Rating: 6/10 Not many thoughts just love her

A fascinating one I found in my search. This was one of three designs that had Tooth in a mask but if you squint you can see she has a knife/dagger. So she would have had that blade wielding quirk like her book counterpart. She looks a bit more human in this one(At least in my opinion) The little flared collar is a nice touch that I oddly like. She looks like a fairy queen here for sure. She almost reminds me of a fencer Rating: 5/10 Good but too human

The other masked Tooth! There are, a lot of thoughts I have about this one. The colors are GREAT and so are her wings. Her body however reminds me of the suited Tooth design Joyce had drawn up. It looks almost like shes wearing a shirt with holes in it over a pink one and I just don’t know how to feel about it. Something is just off about this one.

Rating: 3/10 Wings r great throw the rest away

Another rare Tooth. She looks very similar to the one above and still has that mask. Or it could just be her actual head and not a mask this whole time! What a twist. Anyway, given the lighting it’s hard to tell what her base colors were but I’ll work with what we got. She’s a little less colorful looking than the other Tooths so it’s a little disappointing. Her wings are still quite impressive in my opinion.

Rating: 5/10 It’s nice but very one note in this concept image color wise

Now this Tooth is an interesting one. She ditched the bird theming all together and is more butterfly themed. She’s more humanoid here but something about this design just hits a sweet spot for me. It’s very simple but I can’t explain it. Also I’m weak for her head covering/hood(?)

Rating: 8/10 Ignore the very blue white haired Sasuke lookin guy in her arms

Excuse the very poor image quality here. I could only find it in this resolution so we gotta squint on this one. This one.. Call me weak but its one of my favorites. Her puffy pants make a return and they look like actual clothes! Her feather-cloak is a nice touch. I *think* this Tooth has hair if you look close but it’s hard to tell. It works in this design oddly works! Rating: 8/10 No complaints! Just that its so JPEGY AAAAA

Oh man Y’all I

Her energy itself is powerful. This Tooth feels older than the final design and has a very seasoned look to her. Call me a simp I DONT CARE. She’s such a queen here and I can’t get over it

She lives in my head rent free and I will never ask her to pay rent. I’ll PAY HER. If I was forced to pick a favorite Tooth, it’s this one. She has fantasy elements and traits that remind me of an Indian Queen.

Rating: 10/10 Y’all already know i simp for this one I dont need to put anything else here.

The final Tooth having gold feathers to imitate jewelry is just as good so I have no complaints about her. Her eyes are absolutely stunning

They sort of remind me of a mosaic with light shining on it or gemstones even. That and her eyelashes are so on point. I fuckin ADORE THEM. No lash glue needed those are all natural baby. Additionally, she’s very humming bird themed(which is excellent) but her wings actually look more like dragon fly wings

Curious since they are one of(if not the) fastest flying insect. It makes sense when you see how fast Tooth can zip around. It never occurred to me until dragonflies came around this season and I watched them closely. Overall I adore this version of her all the same.

Rating: Macabre Queen of Teeth/10

[arvandus]

Stranger Things Thoughts:

I’ve been rewatching Stranger Things for the first time and I’m now on season 3.  Here are some of my hot takes:

- Season 1 was truly fantastic. The best season.  The way they built up the suspense and the mystery... I was scared all over again even though I knew everything, which was a testament to its quality.

- Still pissed at Nancy for ignoring her friend who was obviously miserable and uncomfortable just so she could hang out with her boyfriend. I would NEVER.

- Bob deserved better.

- There’s a definite vibe change in the setting from season 2 to season 3 and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

- Joyce is an absolute beast and I fucking love her; she’s probably the closest character to me emotionally. It’s that mom energy - the way she cares for El in season 1 and her tiger mom vibes for Will... I can relate deep in my soul.

- Poor Will deserves better. He’s suffered so much!

- The confrontation between Will and Mike in Season 3, where Mike says, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” and Will gets this wide-eyed look... THAT was the moment.  That was the moment when it clicked for Will why he was so jealous of El and Mike. It was the first time he finally understood what his feelings *meant* which was probably a big part of why he ran away, hid away in his hide-out, called himself “stupid” and then took a bat to everything. And then tried to brush the whole conflict off as “not a big deal” when it obviously WAS a big deal. Poor boy realized he was gay and wanted to bury that shit waaayyy deep so one one could find it.

- On a side note, I can only imagine what Will might have been thinking... he’d been taken the upside down where he almost died, was pretty much impregnated against his will (recall the baby Demogorgon he coughed up??) possessed, and the Mindflayer STILL has some hold on him because he can sense him when he’s active.  And with the way that homosexuality was treated in the 80s, I’m sure he thought he was a monster, a freak, that maybe the feelings he had for his best friend were wrong and vile.  That they were something that was the result of what he’d gone through, something that was done to him, rather than it being a very natural and acceptable part of who he was as a person.  THIS POOR BOY I CAN’T RIGHT NOW.

- Mike started out as such a good character but each season has gotten progressively worse and it makes me so sad...

- I remember El’s abilities being so badass when I first saw them; but now on the rewatch, they’ve lost their impact for me because I’m so used it (and it’s very overdone every season - can she level up...? Like... at all?).

- Steve and Nancy never really had a breakup...? Like... wtf was that?  They had a fight during the party and the day after... but like... an actual breakup wasn’t established? And then Nancy hooked up with Jonathan?  Excuse me, but what??

- I miss season 3 Robin when she was less chaos incarnate and more smart, snarky nerd.

- Steve and his bat are the OTP.

- I like all the scenes that have the clock ticking sounds... it all ties it in together which I enjoy.

- Season 3 Hopper is SO FLAWED but tbh I appreciate it because it’s important for his character development.

- On a side note, the running theme of his abuse of his power as chief of police makes me cringe a little thanks to real life events. I know it’s just a show and we as the audience know he’s the good guy so his actions are ‘justified,’ but still... the overall theme of “I can do what I want because of my authority” has not aged well, imo.

- I’m not looking forward to season 4 because I know what’s going to happen and I’m not ready for that pain again....

[romantichopelessly]

Roman’s List

Synopsis: This is 100% romangst, based on a single line from this latest video. That’s it. I do not apologize. I did not edit this. Goodbye.

Word Count: 1543

----

When Roman wrote, prose flowed from his mind like water from a tap. Steady most of the time and of questionable quality depending on the day, but flow it did. Verses came to Roman as easily as breathing. If one had occasional asthma, that was. Roman could pull out rhymes like so many dimes from his silver-lined pockets, even though his go-to metallic was gold.

Roman was a writer. Roman was a creative.

As such, Roman’s room was filled to the brim with notebooks. Notebooks filled with scribbles and ideas, sketches and poetry that never saw the light of day and love letter after love letter after diary entry. Notebooks that were as empty and clean as the day that he acquired them. Primed and ready to use in whatever way the prince saw fit, if he ever found the perfect use for a cherry red journal with a golden leaf pattern winding the cover.

However, there was one notebook that was not like the others. This notebook--plain and black, with a bound leather spine and a white satin built in bookmark--spent most of its time in the small crevice on the back of the prince’s mirror.

It was a difficult place to keep a journal, especially when Roman found something to put in said journal at least once a day, meaning that his poor innocent mirror was being moved far too often to excuse the elaborate hiding spot.

The journal contained a list. Roman, as a creative, was not one for making itemized lists. Really, that was more of Logan’s thing. However, this specific list had been ongoing for years now. If the notebook that the list filled was not imaginary, Roman would probably be on his third or fourth notebook.

Roman had started this list when Thomas was in his late highschool years. About the time that he was deciding what to do with his future, to be exact. The first entry was simple. A bullet point and a mistake. The first documented of many.

I lost us the lead in the school play. Thomas has decided to major in chemistry.

It wasn’t much, at the time. Roman didn’t even truly remember what it was that made him write down what was then seen as a colossal failure on his part. One minute he had been disappointed by Thomas’s decision to give up on his acting dreams, and the next he was huddled on the floor of his room, his reflection staring back at him from an awkward angle in his mirror, his breath coming in short gasps and chastisements running through his mind on a loop. Failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure--

When Roman came back from his spiral, his bright red glitter gel pen was already in his hands, and the words were already scripting themselves across the page of the notebook he hadn’t remembered reaching for. It was only when the mistake was written down that Roman felt the weight--or at least a very small part of it--release from his chest.

And there was the first on the list of Roman’s mistakes. Written neatly for future reference, to be looked back upon so that he would never ever fail Thomas in such a way again.

Of course, everyone knew that that was not the last time that Roman would let Thomas down.

The list grew slowly at first. Roman was still confident in his ability to be the perfect creativity for Thomas. He brought ideas whenever Thomas needed them. He encouraged Thomas’s passions, even though they were no longer a part of his career path. He pushed for Thomas to pursue his dreams in between engineering classes and organic chemistry papers, and for Thomas to pursue cute boys.

The only times the notebook was pulled out and Roman’s list grew longer was when the pursuit of dreams interfered a bit too much with Thomas’s work.

He never wanted to hurt Logan. Honest.

The notebook and the list was almost forgotten when Thomas finally gave up on chemical engineering and decided to become an actor. By the time Vine came around, Roman felt practically unbeatable. Sure, every once in a while he would do something that garnered the need of the notebook and its list, but more often than not, Roman was unstoppable.

He considered getting rid of the list.

On July 15, 2017, Roman’s list of mistakes nearly doubled in size.

After Virgil had revealed his name and Roman had apologized for making the anxious nelly feel so unwelcome as a part of Thomas, everything suddenly became a lot more clear.

He had been making mistakes for so long without even knowing it.

Every harsh name that Roman had ever aimed at Virgil was added to the list. All the times that Roman mocked his very real worries and sent Thomas out unprepared into the world were added to the list. Each time that he shot Virgil a look that made the anxious side flinch away--as if Roman were the villain, and goodness gracious Zeus above, if Virgil wasn’t the villain in those situations, perhaps he was--were added to the list. All the times that Roman doubted Patton’s judgement about his “shadowling” were added to the list. Entire years of Roman’s life were added to the list, because hurting Virgil was hurting Thomas, because like it or not Virgil did not, in fact, set out to hurt Thomas, and how could Roman have been so stupid to not realize that--

After that, Roman decided that he needed to be more cautious.

He needed to check himself. The list was kept for a reason. So that he could stop failing Thomas. He decided that he would be more open minded. He couldn’t chance hurting Thomas like he had with Virgil ever again.

So when Deceit revealed himself to Thomas, that was how Roman approached the situation.

Even with the list in mind, Roman still made mistakes. He got defensive around Deceit, modeling after Patton, and every night afterwards, Roman would add those names to the list. It was like Virgil all over again. Sure, it wasn’t obvious now that Deceit was another knight in shining armor for Thomas, but Roman had been wrong before. He had been wrong too many times to count now. He couldn’t take that chance again.

When the callback came up, even Roman’s list couldn’t advise him.

Deceit wanted to go to the callback. Patton was saying that that was wrong. Roman had never before made a mistake when agreeing with Patton. Patton was almost always right. He knew what was good for Thomas. On the other hand, shutting out Deceit was almost exactly like the previous mistakes that Roman had made in regards to Virgil.

And on the third pretend-it-doesn’t-exist hand, Roman desperately wanted to go to the callback.

He wanted it more than he had wanted anything in quite a long time. And Roman was a selfish creature. Selfishness had appeared in his list on more than one occasion.

So Roman did what he thought was best--not what he wanted, no, never what he wanted, the stakes were too large to risk yet another failure against Thomas--and Roman listened to Patton. He sentenced Thomas to the wedding.

A mistake was not added to the list that night. He had finally done something right.

Then along came the day of the wedding, and Thomas was hurting. Roman didn’t quite know how--of course he didn’t, he was too stupid to figure it out--but he knew that this was his fault.

Patton tried to make light of it. Good, caring Patton tried to fix Roman’s mess, and ungrateful Roman just kept messing it up.

Everything tumbled downhill after that. Roman’s progress was Humpty-Dumpty, and his fall came in the form of aggressive overcorrection of his actions and a nervous laugh at an admittedly funny name.

And a nail in the coffin.

A confirmation that this failure was the final nail in the coffin.

“I thought I was your hero?”

A shake of a head.

Roman sunk out to his room and shoved his mirror off of his wall without a thought to the fragile glass it was made of. He pulled out the notebook with shaking fingers and grabbed a pen off his desk with a complete lack of care.

CHOOSING THE WEDDING.

Listening to Dec Janus.

Not listening to Janus.

Skipping Logan.

Not watching out for Thomas

Laughing at his name.

Item after item was added to the list. The pages of the notebook crumpled under his careless hand as he gripped the pages with an intensity that he didn’t even know how to feel. The pages were wet, his tears hitting the pages and drying in rough patches on the paper.

He didn’t even know himself what the real mistakes were. He wrote them all down for good measure.

By the time that Roman ran out of energy, the list was almost incomprehensible. Words scratched out and doubled over, not following the lines of the notebook and in atrocious handwriting.

But it would have to do. Because Roman couldn’t afford any more mistakes. This list could not afford to get any longer than it already was. He couldn’t fail Thomas this catastrophically ever again.

[ja-khajay]

2020-2021 Animation Watch(ed)list

I haven’t posted about animation in a while that I remember, and I know a lot of my followers are into it as much as me so I decided to make a list of the animated movies and series I watched on the past year or so, coupled with my short, spoilerless take on them. Enjoy!

Organized by

Things I saw for the first time

Things I rewatched

Under a cut for the sake of your dashboards! PS: I have not added any images yet. If you are interested in knowing more about the visuals of these movies, I might make an old fashion ask-prompted imageset list.

Part One: Things I saw for the first time

The Bear’s Famous Invasion of Sicily

Movie, 2019, Italian/French

9/10, a delightful little movie with amazing visuals. It feels like an animated picture book.

One of those “plot is in the title” media! I had never heard of this before but was heavily recommended it by my family members, who all loved it! It’s a sweet story, nothing groundbreaking but the unique colorful visual style alone makes it worth it.

The Castle of Cagliostro

Movie, 1979, Japanese

10/10. Reminded me of all the books i loved reading as a child

I assume its because it’s so old and the art style and themes are so different that it gets little to no love compared to other Ghibli movies, which is a shame! It’s fun with an endearing cast and as always, great animation and music

Mushishi

Series, 2006, Japanese

10/10 three episodes in I knew it was going to be my favorite series ever

One of the few things I’ve seen I’ll describe as life-changing. It’s absolutely lovely but never toots its own horn about it. Humble, calming, emotional and surprisingly mature. It’s pretty impossible to binge due to how intense the experience is. I just want to walk in the forest now...

FMA: Brotherhood

Series, 2009, Japanese

6/10 Dissapointing adaptation of a classic story

I read the manga for this when I was in middle school and remembered loving it. The animated version does an ok job of presenting the characters and worldbuilding and has some nice action scenes but overall looks really damn cheap and just. Not very good. Seeing I already knew most of the plot I did not have the element of discovery that made me marvel so much reading the original. It’s still a nice series but I really recommend reading it instead.

Code Lyoko (s1+2)

Series, 2003, french

3/10. 1.5 being for the opening song alone

This show sucks ass if I hadn’t been watching this with my bestie I would have dropped it two episodes in. The art style is ugly the stories are always the same and the first season has a (later removed thank fucking god) LITERAL “erase any consequences” button as a plot device in every episode. If you watch it for one thing let it be the nostalgia factor of early 00s Vidya Game Plot

The Legend of Hei

Movie, 2019, Chinese

7/10. Impressive visuals and a poor story

I finally watched this, peer pressured by the load of gifsets on my dashboard! It’s a sweet movie with really impressive animation, sometimes a bit too flashy for my taste (the action sequences go so ham they become not very readable...) but the story was just ok? The setting is barely explained and you are instead bombarded with vague epicspeech about powers and stuff that made me fondly remember Kingdom Hearts lol but that asides it’s a really good time! I need to watch more Chinese movies the few I know are just delightfully off the shits in how they approach action and I love that

Hunter x Hunter

Series, 1999, Japanese

9/10. Superior to the recent one!

I first got introduced to the series via the 2011 one. Comparatively, the 99 series focuses way less on action and way more on the characters, which I love because that fits my personal preferences! Despite mediocre filler episodes and some weird slight pointless plot changes, what it changes from the original manga doesn’t have much of an impact on the characters. The animation quality isn’t always consistent including a huge art style change for an arc (???) but it’s overall pretty nice. The series really shines in the last arc it adapts.

Oban Star-racers

Series, 2006, Japanese/french

9/10 a lovely surprise

This series is completly obscure despite having been created by people famous for their other series (Cowboy Bebop, Code Lyoko that i can name) and it’s a crime! It’s a kids show but without being stupid about it who tells the story of an inter-planetary race. If you liked that one scene in the star wars prequels you know what I mean. It’s got surprisingly nice animation for a TV series, and some truly great character design. The art style is a bit unique in a not for everyone sense, but I didn’t mind it much. It’s also THE most offensively 2000s series i’ve seen in terms of visuals. y2k kids assemble

The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon

Movie, 1963, japanese

8/10. Classic fairytale format with incredible visuals

Watched this for the art style because I know it inspired Samurai Jack, and it delievered! I dont’ have much to say about this one, it’s a very simply film but it’s sweet. For my pirates out there if you want to find it in good quality with english subtitles it’s VERY hard to find. If you just want to see the looks of it, it’s on Youtube with portugese subs.

We now enter the Gobelins Shorts Zone....!

My Friend Who Glows In The Dark

10/10 makes me cry each time

Pure delight...great animation writing everything. A little short about death and friendship but not in the way you imagine!

Colza

9/10

Visual treat...homely and nice :) not far from a 10 but a 9 because nothing about it is that groundbreaking

Sundown

9/10

If you’ve ever been ten minutes from failing a group project because of a single dude you will REALLY enjoy this. Loved the colors and personality

T’as vendu mes rollers?

10/10

It’s SUCH a sweet little short I loved that one so much

Dix-huit kilomètres trois

10/10

Surprisingly well written dialog. Visuals are great but the humanity of the characters carries this to another level

Un diable dans la poche

9/10

Amazing visuals and the most tense/creepy of Gobelin shorts i’ve ever seen. Chilling

La bestia

8/10

I had some issues with the pacing. Interesting story and visuals choices but I was not fond of the art style

Goodbye Robin

5/10

Confusing but predictable. Both at once??? Yes!

Le retour des vagues

6/10

Cool animation stuff but felt pretty pointless

                                                                ***

Part Two: Things I rewatched

Ruben Brandt: Collector

Movie, 2018, Hungarian

10/10. Underrated as hell

Watched this fully blind for the first time in an animated festival and rewatched it with friends. It’s a crime I never see anyone talking about it given the amount of whining I see about the lack of both adult animation and 2D movies? This film is a unique love letter to art in the form of a weird mix of charming crime story and psychological horror with amazing visuals. I recommend watching it blind and also buying it to show appreciation for how nice it is!!! WATCH THIS MOVIE...

Mononoke

Series, 2007, Japanese

10/10 Visual/storytelling masterpiece in the weird shit departement

If you can stomach intense stuff watch this. The visuals are incredibly unique and beautiful and under the jewel tones and art direction high takes it’s a really cool horror series. My only obstacle to enjoying it the first time I saw it was how dense it is - simply put, it’s so...culturally Japanese it’s not very accessible to me who doesn’t know anything about the culture? Watching it for the second time helped understanding the stories more! 

Corto Maltese in Siberia

Movie, 2002, french

9/10 but really close to ten. A great adaptation!

I’m a huge fan of the original comic so I entered this a biiiittttt suspicious it would suck but it was a really pleasant surprise! It has all the wonder and charm of the original and the animation was surprisingly good for the little budget. If you’re not familiar with the series, it’s a sort of geopolitical action/adventure movie but with it’s own really poetic vibe to it. It’s almost impossible to find online but happens to be fully on YouTube so go ham I guess?

Redline

Movie, 2009, Japanese

10/10 cinema was invented for this, actually

Every review of this movie i’ve seen gives it five stars and starts by talking about how immensly stupid it is. I’m no different. It’s a masterpiece of escalating energy with the depth of a puddle and it fucking rules. It’s free on YouTube too so there really is no excuse to not watch it. Watched it for the first time on a huge cinema screen and despite this my second rewatch on my small laptop was as/even more enjoyable. If you watch this stoned with friends you might travel to another dimension

Spirited Away

Movie, 2001, Japan

10/10 deserves the love it gets

I watched this a single time as a kid and had little memory of it! I mean it’s Ghibli you know it’s going to be good as hell but this one rly shines in how colorful and detailed it is and in it’s world! It made me remember I had a huge crush on the dragonboy as a kid. I’m gay now

Kung-fu Panda (1&2)

Movie, Usa

10/10. KFP fucking rules

Honestly my favorite franchise of the whole disney/dreamworks/pixar hydra. It’s fun as hell, doesn’t skip a single beat and has amazing animation and character designs. If something is a good time I will not care if it’s deep or not and boy I fucking love these movies

Sinbad, Legend of the Seven Seas

Movie, 2003, Usa

5/10 Some great some really bad and overall generic

I tend to hate american cinema and this includes that era of animation I have no nostalgia for. Sinbad is in a weird place because I love adventure stories and the visuals of the movie absolutely deliver but it’s very predictable and TANKED by the addition of the female character, pushed in your face as “look we have woman!!!” despite her writing being misogynistic as hell lol. The evil goddess rules tho. This movie would have been a solid 9 if instead of the girl the two dudes had kissed

[shapes-den]

Art Prompt Competition Entry

(I had to cut down my submission for the WD competition, by a lot, to match the maximum word count, but I thought I'd post the longer version (that's been spell-checked, haha) for anyone who wanted to read it. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I'm enjoying going through everyone else's submission so far!

Content warning for: Hallucinations/visions, themes of death and mortality, body horror, animal death, mind-altering substances, blood, other horror themes)

.

.

“My name is Bu’ha.”

 “Bu’ha?” Ourkan squinted. “I can’t see you to tell if the name fits.”

“How rude of me, elder.” She stepped forward to allow the old wolf to sniff her.

“A yearling?”

“Yes, I’m a trainee healer, my parents suggested I go on this journey to gain confidence in myself.”

Ourkan huffed. “You seem old for a yearling.”

“Well…” Bu’ha paused, laughing nervously. “I was planning to get over my fear of corpses first.”

Ourkan laughed. “A wolf afraid of food? Well, I won’t ask the real reason.”

“It sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

“Strange.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m doing this for. Mother says I should gain enough life experience that silly things like that won’t upset me”.”

“I’m tired,” Ourkan cut her off, slowly stretched out his front paws and scratched at his ear, looking pained, “You should go find my grandson. Big red wolf, you can’t miss him.” He turned away and curled up, tucking his nose under his tail tip. Ignoring her.

"Goodbye... Elder."

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

Bu’ha plodded up the winding path she had found just past the rude elder's resting spot. Perhaps this pack might help her get over her embarrassing phobia? Ever since she was small the thought of death and dying had terrified her. She even sympathised with the prey her pack caught, apologising before eating, but her mother said this was a good quality in a healer. Compassion. Just… maybe not this much. Catching her own food had already driven home the message, the necessity of prey death, but she simply couldn’t rationalise predator death. They fed no one. It seemed so... senseless.

Sniffing out the presence of other wolves, Bu'ha picked up the pace. Ferns, damp from the mid-morning rain, grabbed at her forelimbs as she brushed past them. Chalky-smelling rocks crumbled into a slurry beneath her toes, but she didn't mind, her thoughts were focused on the two wolf pups who were passed out on a bed of sweet-smelling herbs ahead of her, blocking the path.

Smiling to herself, Bu'ha nosed the closest pup, but the smile soon turned to a deep frown. These poor pups were freezing in the cold autumn wind! Angrily she looked around for either parent, before realising that the pups hadn’t moved an inch.

An icy feeling went down her spine. Could they be…?

“What are you doing?!” Her thought was interrupted by the harsh bark of a middle-aged female. “Get away from my nephews!”

“They’re… alive?”

“What a rude, unobservant yearling! My sister’s twins are just sleeping. They happen to have been born with gifts that make them tired.”

Bu’ha took another look, feeling foolish as she saw that both pups were breathing deeply. How could she be so stupid? The two wolves were joined at the hip. Every healer knew that unusual puppies like that were often colder than normal wolves. It was their connection to dead things that made them that way. That same connection meant that they didn’t live long, and she had just been the most ignorant she could possibly have been. Not a great first impression.

“I’m so terribly sorry, your healer and their parents must be amazing at caring for them. Your nephews seem very happy and healthy.”

“Of course, our healer’s the best in the valley!” She said, with a cunning glint in her eye. “In fact, you should go and see her, perhaps you might learn a thing or two about etiquette.”

“Oh! I would love to; I’m planning to be a healer.” Bu’ha wagged her tail, happy to have found an excuse to leave. Meeting the medicine wolf would be a bonus to her learning too. 

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

The pup’s aunt had given her very precise directions, seeming to enjoy making her stay and listen for an uncomfortably long time. It served her right though; she had disrespected the poor female’s family members. Bu’ha took a deep breath as she picked her way delicately through puddles and sharp rocks at her feet. It was slow going, but it gave her time to think about her manners at least.

The air was getting colder, but through the damp and moss, she could smell that the healer was close. Herbs and poultices had a distinct leafy smell, that seemed almost bitter to her, and she could've recognised it from a mile away.

Trailing plants hung down over a rocky cliffside at the end of the temporary stream, but there seemed to be no wolf or den in sight. She put her nose to the floor, hoping to pick up a scent, but all she could smell were puddles and an odd metallic tang that made her gag. Probably some rare type of medicine or plant, not that it made the stench of it any less disgusting. Maybe there would be a path on the cliff somewhere? Bu’ha stepped forward and nosed at the sodden, dripping vines. The revolting scent was stronger here, but so was a much sweeter smell of dried flowers, that seemed to be carried on a breeze blowing out of the rock itself. Of course! The medicine wolf must have a den hidden behind the plants. How clever, she thought, to keep any sick wolves where they would be undisturbed. Good for recovery. Now if only she could remember what the healer’s name was…

“Hello?” she whined, “Is a wolf name Huth here? Your packmate Auru sent me.”

A nose suddenly touched her own, causing her to jump at least 10 feet into the air in surprise.

“A visitor!” said the greying muzzle poking out from behind the curtain of greenery, “I never get visitors, come in!” Just as quickly as the nose had appeared, it vanished again, back into whatever cave or crevice it's owner lived in.

“Do… Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Bu’ha asked, both curious and confused.

“Of course not! It’ll be obvious enough when you get in here, hurry up!”

The yearling laughed, it seemed like learning from this wolf might be fun. Thank goodness this pack’s healer wasn’t as abrasive as the rest of them. She pushed her way eagerly into the cave, taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

An elderly wolf with large patches of fur missing here and there, greeted her with a wagging tail.

“Don’t worry, I’m not contagious if you were wondering,” The old wolf sized her up, almost jealously despite her warm smile “As we get older, healing comes much slower.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to stare.” This wolf, Huth, was clearly old enough to be envious of the yearling’s youth, but she sounded friendly, and all those years of wisdom would be fascinating to hear about.

Bu’ha fluffed out her fur, not wanting to appear judgemental. Old wolves aren’t dead wolves, she thought to herself, though, she didn’t really believe it looking at Huth.

“You look half-starved. Did my cranky relatives bother to feed you?”

“No, but I- “

The older wolf cut her off by shoving a chunk off meat under her nose.

“Eat up!” She said cheerfully, not pausing for a response.

“… Thank you.” Bu’ha sighed, knowing she couldn’t refuse the hospitality of a shared meal, and whispered a quick apology to the unidentified creature she was eating.

“Custom of your pack?” Huth enquired. The elder was sharp, she hadn’t missed Bu’ha’s quirk. Should she lie? “No, you seem touchy about it. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. Spirits aren’t just superstition, you know.”

“Oh?”

“I can show you, after your meal. Spirits make the herbs more potent, full of nutrition. Good for growing wolves.” The elder gave her a kind, almost pitying look.

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

Both wolves padded softly over snow. Mist rose from the surroundings, but Huth had told Bu’ha this was the magic of the place. Tall, slender trees were silhouetted against the early evening light, in an eerily beautiful way. Bu’ha was enjoying herself, she had already learned a few things, and the air was cool and pleasant to her nose.

“How do you feel?” Huth asked softly.

“Hm? Cold, mostly.”

“Good… Good. Tell me when you can see it.”

The young wolf tilted her head, looking around. Now that she mentioned it, the trees seemed to be swaying in time with her breath, each exhale blowing condensation into the still air. The ground was breathing with her, glistening dewdrops shining with life.

“Do… You mean… spirits?” For some reason her words were slow to reach her mouth. Each step was becoming harder, and yet Huth seemed unaffected by the energy of the forest.

“Shh, shh, you tell me when you see. Tell me what it says.”

“Huuuth…?” Bu’ha felt nauseous, her blood rushed in her ears. Everything felt darker than before. The tree (… were they trees?) moved with greater intensity, with purpose. “What…?”

Black blood dripped down blacker bark, each tree a twisted limb that uprooted itself to crash forwards towards her. Moss melted and bubbled underfoot. Howls of air almost knocked her down as she cowered before a mighty beast. Ragged breaths, bright dead eyes, its ribcage heaved as hers did, sucking the air from her lungs and forcing it back down her throat with no care for her mortal whims.

Each inhale brought a wave of sickness; each brought a tide of death. Small critters curled up and died before her, plants withered and rotted to nothing. All consumed by the black, black blood.

That corpse-like, canine face, an emaciated grimace that pulsated with an air of indifference. Urine soaked into her tucked tail. The slender spirit did not care.

“Tell me what it says!” Her vision was blocked as Huth let out a ragged screech. “I need to know what to do!”

Bu’ha stared up in fear at the mess of flesh that was the older wolf. Every inch of Huth's muzzle throbbed with open yellow pustules, bubbling like molten fat, barely clinging to her rotting bones. Her jaw hung loosely, teeth gnashing at nothing as strangled sounds of desperation left her throat. Her eyes were no more. Instead, her sockets poured forth dark, sticky liquid, that fell down her cheeks and hit the ground with a sickening squelch. Her cries were getting louder. Her head was twitching violently. One paw held Bu’ha pinned to the ground. Her empty sockets remained focused on the yearling.

Not to be ignored, nor constrained by the mere laws of physics, the tall, twisted sprit passed through the medicine wolf, it’s head almost comically small compared to its sinewy neck. Both wolf and spirit blended into one as a strange sense of calm overtook Bu’ha.

How idiotic she had been. Death was inevitable. Death did not care. Death was not…

Her vision faded into

nothingness.

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

Pitiful.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Huth kicked her back legs with each contemptuous thought. What a waste of time. The twisted corpse behind her had showed such promise, and yet…

“Too much mountain toad?” She pondered. What a moron. If only she hadn’t been so focused on the approaching winter, she wouldn’t have messed things up for the twins. Might even have cured them before the snow drifts got too deep.

The old wolf’s muscles ached as she bitterly kicked a clump of large icy earth at the yearling.

“Help…” A soft whine came from behind Huth... had she imagined it? Excitement overtook rationality as she turned sharply towards the ‘corpse’. There! Shallow breaths, despite the lifeless eyes.

“Perfect!”

Perhaps she wasn't so useless after all.

[antoniatzhang]

ok here we go

BASICS

full name: antonia trevisani zhang

birthday: may 15th, 1960

age: 19

pronouns: she/her

current residence: wimbourne house, hemlock room

languages: english, mandarin, italian

BACKGROUND

hometown: siena, italy

previous home: n/a

parents: emilia trevisani and zhang jie

siblings: tbd

pets: lucrezia, a tarantula, plus two dobermanns back in italy named alto and nico

WIZARDING STATS

wand:  11″, occamy feather core, wood tbd, unyielding, lined with occamy eggshell silver. 

patronus: jaguar (uncast)

boggart: tbd

amortentia: tbd

PERSONALITY

strengths: adventurous, thorough, observant

weaknesses: unrepentant, misanthropic, self-centered

MBTI: ISTP-a

alignment: chaotic neutral (?... I just hate the word evil so you be the judge of it)

zodiac sign: taurus

likes: fire, deadlines, quidditch, running, spiders, her dogs, shortcuts

dislikes: people, 

MIRROR

height:5'5

body type: skinny

eye color: pitch black

hair color: pitch black

faceclaim: natasha liu bordizzo

voiceclaim: rooney mara w/ accent

EDUCATION

primary school: london school of witchcraft / class of 1978

hogwarts house: slytherin/ class of 1981

degree: healing sciences, mind magic

extracurriculars: dueling club, quidditch, JWL

classes: tbd

BACKGROUND

People are idiots, of that Antonia is sure. Although she is not particularly accomplished in anything worth remarking, Antonia is entirely convinced that everyone is beneath her, in one way or another. That one? Lazy. The other? Presumptuous. The third is naïve. The fourth, unambitious, the poor thing. She could go on and on about the defects of each and every person in the world, without ever recognizing these same exact defects in herself. She has learnt, after all, that in her, all acts are justifiable, because she is special. Talented. Those who see defects in her are likely jealous, as she’s always been told by her parents. This posture makes it difficult for her to like just about anyone, as their defects always make them seem incredibly unworthy of her time. Upon joining Hogwarts, Antonia decided her most likely chance of meeting decent companies would be joining the Junior Witches League, seeing as her mother had been associated to its Italian branch and always spoke wonders of her sisters. So far, however, she remains unimpressed. Her few good qualities are her impressive talent for jinxes, hexes and combative magic as a whole, which she hopes to show off at dueling club, and her ability to push herself relentlessly in everything physical –adrenaline is a key motivator to Antonia. Quidditch and dueling are the most orthodox ways to get those kicks, but other creative ways are also on the table. Danger strikes her fancy.

A childhood like Antonia’s could be described as picture perfect. The setting of Villa Trevisani, a true Tuscany-style mansion in the outskirts of Siena, Italy, was abundant and dreamy. From an early age, she figured she must have been a very special child – what else could explain the garden, the toys, the clothes, all dreamy and all at the tip of her fingers? She was special, as her father explained. Unlike other kids. Not only was she a witch, she also belonged to a phenomenal lineage, and was therefore entitled to all the best things in life. The company of all those goods made for decent substitute of her parents’ attention. They loved her, sure, but both lived hustled celebrity lives – her mother, Emilia Trevisani, a singer and tabloid favorite celebrity in Italy, and her father, Zhang Jie, a superstar quidditch player who led the Chinese national quidditch team to victory on three World Cups, as their seeker. When the couple met over the 1958 Quidditch World Cup, hosted in Italy, they fell in love fast and suddenly, and were married just under 5 months dating. Jie moved to Emilia’s Villa Trevisani and signed a contract with the Grifoni di Siena, Italy’s most popular team. The couple’s first child, Antonia, came to the world at the same time when their marriage was becoming lackluster and dull. They avoided a divorce for the sake of the child, but she understood their relationship perfectly, from a very young age, and saw that there was no love there. Her childhood days were spent in attempts to trick her governesses, distilling all her energy running through the garden, climbing on the statues, throwing fits. She broke her bones more times than she would be able to tell you, in the most various places, and developed quite the tolerance to pain. In quidditch, she could always push herself to the most dire conditions, and her father supported her involvement in the sport tremendously.

Antonia learned she ought to be proud of her lineage, particularly on her father’s side. More than anything, she held a profound sense of admiration for her grandmother, Zhang Baozhai. Zhang Baozhai was the reason why the Zhang name brought chills to the better informed witch or wizard, principally to those in Asia. A sullen, cutthroat woman, she built a dynasty from the ground. First, through years of political influence in the Chinese Ministry of Magic. Second, forging her own line of work – a business operation that ran on the limits of legality and employed dark magic to fulfill the desires of their costumers, whichever be their nature, and always for a lofty price. Baozhai formed a particular bond with her granddaughter and often treated her with more love than she’d ever had for any of her sons. Their bond was so solid that, upon her passing, Baozhai’s wand chose Antonia, an event that brought herself and her father much pride.

tw: violence, physical abuse

Once, in her teenage years, Antonia thought she’d found true love, and she grasped and clung to it for long, painful months that felt like years. At the age of sixteen, she met an English man – a wizard, and a muggleborn, about five years older than her, all of which made the simple fact of her allowing him to get to know her outrageous. He was in Italy for a mysterious job. He was a mysterious man. Everything about him drew her in and, before she knew it, she was too deeply inebriated to deny her feelings. They lived two months of an intense romance, or so she thought. One day the man disappeared without saying a word, and the mysterious job turned out to be stealing pieces of her family heirloom from her home. This enraged her. For months, all she could think of was confronting him, not for the theft but for the deceit, the ridicule. She pestered her parents everyday about allowing her to move to London, on excuses of the most varied – the quality of education, the cultural enrichment, perfecting her English, even the weather, absurd as it was. Eventually they caved in, as they always did. And so, Antonia moved into London, concluding the last two years of her primary education in London School. During that time, finding her deceiver was like a mission to her – not a day went by that she didn’t dedicate herself to it. When she finally found him, living well-off in a condo, Antonia confronted him in his house. Upon the accusations and demands for explaining himself, she was met with resistance, but not the type she’d expected – the man lashed onto her with overwhelming physical strength. She didn’t remember the details – all she remember was feeling utterly subjugated and reaching for her wand like a drowning man to a life buoy. She stunned him, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough. Had she been a better person, she would have left and reached out to the DMLE, but instead, she did something else out of unexplainable rage: she attempted to obliviate him. And failed. Miserably. Instead of forgetting her, or anything, he forgot everything, including basic motor functions. He went into vegetative state. This earned him a one-way ticket to St. Mungus, and Antonia earned an expulsion from school. But not one that couldn’t be lifted by her father, who knew just who to persuade with words and whose palms to grease. Antonia came out of this traumatic event feeling victorious, and felt not a pinch of regret for what she did. In fact, by the time she had to choose her degree, she thought it would be ironic to choose Mind Magic as her degree, with particular interest to obliviating. She still visits him in St. Mungus every year, traditionally during Christmas time.

TL;DR

yea sorry I sometimes overdo it here’s the tl;dr:

- hates everyone, think’s she’s better than anyone

- have you ever met someone who always turns the conversation into something that’s 100% about them, like, almos doesn’t even pretend they’re listening? yup that’s her

- spoiled af, if you’ve watched murder of gianni versace, think andre cunanam’s dad and you’ll get the picture of her fathering profile

- adrenaline junkie

- tw violence/physical abuse: ex-boyfriend-turned-conman tried to be physically violent to her so she stunned and obliviated-ish him (ik makes no sense, but she was in chaos), except she didn’t know how to obliviate someone and ended up turning his brain into mashed potatoes. figured, welp, guess I have a talent for the thing, might as well become an obliviator. so now she’s studying mind magic.

- I’m going with death eater long term (duh), please hmu with plots if you have any ideas!!!

- also yes I was obviously inspired by natasha’s ethnicity (chinese + italian), this is not a coincidence

[bouwrites]

Maribat March 2020 Prompt: Roommates

Week 4, Day 4.

Maribat March 2020 Calendar.

Day 1: Sweetheart’s Dance, Day 3: Coffee Shop, Day 5: Fake Dating.

Ao3.

2281 words. Story under read-more.

Marinette is a simple girl. It’s been a while since she could say she has a simple life, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a simple girl anymore. She’s a girl who loves what she does. A girl deep in her passions, who feels deeply and maybe works a bit too much. She’s a girl who really wants to spend some quality time with her boyfriend. Cuddle a bit, maybe catch a movie. That’s all. She’s a simple girl who doesn’t think that’s too much to ask for.

She takes the moments where she can. Nudges, laughs, winks. Sometimes, she and Jon can even hold hands. When she’s tired, she’ll duck her head into his chest and pretend he’s all the world, so she doesn’t have to do anything but sit there with him. No other obligations or distractions. When he’s frustrated, sometimes he’ll bury his face in her hair and mutter for only her to hear. Little things, stolen moments that don’t take away from every other thing they have to handle.

But sitting on the sofa, legs tucked under her as she leans onto Jon, watching a bad romantic comedy while he plays with her hair? That only comes once a blue moon. It’s nice while it lasts.

Marinette is sitting there, calm, content in the simplicity of enjoying time with the boy she loves, when out of nowhere and completely predictably, Alya comes upon them like an angel falling from heaven.

Marinette hears a sharp squeak, then the click of a camera shutter, then a curse as Alya remembers her phone’s sound is on and hurries to silence it. It’s not worth it to say something. She can feel Jon move under her, attention moving to where Alya is, but even still it’s not worth it. They can stay in this moment. They can keep this. They will hold onto this moment for all it’s worth and no nosy friend is going to pry it from their hands.

Besides, Marinette is too exhausted to care. After the last heroic tragedy pushed her behind on commissions, she’s been staying up too late. Jon is trying to get her to sleep more, in fact that’s why he arranged to come here tonight, and Marinette is so lucky and grateful to have the best boyfriend in the world who cares about her well-being and loves her so much so she will not let this evening go to waste. This evening is for relaxation and cuddles and that’s it.

Marinette is just able to put Alya���s presence around the corner out of her mind when suddenly the lights dim. Goddamn it, Alya. She groans, beginning to rise, but Jon’s arms around her keep her where she is. “It’s alright.” He whispers in her ear, soft and sweet and everything she needs right now. “She’s just trying to set the mood.” He chuckles lightly, bouncing Marinette a bit on the rise and fall of his chest.

“She should mind her own business.” Marinette mutters into his shirt.

“She’s just trying to be a good friend.” He says. “In… her own way. Just focus on the movie.”

Jon’s right, of course, so Marinette sighs and settles back down. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth the energy to get up, much less chew out Alya. No, Marinette doesn’t want to be anywhere except right where she is, or do anything but exactly what she’s doing. Nothing beats this. Nothing beats the peace, the calm, of feeling his shirt on her cheek. Nothing beats the gentle rise and fall of his chest; its slow, even rhythm breathing into her the knowledge that he’s safe, and that she is, too. Or the steady bump of his heart; it’s unfailing beat like a message in code saying, “I’m alive. We’re alive.”

Nothing beats him nuzzling into her, grin lighting up the dim room like he’s sunshine itself, or the silvery voice, low and soft in her ear, just a little breathy, as if he can’t quite seem to catch his breath when she’s leaning against him like this.

Marinette can sit here forever, so long as he stays with her. Commissions and tragedies be damned. She’s sinking back into the mode to do just that when, opening her eyes again, she sees Alya directly between them and the television, holding up her phone. Her finger is frozen over the picture button, caught red-handed, so to speak. I’m going to skin you, Alya.

She feels Jon’s hand on her arm, gently rubbing the skin there. It calms her down more than it probably should. “Alya?” Jon says.

“Uh… yeah?”

“Please leave us alone. Mari’s really tired. We just want a nice night in, okay?”

Alya awkwardly, and slowly, lowers her phone. “Yeah! Of course! I’ll leave you to it!” Even as she gives him a thumbs-up, she’s sending meaningful and suggestive looks at Marinette, who is simply too tired to care. Before she leaves, she kisses Marinette’s head, whispering, “I want the deets later, girl! Rest well!”

Alya takes off to her room, finally leaving Marinette the living room with Jon, where Marinette looks to him questioningly. “Huh?”

Jon shrugs. “I don’t know. Sounds like she’s got something to talk to you about, though.”

“Mmm.” Marinette just turns her head back into his shoulder. “Who cares?”

Jon giggles. “While I’ve got you here? Not me.” He hugs her closer, a little tighter, and nuzzles her, drawing grins and giggles out of the both of them.

“You’re leaning forward. Are you asking to be taken down? And fix that stance!”

Marinette growls under her breath as she wipes the sweat from her brow, adjusting her weight and stance to be perfect. Mistaken as their intruder is, she is slightly off. That only irks her more. Jon, hearing her, groans loudly.

Their uninvited third doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. The latter is, admittedly, more likely. “And Jon, are you seriously going that easy on her? She was wide open! So are you. You shouldn’t be relying so much on your powers to muscle through every fight, you know.”

Jon sucks in a breath and sticks a tight smile on his face. “Thanks, Damian. I totally want to hear your advice right now.”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Whether you want my advice or not, I won’t allow you to keep practicing with such poor form. You’ll only make bad habits that way, and that’ll get you killed.”

“I understand that.” Jon says, far too patiently for his own good. “I do. But we’re not sparring.”

Damian furrows his brow, looking between them. “You are in the sparring ring, dressed for it. What are you doing, then?”

Marinette takes a deep breath. It’s only natural he’d think we’re sparring. Doesn’t excuse him barging in, but it’s fine. “Dancing. I asked him to help with a routine.” She says.

“Ah.” Damian says. “In that case, Jon, you’re still far too stiff.” His eyes move to her again. “And you were still off-balance.”

Marinette gives him a sardonic smile until he turns his attention back to Jon. Then, she rolls her eyes.

“Dance is helpful, but only if you do it properly.” Damian continues. “It will hurt you in combat if you slack off just as much as proper practice will help. You’re clearly not suited for this, perhaps I will be a better partner for her. She should practice with someone of her skill.”

Jon scowls. “Hey, back off. She asked me to help.”

Marinette sighs deeply. “You know what? I think we’re done for now, anyway.”

Damian tuts loudly. “You’re giving up halfway through practice? You’ll never master it if you don’t devote the time necessary.”

Marinette clenches her jaw. It’s not worth it. She reminds herself. It’s not worth the trouble. Just walk away. “I appreciate the thought, Damian, but has it ever occurred to you that just maybe we don’t have to be masters at everything we do?”

“Of course not. That would be ridiculous. We must aspire to excellence in any endeavor.”

Marinette runs her hand down her face. Normally, she would be more patient with Damian, but she’s just really not in the mood right now. “Alright. Let me spell it out for you. I like dancing with Jon. That’s it. That’s all this is. And you know what? We’ve been going at it for a while now! So, I’m going to raid your fridge and then I’m going to take a nap, alright? Good? Good. Goodbye.”

“Dang it, Damian!” Jon whines.

“What’d I do?”

“We were just having fun! Why’d you have to come in and ruin it? You put her in a bad mood, too…”

“If you had proper form, I wouldn’t have had to say anything. And if she gets upset at such minor critique, then-”

“Oh my God!”

Marinette growls some more as she rubs her temples. So much for date night. It was supposed to be fun, but now she’s all riled up from being interrupted (and from knowing Damian is right, at least about her technique), and once Damian tried taking Jon’s place as her partner?

That’s the night out the window. Even if she and Jon try to continue their plans, Jon will just be in a foul mood, and she’s not that much better. Jon’s usually better about keeping his cool, but Damian always riles him up, and the unintended implication that he’d be a better boyfriend for Marinette? Jon isn’t forgetting that tonight. Ironically, that’s exactly what spoils the night, but still. It’s just not worth it.

The only thing Marinette can do is let the boys fight it out, calm herself her own way – maybe she’ll make some cookies – and hope that she’ll still have time to pick up the tail end of date night and cuddle with Jon a bit later on. What a pain.

Both the boys smile, one huge and bright and happy and the other small and subtle and approving, when she bribes them with cookies she makes after a quick nap is worth it, though. And with their obligatory daily fight out of the way, Damian decides that a cookie is good enough and he has better things to do, so Marinette gets her coveted cuddle time.

At least it isn’t a total failure.

It doesn’t take them long to figure out that getting anything done with their best friends around is next to impossible, so Marinette and Jon start taking their dates out of the house. It goes well at first, but they’re sitting in a park, joking and people-watching and enjoying their little picnic, and all of a sudden, as if by magic, unseasonal flower petals begin falling.

Marinette and Jon just share a look and immediately sink their heads into their hands.

True to form, Marinette is happy to attempt to simply ignore it. Even when the music starts, she puts it to the back of her mind. She’s enjoying time with her boyfriend, and she will enjoy that time.

It’s about the time that the rickshaw rolls by and Marinette has flashbacks to “Operation: Secret Garden” that she just can’t take it anymore. She collapses into Jon, burying her head in his chest, muttering, “Kill me.”

Jon chuckles. “Sorry, darling. No can do. We should probably run them off before they summon an airplane to write in the sky for us or something, though.”

“Can they do that?”

“I can hear Damian. So, yeah, I actually think they could.”

Marinette groans again. “Okay. Let’s go. Where are they hiding?”

Jon takes her hand to guide her towards some nearby bushes, behind which Alya and Damian are crouched. “I told you they’d hear you!” Damian hisses. “Honestly, this entire ‘mission’ is so childish!”

“Then why did you agree to it?” Alya spits back. “Don’t act like you weren’t helping!”

“Because if they finally get over themselves, I won’t have to listen to Jon moaning abou-”

Marinette loudly clears her throat, drawing both of their attention. Alya at least has the decency to look sheepish. Damian just turns his nose up at her.

Jon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damian. What, and I cannot stress this enough, the hell are you doing?”

Damian scowls. “This witch friend of yours dragged me out here on what she considers a mission. We’re supposed to manipulate you two into a-”

“Hey!” Alya leaps over to slap her hand over his mouth, but Damian just manages to dance out of range. She does succeed in shutting him up, though. “It’s a secret mission!”

Damian scoffs. “I hardly think matchma-”

Alya dives at him. “I said shut your mouth! You’ll ruin everything!”

Marinette quickly steps in between them to stop either of them from doing something they’ll regret. Jon steps in, too, back to back with her between their friends. “That’s enough!” Marinette says, leaving no room for argument. “Alya, I know exactly what you’re doing. I was there for Operation: Secret Garden, you know.”

Alya opens her mouth soundlessly a few times. “Y-yeah, but…” She gestures insistently over Marinette’s shoulder. To Jon.

“I also don’t need your help setting up a date with my boyfriend, so I’d appreciate it if you would just let us get back to the one we were already on. Please?”

Alya stares at her for a moment, slack-jawed, before screeching. “Boyfriend?!!?!”

Marinette blinks, moving a bit to find Jon’s eyes again. “Yeah. Boyfriend. Wha- oh…” Marinette frowns, tapping her chin. “Oh, we forgot to tell you, didn’t we?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! You got a boyfriend and didn’t tell me?!!?!”

“Yeah…” Marinette mutters, resigned to Alya’s freak-out. “That explains a lot.”

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The cover features Spider-Man, battered and beaten, laying on his face in grime while two unimaginative robots loom over him. This is as accurate a depiction as to the content within that could possibly exist... ...It's the third major franchise spin-off featuring the child of Peter and MJ within less than 24 years and it is clearly the worst and less inspired of them...To compare this comic to garbage or fecal matter is an insult to both, since both have their uses. This is nothing more than nepotistic hack-work of the highest order. Henry Abrams could perhaps be forgiven for being an inexperienced writer who is coasting on his one asset -- his famous father -- for work. But there is no such excuse for J.J. Abrams, who is being heralded as the savior of STAR WARS and some sort of genius for Lost or Alias. I imagine he is acting as a ghost writer at best, allowing his son to "earn his bones" with this, but surely he should be doing a better job of editing it. Surely as the co-producer of "THE SUBURBANS," he has more of a sense of quality control, right? Right!?...This is an office which considers doing a full monthly series with genuine legends like Tom DeFalco and Ron Frenz to be too expensive, yet they likely threw the moon at a "Hollywood guy" and his offspring for little more than having their names on some product to sell. Over a decade's worth of time, energy, and money was devoted to producing this. If the goal was to produce a Spider-Man story that may make fans realize that  Dan Slott or Terry Kavanagh were hardly the worst scribes seen on the franchise, then it has accomplished its mission...This story is a failure for more than one reason. Perhaps the most primary is its failure to present established characters as themselves while catering to the most predictable of action films. Peter Parker acts nothing like himself, and is devoid of any sense of responsibility or genuineness. He's a cipher for the standard inattentive or terrible father for trendy films of the 80's and 90's -- which was when J.J. earned his bones. Ben Parker is a wasteland of anxious teenage tropes who needs to be led around by other people, especially women. His path to the legacy of Spider-Man is absurd and more to do with his vandalizing teenage girlfriend than anything in his own heart and soul. It gave MJ a waste of a death and has created a shell of an antagonist as an obligatory menace...If anything, this issue ups the ante in terms of awfulness due to the addition of more Avengers lore. The other two most famous tales about Spidey's children -- Spider-Girl and Renew Your Vows -- had some involvement from other heroes and franchises, but remained firmly rooted in Spider-Man's world. This mini series barely goes halfway before it establishes that the big threat is essentially a disgruntled Iron Man villain looking for another target. Even a rambling drunk version of Tony Stark, which is itself disgusting for fans who like his symbolism revolving around recovery, is able to provide vital exposition and aid that Ben can't or won't figure on his own. It's EDITH all over again: Even Drunk I'm The Hero...The story doesn't even make sense on a narrative level. If Cadaverous is so interested in Parker DNA to the point that he sics the cyborg-zombie Avengers at Ben even after claiming his father, why even allow him to escape after he's bombed the house? All that did was allow Ben time to alert the only other surviving Avenger and set up his own defeat. Cadaverous is mad as a hatter, but that's still a lame justification, and one lame writers have used to explain poor antagonist decisions forever. How can Tony Stark's bunker be that secret when it is beneath statues which are taller than buildings? And how can Ben hate Peter for abandoning him while he's just abandoned May Parker to a bombed out home?... There is no soul in this Spider-Man, just a cynical regurgitation of every weak Hollywood cliche an overrated scion and his son believe is good enough to charge for... ...It isn't, and shouldn't be. A better use for this would be to donate it to third world countries to be used as fuel for heat or to be recycled into vital paper projects like toiletries. It is easily  one of the worst comic books of 2019, and if someone put it on their decade list of worst comics, I wouldn't argue the point. Comic books like this are why many people either stop reading them, or paying for them. The only thing amazing, sensational, or spectacular about it is its very gall.

Alex Widen on Abramazing Spider-Man #3

[inquistior-a]

@bornpariah​ asked:     𝙸 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙳𝙼𝙸𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝚀𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙴𝚂.

    “Do you think me unaware of your admirable qualities? Or do you seek to reinforce their value by always reminding me?”  The Inquisitor’s brow is arched playfully, enough humour in the warmth of his eyes to thoroughly soften the slight edge to his words. Of course he is aware. They both know that Halwn is unforgivably aware of how specifically and confoundingly fine the mage is, so keen in that awareness that it feels half-cruel for Dorian to remind him—even in teasing.

    There has been a tremendous amount of teasing.

   The scene between them now—not yet half-drunk, sitting on the steps of a darkened stairwell only a few risers apart, avoiding the rabble of the party they are obligated to appear at to secure some invitation or another, glad for the thin excuse to almost let the toes of their boots touch across the distance—is punishingly reminiscent of some various scenes that have played out in Halwn’s life before. Once or twice, at least, but for what is missing. Dorian hasn’t smiled at him in a way that Halwn suspects that he is able, haughty and inviting. A wordless demand that Halwn would bend to without the slightest hesitance, if given the chance. Surely, Dorian knows that, too. His wish, Halwn’s command. The Inquisitor has not been subtle, after all.

    That is, of course, part of the problem. The command. Halwn’s titles, his position. The very real possibility that Dorian simply wants to save the world, not complicate his already complicated life further by indulging the Inquisitor’s obvious desire to tip his head back and kiss him senseless. Dorian values his senses. As he should. Halwn values those senses, too.

    The silence has caught on in that particular way, that way that it tends to between them. The way that indicates that Halwn is thinking of doing something patently,  achingly,  adoringly stupid. Dorian gives him that look, that warning look, that offers no room for argument against it. There will be no discussion of this tonight, it seems. Another tonight, and another tomorrow, then, gone much the same way. Not wasted, of course. Not wasted when they are together, in whatever capacity, though Halwn feels a sharp spike of self-reproach at how easily he accepts less than what he wants. If he were to bend now and kiss Dorian, stretch over him on the stairs, cradle the back of the mage’s head in his hand to have the freedom to kiss the breath out of him without smarting his skull against the stones—

  Halwn pushes himself to his feet and descends a little, and then lingers on the step below where the mage is artfully reclining. He thinks that he can almost hear Dorian’s heart accelerating in his chest, fighting in his breast like a bird. As though reading Halwn’s mind by some dark art or another. Yet Dorian’s face wears the same quizzical, commanding expression, utterly unflinching. He’s a brave man. Fierce, and sharply tenacious. The thought only makes Halwn all the more tempted to kiss him at last. But there is something brittle beneath Dorian’s face, too, beneath his sleek and beautiful facade. Fear. A perfectly understandable, and justified, fear.

    For men like them, love is always a risk—and a man like Halwn, in particular? The Herald of Andraste, the Maker’s Chosen? What a spectacularly bad bet he is likely to be, in the end. It is not a deal he’s willing to entice Dorian to make, Halwn reminds himself, no matter the power of his own desires. His fate will be the same at any likely outcome, but Dorian’s happiness is at risk. His trust, and his willingness to trust. Halwn does not wish to wager that kind of currency.

    It is, all of it, too precious to be unwillingly risked.

    Whatever happens, Dorian must invite it. Some day. Sooner, hopefully, rather than the later that is likely to involve an Archdemon and a field of magickally enhanced fire. Halwn would like to be so certain of his own good intentions. But he’s a military man, too, and a military leader, and he knows how wars like this one are usually won. Gradually, softly—so softly that they do not seem to be fought at all.

   There is only a single candelabara still lit along the staircase and, rather unfairly, its light is draped across Dorian’s shape, reclining on the stairs in all his white and gold silk, all his appealingly flushed skin. He’s been dancing. That thought alone causes an unhappy and utterly ridiculous drop of Halwn’s stomach. It’s not jealousy, precisely, so much as it is a sense of loss. He wants Dorian to be happy in that simple way, and he’d not begrudge him a moment of it —but Halwn also wants to be a part of it, with an admittedly jealous want.

   “The Maker made us all from the same dirt, so the Sisters say.”

    Halwn cants a brow and forces himself to smile, though he’s sure it will be perceived as thin. Dorian’s no fool. It is thin, stretched by the insistent longing that he feels to forgo conversation unless it is to say:  I am in love with you. I have been in love with you for a year. Every day, though it seems impossible, I find I love you more.  They’re not foolhardy boys, making eyes on someone else’s staircase. Testing invisible boundaries. Are they? What should Halwn say? The truth?  Kiss me. I will spend every day for the rest of my life, short as it may be, desperate to make you happy.

    Even to him, it sounds like a poor bargain. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Halwn is going to do it anyway, with or without the kiss.

    That thought lightens him, and Halwn’s smile grows a little warmer, a little more sly. Rather than retreat, he steps into the stairs and bends his body slightly, over Dorian—nearly the same as he’d thought of doing, though missing the press of them together. No, he’d not go that far unasked. He holds himself at a passable distance with a hand on the riser just above and beside Dorian’s head, unable to resist a slight grin at the offended, almost appalled expression on the mage’s face at their sudden proximity. Dorian had given him that look, after all. That should have been the end of it. Still, even as the mage begins to turn towards indignity at Halwn’s sudden defiance of their rehearsed rules, the Inquisitor lifts his own chin and takes keen note of the way that Dorian, perhaps unaware of it, tips his head back just a little in a perfect, answering accommodation of the motion—as if in anticipation of a kiss that hasn’t yet been delivered.

    Halwn smiles, and draws a breath of the scent at Dorian’s throat, the same that’s in his hair, citrus and amber and a faint dark, floral spice, all mingled with skin and its sillage spread by the already long evening, and stands back.

   “I will say, unpressed, that you have polished yourself to a far finer sheen than the rest of us seem able—”  the mirth is gone from Halwn’s posture, replaced with an almost apologetic affection. It’s not his intent to push until something breaks, to trample over boundaries. That is not his nature. Still, he does want, in a way that has gone long unsatisfied—just a sign would be enough, such as Dorian has sometimes given him. A lingering look, an involuntary smile. An apple. An abundance of healing energy. Three long passages read aloud from a book that Halwn could not begin to honestly understand. A coy touch. A sharp rebuke. What else? A kiss. One, and Halwn would be satisfied.

    Halwn’s not a liar, so he doesn’t say such a thing aloud. Instead, he smooths a hand down the front of his jacket, sweeps a hand back through his hair, and sets his soft eyes on Dorian one last time in the dim light of the stairwell. Looks at him a little, and dips his head in appropriate contrition.

    “I should say goodnight. Elsewise, I believe there is a chance that it might go ill between us, and you might end the evening cross with me.”

    Dorian doesn’t answer, but Halwn thinks he hears a quick inhalation.

    “Goodnight, Dorian. Enjoy the party.”

    If you dance with another, please, think all the time of me.

[sashas4t]

Skate Canada: Ladies

OOOOH BOY! This free skate was SO GOOD! Here are some of my thoughts (sorry about the GIFS, I wasn’t in the mood to make any myself):

1. Alexandra Trusova - RUS

I don’t know if I have said this yet, but I love Sasha. I love her courage, her confidence, and her personality. She is taking this sport to new levels, whether you like it or not, and she won’t stop jumping quads, whether you like it or not. Yes, her FS is definitely not very artistic, though its kind of Daniil’s fault, but she’s not a horrible skater with no basics as people say (but like is it just me or have her SS gotten worse?). Her transitions were very good, though that cannot been shown through her FS (which is really Daniil’s fault). Her FS StSq was way to short and slow for my taste, but her SP one is much better. Actually, her step sequence for her FS last year and SP two years before weren’t bad at all, so her basic skills aren’t bad, its just that her choreo doesn’t capitalize her basic skills. Okay, but those quads! Her 4T is really quite nice, not the most effortless thing ever, but she uses toepick, and takes off before 180 degrees. She gets great height and distance too. Shame about the 4S, it was sooo beautiful at Japan Open. Her 4Lz is definitely her weakest quad. Her 3Lz+3Lo was really nice at this competition. Actually scratch that all her triples and her 2A were all so effortless and nice. Maybe her technique isn’t the best, but her jumps are so pleasing to the eye! Also if anyone is still claiming that Sasha shouldn’t be doing quads, I think Ted made a good point in the practice videos - quads are harming to your body if you consistently fall on them, and fall painfully, Sasha is rather consistent with her quads, and even when they looked bad in practice, she pulled them together for competition. She’s definitely no longer falling splat on the ground when attempting them. Continue slaying Sasha! I love my quad queen.

2. Rika Kihira - JPN

When she debuted this program I really was feeling sketchy about it. Her FS last season was so beautiful and epic, and I really had high expectations. While I still prefer A Beautiful Storm, International Angel of Peace has really gotten so much better. I disliked the StSq before because I found it to be slow, but now, I can see how much details there are, and how Rika pays attention to every note every musical accent. Truly wonderful. Her SP is also really good, but I hate the vocals in the StSq it sounds like a cat meowing. Her 3A is quite consistent now too and I can’t wait until she adds a quad (but I’m so scared for Sasha, if Rika adds a quad, there’ll be three girls furiously trying to chase after her). Anyways, Rika’s SS are truly amazing, everything flows so nicely, and there’s such an ease in her skating. I feel so bad for her though, her GP events are so hard! I really hope we can see her in the final. But I agree with her placement here. Maybe if she landed both 3As and added +3T, we’d have something to argue about, but with Sasha’s quads at that level of completion, I don’t think Rika could’ve beaten her even with adjusted PCS.

3. Young You - KOR

Wow what a surprise! I really like Young’s SP this season, even though its a rather basic R&J program, she performs it very nicely. That 3A was wonderful! I didn’t like FS as much. I loved the choreo sequence and I have decided to Stan that Ina Bauer on the music forever, but the middle part (with the upbeat music) was kind of odd. I didn’t think she was super connected in the step sequence. But I’ve got to say, GORGEOUS COSTUMES! She seems to be very consistent in her triples, so that's very good. I hope her 3A consistency grows throughout the season.

4. Bradie Tennell - USA

Sorry Bradie fans, didn’t watch her FS since I don’t really like Bradie. But I do think she’s improved massively. Her Cinderella FS during the Olympic season made me loose all hope in her, but seriously her SP this season is such a big improvement. Girl is finally hitting musical accents without hitting ugly positions. Anyways, fantastic spins, needs to work her rotations. Also needs better costumes, now. 

5. Evgenia Medvedeva - RUS

Zhenya really struggled in the SP here, but that FS! Redemption skate much! I really admire her strength and courage in order to come back from such a rough SP and just skate the absolute best she has since her coaching change. She was determined to hit those jumps, and not only did she accomplish that, she did it with grace. Her SP step sequence though - beautiful. She had such a bad fall on the lutz, and she stood up, caught up to her music, and performed the hell out of her step sequence. Truly a good competitor. I really like her programs this season, they’re definitely more in her comfort zone, but the choreo is very good too. Her technique has also improved considerably, so gutted she’s basically lost her chance for the final, she deserves it. 

6. Marin Honda - JPN

I can’t believe my bb got in a car accident before this - and still skated! I was wondering what the tape on her leg was! Oh poor girl, but she still did amazing! SOOOO UNDERSCORED on PCS. Who thought 31 and 62 was a fair score for what they saw. Should be at least 37 and 74. Anyways, her SP was good, shame about the pop on the flip. I really love that step sequence, and her energy was perfect. Deserved at least 37 for that. But that 3T was underrotated. Marin, please fix your URs! Your such a beautiful skater with so much potential and those URs just... it seems judges use that as an excuse to constantly underscore her. That FS was wonderful! I loved the choreo sequence and the step sequence so much. The in between skating was also so lovely! Just such a good skater! AH! So underscored in PCS. Her jumps are definitely getting better, she needs to get some 3-3s in there and I’m sure she’ll be back at the top of the ladies field! That performance quality though - truly something special.

7. Yelim Kim - KOR

I’ve decided to start staining Yelim this season. She is really quite an elegant skater with such nice lines. She can be very artistic too, I really hope she can do better at Nationals (I don’t think she has a second GP), and go to Four Continents or something. A skater with a lot of potential. I really like how tall she looks in the air, her rippon is beautiful.

8. Serafima Sakhanovich - RUS

I really like her programs this season. The short is fun and upbeat, and the free is dramatic and lyrical. Such a shame she didn’t do as good as she did in domestic competitions. I really love her FS though, maybe because the Umbrellas of Cherbourg is one of my favorite movie soundtracks, or maybe because that choreo sequence is beautiful! I hope Sima gets some other international events this season. She’s such a good skater, and just needs to build consistency.

This free skate was really very good! Almost everybody performed wonderfully. (Poor Gabby though, I hope she can recover quickly for her next event).

[tea-blitz]

Kakairu and this prompt: "Happening to sit next to each other on a park bench, reading the same book." You knoooow which book, right? XD

Iruka all but threw himself down into one of the few empty wooden benches—one sitting in the shade too—that had been set up around the training field.

The Academy was putting on its first-ever Field Day.

It was the worst idea ever, and Iruka full-on regretted ever allowing himself to go along with it (despite his general uneasiness with the idea to begin with). Letting seventy-some-odd students run around completing athletic challenges was a pain in the ass, and the heat of summer only worsened Iruka’s foul mood.

There were a ton of people here for the event: off-duty shinobi (observers and helpers), obnoxiously boisterous parents, and some curious civilians.

Iruka wanted to strangle everybody.

The event started around eight in the morning, and it was going on one in the afternoon. The kids just had their lunch, and now it was time for Iruka to have his own break (and he had absolutely threatened Kotetsu with bodily harm and a month of evil pranks if he couldn’t get a break).

Iruka melted against the bench, he was overheated and annoyed, but the relief he felt sitting in the fortuitous blob of shade was immediate. The greatest tragedy of his life was that he was unable to do wind release jutsu; a nice breeze would have been heavenly

In badly need of a distraction from this plane of hell, Iruka dug out his copy of the new Icha Icha Masquerade and cracked it open to where his bookmark kept his place. Mori-kun had just been approached by a dashing and mysterious man in a silver wolf mask. Iruka was dying to find out how the encounter would play out.

Iruka never used to like Icha Icha. He had always thought it was tasteless porn dressed up in purple prose and called literature. So it came as a surprise to him when one day he decided to see what all the hype was about. He discovered that not only did the author write a rather impressive variety of stories (featuring an equally vast combination of gender identities, sexualities, and kinks), but the writing was actually pretty good if a little cheesy at some parts.

Suffice it to say, Iruka was immediately hooked. He even had to get a new bookcase to hold his growing collection of Icha Icha novels.

So far, Icha Icha Masquerade was his favorite novel. There was something to be said about the suavity of a mysterious, mask-wearing stranger.

“Where are you at in the book?”

It said a lot about Iruka’s mood and energy levels that he didn’t immediately launch himself up off the bench and murder the person next to him. Well, he might have tried to murder the person next to him, but he doubted he could kill Kakashi so easily.

Some days Iruka really wished he could kill the man based on his poor mission reports. He drove the mission desk workers up the wall.

Iruka tilted his head a little to the left to stare at him, taking note of the orange book cradled in the fingers of Kakashi’s left hand.

“Excuse me?”

Kakashi pointed at the novel in Iruka’s own hands. “Where are you at in Icha Icha Masquerade?”

“Oh, uhh Mori-kun just met the man in the wolf mask,” Iruka said. The question had his entire mood shifting.

Kakashi held his own copy of Masquerade up, waving it a bit. “I just got to the part in the garden, after their first meeting—”

Iruka squawked, “No spoilers, Hatake!”

Kakashi snickered and made a placating gesture.

“How long have you been sitting here anyway?” Iruka groused, feeling a little annoyed at himself that he didn’t notice Kakashi was already sitting on the bench.

“A little while, before you showed up,” Kakashi shrugged. “I’m hiding, you see, and so I camouflaged myself.”

Iruka squinted at him; Kakashi seemed amused by something. He guessed the jounin was off-duty and had somehow got roped into the Field Day shitshow. Iruka could definitely appreciate Kakashi’s brilliant idea. And he wouldn’t mind having someone to talk about Icha Icha with.

“Tell you what, you hide us both, I get caught up, and you can tell me who your favorite character in Masquerade is. Sound good?”

Kakashi tilted his head a little, making a show of contemplating Iruka’s offer.

“I can do that,” he said after a moment, then quickly ran through a few hand seals, with his copy of Icha Icha still in hand, and released a small burst of chakra. Iruka felt the brush of an illusion wash over him.

“But I think I can guess who your favorite character already is, Sensei,” Kakashi added once his jutsu was in place.

Iruka snorted. “Oh really? Please, tell me. I’m just dying to know.”

“I’d say Mori-kun is your favorite character. He’s also a school teacher and shares a lot of the same qualities you do.” Kakashi said, and the cloth hiding his face shifted. He was definitely smirking.

“You got a list of my supposed qualities now, do you?” Iruka asked pointedly.

Kakashi shrugged in lieu of a real answer. 

Maybe it was the heat playing tricks on him, but Iruka swore he could see a blush on the one-quarter of Kakashi’s face that wasn’t hidden. And he most certainly enjoyed the way the question made the jounin shift (which honestly translated into him squirming) awkwardly. Everyone loved Mori-kun, and Iruka did too. He was a good, well-balanced character and Iruka was flattered by Kakashi’s subtle compliment.

“Mori is everyone’s favorite, but I think I’m more partial toward mysterious men in masks. There’s just something about them that drives me wild.” Iruka smiled.

He definitely enjoyed the way Kakashi’s breath hitched.Send me a prompt

[philipchircop]

Give yourself the greatest gift: Learn to do nothing

by ELIZABETH RENZETTI GLOBE AND MAIL | SATURDAY 21ST DECEMBER, 2019

We gluttons don’t need GPS. Our noses are the finest technology the universe will ever produce. So I followed mine to the Christmas markets of Berlin, where I had to choose between the seductive kartoffelpuffer and the saucy dampfnudeln, the aromatic lebkuchen and the sugary almonds. Who am I kidding? There was no choosing. I ate them all. It’s Christmas time, and someone else is cooking. Someone who has a PhD in carbs.

I’ve lived in Berlin since the summer, and I’ve been waiting for the Christmas markets every day, like the rapidly aging child I am. There are 2,500 Weihnachtsmarkt across Germany, and dozens in the capital alone. At the LGBTQ market in Nollendorfplatz, I listened to the MC wish everyone “peace, love and rhythm” for 2020. At the historic market in Friedrichshain, I threw an axe at a plywood bear, watched the axe thud dully to the ground and took it as proof (as if any were needed) that I should never leave the city.

At the giant market surrounding Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, I watched the crowd stream through heavy-duty bollards placed there after a terrorist drove a truck into the crowd in 2016, killing 12. The attack happened on Dec. 19 and three days later, the market was open again, because this is Europe, and more specifically Berlin. The city has been through worse. And, as I’d come to understand, you don’t mess with the Christmas markets.

Mainly, though, I watched people doing very little of anything. They came, maybe they bought an ornament or a balloon for their kids, and then they stood around eating sausages and drinking gluehwein (I’m sorry, I don’t come up with the stereotypes, I just observe them). They stared into the fire, or chatted with friends. Almost no one had their phones out. It felt like there was a life lesson on display: Here was a way to be quiet, communal and generally purposeless, even in the middle of the most frenzied season of the most frenzied year at the end of a truly bonkers decade. Not good bonkers either, like Iggy Pop dancing, but bad, dangerous, sanity-ravaging bonkers. “The age of perpetual crisis,” the Guardian called it, and it’s hard to disagree.

What do you do when stillness is impossible to find, when your attention is being shredded like a constantly flapping flag in a gale-force wind? Well, you could take a page from one of the most useful books I read this year, Jenny Odell’s How to do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy. “Nothing is harder to do than nothing,” writes Ms. Odell, an artist and teacher in Oakland, Calif. “In a world where our value is determined by our productivity, many of us find our every last minute captured, optimized, or appropriated as a financial resource by the technologies we use daily.”

What she proposes is not a “digital detox,” which merely presses a person’s reset button before sending her back into the rat race, but something much more radical and resonant. We should instead question our very ideas of productivity, and wonder on whose behalf we are being productive (and who is profiting from our attention). She argues for an intense focus on the people and animals and landscape right under our noses, a concept she calls “placefulness.” Above all, she’s not talking about running away from the world and its problems, but marshalling our limited attention and energy in order to fight more productively for what matters – as opposed to feeling like a flag at the mercy of the storm.

It helped me to be in a different place to understand placefulness – especially one that is comfortable with doing nothing. I had no idea before moving here, but Germans – Berliners in particular – relax very hard. It is perfectly acceptable, my German teacher said, to use “ich faulenze” (essentially, I’m loafing) as an excuse for not going out. Germany’s productivity is famously high, and yet the country falls at the lowest end of the OECD in terms of hours actually worked. You work, and then you stop, and then you might have a beer. Servers at a restaurant will not bring the bill to your table until you ask for it, often more than once, because nobody’s in a particular hurry (they also don’t live on tips, which helps).

If you’d told me that Germany would teach me to relax, I would have asked what kind of mushrooms were in your omelette. But it is, in fact, true. This country has entire days set aside for proper rest: Sunday shopping, for example, is limited to a few days a year. And heaven help you if you break the peace of the ruhezeit, or rest time. There is no leaf-blowing allowed on Sundays, no boisterous barbecuing. In our apartment building, even putting bottles in the communal recycling on Sunday earns serious stink-eye from the neighbours. Poor savage, they seem to be thinking, she does not understand the rules of calm.

Doing nothing is particularly hard at this time of year, when it feels like there are more demands on your time than Quality Streets in the tin. You’re not meant to be working, and yet find yourself working harder, and often more pointlessly, than ever. Busyness becomes its own reward, a refuge of sorts from having to confront your thoughts. Doing nothing is not for sissies, to paraphrase someone wise on the subject of old age. It is hard. It is a radical divergence from the pack. And it just might be the best gift you can give yourself.