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

[copperpipes]

Tarantulas was ready to become a mom by the end of that episode

I would have loved an episode where nightshade goes feral and like starts hunting twitch and the human maltos (cuz they're prey sized compared to them)

Even if they just go feral for an episode my life would be complete 😌

And who had the briliant thought of giving the owl character an eagle ( edit.1: sorry, hawk. Thank you taggers) call? I just wanna talk :)

Edit.2 : I GET THAT ITS A HAWK YOU CAN STOP TELLING ME GEEZ

[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

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 27

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-26 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Drugs and drug mentions, manhandling, swearing, violence, and gore mention

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: TEENAGE WASTELAND    

      Arthur remembered well how to find Benji’s house. He had to pick up Arch from the narrow condo a few times in the past. They would always emerge from there a little bleary eyed and tipsy. He never said anything to Charlotte. Not once. To him, it was just a normal part of the teenage experience. He’d try to sober them up and send them home with a good enough excuse that their little bender would be over-looked as an innocent sleepover- without the sleep.

      Persephone had used all of her remaining strength to launch him back into the mortal world, and Charlotte would have to remain behind for now- until they were able to open a door to the Labyrinth from the Underworld.

      At least he wouldn’t have to worry about his sister. She would be safe with the gods.

      At least Persephone dropped him in the middle of the city this time. His first visit plunked him in the middle of abandoned farmland and it took too much time to steal a truck into the city to kill Lyrem. He ended up finding Arch in the back alley instead. It felt like it was only yesterday he was stabbed in the leg while trying to rescue them.

      The creaking of a window shutter opening nearby filled the courtyard with a familiar Bob Dylan song and the poor mimic of a kid trying to sing along to it. Ballad of a Thin Man, and it was definitely Benji.

      Arthur walked up to the window, feeling like there was nothing that would stop him from getting to Arch and he rapped on the open shutter.

      “Benji!”

      The drifting smoke and strong skunk smell made Arthur back off from the window again. Benji didn’t hear him.

“And somebody points to you and says, ‘It's his’”

        “Benji!!”

“And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"”

                    “BENJI!”

        “And you say, "Oh my God! Am I here all alone?!"

         At this point, Arthur stuck his head through the window, and watched him in the corner high as a kite with a tall bong sitting on a table in front of him. The boy continued singing and acting out the lyrics with impeccable quality of a stage performer.

        “But something is happening and you don't know what it is

Do you… Mr. Jones?”

        At the last line, Benji turned toward the window to see Arthur’s scraggly face, impatient and red as a brick with the anger of not being heard. Benji jumped back, eyes wide.

        “Benji, finally! I’ve been calling you from outside!”

        “Dude,” Benji swallowed, growing pale and looking sickly. “Not again man, I don’t know what drug you forced into me, but I do not want anymore.”

        Arthur scrunched his face, “what are you talking about?”

        Benji shut off the music from his phone, and approached the window wearily.

        “Look man, I know you and Arch are close so I’m not gonna play this game with you. I don’t have any, and I don’t deal opiates. I’m not telling you who does, either. You gotta get clean.”

        Arthur hopped up, and popped himself up through the window. Jumping down, he landed in a pile of dirty laundry.

        “I’m not here to deal,” he explained, “I need your help with something.”

        “I said I don’t wanna be the guinea pig for your shitty mushrooms, dude! Get out!” Benji opened his bedroom door. If he needed to make a break for it from the crazy man, he would.

        “I’m not trying to give you drugs!” Arthur reached out, and pulled Benji in by the arm. “Last night at prom you were sent to a different world. I need you to help me get there.”

        Benji was plopped down on his old bed, and he didn’t try to move any further. He rubbed his arm where Arthur had held him and massaged the bruises that he had started forming. This man was crazy; he was insane and his timing was WAY off.

        “Prom… was like, a week ago, dude,” he said meekly. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got super high that night and I saw some really crazy shit, and I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

        Arthur sighed and scratched the top of his head, only then realizing how disgusting his hair had become. He probably didn’t smell too great either.

        “Look, kiddo, I’m really sorry that you’ve been dragged into this- but right now, I need you to listen to me.

        Arch was taken by that creature that I lit on fire. That wasn’t a bad trip, it really happened. And now I need to get to where Arch is. The only place I can think of that they were sent is the same place that you went that night at prom. That’s the working theory, anyway. I’m not giving up on it.”

        Benji interrupted. “But I don’t… I don’t understand… I know that there was a point in time I got really muddy… or I fell into a puddle of oil or crude or something sick like that, but…”

        His nails lifted toward his teeth, and he started biting between words. His breaths shortened.

        “Nah, nah man. I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

        Arthur nodded. He couldn’t expect Benji to understand or believe him, so he gave up. Instead, he focused his energies toward creating the portal. Whether Benji had believed him or not, shouldn’t matter. The kid was still sent to that realm whether he chose to remember it or not.

        “Dude?”

        Arthur’s eyes were closed, and he was holding out his hand to hopefully create the portal as Benji watched on.

        “Dude! I told you to get out”-

        Nothing was happening yet, but Arthur continued to concentrate the best he could with Benji’s distracting shouts. He grabbed Benji’s arm, hoping that it would be enough.

        “DAD HELP! There’s a crazy junkie in my room!”

        Shit. Arthur didn’t have any more time. He broke his concentration and wrapped a hand over Benji’s mouth to stop his yelling, but it was too late. Footsteps that were loud and heavy started pounding down the hall from the kitchen.

        “Fuck!” he shouted out. He released Benji reluctantly, and his face was splattered with regret. He turned back toward the window. Instead of seeing the trees and the grass and the cars lining the street, he saw black. A void into the next realm that was just large enough for him, and it was shrinking.

        “Benji? Everything okay bud?”

        Benji froze. As he had turned to show his father the man who had tormented him, he saw the pitch-black void that had erupted in his room and the man standing before it, hesitant to step into it. The wide shouldered man who was Benji’s father pulled his son away and stepped back. Neither of them, completely able to comprehend what was in front of them.

        Arthur stood still in front of it, fearing the way forward. Then one hand emerged along with another. Grabbing Arthur by the shoulders, they pulled him in, and he was finally consumed by yet another void.

        He fell, crashed into the dark glass that carpeted the expansive land of rolling hills and flatlands. Arthur only hoped he had ended up where he needed to be, and that the hands that pulled him through were at least, friendly ones.

        Supporting himself with his arms, he looked up from the ground and saw a familiar set of legs standing in front of him. Then one of them kicked out, landing into his side and he fell again, this time, laying on the ground completely. After wincing through the sudden blow, he blinked, seeing the last of the void turn to nothing and a deep orange sky took its place. He groaned, clutching his ribs.

        “That, was for stabbing me,” Lyrem’s face came closer into view as stood over Arthur.

        Arthur wasn’t really in the mood to argue with the dead man, but he didn’t seem to care terribly.

        “Worth it,” he mustered, and rolled back to where he was before.

        “And you can finish that sentence by thanking me for saving you from the Depths of Despair,” Lyrem sniffed. He looked around, mildly paranoid that Paimon wouldn’t be far behind.

        “I’ll thank you when I’m good and dead,” Arthur stood, brushing himself off, and pulled some of the glass from his calloused fingers. “For now, I need to find Arch and bring them home.”

        “Not so simple a deed-” Lyrem said simply. He turned, heading towards the mouth of an open cave. But Arthur had different ideas, and pulled the old man up close, by the collar of his shirt until they were nearly nose to nose. He growled into his face, but Lyrem was hardly put off by the close contact.

        “Don’t fuck around with me, because I am not in the mood!” Arthur studied the man’s face as it was still inscrutably unfazed.

        “Listen very carefully, Arthur. Arch trusts Paimon now- quite possibly more than they trust me or you. I’ve been here long enough to see that their bond has strengthened. We need to play this wisely or else Arch will become Paimon’s next plaything. He is too strong for either of us to defeat on our own,” Lyrem spoke calmly, lowering his voice until it was just a little more than a whisper. “We need Apollo.”

        Arthur pushed him away and pulled out the jar of holy water from one of his cargo pockets.

        “Arch wouldn’t trust a demon more than me,” he said with confidence.

        “Ah- Paimon isn’t a demon.” Lyrem countered. He straightened his shirt collar and pointed toward the jar in Arthur’s hand. “He’s a god. And you would be wise to put away the jar of lynx urine before you spill it on yourself.”

        Arthur looked down at the jar. It was a tinge yellow. He scoffed, exhausted though he was of talking. He unlatched the top, popping the rubber seal and sniffed. He grimaced, and held it far from his nose.

        “A god? And hold on- this is lynx piss?” Arthur questioned. He latched it again. Lyrem didn’t seem to be lying. He seemed to be quite sure of himself, in fact. “Why… Why did you have a jar of lynx piss in your back room?”

        Lyrem waved him off.

        “I needed it to summon a Goddess”

        “Why were you summoning a Goddess with lynx piss?”

        “Because my wife had cancer”

        Arthur stared at him blankly until Lyrem decided to explain himself in slightly more detail.

        “The urine is solidified into a crystal under several moon phases and then engraved with- you know what”-

        Lyrem hushed him at this point, wondering if it would be easier to just put him asleep and drag him to Paimon himself. He thought better of that and ushered the man nearer to the mouth of the cave. Arthur placed the bottle inside his pocket again.

        “If you want Arch to come out of this alive, then you must follow my lead. Paimon is powerful here and if we want to avoid suspicion, then we must play the parts convincingly. Starting,” he said, poising himself, “with this.”

         “What? With wha”-

        Arthur received a blow to the side of his head. One strong enough that it forced him to keel over onto his side, and before he had any time to recover, Lyrem’s knee connected with the front of his face, knocking him flat on his back. He wheezed out.

        “You… asshole!”

        “Nice and bloody just how Paimon likes,” Lyrem winced a bit as he walked around his backside and rounded him. Finding the jeweled knife on his belt, Lyrem took it away from him. “I know you would do anything for Arch- that is the one redeeming quality of yours.”

        Next, he pulled up to Arthur’s right side as he was busy nursing his nose. Lyrem licked his lips and then pressed a foot down into his thigh. Loud, agonizing howls filled the air, and Lyrem relished in it. He didn’t let up until his was certain his leg had fallen back into disrepair.

        “But the question, I think that is on everyone’s mind, Arthur,” Lyrem picked him up, and dragged him forward. “-is whether or not Arch would do anything for you.”

        Lyrem lifted up his eyes to the opening. Seeing the figure of Paimon stepping through the threshold, he grinned wickedly.

        “I believe I’ve found a little gift from your uncle, and Arch’s next carving project.”

        Paimon tilted his head, hiding his excitement with a smirk of mild amusement and crouched down. In his left hand he presented Arthur’s strained looks with his own bowie knife.

        Arthur shook as the knife approached his face, threatening to make the first cut deeply against his cheekbone- but Paimon pulled it away just in time. Arthur let out a relieved, heavy breath and stared down at the obsidian carpet as the sweat dripped off his temples. He heard the gritty voice of Paimon above him.

        “I think we’ll have to place a little bet.”

        “Oh? What are you thinking?” Lyrem asked, adjusting his collared shirt around the nape of his neck.

        “I bet you that Arch can carve out his heart in five minutes or less,” Paimon proposed, “blindfolded.”

        Arthur’s head snapped up in alarm, eyes wide and blinking through blood.

        Lyrem raised an eyebrow, “and if they fail? If they take longer than five minutes?”

        Paimon considered all of the things in the world that Lyrem could want. He wanted the bet to be interesting, after all. Taking a tour of Mount Olympus, giving him a vial of water from the fountain of youth, or bringing him Phillip as a fun little reward would be all great and wonderful ideas but-

        “Let Arch go…” Arthur interjected, “If they can’t do what you say in five minutes or less, then let them go- Back to Earth and back to their real life.”

        Lyrem hesitated- not something that he often did. His eyes darted to the man and up to Paimon, gauging his reaction. Would Paimon take it?

        It wouldn’t be so easy, would it?

        Paimon held a finger to his lips in contemplation, then swiftly brought a hoof down on Arthur’s back, forcing him into the jagged slices of volcanic glass. He grunted and seethed into the ground.

        “I accept the bet, although it will take me some time to decide what I want when I win; when Arch succeeds well beyond my expectations and rips your heart from your chest,” Paimon smiled. “Oh, you would have been so proud, Arty. I do wish I had taken a picture for you of what they did to young Marcus… For now, I’ll have you locked in a cell until I make up my mind about what I want.”

        Paimon lifted his hoof off of Arthur’s back. He let out a sigh of relief in that there was at least some hope for Arch after all.

[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. 

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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.

[eirenical]

The Next Best Thing (2/?)

Wei Wuxian is gone, lost from a rendezvous in Yiling that never happened.  Many people may miss him, but Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji need him.  And they’ll do whatever it takes to find him and bring him home… even if it means learning to rely each other.

June 14, 2020: The response to the first part was so touching and a little overwhelming, so I went ahead and made time to edit the second part.  Of course, that means I have nothing new to offer past this just yet, but hopefully that won't be true for long.  ^_^   (If there are any particular scenes or things you'd like to see from those three months, you can always pop over to my tumblr and let me know; maybe a prompt or two might help me move it along.  ;D) 

Also on AO3 | Part 1 (tumblr) (AO3) | tumblr tag: #t: the next best thing (chronlogical order)

They’re so young.

Jiang Cheng cast a weary eye over his newly recruited disciples. It had been nearly impossible to gather any without even a proper sect hall to bring them together. Nearly impossible… but wasn’t that the Jiang Clan motto? Attempt the impossible? Wei Wuxian had always made it look so easy. He’d been not just attempting the impossible but achieving it for as long as Jiang Cheng had known him. Had Wei Wuxian been at his side, they’d probably have had all the recruits they needed and had Lotus Pier all but rebuilt already on the force of his enthusiasm alone.

But Wei Wuxian wasn’t here. Wei Wuxian wasn’t here, and Jiang Cheng had only himself to take his place.

So young.

So, they were young. So was Jiang Cheng. So was Wei Wuxian. So was Lan Wangji. So were they all. Youth was no longer the end-all excuse for not pulling your weight. This war had claimed so many lives already; in many cases the young were all who were left to stand and fight. And they would. They would stand and fight until it killed them unless Jiang Cheng could pull off a miracle.

Unless he could attempt the impossible… and achieve it.

Far too aware of the Lan Sect disciples practicing their oh-so-perfect forms on the other side of the beaten earth of the yard, Jiang Cheng raised his borrowed sword and once more began the painstaking process of demonstrating the first of the Jiang sword forms. They felt wrong without Sandu in his hands. They felt wrong without Wei Wuxian standing beside him. They felt wrong without Suibian to cross blades with. They felt wrong without his father standing over him, judging every move he made and finding it wanting. Everything about this felt wrong, but Jiang Cheng was going to push through it, anyway. He had no choice.

Several hours later, Jiang Cheng was exhausted, wrung out both physically and emotionally from the toll of training raw recruits, many of whom had never held divine steel in their hands before. He hadn’t been able to be particular when recruiting. If they were willing to join a Sect that had been razed to the ground and whose reputation hung in tatters, Jiang Cheng took them. If they were willing to join a Sect that could give them nothing, not even good quality swords with which to fight, Jiang Cheng took them. If they were willing to join a Sect whose only virtue was an unwillingness to give up and roll over for death, then Jiang Cheng took them. But it would take far more than hard work and hope to forge this band of raw hopefuls with nothing left to lose into a Sect that Jiang Cheng could be proud of.

It would take a miracle.

Wei Wuxian could have done it. He could have done it with a smile on his face and a dance in his steps, and every recruit on that field would have half fallen in love with him before he was through. Jiang Cheng had seen it before. But Wei Wuxian wasn’t here, and Jiang Cheng was still the poorest of poor substitutes.

Dismissing his new disciples for the day, Jiang Cheng walked over to the water barrel and raised the dipper to take a drink before lifting it higher to pour the rest over his overheated head, sighing in relief as the cool water did its work. If his mother were here, she’d have scolded him for that. If his father were here, he’d just have shaken his head in disappointment and walked away. If Wei Wuxian were here… he’d have been the one to pour the water.

Straightening his back, Jiang Cheng walked back out into the middle of the field. Spending entire days demonstrating moves at one quarter of the speed would not do anything to bring his own skills and stamina back to where they needed to be. Closing his eyes, Jiang Cheng raised his borrowed sword, waited one single beat for his imaginary opponent to take his place—Wei Wuxian, it was always Wei Wuxian—and then he leapt into motion. This sword was not Sandu, would never be Sandu, and his imaginary opponent was not really Wei Wuxian, would never be Wei Wuxian, but it was a start.

Jiang Cheng ran through the forms as though his life depended on their successful completion. He ran through them first at quarter speed, focused more on balance and precision than power, then at half speed, then finally at full speed, putting as much force into each move as he dared without an opponent to block his borrowed blade. But when Jiang Cheng finally reached the last of the forms, spiritual energy coursing through him, racing down his meridians with the crackle of purple lightning, and brought his sword down for the last set of moves… it met another with a resounding clang. Jiang Cheng’s eyes flew open.

Lan Wangji.

What?

After that one moment of hesitation, Jiang Cheng renewed his efforts, stepping up his speed as he began the first form once again. Lan Wangji matched him, move for move, form for form, blow for blow, as though he’d been practicing the Yunmeng Jiang sword forms all his life. But how? Jiang Cheng pushed harder, leaping higher, turning faster, throwing his all into the moves in a way he’d never dared with anyone who wasn’t Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji continued to match him, strike for strike, until they reached the last form, again. The move that Lan Wangji performed then was unlike any of the Jiang forms that had come before it, but it wasn’t a Lan sword form, either. And in that one move, Jiang Cheng understood everything he needed to understand about how Lan Wangji had learned the Jiang sword forms. Because the only reason that that move didn’t take Jiang Cheng's head right off his shoulders was that he’d met it on the training field before.

It was Wei Wuxian’s favorite.

And in the whistling of Lan Wangji’s blade as it met his, strike after strike after strike, in the calm certainty of Gusu Lan arms lifting in Yunmeng Jiang sword forms—forms that had to have been learned through observation alone—Jiang Cheng understood something else as well.

This was Lan Wangji’s way of saying: “I miss him, too.”

When they finally came to a halt, saluting each other with arms heavy with more than just exhaustion, the new Jiang recruits erupted into applause and raucous cheers. The Lan disciples did no such thing, but they were on the edge of the yard along with the Jiang recruits, hanging on every move their Lan-er-gongzi made. Jiang Cheng ignored them, turning instead to his own recruits. Their eyes were alight with awe, smiles wide upon their faces, pride written in every line of their bodies as they surged around Jiang Cheng, already peppering him with questions, their enthusiasm a living, pulsing thing.

They’re so young… and that is why we will win.

[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).