#I cannot for the life of me find the document this was drawn in so yall get the ss i shared on discord

[beautysnake]

doodle from november

[thanquan]

A letter lost in the piles of documents and papers (Ukitake Jushiro x Male! OC)

Perhaps it was just another letter from countless of admirers.

Set in pre-TYBW.

From the barracks of Squad 13, where the moon is high and the night is as peaceful.

To my Lieutenant,

As I write these lines, a gentle breeze brushes through the tree canopies in the garden, carrying with it the whispers of time. In this fleeting moment, I wonder if you, too, can feel the same breeze as I do. But I suppose not—after all, you are carrying out your duties in the Human World. We are so far apart that this breeze could never reach you. Yet, even so, I want to believe that it carries whispers to you—words I lack the courage to say aloud.

Perhaps I am not skilled at expressing my feelings. Perhaps I fear that once spoken, these words will shatter the fragile peace in our relationship. It would be better if we remained nothing more than superior and subordinate, I know that. But I have failed to keep my own resolve. I’ve tried, Quan, and I’ve failed. Do you know? When I look into your eyes, I finally understand the allure of treasures that drive people to risk everything for a fleeting chance at wealth. And when those eyes lower slightly, veiled by your thick lashes, I find myself wishing time would stop for just a moment—like the noonday sun casting its shadows still beneath the trees. I think your eyes hold my soul captive in just the same way.

My dearest Quan,

I’ve always thought myself unworthy of anyone’s affection, and that I should not disrupt anyone’s feelings with my fleeting existence. My body is frail, as fragile as a blade of grass trembling in the storm; my life is but a small ripple navigating through jagged rocks. Ukitake Jushiro—someone teetering between life and death—should steer clear of the extravagance of earthly emotions. And yet, somehow, you’ve drawn back the curtain of moonlight and reached a corner of my heart in a way no one else ever has. You didn’t have to say much or do much, and before I knew it, your mere presence became enough to calm the storms within me.

There were long nights when I lied awake, thinking of you. My dear lieutenant, am I being selfish to keep you in my thoughts like this? To wish that you could stay here forever?

I do not hope for you to read these words, and perhaps that is for the best. Let this letter rest quietly among the many you receive from admirers who hold you in high regard. Writing this has lightened my heart somewhat. Unlike Shunsui, you know I am not one to drown my sorrows in drink, so I have chosen to bare my soul through the tip of my brush instead.

I’ve always tried to maintain a certain distance between us. And my dear lieutenant, I don’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed by how naturally you’ve accepted that awkward gap. Perhaps it’s for the best; at least I don’t have to worry about whether I’m expressing myself well—because, after all, it seems you wouldn’t give it much thought either. I’ve always thought you were a bit indifferent by nature. I once admired that cold, composed side of you—when I hadn’t yet fallen for you. But now, my heart is trampled underfoot, just like so many others who’ve been ensnared by you. I now understand their pain, though I suppose I am still more fortunate than most. At least you cannot entirely distance yourself from me overnight, as you so often do with others. I am still your captain after all. I don’t want to cling to you through the ties of rank, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel a selfish satisfaction when you show me care in those moments. It turns out I am not as virtuous as I thought—I should have realized that sooner.

I do not wish for you to reciprocate these feelings, my lieutenant. I only hope you know that you are more than just my subordinate. You are the lighthouse guiding me through the thickest storms of my soul. You know, you often say that you will always stand by me, that you will shoulder the burdens of Squad 13 with unwavering dedication. I know you say those words with the loyalty of a lieutenant—but sometimes, I can’t help but wish that somewhere deep within, they carried another meaning. A meaning I don’t dare hope for, but cannot stop yearning as well.

If only, my dear.

From your captain,

Ukitake Jushiro

[quiet-admirer]

What you wrote about the shift in the online definition of feedism is interesting to me! I was exploring the online scene during that time (2011), too, and I feel a bit the same and a bit opposite. I saw “feedism” being used as a catchall term that folks lumped everything involving eating or gaining weight under. Stuffing and bloating were included under “feedism.” Even vore was occasionally under that umbrella.

I think now I see it as similar to the label of “queer” vs more specific labels within the queer identity. Queer itself can be an identity or an umbrella term. Like feedism can be a kink in its own right, or an umbrella term for other kinks. I hope this makes sense.

Sorry for sitting on this ask for ages, I was trying to find a few sources I *know* I have read with different definitions of fat fetish related terms, and I was curious to look back and them and see what they said. One was an older webpage and one a 2010s-ish? webzine, I believe, with like infographics and everything, but for the fucking life of me I cannot find them!

That's interesting, though! I agree, I have definitely heard feedism used as an umbrella term for as long as I've known it, I just don't think it was as common back in the day in my memory. It was (/is?) my impression that people who weren't as invested in the nitty-gritty of various terms used a looser definition, kind of like people now who don't distinguish between "feedism" and "feederism".

But with all of this kind of stuff I can never tell what might have been representative of the communities at large and what might have been a reflection of the specific slice of the Internet I happened to be exposed to, so who knows. The way feedism was always explained to me when I was learning about it was a feeding dynamic 🤷‍♂️ That's more useful for me personally but I don't make the rules about how other people want to identify, and I've kind of started seeing in the past year or 2 that if I really cared enough to make it a battle it would be a losing one lol, all the youths seem to be using it as an umbrella term to mostly mean weight gain kink at this point. I also may be 100% wrong and just made up the definition in my head without realizing it back in the day and have run with it for years!

I do think that it's worth being very intentional about how terms are defined and used in formal or academically-minded writing about ourselves, though, and making sure we're acknowledging the nuances in how the term is used, and I think my points I made in my reply to the post we're referencing still stand.

I once read a line in a paper or article or something that expressed the opinion that after so much research done on BDSM over the decades on what BDSM, what engaging in fetish dynamics and acts "means", the most solid conclusion that can be drawn is that the BDSM community are the worst people to ask about what BDSM means because nobody fucking knows and there is 0 consensus lol. I imagine it would be similar for our side of the tracks, too, there's a lot of variation and diversity among us.

What I really wish could happen is getting a huge sample of free-text submissions of terminology definitions from people in the fat/feeding/weight gain fetish realms just to see what everyone's similarities and differences were!

(and this is why we need to document and preserve and archive our shit, it sucks that it's so hard to go back and compare how we were defining ourselves in the past!)

[amburly]

word count: 2959

a/n: hii. i literally cannot write. srry this kinda sucks and is rlly long. i got inspo from west side story!! i wanna create a blurb for my cutie patootie mae but i'm not sure how. i also wanna incorporate my music taste bc i love music but idk how imma do that too.

DIAMONDS AND RUST

CHAPTER 2 5:17 PM - April 3rd, 2001

“Daddy?” I say, as my dad looks at a document. All I can see from this angle is “Zweig Industries”. It’s that big company, the one that’s taking down my neighbourhood, and replacing it for the newer, “futuristic”, looking buildings. They want to “innovate” the neighbourhood. What they really mean is to get rich families to move in, with their custom-made designer purses, spoiled children, and cheating husbands, but most importantly, to get all the immigrants to move out. I’m drawn back to the document. What’s it for? His face is stern, with a slight frown, and his breathing is heavy. “Stupid company..” My dad mumbles before slamming down the document. “Why? What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, dismissing me, using his hand to shoo me off.

I try to glimpse at the paper, but it’s face down on our dining room table. I walk away, looking at my dad, worriedly.

7:30 PM - September 9th, 2006

Fuck him. Fuck Zweig and his shitty fucking company. Fuck his eyecatching grin. Fuck his family. At this point, he looked away, breaking the eye-contact. I almost broke the glass bottle with the juice in it, I swear. What was he doing here? Did his daddy buy him an invite? For what he did to my family, and the others, he didn’t deserve to be here. Tashi walked over, probably because she couldn’t find me. “What’s wrong Mae?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

I ignored her, too in thought about what was happening. She must’ve noticed my gaze at Patrick and the other boy, and looked over to them. She smirked. 

“You wanna talk to them or something?” She nudged me with her elbow, to get my attention.

“No. No! Do you know who that is?” I said, my mood shifting. “Who?” “Zweig.” I replied.

“Oh wait, they’re the junior boys winner.” Tashi said, pointing out the other boy, but my focus going back to Patrick

So that’s why he’s here.. Then the other boy must be a tennis player too. He’s probably as stuck up as Zweig. Does Patrick know what he did? How he almost ruined my life? 

“You have a crush on them or something?” Tashi said, catching me off-guard.

I looked at her like she just killed someone. Then I remembered, I never told her. I probably should’ve, considering why she’s my best friend, but I don’t talk about it. She chuckled at me, probably because I almost never get mad. 

“Sorry, it’s just.. I have some backstory with Zweig.” I said.

“Did you guys hook up? Exes?” She said,

There’s no way that’d ever happen. Even if I didn’t have a death-threat towards him, he’s rich. Me and Tashi grew up in middle-class families, so we wouldn’t even be able to talk to him. Maybe Tashi, since she had connections in tennis. And even if I did grow up rich, there’s no way I’d fall for someone who demolished neighbourhoods with such history towards them, and market them to rich families. Sure, maybe he looked great, but he’s a Zweig. And there’s no amount of beauty or charm that could tempt me into falling for a Zweig.

“No, no. I just don’t like his family. And please..” I looked at her sympathetically, hoping she’d listen. “Don’t ask me any more questions.. I don’t like to talk about it. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Tashi said, taking a sip of her drink, without hesitation.

That was one of the main things I liked about Tashi. She never pushed you into doing anything you didn’t want to. And if she really wanted it, and you declined, she’d get it no matter what. 

“Thanks.” I gave her a half-smile.

1:00 PM - April 17th, 2001

The sale prices and posters on our shop were inevitable. The Zweig company had been demolishing every building, and people have been moving. Some people to other states, some to a town not so far away, and some even to Canada. My family doesn’t have enough money to move. My dad said we had to make “sacrifices” to leave. My dad has been working extra hard to get the last stuff in the convenience store to sell out, but most of our customers have already moved, and the others couldn’t afford to buy gum or magazines. I stay even later now to help my dad pack up the store, and take off all the decorations from Lunar new year that we forgot to take down. My mother has been worrying about him. She tells me about it, sometimes, when she has had a little bit too much to drink. She tells me about the arguing and how Zweig Industries is a money-hungry company, and that we are nothing alike to them. 

“Go to stanford one day. Become a lawyer. You will save us from.. This.” She says, swirling the red wine in her cup.

“Okay.” My mumbling is barely audible, but she manages to hear me still, and gives me a proud sly smile.

If it makes her happy, I’ll do it. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire by being a bad daughter. She’s already got lots on her plate, she has to help pack, make us food every day, and get along with daddy. Daddy can be hard to get along with, I agree. It’s hard though. How can I go to stanford? I’m not that smart.

“Go to sleep.” She says, looking down at her cup.

I get up from the chair and go to my room. My sewing machine and all my fabric is on the floor, I was hoping to clean it up today, but I’m too tired. The view does draw me back to what my mother says. ‘Become a lawyer.’ I really want to help our family, I do. I mean, we barely have enough money as is, and becoming a lawyer is technically going to help me but.. I don’t want to. Is that selfish of me? Is it bad? I want to design and create, not read documents or whatever lawyers do. Whatever, I’ll think about this tomorrow.

7:32 - September 9th, 2006

“Let’s go sit down. I’m tired.” Tashi announced

“Okay.” We found a seat near the dancefloor, eyeing Anna Mueller again. She’s crying, still. Hasn’t she accepted that she’s lost already? And second place is still good, she should be happy. Just then, the blonde boy and Patrick Zweig showed up.

“Hi, I’m Patrick Zweig. Art Donaldson.” They greeted.

They seemed pretty eager to talk to Tashi, rushing towards her as soon as we left. Makes sense. She just has this energy, this aura, that makes her so compelling. “I know who you are. You’re fire and ice, right?” Tashi replied.

The fuck? Why are all tennis names so random? They must be good though. Y’know, winning the juniors after all. It’s no easy feat. But, if you have connections, like the Zweig has, you have to be good. They didn’t earn it. Not like Tashi did. She didn’t have connections to all the good players and coaches, she just won some random tennis competition and got all those connections. 

“Oh my god..” Art replied. “In the flesh.” Patrick said in his awfully charming grin

I just stared up at them and observed. How did Art get his nickname? Did his parents have a really big thing for Art? Was it short for Arthur? Artemis? I could practically see Art drooling all over Tashi. He didn’t seem as bad as Patrick. He seemed more kind. But why should I trust him? I don’t know him yet. Which makes me also contradict myself.. Why should I hate Patrick? I don’t know him. I know his parents, and their awful choice of a lifestyle, but what if he’s different. Y’know what? I’ll get to know them (if they talk to me), and I won’t judge them.. Yet.

“Which one’s which?” Tashi inquired, pointing at the two of them.

“What do you think?” 

God.. This is really fucking awkward. It’s just me sitting here waiting for Tashi to finish her conversation while she goes around talking to boys. I really am a loser. But, I’m happy this way. Happy, but lame.

“You were fucking incredible today.” 

“Thank you.” Tashi said, in her preformed voice, she gets that a lot.

“No, really, I mean, it wasn’t even like tennis. It was an entirely different game. I felt bad for Anna.” “Oh, uh, don’t. She’s a sore loser and a racist bitch.”

They started chuckling, I did too. I guess my laugh caught their attention. They looked at me, waiting for me to say something. I’m guessing they felt bad for ignoring me while I was right beside Tashi, and wanted to include me. I wish I was invisible. “Oh, I’m Mae. Nice to meet you.” I said, in a meek tone, giving them a fake-smile. “I’m Art, and he’s Patrick.” “Cool.” Why the fuck would I say that? Cool?! I just want to shrivel up in a hole and bury myself. They chuckled at the weird interaction. Tashi smirked at me, knowing I almost never talk to boys. 

“So, Mae, do you play tennis?” Patrick chimed in. “No, I’m uh.. I’m Tashi’s plus one.” “Huh.. So, what do you do?” Art inquired. What do I do? Nothing really.. I make clothing? But that’s weird. Tashi please save me.

“She’s a big studier. Gonna be a lawyer or doctor, something smart. She’s going to Stanford, with me. Speaking of, you’re going to Stanford right?” Tashi said to Art.

Thank you for saving me Tashi. You’re an angel. I look at Patrick. For once, he looks left out. I don’t think he’s going to Stanford, if so, Tashi wouldn’t mention it to the two of them, but her attention is towards Art right now.

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” 

Tashi looked at Patrick, noticing his left out expression. He must be not used to being the centre of attention. Welcome to my world. “Um.. I just accepted my offer, and they mentioned you.”

“You’re not going pro?” Patrick asked. “No, not yet.”

“Why do you waste your time playing college tennis?” Our attention was drawn towards Gerald (Tashi’s dad) right after Patrick had said that. She didn’t answer his question. Gerald asked Tashi to go take pictures.

“I have to go take pictures, so um.. It was nice meeting you both.”

“Yeah.” They said in unison, nodding and grinning

Should I go with her? No, it’s her moment. God, now I have to talk with them. There was a brief pause, silence filling the air. 

“So, um, Mae. Are you excited about Stanford?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, I guess so..”

I need to think of other things to talk about! Can I for once not be awkward?!

“Uhm, Art, what are you majoring in?” “Political science.” Art said. “Huh, I didn’t take you for that type of guy..” I said. I didn’t mean to say that out loud, I really didn’t. I noticed my rudeness after Patrick started snickering at my rudeness, and Art the same. “I didn’t-” 

“It’s okay. I get what you mean. You probably expected me to do something basic and easy, right?” I did, I just didn’t say it out loud. I mean, stereotypical rich white guy, going to college for tennis, and picking out some easy major is what I thought of him as. “No, No, I didn’t. It’s just, political science might be hard, from what I’ve heard.” I lied. “Well, Art here cares about deep philosophical theories and politics and that shit. W-What was it? Clito ergos sums?” Patrick says, poking at Art. “Cogito ergo sum.. I think therefore I am.” Art corrected him. He reminds me of those highschoolers who reached an age where they think everything is philosophical and deep. He’s not though. I can tell he’s more genuine about it.

“Why didn’t you just take philosophy then? Y’know since you like it.” “I think that philosophy might be too hard for my little tennis brain to understand. Hopefully, political science is easier.” Art said, making fun of himself.

Well, good luck on that one champ. 

“So, what are you majoring in?” Art asked. “Uhm, law, minoring in political science. So I might see you around.”

“Sounds fun.” Patrick says ironically. I chuckled. 

“Y’know what’s even funner, years of debt from college.” I joked.

They looked confused though, not laughing like that joke was supposed to land. Did I mess it up? Make it awkward? No, no. Not by their expression did the joke not land. They just don’t get it. They probably don’t know what college debt is. I mean, being rich and all, I don’t blame them. “College debt, I didn’t have enough money to pay for tuition, so I borrowed from the government.” I explained. “Oh.” They said, giving me a nod, full of understanding and pity. I hate pity, don’t feel bad for me just because I’m not as rich as you. Their eyes turn toward Tashi. Right, they were here for Tashi all along.

“I’m gonna go to Tashi, it was nice meeting you..” I said, bragging in their faces that they couldn’t just go up to Tashi like I could.

8:04 - September 9th, 2006

I walked down the stairs, there sat both of them, still here. They were probably waiting for Tashi. We looked at each other when we saw them, talking in our secret language. We both knew they wanted her, and how complimenting this was for Tashi’s ego. 

“Shouldn’t you two be preparing for the finals or something?” Tashi asked. “Oh, it’s just the juniors.” Art said, brushing it off “We both know how it’s gonna go.” Patrick uttered in unison to Art, making himself look bigger. 

Art looked at Patrick, betrayed. I admit, that was a shitty thing to do.

“Okay, well um, it’s cool that you stayed.”

“I actually wanted to ask you about that point earlier-” Art chimed in, before being cut off.

“Hey, do you smoke? Cigarettes?” 

“No. Do you?” Tashi countered.

“Yeah.” Patrick said, giving a nod, knowing she won’t like his answer.

“You?” Patrick asked me. “Me? Uhm, no.” I shook my head.

“Wanna go down to the beach?”

“Sure.” Tashi said, looking down at the beach. I nodded as well, as if my answer made any difference. I just followed them down there like some puppy. The moonlight shone on Tashi, she looked to the ocean like some sort of siren. In some aspects, she was a siren. She pulled people in with her charm and demolished them if she wanted to. 

“So, Mae, do you do any sports?” Art asked me. “Uhm, no. I mean, Tashi tried to teach me tennis, but I was no good at it. I swam for a brief period of time. Like for 4 years. But compared to your training, it’s nothing.”

“Do you want to be a lawyer?” Patrick asked. Did I want to be a lawyer? To some that question might sound stupid, considering I am going to be majoring in law and all that, but it’s a good question. Do I want to? Honestly, no. My real dream is to become a fashion designer, but I got into Stanford, so might as well be something useful. It’s not like I’m going to be the next Coco Chanel. “Yeah.. Yeah, I want to.” I said, the lie slipping out in parts of my sentence.

The waves crashed on, and the conversation continued. Ones with Tashi, and Stanford, and them both ogling their eyes out at her, and Tennis. Always tennis. There was never a time I couldn’t escape the grasp of Tennis. 

“Wait, are you on Facebook?” 

“What?” I got my shoes and stood beside Tashi. I just wanted to get back to our hotel room.

“He’s asking for your number, and so am I.” Art said, with more confidence in his voice. “You both want my number?”

“Very much so,yeah.”

“Okay, well I’m not a homewrecker.” “We don’t live together.”

“It’s an open relationship.” I chuckled at that one. After that, I sort of zoned out, my eyes glued to the ocean. They were babbling about some girlfriend.

“Hey, come hang out with us later.” Patrick invited.

“We’re in room 206.”

“Want me to come tuck you in?” Tashi jokes.

“No, we just keep talking about Tennis.”

“Good night.” Tashi said, dismissing them.

“We have beer.”

8:54 - September 9th, 2006

“I can’t believe we got a suite. This is crazy.” I said, flopping onto the bed, still in my dress and heels. Tashi sat next to me, playing with my hair lullingly. She took off my heels, then hers, and got closer. “Wanna go to their hotel?” Tashi asked “Who? Art and Patrick?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna go if you don’t.” “I thought they only invited you though. They don’t want me there.” 

“Yes they do! Did you see how Art was eyeing you?” Tashi said

“He was not.” 

“He was! Patrick too!”

“You’re just trying to convince me to go, and they were drooling over you, not me.” “Just come, please? It’s gonna be fun, we’re gonna drink, and all that stuff! Please, I’ll buy you more fabric?” That caught my attention. “All I want?” “All you want.” Tashi reassured me. “Fine..” “Yay!” She pulled me into a hug before finding some clothes. I got changed into something more comfortable, sweatpants and Tashi’s baby tee.

8:45 - September 9th, 2006

“It’s gonna be fun, I promise. And, you’ll get to talk to two really cute boys.”

I sighed and Tashi knocked on the door.

END OF CHAPTER 2

[starshippingweek]

On the eleventh day of Starshipping,

Mod B gives to you a very short version of my fic rec list - because we all know the best way to spend the holidays is to curl up in a cozy blanket with a mug of hot chocolate and binge on tales of our OTP until dawn ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა. Stories are listed in order of whenever I manage to find them (should've utilised the bookmarks more :c) and mostly feature non-English languages and older publications.

风与旅行者 by 薛量子 (QuantumSchro) (translation: The Wind and the Traveler).

Summary (translation): Judai has a story about dreams, adventure, and saving the world. And in their journey with the years, he also created another story: a story about love, life and vows. He saw fine lines forming at the corners of Yusei's eyes, and his skin was gradually becoming rougher. They grew up together, laughed together, grew old together, and watched each other grow gray.

Why I recommend this fic:

The premise of this story is that Judai is immortal, and after years and years of travel post-Duel Academia, he runs into Yusei in Neo Domino (in this timeline, Zero Reverse didn't happen). They fall in love and build a life together. But Judai keeps his secret hidden - until he no longer can.

This is, without exaggeration, one of the best executions I have ever seen of the "immortal Judai" idea, and the author also ties this storyline into canon very nicely. I had to use Google Translate to read this but I'm sure it's even more beautiful in the original language - as even with the choppy translation, my heart was sobbing with the vivid description of the scenes, the joys and sorrows of their journey, and especially Judai's character growth thanks to Yusei. I couldn't stop thinking about it for DAYS afterwards. Highly recommend if you want a big ol' hit of angst with a happy ending that'll leave you gushing.

2. The Constellation of Our Hearts by EntameWitchLulu

Summary: "We've drawn this constellation between us, hoping that one day, it will let us remember all the times we've been together." - a collection of oneshots for Starshipping Week

Why I recommend this fic:

The outro of one of the chapters best describes the premise of this body of work:

They say when a dragon falls in love, its soul becomes mortal, and it joins the cycle of rebirth. We were both dragons, and we both fell in love. Over and over we find ourselves spinning like this. But a dragon's soul can never rest once it's fallen in love—not until both souls learn to remember. Not until both souls meet, and resonate, with the memory of their times together.

Even though it's a Fantasy AU at first glance, this collection has everything - adventure, action, suspense, angst, fluff, PIRATE YUSEI, and of course sweet, sweet romance. Judai and Yusei met as dragons and the stories document their meetings across reincarnations. Sometimes they meet only briefly, sometimes they form long-lasting relationships, sometimes neither remembers and sometimes one remembers while the other does not - until too late. A deeply bittersweet but gorgeous tale of longing and hope and wonder and honestly if I keep thinking about it any more, I'm gonna start crying, so. *puts this collection on a marble plinth for permanent display in the Museum of Starshipping*

3. 周末小事 by FinnaC (translation: Things to do at weekends)

Summary: Yuki Judai caught a cold. *Journal of daily life of cohabitation.

Why I recommend this fic:

It makes my heart go like √v^√v^√♥💥 with cuteness! A cozy, fluffy fic featuring Judai, who cannot stand being stuck inside all day because he's sick. Thankfully he's got a wonderful boyfriend to take care of him! So sweet it makes me melt~

4. good earth & good bones by en passant (corinthian)

Summary: The world ended, the ocean swallowed many of the coastal cities and left behind a changed landscape. Judai's coming home, Yuusei's finding his way. Along the way, they discover a little more than just their destination. -- Starshipping, post-apocalypstic au.

Why I recommend this fic:

Delightfully inventive. This story paints a vivid picture of a world that's very different from the ones in GX and 5Ds, and you can see how its brutal circumstances have shaped the characters, but deep down they still have the traits we know (and love) from canon. Judai and Yusei have got chemistry like crazy from the moment they first meet, and I also love the idea of them going on an adventure together! It was also really cool to see how other characters from both series found their places in this world - definitely a very unique reading experience.

5. Starships Were Meant to Fly by iatethecookie

Summary Random Starshipping oneshots.

Why I recommend this fic:

As of today, there are two one-shots at this link, and both are utterly charming, especially the first one. I am smitten with this depiction of Yusei - confident, kind, caring, and with a sense of humor that can best Jaden at times. I'd just like to present my favorite excerpt:

"Didwehankypankylastnight?" he suddenly blurted out, pink dusting his cheeks. Waaaaay to go Jade. Smooth. Hanky panky, really? He probably thinks you're a total idiot. At least he no longer felt the compelling need to stare into the other boy's eyes anymore. Oh God. To Jaden's surpise, the guy gave out a short laugh. He had a nice laugh, it was smooth and made his eyes light up. Drunk Jaden seemed to have really good taste.

Also, get-together fics are my weakness. Aren't we glad that they didn't get together in canon so that us fans get to imagine that part however we want?

I'll wrap it up here even though there are more and moreeeee awesome fics I wish I could shove into everybody's face. If you have a lesser-known fic that you think should be required reading for all Starshippers, please let us know down below!

[reliablejoukido]

zuzsenpai (reliablejoukido)'s fanfiction masterpost

Since I have written quite a few Digimon fanfics now, I thought I would document them all in one place, largely so I can keep track. If anyone ever has any questions about my stories, please send an ask!

Multi-ship:

"Somewhere Only We Know" - Jyoumi, Daiken, Takari - multi chap 10/16; rated T; ongoing; currently 88,295 words - Joe Kido starts a medical clinic in the Digital World. As the other Chosen Children help him get situated, they slowly begin to learn what the Digital World means to them as adults. Meanwhile, Ken evaluates his feelings, friendship, and future with Daisuke.

Daisuke/Ken:

"Friday I'm in Love" - multi chap 8/8; rated T; completed; 7,789 words - A few glimpses into what it’s like to fall in love over the course of many Fridays.

"Daisuke's Love Mix-Up! - oneshot; rated T; 11,400 words - During a midterm exam, Daisuke borrows Hikari’s eraser. Disaster strikes in the weirdest way possible, and it’s an uphill battle just to keep his first love from vanishing into thin air. Or perhaps it’s a winding road that leads to feelings he didn’t know he had.

"20 Questions" - oneshot; rated T; ???? words - Ken and Daisuke are out here playing 4D chess... but perhaps not on the same board.

"(Don't) stop flirting" - oneshot; rated M; 4,288 words - Ken couldn’t get those words out of his head. He didn’t want to do anything about it… but Daisuke had other plans. - "The Beginning" spoilers

Daisuke/Takeru:

"Watch Me Now" - oneshot; rated E; 7,129 words - “Just one look you're gonna be obsessed, I give it all I got never any less.” Or: Daisuke watches Takeru watch Daisuke. It gets them both a little thirsty.

"It’s getting late and I cannot seem to find my way home tonight" - multi chap 4/4; rated T; completed; 17,400 words - Takeru is only 20 years old and his love life is already tiresome. That is, until he lets something slip to Daisuke that changes everything. Takeru suddenly finds himself inexplicably drawn to endless possibilities.

"Flying Hope" - multi chap 1/2; rated T; ongoing; currently 9,845 words - Takeru Takaishi did NOT start out the day expecting to develop a crush on his old friend Daisuke. Completely out of the blue, at age 32 and some change. He supposed it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen in his life right now.

"The Captive Monsters of Yamatora Seaside Elementary School" - oneshot; rated T; 9,054 words - In a world where digital monsters are scarcely-documented cryptids, two men— Daisuke the believer and Takeru the skeptic— seek to answer the burning question in everyone’s minds: “are Digimon real?”

Daisuke/Michael:

"So Come and Dance with Me" - multi chap 7/9; rated T; ongoing; currently 49,206 words - Daisuke Motomiya is 27 years old and finally achieving his dream of opening a ramen truck in New York City. The city assigns him a spot near the theater district, where he runs across a flyer for an off-Broadway production starring an old, extremely attractive acquaintance.

Daisuke/Miyako:

"Vibes" - oneshot; rated M; 1,507 words - He thinks about her. She touches him.

"Bar-Crossed Lovers" - multi chap; rated M; completed; 11,733 words - Miyako laughed out loud when she saw him on the other side of the bar. Out of everyone who could’ve bought her a drink tonight, it had to be the one person in the world who wouldn’t mean anything romantic by it.

Daisuke/Lui:

"The Universal Language of Friendship" - muti chap 2/?; rated T; ongoing; currently 4,196 words - Lui visits Daisuke at Yamatoya Ramen. With the help of Daisuke’s friends, Lui observes, and tries to learn about building relationships. - "The Beginning" spoilers

Jou/Taichi:

"Escape With Me" - oneshot; rated T; 2,800 words - “I've never been here before, I don't know the score. But I never wanted you more than I do tonight. Will you escape with me? And we'll start brand new.”

"Spontaneous Like Clockwork - oneshot; rated T; 2,305 words - At first, Jou hadn’t been sure what to make of Taichi just inviting himself over whenever he felt like it. But it soon became apparent that his old friend gained enjoyment out of spending time with Jou— not because he liked bothering the doctor and using him for his food and couch— but because he genuinely loved the company. Or, Taichi discovers Costco.

"The Secret of Us" - multi chap 5/5; rated E; completed; 21,048 words - Yamato and Sora think Taichi has a girlfriend. Truthfully Taichi is single, but there is someone in his life.

Jou/Mimi:

"Kiss from a Rose" - oneshot; rated E; 5,860 words - When his dark eyes met hers, they seemed impossibly darker, with a glint of something interesting forming in his expression. Oh, Mimi thought, am I in for something special tonight?

Gen fics:

"All Roads Lead Me Back to You" - multi chap 4/4; rated G; completed; 10,346 words - There are no official roads in the Digital World. When Jou Kido drives his makeshift ambulance, he has to forge his own path.

"return of the king (feat. 02 hair)" - oneshot; rated T; 466 words - Jou Kido's hair is serious business.

"Two Sides" - oneshot; rated G; 658 words - Even if Ken never sees Iori outside of work, they'll always be two sides of the same coin.

"The Badge" - oneshot; rated G; 1,476 words - Iori technically already knew he passed the bar– the results had been posted online since Monday. But what Iori was waiting not-so-patiently for was the shining symbol that represented passing the bar. The golden emblem that symbolically gave him the liberty to defend someone in court, instead of just helping out as an apprentice. The glistening stamp of approval that meant a client would take him seriously as a lawyer.

[the-tzarina-alexandra-paracosm]

Some of my favourite art - a timeline

Part 2: 2010-2012

Cca. 2011 (aged 10). Mario fanart. This was my main fandom at that age. We can see the very first iteration of my signature (Alexandra D.* except with a drawn 5-point-star. I later simplified the design but otherwise kept the signature ever since).

2011 ish. Adventure Time fanart.

Mia and me fanart (does anybody else remember that show haha?). Cca. 2012

Mid-late 2012. Mario and Final Fantasy fanart. I was introduced to FF via the Mario Hoops game illustrated in the very first pic.

Late 2012. Final Fantasy I fanart.

Late 2012 or very early 2013. Final Fantasy XI fanart. One of the first documented attempts at drawing in an anime style, which will henceforth be the main influence of my artstyle for the next few years.

------

The main characteristics of this era are big heads contrasted with thin bodies and limbs. The eyes are at first simple ovals but eventually transition to an anime style. Bright colours but mostly in pencil this time; much smoother and intentional colouring than the previous years. More diverse facial expressions and poses than before, but still with significant anatomy mistakes.

From a more meta point of view, the most significant aspects of this era are 1. The development of my personal signature and 2. The intentional archiving of my art, as can be seen by the numbering system. Whereas around my tween years I had started to get extremely self-conscious about my art and threw a good chunk of it away on a whim because I didn't like it anymore, by the time I was about 11 ½ ish I developed a sense for the necessity of art preservation. Thus I stopped throwing old art away (and if I really hated half a drawing but loved another part I cropped it, hence why so many pieces of paper are visibly cut up). I was eventually very sorry that I had ever thrown out any art. While these are some well-preserved pieces, this timeframe is actually a lost media era of my art because of the sheer amount I disposed of, have away, or didn't put effort into keeping in a safe place. The first lost media era being ofc my earliest childhood drawings, which, ironically, were much more well preserved than my tween era drawings, but at some point we were no longer able to locate the box with my oldest stuff. One day I hope to find it again. I cannot say the same about my tween art, most of which I actively destroyed. This has been a harsh lesson I had to learn, and I urge any young artist to not fall into this trap, no matter how "cringe" you may think your art is. Having learned this lesson, starting around early 2013, I started keeping my drawings in a box and indexing them (hence the numbers. #4 means it was one of the very first drawings I preserved and a very recent one at the time of establishing my personal drawing box). I'm currently almost at 3000 if not already having passed that threshold. That's 3k pictures in a 12 year timeframe. And I'm sure that if I had never lost any piece of my art ever, the lifetime number of drawings would be double that.

So if you, especially if you're a young artist, ever feel insecure, please don't throw away or destroy your art! And remember that progress takes time. I'm showing my favourite drawings across the years but please remember that it took my entire life + thousands of drawings worth of practice to reach my current level. Don't compare yourself to other artists, your art is worth keeping around even if not yet to the level you expect.

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 17: Beginning of the End

There's a fork in the road that everyone reaches before they die. A right path that offers you everything you've ever wanted, luring you in with sweet scents and the voices of everyone you've ever loved. This road is said to guarantee happiness and peace.

Three types of people approach these paths: the majority, who don't bother looking at the left path, those who see the left path, consider it, but ultimately choose the rightward, happier, easier, way, then those who see both paths, and, for some reason go left.

March 2006 Two hours later.

A knife could cut through the tension in this classroom right now.

Mariko and I sat at the furthest opposite desks, letting the boys fill the space as they pleased. The only one who dared to make a noise was Haibara when he awkwardly cleared his throat, gaining the courage to ask "Did something happy while we were gone?"

I sink further into my seat, arms folded in protest.

"You don't understand being the strongest—having your life sold to Jujutsu. You could leave it all behind and no one would even care!"

Mariko doesn't move, only scoffs largely.

"You know, you and Gojo-san really are perfect for each other. You're both full of shit."

Neither of us bother to answer, though. To admit our faults.

"Okay..."

"Let them be," Nanami says. "They can figure out their petty feuds by themselves—"

"It's not petty!" Mariko and I exclaim at the same time. Our eyes lock momentarily, only for us to force our gazes back towards the front of the room. Then we fall into silence again.

Another five, maybe ten, minutes of this passes, until an assistant supervisor rips the door open, "Uematsu-san, Yaga Sensei is requesting you in room 6."

"What for?"

"Tengen-sama has specially requested you for a mission," she says. "As well as Gojo and Geto-san."

"Of course," Mariko scoffs once more. "Leave all of us weak people behi—"

There's a teacher's desk at the front of the room. One that breaks in half against my fist as I pass by. Mariko—all of them—cannot help but stare in shock at my dramatic gesture. Their expressions are similar to Nanami's from the night of our mission together. I ask myself, "Why have I become so hostile?"

Even the assistant supervisor's hand trembles slightly as she passes the cream folder. "You will be escorting Amanai Riko for her assimilation with Tengen-sama in two days."

"Assimilation?"

"Yaga Sensei called it an," she hesitates, "Erasure."

The folder is filled with an endless amount of documents regarding Amanai Riko. Everything from her upbringing—dead parents and no family left to claim her, her role as the "Star Plasma Vessel" being the only thing keeping her out of an orphanage—to invasive details about her daily routine, along with a long list of organizations that will be interested in her bounty.

There's a picture of her clipped to the top of the stack. Mussy black hair and wide eyes. I frown. "She's only 14."

"Tengen-sama has personally chosen her—"

"A child."

"She is most compatible—"

"She's a child."

The assistant supervisor stutters helplessly. "Sh-she's only a couple years younger than yourself, Uematsu-san."

"And I'm not a child?" I think. "Isn't that why I'm still in school?"

To this, she cannot answer at all.

I shut the folder and put it back in her arms, letting my misplaced anger subside. "Room 6, you said?"

Turning to head down the hallway, the supervisor finds her voice again, "I'm just doing my job."

I look back, noticing her gaze is drawn to the floor. "I know."

"I don't want a child to be sacrificed, even if it is for Tengen-sama."

Stepping closer, I see how small and young she actually is. She couldn't be more than twenty, neat brown hair cleanly tied back into a plait, barely tall enough to reach my shoulders, sharp and beautiful hazel eyes. Imprisoned by this world as much as I am—as we all are. "I know that too."

"We don't have a choice, though. Do we?"

"No, we don't." It nearly makes me laugh. To think the strongest, shackled in chains such as these.

"If you were me," I suggest, "Would you do the same?"

She thinks for a moment. "I suppose I would do whatever I was told. Then again, I've never been the strongest before. Maybe I would do whatever I want."

The sentiment is wild, irrational, going against everything I've ever worked and dedicated my life to, but not impossible.

"What's your name?"

She seems taken aback. "Chihiro. Tanabe Chihiro."

"I like the way you think, Chihiro," I say, half in jest. "If I don't decide to do whatever I want, I might start requesting for you to escort me on missions."

"If?" Her face reddens with a blush. "I don't want to be credited if you go berserk, Uematsu-san."

"Relax," I nudge her arm a little too forcefully. "I don't plan on going berserk yet."

From within classroom 6, I can already hear them discussing. Suguru's gentle voice is explaining a large amount of what Chihiro had shown me in the file. "...All the Jujutsu schools, the barriers that form the foundation of Jujutsu society, the many barrier techniques of the assistant supervisors. They're all being strengthened by Tengen-sama. Without the aid of his power, we could hardly maintain security or clean up after missions. In the worst-case scenario, Tengen-sama could even become a threat to mankind...."

I wait behind the screen door, and listen closely. Everything Suguru says is true; these are worst case scenarios that could occur if we do not carry out this mission. Sacrificing Amanai is a necessary evil.

"That's why, every 500 years, he finds the Star Plasma Vessel—someone who is compatible with him—and assimilates them, overwriting the information of their body. By renewing his body, he resets his cursed technique back to the start and avoids Evolution."

Yes, a necessary evil. One that, in effect, could save so many others. But she's just a kid. Kids dying, is that ever truly necessary?

A second voice silences all these swarming thoughts in my mind. It's gruff, but comforting, warm. Possibly my newfound favorite voice in the world. "I get it. It would be fine if he turned into MetalGreymon, but we can't have him becoming SkullGreyman. So we have him start over from Koromon."

I find myself smiling at the frame of the door.

"What? Yeah, sure, that works."

Finally, I slide the door open and the wood shifts with a loud snap. "Sending in all three of us is a bit much," I say. "All to transport one kid."

"This mission is of the utmost importance," Yaga Sensei grumbles, arms folded tightly above his chest. The vein in his forehead seems to be bulging a little larger this afternoon. "I have doubts that even the three of you combined are up for it."

Satoru pulls a stool from the desktop, and sets it on the ground for me. Another small gesture that resonates with far more meaning than intended.

"The Star Plasma Vessel's location has already been leaked. Right now, there are two major groups after the young girl's life." He spins his laptop around for us. "One is the Curse User Group Q, which seeks to upend jujutsu society with Tengen-sama's rampage. The other is the Star Religious Group, also known as the 'Time Vessel Association,' which worships Tengen-sama as a god." The dire look on Yaga's face truly sets in now. "Tengen-sama will assimilate the Star Plasma Vessel two days from now. You are to protect the girl until then and ensure that she reaches Tengen-Sama. If you fail, the effects will ripple throughout even normal society. Don't forget that."

∞

"Buy me a soda."

Satoru's finger prods into the flesh of my cheek. I slap it away, pulling the coins out for him regardless.

"What happened with Mei-san?" I try to ask casually, digging my hands so deep into my pockets that I fear they might burst through the fabric.

"Nothing." He tosses the coins repeatedly, letting them fall back into his palm. "They were trapped in one of those barriers that alter time—didn't even know they'd been gone for two days."

"It would have been pretty efficient if they sent you in," Suguru adds. "You would have sniffed the barrier out in a few seconds."

"She doesn't care about that part," Satoru laughs, "She's all sour over Mei-san."

"I am not!"

From the look on his face, Suguru knows exactly what kind of answer to expect, but enjoys fanning the flames, "What's wrong with Mei-san?"

"Nothing! Give me my coins back!"

Satoru refuses happily, pushing me away with a single arm.

"You do seem tense, Kaede-chan?" Suguru takes a concerned tone. "Did something happen while we were gone?"

He seems to catch on to a stiffness that I myself had yet to notice. My shoulders finally lower, and I let out an overdue breath. I wonder if it might be good for my peace of mind to talk about my argument with Mariko, the hateful words we exchanged. But I know Satoru won't take well to being called "full of shit." Besides, the context of the conversation is far more alarming, the crude things I wondered about the boy standing just to my left, still playing with the coins I'd given him. "No."

"She said she doesn't like Mei-san because she flirts with me."

I grit my teeth, "I did not say that."

"Really?" Suguru hums. "Well, she did ask you if you would comfort her if she cried."

I do my best to keep my expression neutral, to not frown or accusingly look up at Satoru, who, in reality, owes me nothing.

His smirk is more prominent than ever, though. "Your face is starting to match your hair, Kaede-chan."

"I don't care about Mei-san or whether she flirts with you or not," I defend. "We have bigger things to think about."

"The mission?" Satoru asks. "You said it yourself, the three of us are more than enough."

"And if I don't want to succeed?"

Each of us pause beneath the shade of a tree, staring at one another quietly.

Suguru frowns, "What do you mean?"

"Transport and erase some kid we don't even know," I sigh. "I have my reservations."

"What if the Star Plasma Vessel wants to be assimilated?" Suguru suggests.

"And if she refuses?" I counter.

"Then... the assimilation's off!" Satoru declares suddenly.

Suguru laughs before I can think to respond, "Are you sure about that?"

He's almost offended by our hesitance. "Huh?"

"It might mean fighting Tengen-sama, you know."

"You scared?" Satoru merely scoffs. "It's fine. It'll all work out somehow."

"Fighting off Tengen-sama and anyone else who stands in our way will most likely result in us being kicked out of the school, and shunned away from Jujutsu society," I continue, eyes narrowing at Satoru who I'm not sure has thought through all of the consequences, "Even set for execution if it comes to that."

He shrugs. "Fine with me. You two are all that I need."

My mouth parts in disbelief. I turn to Suguru, expecting to find our voice of reason, some sensible hesitance, but even he smiles, "We give our all, and at the end of it, we follow through with whatever the Star Plasma Vessel decides, agreed?"

To give up the only world I've known on a whim, for the sake of following these two into the utter dark. "Agreed," Satoru and I answer at once. Because a life like that sounded okay to me.

[rarepairnation]

For the wip ask game, I kinda have a feeling this is abt faramir, so middle-earth history exam and may i learn more about [indistant screaming noises] elrond and elros and earendil and faramir, pretty please?

HAHA YOU KNOW IT!! yeah i literally just listed all the silly names that i gave each of the major scenes in the faramir goes to rivendell au in the outline document. elrond elros earendil and faramir is here but ok YES so the middle-earth history exam that i assigned myself and promptly proceeded to fail. (@bossuets also asked about this one!!)

this name really doesn't apply anymore because ive figured it all out but its a relic from when i felt so so so evil about the part where faramir arrives in rivendell. because i think a lot about how faramir like has this reverence towards elves and yet kind of doesn't know that much about them - except presumably he's begged stories off of gandalf before so hes got to know Something right? just like...[historian going anywhere] "blorbo from my career was here" is the emotion that i feel like im trying to capture in his head. and while i was working on the scene i got way too in my head and got stressed out about Not Knowing Things. rereading it now to pick a paragraph though i must say its pretty good :3

it seems as he stands there, transfixed, that the valley calls to him. sings in strange, musical voices in languages so old he has only ever seen them written - and after a time he realizes that it is no seeming. he cannot yet see them, but elven voices rise in heralds’ cries, and in turn he lets himself be drawn to heed them. he finds then that his weariness has left him, and sure-footed he goes forth, descending the steep path. he knows it cannot be true, but it feels as if within these sheer cliffs lies a land which the shadow shall never touch. it is a place weighted by thousands more years of history than gondor has ever dreamt of, yet it carries it all so lightly, this bright valley where it is every season of the world at once yet at its heart is always spring, the bloom of new bud and new life. it is no natural thing to behold, and he should quail from it. it should be something too strange and great for his mind to comprehend. yet great strength he knows well; the deep limpid pool of it in mithrandir, the one time the wizard had let him see it, and in his father very much the same. more so, indeed, than either of them would like. and as for strangeness - he has known strangeness in himself all his life. if not for his father he would be the only one quite like him in all gondor, and some days he still feels like it. whatever lies at the heart of imladris is strange indeed, yet he feels as if he knows it already, as close and familiar as any brother. it shall not bring him to harm.

i just. rivendell as a place that feels like a hug is so precious 2 me. and we're coming directly off faramir having The Worst Journey Of All Time so he is just sinking into it all like its a feather mattress. and he deserves it!!!

there's also a part in there a couple scenes down where he sees the feanorian star in the iconography and is like. HEY. ?????. its so self indulgent but there was a fun numenor parallel in there that im proud of. heres two sentences for your enjoyment.

an age ago the banner of the high king and the star of the noldor marched to war together, and fell together too. perhaps the seven stars upon his breast and the eight-pointed one before him are of the same make. a memory of a legend long past, too dearly held to discard.

ALSO I KNOW u got a repeat so if u feel like sending another u know im always down to talk about the au lol

[corndoggod]

Anatomy of Failure

I felt like I was on trial watching Anatomy of a Fall -- for my failures as a writer and the ensuing resentments misdirected at my partner. Seeing my private torments litigated in a riveting courtroom drama, spoken in clinical French, was titillating. The writing was so sharp I could’ve just listened like the blind son Daniel and been engaged. But I loved watching Daniel practice piano, the baby blue glaze over his eyes and his surprise testimony in a redrum turtleneck. 

The story wastes no time. Within five minutes, the husband is found dead, bleeding out in the snow. An autopsy cannot rule out foul play and his wife, a writer, becomes the sole suspect. What unravels in court is not only the events that precipitated the death of her husband, but an ultimate tea concoction of their strained relationship, competing literary ambitions and the blame and guilt surrounding the accident that blinded their son.

Entering a foreign court is a bit jarring. The rules, procedures and dress are notably different from America and seem silly when defamiliarized. The prosecutor, a bald little gremlin robed in red, was probably my favorite character. Arched, dry and eloquent, he bludgeoned the accused writer with an avalanche of incriminating evidence and was quick to undercut any counter/argument from the defense. Court rules in France appear to allow more cross-talk, making the arguments more conversational than U.S. court dramas, which glorify long-winded monologues. 

Impressively, the writer/director thread the needle so well that one is never quite convinced one way or the other. I am easily persuaded and in this lawyerly tug of war, I felt myself suspended over a chasm with demons of jealousy, envy and pride snapping at my feet. 

For all the talk of literary failure, this was a written masterpiece. I am drawn to such stories, like a moth to flame, for so many deep and cutting reasons. Like the husband, I deflect and blame others for my shortcomings: If only X, Y and Z were different, then I could write! The wife’s gaslighting voice lives within me too: Make the time and do it, coward! And I disdain my father for giving up sports journalism, and for withholding those ambitions from me (Had I known earlier, maybe then I’d be a staff writer!) and on himself in general. 

Funny enough, when I was biking home after seeing Fallen Leaves last week, I had the high thought that my senior thesis anticipated my current condition with regards to writing. My argument was garbled -- something about the author subverting masculine forms/expectations of writing (adventure, heroism) using feminine forms (diary, domesticity) through an act of ventriloquy -- but the book I chose to write about was a book about a wannabe writer’s failure. 

Called El Libro Vacio and written by Josefina Vicens, it was a novel about the shortcomings of a middle class man working in middle management and his literary shortcomings. He wanted to be a great writer, but he was tormented and uninspired by the banality of his day-to-day life as a family man. If only he didn’t have a kid and wife, he could hit the road and sail the high seas and finally have something to say! He studiously documents his failures and torments in a diary that amounts to the novel by Vicens. 

In my early 20s, I was interested in what makes a good leader. I studied the polar explorer Ernest Shackleton, the most winningest basketball coach Gregg Popovich and read more than a dozen presidential biographies. But now I find myself fixated on failure, my own and my fathers, and I want to learn the art of letting go. 

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Fifty

My love, 

It is getting near, I believe.  My death.  

I still do not know where you are, or how to find you.  Your fellow monarchs would have me believe you are dead, but I know better.  The purifying crystal returned me to the closest thing to my previous state that exists, but I can still sense you in every tree, every ray of sun.  

I have been here now twelve years.  The people still call for you.  They leave flowers at your family crest at the sacred site.  Your sister has grown into quite the Queen.  She now has a son, I wish you could meet him.  She is still not you, however, and many knights have left their posts in your absence.  Your likeness still hangs in many homes, or so these kind servants report.  

I have been in the castle as a captive for my tenure here, but my stewards tell me that those commonfolk approve of us, that they bring me flowers I cannot see, gifts I cannot have.  They wish to speak of me, about you, as if I am a thread that flows to you.  How I wish that were true.  

I have been allowed to teach the village youth sometimes, simple lessons, letters, music…always watched, again, a prisoner.  But I have not made lessons in over a year.  My eyes are worsening, and my hands hurt so badly that I cannot play.  Just more reasons why it seems I am close to the end. 

These fools have one final insult to give us.  I learned this week that I will be buried in stone deep within the castle recesses, so that I might never become a part of your world.  I fear I might never see you again.  I write this in the hopes it finds you, and you seek out what corner that might preserve me, to return me to the earth. 

 The others were so angered by your stealing the crystal that they decreed it will be buried with me, never to be used again.  Many rituals and beliefs are changing; children are no longer brought to be with their families, and the poorer are not allowed to be buried within reach of resurrection.  It is a travesty that such a miracle of life has fallen into such evil-minded hands.  I still hope to find you one day.  I will never regret returning to look for you, even if it is not to be in this life.  

—---

Ethan chewed through the breakfast sausage as he read the letter.  He could now understand the language that Godric’s lover wrote in, and he had been combing through the years of documentation since waking.  This letter had been sealed; it was special, covered in artwork and old ribbons. He paused to bite into an apple.  He’d slept better last night than he had in years, certainly since Dulvey.  And he was up before anyone, even Karl.  He’d made breakfast and now sat at the kitchen counter alone.  

The morning sun streamed in, and it hurt his eyes greatly.  Ethan had drawn the curtains for the first time since moving in.  

Someone was coming down the hall.  Gentle footsteps sounded on the hardwood, and Eva poked her light blond head into the room, staring in confusion at the drapery.  

“Ethan?”

“Morning.”  

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he gestured toward the food.  “Feel free.” 

She moved for her favorite kettle, and stared at him with a strange look.  “Are you sure you feel fine?”

“Better than I have in awhile,” he admitted.  “Eva.  How do you feel about becoming the Queen?  The Megamycete still needs one.” 

She stared, a bit perturbed at his bluntness.  “I….I have been considering it.  The time might come to say my goodbyes soon.  I try not to think about it.” 

He met her eyes.  “I’ll keep reading.  I’ve got help now.  Maybe there’s something.  Someone I can reach out to.”  He thought of the fragment of Miranda.  

Ethan felt bad for bringing up what clearly pained Eva greatly.  He wanted a solution.  He would find one, he decided, as she turned away from him, back toward the kettle.  He tried to fix things with another entirely blunt and out-of-character statement.  

“Donna could become the Queen if things don't work out...if I mean...Hey, you know, Karl and Sal don’t have to do the surgery on Donna the barbaric way.  I can do it.” 

“You…?”

“Miranda can do it.  She’s been infected with the Black God.  Well, now, so have I.  I can do it.”  

“Has it…does it….communicate with you?”

He shrugged.  “Sometimes.  It’s like a voice in the back of my mind, dormant, like the others.” 

She looked worried.  In a firmer tone he said, “I’m in control, Eva.” 

“I believe you.  I just…I think they would rather…they have a plan….it could be serious….”

“Fine,” he scoffed, “I’m taking Alcina to see Godric today anyway.” His pride a bit stung, he returned to the stack of journal entries and love letters.  “Do you know why she’s so curious to meet him?”

“Beyond the obvious?”  Eva giggled.  “Doesn’t everyone want to meet him?” 

He scoffed, and returned to the notes.  The researcher had been a true learner, right to his end.  Over time his observations and ponderings lost focus, his sketch lines became shaky, his handwriting worsened in legibility.  But he’d worked to at least pen down the information.  

“When are we burying Godric’s….boyfriend?  Is there a medieval word for boyfriend?”

Her smile was soft.  “Boyfriend is probably suitable.  Perhaps we could do that tomorrow tonight.  It will be a full moon.” 

“Did you know he was buried with the Purifying Crystal?”

Eva looked shocked, nearly dropping her tea strainer.  “Are you certain?”

“That’s what his letter said, actually, a few of them say that.”  

“This is incredible news, if true, Ethan.  That crystal has almost legendary power.”

“Power to not have you go back into the Megamycete?”

“I’m not sure.”  

“I wonder who told me to go to his tomb?  There had to be a reason.”

“Was it not the voices, or the Black God?”

“Yeah, but who told THEM? Did they just decide?” 

Her expression was just as curious as his.  She was combing through the papers.  Eva’s hand paused and hovered over a beautiful lineart of Godric’s face, and his lover’s next to it.  They were a handsome pair, but the artwork still did them no justice.  She made a soft noise, stroking the paper with her fingertips.  “I hope we can help them.” 

Ethan still had half a roll in his mouth when the loud thuds of Karl’s boots announced the engineer’s arrival before he entered the room.  The roll was hastily eaten, and the blond flew out of his seat.  Karl had barely entered the archway into the kitchen before Ethan put his hands on the other man’s shoulders, pushing him against the wall with a deep kiss.  Eva rolled her eyes, but was smiling, as the sounds of a very ravenous, teenager-hormone-level, good morning makeout session filtered into the room.  

Heisenberg’s boyish giggle followed them to the counter, where Ethan returned to his coffee.  Heisenberg sat beside him, a completely wolfish grin on the scarred face.  Eva smirked at both of them.  Ethan ruined the spirited mood entirely with his next question.  

“Does Miranda have your crystal fragment?”

The pause in the air was pregnant; Karl’s face fell.  “Ethan, I told you not to talk about-”

“It’s a yes or no.” 

Eva’s face of doubt showed that she wanted to tell Ethan what happened.  The blond turned his gaze to her instead, then.  Karl shook his head angrily as Eva admitted, “It was stolen, from where I placed it years ago.” 

“Who stole it…wait, it was your brother, wasn’t it?  Miranda said he-”

“Ethan, I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“If he did that, can we trust him?” 

Karl slammed his palms onto the countertop and stood, storming out of the room and heading toward the basement.  Ethan followed him with his gaze, and then frowned.  He turned back to Eva, speaking through the voice in his mind. 

Do you trust Karl’s brother?

She looked as though she wanted to disappear.  The blond woman shrugged her petite shoulders, and bit her lip.  I am not sure.  

—------------

There was one ill side effect of his symbiosis to the Black God, he realized after breakfast.  Sunlight was now excruciating.  Ethan pouted over this for another hour as he helped the girls prepare for the day, fishing through bags of new outfits for the perfect dresses-choosing what to wear for the visit with Godric.  What a strange life, he mused as he helped both brush their teeth, supervising and juggling his own toothbrush at the same time.  

When a knock sounded at the bathroom door, Ethan figured it was Alcina, but was surprised to see Donna.  She was wrapped in a shawl and still had her night dress on.  “Could I…” she blushed preemptively, and Ethan paused, realizing he was shirtless, with toothpaste smeared across his lips.  He turned to the sink, rinsed off and turned back to her, at the very least toothpasteless.  “What’s up?”

“I was going to wear these confounded…pants, but I…it took so much talking me into it, to buy them, I thought I’d make shirts to match, but now I realize I don’t have time and wanted to try…this might be the only day I….”

She spoke low, seeming frightened and embarrassed, and Ethan caught on quickly.  That was not typical of him, and he mused that it must be some learned inference from the entity that resided, nestled inside his chest like a weight.  Had he always been a dumb blond before now? 

“Sure,” he answered, and called over his shoulder to the girls.  “After you brush your teeth, wash your faces, Evie, help Rose, and then brush your hair!”

Two gargled ‘okay’s answered him (Rose’s was more of an ‘otay’) and he left the room to go to his bedroom.  Ethan opened a drawer and held out two sweaters-one was grey, the other a deep jewel toned blue.  The blue was a knit turtleneck, the grey a soft cashmere.  Her eyes lit up, and Donna stroked both fabrics.  

“They’re..so lovely,” she said hesitantly.  “Do you have….”

“Anything in black?” He laughed.  “I actually don’t.  I’d say to ask Karl, but my hunch is that if it didn’t come out of a bunker from 1944 he doesn’t have it in stock.  Don’t worry, you’ll look great in these,” he thrust both into her hands.  

When Donna looked at the sweaters, and then him, rather thoughtfully, he raised his eyebrows.  “What?”

“You’re different, Ethan.”

“Am I?”

“You seem…assured, somehow.”  

He crossed his arms, willing to argue, but then realized he probably would have felt strange about being in front of her shirtless before today.  Why was that?  Ethan didn’t know why he was shy.  In fact, he hadn’t even acknowledged that he was shy before this moment.  He was definitely an idiot, he decided.  

“I guess I am different,” he acknowledged.  “But I’d rather everybody didn’t treat me like I’m some kind of monster.” 

“We are all some kind of monster,” she protested, and actually winked at him before she turned to go.  Ethan considered, as she walked away, persuading her to let him take a swing at removing the crystal.  He had all the confidence in the world that he could do it.  But she had seemed nervous, and was likely focusing on the jeans dilemma to distract herself from what she would endure today. 

He instead called, “Donna.” 

She turned. 

“Good luck today.  Everything will go fine.” 

Her smile faltered, but she kept the brave facade up.  

—--------

Ethan didn’t see Donna or Karl again that morning.  Eva and Moreau retreated to the basement soon after breakfast, and Alcina emerged looking frightfully gorgeous in a red dress.  Her face was stony, and she seemed intent on something (hating Ethan still, probably) until she saw Rose and Evie in their rusty orange, matching dresses and bows–and then she melted.  

Ethan brought out the patera to the circle they stood in, and held it out in the middle of the group.  His eyes met Alcina’s and he caught, for the first time, a glance of uncertainty….was that giddiness?  He pondered what she might have to say to one of Heisenberg’s ancestors, and then the world tipped upside down. 

—----------

Ethan’s mind was washed with memories while they turned.  The girls were giggling and Alcina was mesmerized, but his eyes blackened.  He saw his own hands, bloodstained.  More blood on snow.  Godric in front of him, smiling, his mouth red with blood.  The King was even larger, with golden-red eyes and a fiery anger that he had taken out on whoever’s corpse lay beneath him. 

His facial cuts healed instantly, in front of Ethan, as he smiled.  Breath fogged around him.  He spoke his language.  

To the next.  

He was speaking to the Black God. 

The scene was so viscerally real that Ethan had to double-check his hands for blood when he pushed against the familiar, isolated doors.  

Godric was sitting on his throne, but moved to kneel on the rug when the two girls rushed in.  He embraced both just as a favorite uncle would.  Ethan sauntered in behind them as Alcina looked uncertainly around.  She would have recognized the church site.  Her eyes had not landed on Godric yet, as she took in her somewhat familiar surroundings.  

Ethan felt a sudden change in his chest, his body; it happened before he could process it.  The thing inside him moved and stirred, stretching out within him.  He was nearly horrified to feel his mouth and jaw expanding into the elongated, exaggerated features of the night before.  Red and gold eyes shone and lighted on the King; Ethan was taller, abruptly. 

This slightly monstrous shift was taken in great stride by Godric, who stood and clapped his hands once before moving to embrace Ethan.  “My old friend!” 

He wasn’t speaking to Ethan.  He spoke to the creature directly, in his own language.  

Ethan growled a reply, not recognizing his own voice, and he was shocked when, after the firmly planted kiss on his cheek, Ethan’s own tongue left his mouth-it was long, like a dog’s, oh god-and licked up one side of the other man’s scratchy beard.  Godric roared with laughter and picked Ethan up as he had the children, rocking him.  

The girls shrieked and giggled below.  When Godric dropped the blond, the spell seemed to be broken and Ethan abruptly returned to normal-he hadn’t even felt the transformation back to himself.  He shook his head, embarrassed, as Godric put him almost in a headlock.  He was squeezing Ethan hard.  His eyes danced.  “You are a warrior,” he said, poking a finger into Ethan’s chest.  “Beautiful display.  Wonderful spirit.”  

The blond couldn’t help but smile, even though he felt he would run out of air in a moment.  Godric dropped him entirely when his eyes landed on Alcina.  

She looked, if it were possible for her…. nervous .  Ethan remembered, as he clambered to his feet, how she’d expressed distaste for men touching her.  He stepped in the middle of the two, still trying to catch his breath from the hug.  “Alcina, this is ..well, King? Godric.  Godric, this is Lady-”

“Dimitrescu,” he finished, his loud and bruteish body language softening.  How was that possible?  And why hadn’t Godric treated Ethan so fragile?  He’d just been dropped, after all.  He stepped forward, a rather serious expression on his usually smiling face.  He extended one hand.  

She took it, resolutely, and stepped up to him.  They were both tall, but Godric still towered over her.  This seemed to unnerve Alcina, and she tensed up as if waiting on a hug.  The smile returned to Godric’s eyes, and he gave a very formal kiss to her knuckles.  “I have heard you do not like men,” he said rather bluntly, and Ethan raised his eyebrows.  

Alcina balked at this introduction, but he quickly added with a nod, “A wise choice.  Fiends, all of them.  Please, come sit.” She actually smiled at this and her lip trembled.  He gestured at the throne, which sat empty.  Alcina looked doubtful at this idea, but he began to lead her forward anyway.  Godric’s good-natured smile seemed to win even her over as she moved after him, settling onto the seat.  

Ethan sat on the bench he usually took, feeling unusually sheepish.  He’d licked an almost seven foot tall man.  What could he even say after that? He was content to sit and listen.  

Godric dropped casually to the steps, and then motioned for Ethan to sit next to him.  The blond awkwardly slid off the bench and nestled beside the large King.  As one arm draped over him, and Alcina raised a quizzical eyebrow, Rosemary climbed up the broad man’s back, using his long hair as a brace to pull herself up.  Evie was now pushing her fingers into the ash that had fallen after hundreds of years of existence in this chamber, and she rubbed it onto Godric’s eyes.  

“Warpaint?” Ethan ventured, and Godric closed his eyes to placate the girl. 

“Makeup,” she corrected.  

Ethan withdrew the goodbye letter that he’d read this morning.  He passed it to the King silently, and Godric held it close to his chest as if giving it a hug.  “I will read it when alone,” he offered, and the blond nodded.  

With one eye now covered in the world’s most death-metal-looking smoky eye, Godric turned to Alcina, letting Evie have access to his other eye.  He squeezed Ethan’s hand reassuringly; when had they started holding hands?  Ethan had to roll his own eyes.  Godric was just as invasive as any mold consciousness, moreso, but the blond loved it.  

The King’s voice was deep, rich, but still gentle.  “Lady, you had business to meet me, to ask?” 

Alcina looked rather…in place, on the throne, Ethan realized.  Godric didn’t look so bad in ‘makeup’, either.  The woman fidgeted, and then bit her red lip.  “I do.  Eva spoke with me at length when we went through the castle.  About her role.  She insinuated that you know more than anyone, about the…presence that the Mold colony has always supplied from its catalogued minds.”  That was a mouthful, and she exhaled as she finished.  

“The Queen,” he said simply, knowingly, as Evie began brushing through his long beard.  Rosemary might have been doing something with his hair, if she had the dexterity, but mostly she was pulling it into knots.  Godric didn’t even notice or grunt in pain as Karl had done.  He simply smiled slyly through his darkened lids at Alcina.  

She, like everyone else, was flustered at his stare.  She wrung her hands over their black gloves.  

“Yes.  That.  Well.  Is it true, that you know the process?”

“Process,” he said uncertainly, turning over the word.  “Is an easy ritual.  Mold chooses.”  

Wait .  Ethan had no idea that Alcina even knew about this, let alone wanted to discuss it.  He pivoted, as much as he could under the hulking arm. 

“I see.  I  would like to….”  She steeled her voice, seeming frustrated at herself for faltering.  With a small shake of her head, she tried again, to Godric’s ever-widening smile.  

“I wish to be the Queen.”   

[snow-noir]

Making a Book Cover

This illustration began March 5th and officially ended March 16th with a couple revisions along the way. Unlike most commissions of mine, this came about almost by accident. It started as a call to Simon the author, an old friend of mine that evolved into a vivid description of book cover ideas for his novel and I pulling out an iPad and sketching as he spoke. Completely spur of the moment.

An Idea

As he spoke, I drew an incredibly rough job of what he was describing. Very messy and more gestured lines than any actual shape. Using whatever font and colour was last utilised on my iPad and adding things I thought were fun, such as the crown, which only exists in the first version because I was playing around. This would not become a real commission until later. For now it was very loose and just friends talking ideas.

This version took about a minute to draw out. It was Simon’s enthusiasm that made me suggest sending him an artist question/prompt document to better flesh out his ideas for an artist to use as guidance. It was clear that this version was not the exact match to his mental image but the idea was there and worth exploring.

Questions and Contracts

Over the next 2 days, I created some questions about the book cover and Simon filled it in. A lot of clients do not think the way we artists do and sometimes don’t know what they need to describe or ask to bring their ideas to life, being able to expand upon a commission discussion through a questionnaire or document is a good way to ensure you’re both on the same page. Sometimes the questions can be odd but might help with inspiration later. For this work, an example is “Is the Stag aware of the eagle behind it?” which can navigate facial expressions when unsure what to draw.

For artists new to commissions in particular I would suggest sending your client a questionnaire on top of the verbal/text message conversation if the intended work is complex. Written requests create not only a reference sheet for yourself but it is also a way to protect yourself. The questionnaire creates a clear outline of the expectations of the artwork and your client cannot return and ask for more work under the original agreement (and agreed payment). This has happened to me in the past and these pseudo contracts have better negated that from happening again. Doesn’t have to be a questionnaire, it can be anything like a few dot points from your chat with them or copy/pasting text messages onto a document that the client has reviewed. Just something solid and in writing.

Fleshing out the Concept

After receiving and reviewing Simon’s questionnaire answers and compiling some reference images, I began to add detail the animals, mostly the eagle. The eagle itself was not too difficult to render, I’ve drawn a lot of wings for Aasimar’s so that element was a very smooth process. What I did find difficult surprisingly was drawing the legs and body proportions of the eagle. I had drawn the head and feet first before fleshing out the body, so drawing around them was a challenge. I then revised the sketch a few times to neaten it. The stag however was a bit of an afterthought at this stage as my focus was the eagle. Though I did do a rough redraw so he was facing more front on, seen below.

What I should have done here was finish with a roughly drawn eagle to the same detail as the stag to get advice from Simon before continuing. This was my mistake as it did require more revisions and work I could have otherwise skipped had I not jumped the gun.

I sent this draft to Simon and he explained that whilst the eagle was awesome! He had actually pictured something more aggressive. Wanting the eagle to completely take up most of the space. Notably the Stag would be enveloped entirely by the eagle cresting up behind it and the wings should go beyond the books cover. 

This is a great example of why semi-finished sketches need to be revised by the client before going too far. However, with the advice in hand we move forward!

Symmetry and Composition

Instead of completely throwing out my original design, I instead cut up the sketch and blew up elements of it to reposition on the page. This is why the line work thickness in this version is all over the place. But everything about this stage was getting an understanding of the desired composition. The stag at this point was just a matter of detailing what was there. 

I do want to pause and quickly touch on things I’ve learnt about Symmetry as it was heavily relied on for this work. Symmetry is a good friend and seriously cuts down time on the work. However, symmetry is good in portions. I did not use it for 100% of the design as I personally find elements of asymmetry better to look at. Symmetry is present everywhere excluding the animal’s eyes, ears and skulls. I do this for a more realistic look as our eyes not only enjoy elements of asymmetry in faces but placing asymmetry around the animals eyes takes longer for viewers to process that most of the image is symmetrical. This is because people look to the eyes first. I did not have to do this but it was a call I made early on in my work and it is more of a personal taste.

The Final Outline

This re-composition got very positive feedback and I went back to properly finish the outlines. The only change request from Simon was for grander looking antlers. On this step I spent most of my time being pedantic about my lines. Going over the whole thing again to neaten as much as I could. This version was finalised and another phone call with the author was had to discuss colours, lighting and fonts moving forward.

Moving onto Colours

I’m glad I had that second call with Simon after the finished sketch as I learnt that these were not going to be coloured as realistic animals, rather they were meant to appear like metallic emblems. I didn’t mind but it was something I didn’t realise was at play nor was it mentioned on my reference document. Now limited to a gold and silver pallet I had more focus on the detailing and texture then pulling colours for elements like feathers, fur, beaks, irises, eye whites, antlers ect

The background also had to be a deep crimson red around the last line of text, fading to a black. Harsh shadows around the eagle like in this reference image. 

Below is the flat colours I showed during the call.

Golden Eagle

Sometimes drawings go through a “weird phase.” For this one it was definitely the eagle before the shadows went in. ill share because it’s cool to see how much shadows effect the final work. 

With the raw eagle now completed, I then duplicated each of its drawing layers and darkened the whole thing down to erase shadows out of. I completely cut around the talons and face, making five different layers of the black shadows in varying intensity. Each layer having erased a little more from the centre and getting darker closer to the edge. 

A Font Fitting the Genre

Just as important as the illustration, Simon and I also discussed fonts. He had no idea what he was after or what would look good for the title. Typography is not usually something we have in mind when thinking of our works. My suggestion was to look at some other book covers he liked or look at some novels in the War Fantasy genre that caught his eye. Just as something I could use as a launch pad. Below were some examples provided and using these as guidance, we finalised the cover using font RiseOfKingdom for the title and DamascusLight as the author name. 

This is my first book cover commission and I’m only using a drawing app. This is also the first time I’ve incorporated typography as a major element. The written elements had to be manually re-centred and the authors name individually respaced out by each letter so the author name was larger and in line with the title. If I were to do this again I would definitely utilise an Adobe program to cut down significant time doing hand spacing.

The Stag in Silver

The stag was textured and coloured in a very similar way to the eagle and had no design issues during this whole process. I do this with all my works but a trick to drawing silver is to draw the silver thing in gold first. When it’s finished I then go back and de-saturate 78% - 95% of the colours so all the hues of the silver is consistent with the gold. The stag was drawn this way and in the art files there are 5 hidden layers where the stag is actually gold and has a filter over it. 

Purple Lighting and Touch Ups

Lastly the lighting. In the books narrative, the stag house colours are silver and purple and the eagles, gold and crimson. Simon wanted to have all representative colours featured on his cover. The purple in particular was to appear as a soft glow emanating out of the Stag and back upon the eagle. This element was left to last so all lighting was consistent throughout the work.

A subtle crimson hue was also added on the eagle as a soft bridge between the black shadows of the eagle to better convey the bird appearing out of the crimson shadows.

This version was presented to Simon and he was incredibly happy with the result calling it finished! Thank you so much for reading!

Snow Noir

~

A Game of Antlers and Talons by Simon Ridgecrest is a war fantasy novel not yet published but once the book is available, I will add a link to it here.

“High Lord Ages is dead, his highly coveted lands forfeit by royal decree to the immensely powerful Count Errod Varlion. But as the kingdom of Ellerton grows more powerful, the eagle in the south grows more vicious...

After generations of harassment from the neighbouring kingdom of Fallitia, King Berekain of the kingdom Ellerton determines that he will achieve resolution in his reign and bring a long-lasting peace to his kingdom. Striking a deal of peace with Ring Kalanthir of Fallitia, both kings commit to an alliance, sealed by the marriage of their eldest children.

As the day of the union draws nearer, a cunning gambit is spun by skilled players, all eager to gain the upper hand over their opponents. As motives become unclear and loyalties are called into question, trust wains, and the glimmer of peace flickers ever further from grasp...”

[lettersformyamazinghusband]

March 15, 2025

J,

Wow, at lot has happened recently. Summer and Elizabeth channeled for me and gave me some tidbits about you. Apparently you have a J initial, hence why I've taken to calling you J. You have a strong jawline, a beard, and have a childlike fun about you. Our connection is like we've known each other for forever. Your English apparently. Elizabeth said she sees me moving to the English countryside. I balked a bit at that. I asked Summer about it and she confirmed it. She said she sees me/us near Dorset. Not gonna lie, Dorset looks incredible. I definitely already have pictures of it on my vision board.

I also channeled myself recently (2/28). I think I did, at least. After some breathwork my left hand felt like it was buzzing and I felt drawn to open my notebook and start writing. I consciously started writing, but then something took over and it wasn't my hand writing anymore. The words were just flowing through me. The message was essentially "love yourself. Jacob is already yours. You find each other so easily and naturally. Love yourself. Live your best life." My mind was definitely blown.

Then on 3/5 after some tapping, I felt called to write in my notebook again. The message that came through was pretty much the same. "Just be happy and be grateful for where you are. Literally everything is coming. Pieces are just falling into place. Have faith, trust yourself and us. We'll get you where you're going."

My mind was blown again. Elizabeth also said you love potatoes. Which works out so well, because I also love potatoes.

I have been working on consciously loving myself every day. I even have a note in my phone where I document what I did each day to love myself. Today I tapped, meditated, and ate a salad for dinner. Oh, and I worked out! Gotta get them gains.

I spoke with Summer after she and Elizabeth channeled for me. I said I was worried I would mess up this timeline and never meet you. She said I'll meet you regardless and that it seems destined to her. She urged me to focus on how I can bring the feeling of joy, excitement, and love into my current reality.

So, I'm working on that. I am working on being the highest most aligned version of myself. I'm trying to focus loving my time in America, because who knows how much time I have left here.

One hard thing is I cannot tell my mom or sister. Mom obviously wouldn't believe in it because of channeling. I think Kinsey would maybe think I was abandoning her? With mom getting older, especially. I think I just need to let them live it out in real time, because when they see I'm moving abroad for love, they'll be supportive.

I am so incredibly grateful for the Dreamaway girls. They make growing through life seem fun and normal. Whereas so many people around me are hellbent on staying the same. In the same day we literally supported a girl going through an abortion and then were supportive of BDSM later that evening. Talk about the ultimate girls chat. They heal something inside of me they didn't break.

Wow, I didn't realize I had so much to say. Alright, anyways.

I love you,

Meggo

[illeaadante]

my thoughts on "Hear me Out" cakes

As a proud Ace who is also on the furry/monsterfucker side of the ace spectrum*, there are a few types of hear me outs:

Did not understand the assignment: these people are out here putting regular humans, real life attractive actors and other things that even the most normie of normie would go: "That's not a hear me out." Like. You can't put FLYNN RYDER on a "Hear Me Out" Cake. There was a WHOLE, DOCUMENTED MEETING on how to make him as hot as possible. F- see me after class.

Obvious Furry: they aren't out as a furry yet, possibly not even to themselves, but the trend is clear. It's hard for me to find the line on this one, because I too am a furry, at least a little bit. But there are some normie choices in here too. Look, most disney animals are drawn to appeal at least a little bit. Putting any character from Robin Hood, Zootopia, or Lola Bunny specifically is normie tier. The Kovu people are still basic but have more rights as he's less anthropomorphized. (Also, I understand. I am one of y'all.)

Obvious Robotfucker: y'all know who y'all are. I see one Transformer on that cake and I know your AO3 history is better left between you and God.

Understood the Assignment, surrounded by Normies: these are the people who actually have decent hear me outs, but are hamstrung by their need to not be seen as a total freak by the people around them. They'll pull out some good, solid picks: a side character from monsters inc, plankton from spongebob, etc. but you know they are holding back from going full freak.

Normie: these can also go under didn't understand the assignment bc their picks are usually either straight up real people or very human, conventionally attractive characters. These are the people who will put Pixar Moms or Hiccup Haddock on their cake and think they're actually doing something.

Understood the Assignment, proud Freak: the only people I actually respect. These are the people who will put a Dark Souls boss on their cake with their whole chest. You can tell the difference between them and the obvious Furry or obvious Robotfucker bc they'll put animals or robots, but the animal will be specifically Hopper from A Bugs Life or some sort of too many limbed monstrosity, and the robot will be, like, one of the trains from Thomas the Tank Engine, or a real life tank.

*for those who don't understand, think about it this way. For many asexual people, sex as a concept is already incredibly strange, so adding a non-human/ball of features/eldritch monstrosity is only going to up the weirdness factor a little bit, and makes the potential logistics more interesting to contemplate. Also, for me as an aegosexual (read as: sex is fine as long as I'm not involved), it's easier to think about sex in the context of something that cannot happen.

[ailtrahq]

The saga surrounding self-proclaimed Bitcoin inventor Craig Wright may soon come to an end. After years of legal disputes and various court cases, Craig Wright is in danger of losing his last allies. After Christen Ager-Hanssen left nChain Group on Saturday, a leaked email suggests that Calvin Ayre, another once-strong supporter and financier, is also distancing himself from Wright. Doubts Surrounding Wright’s Satoshi Claims Intensify Christen Ager-Hanssen, who until Saturday held the position of Group CEO at nChain Global, made waves with his public announcement of departure. His statements not only shed light on the internal dynamics and discord within nChain but also cast significant doubts on Wright’s claims of being the elusive Satoshi Nakamoto. “I can confirm I have departed from nChain Global [..] I have also reported that I have found compelling evidence that Dr Craig Wright has manipulated documents with the aim to deceive the court that he is Satoshi. I’m today myself convinced that Dr Craig Wright is NOT Satoshi […] The board didn’t take action and my job became clearly untenable. #faketoshi,” Ager-Hanssen wrote on X (formerly Twitter). This revelation becomes even more crucial in the context of an email that Ager-Hanssen made public, allegedly from Calvin Ayre to Craig Wright. Ayre, who has been a staunch supporter of Wright’s endeavors, seems to voice a deep-rooted skepticism and dissatisfaction with Wright’s ongoing legal disputes and the veracity of his claims. A snippet from Ayre’s email reads: “Right now the only negative in my life is your litigation disaster. I will accept your explanation that you did not actually threaten me so the following is the situation we find ourselves in. I have been operating under the assumption that you and Ramona have the keys and you were simply pretending not to have them as part of some strategy. But now we are looking at a situation where continuing to deny you ruin your life and damage your supporters.” Within the Bitcoin community, critics have repeatedly called on Craig Wright to sign a transaction of Satoshi BTC’s in the past to prove that he is the inventor of Bitcoin. Wright has never complied with these requests, even in various courts. Now, Ayre also seems to have had enough. The COPA court case seems lost, in his opinion, if Wright does not sign the Bitcoin mined by Satoshi Nakamoto. Unless Wright does so, he could lose not only his last major supporter, but possibly one of his biggest funders of the proceedings. “I am forced to make a tough decision. It no longer matters if you have the keys or not as it is my opinion based on advice from Zafar and others that you cannot win the COPA trial if you do not sign at Harvard so I have no choice in what I have to do,” Ayre wrote. Relief For The Bitcoin Community Calvin Ayre further remarks that losing the COPA case will lead to Wright losing all the other cases. “As COPA will set a precedent that you are not Satoshi in law. All IP other than nChain patents will disappear. […] So either you are a moron for intentionally losing this case, or you are a moron for actually not having the keys… either way, I am not following you over the cliff,” he said. The discourse surrounding the drama has drawn attention from prominent crypto figures. Nic Carter, a crypto journalist, weighed in on the unfolding situation, expressing that the potential rift between Ayre and Wright could signal the end of the Wright-Satoshi saga: Calvin losing faith in CSW is the only way this thing would ever end. It’s incredibly good news that it appears to be happening now. Without his patron, none of his legal harassment of ordinary Bitcoin devs and advocates can continue. Very, very welcome development. At press time, BTC traded at $28,149, up 3.6% in the last 24 hours. BTC breaks above $28,000, 1-day chart | Source: BTCUSD on TradingView.com

[misscammiedawn]

(Cammie note: this has been in our drafts since Dec 2023)

Reblogging this today, coincidentally a year later, as it came to mind.

It was about the time this post was made that we received our DID diagnosis. The recording of that session where we received the F44.81 stamp had me directly say to my clinician "But I don't get blackouts though."

Denial. It comes and goes in waves but it never stops its barrage.

The post above is yet another kernel of proof. I do have memory gaps and missing time. Quite often. The issue is that I sensationalized the idea in my head and it's not a sharp switch between "know" and "don't know" or "remember" and "don't remember".

It's a gradient. A smooth transition between states that simply cannot be internally perceived.

Today required me to pull up my divorce records for a legal thing we are navigating. I had looked through my emails and folders and found them empty. I looked through social media and Discord for references to the date so I could do a targeted search.

I found nothing.

Past us had deleted every reference to the event. Of course she did. When we are hurt... Really hurt we dissociate hard enough that in the moment we act like there was never an upsetting event. In 2022 we tore out our own heart and then... didn't mention it. When I look through my journals I can recognize the blank spots now. January 2002, September 2005, the entirety of 2016 and 2019 for some reason, and of course July 2022.

2019-2020 is a blur. The only reason I have records of 2020 is because my therapist at the time was holding me accountable for my journaling. I have learned that I cannot trust the things I typed in that period of my life anyway.

I refer to it as "self-sabotage" in the original post but I think it's more a disruption in a framework designed to make a neat continuity.

The divorce happened. I know this. Deleting the chatlogs and documents and email correspondence does not change that fact. But it is now "in 2020 I got divorced" and when you interrogate the concept and try to apply a memory to it you may get the room this happened in, it was a Zoom call, I was at my desk.

Do you remember what you felt when you saw her for the first time after a year?

Do you remember who you went to for comfort afterwards, if you did at all?

Were you afraid?

Was it daytime or night time?

How long did the call take?

What age/gender was the judge?

How many people were on the call with us?

Were you happy or sad when it was over? Did you cry? Did you scream? Did you celebrate?

Do you actually remember this huge event in your life?!

...turns out I don't remember. I didn't let myself remember. But I know what happened and that's enough.

This right here, the ability to rationalize through things, is why people (until recently) did not get diagnosed with DID until their late 30s. Albeit there is a level of clinician bias and a anecdotal 7-10 years of misdiagnosis adding to the fact.

So why did I write this today?

Well I needed my divorce records and that meant opening Hell Box.

Opening Hell Box is always a discomforting experience for us. It's flooded with things we cannot deny. Things we cannot permanently throw away (as well as external hard drives filled with stuff that I would dwell on if I were to have access to them).

Inside I find photographs and drawn images that I do not recall. Letters from former loved ones, proof that they cared about me and kept in touch with me even after I abandoned them. I had forgotten that such letters existed. I shall likely forget again.

I find legal documents including the one I sought. I find a Sonic the Hedgehog themed gift still in box and I wonder "who got this for me? When? Why?" and of course "How did you end up in Hell Box?"

It's that magnet against eyeballs feeling again. That complete and utter void that you sense and decide "it's not important", "don't worry about it" and you just let it go.

It's easy to let it go.

Just don't dwell on it.

And so it is. The papers are retrieved. I close the lid on the hell box again and pretend it is not once more.

Alas.

(April 2024 edit: fuuuuuck! We need to work out our divorce date again for post citizenship paperwork and forgot again!! BACK TO THE GOD DAMNED HELL BOX WITH US!)

Hypnotic Amnesia and Eternal Sunshine

Personal post

Trying to watch movies again and put on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind because I've not watched it since my BPD diagnosis and apparently support communities seem to think it's a perfect and empathetic media representation of the condition and I wanted to go through it again with that in mind.

Firstly, they're not wrong. But I'll unpack that in private.

What I wanted to note is just how realistic the depiction of soft mental gymnastics and continuity of consciousness is. Strange of me to say how a plot of "scientifically erasing memories" is realistic, but I've played around with hypnosis and dissociate enough to know what it's like to experience.

The present day segments of the movie are punctuated by Joel writing in his journal. We get to experience his internal narrative as he experiences the events of the day. It helps build his character, get an idea of how he perceives the world and most importantly it gets to show how he ignores the "blips" of his machine induced amnesia.

For those who have not seen the movie, the story revolves around a relationship between Jim Carrey's Joel character and Kate Winslet's Clementine character. After they break up Joel discovers that Clementine erased Joel from her mind using a procedure that targets memories.

It's actually a good allegory for how BPD break-ups go. *looks over shoulder at my Hell Box, where all the things that remind me of my former life go to die; and the external hard drive that contains all the chatlogs and journals from that period of my life that I needed to remove to prevent re-reading them and triggering myself*

During the intro of the movie Joel, post-procedure, skips work and goes to Montauk and bumps into Clementine. Neither one of them recognizing one another because they both had the procedure; during which they meet and build an organic relationship that is a little bit influenced by their unconscious comforts with one another; having built a long lasting relationship together.

The amnesia and the unconscious compulsions ("Meet me in Montauk") aren't treated as programming or commands by Joel, though.

He opens his journal and notes ripped pages "I don't remember doing that" and the gap in time and simply plows through.

When I am responding to an amnesia suggestion or am faced with evidence of my own self-sabotage, I can sometimes perceive it as an act of an earlier Camden to try and prevent me from experiencing something, but more often than not there's a little bit of a dysphoric feeling which I describe as a like charged magnet against my eyes that softly pushes you away from the offending evidence.

You don't see something like that and instantly go straight to "No. This is WRONG. I would NEVER do something like that!" and start getting worked up. You note that it's odd and something inside you just ushers you along out of that moment, like the discomfort of experiencing it is so strong that you do not linger in it.

I see a lot of takes from movies where people project their "that makes no sense" "why didn't he?" attitudes, but they handle it about as would be expected. When he feels the compulsion to suddenly go to Montauk it's not like a maiden being risen from their sheets to unlock the window for Count Dracula, it's a series of soft triggers.

Standing at the train station on his way to work he sees the train going in the other direction. A train he has taken in the past to a destination that holds a significance he doesn't quite understand, but it just feels right. He is driven by the impulsive urge because by seeing the train, knowing where it's going it's just the thing he should do. As naturally and organically as anything else.

When I was first playing around with hypnosis I always thought that a trigger would do as it does in media. Make you recoil, eyes dilate, code switch into an obedient setting. But no, it's just a drive, a nudge, a reminder. Don't dwell on it. Just do it.

As Joel and Clementine talk there's one moment that gets me. Clementine, after saying her name, sharply orders Joel not to make any jokes. Joel is confused, not sure what she means.

"Huckleberry Hound?" "I don't know what that is."

Later in the movie we discover that he was familiar with the "Oh my darlin', oh my darlin'" song, but it got erased because it is mapped to her in his mind and anything that reminds him of her has to go.

And that's how things are with triggers, connections and mental associations. It's so easy for innocuous things to be reminders of things/people and there are always going to be circumstances that you want erased.

One of the reasons I don't enjoy movies that much anymore is that when I was married I ran a movie theatre. Movies and that era of my life are linked. An unbreakable bond. To enjoy movies is to be who I was when I was married... before I came out the closet... and doing so is uncomfortable for me. So that like powered magnet in my brain just pushes it away, I don't enjoy watching movies anymore. Watching movies makes me feel bad and I don't want to feel bad.

Especially this one, which played a significant role in my getting married in the first place.

But here I am. Watching it. Enjoying it. Not turning away.

It's fascinating just what the brain can and will do to keep you from thinking and feeling on certain topics.

Trying to rescue the part of me that enjoys cinema is going to be a god damned project, but this stuff once brought me joy. I know it can again.

This post kind of got away from me, huh?