#I'm grown enough to figure out my Patterns as a being in the world. to adjust like one does for the seasons

[krshush]

There are certain ways my brain is autocannibalizing that just. It Just.

[walkingstackofbooks]

"Come on, tell me what's up."

Jadzia was supposedly sitting with Julian in Quark's to have a long-overdue gossip with her friend, but after a few minutes of pleasant chatter, Julian had gone silent, and Jadzia was tired of waiting for him to volunteer what had happened.

Julian blinked, peering up at her over his screen as though he'd entirely forgotten she was there. "Sorry... what?" he asked slowly.

"You've been staring at your PADD, biting your lip, ever since you got that message? What was it?"

Julian's answering sigh was decidedly world-weary for someone who had yet to turn thirty. "Oh, nothing," he said, waving her off. "Just... Well. The commander's invited me to dinner on Thursday."

In Jadzia's books, being cooked for by Benjamin did not deserve Julian's despondency. "And that's bad because...?"

"It's not bad! Of course it isn't, it's nice to be asked, I'm- I'm looking forward to it--"

"You're an awful liar, Julian."

He grimaced at her. "Okay, I was looking forward to it. But then he sent me this and, I don't know, Jadzia - okay, he means well, but I'm not sure I can face it."

Jadzia looked at the message displayed on the PADD. >>I'm deciding what to cook for Thursday. I know you're not a fan of beets, are there any other foods you don't like?<< it said, giving her no clue at all as to why Julian was suddenly so anxious.

"Seems normal enough to me," she remarked. "What's the problem?"

That clearly had been the wrong question to ask. Looking away from her, Julian leant back against the chair, almost seeming to shrink as he pulled his shoulders into himself.

"I know it's stupid, and I should be more grown-up about it, but I just, I don't..." He reached over to take the PADD back, and started to stare at it again, as if the message contained some secret code that Jadzia was unaware of. His fingers were tapping a rapid pattern against the metal, and Jadzia's brain was working overtime to try and figure out what her friend was so anxious about.

"Come on, Julian, I can't help if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

Taking a deep breath, Julian looked up at Jadzia seriously. "Should I lie to him?" he asked in one quick breath, so earnestly that Jadzia had to lean over and reread the message, certain she must have missed something.

"Lie to him about what?" she asked, having assured herself that yes, Benjamin's question had been completely innocuous. "About what you don't like to eat?"

"Well, yeah..." Julian said quietly, shrugging. "Would that be so wrong?"

Understanding filtered through Jadzia's mind, and she reached out to squeeze Julian's arm. "You don't need to be embarrassed that you don't like some foods," she said, smiling gently. "Benjamin's not going to judge you for it."

"Even when I can't eat the dinner he cooks?" Julian responded sourly, snatching his arm away. "It won't matter what he does with them, I can't eat beets, Jadzia, I just can't."

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at him coldly. "Hold up, are you saying that you think Benjamin wants to make you a dinner that you don't like?"

Julian frowned at her. "Well... no... He wants to make me like it, right? That whole dad-thing of changing my mind about beets and stuff, like that's never been tried before."

For a few seconds, words deserted Jadzia; all she could do was shaker her head at Julian in confused disdain. "Why would you think Benjamin would be so deliberately cruel?" she asked eventually. "It's not like he forced them on you at the staff dinner, we all saw your reaction. Why would you assume he's not simply asking you so that he can avoid cooking something you dislike?"

Now it was Julian's turn to stare wordlessly at Jadzia, his shoulders slackening as he processed what she had said. A few moments later, and his eyes had returned to the PADD once more, running over those few lines of text more times than Jadzia thought was really necessary.

"You really think that's what he meant?" he asked, scowling at the screen. "I guess... I guess that would make sense..."

Jadzia rolled her eyes. "Of course that's what he meant," she said. "Although if you really need confirmation I can always ask him."

"No!" Julian's head shot up to look at her, his eyes wide. "No, you don't need to do that, Jadzia - I'm just tired, I just read it wrong, that's all... You- you don't need to tell him about this. Please?"

"There's really nothing to be worried about, Julian," she scoffed. "You know he'd probably laugh it off--" Julian sent her a look of sheer panic, and she held her hands up placatingly. "...but no, I won't tell him anything, okay?" she continued quickly. "How much sleep did you get last night, anyway? You're really not acting like yourself."

Julian shrugged. "Not enough, evidently," he muttered, packing his PADD away in his bag and standing up. "Thanks, anyway, Jadzia," he said, smiling at her in that awkward, uncertain way of his. "I'm going to head back to my quarters now, I think."

"That's probably for the best," Jadzia agreed. "Get some rest. Tomorrow it's my turn to be the tired one."

"Funny," replied Julian dryly. He fiddled with his bag strap, seemingly reluctant to leave.

"Are you going?"

"Yeah, I just... Jadzia, you know I didn't mean anything- I mean, I wasn't trying to imply that I thought Sisko is, you know, cruel, or whatever, right? It was only that... Well, I thought- Well, no, I wasn't thinking--"

"Go to bed," Jadzia laughed, cutting him off. "You are thinking way too much right now. I'm still not sure how that idea crossed your mind, but clearly you're too tired to be coherent right now. I'm sorry I was cross, okay?"

"It's okay," said Julian quickly. "I was being stupid anyway."

"Just a bit," she replied, smiling at him fondly. "But then, I guess that's just you."

"Yeah. Just silly old me."

As he walked away, Jadzia felt a prickle of unease reach across her chest; Julian's smile had still not reached his eyes, and she wondered if her joke had been in good taste, given how anxious Julian apparently became when sleep-deprived. But she shrugged it off, reaching for her surprisingly untouched drink. If Julian was still in low spirits tomorrow, she'd apologise, but most likely a decent night's sleep would restore his normal good mood. There was no reason to worry.

[multi-fandom-veteran-writer]

The long awaited preview of the next part of my series.

Surprise! Bet you thought I had given up on the series, huh? Far from it! This series is far from over and will continue far into the future. For those who have sent in requests, I will be able to get to them, so keep a look out for those!

How could something dangerous be so beautiful? Sackboy had been trudging along with his jester guide and taking in the environment all the while. The sky and surrounding air seemed to be comprised of purple haze with scattered pieces from around Craftworld itself. There were even what appeared to be streamers with a red and blue zigzag pattern, seeming to come from the lord of the Uproar's outfit. 

As they walked, the pathway materialized below them, colored blue and green. He was trying his best to take it all in, the young child's home away from home. Trying to listen to what his father figure way saying and pointing out to him.

Vex felt an immense joy, the happiest he had been in a long time. Vex was showing his home to someone who could be classified as his enemy and was now his greatest creation, an individual that the jester had taken great pride in shaping in his image. The Uproar had changed very little since he had tried to conquer Craftworld, then again it was just as he liked it; chaotic and despair-filled, with just a touch of terror. 

Noticing the young child looking around in interest and awe filled him with amusement, the jester had been the same way when he had set out on his own,  ready to exact revenge on all those who would dare oppose him. Coming to a stop at what appeared to be the beginning of the Uproar, the bright light showed that they had indeed reached the end of the tour.

"Seems you enjoyed that Sackers. I hope I was able to fill your curiosity about where I came from and what Craftworld will look like once I'm done with it. If you have any questions, now is the time before my patience runs dry and I completely regret my decision of keeping you around. Fortunately for you, I have grown rather fond of you becoming my successor however it doesn't mean I will go easy on you. Just because you are a child doesn't mean I will exempt you from even the most rigorous training, it is life and death, once I'm done with you, our enemies will be sorry they ever crossed us."

Being used to similar training from his mentor's knitted knight trails and saving the Imagasphere from near godly beings, but Vex was a different story all together... Not only was he deadly but cunning and had lived long enough to learn from his mistakes should he learn any. That coupled with his deadly intelligence made him a truly terrifying individual; experiencing anything and everything and living to tell the tale, made him the deadliest enemy yet.

The young child's family even subject him to harsh treatments of their own, trying to toughen him up no matter how cruel it may have been. The young knight then realized he would rather take Vex's training, seeing how he already knew what the jester was capable of, whereas everyone else was unpredictable. Nodding his head with agreement, he suddenly felt an unexplained pain. Not wanting to worry or anger the other, the child simply brushed it off.

Feeling satisfied with himself and his success, Vex knew they would have to make their way back to the waking world. Surprisingly feeling well rested, he simply chalked it up to being in his nightmare scape for a longer amount of time. It was more than that; the Uproar being even more widespread and the young sack practically being a walking Uproar energy source, filled him with a power he never thought possible. Yes, he may have been a being made of chaos and despair but that was before he had reached his full potential and that had all changed when an unfortunate circumstance had befallen him. Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, he made sure the young sack was situated and closing his eyes, willed them to the waking world.

The first thing he noticed when waking up was they were still in the grassy field, sitting cross-legged with the child on his lap. The sun was rising, casting its pinkish golden hues across the landscape, effectively dying it an array of colors. The air was chilly, seeming to nip at your skin slightly like there were ice particles scratching. Whereas it had only been him and the young sack, there was now a visitor, looking up eagerly at its master. It was a small minion, body the shape of a strawberry, little arms with gloved hands, green tuff of air on its head, and small beady eyes was none other than a grunty. It was nothing but a baby, seeming lost without a parental figure. Nuzzling its master's leg, not wanting to be alone.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Two chapters over the weekend because I was ✨ inspired ✨ and my neighbors can't stop fucking (noisily!) and I'm,,, envious.

Strange adventures in Hell. There are descriptions of desperation and doom, lots of magic and - hear me out - forced/reluctant hand holding 😌 Oh my God, they held hands!!!

"What. Were. You. Thinking?!" Strange was seething, his enormous figure and broader height towered over me, the blood-red of his cape vibrating, the only spleck of colour in the grey and dusty dark world.

"I had no choice in the matter," I replied as calmly as I managed, gritting my teeth, memories of our past stand-off fresh in my mind. We could have bickered until the end, until one of the beasts flying overhead spotted us and decorated the bleary grounds of this forsaken planet with the crimsons of our life blood. "I think it's best if we get to safety first, argue later. I have no desire to become somebody's lunch."

That much was true: I had taken a good look at our surroundings as soon as I recovered from the vacuum-like sensation of being pulled into a magical gateway; the visibility was terrible, the planet's natural light very scarce. Several suns were hardly visible in the sky, their rays barely penetrating the mists and the ashes freely floating in the air.

There was oxygen even if breathing in a full lungful seemed impossible; I tried not to think about the contents of the air, or the possibility of radiation poisoning, as the multiple amulets and charms seared into my skin where they rested under my clothes. I had four bottles of water, some bandages and salves and a sacrifice for a single ritual to my name and absolutely no conviction that Mother Earth would be able to hear the call of an earthling gone so astray.

But it was hope, so I held on.

"Fine," Stephen sighed, suddenly looking tired and weary, glancing around with furrowed brows. "Let's see if I can open a portal," his hands did that complicated set of gestures that I'd grown to associate with a golden circle and sparks on the ground. The thing flickered, once, twice, before disappearing, as if the Sorcerer's magic had run out of batteries. "Yeah, I thought so," he whispered to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"The bad news first, please," I interpreted his hesitation with a realistic outlook on our predicament.

"I can't open a portal just anywhere on this planet. We need to find a... Rift, of sorts," the man was anxiously looking around. "And those things, they'll smell us... Right about now," his eyes shot up at a winged, rapidly approaching shadow. "No good news, I'm afraid."

I allowed myself a small sigh of disappointment, keeping a tight leash on the panic slowly creeping up my body. The feeling of determination, the power of Gaia within me was still present, laying in a cozy dormant ball slightly south of my solar plexus. "Give me your hand, please," I reached out to Stephen only for him to promptly recoil.

"You should've thought about the consequences of your actions, I'm not going to hold your hand because you're scared shitless," his words were sharp but they lacked the venom. He wouldn't, or couldn't, meet my eyes.

"I know you have scarred hands. I'm a healer and you don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed I, I've seen worse," I stated in my best 'mutant nurse' voice as Stephen's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "Those things can't sense me. And I know they won't be able to sense you too if we have skin-to-skin contact. So unless you want me to get under your... Robes," I gestured to the layers upon layers of clothing he had wrapped himself in. I considered the possibility of his whole body being covered in scars, too, and couldn't help the pang of sympathy. "Take one glove off and give me your damn hand before this trip to Jurassic Park goes full pterodactyl massacre!"

I saw the thing in the sky open it's mouth - but no sound came out, the clouds reducing it's outline to a vaguely triangular shadow. There was something very unusual about this planet's atmosphere.

With a couple of jerky movements, Stephen slid off the glove from his left hand, looking away as his large, dry, warm palm encompassed mine in a gentle, trembling grip. It made no sense to interlace our fingers, so I help onto him like a child holds onto their parent; the size difference of our hands and his imposing aura surely made me feel like one.

We stood a foot apart, watching the shadow in the sky begin to circle the place we stood in, it's gaping maw opening again and again, before it zigzagged across the sky with a strong dash of confusion, it's graceful glide becoming a series of rapid turns and twists. With a final inaudible shriek, it flew off into the dusty greys of the horizon, becoming a dark spot far away in mere seconds.

The silence was so loud in this world. Like the eerie stillness of my, undoubtedly haunted, apartment, I was eager to dissipate it with something beyond our combined heavy breathing. "Please don't tell Tony," I timidly gave our touching hands a sway. "He'll never leave it alone."

A chuffing noise coming from above had me whip my head up to see Stephen holding in a puff of nervous laughter; his shoulders dropped slightly as he eyed me in turn. "What makes you think I won't tease you about it?"

"You wouldn't dare," I took mock offense, rising my leaking nose to the skies.

The grumble and the eyeroll I expected, the smirk that faded into a ghost of a smile I did not. "We should go. Usually there is a rift within a few miles of every location everywhere," he tried to keep the content expression as he spoke but the storm in his eyes betrayed his concern. They were so blue, I felt like I was drowning.

I let myself to be tugged in a direction - everything seemed exactly the same, a never-ending ashen wasteland with the occasional dark grey rock that crumbled to dust as soon as the heel of my shoe touched it. My light blue sweater quickly became the colour of rotten wood, a sickly, dull monotone between brown and gray.

The complete lack of any kind of natural noise brought out the desolation of this wretched place; if we gripped each other's hands tighter, neither of us chose to acknowledge it. It was too easy to get lost in your own mind when the surroundings were dead set on rebuking anything that was in any shape or form alive.

I caught myself thinking that this must be what people think Hell should look like.

Strange walked briskly for the most part, periodically clearing his throat and eyeing me when I struggled to keep up with his long strides. It could have been an hour, or maybe two, of aimless wandering and rapidly imploding portals accompanied by Stephen's increasingly overcast face before I made the man stop and offered him a water bottle, which he insisted we split between us two.

It didn't take me a tarot reading to figure out our chances were grim. Needless, I gave him the same look I give to injured, scared mutant children when they come to the bodega for the first time; a look of quiet temperance.

And then we walked, and walked again, as Stephen grew moodier and moodier, marching on with the force of a seasoned soldier, only taking breaks when I forced him to stand still and breathe with me. As cautious and closed-off as he was, I pressed onto the fact of me being a healer of sorts, and he relented if briefly, always reluctant, always seasoned by a great dose of bewilderment.

"Do you feel that?" Stephen's stride halted, both feet firmly planted on the ground.

The ground had tremors had coming from deep within, small shocks that could have been easily missed if not for the complete lack of sound on this world. My nod was mute, I didn't trust my voice not to break when I clearly knew there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, endless fields of nothing all around us.

"Hold onto me," promptly, I was grabbed and pushed into his chest, his long arms easily picking me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. "Hold tight, I might need my hands," my face grew hot as I wound my arms around Stephen's neck, clinging to him like a monkey, a palm resting on the soft fine hairs if his nape. It felt too intimate somehow, in the wake of imminent danger.

The Cape that previously swayed behind him in rhythm with his steps billowed, the red fabric of it tough as it levitated us a few feet above the ground. I felt Stephen tense with each tremor; within moments, the surface shook and stuttered more and more, cracks appearing in between the dust, turning the plains into a marble-patterned patch of darkness.

We rose above it, high enough that I could see the veins resulting from the quake stretch far out into the wasteland, jagged, abrupt lines of even more concentrated darkness. And as quickly as the quake started, it was over, leaving little evidence as the ground settled.

Stephen floated us to a larger patch of the ground, criss-crossed with thinner, less prominent lines, poking the ground with his foot before allowing it to fully bear our weight. He was shaken, there was no doubt. "That was... Something," he stated lowly.

"Mhm," I hummed, fighting the urge to frantically look around, forcing my hand from clutching at his palm like a lifeline. I had decided on a plan while I was busy playing baby koala - not that there were many other options except to wander these god forsaken bare badlands until our painful demise. "Listen, Strange, I'm aware you don't hold my people in particularly high regard but you're going to have to trust me on this," my words came out derisive as I placed his palm on the back of my neck and kneeled, forcing him to do the same behind me.

The contents of my bag greeted me grimly with out last bottle of water and the couple knick-knacks that gathered the black dust on them. I hastily poured the water into a bowl, dipping my fingers in it, and added the crushed bones to the mixture.

The time that was required to make a paste-like mixture, I used to address a bewildered Stephen. "This is a last resort. I don't know if it will work, we're not on Earth," I briefly breathed my distress. "I don't even know how far we are from home. But I refuse to die here, in this grotesque Hell, without putting up a fight and Gaia has always looked out for her flock. I might get very, very sick if this is successful."

The warning had him attempt to object before he cast a long look around us, shoulders sagging, as motioned for me to continue, those piercing blue eyes boring into my face. "Tell me what do I need to do," his voice quietly attempted to soothe my very obvious fear.

I was terrified, both of dying, nameless, faceles in this world full of Nothing; the prospect of withering away after depleting all my resources was, perhaps, equally unappealing, but dying on my home planet sounded better than dying here. "Have faith," I replied curtly, beginning to chant softly under my breath as soon as Stephen's expression hardened.

My eyelids grew heavy, limbs filling with lead and molten lava as I summoned the forces of Mother itself; my body was aching, exhausted by answering her call as it was. The warm ball in my chest that previously comforted me grew, spreading its smelten power through every vein, every vessel. No part of my body was left cold. A sense of purpose filled me, pushing me forward, driving me to move, to run, to leap.

"This way," even to my own ears, my voice sounded pained. It felt as if I was walking through swamp waters, full of clay and debris, each step taking my barely coherent form through an individual bog full of pins and needles. The force of Mother Nature burned inside of me, enraged at the state of her surroundings.

Stephen spoke to me but all I could hear was mumbling, thousands of voices, low and shrill, unintelligible to the human mind. I could feel the sorcerer's pain; the itch and burn in his throat, the constant, dull throb in his scarred, broken hands. His hand in mine only intensified the situation and I fought with his injuries like I fought with the black dots in my eyes, I forced down the unpleasant sensations, setting fire to them, letting the reigns of control on the raging inferno within me slip just the smallest, tiniest bit.

The steps of his long feet stuttered as I felt the discomfort lessen yet I simply towed him along. Time leaked through the cracks in my eyes, which were mostly unseeing anyways. The useless things grew blind at some point, not that I noticed it on the greys and blacks of the surrounding scenery. It was harder to walk, my breathing grew laboured with the extertion as we finally reached the place that felt right.

"Here," I rasped, voice so quiet it could have been mistaken for a breeze. I craved to feel it; the soft puffs of wind, the sound of running water. I had called for Earth and she demanded its child back.

The portal appeared without a stutter even though Stephen's hands shook; I saw the uneven channels, the energies traveling through them at an uneven pace. As soon as I pushed through the wormhole, coming to my senses in an unfamiliar, light room, I fell to my knees.

Stephen's pained moaning told me he was probably experiencing the same stinging, burning sensation on his skin; my eyes, they were the worst - my eyeballs felt like they were melting, leaking out of my sockets into thick, gelatinous tears streaming down my face. I blindly groped for the sorcerer's hand, directing the forces within me to soothe his hurts much like I had done in the wastelands.

"Strange?!" A masculine, shocked voice exclaimed before footsteps crashed into my sensitive ears with the force of an elephant herd. "Oh my God, they're here! Tony, come!"

"Stop fucking screaming," Stephen gasped out as I felt him curl into himself.

"Friday, scan them," I recognised Tony's voice, the tiredness and desperation standing out in it more than it did in the rest of the whispers in the room.

"They appear to be experiencing a sensory overload. I would recommend to engage Peter's Cooldown mode," the mechanical voice replied, barely audible. The noise still grated on my ears after spending... How long were we gone?

"Do it, Fri," Tony's soft footsteps reached us; I smelled the spices of his cologne next to my and Stephen's prone forms. "You gave us a scare there," the tone was admonishing but gentle.

"We were scared shitless ourselves," I attempted to speak, only now noticing how grating my voice sounded. "We were in Hell," I mumbled to myself, slowly removing my hand from Stephen.

"That," he coughed up the word, breathing through his nose before speaking again, his voice sounding much better than mine. "That place was as close as possible to biblical pits I have ever seen," there was shuffling and gentle murmurs as the two men ensured each other of their presence and well-being.

The burning sensations receded back to my core, the embers of the fires dying out, leaving me feeling like deflated beach ball, all shell and no filling. With a groan, I rolled over onto my back right in the middle of the pristine carpet on the floor, forcing my eyes open and breathing through the pain until I could somewhat see the champagne coloured ceiling without black dots obstructing my vision.

Shuffling noises reached my ears as a familiar round face with light red hair came into my line of sight, Wanda's gentle features concerned. "Star, do you need to go to medical?" She eyed me almost suspiciously but the question was earnest.

The idea of a doctor fixing a magical burnout was bizarre to me, as if it ever was that easy; I chortled sardonically. "No, Wanda, there's nothing wrong with me that a doctor would be able to fix," I replied honestly. "I should call Odette."

"I've called, she said to notify her when you return," Sam's voice was gentle as he approached. I could feel him glaring daggers at a rapidly reddening Wanda. "She was the one who said you'll definitely come back," he offered me his hand.

I had to choke down a moan of relief as I grabbed it. The warmth, the life of another human being, the precious gift of a beating pulse under my fingertips was divine. "You should listen to her. She knows her stuff." It was easy, talking to Sam as if he was an old friend. He had one of the most pleasant auras I've seen on a human being.

"I'm a doctor," Stephen suddenly perched up, sounding almost bashful. "And I can aid the healing process," he stated over Tony's disgruntled mumbling. "If you can explain to me how the hell you managed to hold a... an entire sun's worth of energy!" The more he spoke the more bewildered he became, tone growing in pitch, ending the sentence with an exclamation.

"I don't know," I replied with a sigh. The whole indignation in this man, I was not prepared to face. "When I took this up," I gestured vaguely to the burned, bent metal adornments I began to remove off my body. "I thought I was going to get an increase in tips and a better outlook on life. Help my friend with her asthma as much so she wouldn't have to use her inhaler every time she gets suprised or scared," my jewelry hit the floor with a dull clank, piling up into bent silver I wouldn't even be able to cleanse and repurpose.

Sam whistled lowly, poking at a necklace that had twisted on itself, a grotesque spiral of dull ashen grey.

"I certainly didn't think that a bleeding mutant accepting his fate as cannon fodder will call for the Earth itself," my tone grew vicious. Exhaustion was nesting in my bones. "And that Mother Nature would take over my body, pour lava into my veins and bleed recklessness into my thoughts. But here I am, freshly out of Hell and alive and kicking."

A stunned silence was interrupted by Tony's frantic whispering. "You are not leaving my penthouse for the foreseeable future," as the weight of the incident set on him. The knuckles of his hand clutching Stephen's dirty tunic turned white.

"I am," Stephen eyed me with a strange look in his eye, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes then turned to Tony, who'd began rambling, arguing with Stephen. The sorcerer stopped the word vomit with a grim confession. "I'd be dead if not for Starlight. I'd be meat and bone, splattered across a barren, radioactive land in the deepest, darkest pits of the universe."

I felt my face droop in slow-motion. My throat flexed, swallowing a thick lump of filthy mucus, I coughed up, "Ra-radioctive?" As soon as I could work my voice without it squeaking.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[sageblogsthings]

to celebrate The Crimson Moon reaching 30k as of this morning, i thought that i would share the progression of the opening lines of the book, and talk a bit about how the book has grown and changed in the last year! on july 27th it will be exactly a year since i first started writing this and wow i’m not getting emotional you are aha whaaaat

*cough* anywayyysss!!

draft one: please oh god don't judge me

ok i'm not going to talk negatively about my past writing because it got me to where i am today but. [marge i am looking away meme] if you can't tell, i wrote this when i was going through the existential crisis phase of uni and just wanted to live in the woods, i say like i would not currently move to the woods in a heartbeat asdklfja

at the time that i wrote this i was really happy with it because the writing was fun and, as a result, easy! at this point i was just writing in my down time from uni, and i didn't know what the plot was or what my plans were for the book as a whole. because this was just something i did in my down time, i think my writing took on more of a conversational, stream-of-consciousness tone, and that's part of what made this draft (or start of a draft, i only got like 12k in i think) so easy to write. but eventually, as the plot started to come together and i started to gain more inspiration from sff writers as a whole, i realized that this book wasn't heading in the direction i wanted it to. it wasn't just something to do in my free time at that point, it had taken on a life of it's own. and thus, draft two began.

draft two: electric boogaloo

ngl these lines still slap and i love them. there are definitely things i would change, but these lines will be in the current draft of the book, albeit not in the first chapter and altered slightly. when i started this draft, i didn't have an outline but i had a very clear, cinematic image of how i wanted this chapter to go. i think having that before i started writing helped a looooot, both in terms of prose and just being able to convey aspects of the setting/character in the first paragraph. as i continued writing this draft though, i realized that some of the character arcs didn't make sense or were getting a bit messy, and that, based on the story i wanted to tell, it didn't make sense to start with Xalia. while there are six main pov characters in this book, Vanna really is the main character and i wanted that to be clear.

draft three: this time it's personal actually good

these are the current first lines of the book, and honestly my favorite so far! starting off with Vanna rather than Xalia definitely gives the book a different feel, and it's one that's more true to the vision i have for it. in my opinion, this opening does a much better job of setting up some of the book's themes, which admittedly i'm still figuring out lol. grief and loss are major components of all the character arcs, and are integral to the plot itself. switching to present tense has also been a LIFE CHANGER for me. it's funny because, on the second stab at this book, i kept slipping into present tense, but forcing myself back to past tense because i thought present tense sounded weird. turns out it only sounded weird because it was surrounded by past tense, and now that i've written 3 chapters in present tense i can solidly say that this is the way the book was meant to be written. it just feels like my book now, and i'm so happy with where it's headed!

i also made an outline for this draft of the book, and while i've already deviated from it somewhat to work out plot holes or increase ~foreshadowing~ in certain scenes, getting all of the events out of my head and onto paper has really allowed me to just write because i know that i have a document to refer back to if i get stuck on where the story is headed. making the outline also really pushed me to think about character backstories, most of which i had previously established, but now they've changed a lot to fit together more cohesively and integrate with the plot more clearly. i've also changed a lot of the character designs, and as a result of changing the appearances and backstories of a lot of the characters, i feel a lot closer to them and the story itself. the characters have well and truly taken on a life of their own, and now i'm kind of just along for the ride, telling their stories and loving every second of it!

ALSO!! the last big change with this draft, which i just implemented literally this morning and am so so sooooo excited about, is having first person referral, present tense mini-chapters/interludes! it gives the book a really unique sound and ties into the plot really nicely i think! i feel like the structure and form of the story are finally tying into the story itself and it's driving me insane a little bit askdfjka

as of right now i'm not ready to reveal who the pov and referral characters are in these chapters, because i'm debating between a couple ways of doing things and if i go one way that would end up being a pretty big spoiler! that being said, i got really hyped up about it earlier today and rambled in the spoilers section of my server so if you do want that sweet sweet spoilers content....join my server! ;)

also. i hope u all know that i almost deleted that first snippet about ten different times but transparency in writing and all that, i really do want to show how much this book has grown and changed! even if it's going to cause me immense psychic damage to type up the image description for this but i digress

i think that's all for now, and thank you so so much if you read all of that! the love and support this project has received and continues to receive absolutely blow me away, and i can't thank you enough for being part of the journey! <3

the crimson moon taglist (ask to be +/-)

@dallonswords | @isherwoodj | @florraisons | @aetherwrites | @childhoodlovers | @bijouxs | @ziyin | @moonhungers | @piyawrites | @avi-why | @svpphicwrites | @alicewestwater | @ladywithalamp | @spencers-tomes | @discreet-writer | @sunwornpages | @abalonetea | @the-bard-writes | @x-writes | @morganwriteblr​ ​| @aphaimaniis | @stephwriteswords | @ninazeniks ​| @araliensmagica | @fuyugomori | @ryns-ramblings | @greyjaywrites | @marimos

image descriptions below the cut

[header image description]

the background is a dark castle with a checkerboard-patterned marble floor. the hallway fades into black, with the hint of a figure standing in the doorway. white text across the image reads "The Crimson Moon" in a large, all-caps font, and below that reads "wip update post" in thin, lowercase text.

[image description for excerpt one]

I lay on my back, gazing up at the sky. The weather was absolutely perfect. I could hear the crickets singing, the birds chirping, the brook babbling, all that good poetic shit.

I came out here often, just to get away and pretend like I wasn't a part of the fuck-all society I lived in. How could humans be so ignorant? We live in a world with this, I gestured expansively in my mind at the field around me, how can we not see how beautiful it is? How perfect it is? How imperfect we are by comparison?

[image description for excerpt two]

Xalia strode down the marble halls, the soft leather of her shoes meeting each tile with a cacophony of echoes. This was not the first, second, hundredth time that she had walked these passageways, and yet the chill she felt when contained within their depths never seemed to subside. The looming corridors and billowing curtains always seemed to hide sinister whispers that breathed down her neck and pricked at the tips of her ears. Perhaps it was the High Council, with their unnerving masks and owlish eyes, seeming to know and perceive all — or perhaps it was the knowledge that every time she stalked back towards the exit, she would carry the weight of another’s life on her shoulders, a life that she had to take.

[image description for excerpt three]

Vanna’s mother always tells them that grief is a sharp, biting thing; something that latches its teeth around your stomach until you double over with the weight of it. But for Vanna, that’s not quite right. There isn’t something hidden and tucked away behind the confines of their gut because there isn’t anything there at all. As they walk towards the town well — a spell book in one hand and emptiness in the other — they think that their mother got it wrong trying to describe grief in terms of presence. Grief, to them, can only be absence. The absence of light, the absence of a smile, and the absence of a palm which had curled so perfectly into theirs.

[another-fantasy-world]

🐍 Congratulations on so many followers!! I'm new here, but your blog looks so cool!! Could I get a small ship for Harry Potter please?

I'm really short, only like 4' 11" tall, with long wavy brown hair. My fashion sense consists of graphic t-shirts, patterned button-ups, jackets and funny socks. I'm a writer who both really loves science (especially biology and mortuary science) and the occult. My friends say I have "Dionysus Vibes" because I've got chaotic, mysterious, mad, decadent and powerful vibes. I really love monsters and fictional creatures.

Hope this is good enough, and again, congratulations!! Hope you're doing well babe

Snifnrkfmoemzkaks! Hi! Thank you so much!! Welcome to the Family, we're so glad to have you here! Enjoy your stay hun 😊💕

Ps. We're the same height, i might've grown at least an inch or two but we're more or less the same height

I ship you with...

Hermione Granger

- I believe you both met at a muggle school. Her last year at muggle school before she receives the letter.

- I also think that you're both good friends, not that close yet, but good friends.

- you're probably in a muggle school cause you begged your parents to let you study at a muggle school because you're just so curious with what they come up with, especially since you read about science on a book that you stole from your parent's library

- her seeing you in the train to hogwarts probably shook her core, surprised would be an understatement for you both

- immediately sticking together, helping Mione adjust to the wizarding world and her telling you some weird stuff about the muggle world

- you being absolutely stunned about her knowing so much. (this is one of the things that you love about her the most, her brain)

- as days go by, you and her would start to get closer and maybe develop some feelings

- she would absolutely confess her feelings through science. maybe spell some stuff using the table of elements or by using flower language.

- please respond back with a cool spell, she would absolutely be twinkle eyed

- she would really love braiding or styling your hair.

- she would also laugh at you when you try to tame that wild hair of hers and you both would spend hours just to make sure both your hair looks great.

- you probably would also figure out a spell to help her with that hair of hers.

- her teasing your short height and would often hold things out of your reach.

- "what's wrong love? need some help?" She would say as she levitates a book that you're interested in

- HER STEALING YOUR CLOTHES IS A MUST!!!

- if any of your clothes are missing? It's with her.

- "mione have you seen my-" you would say as you see her wearing the patterned button up that you were looking for

- she would now be handling 3 children since you have joined Harry and Ron's "stupid shenanigans" as she would call it

- would absolutely drag you by the ear

- she also would absolutely love your mysterious and powerful vibes

- she'd also adore your showcase of power whenever the situation demands it

- (which would be every time Harry gets involved in something or Malfoy- just Malfoy.)

- she'd also be a jealous type of person!!!

- since you also tend to attract a lot of attention, being friends with Potter AND being attractive and mysterious

- be sure to comfort her and reassure her, she is the brightest witch of her age, but she needs some lovin' and protecting too!

- study dates in the library is an absolute must.

- she would show you books about the creatures that live in the wizarding world. (Both of you geeking out about dragons which definitely helped Harry in the tournament)

- she would also buy you books of supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves, and myths that muggles made up such as greek gods and goddesses.

- spontaneous dates always happens with both of you, always in constant danger or the lack of time for yourselves (courtesy of one Ronald Weasley) it's the little things that count for both of you. (like her stitching back that favourite shirt of yours after it got damaged by one of Malfoy's assholery)

- all in all, you both would be such a power couple and nothing can stop you both.

- may the heavens bless whoever tries to separate you or hurt you, cause the other would be running head on.

come join my 200 follower celebration!!!

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FIVE: A SPECIAL DAY

Author’s note: Hello! We have finally reached the awaited date between Harry and Alma. I was really excited for this chapter, hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I did, forgive me in advance for any mistakes, my beta reader (my boyfriend) was unavailable, so this is a good time to say that if anyone out there has the time and willingness to beta read any future chapters send me an ask or message to let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.6K **

Harry wakes up feeling excited, nervous and hungry. He takes care of the latter, decides to make some blueberry pancakes, turns out he can't eat more than two and a cup of coffee. Not that the pancakes weren't great, in fact they were fantastic, he even decides to brag about them on an Instagram story that is published for his close friends only. Nick quickly replies to it with a laughing emoji.

You should take a Tupperware full of them to your date ;)

The reason behind his excitement and nerves make his heart race, he decides to type in a polite 'fuck off' to his mate before heading to the shower. Under the warm spray of water he tries to sort out his thoughts. Harry doesn’t want to think about his upcoming trip to California. 

It was necessary for the album or so he thought last week, after going through a box with the very few memories he kept from his ex. He wasn’t in a right state of mind then, he feels pathetic. The only reason why he wanted to spend time in Los Angeles was because everything there —from the pavement to the sky— was tainted by her. 

Why would he want to go back to that place where the constant reminder of his pain was literally living in the same neighbourhood? Because it would provide him the cathartic release he was looking for. That’s the line he used after Sarah and Mitch tried to dissuade him from flying across the Atlantic and Harry was so proud of himself when it worked. 

That very same day, he got the first text from Alma, it was the address like she promised. ‘In case one of your talents isn’t stumbling upon my work place ;)’ the second text read and Harry had to endure Sarah’s questionnaire about the girl that made him blush with a mere wink emoji. Not that he minded talking about her, he could go on all day.

He usually preferred a shower before breakfast, usually even work out before then but well, hunger clouded his judgement earlier today. Even with that taken care of that dread still niggled him away. Just slightly. So, he decided to pick up his guitar for a moment and strummed. There was no real intention to play seriously, or to write anything down on the journal by his desk. It was more of something he enjoys too much not to do it, a way to keep his hands and mind busy, faffing around with chords. With a bit of luck he might come up with a song, a tune which just worked, that just... clicked.

Contrary to what people might believe, genius didn't strike him here and then. Not like when he'd come up with Sign of the times or Two ghosts. But finding a neat little pattern of chords a good thirty minutes later makes him smile, it's something he can work with. It needs a little polishing from Mitch and company, sure, but it has a good rhythm. He scribbled down some notes on his journal and sent the audio to his fellow musician.

Maybe he will find the words in one of the old notebooks that are somewhere in the other room, perhaps on the ones that are still on his unpacked suitcase from Japan. Silently he also hoped to find the lyrics around London. He had lived in the capital for a few years now, but he had been different then. Now he likes to think that he's a man, no longer the teenager from the boy band or the shiny new solo artist. He has new perspectives, sights, smells in this new home of his. New ideas.

Harry gazes out his bedroom window; the view is not great –mostly of the other houses in the complex. His mind focused on the cloudy sky, confused because he swore it was sunny just a few minutes ago, can bet on his life that he woke up to dazzling sunshine rays of a warm yellow colour peeking through that same window. He puts his guitar away on the bed with care and makes a beeline to his wardrobe. He needs to figure out what to wear, pronto.

Skipping her afternoon kip was not something Alma did, it was a rare occurrence which meant one thing: something special was happening.

Walking down Oxford Street, trying to decide where to get some lunch without a care in the world, that was until the calmness faded, when her schedule for the day hit her.

She had a date with Harry. A date, with Harry Styles. It was weird to go by his full name in her head, she couldn't bring herself to call or think about him as The Harry Styles.

Maybe she'd settle to call him Harry the tube guy.

The clock on her phone showed that it was no longer single figure hours, she needed to get some food now or starve until her shift was over, and then he would have to watch her feast at whatever place he chose. Alma groaned, thought how ridiculous it was to worry about him watching her eat. Harry was a grown man; of course he knows that women eat too, right?

Walking into the nearest Sainsbury's she decided to take a deep breath. He's just some guy, she concluded after paying for her chicken baguette. Nothing to stress about.

Harry showered again, while belting out some classic pop tunes. Namely Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, something that in the past he'd swear blind you'd misheard and it was actually The Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. But he'd come to terms that he liked what he liked.

Towel clad in the bedroom, trying to shirk off hypothermia, he was quick to put on some pants and jeans, before throwing on some simple white tee proclaiming some fading band name. He uses a dry clean towel from the closet and attempts to dry his hair, as he styles his flopped mop the thought of a haircut crosses his mind. It was getting a bit long.

One last look at the clock and he is ready to leave. "You'll be fine. Trust me." He quietly speaks to himself before closing the last few buttons of his green parka and fixing the newsboy cap on his head.

When he walks out of Colindale tube station, a little earlier than half past five, he sees the bakery from her instructions just below the large modern building Alma was kind enough to describe. She was right; the bakery is right across the street, he waits for the green man to light up to cross, shoving his hands in his pockets. The huge front windows of the establishment allow Harry to see her behind the till, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. She looks better than she did three weeks ago. He hesitates about going in for a few minutes, but feels it ought to be better than to lurk on the street.

Alma can feel his presence the moment he sets foot into the shop, her eyes are drawn to him and a content close lipped smile is the best greeting he could ask from her. The only customer in the place can feel the shift in the atmosphere when they lock eyes. So, picking up her bag full of baked goods, she steps out and leaves them alone.

"Sorry if I'm too early." He begins while she takes off her apron and hangs it in the back wall.

"You're right on time," Alma says after checking her watch, "I'm off Carlos, see you tomorrow!" She hollers to the employee that is taking a non-allowed nap in the back. Harry holds the door open for her and follows out of the warm store. "Shall we take the tube?" At his affirmative response, she then takes out her Oyster card and leads the way.

The café was not somewhere Alma expected Harry to go, the little shop with soothing music and simple stools full of the scent of organic coffee brewing is dazzling and unique. A bit like him, she thinks. She liked it. It reminded her of the places she used to frequent when she had recently moved into the city.

Harry orders a black coffee at the counter before asking Alma what she'd like.

"A cappuccino, and remember I'm paying for our food," she hands him a tenner that he reluctantly takes from her.

"Absolutely," he iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds two salted caramel cupcakes handing over the cash. "If you get a seat, I'll bring it over."

Alma thanks him before scampering across the room to sit at the back two seat table tucked in the corner. It was right beside the large back window, dimly lit. Before she sat, she removed her signature burgundy coat and Harry couldn't help his eyes being drawn to certain aspects of his companion. Nice arse, he remarked with a raise of his brows before the woman behind the counter tells him for the third time that his order is ready, a look of disdain as she probably caught his gaze. Giving her a sheepish smile to appease her, he manages to balance the two plates and mugs in his hands and walk over to the table.

"They asked if you wanted whipped cream or foam and I settled for foam, hope that's not a problem." He plonks himself on the seat across from her, removing his parka in a clumsy manner before hanging it in the back of the chair.

"No problem, I actually despise–

"Whipped cream, yeah, I kind of remembered what you told me about that birthday party of yours," the green eyed lad finishes for her and scratches the back of his neck. "You know with that dare..."

Her eyes flickered down to the cupcakes laid out before them and she started picking the caramel out of one, hoping to hide the nerves his words caused.

"Right enough, yeah... I can't believe you remembered that or that I told you about it." She chuckled nervously at the anecdote she chose to share with him, it was a bit inappropriate due to the amount of vomit around it, literally. But he shrugged with a charming smile. No big deal. "Nice place," she noted.

"I know it's a bit of a strange choice. It doesn't strike me as, you know, the kind of place you put so much effort into for a first date..." Harry stops talking and now his eyes meet the cupcake in front of him. "Bollocks I must have sounded so daft, I'm sorry." Lucky for him, she doesn't laugh, instead she reaches out to stroke his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I can be quite daft so..."

"I doubt that Miss suave." He gets a laugh out of her then, one that is almost a snort and earns a few glances from other customers.

"I’m far from it! Honestly, I once accidentally stepped on dog shit and didn't notice until my date couldn't bear the stink anymore and checked my shoe, in a very fancy restaurant. Terrible story. Trust me, I can be daft." Alma held up her hands and the musician giggled at her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he raised an eyebrow at her, pleading. She promised. "Well, I kind of always wanted to have a first date here. It's always one of the first places I visit when I'm back in London, the food is amazing, and service is excellent. Came here completely hung-over after my twenty-first birthday party. I guess it has a lot of good memories." Pinked cheeks gave away Harry's embarrassment, he wanted to relax and for her to be more comfortable around him.

With a sincere smile Alma placed her hand over his resting on the table. "I think that is very sweet." This reply was not what he had expected; she leant in and beckoned him closer. "For your information Harry, this is exactly a great place for a first date." Up close he swore the darkness of her eyes were about to swallow him whole and spit him out to an alternate universe. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee to distract himself a bit. Perhaps caffeine was not a good choice on a day where his heart was speeding so frequently.

"Did you have a good day today at work?" he asks with a familiarity that Alma can get used to.

"Yeah, had a bit of free time to plan my next video blog. It's been ages since I uploaded one." She bashfully admits. "This cupcake was delicious, a great flavour choice." And just like that they fall into easy conversation until their cups are drained. The place is almost empty around quarter to eight and they both know it's almost closing time –the death glances from the employees behind the counter gave it away. They put on their garments again before leaving.

Harry makes his way to the door expecting Alma to follow. Instead she first gathered up their mugs and plates, to place them neatly on the counter and thanked the three workers behind it with a genuine smile. Harry looked surprised; she didn't quite have to do that. She noticed.

"Just being polite," she stated the obvious, before walking under his arm that held open the door. He chose not to comment and fought back a smile.

They stood outside, not really sure of what to do next. Usually he would suggest going back to his place. It was near, but he watched her yawn discreetly and he suddenly remembered that she had a real job, well actually jobs in plural. He broke the silence.

"It was nice to see you again Alma." He meant it and she smiled as she toyed with the buttons of her coat. British summer weather was hardly cold, but today it seemed to be punishingly windy. Harry near gave a shiver, but instead took a deep breath before speaking again. It was now or never. "It'd be quite great, if I could... I'd like to see you again. Please." He shifted on one foot, nearly drowned in the silence that followed.

"I'd quite love to see you again," Harry gave a slight gulp, very slight and got out strength from the words she spoke to take a big risk, the first of today.

He stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands before leaning down and kissing her cheek. It wasn't the full on kiss he wanted to give her. But it is something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her today, something he hoped would make clear how attracted he was to her. Harry smelled like coffee and caramel. God this man's lips are prettier up close, she thought right before he straightened up.

She stayed close to him before speaking again. A low murmur so that the passing London traffic wouldn't steal her words from him.

"This was an amazing date."

Alma walked with him the long distance of one mile to the tube station, their hands brushing against each other. He was desperate to just hold hers, kiss her soft knuckles and ask about the lightning-shaped scar on her little finger. But decided against it, he knew that West Hampstead was not a common area for paparazzi, but he didn't want to risk her. Especially after the splendid afternoon they just shared.

They said their farewells.

"I'll call you," he said again. She warned that he better, before entering the station, he took great delight in watching her walk away from him, his gaze falling once more to her bum now covered by the coat. Harry spun on his heel and walked the short distance to his home.

Surely London could help him find the lyrics for that tune, this city definitely had something.

///

Let me know if you like the story! *** Join the taglist!

///

TAG LIST: @laurxn-robinson​ @mellamolayla​ 

[reikaidetective]

I noticed you're doing ships (match up) so I'd like a match up please if you may. Male Yu Yu Hakusho Character.

She/Her, name is Lina.

Personality: Usually quiet, enigma, calm expression (to hide my shyness) But can be really energetic with people I'm close too. Wise (when I was 14), cool, only losing it if the people I cared were in trouble (like if they're insulted in my front) Understanding people, never push them to tell what's wrong with them and just will be in their side (I will stay although they'll pushed me away unless they really need a privacy). Curious at everything, always polite even through to people I hate (unless they hit my nerves since I'm rare to be angry), always giving my best at everything

Likes: flowers, reading, just chilling, enjoying life, red roses, trying new things

Dislikes: people who skip school (like why enrolling at school when gonna skip? Unless they have a good reason), Disrespectful people (especially to those who doesn't respect elders, unless those elders are evil), girls who only like popular boys, people who dare to touch those I cared about, arguments (I found them pointless like it can just be talked carefully tbh)

(for match up, I don't want characters like Kuwabara, Karasu)

I hope this is enough for you !

. . . . ╱╱ ︵ . . Ship ( match up ) for @everlasting-endearments ❜

꒰꒰  ❛ ❏ I'd match you up with Kurama. If you'd like to know why, keep reading.

I'm sorry it took so long. I tried figuring out how to word this right. I want you to see where I'm coming from with my idea of who I'd match you up with just in case you don't see it. ¡!~ ⌒⌒

Enigma is what struck out to me. Someone with this personality trait would seem interesting to someone like Kurama. A mysterious person is similar to a puzzle so I'd like to believe the more the two of you hang out the more he's able to understand you.

Kurama is someone who'd interact with someone who has a calm expression, or shyness. Since you calm expression is hiding the fact you're shy, I feel like he'd eventually catch on, but when he finds out, he doesn't pry. Please note, I'm not saying he'd figure it out as soon as he spoke to you, he'd probably pick up on your body language, mannerisms, patterns in your speak etc.

I'd avoid saying this; however, I think in this case it fits, I see you attending the same high school as him. Now, hear me out, out of everyone, I think he'd be the most fit to meet you first. If we go off of your dislikes, we can conclude you'd hate, dislike or be annoyed with Yusuke for skipping school and being disrespectful to his elders, aka Genkai. You didn't want someone like Kuwabara as a match which gives me the idea you don't like him like that or as a friend. I see you being friends with Hiei more than lovers.

Since you stated you were wise at the age of 14, I believe you'd be in the top 3 at Meiou senior high school, unfortunately behind Kaito. I see you getting along with Kaito as well, because you give off similar energy. You both seem firm with your views; him, liking intelligent conversation; you, dislike those who skip school and disrespecting their elders. Anyway, I think being wise could be used to your advantage to steer Kurama off from figuring you out, especially about being shy.

As for your likes, you'd have a lot in common with Kurama. With your likeness of flowers, it would be easy for him to give you some, especially rare ones. The two of you could sit around in each other's company reading for relaxation. As for trying new things, he could teach you about herbs, gardening, plants etc. It's not limited to those grown in human world, they could be ones that grow in Makai as well.

[missroserose]

Strength, the tower, and/or the sun for the tarot asks! Please and thank you! (I'm super curious to see what your tarot cards look like)

All right!  I *may* have gotten a little carried away with this project, but let’s see if Tumblr lets me do everything I want to here...

Strength:  What is your dream occupation?

Deck:  The Starman Tarot, by Davide De Angelis, inspired by his art for David Bowie

UPRIGHT: Strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion

REVERSED: Inner strength, self-doubt, low energy, raw emotion

You know, I’ll be honest with you—I’ve never really known how to answer this question.  Which isn’t to say that I haven’t had ideas—even as a kid, I was overflowing with things I wanted to do.  But, in the perverse way of kids who display natural aptitude for a number of fields (and a burning interest in many more), I rarely stuck with any one thing long enough to get truly good at it—I’d hit the point where my natural abilities ran out and I had to actually start working hard, and something else that seemed easier would come along and steal my attention away.  As an adult, I’ve gotten better about discipline, but these days it’s more a question of time—there are so many things I want to do, and likely most of them won’t come to fruition.  I’ve genuinely enjoyed being a massage therapist, that’s catered to a lot of my strengths, though thanks to life’s twists and turns my future in the field is somewhat in question.  I love performing (as an actor and as a musician), but I don’t love the financial instability or rampant exploitation in the field.  I love writing, but dislike how solitary a profession it is (plus the financial instability thing).  And so on and so forth.

After a lot of thought and a lot of experiences ranging from affirming to terrible, I’ve discovered that what really makes me happiest is connecting with and inspiring people—I guess I’m just a bard at heart.  If I could find some way to do that that also came with a regular salary and paid vacation days and a flexible schedule?  That’d be a hell of a thing.

The Tower:  Favorite colors to wear?

Deck:  Welcome to Night Vale Tarot Card Deck, by @bonesnail (Jay H. Holloway)

UPRIGHT: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening

REVERSED: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster

Largely this depends on what color my hair is at the moment—different palettes fit with different hair colors.  But usually I stay in the red-pink-purple-blue spectrum; yellow and green tend to make me look washed out or sickly, respectively.

If I can nerd out about the card choice for a moment—the scene pictured is from relatively early in the series, when Telly the Barber (who has committed the unforgivable sin of cutting Carlos the Scientist’s perfect hair) is banished to the Sand Wastes, at one point spotted attempting to give a cactus a haircut.  Holloway says in their post about this card that this is a fairly loose association, since they see the Tower card as being about pride going before a fall.  I actually particularly like this choice, because to me, The Tower has always spoken to the concept of our mental paradigms—the logical constructs that we literally build, brick by brick, conclusion by conclusion, in order to make sense of the world.  Obviously these are helpful and necessary, but without regular examination and maintenance they can become confining, even harmful if we get trapped in them (”stuck in our ivory towers, as it were); Telly’s curse feels very much to me like someone who’s grown so trapped in seeing the world a particular way that they’ve become disconnected from reality.

The Sun:  Do you believe in magic?

Deck:  The Weird Cat Tarot, by Gabrielle Kash

UPRIGHT: Positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality

REVERSED: Inner child, feeling down, overly optimistic

Well, in classic me-fashion, I’m going to take both answers: yes and no.  Do I believe that there are forces that humanity can’t yet explain and are beyond our current understanding?  Absolutely.  Do I believe that some people can learn, on an intuitive level, to tap into these forces and utilize them to affect the world around them?  I do, although I’m wary of anybody who claims to be able to do so regularly, because I’m also extremely aware that humans are very good at recognizing patterns and cause-and-effect, to the point where we will often see it when it’s not there.  Do I believe that these forces are unknowable?  Absolutely not, at least not permanently—just because we haven’t gotten there yet doesn’t mean we won’t figure it out eventually.  Which is why I’m also extremely wary of anybody who claims to have secret knowledge that they can’t share—the whole point of knowledge is to share it, and test it, and use it to continue building our collective understanding.

send me a tarot ask!

[blackasmidnightcats]

Book 1 Nostalgia

WARNING: This post will have spoilers to the SGE series

The first book in any series will always hold a special place in anyone's heart I think. There is just something beautiful, whether the writing was phenomenal or lacking, about the introduction to a new world and the characters that you're going to know. After reading further into the series, sometimes you just wanna go back to the start, where everything was a lot simpler.

SGE kinda falls into this feeling for me.

I don't think I'm ever going to get over the interactions between the characters (and we haven't even explored most of them) because, personally, Soman is incredibly good with how he does character intercations but the story and plot have a lot to improve on.

And now comparing TSY with TCY it's very glaring.

Soman really has a problem with his plot so much so than with his storyline. It's very repetitive and the storyline suffers from it.

After Book 1, every plot seemed to be the same case; Sophie is an important piece to the main villain, Agatha tries to fix everything, Tedros is getting more crap than needed, annoyingly unhealthy romantic relationships are explored, and the other characters do things.

The last of these examples are really the only things that varies. Everything else is almost always the same in one way or another.

The first book doesn't really follow that pattern. It's a introductory book and I wish Soman did the same vibe as it in QfG.

Though Book 1 wasn't perfect. My biggest main problem with it was how Soman handled Agatha's development from thinking herself a freak and realizing that she was just a beautiful as anyone else (and Tagatha, of course. They had a very unconvincing start) compared to the detailed and precise handling of Sophie's decent and eventual acceptance her wickedness.

I said it once and I'll say it again: I miss vengeful, spited Sophie. Who made the School for Good suffer because Tedros didn't keep his promise and her very impressive Talent to summon Evil creatures at will to do her bidding.

This was the Sophie that I expected more from in the later books but might never get again. With the way that the OTK cover portrays her as the Lion, whether that would be a thing or not, it's clear that Soman wants the readers to look at Sophie in a better light and not as the anti-hero that she is but I could be wrong.

In Book 1, Sophie was incredibly selfish to the point that she wouldn't do anything for others even those that she should care about (i.e. Tedros in the Trial) and in the end, she had to pay for the selfishness by seeing just how Evil she could become and be seen as the witch that she was. Her development from Pink Princess to Witch of Woods Beyond was believable; her ambitiousness combined with her selfishness was what made her gain everything through manipulation and wickedness but it couldn't be hidden for long. Once everyone, including herself, saw what lied underneath her exterior, she lost everything and because of the things that she chooses to do, she naturally hurt and attacked the people that wronged her just as Evil does.

It was caused by a failed romantic pursuit, yes, but unlike the other later romantic relations that she had, the one in Book 1 focused more on the outcome for her character development than in the relationship itself. Honestly her relationships with Rafal, and Rhian, and maybe now Japeth, idk, make absolutely no sense with the importance that the story puts on it because these relationships didn't help further Sophie's character development. It stunted her really.

Now compare this to Agatha.

I think everyone and their cats agree that we all miss witchy Agatha in book 1 and I hope we write more of her in our fanfics like that since Soman won't do it. The thing is, with Agatha, unlike Sophie, whether she is written as a straight-up hero or as a sort of anti-villain with her portrayal as the Snake in the OTK cover, it won't be that far fetched. I don't know if Soman intended this or not but it's pretty frickin impressive with how he managed to make Agatha a pretty versatile character.

Book 1 did not to good with how she went from Graveyard Girl to Fairy Tale Princess. At most, we saw her heroic characteristics but Soman didn't put much effort with making it believable and we were left to our own imaginations with how she could have believably developed and grown into herself. It should have taken more than one chapter to make us believe that Agatha suddenly grew confident with herself and her own brand of beauty and how her relationship with Tedros should have started.

But because of the fact that she's now comfortable as both being a little different and unique in her own way but is still guided by the values of Good and holds it dear to her soul as well as her loyalty to those she loves, she can do great with the best of both worlds.

Agatha hasn't stopped growing since book 1 and I think that reason for that is because Soman knows that he has to square up whenever he writes her. Whether she's developing on her own or with others, she's always learning new values and finding ways to express them in the way that she's comfortable with.

Soman does express that he loves writing in Sophie's POV the most, but it can be a double edged sword if not careful. And I think Soman hasn't been careful.

Now back to the glory of Book 1.

Book one had the most simplest plot and most fluent storyline than in any other book. Even TLEA.

I think I could recall a lot more events in Book 1 than in the more recent ones because there was a lot more events and chapters that were actually necessary to the plot.

So, to go by statistics;

TLEA has the most recorded chapters in the series as of current before the release of OTK with 35 chapters and 3 parts to divide it.

It's followed by Book 1 with 30 chapters.

Then QfG is next with 28 chapters divided into 2 parts.

And aCoT follows with 27 chapters and 2 parts as well.

Last is AWWP with 24 chapters divided into 2 parts as well.

If going by this then OTK should either have a chapter or two more or less than TLEA but not less so than Book 1 because it's going to now be the official last book of the the series.

But that is besides the point. My main problem with the books' storytelling after Book 1 is how disoriented it has become.

Let me make an example with QfG and aCoT. These books are more or less very similar with each other in the number of chapters with only one being the difference while the start of the the "Part 2" portion was a bit different with QfG's starting at chapter 21 while aCoT's started with chapter 17.

But the reception and the fluency of these two books could not be more different from each other.

To say that QfG completely destroyed the fandom is an understatement. I can't tell of aCoT managed to regain the series's former glory for long enough to not let OTK flop but let's be hopeful.

Anyways, the fluency of the storytelling with TCY was wack and QfG and aCoT completely show that.

WARNING: Spoilers about QfG and aCoT will be discussed in this section.

I could not remember almost 70% of QfG because of how much I hated the plot and looking back at the chapters, I honestly could not believe that the asshat Rhian was only introduced on Chapter 21. Everything after Chaddick's POV chapter seemed to be a blur and Rhian's b*tch ass seemed to have corrupted the whole experience.

8 chapters. He was only in QfG for 8 chapters and yet it feels almost like he's been in it for more than half. Frick. He is traumatizing.

Basically, the middle part of the book, namely chapters 7 to 20, was all about the main cast trying to frickin understand wtf was happening. Agatha and Sophie were trying to figure out the Lion and the Snake thing while Tedros was back in Camelot doing (or failing or being sabotaged with) politics and also trying to understand why tf was Excalibur having a tantrum.

Then Rhian entered and I don't know why or how Nottingham and Robin Hood got involved but he did.

And then more figuring out stuff and sabotaging Tedros and then Rhian and Excalibur and then cliffhanger.

It was all very abrupt and confusing. More confusion was added all because there were more questions asked than actual answers and a sense of depression was felt in the end because nothing was really achieved.

Imma compare this with Book 1 later but first Book 5 comparison.

Now aCoT. It was just the storyline that we needed to get back to the hype that the series had. Was it a satisfying read? Yes but was it able to heal the pain that QfG inflicted? No.

The fandom did not come back the same again.

But anyways, aCoT, personally, had a lot more scenes and events that I remembered than in any other book besides book 1 but that there was the problem with this book.

Too many things happened with this book. So much so that the fluency of the story was sacrificed to tell it.

Look at it this way, several shifts in the book happened.

This all happened in Part 1 only;

Rhian became King and his regime was sort of explained.

Agatha was introduced to the First Years and got her Army.

Sophie was in some sort of GOT-esque knock off experience as Rhian's Captive Queen.

Agatha manages to save some of her friends.

The concept of OTK was explained.

Tedros's execution was on way.

Nevermind, Agatha and her army just straight-up hijacked it.

Prof. Dovey died as a sacrifice.

Okay, now to Part 2;

Reaper is a Gnome King.

The Crystal of Time was finally explained.

They finally find out about Rhian and Japeth's origins.

The Gnomes were ambushed and I feel sorry for them.

Sophie tipped Rhian off with the location because she believed that she would end it all.

We kinda get background with why Rhian wants to be OTK????

Rhian DIES?!?!?! and now Japeth's King ☠

They sort of manage to know about wtf happened with the Lady and Japeth

Tedros and Arthur have a heart to heart and he gets the Ring of Power.

Cliffhanger

It's a lot to take in and I don't really think that Soman should have cramped it all in one book.

Some of the plot points should have been in QfG so that it wouldn't be as depressing.

The whole of Part one was a book in itself and Part 2 was one as well.

At some points of the book, I sometimes got the feeling that it was gonna be the end but it just kept going and going and now I don't really know what's left with OTK. It can be both a good thing or a horrible thing.

Let's see wtf happens. I expect more action than drama Soman.

So again with Book 1.

Book 1 was a classic and the ideas easily hooked anyone interested.

It had the same unaswered questions with QfG but why did it suceed when QfG didn't.

First, is that Book 1 had its atmosphere clear from the start of the book. It was clear that the main thing that needed to happen was that Sophie and Agatha needed to realize the actual nature of their souls. There were more technical questions that needed to be answered but the main point that needed to be addressed was addressed by the end of the book.

And also the ending was also a cliffhanger but it a much lighter note.

Sophie and Agatha realized their capabilities and understood themselves but they still chose each other in the end and that sort of gave way to a much hopeful future for the two of them. (At that time, at least)

All the while, QfG was one depressing ball of events that led to one horrible moment to the other.

It was just sad.

And so I kinda go back to Book 1 from time to time to refresh myself with why I started this series to begin with and I'm always reminded with the possibilities and the explorations about good and evil and the complex duality of differences and parallels that so many things that Sophie and Agatha sort of beautifully personify.

I love reading the very first chapter of Book 1 because it so beautifully captured Sophie and Agatha and their complex relationship that I've always wanted to read in other books.

I always loved reading Sophie's amusing thought process and the reason why she does everything that she does; she does it because she believes that she deserves more and she'll everything to get it.

I also loved how Agatha was such a character that I've always wanted to read about. She's spunky and shy and lonely and reflective and despite everyone shunning her, she could still see the good and find it in herself to help them. She was simply wonderful.

I'm thankful that I found this series and I hope that a lot more books can talk about the philosophies and concepts that this book has managed to introduce. And despite all of its set-backs and nonsense, I would still recommend this as a read but to that they should also think about what they've read and maybe talk about what they've found interesting with it.

[nihilnovisubsole]

My fashion queen, incredibly important question: How would one go about figuring out fashion *style* for characters? I've noticed your OCs always have a Look(TM), and I've gathered from your blog (and fics) that you've got an eye for aestethics - please, could you give me advice at least where to *start*. I'm completely unaware of fashion and, frankly, completely overwhelmed at the prospect of just starting..

Ah! Previous Anon again - forgot to add a more specific question about fashion (I’m squeezing in 2 quesiton in one xD). Do you have fashion advice for sleek/distant female character’s clothing that doesn’t hinge on formal dresses? (as is discernable, I have literally NO idea what a Grown Ass, Self Respecting Woman would wear)

wow. that’s high praise. when i got this yesterday morning, i knew i wanted to give it the answer it deserved. this is over 1500 words long, so apologies to anyone on mobile, but i wasn’t letting go until i’d really sunk my teeth into it.

unfortunately, since you’re anon, i don’t know enough about your character to suggest anything specific. instead, i want to take a step back and see if we can solve the root of the problem - “where do i start?”

when i was a teenager, an english teacher told me this: “the biggest constraint in writing is no constraint at all.” when you have the whole spectrum of something - in this case, clothes - to pick from, it is overwhelming. the natural human instinct is to freeze up. so while it may sound strange, if you’re just starting out, you might feel better if you have some constraints to work within.

with that in mind, you can treat finding a ‘signature look’ for your character like solving a murder mystery. you eliminate all the suspects that don’t fit until you know enough to narrow it down to the one that does. that’s going to involve something else you’ll recognize from murder mysteries: you’re going to have to interrogate the character. open them up and get to know them - their background, their likes and dislikes, their quirks, the role they play in the world around them. every answer will give you clues and weed other things out, and eventually, you’ll get a box small enough that you feel comfortable working in it.

now, i love fashion, and i love using clothes to send messages about a character’s personality. so as someone who’s had that interest for my whole life, i work from the other end. the constraints happen, in large part, without me thinking about them. i tend to zoom right to a certain aesthetic or item of clothing, say, “okay, what outfit can i build with this,” and go from there. but since you’ve said you’re “unaware” of fashion and it’s intimidating to you, i’ll try to ease you in through a different route and see whether that helps.

so, if we’re going to pick your character apart, let’s think about some practical questions first:

what setting does your character live in?

if you’ve narrowed your setting down to a historical decade, you’ll find most of the style questions already - firmly! - answered for you. for example, a victorian woman would, by default, wear skirts. if the character is contemporary, you’ve got a lot more wiggle room. if you want to mess with historical fashion rules for symbolic or story purposes, awesome, but i think that’s probably more advanced than you’re looking for right now.

if the setting is fantasy or sci-fi, what’s its dominant aesthetic? is it cyberpunk? sleek ~apple~ sci-fi? or is it more like star wars? is it medieval fantasy? woodsy faerie fantasy? JRPG-style fantasy? you get the idea.

what does your character do?

speaks for itself. what’s their job?

what is your character like, just in general?

this is where everything you know about their personality goes. if they’re a fussy courtier who’s worried about their reputation and appearance, they’re probably not going to be comfortable in plain, casual clothes.

what can your character afford to wear?

again, speaks for itself. do they buy designer brands? are they trying their best with what they have? or are they super strapped for cash and just have to get the job done?

does their social scene have an easily-identifiable aesthetic that you could work with?

does your character wear urban/street fashion or preppy rich-kid clothes? are they part of a subculture that dresses in a certain way, like teddy boys? do they have the desire or freedom to go all-in with that style, or do they have to play it down, like being corporate goth?

do they need to wear something they could travel, do hard work, or fight in?

goes with the job question above. do they need some kind of outerwear or accessory where they can hide weapons? do they always need to be ready, or is it situational?

basically, where does the character’s aesthetic need to sit on a chart of form vs. function?

what do other characters who are similar to your character wear?

look at your favorite movies, games, and TV shows and see what professional designers are doing with characters like yours. what colors and cuts are they using? what other elements do they choose? do you like them? if you don’t like them, what would you change? sometimes you can learn more from what you hate than what you love.

hopefully, you’ve already culled a huge swath of fashion ideas that you Know You’re Not Going To Do. you may still not know what you do want to do, either! that’s fine. let’s move onto some more artsy questions:

are there any colors your character would prefer or avoid?

it sounds silly. it’s not. a limited color palette will go a long way toward making a character’s outfits look unified and purposeful. obviously, in real life, most people don’t restrict themselves as much as fictional characters do. but if you were a costume designer, you’d want to have some guideposts to work with.

are there any motifs you associate with your character?

animals, elements, religious or cultural symbols, plants - you can sneak all these into their clothes’ details. maybe their dress has beading in the shape of a peacock, or rose earrings, or icy sparkles, or a bear pelt for a cloak.

have fun with meanings! moon motifs for mysteriousness, poisonous flowers, etc. let your inner lit major out.

do you want your character to have a certain silhouette?

this may seem odd if you’re just going to be writing your character and not drawing them, but think about it anyway. do you want to emphasize that your character is tall? is everything they wear skintight? do they have a large, unique hat?

a great example of this is maleficent. not only does she have a horn-shaped headdress, her huge, flowing robe tells us there’s a much bigger power in her than her body would suggest.

is there a certain ethos you want their clothes to project? what, in their world, would do that? what in our world would do that?

let’s say you want your character to look very powerful, to the point where people would find their looks alone intimidating. should they wear sharp, simple, severe clothes, maybe in dark colors? or should they wear very embellished clothes, like royalty? what are your setting’s ideas about beauty? modesty? does your character play by the rules, or do you want them to stand out?

what colors, shapes, and styles appeal to you personally?

for all the time i’ve spent talking about restrictions and guidelines, it’s important not to lose the fun of it, either. use your favorite color! give them clothes you’d want to wear in real life! character style is a playground where you can let wish fulfillment run wild.

at any time, feel free to turn to google or wikipedia if you’re not sure how to answer one of these questions. if you see an interesting idea, pick it up and follow it - what you’re doing here is training your eye, and that’s how you’ll learn. that said, if you’re already intimidated, i wouldn’t dive too deep into couture/aesthetic blogs until i had a more solid grip on how i wanted the character to look. it comes back to what i said earlier - there is such a thing as too much to choose from, especially when you’re not sure what you should be looking for yet.

there’s one other thing i want to mention that can help bring a character’s wardrobe together: repetition. if you’re planning several outfits for a character instead of just one, echo some of the motifs, shapes, or colors from one to the next. they don’t all have to be identical takes on the same thing, but if they have certain traits in common, they’ll feel less like separate outfits and more like a matched set. they could all be in members of the same color family or have similar patterns on them. maybe your character has a certain accessory that they wear with everything. you get the idea.

while i may not be able to plan your character’s wardrobe outright, i hope this makes the whole process seem more straightforward. or that it gives you some ideas to work with, or any other kind of help you might take away from it. this post is getting unfathomably long, so i’ll wrap it up, but i’d be happy to put any of my own characters through a “question test” like this one if you’d like to see how it works in practice.

finally, if you can find an interview with an artist or costume designer who worked on something you like, those things are worth their weight in gold. i read an interview with colleen atwood when i was in middle school, and it revolutionized the way i thought about fashion and storytelling. and when i say “revolutionized,” i mean “i owe basically everything i just told you to that article.” dig into them and see how they think and talk about their art! they’re more qualified to teach you than i ever will be.

[getitinbusan]

Night at the Museum

It was finally here, the first Monday in May, The MET Gala had been on your calendar for months. It was a closely kept secret that that the boys would be attending together as BTS to the CAMP themed event. You were allowed to come along as part of their special entourage but it had stipulations. When Jungkook first asked you about going with him you didn't think it was a good idea. It would be awkward to watch your boyfriend interacting with everyone while you had to stand in the background and watch. You hated pretending to be staff, not getting to actually be with him, truth be told it really hurt that he could ignore you so easily at these things. You didn't see the point of watching beautiful celebrities throw themselves at your boyfriend while you could do nothing but pretend it didn't bother you. There was also one other thing that raised a red flag in the back of your mind, this years host was Harry.

You'd dated Harry Styles for the better part of a year as his One Direction days were coming to a close. You'd joined 1D on tour as an assistant chef for Sarah's Kitchen making sure they were always fed. He was charming, good looking a complete flirt, you had been instantly smitten. You travelled the world with him, spending your nights in his bed, but never getting to publicly be "Harry's Girl", it was just the rule of boy bands. Things were great until everything in the 1D universe unravelled. They had decided it was time to call it a day and nobody could quite figure out what to do with themselves. Harry took a break and went back home, you went with him for a while but you both wanted more. He needed to discover himself, write and record his own album, but he needed to let go of everything to do it. You understood, you loved him and wanted him to be happy outside of the bubble he'd been in for years. You had left each other, open ended, maybe one day you would find each other again. You turned to growing your career and started your own on the road catering company.

Here you were, the same situation repeating with Jungkook. You really hadn't thought about the pattern until that damn invitation showed up. You absolutely loved him, just not the lifestyle of pretending you weren't together. He could always talk his way into getting you on his travel team. Management knew about your relationship, buy they weren't happy and made sure you both knew what the fallout would be if the fans found out. It was hard. So when he received the Gala invite your heart sank in your chest. You'd grown up with Vogue as your guide to life, it was every girls dream to be a part of that fashionable world. Now it was just another thing that you couldn't really share with your boyfriend.

"Baby you are going to come right?" He asked with his arms around you. "Guk, I don't think its a good idea" you made every excuse you could think of knowing that being in that room would break your heart in pieces. The ache of seeing Harry again would only be compounded by being treated as stranger by Jungkook. Tears fell down your cheek and Jungkook kissed them away. "Please don't cry Y/N. I'll buy you the prettiest dress and I promise after its over we can spend all night drinking champagne and dancing in our hotel room, just us. I know its hard but its all I can offer right now." Not wanting to disappoint him you agreed to go.

Standing in your room at the plaza you couldn't take your eyes off your boyfriend. Here he was before you, a vision in Gucci, he looked ethereal. You watched on in track pants and his oversize t shirt feeling a little inferior as the stylists worked around him. There was that sinking feeling creeping up again. You dropped your head and pretended to play on your phone, you would never be good enough for him. Like he sensed your eyes not on him anymore he asked "Are you ready for your surprise baby?" He motioned for the stylist to begin getting you ready. She went into the closet and brought out the most beautiful Vivienne Westwood gown you'd ever seen. "She's your favorite right?" You ran to embrace him and speckled his face with grateful kisses. "I have to leave early for the red carpet but I can't wait to see you in this tonight. I love you"

When you got to the car with the PR team you turned on the arrivals live stream from your phone watching all the amazing outfits and celebrities walk the carpet. The crowd roared suddenly and you knew why, everywhere they went cheers followed. Exiting the car one by one, each of them looked stunning. They gave waves and smiles posing for the photographers and stopping for the entertainment show interviews. You were so proud of them, they truly deserved their success. The hard work and dedication that they put into their career was like nothing you've ever seen. It was just a sad fact that their personal lives suffered for it.

You were guided out of the car to one of the back park entrances. You would be free to wander the galleries with the guests but you were not invited to the dinner or ball. You'd been to the MET once before and you could easily spend hours taking it all in, the beauty of the building alone was as noteworthy as the pieces. You moved from room to room generally not paying attention to who was around you, your mind frequently imagining what Jungkook would think of certain works. Moving to the Contemporary Art Wing you saw them, surrounded by beautiful women all wanting to be seen with them. You weren't even a blip on his radar, you may as well be back at the hotel, he'd never even know. The door to the deck overlooking Central Park was right there so you decided to go outside instead of torturing yourself by watching them.

Staring up at the night sky you were lost in your thoughts when a soft voice brought you back to the present. "Of all the places in the world I could have run into you, I never would have imagined it to be here." His voice was unmistakable. "You look amazing, I've caught glimpses of you all night and tried to follow you but you kept getting away" god that accent made you melt. You turned to face him, smiling "What are the chances we're both here and we're both wearing Westwood? I've missed you Harry" you said, sure that the somber tone in your voice gave you away. "Why are you alone out here when you look this stunning? Every man in this place should want you on their arm tonight." He lifted your chin to look at him and you couldn't hold in the tears any longer. "I'm so sad Harry, why do I keep falling for men I can't really be with?" He brushed your cheek with his thumb, "Its not easy from the other side either you know. I couldn't keep track of how many times I wanted to do things with you and show you special new places, it wasn't only hard on you." He kissed your forehead and stood looking out at the skyline. You knew he couldn't stay long, people would be waiting for him but this moment was enough. You'd always have a special place in your heart for him but times had changed and you truly loved Jungkook.

The glass door opened and your boyfriend stood staring at you. Harry picked up your hand, and kissing it he said, "until we meet again" On the way out he shook Jungkook's hand. "She's an amazing girl, make sure you make her a priority. She deserves better than to be left waiting in the wings, she deserves to be seen" and on that advice he left. Jungkook walked over to you "I can see the tear stains on your face Y/N, I know how sad I make you but please don't think you aren't important to me. You may not have noticed but my eyes have been on you and only you all night. When I first saw you looking at the Degas I had to catch my breath, you look more stunning than any of the pieces in this museum. I hated that I couldn't stand there with you, I just wanted to be beside you holding your hand. When you cried seeing your favorite Monet I wanted to run to you and hold you. When I saw your ex consoling you I hated that someone could have gotten the impression that you were his. I want everyone to know you're mine, i want to show you off proudly" You were dumbfounded, although he hadn't been by your side he had actually been with you the whole time. He leaned into you, resting his cheek on the top of your head "I don't care what everyone has to say, I don't care what's best for my career, I care about us. I can't keep pretending you mean nothing to me, it hurts us both too much. Everyone needs to know that we are together and that I have an amazing girlfriend" He picked up your hands and wrapped them around his neck placing his on your waist " I want to dance with my girlfriend overlooking Central Park and I don't care who sees."

[sl-walker]

I only hesitate because I'm not super familiar with your AUs yet! Sometime I really will read All of It, I just don't know where to start!! Anyway, um, that said ... is Savage in any of them? Because I'd like to see two of him and Savage: gift exchange and baking Christmas cookies. Probably Savage is baking them and Maul is helping, for whatever value of "help" inspires you, LOL

I always recommend Witness me first because it’s sort of my ‘prime’ verse, and really, you can read it in order.  If you prefer lighter fare, sort of fluffy and sweet you can also read Taking Flight in order.  ( @shadowmaat and @doorsclosingslowly are also authors in that series.)  And while GoT:A doesn’t have nearly the audience, it’s pretty dear to my heart because I love how comparatively stable and such that he is in that one.  It’s more scattered, but it’s here.  Really, though, if you’re serious about wanting to read, just start at the beginning of Witness me and see where the mood takes you. XD

That being said, in the future after Gambit, Savage is around in Taking Flight (there’s quite some time before he makes it into Witness me), so!  Without further ado, have some brotherly fluff and a lot of Maul introspection.

Apparently, Nightbrothers on Dathomir had holidays.

Maul hadn’t known that; he wasn’t raised there and had no memory of the place, but he had two brothers and with every day that passed since they had come into his life, he grew closer to them.  Slowly, he got used to the mere concept of having blood family; it was such a foreign thing at first that he had a hard time figuring out how to relate to it, but as time went on, he was getting-- better at it, he thought.

It wasn’t easy; Savage had known nothing but Dathomir from birth.  He had no real understanding of the wider world than that, and it often showed.  More than once, Maul caught him trying so very hard to catch up and grasp such a wide galaxy, so much wider than one village and the surrounding areas on one back-water world, and it was-- it was hard watching Savage struggle with it.  He was intelligent enough, it wasn’t that; he just wasn’t raised like Maul was.  He was grown when he left Dathomir to try to save his little brother; even if Maul had spent his first seven years (or six) on Mustafar, isolated and alone, he was educated in how big the universe was, at least.

For Savage, though, it was gods and goddesses; it was Nightsisters and disappearing males and the quiet terror of the day he was chosen.  It was hunting and raising children.  It was fighting, and weighing his worth on his ability to provide and protect.

 It was a strange thing, for Maul to go between small children in the creche and an older brother, tall and rangy and only now really starting to lose the hollowed-out features of a hard-bitten life in favor of something more filled-out and healthy, because the children and Savage had a common innocence, a lack of sophistication, no matter how bright and clever they were.  But where the children would grow into it, Savage had to go backwards to learn, and it was a struggle for everyone.

Maul did what he could, and in this case, it meant celebrating a Dathomirian holiday; a day set aside for families, be they chosen (as they often had to be for Nightbrothers, shattered down the middle and isolated and stolen) or by blood.  Savage had hesitantly tried to explain it for him, talking of obscure hunts by moonlight and torch-flowers, and about making sweet biscuits from roots which could only be dug up once a year to go with their kills.  Maul couldn’t quite grasp it, but he wanted to be there and do something with it, and maybe if he did, it would give his big brother one more thing to help him feel more at home on Coruscant.

It was likely to end up as much an exchange in cultures as it was a celebration.

Savage had insisted fervently that Maul didn’t need to bring a gift, even though gifts were supposed to be exchanged, but Maul didn’t want to turn up empty handed.  So, he requisitioned a zhaboka; Iridonian in origin, but a weapon zabraks had an affinity for, and when he got the plain double-bladed weapon, he sat for many hours across a few nights carving into the wooden handle, allowing the Force to guide his carving knife.  When it was finished, he rubbed black stain into the abstract, elegant patterns, then a lighter stain over the untouched wood, and finished it the night before with a clearcoat to protect the work.

On one end, under the blade, he tied two coverts he pulled, much to Obi’s concern -- it hurt some, but not terribly, not worse than being stung by a fly -- with leather and hoped the present would be well-received.

(Feral’s gift was much easier; with Issa’s help, he had Bloodclaw Killgore, who was Bloodfang’s little brother and with just as many felt teeth.)

“I wasn’t able to get the same kind of flour and roots,” Savage said, fretting before Maul was even through the door all the way.  On the small counter were supplies and a baking sheet, and it looked like Feral had been helping, given the little prints everywhere.  Then Savage stopped for a moment, looking wide-eyed at the wrapped gifts Maul had brought. “You didn’t have to,” he said, not in accusation, but in apparent anxiety.

“I wanted to,” Maul replied, then oof’d as Feral ran into his legs and hugged them fiercely.  He grinned down at his little brother, reaching around himself with his wing since his arms were full, and brushing it across the tiny Nightbrother’s back. “Can I help bake?”

Savage looked a little worried, though also oddly pleased at the same time. Maul idly wondered (not for the first time) at their genetic differences, because Feral seemed to share some common features with Maul, facially, but Savage’s eyes especially were so different from both of theirs; striking, shifting color in different lighting, and elegantly shaped.  Though, Maul and Savage shared almost identical horn patterns.

“I can try to teach you.  It will be harder with the different ingredients.”  Savage gingerly took the wrapped presents away from Maul to set with the other ones in the corner of the room.  Once he had, Maul picked Feral up and held him against a hip, following Savage over to the counter.

Once they got into the rhythm of it, though, like most things it got easier.  Maul had to work one-handedly, but Feral more than made up for it, helping roll the dough into balls with his small hands.  The results were a sheet full of uneven cookie-like objects, but once they were baking, something in Savage’s face seemed to settle and he looked nearly comfortable, with the smell of food cooking in the air and the lower lighting in the room and the three of them together.

Maybe a little more like he felt at home.

(If @doorsclosingslowly wants to continue this, I am down for it. XD  Since Savage is really more Anton’s muse.  Speaking of, Anton, if I screw anything up, God, let me know.)