#Onward And Upward - Starter [Open]

[mysandersmysandersandme]

Tag List

RP Memes: #Adventure Awaits - Meme Tag

Starters: #Onward And Upward [Starter: Open/Closed]

Out Of Character - #ooc OR #OOC://

Dash Commentary - #Behind The Scene-kid - Dash Commentary

Character Tags:

Sir Sing-A-Lot [Roman]

The Dadliest Catch [Patton]

My Chemically Imbalanced Romance [Virgil]

Smarter Than Everyone Else [Logan]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Lied [Janus]

Stinky [Remus]

[bldrdsh]

@afterdeaths / starter call ( nikolai kane )

He huffs, leaning over for a second with the grappling hook still dangling from the stone he'd fastened it to before glancing up through a nearby opening out onto the open natural landscape.

Hunt successes always felt the best when received with a view. Out in the wilds here, he vividly recalls the last time he was out like this. The indescribable excitement that came. This had been what Karter & Katrina had said was the true appeal of hunting was.

A moment passes, and air exhales through nostrils, glancing about the tunnel system before him before rubbing his chin with his open hand.

"Onwards & upwards, Kane."

[itgrowsunchecked]

" You're stuck in here too, just like me. . . " Nigh a whisper was shared, a murmur easily snuffed by what infernal cacophony plagued all around. The place was once lovely, painted with dreams, a house for those less fortunate; he remembered seeing it on T.V, an orphanage with arms wide open, willing to accept any searching for succour - now barren.

Its walls lived on, old scabs of paint peeled off at the slightest touch as if this building had been abandoned for centuries and yet. . . somehow, it stood the test of time. Henry was seated against a closed door, whilst the hallway stretched onwards into what could be considered mouths of darkness. Any source of light shined from the flickering lamp above him, and he did not appear very concerned by the eerie atmosphere.

Affront his lowered gaze stood someone, or something, he couldn't quite make it for he refused to peer upwards. " or maybe I'm just imagining things again. " The suffocating silence on the hallway served of little help, it was as if the very building itself waited for him to press on in order to face its horrors.

@s-talking / starter

[bringslife]

ㅤ                he brings the storm in his wake ...

indie  ,   mutually exclusive ,  novelizations &    canon  compliant , with possible divergences      +       headcanon    based    portrayal    of    bbc doctor who's   fifteenth regeneration of the doctor. carrd tracklist blogroll pinterest

mains & affiliates: @maestrs

inspired themes: i bring life , the last of your kind , loneliness , running , your fears coming to life , the need for adventure , abandonment , loss , maybe i'm the bad luck , found family , laughing hard , moving on - onwards and upwards , not dealing with trauma

* due to various reasons, hectic work hours, depression (because of work lol), sudden onset of arthritis & impending grief, my activity will be a lot lower than usual. i of course want to write & will try to as much as possible, but please not if i dont send any memes or respond to any replies right away its not because of a lack of interest. 💛

001.

no drama, dont pressure for replies, no vague blogging. don't be a dick, don’t follow if you don’t plan on interacting with me. you can reblog from me but don't use me as a resource. activity may be somewhat low as i have a full-time job, life outside of rp & other blogs i want to try to be active on, this blog will be the one i plan on being the most active on however.

002.

racists, homophobes, transphobes, antisemites, islamophobes etc are not welcome here. i will block in those circumstances. dark themes may be present as they relate to my muse: death, war, depictions of ptsd, grief, please be advised. i have no issues writing darker themes, however, i will not write or interact with those who write rape, incest, pedophilia.

003.

i would love to establish dynamics, whether it be romantic, antagonistic, platonic, etc. however i reserve the right to be selective. shipping or dynamics may require plotting or interaction beforehand. the likeliness of writing smut is low but not completely impossible. i am open to fade-to black & plots with kissing. i have been in the mood to try writing it again but i am a little rusty.

004.

i will be wholeheartedly staying true to canon wrt the timeless child arc & won't budge on it (insp from both 13s & 15s runs with possible headcanons) it is an arc that i enjoyed from both different runs. that & it's hugely important to 15's arc this season, specifically with his connection to ruby.

005.

on the doctor's sexuality / gender & more on shipping: i don't have a set sexuality for the doctor, i think the doctor is queer for sure, and this version is less asexual compared to some of the other doctors. that said, i don't think the doctor thinks about labels for themselves or considers them much outside of understanding they are important to other people (humans in particular). the doctor's interests wrt romantic and sexual also changes when their face changes. the doctor goes by both they / them & he / him pronouns. i will be very interested in shipping. however, despite this regeneration of the doctor being more flirty, more open, i do think it will still be difficult in a lot of the same ways with the other versions of the doctors. the doctor wants wants wants to fix himself to someone like 13 did with yaz but in a lot of ways he's still very hesitant because of how much it will hurt when he loses them. he's also still grieving river. so as flirty and more open as the doctor is, he may also be frustrating lol.

006.

i prefer at least one paragraph threads, but it's not necessary. the best way to write with me is by sending memes or plotting. i generally do not do starters and will rarely like starter calls. i personally don't use much formatting when it comes to replies, it's made it easier to write and feels better. at the most, i sometimes use icons and sometimes will use small text but that will be extremely rare. feel free to format however you like.

007.

psd: a combination of venuscommissions , phantomsources & calisources. screen caps: ordinariumsresources icon template: ariapsds edits/gifs are made by me.

[the-devil-less-known]

I LIVE, LATER THAN EXPECTED BUT IM ALIVEEE

Gonna go through my threads now and be a MENACE!

If anyone wants to start a thread, my prompt is above or I'm open to be tagged in starters🤍 onwards and upwards!

Gonna eat and take a short nap, then I'll reply to all threads! Gonna see if my laptop will cooperate for once enough for me to trim threads, if not then I'll make new ones with links back and @ the appropriate rpbuddies🤍

Thank you for your patience, lovelies

[milesducemdominus]

@dutiesend​ || LIKED for a STARTER

"We’ve need to push onward-” Injury and discomfort be damned. With plumes of smoke rising upward to the darkened heavens and explosions illuminating the skies, one could not be blamed for wishing to hasten their movements. Ghimlyt was hardly the variety of space one would enjoy lingering within, especially when consumed by war and the vicious scars of it. “If we remain here, we leave ourselves open to ambush-!” 

[due4amiracle]

Day 223

Listo:

Wash 2 plates/bowls/pieces of silverware, 2 chapters, Dailies, Vamp shiz, 2 anime eps.

Wash 2 plates/bowls/pieces of silverware - Nope.🚫

2 chapters - Shadow Rites 15%! ✔

Dailies - Waifu Did my dailies! Also, level 41 BP now~! AND! Tree lvl 10! New week new weeklies! FFXIV did my Kobold, Sahagin dailies. MSQ +1 -> 60, BTN +0 -> 51, CUL +1 -> 62, WVR +1 -> 52, GSM +1 -> 44, FSH +1 -> 20, MIN +3 -> 31. Ok so today is the day where things go a bit wild. Did 9 Kobold dailies, then opened up and did the 3 starter Sahagin dailies. From now on, will be switching back and forth between Kobold and Amalj'aa until they’re both finished off. Amalj'aa: 14/510, Kobold: 146/510 - Both Rank 3/4 Friendly. Sahagin: 30/150 Rank 1 Neutral. :) Did a bunch of turn-ins for Serpents, thus lots of levels for almost everyone! (Poor BTN) ...Have lots of quests to do tomorrow. Pushed MSQ forward a LOT. Whew. Busy busy bee.✔✔

Vamp shiz - Nope.🚫

2 anime eps - Kekkai Sensen! Yep, watched two episodes, go me. i love Leo, i love Chain, and i love Michella - everyone else can go suck a fuck. xD✔

Other things - Actually slept pretty decently last night. Felt great. Still didn’t get much done - outside of FFXIV ofc, but still. No cleaning, no dishes, no bloodwork... Sigh. Tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow... But. That’s what it’ll have to be at this point. Tomorrow. No real bad pain, finger’s doing a lot better, but general aches and pains, my joints are achey, and a mild headache. On the flip side of that coin, i’m exhausted, and feeling kind of... idk. Down. Because i want to sleep, ffs. But... Sir just accidentally down 1/4 a can of energy drink.. we’re going to be up a while... sigh...

Food: A Liquid: A Pain: B Brain: C

Tomorrow: Wash 2 plates/bowls/pieces of silverware, 2 chapters, Dailies, Vamp shiz, 2 anime eps.

Ever Onwards and Upwards!

[northernxstories]

Hello!!

Proper intro post needed I think.

So when, for whatever reason, tumblr decided my old indie blog was inaccessible, I grieved my old one and created this one. 

In an effort to have a nice fresh start, I have updated my Rules, Plot Pages and ... drumroll please ... created a Tags page. That’s right. All my lovely friends and fellow writers, that means our thread gets an identifiable tag that I can then go check when I think I have misplaced a thread. No more losing threads by accident or relying on the tragedy that is the activity page.

As tumblr tags are now basically useless, I won’t be bothering with many (or really any) opens. So if you want a thread, let’s do it. I do not mind writing the starter. You know how I love to set a scene.

For plots I’ve created categories so people can identify what may be interesting to them and we can plot and then write accordingly. I also created a trigger filter on the plots page so you can rank your level of interest in the filth that lives in my head. I will be working on filling out the ideas pages for each plotting category over the next few weeks. It may appear there is cross-over but in my head each category is quite distinct. I hope I have conveyed that but if not, well, it makes sense to me ... oops?

I’ve also created a Tags category for my little vignettes and stories etc. so you can read or not as you please. I am always willing to turn a Bedtime Story as I call them into an actual plot. 

I am also open to any plot ideas you may have that you think my muses would suit. I’m always excited to talk plotting. 

On the Tags page there is a category for one overarching story that I’ve been working on that is a strange mashup of my Vikings boys in The 100 universe (mostly because the finale was so dissatisfying that I cannot let it go. I personally suspect I will feel this way also about the ending of Vikings). I just like it so I’m really just writing it for me and posting it to keep track of it all. feel free to block ‘the bunker’ as a tag if these posts are not interesting to you.

I’m aiming for good organization, plotting and writing this time. I’m going to try to rein in my impulsive ways so that we can really develop things because that is actually my favourite part. I just get distracted by shiny objects and random ideas. Onward and upward as they say as we head into 2021.

~ Ames, the Cookie Monster

[sixmorningsafter]

An Apology Letter, SMA Love Letter, & Gabi Appreciation Letter

Let me begin this review by apologizing. Not just for waiting almost a year to review this insanely awesome chapter (don’t even tell me I don’t have to; I’ll drive up state just to take you by the shoulders and shake you and that silly thought out of your head; it is an honor and privilege to tell you how awesome you are!), but also for the tone of this review feeling so haggard. 2018 was, as Damon told Kai, “not a good look”, and I feel like it’s digested all the gall and sass and shit-starting energy I usually dole out for these reviews, so here I am, a regurgitation, still holding to the fact that you’re a fabulous writer who deserves all the praise I can possibly muster for your efforts. Despite having a life (or not, considering, ya know, med school), you still post on this page; you’re clearly still carrying the headcanons and the plot and the characters with you. I know the feeling of having the desire to write but feeling too tired, physically and emotionally, or disinterested or unmotivated, or whatever so I can’t even sit in your inbox like “hey love sma! You write soooo good. You’re awesome! and uh when are you gonna update?” Of course, I’d love an update, but I also know you. You want to put out your best work, what you’re at least 95% proud of, and it’s so obvious in Chapter 17.

Side note: I reread Chapter 16 and my review to give myself context and bolster some pizazz just for you.

REPLY: Let me begin my response to this review by apologizing for MY TEARS. Cass, you’re just an absolute light in this bitchy eclipse of a world and your ridiculous kindness radiates off every sassy, stubborn, talented, vulnerable, open-hearted part of you and I’m so, so happy I get to call you a friend. The fact that you took the time to write all of this despite your ridiculously busy, full, grad student, WEDDING-PLANNING (at the time) life, largely because you knew it’d put an idiotic smile on my face? You’re just a gem of a human being. I don’t know what else to say. I’m trying to keep my responses as succinct as possible because I’m so eager to post this and share your insights and writing with everyone else, partly because they always make me and my dumb writing look smarter than it actually is, but mostly because it’s a crime to keep it from the world. Anyway, onward and upward:

Bamon + Kai + the Pig Cadaver

To remind the audience, Bamon had a pretty petty and deep-cutting fight last chapter; Damon got over himself, with the help of Kai (kinda), and now Bamon are on better terms. That being said, these two dumbies are so… nerve-wrackingly good at detaching themselves from conflict. Like, I feel like Steroline would have put up walls and ruminated hard on something as harsh as Damon’s mention of Bonnie’s shitty life, but Bamon are King and Queen of sweeping the bad shit under the rug.

REPLY: I think it’s so cool that you point that out because it made me realize that’s one of my favorite things about writing Bonnie and Damon: they’re ability to both deliver and take hits. They’ve both gone through some really dark, messed up stuff - the kind of stuff people with more traditional upbringings tend to tiptoe around because they don’t know how to talk about it - so it’s almost like to be accepted in their entirety, they need to be around people who are unafraid of that stuff. Unafraid to go there. Unafraid to bring it up, unafraid to cross lines sometimes, unafraid to make jokes about messed up experiences and accept them about each other without flinching. I think they can recover quickly from those kind of blows from each other because in a weird way, at least they’re being acknowledged. At least someone’s talking about it without getting that wincing, deer-in-the-headlights look and acting like it’s a forbidden topic. Obviously in the last chapter, Damon took it too far and was trying to actively alienate her with his comments, but in general I really enjoy writing their budding sense of familiarity with each other. Anyway, good thing I’m being succinct right the review hasn’t even really started GOOD LORD.

Damon jolting Bonnie like she’s being electrocuted is so unbearably cute to me. So domestic. So friendly but also playful but also coupley… I’m dead.

“Wow, you’re really going full nerd.”/”Oh… you sweet summer child, you haven’t even begun to see full nerd.” In my previous review, I (demanded) mentioned wanting more nerd!Bonnie, and you delivered. What an honor, truly.

“It was like he’d [Kai] never left, except now he was surrounded by a bunch of wires and a mini Tesla coil.” I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but I think it’s so funny and silly that you embedded some serious sci-fi shit in this romcom fic. Like, we’re really out here, considering is Kai an alien? Can Kai really teleport or “dissolve in and out of the time-space continuum as he pleases”? He’s not just creepy or socially inept. He’s also fucking extraterrestrial.

lmfao in chapter 16 or 15 or whichever it was where they explored Kai’s apartment while he went swan-hunting, I had to make a choice about whether to keep things semi-realistic or just go balls-to-the-wall cray re: Kai and I think we all know which route I decided to take 😂

“Still, it was a surprisingly appealing thought, the idea of having some kind of effect on him.”/ “Snagging the unsnaggable.”/ “Ruffling the unruffable.” We out here, making up words and shit; my Word doc spell-check is having a field day. But her observation about having dealt with guarded people kind of relates to what I was tryna say earlier on: both Damon and herself are very guarded, and her ability to see that nothing truly sticks to him is reflective of that same for her.

“It was like he was coated in oil, like his entire personality was adapted to glide through life without ever catching on anything around him.” / “Even the good things.” Talk about knife to the gut (why yes, this is a reference to the future Steroline conversation, which I am using to demonstrate how fucking enamored I am by this understanding of Damon’s character). I feel like Damon started as the kid thinking “if things are good, then something bad is gonna happen” to “good? bad? what are those and, more importantly, who fucking cares?”

Just another day of Cass making me feel like a far better writer than I am because she always gets exactly what I’m going for and then explains it better than I do. That’s precisely his trajectory, man. He went from a kid with no control of his own life, constantly bracing for impact, to a kid who realized nothing can control if you don’t give a fuck. If good things don’t make you happy and bad things don’t make you sad, you’re always at equilibrium. You’re always at a steady-state. And most importantly, you’re at a steady-state that no outside factor controls.

“Maybe the oil coat went more than skin-deep.” Foreshadowing! I like this conversation a lot though. Insight about Bonnie’s past (another gracious gift promised last review, thank you SMA goddess for such a blessing) and her PTSD and embarrassment about the shit show that is her parents.

Bonnie’s “I wish I could turn it off like that.” Speaking of shit shows, nice nod to canon.

😂😂😂

“Was that—vulnerability?” Yes baby, revel in it! Idk if you did this on purpose, but it’s like Damon is leaning into his previous realization of her cracking his “varnish” (just realizing his description of a glossy seal is an almost visual parallel to Bonnie’s description of him being slick with oil (I’m thinking like petroleum)… anyways). Like, “she’s already seen me lose my fucking mind in the cellar, being a little vulnerable about it won’t hurt, right?” I mean, yes, but also, Bonnie is a shit-starter too, babe.

“Were those—emotions?” / “I hate knowing you.” / “Are you okay? Do you need some water?” and later paired with “How does it feel to be a human being?” / “Stupid.” / “That means you’re doing it right.”

You know how I feel about Kai’s “Friends!” He is so weird, and I love it, but I’m also afraid that I love it. Thanks!

Yeeeesssss, I wanted to show him slowly starting to adjust to the fact that she’s seen things. Him.  And you know what, here they are anyway. The world’s still spinning. She’s still being her weirdo competitive self. So maybe it’s not the worst thing to have (albeit accidentally) let someone in a little. A big motivation for me re: Bamon in this chapter was getting them to the point where they eased into being comfortable sharing things with each other. Not everything, obviously, but way more than they share with the average person. Kind of like a ‘well we’re stuck in this ridiculous situation and we’re unexpectedly more alike than we think so maybe we just lean in a little’. So I’m really glad that’s what you got out of this, WOOT.

Kai’s everyone’s friendly neighborhood son/serial killer and I think it’s best to just let yourself adore him and hope for a minimal body count. 

The Matt Talk

I think I already told you I was so emotionally distraught this chapter. If you’re new to SMA, hi I’m Cassandra and I’m always an emotional mess when it comes to Gabi’s writing. But, this was some next level shit. You’ve said so many times you’re worried about how these emotional scenes go, but like fuck dude. You went hard, and it was so difficult for me not to be actually crying. Idk, I’ve never been in Caroline’s situation or known anyone to go through this, but the whole injustice of it, you know? The possibility that any woman could be going through this or has gone through this. I’m not belittling the men who have been abused in their relationships, of course. What I am saying is if I am taking this personally, having never experienced it, but as a female, knowing this could very well happen, that means your writing is fucking spot on.

Full-disclosure, your entire breakdown of this scene is just the most beyond fantastic thing that I don’t even want to break it up with shitty responses. I’m pretty sure reading your insights about it affected me more than the entire multi-week process of actually writing it, so idk how you did that but here we are. For the millionth time, your responses are the only reason I think maybe all my fumbling and exasperated editing is somehow producing something half-okay. I’m dying whale noises. Bye.

Setting the scene up with Steroline in the tub, for being their poetic selves tryna be symmetrical in their emotional moments and emphasizing how thick the silence around them is… oof dude. I know you have that “movie” mentality when you write, and idk how you fucking do it, but it definitely translates. Idk if you’ve ever been in a moment like this, where you need to say something of Importance to someone of Importance, but your voice has just gone on vacation for a minute, and you’re sitting there with an empty tongue, and, in my experience, the person tries to prompt you about what you’re trying to say, but I’ve been in moments like this. So, this set up was so poignant for me. Luckily, she’s talking to Stefan, the boy who listens to even Rebekah earnestly and wholeheartedly.

Caroline’s Gazania daisies metaphor: shit breaks my heart. How long did she think about this? The metaphor is like… a detachment. Like, how light bends in water. Her story is the light, the flower metaphor is the water, allowing the story to refract, to be that much more removed from the reality.

“A flicker of intimacy based not on things they’d experienced together, but rather things they’d experienced apart.” I think it loops back to Bamon too, whether neither are eloquent enough to make that seamless connection. I think that should be the tag line of each ship; these very different people are tied to one another by feeling what they’ve felt and relating it back to what the other(s) has (have) felt.

I think you’ve very skillfully woven canon and SMA for Matt’s story. TVD made him the human golden boy, and SMA has him resentful and dark… and it just goes to show how environment can really shape a character’s outcome. tvd!Matt saw the supernatural as the reason his life was so shitty and suddenly had a purpose; sma!Matt didn’t have that scapegoat, so without rhyme or reason for his shitty circumstance, he fabricated that it was somehow Caroline.

Fucker.

“Senior year was kind of a train wreck” to “We were still okay, though. Still us.” Rereading this part made me seriously think of like… a slingshot. Like, all of this is just leading up to the snap and the release of Matt’s true colors. And how devastatingly it was that Caroline didn’t know, honestly couldn’t know, that it was going to happen.

Shit like Matt being mad at Caroline for proudly blurting out she got accepted into NYU when Vicky had just OD’ed is so fucked up to me. To be actually mad about it. Bro, stay mad about it. But that’s the point, isn’t it? That this was the final straw for him, the last thing to tip him into batshit abusive fuck mode.

As a therapist, I could easily say, he is clearly shaped by his circumstances, he didn’t have enough support or self-esteem to fully develop the core values and strengths that he needed to not become this abusive piece of shit, that there might be some self-awareness by the way he tries to remedy a bad fight with a great breakfast (or a learned behavior to get approval again). Even if I do consider those things, irl and even with Matt, it’s in no way condonable, and I don’t think I could ever be able move from this point of view.

“She’d lived like that for months, a blur of turtlenecks and concealer, of overbright smiles and obsessive thoughts, of guilt and blame and normalizing the abnormal, of questioning if what she thought was happening was actually happening.” / “Could actually be happening.” Just reading this summarizes all the females who are in relationships like this, who question whether their partners’ could actually be raping them… ugh. It breaks my heart even now, writing this review.

(Honestly, I had to step away and resume the next day)

Caroline’s comeback: “He was staring at the old Caroline. The one he hadn’t broken in. The one that ran on gall and instincts, that didn’t dim herself for anyone, that’d jump in front of a bus for the people she loved… She’d grown back into her skin. Unshrunken till she was towering over him, a bright, brilliant light staring down at a meager lick of flames.” This whole bit was so good, so relieving, so satisfying. I know what Matt did still haunts her, but Caroline coming back and reclaiming who she is, even to present time, is so, so satisfying.

“Let’s be real, though, Bonnie could probably beat us both up.” / “Definitely.” – these were my thoughts when Caroline was defending her lol.

The Universe Speech: ilysm but also fuck you for being so good at this lol. I am so mad at how good you are at this, and you’re kinda like shruggy shoulders, I’m-just-trying-my-best. Get your humble ass out of here. “I think you’re a universe. I think you’re full of suns—and comets and black holes and everything in between. And when one sun burns out, you’ll just flare into a million more, unapologetic and infinite, because nothing… not pain, not heartbreak, not even the entire exec board of Emory apparently, can stop a universe from expanding.”

And Caroline immediately clicking with the metaphor? (rewriting her Gazania metaphor story I hope) And she runs with it like, “It couldn’t help but make her feel like maybe she hadn’t lost anything. /  Maybe she’d just outgrown it.” and “An infinite, chaotic expanse of dazzling light and annihilating dark… capable of anything but responsible for nothing outside of stretching out toward an invisible horizon fiercely, constantly, even in the face of billions of years of gravity pulling her back”. THIS IS MY SHIT DUDE. First off, this visual representation of a person is so beautiful and inspiring and so full of grace and forgiving, you know what I mean? It just shouts volumes to how okay it is to fail sometimes or to feel Feelings, and how it shouldn’t and couldn’t be used against her. It’s literally the expanded and improved version of “reach for the stars” – more like be the universe, among the stars, and reach for the unknown. BIG OOF.

“I can’t possibly follow that up with my dumb Elena drama” / “Hey, not a competition.” – someone recently quoted someone else to me, saying It’s not the suffering Olympics, and it’s resonated with me so hard, dude.

Steroline throwing back things the others have said, Stefan’s “Whatever nice thing you feel like you have to say, it’s okay” and Caroline’s “You can’t escape me! / I’m unapologetic and infinite!”

I don’t remember if its this chapter or last, but Stefan indulging in Caroline’s playful side, and Caroline recognizing Stefan’s sassypants is by far my favorite Steroline Thing ™ in this story. Parallelly, Bonnie’s Damon-ain’t-shit attitude, and Damon’s she’s-more-than-I-anticipated revelation is my favorite Bamon Thing ™.

I am overwhelm-sion. 

I am aegoifhjaeoeagidhy.

That scene took me weeks of editing to get in a remotely publishable place and even then I was like WELP SURE HOPE THIS ISN’T OFFENSIVE FLAMING GARBAGE LOL ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT *POST* so. Needless to say. This response means el mundo. I am in full turtle.

But real quick, exiting emotional turtle stance to say that I feel like you and I have always been super in sync about liking writing that celebrates messiness and imperfections and humanity in all it’s mistake-ridden earnestness so I’m not surprised you liked the universe metaphor as much as I did. Fuck suns and their one-dimensional asses. We stan universes in this bitch. Asteroids. Supernovas. Blow some things up. Crash into some planets. Sink into some really deep darknesses. It’s okay. There will always be bright, brilliant stars all around you, too. 

Bamon, Kai, Bonnie’s Feral Sweet Tooth, and The Food Fight

Speak of the devil: “She shook her head, lips curling into a droll ‘get over yourself’ of a smile, and for some reason, something about the look stuck out to him a bit.” AND, MY FAV: “For some reason, he liked it.” YES YES YES YES.

He’s hopeless.

The “Love It” arc (why yes I did use that word very specifically to refer to the sassy snap). On a tangent, Kai on Twitter, Kai on Pinterest… for an alien, he’s very adaptive.

He’s got his entire home planet hooked on snapchat. 

Oh, here it is again: “Now that he knew what a genuine fucking weirdo she was, he was a little curious about what she’d actually been thinking.” I know fluffy moments such as Never Have I Ever (before shit hit the fan) are most likely over, but if they were to return, I suggest Truth or Dare, and Damon asks Bonnie what she thought of him when he’d met Caroline (and her) at that club. Listen, both Damon and I want to know. I’m not saying make it happen, but I am.

There’s another dinner coming for their last snowed in night because I’m nothing if not repetitive and I think Truth or Dare is a trope I can definitely work in. I mean, I wouldn’t want it to feel left out given that I’ve used every other fanfic trope known to mankind.

“Wow!” Bonnie exclaimed, leaning forward to peer at the uncanny cake topper with a bewildered look. He even got her one earring right. – I’m cryinggg

He’s special.

“Can we just… go through what all of these heavenly things are, because I may look calm, but I’m actually losing my mind.”

“Absofruitely!” This is a mine of just so many fucking gems.

Kai Knowing: I feel like he’s just a mind-reader, because he already stated he can’t read people very well. But I absolutely love how both Bonnie and Damon are like, oh yeah totally super in love you betcha bud, and Kai’s like, I see it for realsies this time. Bamon 4 Eva bb. Love at first bicker, honestly.

lolololol I just loved the idea that their growing connection was so goddamn obvious that even the self-declared Worst Person Reader Ever was like ‘wowza so this is love huh?’

The Food Fight. I love the “She was glaring at him, eyelashes coated in frosting” line so much. It’s both cute and endearing, and the fact that Damon is paying that close attention.

“Cupcake Quidditch seems kind of fun.”

“It’s stupid dangerous, not to mention a giant waste of food.” Lol Bonnie.

Bonnie being on the shooting team—and Damon also being good at shooting. AU of an AU where SMA Bamon are spies or assassins (Mr. & Mrs. Smith). But only sma bamon. Fuck canon.

We don’t know her.

But also yes to this AU. @coraxes​ once wrote this awesome drabble where Bonnie and Damon met as teenagers and because of it I’ve always wanted to do some alternate timeline where they grew up in the same city, weaving in and out of the same seedy social circle as teens, flickering in and out of the periphery of each other’s lives, but always having this strange tension whenever their paths happened to cross, you know? Just these rare, vaguely loaded interactions where they both saw glimpses of the fact that the other was smarter than this, better than this, you know? That they both were. The point of this all being that I could imagine them both showing off whatever it is they know about guns, lololol. 

“It’s not very captain-y to bathe in the blood of my enemies either but hell if that’s going to stop me.”

She’s also special.

“Temporary timeout” leading to the “Truce” leading to “she suddenly hit him with the look, like Bambi and Tiny Tim and sixteen puppies and every Pixar character ever created had been thrown into one of those face-combining apps” which ultimately leads to Damon’s “fine” and his absolute bewilderment “He just blinked in confusion, unsure of what the hell had just happened.”

From “he held out his [launcher] and she stared at it for a beat before grudgingly taking it” to “in the split-second before she spoke, he suddenly knew exactly what was about to happen” STRAIGHT UP, UNFILTERED GOLD. Like, there’s no other explanation, really. You’re the Midas of Belvafore. I’m calling it, it has been declared, no take backsies or arguments from you, young lady.

I AM NO SUCH THING BUT I WILL TAKE IT ANYWAY.

The Elena Talk

Stefan’s safe space being Bonnie’s room – my heart. There are a lot of things I don’t like about canon, you know, but it would have made so much sense to have a stefonnie friendship (more than bamon, honestly). I didn’t know I needed it until SMA lol.

Listen, I was never into it until I wrote this. I don’t even know where it came from - I legit think the clips for the first trailer I made just worked out that way so I rolled with it, but once I started writing it it felt so natural? They just bounce off each other so easily, it’s one of my fave dynamics to write in a fic full of dynamics I love to write.

The glow-in-the-dark stars: I can totally imagine Stefan helping Bonnie move into every new place, and once all the boxes are in, he’s like, all right now for the real reason I helped you move in, and he rearranges the constellations by memory.

LMAO YES.

The fire escape call backs lol. I feel like every single person in this universe is a shit-starter—it just comes easier to Daroline lol.

The segue from the glow-in-the-dark stickers to “Bright things fade” in reference to the bright, warm, gooey-ness that was Stelena. You already know, I am impressed times a thousand, as always. I also think using this space theme between them is interesting and something to be explored. (I feel like an English teacher, and like maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, there is something there, and honestly, as the writer, it was your gut feeling to go with this theme, so maybe it was a subconscious effort, if not fully intentional). (Fight me).

We can go with me having complicated, writery instincts with layers and intricacies that are all very intentional or we can go with me not being creative enough to come up with another metaphor. 

The Meet-Cute has a quality that makes it perfect for Stelena. Yes, you are the author, and yes, you created what is ‘perfect’ for them, and yet? It could have easily been a different meet-cute, not Stefan’s speechlessness or her instant smitten-ness. God, he is such a Ted Mosby. But, at least, he’s learning from his Elena experience, that love may not exactly work like that. Maybe love-at-first-sight is a thing (hard maybe), but like Caroline soon alludes to, it’s more devastatingly impactful if love is grown as between two friends or even two people who don’t even like each other (both ships, honestly).

THE TED MOSBIEST. I honestly had trouble writing some of that scene because I was trying to walk the fine line between ‘this guy is sappy and unrealistic but ultimately earnest’ and ‘this guy has imposed wildly unrealistic ideals onto the world around him and it comes from a place of entitlement and privilege and neither the narrative nor the characters condone it’. I’m a big hater of the Ted Mosby’s of the world because I feel like they go through the motions of ‘growing’ but actually just keep doing the exact same thing and falling head over heels for girls that ‘disappoint them’ without ever seriously looking at themselves, so what I tried to do in the scene was show the side of Stefan that’s kind of messed up AND the side of him that realizes he’s kind of messed up. I wanted Caroline’s original dislike of him to make a little more sense, but also wanted to show you why he’s different from the prototypical Nice Guy. He knows that he was unrealistic. He knows that he purposefully turned a blind eye to red flags. He knows that he was putting too much weight on something that had a flimsy foundation at best. But he’s still human and admits that he’s never felt something that electric before, despite all that knowledge, and that’s why he hasn’t been able to shake this for two years. SO yeah, he’s an interesting one to pin down.

Sidenote about the Salvatores: I think it’s interesting that the first person Rebekah calls is Stefan, Stefan calls Lexi. Does that mean Lexi calls Freya? Freya probably doesn’t call a damn one of them lol. It’d be interesting if Lexi or Freya called Rebekah, for non-logical thinking, you know what I mean? I feel like Freya (even though it should be impossible to feel anything about her, considering she’s just a thought at this point) is very well-grounded, and she has a harder time thinking with her heart—and that’s why she might call someone like Rebekah. Omg, could you imagine that they all want to call Stefan, but if he’s busy, they call one another like, “Okay what would Stefan say? What would Stefan do?” Lol, headcanon.

Honestly this is perfect. And you’ve got Freya down to a T so idk how that happened. One of my fave things is getting headcanons about the Salvatores because they’ve basically had like one scene (two for Rebekah) on the phone and yet everyone just gets them. Every headcanon I get is spot-on. It’s delightful.

“Sounds like you and me”… “You said scowls and blizzards and vomit-inducing disdain, right?” lol oh Caroline. Allergic to a sincere moment, either reacting very, very violently or with a joke to help alleviate his discomfort.

She’s a syrupy little thing.

“Nothing could diminish the drug-rush feeling that’d flooded his veins”. I think it’s interesting that his reaction is “Nothing could ever make him forget that he was capable of feeling that much” and not that he wanted to feel that feeling again. It seems like him staying with Elena was him resupplying that feeling, but irl, it seems like people are more likely to relationship-hop, thinking that the relationship/the significant other was at fault, that love in its full drug-like capacity is worth it and they need, need, need it. It’s interesting that he turned inward and actively avoids feeling that way. He later says “It’s so hard not to want to feel it again” but what keeps him from feeling that way again? Is it Caroline’s fear of a person’s potential to ruin? Or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t found someone who is like that? Does Stefan even date around? I’m curious about your insight.

This actually took me a while to pin down in the story because canon was so all over the place with Stefan’s love life - I feel like he had a new love-of-his-life-from-the-past every season and if it wasn’t this random guest star, it was the other one, you know? He was kind of a serial monogamist in canon and yet still managed to have this distinct air of believing in a singular soulmate/’Elena’ lowkey being the be all, end all, you know? So I basically ignored that confusing shit and conceptualized him as a very picky person when it came to love. He doesn’t fall easily - or before Elena, ever. He mentions dating Valerie in high school and I’m sure he went on a few dates here and there in early college, but Elena was a punch in the face for him. He didn’t know what it was about her. He’d never felt that way about anyone before, not even close. Love wasn’t even really the drug-rush, it was her, specifically. That’s why he hasn’t felt it again, that’s why he’s scared he never will - it was entirely tied to Elena. If we wanted to analyze the ‘why’ of it all - why her, why would someone so picky just see someone and feel something they’d never felt before - I would probably say that Stefan grew up with a very specific picture of what he wanted in life, and for whatever reason, she looked exactly like what he’d imagined. The dark hair. The soft features. The romantic eyes. I think it also ties into canon a little, too, since in TVD he was immediately drawn to Elena because she looked exactly like Katherine. Immediate, visual enrapture. So yeah, long story short, I don’t see him as a guy who dates around a lot. I see him as a guy who, pre-Elena, thought he knew exactly what he wanted and never really compromised until he (thought) he found it. And now I see him as a guy who realizes that was an incredibly stupid way to think about love but worries it’s the only approach he’s capable of/that’ll make him feel that incredible feeling.

“But I’m scared I will anyways… And you’re scared you won’t.” Oof. Biggest oof.

I like how Stefan says he doesn’t want to sound like a cliché, but he’s a Disney prince. It only makes sense that he would feel that way, you know? It only makes sense that his life would play out that way. Who are this boys’ parents? How did they indoctrinate him? Or, rather, what thing made him this way?

He’s a mess. This is what happens when you’re the lone golden boy in a family of six and everyone indulges your unrealistic bullshit as cute/funny.

Your writing, for this movie montage of their love, is so perfect. Rude. The imagery! The word-choice! The whole thing reminds me of a caramel-candy commercial, where everything is warm and gooey and slow-motion. Clearly I’m not as cultured to compare to a Sundance film lol, but nonetheless, you did an excellent job describing that warm-toned, rose-colored-glasses kind of love.

Wow, I just realized how much Stefan sounds like the stereotypical ‘male author’. Except he has some decency not to describe the weight of her breasts or her aura during sex (eyeroll). Even his “and he was happy to be her anchor to that for the rest of their lives if she needed him to be”. Idr when, but Stefan shakes off some fairytale notion, saying ‘life doesn’t work that way’ or something – that is character development that we didn’t know we needed!

CAN YOU IMAGINE STEFAN DESCRIBING THE WEIGHT OF ELENA’S BREASTS now I need it

Yeah, honestly, I already said it but I’ll say it again - half the battle of writing that scene was giving Stefan just enough Ted Mosby/Male Author vibes to make him realistically flawed but not going too far as to making him someone you’re actively not rooting for anymore. I think you make a great point, though - he’s growing out of it and recognizing the role he played in his relationship failures and I think that’ll hopefully be what sets him apart.

Also, kudos for the Colorado trip call back. I think it’s very telling how invested and how thought out your process is for these characters by how you using some passing details like, Steroline skirting around their Matt and Elena stories, and then actually using them in their ‘origin’ stories… like, again, you didn’t have to, but you! went! there! and you did a phenomenal job, dude. Again, just a testament to how invested you are. Sure, you could say you wrote it out of order or something brush-off-y, but  to even consider, oh hey continuity is a thing, is great. We stan an Awesome Writer!

lmao I’m so happy you get as much enjoyment as I do from little details like that - I’m usually pretty terrible at it because updating within a normal time frame? Don’t know her. But anytime I see a chance to make a random detail I threw in years ago feel remotely deliberate, I’m all over that shit.

“He felt the barest flicker of defensiveness shoot through him… instead he thought back to the trip”. Hopefully, before I submit this, I would have submitted a list of headcanons I have. One of them is that Stefan’s so well-adjusted via his introspection, that I think one of this parents are a therapist of sorts. I’m just calling it.

oooo, I LIKE that. Largely because Therapist Parents would annoy the everloving hell out of Lexi, lmao - I feel like she’s the prototypical daughter of therapists who goes out of her way to be unpredictable just so her parents can’t psychoanalyze her/figure her out.

I wonder if Stefan still thinks he and Elena could have OTP. Like, he says “or, at least, as much sense as the idea of her and a guy like Liam will ever make to me”. Because if Liam is like canon Liam… she and Liam made total sense (aside from her still being a vampire). Oh but wait… Elena is an artist, not pre-med. Because Elena x Liam made sense in TVD, being pre-med kids, flirty and competitive and ambitious. If she’d never known about the supernatural world, it would make sense for her to be with a Liam, and not a Damon, because Liam is the human version of intense/consuming… Sorry about that canon tangent. Canon, I don’t know her?

Who is she? I think I went to high school with her but we weren’t friends. 

What’s SMA Liam like? Or is Stefan’s bitterness getting in the way of seeing, maybe, that Liam did make sense for Elena?

Re: Liam - it’s basically what you said above. Very different from canon Liam. Definitely played more of the canon Damon role re: this cocky, morally ambiguous bad boy that appealed to the darker/superficial/more selfish parts of Elena (that she felt she had to hide from Stefan). I think at the start of the story, there’s still a part of Stefan that thinks Stelena was OTP but the further it goes and the deeper he falls into this thing with Caroline, the more that part disappears. I think it’s really easy to idolize something when you have nothing to compare it to, and even more so when you have no closure so you stay stuck on it and time keeps passing it and making it more and more immortalized.  With Caroline in the picture now, though, I think it’s shifting his relationship with Elena into a different, more exposing light and revealing some of the insubstantiality of it all. 

Elena’s “it’s was like all those awful parts of me were allowed to exist again” speech is so heartbreaking. I know we’re here to cheer for Stefan, be on his ‘side’, and in no way am I saying cheating is condonable, but it’s another great example of how a writer can make you root for both sides of a broken-up couple. A mentor of mine once told me the sign of a good therapist is for each person in a couple to think you’re on their side. And I’m applying this to writing now. Not, in anyway, can I apply this to Matt (fuck that guy), but I get it for Elena. And it totally makes sense that Stefan was like that, or has a potential to be that way.

This was exactly what I was going for so I’m so happy that’s what your fancy talented therapist brain got out of it. 

I love how Caroline’s conversation of ‘you can be this way and the situation was not your fault’. Basically, to say to Stefan ‘you don’t know if you could have loved the real Elena’ and ‘you didn’t deserve what Elena did’ is such a good conversation to have. Because knowing this Soft Boy and knowing how most people feel when their partners cheat, it would make sense for him to blame himself. It seems he does that by the way he holds himself back from doing that to Caroline.

Wow, he even comes to this realization, “he hadn’t been able to reconcile the idea of both of them being a little right”. Don’t I look dumb lol… time to retreat….

NO because as I was writing that dialogue I kept getting it wrong and either making it sound like Caroline was blaming him completely or too much on his side and I was struggle-bussing to strike the exact balance you’re describing so NOT DUMB AT ALL. Exactly what I was flailingly going for.

Caroline’s “Okay, now, you’re just indulging.” Another headcanon, Steroline have made a rule to say, “do you need a moment” for any self-indulgent emotion in a conversation. But they only allow a moment. That’s it. ~feel and let go~

Wow, Caroline a combination of all the Salvatore Sisters? Works like a Freya, thinks like a Bekah, talks like a Lexi.

😂this just got vaguely Freudian but also, yes.

“I don’t want to be the guy who makes people feel like they have to pretend around him. That guy sucks.”/ “That guy does kind of suck” BUT ALSO “You may have a certain gooey idealism about you that makes people want to, I don’t know, believe in good things.” My fairly-new/just-for-SMA Steroline heart!

There’s hope for them yet.

The Knife Speech: yes. Wouldn’t it have been kinda funny if, instead of pretending to stab herself in the stomach, she pretended to stab him, a perfect foreshadowing. Also her “I’d imagine that’s when you’re really fucked, so… best is yet to come for you, Salvatore.” BUT WAIT. Perhaps the knife stabbing of oneself is the imagery of allowing one’s self to be stabbed, to be gutted, to be vulnerable enough to be in love. (Here goes English-teacher Cassandra again, please forgive her, she’s eager and truly a huge fan).

This is a perfect example of you making me sound like a hundred times better of a writer than I actually am because I legitimately do not remember who she pretended to stab in the gut and I also thought you were going to say ‘wouldn’t it have been kinda funny if she actually stabbed him and he died gurgling in shock’ and was ready to enthusiastically agree.

On a different note: “Wouldn’t you like to know.” / He’d very much like to know. How does one create such sexual tension in one small exchange? Big oof again.

Honestly this makes my life because I always feel like I’m SO BAD at getting these mood whiplash lines to pack enough punch. Like they always do in my head when I can see the delivery and the camera shot and whatnot, but when I write it I’m always like ‘eh. I mean. I guess’. TRUST YOURSELVES FRIENDS.

Bamon in the Bathroom

First off: “In my defense, you goaded me into playing” / “Yeah, well in my defense, I didn’t know I was releasing the fucking Kraken”. L O L

Bonnie’s winning – “But hey, a win was a win, right?” – I love it. Never underestimate Bonnie Cutthroat-Competition Bennett!

“You’re kind of a maniac, you know that?” paired so deliciously with “Didn’t say I wasn’t a maniac, too.” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I think I forgot how much I loved bamon and all their goodness? Especially your version. Ahhhh!

“You know, for a doctor, you’re really bad for my health.” Bad for your heart! ‘Cause she’s got it racing! Oooo, burn!

That’s such a Kai line I’m dying.

Bonnie getting all defensive and going off about how she doesn’t mind “being the person that someone needs at the end of the day” (serious Stefan vibes, doesn’t he say this at one point also?), and Damon being all, like, heart-eyes and shit, calling her ‘surprising’ and stuff. Good content, yes, yes, please continue.

Ooo, didn’t even make that parallel between Stefan and Bonnie (because I am, in fact, a garbage author) but it’s so cool that you bring that up because on Stefan, that line can easily sound a little self-aggrandizing - it’s coming from (again) a place of privilege, of playing the hero because he’s had this charmed life and it’s the right thing to do, but from Bonnie, it’s almost the exact opposite. She didn’t have that growing up. She was the person without anyone in her corner. So with her, it’s not a hero complex, it’s a victim-turned-survivor motivation. I feel like I’m being really mean to Stefan in these responses lmao I gotta back off, I adore that kid. Just keepin’ it real. 

“Maybe I’ve handled enough” in a playfully dramatic way, and yet, Bonnie’s full realization that (the man of her dreams) Damon probably has been through enough, and she knew what that was like. Sad boy hours.

Sad boy days.

Bonnie avoiding tension by returning to tending to his wound, Damon avoiding tension by returning to his sexy-mysterious-guy vibes. I almost titled this “SMA and the Many, Many Ship Parallels”.

The whole scene that I shall call “I go by daddy, actually” which is just vague enough to make me laugh wildly in this library full of undergrads studying for finals—and because the scene is so ridiculous and hilarious and so, so Bamon, I will die cackling.

I’m brainstorming ways to bring more ‘daddy’ energy into chapter 18.

Belavafore

“Why are you like this?” / “We’re embracing the great outdoors!” Use what he loves against him, honey, you’re doing great.

“Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.” / “No, you’re not.” / “No, I’m not.” / “Would it help if I said I’m proud of you? … I really am.”

I love how much lighter Steroline has become. Like Caroline just casually throwing the responsibility of “Go for it” / “Forgive yourself for something” to Stefan is so… unlike her. I feel like she’s the type that shows people up whenever they’re afraid to do something, like tell their waitress this is not what they ordered. Because that’s exactly it. This whole forgiving themselves thing was not what Caroline ordered- just a side of cheesy jokes on Stefan.

GIRL YOU AND ME BOTH, I was so tired of writing their tension oh my Gooooooodsicles. I basically spent sixteen chapters trying to earn the ability to write them this light and this comfortable and this open with each other so I SAW MY CHANCE AND TOOK IT.  

“I can’t believe we’re listening to happy4eva dot com.” / “We’re not, we’re listening to me” / “Is that any better?” I agree with Caroline and am fully happy to admit I am in love with Stefan’s sass.

“Some of us are capable of taking this seriously” / “What makes you think I wasn’t serious about the printer ink?”

Leash him.

Caroline’s “Here was all she needed to be” realization and acceptance is giving me so much life, I’m teeming with so much love and pride and straight up inspiration, dude, bless.

Caroline’s cathartic sobbing, and Stefan’s, “I think you might be forgiving yourself.” My whole heart is just FULL and maybe I TOO started crying, YOU CANNOT PROVE ANYTHING.

Filed under: scenes I wrote horribly the first few times and still was not convinced I got right by the time I finally posted it so thank God it made someone feel something because ya girl was skressed.

Bonnie going onto the fire escape without coat or shoes, despite hating the cold, just to be there for Caroline, to hug her and be happy for her forgiveness journey is the most Bonnie thing, and I am living for it.

Tag-line for Damon: “She could always count on Damon to be a shithead”.

Bonne saying her date was horrible, Damon mentioned Kai still being present – so mom and dad of them! Did I mention this in a previous review? Maybe. Ugh, I love them so much, I don’t mind if I ramble the same few things about it and your incredible writing of them.

Baroline deciding for the boys ‘this is something we are doing’. *arc snap* love it!

<3

“You jump, I jump, Jack.” I’ll be honest with ya, when I first read this, I was like, dude I love you madly but it feels a little too late to bring this friendship quirk up in here, but then I was like, who the fuck says? You did a great job explaining the context of it, and I love it! Please bring it back! You know, when you write more…

LMFAO no girl I thought the exact same thing, so much so that I went back and edited it into the chapter where Bonnie apologizes to Caroline after her bender. It was totally too late to introduce but I was like ‘I don’t really know what else to put here so we’re gonna pretend this has always been a thing, join me friends in this who cares revisionist approach to writing’.

Steroline being protective of Bonnie’s feelings paralleling with Damon’s protectiveness of Bonnie’s physical wellbeing. It’s just much like, ‘I’m not good at the emotions thing, may I offer you a blanket and some boots instead?” Very in-character of him, this is good, good stuff.

YES, exactly what I was going for! I feel like my entire reaction to your review is either going to be YES EXACTLY YOU WORDSMITH or ACTUALLY I AM FAR TOO DUMB TO HAVE DONE THAT ON PURPOSE BUT I LOVE IT LET’S GO WITH IT.

Bonnie using the ‘you were mean to me’ to get Damon to participate!!!

Caroline’s only known Damon for a month?????? This would make sense, a little, but also it feels like so much longer. (this isn’t me side-eyeing the author, she’s busy and doing important things, but also…)

😂😂😂😂

Bonnie’s prompting of Damon, “And?” felt very much like when you’re at the doctor’s office, and they’re listening to your heart, and they’re prompting you to take a deep breath “again” and quiet and waiting. Was this on purpose? Even his “how many do I have to do?” and her “Just one more.” Feels very much like when they’re in the bathroom, and he’s being a literal child under her medical care.

This definitely falls under the ‘not smart enough to have done that on purpose but I love it so let’s go with it’ category.

“Fuck you world, I’m perfect!” inspired by our resident sociopath (who has no regrets, naturally lol). LOVE. It really aligns with Caroline’s “here” realization, and later, Damon’s “okay, noted” response. It’s kinda messy of them, considering they’re clearly not, but the acceptance and willingness to say, fuck you world, I don’t need to conform to whatever, is so nice. So, so good. So much growth. And the title name-drop! And all of them cheering one another on (especially Stefan)!

“…Damon sasses, making Bonnie’s bright laugh even louder, and in that exact moment, with Damon’s hand caught in some kind of Z-snap and Bonnie gasping for air and Stefan’s eyes crinkled from the size of his grin, she felt something shift for her… And looking at the laughing faces surrounding her, their movements arrested in some kind of vibrant slow-motion, the glint of the flurrying snow around them like magic, she couldn’t help but think that it had to be something good.” (okay maybe now I will admit to more crying).

Kai vs the Neighbor and Caroline’s realization of ‘this guy is crazy I like him’. She doesn’t like a cat, but Kai, she’s here for. “That was amazing!” / “Thanks! I still don’t understand you.” love it!

I think I’ve edited this scene (what don’t I edit) since you read it but I think all the parts that stood out to you were ones I mostly kept the same, so that makes me really happy. I had a blast writing it, particularly Kai vs. The Neighbor and everyone just giving in to hedonistic self-acceptance for that one, sparkling minute. It felt needed and I’m so glad it seemed to trigger all the right emotions. 

Scrabble, Backstories, THE Kiss

I know this is not what I was supposed to take away from this, but I like Bonnie’s dark moments, lol. Like her joke about her mom not being around. Like, it makes her more real. Like Stefan’s sass makes him more real. No one is just the One Trait that ‘defines’ them, whatever the fuck that means.

I love writing those moments. I talked about this a few paragraphs up, but a big part of why I love writing Bonnie and Damon is exactly those moments - the ones where she can make a joke about her absentee mom and Damon can laugh at the idea of Kai assassinating them. They need that. They need to be able to do that. It doesn’t feel real to me otherwise. It doesn’t feel special, you know? Why are they so drawn to each other if not for precisely that? Their ability to be every part of themselves around each other - the hopeful parts, the selfish parts, the angry parts, the vulnerable parts - is what makes them tick the most, so I’m excited I’ve gotten to the point in their development where they can do that. There’s a scene pretty early in chapter 18 where they have another one of those moments, where Bonnie lets Damon get this sort of ugly/twisted glimpse at her that she’s hiding from everyone else, and she does it with this casualness that I really enjoyed writing. She’s not afraid of judgement. She’s not afraid of what he’s going to think. She knows he gets it, and he does, and it’s simple but I think it means so much more than grand gestures or big sex scenes do for them (but those are fun too lol).

Aw Damon wanting to know more about Bonnie. We see a lot of Bonnie’s curiosity about Mr. Enigma, but he’s embarking on this conversation without really knowing where it’d go or what he wants from it.

That’s a big shift that’s carrying into 18 - Damon’s officially starting to get hooked. It’s been so fun writing him in this shifting context of developing confusing feelings because he’s kind of a disaster about it - especially because Bonnie’s distracted by all the Steroline drama so she’s not even full cognizant of it. 

Wow, why am I just noticing this: “He thought about the fire escape, about the things she’d claimed to forgive herself for, and dwelled in the awareness that they’d all been just as performative as his” !!!! excuse me! NOT OKAY. I guess they haven’t had the chance to talk it out like Steroline did, and maybe that’s part of the reason it was more difficult to jump onto the forgiveness train right away.

Yeah, they still have a long way to go. Honestly, I don’t even know if forgiveness really fits what they need. Bamon strikes me more as just needing to accept themselves, and I think being able to accept each other so casually and completely will play a big role in that. 

“He wasn’t sure when she’d started taking up actual real estate in his thoughts, but it was kind of a disorienting realization.” !!!

“He used to let himself feel every last lick of it [his anger], blistering and white-hot… it’d bite and fester at the inside of his skin till it wore itself out slowly bled out of his pores” that’s good stuff there, dude, great description.

“That was all before he’d met Katherine, though. Before she’d shown him how to turn it all of instead.” Nice nod to that dumpster fire of canon. Datherine was such an interesting thing that could have been cool. The debauchery, honestly, instead of Damon desiring to be ‘good’ or some shit.

I honestly don’t even remember their canon dynamic and I think it’s probably better that way.

“She’d moved on from the question. He’d had an out. But for some reason, he had this weird, anxious feeling, like an opportunity was flashing past him and he didn’t want to just let it. So he kept going.” We stan character development and growth. You go, baby!

I wonder what it was like for Damon, to re-testify. Was he all shelled-up, the Damon who jokes his way through, who doesn’t give a single fuck about anything, or was he Lily’s scared son, traumatized and hurt, unable to make eye-contact or even lift his head during his testimony?

I think he was forcibly numb to the whole thing until he saw her. Probably being sarcastic under oath, acting like this was a waste of his time, but distinctly edgier than usual. I don’t think he was planning on seeing her and I don’t think he was even supposed to, given the whole witness protection thing, but knowing Lily, she probably dreamed up a way to make sure she was being transported at the exact moment she knew he’d be there, and seeing her and how entirely unchanged, unrepentant, undulled she was after seventeen years, daring to look at him like a project she was coolly proud of, just flipped him out a little. 

“She looked protective./ He wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked protective of him before.” AHHHHHHH.

Once you have a Gryffinpuff in your corner there’s no shaking them.

Damon’s “Here” paralleling to Caroline’s “Here”. Two sides of the same coin, though. Caroline’s “here” was liberating and existing meant so much for her, but Damon’s “here” is just existing, not feeling or holding on to anything.

Okay, I will admit this one I did on purpose.

“Kai could probably kill them both if we asked.” Dark!Bonnie, yas queen, slay!

“They didn’t just ‘happen’ / “I did them. I actively ruined those people’s lives.” I know it seems like I’m grasping here, but this just really seems to echo Caroline’s speech to Stefan, that Elena made choices. Bonnie made choices too. Does this mean Elena is just as redeemable as Bonnie is? Stay tuned to probably never find out.

Elena Redemption Arc 2029

Damon: “In fact, it’s [accepting the ‘bad’ parts of her] not going to change you at all—they’re already part of you, they’ve always been part of you. I’m not saying they’re shiny or pretty but honestly, fuck shiny and pretty.” Stefan’s rejection of Elena’s ‘darkness’, Damon’s acceptance of Bonnie’s ‘non-shiny, non-pretty’ elements. I’m just saying dude, conscious or subconscious—your Inner Writer is doing amazing, sweetie, please keep it up forever, thanks.

“Goodness wasn’t default coded into you but having some perfect life that never tempted you to be anything else.” / “To me, that’s a hell of a lot prettier and shinier than someone who never had ugly as an option.” *sings quietly* Tell me how I’m supposed to breathe with no air? 

lmfaoooo why do your expressions always murder me

‘I’m too tired to be funny’ fuck you this entire review is either poignant af or hilarious I was ill-prepared I was MISLED

“Your desperation to paint me out as some kind of reluctant hero is your real flaw—in fact, that should be the part of yourself you’re ashamed of.” OKAY THEN STOP BEING ONE

He’s so dumb. And we haven’t even gone into the Tyler arc. 

Baroline quoting Defan to throw their own words back at them like ninja stars, pinning them to their words’ truths.

We love a good Pin The Truth Bomb on the Idiot game.

 “I’m just saying there’s a chance you aren’t a complete supervillain.” / “I’d be a great supervillain.”

(I just had an overwhelming sense of maybe, someone in this very library, could be a SMA fan also. How wild would that be???)

I wrote this HP fanfic a long time ago that got weirdly popular and someone once left a review saying they saw someone else reading the new update at the airport and they ended up talking about it together for a little while and it was the greatest moment of my entire life

“He wasn’t sure what made him do it. Wasn’t sure if it was a pride thing, a contrarian thing, or a product of whatever weird mindfuck of a thing had been brewing between them over the course of the night, but before he even knew what was happening, he slid his hands up her face and caught her mouth in a swift, deliberate counterargument.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Damon’s analysis of Bonnie: more exclamation marks

“And that even without the varnish, even with all bitterness and fear and anxiety bursting through his cracks like light, he was worth seeing.” Actual tears in my actual eyes. I am not a crier, Gabi, what have you done

He’s a love-starved stray, LOVE HIM. PET HIM. 

Bonnie being all weirded out by the intimacy of the kiss, Damon apologizing about it, “He felt a flicker of resentment over the charm of her awkwardness.”

“If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was the beginnings of another panic attack.” It’s the knife! (you know the Vine where the kid is running alongside a pool, and the woman behind the camera says, “what’cha got there?” and the kid is like “a knife!” and she’s like “no!” that’s this.)

I’M DEAD.

INEVITABLE. BOOM.

LOOK AT ALL THOSE CHICKENS

Steroline and the Case of the Heart-Eyes

“Laughing on that fire escape was the happiest he thought he’d ever seen her.”

Stefan being unable to deal with Caroline’s weirdo silence. Being nervous and worried about it, being super boyfriendy without actually noticing it. Him finally, full out, asking her what’s her deal.

“I’m out of reasons.” It’s so simple, yet so awwwww inducing.

Stefan going into straight up panic mode is so hilarious to me, even though it’s supposed to be more on the serious side lol. Like, I can just imagine Paul Wesley’s scrunched face, pushing away, avoiding any sort of physical interaction—and I’m cackling.

oh my God now I’m cackling

why is he like that

lmao I just see eyebrows I can’t

“I’m not that guy.” / “I’m the guy who can barely breathe right now because of the smell of your shampoo / who literally can’t open his eyes because if I look at you right now, I’m going to kiss you / who’s a few involuntary stares away from having the exact pattern of your freckles memorized—in fact, I honestly might already. Six on the right, six of the left, rebel freckle.” My heart. Gabi, stoppppp! I didn’t even ship this ship before SMA!

He writes his Boy Scout-ass self blame him.

“I’m pretty sure what makes me happy is you.” I cry so many tears. “I think I might finally be at the point where I’m more scared of missing out on that than I am of what letting it in might do.”

“His heart began humming in his throat at the way she was looking at him.”

“The hope in her eyes grabbed his stupid heart but its stupid heart throat and why the hell did he even pretend he had any actual choice in any of this?” There you go, buddy, finally getting with the program. A parallel to Bamon, and Damon’s wtf is happening to me caring about this cupcake of a person?

“No banning of the full spectrum of human emotion.” / “Do your worst, Disney prince.” / “Don’t know if you can handle that.”

Another artful sex scene. I know they’re not your Fav to write, but you do a real good job. Especially for these two and this moment of it being Real.

Bless, I just never know how they’re going to come across. So easy for them to feel cheesy. Glad this one didn’t tip too far into that territory. 

Caroline’s “No” and Stefan’s “a soundless projection of determination so palpable it bent the air into a word.”

“Her eyes were mosaics, art made out of jagged pieces – chipped trust and cracked pride glued together into something flawed and lovely.” Stefan has ruined every romantic thing for me. Thanks, bud.

He sucks.

Caroline’s ‘shift’ (which I am now just realizing she refers to as ‘a lock snapping undone’; giiiiiiiirl) and Stefan’s “and he felt the knife go straight through his gut.”

I can’t read that metaphor now without thinking about her legit stabbing him like a black widow and just completely 180ing this into a slasher fic.

Bonnie and the Contract

Short scene, yes. Bonnie’s absentmindedness, not just because of Damon, but because she doesn’t have eyes for this lol. It’s so casual how you described it too, “just some clothes, abandoned mugs, scatter of papers”, the usual, ya know, nothing to see here lol. Damon’s attempt to keep her from looking at the contract. Like, he was all mischief and trickery a few days ago, waiting for this very moment, and now, he’s all ‘oh uh you may wanna….’ tongue-tied. Short scene, yes. Great cliff-hanger, absolutely. Awesome way to close off what felt like whole movie worth of content? A million percent yes, sign me up for more!

Writing it def felt like a whole movie’s worth of content lmao so getting to that short, final, zippy cliffhanger scene was glorious. Felt like delivering a placenta. Like I’d already birthed the thankless succubus of a baby and all I needed now was the placenta I barely had to push to get out, you know? This metaphor got lowkey gross but fun fact one of the women whose placenta I delivered in OB wanted to keep it so her and her husband could eat it and I was like coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool.

Okay, so this is a monster of a review for a masterpiece of a chapter (100+ pages, right?). Coupling happy and silly scenes with these intense confessions was amazing, and your fear of the emotional scenes not clicking is unwarranted! You’re truly a phenomenal writer, and I know I tell you all the time, but you need to hear it always and forever! I was recently telling my sister writing is my actual passion, and by the way in which you write, it seems like it’s, at least, one of your passions too. Like yeah, medicine is gonna be great, you’re gonna be awesome, and maybe I too will be successful as a therapist, but your passion and talent shines through your writing. YOU! ARE! GREAT! TRULY!

I will not apologize for such a long review, like I always do (13 pages babyyy), but I will apologize for basically rewriting the chapter in this review. I tried my best to simplify and summarize, but bro, so! many! good morsels of gorgeous similes and metaphors and descriptions and dialogue, and did I mention I am in love with your characters? your writing? your goddamn brain? Lol.

(Okay, I think I’m done. This took me almost three weeks to write.)

I truly hope you’re doing well, and if you’re writing, YAS, but if you’re not, you know what? You do you, girl, slay in whatever you’re doing. I am your support! I am your cheerleader! I’m here to bolster any sort of feeling you need! Love ya, toodles ;)

(If you’re new here and you got to the end of this review, hey I’m Cassandra, and you’ve made the best decision to read this fic. Gabi, look away, you’re not supposed to see my gushing about your story yet again. You, Reader, good on ya!)

Girl, I don’t even know what to say at this point. Your reviews are always just so lovely, so funny, so thoughtful, so insightful, so goddamn smart - I’m honored to have you as a reader, dude. Truly. Knowing you’re going to be reading challenges me to write better (and that’s actually true of a lot of you, if you’re reading this!). I adore having your therapist brain reading this, too, because it’s such a character-driven story and I’m writing about a lot of things I’ve never actually been through but have done my best to inhabit, and having your perspective is so wonderful. You find the motivations and you see the dimensionality and half the time your reviews actually give me ideas because you see things I don’t. So basically, all of this to say thank you. I adore you. You’re wonderful. And the one good thing about having taken so friggin’ long to post this response that I AM ACTUALLY WRITING lmao, and despite your busy life of saving people’s sanity and BEING FRIGGIN’ MARRIED, I hope you are, too! Love ya, babe. This was so kind. You’re a universe. 

[worstfruit]

Okay so i reworked this using bastardized doric, which i intend to lessen over time but i think its still a bit much

The tower wasn’t anything like what Gwen had anticipated. It was far too kempt for starters, and though it was deep within the woods outside of town, it was still just sitting out in a clearing. A bit too obvious for her liking.

And yet, on the opposite end of the spectrum it was far too subtle. There were no twisting vines or dead trees. No heads on pikes, no ribcages or femurs strung up on display. In her experience, that meant a trap. Dazzle camouflage—hiding in plain sight with how garishly cute the garden was. She’d never met a wizard who grew chamomile. But even after waiting and watching and sneaking around every angle, Gwen hadn’t triggered any sort of trip wire nor spotted even an open archere in the stone. There was a locked cellar just around the back, next to the small plot of tilled soil. The lock looked rusted to hell, likely from disuse. The garden, though brimming with wildflowers, was a bit out of order as well, and Gwen had to wonder if anyone even lived inside the tower. Still, it did meet the description the locals gave her (an unassuming but old stone pillar erected in the forests southeast of Backwater), and was exactly where the bandits said it would be (a clearing found left of a fresh deer carcass a short distance off the path’s second fork, the side with the big boulder).

She’d been a paladin long enough to learn that if it walked like a duck, and sounded like a duck, then it was probably a duck. Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at the moment, Gwen was in quite the pickle. Not three weeks prior had she been ousted from her Temple and indefinitely suspended of knighthood by her order. Taking down a necromancer, one that had alluded authorities for over 6 months, would be just the kind of deed she needed to get back in good graces.

Gwen readied her sword and stepped towards the stone structure, still anticipating some sort of magical barrage. An explosion, maybe even just a ‘hey you!’ But as she made her way up to the dry rotted entrance door, there was nothing.

Based off reports, she was half expecting hell itself. A fortnight prior to her expulsion, the temple formally briefed a number of paladins on the mission, recounted ongoing complaints of dug up graves, missing corpses, and robberies from the town of Backwater. It was a small and poor little stop along the way to Capitol; one of the few human villages between the Mission and High Elf territory, mostly used as a last minute night’s stay or provision pick up.

Tangent reports of missing cattle, children, and even the infirm were lumped together due to how small the townships outside of Backwater were. The bandits, who had tried to ambush her during her initial trek through the woods, informed Gwen of an elderly spell caster who conjured demons and brimstone from his own hands. The Backwater locals’ descriptions varied from vampiric in nature, down to common thugs, but all stories had a few principle things in common: he was old, he was in the woods, he worked with fire, he lived in a tower, and was evil. Taking in the scenery before her, Gwen sized it up. She certainly was at a tower in the woods.

For a moment, her manners almost got the better of her and she raised a gloved hand to knock. Thinking better, she gently pushed against the arched door to find it unlocked. It was ill fitted for the doorway, shrunken with age and it glided without touching the threshold.

Generally, necromancers were known to have a penchant for decay, dilapidation, just a general unkemptness that this tower absolutely did not have. The interior was lackluster to say the least; a bit old but otherwise rather mild in all regards. The floors were rugged with some dust in the corners, the stairs narrow but clearly well used, and there was even a small boiler with a little shitty kettle atop. Keeping her hands on the hilt of her blade, Gwen continued onwards, taking gentle steps so that her sabatons did not clack too loudly against the cobbled floors. She used to rugs to muffle her steps, stretching her short gait to match their haphazard patterns. She noticed a number of odds and ends befitting of her grandmother more so than a necromancer; things like doilies and little dried out gourds with sad little faces painted on them, a cracked tea cup here and there, some with tea leaves wet at the bottom. Still—Gwen had been spurned too many times to assume, perhaps the wizard was an elderly woman, or perhaps it was all a ruse. Cute or not, she had a job to do and a reputation to save.

 Doing her best to ignore all the warning signs (or, lack thereof), Gwen pressed onwards, towards the spiraling stairwell. There were a few tomes laying about. She stooped to flip through one, noting that while the contents weren’t strictly of a necromantic nature, they were still damning nonetheless. Poison herbs and writing on anatomy, charts of stars and moon phases, a grimoire here and there and even one on exotic animals.

The stairs were lined with melted wax, an odd wick here and there sticking out like stray hairs on a bald man’s head. The tower, save the open door and natural sunlight pouring in from the top, was poorly lit and only so large; though there was no apparent latch door-- there may have been a basement along with the cellar; there was really nowhere else to go quietly but up. Even the archeres were boarded up with odd bits of rays poking through and spilling onto the bumpy walls and cracked wood; it made her ascent a bit difficult but Gwen was nothing in not cautious. She waited long enough for her eyes to adjust to the shadows before pressing onwards.

The next level was even more cramped than the first, and more of a resting area than an actual floor. Gwen froze just as her line of sight passed over a step and into the room—just around the curved corner of the tower’s central support pillar (a massive, cylindrical oak beam), there was a chair. Tartan fabric, frayed, with feather filling coming out about the seams and around the corners, but atop the chair sat…something. It was small, maybe the size of a medium hound, greenish skin and a shock of red hair and cloth curled around itself. She couldn’t quite understand the anatomy if it from the glimpse she got before concealing herself behind the beam, just that it was alive and likely asleep.

Gwen peaked back around just to confirm her suspicions. The beast was tiny and most definitely asleep. Oddly enough, it was also clothed in what appeared to be a little cloak, fit for a child. She could identify its head, its long and pointed nose, two bat like ears and two giant, but closed eyes. It breathed in a gentle rhythm, clawed paws and feet tucked by its side much the way the temple’s pet cat curled up on Gwen’s bed some nights. It resembled a sand imp, ghastly little creatures all wrinkles and teeth. She didn’t want to wake it up to find out if it had the very same fangs.

Next to the chair was a small rickety stool with a book atop, and on top of the book was a half-eaten apple, already yellowing. She looked as far as she could upwards. There was enough of a ceiling for her to guess the third floor was a bit more substantial. As quietly as she could, Gwen moved her foot upwards. She hesitated placing it down unto the next step; if the creature was anything like a sand imp, she did not wish to wake it. Even before she finished her step, she saw its ears twitch. Perhaps this was the warlock’s familiar, and perhaps she was lucky to have caught it sleeping on guard duty.

Rather than continuing upwards, Gwen considered her options. The thing was small. It would be a but a stain on her long sword. But, if it really was some sort of fucked up, green sand imp (perhaps it was rabid or jaundiced), then it was probably fast. Their claws were nasty and they were just intelligent enough to know exactly were to slide them between the seams of plate armor. It’s almost as if they were completely willing to die, just so long as they could make you bleed, even just a little. They had zero regard for their own safety, no sense of reasoning, and no hesitation. It would be like a setting off an alarm bell for sure; loud creatures they were. She hated them more than feral, rabid rats, and while she would surely be able to take one (yet alone a puny, runty, sleeping one), she would rather not.

Which brought her to the next option. The creature all but confirmed the identity of the tower’s primary inhabitant. What sort of old woman would live with a pet sand imp? And, by law, familiars and death magick were strictly prohibited and punishable by, well, death. Love or hate the elves, they had a moral code she could agree with.

Gwen didn’t like to play executioner often, but for her own sake, she was strongly considering the alternative to continuing forward to confront the villain-- which was to go back to town, rile up the locals, gather a shit ton of wood and hay and oil and slow burning lards, and light the sucker up.

 Nodding resolutely to herself, Gwen slowly, ever so carefully turned to head back down the stairs. She was feeling pretty pleased with her decision making, a bit clever too (she had found the tower after all, and could report the deed back to her temple even if she wasn’t the one to personally kill the necromancer. The townspeople would think her a hero and she would be allowed back into the Order, surely), until the very same little, shitty kettle she had spotted earlier flew right past her head. Gwen didn’t even have a chance to duck. It clattered against the stone wall loudly, spewing scalding hot water and steam all about. Thankfully, her armor caught the brunt of it, though a few flecks nipped at the nape of her exposed neck and she felt a painful flush of wet air blossom against her cheek and eye. Without hesitating she lunged forward and tackled the offender. She didn’t have of a chance to get much of a glimpse besides a hunched cloak and some white hair.

 Her shoulder made contact and the two hit the floor, Gwen’s plate and mail pealing against the stone like a muffled bell. She flipped herself over to throw him to the side so she could land face up. Whoever had attacked her fell by her side with a dull thud. She used the pause to grab at her sword and roll over so that it was against them in a warning. Gwen miscalculated this move, however, and instead of holding the sword to their throat, her adrenaline and weight forced her forward much more quickly than she had intended. The blade plunged into the figure’s middle like a paring knife into a mushy peach. She heard a weak ‘oof’, before she felt the give of steel against flesh. It took a moment for it to register that both of them had stopped moving.

She clambered away and regained her footing using the boiler to stand fully. The ‘necromancer’ was on the floor, staring at the ceiling with glassy, bloodshot eyes. It was an impossibly old man, clean shaven and white like porridge. He wore a fuzzy purple cloak and a blue, linen nightgown beneath. His middle was a burgeoning blossom of bright red, two sinewy legs poking out from beneath his sheer gown and thick robe, twitching in a way that reminded Gwen, once again, of the little black cat that slept at the foot of her bed back at the temple.

 Remembering the sand imp, Gwen gasped and turned towards the stairs waiting for another attack. Instead, she saw the green thing poking its head around the corner, clutching the empty tea kettle to its chest and staring at Gwen with big, yellow eyes. Just like the temple cat, Pitch.

Neither she nor the creature moved. Instead it moved it’s eyes from Gwen to the dead old man and back a few times, before finally opening its mouth (to which Gwen could see that it indeed had sand imp teeth) and saying “Is ye the witch?”

The last thing Gwen expected to hear was a voice. Words, intelligible common! It even cocked its head, clearly surprised, clearly afraid, clearly upset but otherwise completely unmoving.

She didn’t answer. She was stooped, breathing heavy, and unsure how to even answer the question. So instead she stood up straight and opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked to the freshly dead man on the floor for an answer. Receiving none, she looked back to the imp and cocked her own head back it. “What?” was all she could muster, though the incredulity in her voice certainly carried other questions. The imp, a he based off the voice, which was scratchy and a bit high (yet so clearly NOT a child, she would have to hear it again to confirm how oddly inhuman yet…human it sounded) adjusted its stance in a way that suggested he was reminding himself of where he was.

 “Ah. Er, Ah mean ye. He.” The imp pointed to the man with a shaky claw and let out a short, desperate kind of laugh, and then spoke so quickly that Gwen almost didn’t catch it, “Vern aye says the witch he mairriet fair go cum ben back fur his heid een day, sae, is ye her? The witch?” He retracted his hand and used it to clutch the kettle even tighter to his chest. “Ye're gonnae kill me neist? Gonnae get me head too!?”

 Gwen didn’t get the chance to answer or even ask for clarification; the imp seemed to realize his own words and swallowed them faster than he had said them, and without any warning, he chucked the kettle, as hard as his little twiggy arms could, directly at Gwen.

This time she didn’t have the chance to duck.

Gwen saw stars. The kettle was cast iron, and the imp was stronger than she gave it credit for. It connected with her forehead and sent her sprawling back against the tower’s wall with another clang. Gwen threw her hands to her face, cursing loudly and sliding senselessly against the wall and floor as she tried and failed to gain purchase. The wet rugs bunched at her sabatons and the tea kettle kept getting caught underfoot and rolling her backwards. She heard, rather than saw, all four of his clawed feet scuttling up the stairs like a frightened dog beneath the sounds of her own struggle. With a scream, Gwen kicked the rugs free of her feet and the kettle clean across the room, shoving herself upright. The paladin screwed her eyes shut and threw her sword down.

“Come back down here!” she screamed, stepping over ‘Vern’s’ body so she could reach the stairs. She wasn’t expecting an answer. “I won’t hurt you!” Gwen added in a much quieter voice. That was partially true, she wanted to ask the thing questions, and generally liked to refrain from violence if it could be helped. Unfortunately for Gwendoline, it could rarely be helped, and her entire face was smarting. She waited a beat for a response and then began trudging up the stairs, ignoring the dull throb emanating from the impact zone throughout her entire head.

The chair she had seen earlier was empty, and she continued upwards to the third level, all the while speaking in as calm but loud a voice she could manage through grit teeth; “I need to know more about Vern, he may have been a very bad man! Let me ask you some questions, please, and I won’t take anyone’s head!”

The third floor was a bit less boring than the first two. The walls were covered by a bookcase, the wooden panels following the curve of the stone walls behind them. Each shelf was full of knick knacks and dust. Jagged chunks of crystal and spindly plant stems with fuzzy leaves, bird and fish and rat bones, metal instruments and trinkets and tubes set up in between all of the books. The shelves broke in the center of the room, an arched little cove cut into them where an oil lamp hung unlit. Beneath was a small table with various, incriminating things on it, like mortars and pestles and scales, all kinds of little glass vials and broken bottles, quills in dried inkwells. Enough to convince any layman of Vern’s profession, surely.

There was a latch door on the ceiling, but the rope ladder attached to it hadn’t been completely unfurled; instead it hung limply so that the rope was in a loose coil, stuck against the nail lock. The thing was still in the room.

Next to the stair entrance on Gwen’s right was a sad little bedroll, not even a cot, with bits of hay sticking out bellow the fur blanket on top of it. The blanket had a lump beneath it, and the lump seemed to have a long, pointed nose attached.

Even assuming it was out of tea kettles, Gwen didn’t want to alarm it. Instead of addressing the lump, she simply spoke with a steady, but softer voice, to the room at large.

“I am sorry if he was your friend, imp. I. I did not intend to…end his life. Honestly. He caught me by surprise. I am a paladin from the Order of Fragan’s Templar, to the north of Backwater. I was tasked to…investigate reports of a necromancer terrorizing the woods surrounding Backwater and the road to Capitol. I truly mean you no harm, so long as you intend none in return.”

The lump stirred, poking a claw out so that the fur could be pulled back to reveal a narrowed, yellow eye. This time, his voice was more level, accusatory even, than afraid.

“Seems like a gayand quick in-inspectigation.”

“Investigation. I was attacked.” Gwen bit back.

“Ah didnae hear ye cum ben in. Didnae hear anyain let ye in.”

“You were asleep. The door was open; I didn’t hear anyone behind me!” Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose, “I entered just to talk, but since it was dark I was on alert. I was told this man was very dangerous. I saw you and. Well, I became frightened!” She paced forward and stood before the bedroll, using a foot to kick the fur clean away from the imp. He remained bent over, looking up at her. “So, you are Vern’s…familiar? He was a practitioner of some sort, I see.” Gwen gestured to the room around her.

The imp sat up onto its knees, still staring up all small and pathetic.

“A wis his slae.” He said, simply. He seemed to chew the rest of her words over but remained silent otherwise.

“Slae-slave? Was he practicing the dark path?” She asked after a moment. The imp shot her a questioning look. “Necromancy! A wicked pact with some malignant force?” Gwen pressed.

“Uh, he. Ye mean, the witch? Fit path? The wids?”

“Did he raise the dead? Was your master some sort of evil wizard, or otherwise unlawful caster? Did he rob graves, steal towns children and sacrifice animals, consort with the spirits and the like? And please, annunciate this time.”

The imp seemed to understand this and nodded slowly, placing a claw to his lower lip.

“Nay, Ah dinnae think sae.” He adjusted himself to stand and crossed his arms over his chest as if he were self-conscious in regards to what he was about to say, “He mostly wrote mince doon in, uh, in books fur fowk fa  couldnae reid. They’d pey him tae scrieve a lot, or make tae make queer balms an sic, stuff thon smellit odd or brunt bricht in jars, an sometimes he e’en conjured portals!” He relaxed a bit as he explained, seemingly distracted with his own tale, moving his hands about, “Or skin a coney--”

“A coney?” She had to pause this time around, though she initially noticed he talked a bit oddly, she hadn’t heard him say enough to catch the accent. Even still, it wasn’t familiar. Mostly understandable, when he talked slow. Perhaps similar to the Northerly elves at most, but very off.

“Jumpy fur craiter, wit the lang lugs an sic.” Fizzle mimicked whatever a coney was by grabbing at his large ears and making an unidentifiable face.

Gwen just shrugged, signaling the imp to continue.

“Deer too, but then he fair hae me skin it an take aw the coin an fur an then!? Guess on whit he dae. He’d gae an send it off tae the witch! He aye talkit aboot her! The witch! The witch I thoucht ye wis. But yer’re no? Yer’re no gyan…tae kill me, richt?” He finished, seeming to remember he wasn’t alone and looked up at Gwen like he’d just spilt milk.

Gwen found herself leaning in, even squinting as she tried to decipher just what the little creature was saying. She caught the gist of it all, up until this point, but he spoke so fast, and all of his words had a way of melting into each other, stumbling and lilting at the oddest moments. She almost wasn’t sure if it was common tongue.

She put her hand to her mouth and rubbed her upper lip. So. The man hadn’t been a necromancer. She eyed the imp a bit as it spoke. It could be lying, or perhaps not know the difference between a portal mage and a necromancer. She let his question linger in the air for a moment before regarding the creature with a sigh. Gwen at least understood that he did not want to die.

“No imp. I will spare your life.” She said, with a bit more monotony than she had intended. Had she not been so distracted with the current predicament, she might’ve found the way he perked up endearing, in a pitiful way. Like a pig spared the slaughter. But, instead, Gwen sunk to floor next to the imp (even when seated, it barely met her eye line) and pressed both hands over her mouth once more, staring straight ahead. “Vern. Vern was his name, you said?” The imp nodded. “Vern…did he have family? Friends, the like?” she asked from beneath her gauntlets.

“No…I dunno aboot the witch, bit, aside frae me an a puckle fowk, nae a body comes bi affen.”

“Fowk? Do you mean folk? The people. Like, towns people, from Backwater? Do they come often asking for things like portals and potions?”

The imp thought for a moment, his red irises rolling up to the side to regard a stray cobweb floating down in a beam of sunlight.

“Na, no anymore. Ah actually cannae remember fin we haed ane. Mebbe aroon lest hairst.”

“Huh?”

“Hairst! Neeps n pumpkins, ye ken?”

“Pumpkins.” She was losing patience. Luckily, Gwen dealt with her fair share of Northerners while posted at the wall, though the conversations were often limited to work related issues. “H-harvest? You mean the autumn, when the leaves fall?” Fizzle nodded excitedly. And in turn, Gwen nodded solemnly, then stood to pace in front of the imp. His head trailed after her movements. “Okay. Yes. We are getting somewhere, despite the clear barrier of tongues. And you, what is your name?”

“Fizzle.”

“Fizzle. Good. Yes. Were you, fond? Of Vern?”

Fizzle simply shook his head, a definite ‘NO’.

“He enslaved you, you said? Made you do things against your will and skin rabbits for no pay?”

“He foond me innae tree stump ane day an pit me innae sack! Ah was hidin an he still foond me. Ah dunno how! Ilky time Ah triit tae scowp awa faet, he wad aye track me doon an 'en dunk me intae the river till Ah cooldn’t stain it na mair!” Fizzle crossed his arms and huffed, looking away for a moment to consider his words before looking back up to the woman. “Aye, he did bad magick. But nae daith magicks.”

Gwen leaned forward excitedly, latching onto one of Fizzle’s words. “Okay, okay, so…would you perhaps say that he was a bad man? A mean man?” she asked, eyeing one of the many decorative squashes peppering the tower. It stared back at her.

“He wis mean an he lovit tae zap fin ah let kettle fussle afore fly cup. Een time he gart me boo like a bench, ower on ma hands an knees an he dane putten his feet on ma back, aw kis ah accidentally brunt his favourite stool!”

Gwen nodded eagerly as she walked around the room, and continued shaking her head to herself well after Fizzle had finished speaking. There was ample evidence supporting Vern’s ‘treachery’. From his choice in literature to the indentured servitude of a sick sand imp! Gwen was smiling to herself as she considered this: he probably enchanted the poor beast to make it sentient (and green)! She was sure the Order would not be pleased about that in the least. Truly a vile, vile man!

“Okay! Great.” She clapped her gloved hands together with a metallic smack, startling Fizzle; “Well, there we have it, my little friend! I came to investigate Vern. I followed the tips of the towns people, and two unscrupulous bandits who tried to accost me on the road here! They told me of his ways, how he had devils shooting fire from their hands. I entered his tower in search of him, just to talk! To confront him, and yet the coward attacked me without warning.” She paused her theatrics to turn and look at Fizzle, eliciting a nod from him which made her assume he was following along and compliant. “So I defended myself! And rightfully so, as I come to find, he’s put some sort of evil enchantment on you, to make you walk upright and wear clothes and speak as if you’re a regular halfling! What other forest critters he must have tortured!” Fizzle raised a brow ridge at this, but Gwen continued on, “The townsfolk will be happy to be rid of that man, of this I am certain.”

“Fit div ye mean, enhancement? On me?” he looked himself over, but saw nothing awry.

Gwen bit her lip. Was it cruel to tell a donkey it’s true nature? Certainly not if it, as donkeys ordinarily cannot understand you. But a talking donkey? Who ever heard of such a thing. Informing poor Fizzle as to what he was seemed akin to kicking a puppy begging for scraps. Needless cruelty (and Gwen had her fill of that for the day). But the imp just looked up to her, and despite her best efforts, she found herself relenting. She figured he deserved to know, and besides, she liked animals quite a lot.

“Well, you are but an imp, are you not? Never in my days have I encountered a walking, talking imp. Let alone a green one! And so far north.”

Fizzle was shaking his head before Gwen was even finished, “Am fae wye wye up north, past the waa.” Fizzle considered this for a second as he noted Gwen’s confusion, “The big, lang rock. Miekle rocks n sic! Man made.”

“The wall?”

“Aye! The waa. Vern wis buying dwarven wares n fit not, fin he fand me up near the mountains. Aire’s a lot o’ ma kin up aire. The caves an moors are ours. Belong tae us.”

“The north? The Great North, with dwarves?! I’ve never heard of sand imps living anywhere but south! In the salt flats and around the shores with those wild folk.” Now Gwen was shaking her head. “That would explain the accent, however.”

“Nae wi Dwarves, no, jis near tham. We hate dwarves an they hate us, an ah div nae ken fit the fuck an imp is, bit am a goblin, lady. A’ve nivver been faarer sooth nor here.”

“Repeat that last bit, where you just cursed at me.” Gwen asked, impassively. She was staring past the little thing, gears turning in her head trying to work out what he was saying.

“Err, Dwarves, richt? Sae, they hate me, an I hate ‘em. Dunno if they name us ‘imp’, bit Aim tellin ye, Aim a goblin.”

Gwen shook her head dismissively—semantics didn’t matter, and she was certain that whatever a ‘goblin’ called itself didn’t change the fact that it was an imp. She knew there were multiple tribes of elves who looked different enough from one another, and humans and halflings and dwarves had the tendency to range from an alabaster white to deep, rich browns and near blacks depending where they lived. Maybe sand imps weren’t just confined to the sands! Maybe they could be green?

“No matter, Fizzle, let’s just keep this between you and I. Those I answer too are not particularly fond of Northerners, and will have a much easier time understanding sand imps.” She filed away his strange account for later consideration; more important was the matter of staging the scene. Fizzle shrugged and continued to look up to her expectantly. It dawned on her that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. If the town’s excuse for law enforcement came to access the scene, they would surely want to get rid of the little guy. Gwen sort of pitied him. He had been helpful despite the kettle incident, and she didn’t exactly want to send him from his recent slavery straight to death. “But we will worry about that when the time comes. For now, I need your help.”

 Gwen was not proud of this talent, no, but she recognized it as a valuable one nonetheless.

Over years of training under Thalodin Lldewig, she had learned many ways to…suggest things. Through dress, body language, gesture, facial expression, choosing words, and perhaps most importantly, through setting up bodies of evidence (as well as literal, dead bodies) to insinuate. Certain things. Many things. In fact, according to Thalodin, you could say just about anything, without actually ever saying a word. Things that may benefit him, and keep any officials outside (or sometimes, even inside) the Order from asking too many unnecessary questions.

Gwen didn’t like to think of this as lying. She detested lying. Every time she muttered even a white lie, she could feel the eyes of her patron saint burning a hole through her, even from a young age before she ever committed herself to the Order. But again, her mentor had the unfortunate habit of stretching the truth to such a degree that he was ‘forced’ to stage the occasional ‘crime scene’ in a way that may have ‘flattered’ him more than it should have.

It was something that took Gwen quite a while to come to terms with, but eventually, it rubbed off on her. She didn’t like to steal, to cheat or lie or kill, yet situations like Vern’s had been requiring her to do just that as of late.

She thought about her recent expulsion. The shame made her stomach sink and cheeks burn bright. But then the anger set in. Gwendoline was far from perfect and she was so keenly aware of this. It didn’t bother her, if anything it was a reminder and motivation to continue striving for grace; to earn redemption and pass it along to others who needed it more. There was nothing she hated more than injustice and while she knew it was not her place to enact revenge, seeing such wild imbalances in power such as the Elven nobility or even among her own temple’s magistrate made her blood boil.

So she killed an elderly man? It was an accident, and it was done. If she was smart, it could benefit her, and even Fizzle (though admittedly, she was far less concerned about that if she were being honest.) It would quell the minds of the townspeople and perhaps scare off whatever else was lurking in the wood.

She considered these things as she dragged Vern out of the tower. Fizzle helped Gwen to locate a wax dipped tarp Vern kept in the cellar. Together, they slid the tarp beneath his body and Gwen had opted to do the heavy lifting while Fizzle focused on cleaning. Once the blood was sufficiently cleaned and the floors decent, he was to collect all of the tea cups and gourds and doilies in the tower and put them in a sack. By then, Gwen would have staged Vern’s body; dressing him up in more practical battle attire and scoring the earth around their supposed fight stage.

[comingouttoteach]

Week 17

What would have been my busiest week turned out to only be three days, but they were intense enough!

Monday: We were back in university for a day divided between two topics: job applications & interviews and the classics in the classroom (that’s some top-notch sibilance there). The contrast in these two topics was much appreciated. I was thoroughly inspired by the classics talk. At my current school KS3 have fortnightly lessons called Let’s Think in English where the teacher reads a texts, pausing at points to give information and ask questions. They then pause before the climactic moment in the text to ask key questions which are discussed in pairs then as a class. The students love these lessons as they think they aren’t doing any work HAHHAAHA little do they know. There is no writing and very little reading involved. The lesson revolves around listening and discussion; two activities which the talk on classics also celebrated. I enjoyed this talk because it helped me understand why I felt these kind of lesson/activities are so important. Firstly, two of the key skills in life that all people need are listening and discussion. Secondly, lessons which heavily involve these skills level the playing field to an extent. Lessons are so often writing focussed and, as I’m sure many teachers are aware, many students can talk the talk but sometimes can’t write the talk (..?). There are of course students whose English language skills are under-developed due to speech difficulties or having recently arrived in the country, but this doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be heard or allowed to be part of a discussion with those who are eloquent. Equality to all voices! 

Lessons taught: 1x Year 10 - ‘Afternoons’ by Philip Larkin. 3x Year 9 - Reading through Chapters 5, 6 & 7, practising essay writing skills. 1x Year 8 - Media/Film lesson on the theme of surveillance, my University Tutor observed lesson. 1x Year 7 - Planning and writing for a vlog.

That’s only 6 lessons but it felt like a lot. Unfortunately I didn’t go to any Year 12 lessons this week because in the first one they had an exam conditions essay writing lesson, the teacher was absent for the second one, and the third one would have been about right now but it’s a snow day.

Year 10: another successful lesson where most students made notes and about 30% contributed. I was doing a lot of the work though and am planning to change this pattern next lesson. I was supposed to teach Emily Dickinson’s As Imperceptibly as Grief today and I had some exciting activities up my sleeve but alas, they will have to wait until Wednesday now. I was going through the SOW that the teacher gave me and found these comments in the ‘context’ slide about E.D:

‘She is sometimes depicted as a solitary genius as she rarely left the house, but in fact she was quite sociable and often entertained visitors. 

Her poetry was only ever really about her home and the surrounding countryside.’

‘only ever really’; what a shocker!!! I have been reading Open Me Carefully this morning which is a compilation of the letters E.D sent to Susan Huntingdon Dickinson, her sister-in-law with whom she shared a ‘deeply intimate and passionate relationship’. I have since changed the comment on this slide to:

‘She is sometimes depicted as a solitary genius as she rarely left the house, but in fact she was very sociable and often entertained visitors. She had 99 correspondents over her lifetime. 

Her poetry tackles themes such as mortality, grief, freedom, faith, identity and nature.’

Safe to say I am quite excited about this lesson. 

Year 9: Animal Farm is not as exciting as I’d hoped it would be. Of course it is interesting, as an extended metaphor, a fable, a polemic; but the ‘literature’ element is secondary to it. The teacher said she had considered studying To Kill a Mockingbird with them and I think that would have challenged and engaged both them and myself more. Oh well. I introduced them to the word ‘polemic’ this week. I got them to form an opinion continuum across the room as to whether they thought Animal Farm was a fable or polemic or somewhere in between. A lot of them bunched in the middle but at least it was something a bit different for them to do!

Year 7: I just had the one lesson with them this week. I gave them a checklist - ‘features in a vlog’ - and go them to note down the features as I played a travel vlog. I paused the video at key points and got them to identify the features. It worked well. Some of them were noting down features straight away, some noted them down when I paused the video and some needed prompting/questioning in order to identify the features. I then showed them a template that they could use to write their own and set them off. They were writing these in groups of 2/3. When I went round to help them quite a few were off task. I quickly worked out that when I asked them to perform what they had so far this really spurred them on because they LOVE performing, being the centre of attention, being heard. Unfortunately I missed the lesson where they performed these to the whole class. On Monday we are in a computer room with them and I might try and record them and add images to a video. My technology skills might not be quite up to the task but I will liaise with the teacher and try my best. 

Year 8: Observation lesson! I think I benefitted from the ‘honeymoon’ period in terms of behaviour during this lesson, as I’d never taught them before. I managed to learn a surprising number of names, even the name of the boy who appeared in the room despite not being on the register or seating plan! It remains a mystery as to why he was in the room. About ten minutes in a quiet boy put his hand up and said ‘miss, he isn’t supposed to be in here.’ Luckily my AT was at hand. The boy said he’d been moved tutor groups but no one, including the class teacher, has found any evidence of this. Anyway, he stayed in the room for the duration and caused a moderate amount of disturbance. The topic for the lesson was surveillance in relation to the film The Truman Show (or if would have been in relation to this film if I’d gotten to the plenary). It was the first time I’d taught a lesson on media/film but I had read the entire SOW so far in preparation and watched some videos on Youtube about the basics of film/media classes. As I look back on it now I wish I had chosen a different topic. I just chose the next topic in the SOW but it didn’t really work in my favour. The text’s reading age was too high, I didn’t model answers to the questions I posed and I didn’t feedback from the questions. The starter/s were more successful in terms of engagement but the content didn’t quite link. I would have liked to come in with something a bit stronger and more personal for my first lesson with them. My main downfalls: I didn’t ask for help with the lesson early enough and I didn’t question the SOW provided. My goal over the next 7/8 weeks is to develop confidence in picking my own topics/ideas/activities for lesson and following through on questions like; what do I think is important? what do I think they need to know?  

Next week I really need to get on the EPS boat. My presentation for the assignment will be on questioning. I chose this topic because I really want to develop my own questioning skills and believe that in the classroom situation, great questioning makes all the difference. I am worried that I won’t be able to identify a solid question in the topic though (ironic). What is the impact of good questioning? How does good questioning affect learning? How do teachers construct questions? What kind of questioning techniques build students’ learning?  How do I measure these? A challenge. I guess I need to ask for help, and in good time. 

Onwards and upwards. I’ve got to plan, deliver and mark multiple assessments over the next two weeks and try to get my lesson plans in earlier as my bad habits aren’t proving conducive to building good relationships within the English department.. :( with whom I still do not share an office with. Oh well!

Happy snow day one and all! Please enjoy my cartoon strip of life so far in Placement 2 as a final word:

[randissimo]

I am not a backer of The Arcana but I’ve been following the Kickstarter since it was announced (though I couldn’t support it since I was broke at the time), am friends with several people who did back the Kickstarter, and played what was available of the prologue before the wheel of fortune, coins and keys were introduced, so I am pretty deeply familiar with this entire debacle. Stating this up front for the sake of transparent disclosure or whatever. (Also adding that several of my friends helped gather the information I’ll be presenting as well.)

That said, I think it’s important to clear up several misconceptions surrounding this whole debacle:

One, Nix Hydra is a successful company and not a tiny indie group. For starters, their site opens with them clearly stating they are a VC (Venture Capitalists) backed company and proceeds to show off how many newspapers covered them.

The Arcana might specifically be worked on by a two-now-four person group, with the parent company planning on hiring another writer, but they didn’t start the kickstarter because they needed the money desperately, it was to prove that there was demand for this product.

Two, getting back to Nix Hydra: As mentioned before, there are numerous articles about their success. They were covered by Forbes, which generally does not talk about small companies, and who has also included their CCO in their 30s-under-30 list, which is a fairly big deal. They have two incredibly successful games under their belt.

The first, Egg Baby, (iOS, Android) which is here:

Then, Egg!, (iOS, Android) which is even more successful:

The company is making a lot of money is my point here. (Let me stress again, at this point, that the team working on The Arcana are not Nix Hydra, but employees of the company. If you check their kickstarter page under Who’s behind the curtain, they specify they are a team of two from within the company. Please keep that in mind when reading the rest of this reply.)

Onwards to three, let’s talk about that refund. Here’s what their update says about that:

They’re refunding ten dollars for a game they promised free access to their backers, right? (And only if they request it.) And at first glance, that makes sense, particularly considering the fact they most likely can’t refund more than that unless Nix Hydra approves it, which we’ll see in the future. The root of the problem is, most of their backers paid considerably more than ten dollars to play the game. Many of them have been paying for each update because they’re not getting the free content they were promised, which means ten dollars per book that’s released, for a total of seventeen purchasable books planned, if they’re not paying for coins. That’s $170 for one character’s route, the total being over $500 for all three. The math has been calculated in detail already before. My point here, though, is that backers, who were promised free content, are paying more than they did while backing the game. That’s absolutely unreasonable and outrageous if you backed a kickstarter project.

But let’s delve deeper into this problem, because alright, they supposedly haven’t paid one hundred and seventy dollars yet because not all of the books are out, which is true. But many people are paying for coins, for options that are expensive and aren’t permanently unlocked, unlike every single other freemium game out there. Many of my friends (who backed the kickstarter, mind you) have paid upwards to $60 and more for the premium options specifically, because each option is, on average, 150 in-game coins or more, and thus they have to buy several of the coin packages offered as in-app purchases to even be able to take those options. Note that the lowest package, 100 coins for about three dollars, isn’t enough to buy one premium choice, which is absurd.

Another really pressing issue regarding the coins: The numerous glitches and bugs that the app has suffered, which result in people losing all of the coins they purchased or won through the Wheel of Fortune, starting from zero once again, alongside losing their progress in the story. Which means they have to pay again, without any compensation or refund for money previously spent. That is not acceptable. And this isn’t even touching the keys, yet! Or the fact a lot of people have glitches that prevent their keys from refilling or from the Wheel of Fortune allowing them a free spin every twenty-four hours!

The bottom line is that people are being robbed. This needs to be addressed by those in charge, and soon, because the dev team for The Arcana can’t address this given it’s out of their hands. It’s unfair to them because their bosses aren’t doing anything to address this problem and they’re stuck having to handle this as best as they can, and it’s unfair to the consumers who have paid the equivalent of a new AAA game at this point in time.

[nobaettadr]

ooc.

hello again after a very long time away! i hope y’all haven’t forgotten about me :P i needed some time away from ferp and i think the break did me good; i’m hoping to be able to tackle this return with a clean slate and ( ideally ) some fresh confidence, now that granblue fantasy isn’t devouring my entire life only 70% of it, the other 30% of which revolves around fe: warriors. probably.

upwards and onwards! below the cut are my current drafts and any other previously active threads from before my hiatus, barring muses that have dropped since, etc. the ‘previously active threads’ lists are more of a “is this still a thing?” at my partners, so lmk. i’m going to take some time to get a handle on what i have first, but after things settle down, i will likely be taking on new threads ( except naesala; see below the cut ).

for the drafts that i have, i’ll be assuming they’re still active unless told otherwise. if you do not want to continue a thread, please let me know. i’ve been away a long time and totally will understand if you’ve lost inspiration / have taken on a lot more stuff since / etc. but please do tell me.

if we have a thread and it’s not listed below, and you want to continue it, also let me know. i don’t use a tracker so this is all going to be off the top of my head and what’s in my drafts tabs / replies i found on my activity pages. i’m probably bound to forget something between my 2 months away and 3 different blogs.

without further ado:

LEIF ;

drafts:

another day in paradise - @jehannanmage

blitzkrieg - @nordionknight

previously active threads:

symbiosis - @moiraicknight

it goes like it goes - @fortunes-favors

shivers - @restorationprince

a supplementary tale - @lightinheritor

ZEISS ;

drafts:

leather and stone - @lycianlynx

amidst the storm - @gradiivus

cedar dusted - @redmessenger

liminal - @countreglay

reincarnated - @shinonthegrumpy ( closing )

practicality - @lacunael

title that precedes - @nordionknight

previously active threads:

no caving under pressure - @redmessenger

wingmen - @aimless--archer

NAESALA ;

drafts:

none ( would you believe it? )

previously active threads:

pandaemonium - @tigrisereme

deliverance - @perceptiveknight

i re-app’d naesala shortly before my hiatus, hence the lack of threads. he’s the only one i’ll be taking threads on right now, so let me know if you want anything with him! otherwise, i still have this open starter on him too.

[whosxafraid]

{Immy} Yelling into the sky thinking no one is around.

Meme: Non-Verbal Venting StartersStatus: Closed

He hadn’t really thought about where he was going when he all but bolted out of that funeral home in Cairo, Illinois. More questions than answers. Questions he had never known to have until his skin had touched heavy gold braiding. Until its cords had burned lines into his skin, burned down the walls separating him from memories he had not known were there. Heavy gold that still lies wrapped in his grip, to the point of trembling.

Honey. Sweet on his tongue. Taken from bees in the hollow of a tree. Yet they do not attack. Meerly buzz happily about him as though they wish see how joyfully their labors are treasured.

Red hair, eyes that can never decide if they wish to be the color of sun laden fields or the very surface of the sun itself.

Laughter that comes and goes like far off storms. That lights excitement in his chest.

Steady. Steady. Not yet. Lead your target. Wait. Take breath and—

        Moya Volk, vhat did you see that takes root in chest?

The setting sun breaks through the imagery. The sound of her voice drowning out the elation. The breeze ripping away the warm hands upon his shoulders. The memory is gone and he is left here, standing amid brick and stone and modern things. And it had takes every fiber of his stubbornness not to cave beneath the weight of the ashes. To take another breath despite everything tell him they can’t take the strain. The blurring of concrete and neatly kept grass and–

              “Oi’ need ta be’lone.”

And feet move him before he can even truly pick a direction in which to go. The Torc harshly shoved into the pocket of his cargos,as he jerks the driver’s side door of his car open. The roar of its engine loud and echoing before he is gone in a hail of dust and two thousand years of baggage. But even in this? He is fated to be somewhere. And he follows the pull without knowing it. Because everything is overshadowed, over bore by a voice deeper than his own and yet almost painfully the same…

“Sometimes the sun wears a cloak because without rain we would have no green grass, growing trees or fat sheep. There would be no fleet footed deer, no bird in sky and….” a tickling poke to a small child’s belly. “No rabbit in bellies, a thaisce.” 

Hands grip the steer wheel to near breaking, blinking away the burn. Focusing upon the road again. The engine pushed to go faster. As though if he could move fast enough he could out run these things that don’t make sense. And yet completely do. Because he has all the pieces now for them too. Or so he believes. And again his speed increases. Until the world is nothing but a darkening blur. Until even his quick reflexes aren’t enough to save him from the tires losing their grip. Skidding into the side railing at a hundred and sixty, coming to inevitable stop at a tree locals will tell you? Wasn’t there.

And for moments…or hours there is silence. Smoke billowing up into a twilight sky. Green and yellow unfocused and unseeing. But then—there’s a cough. Slurred curses. The door kicked open to spill him out onto the concrete. Where he remains. Willing lungs to work and nursing small legion of self inflicted wounds.

beag solais

His gaze darts upward. The pin prick of something he can not define, lingering at the limit of his glazed over sight. But he can feel it now can’t he? The pull of something. And though it is a struggle, he gets to his feet. Staggers across the asphalt and onward into the tree line. Beyond it…until something dark blocks out the evening sky. Barely outlined by what is left of the sun. And he feels it again. That firm tug, that feels so much like that hold upon his shoulders once had. Feet carrying him forward. Scrambling has he can upward. Slipping and sliding on lush green grass. Until finally he breaks ground at the top. The pin pricked form building to something larger and man shaped. But the moment he steps forward…

It blinks out. Leaving behind only the outline of something else. A doorway. The kind he has not seen in millinea. The ghostly forms of cats coming and going from sight at the sides. And he knows…oh he knows he’s been tricked. That he’s been drawn in by one of her cruel sorts of games. And his anger lights anew. His voice carrying in the empty air like a small storm.

“Glacaim le do dhíothú. D'athraigh mé é an oiread agus is féidir liom riamh. Thóg mé an pionós síoraí a scríobh t�� isteach i mo flesh agus i mo chnámh. Cé mhéad eile is mian leat a chur chugamsa freisin? Thóg tú rudaí nár ghlac mise riamh!”

Nothing answers him. Nothing but the deafening silence of this unknown mound. And his rage becomes containable. Becomes something that lights his blood and before wisdom can stop him–he’s rushing towards the door shimmering in and out of existence. A door that will not have him and he is brought to a sudden crashing stop. Though again and again and again, fists pound upon it.

          “Freagair dom! D'íoc mé as cibé coireacht a cheap mé a rinne mé, míle uair níos mó!”

But no answer comes. No matter how much strength he puts in every strike. No matter how loud his voice grows. Until there is not enough strength left in him to lift his own arms. Not enough to keep him on his feet and he finds himself sinking to his knees. Hard breaths in the cool air; as red slips over knuckles and down fingers. Fingers that fumble to pull the gold woven torc from his pocket. Bloodied hands gripping it with strength they don’t really possess. Long held tears spilling over as a voice hoarse and broken mutter wishes he knows are no use.

            “Is mian liom nár tháinig tú chugam riamh. Is mian liom nár ghlac mé do thrócaire riamh …”

[tightropedrawn-blog]

MirrorMask (2005) roleplay sentence starters

“I am queen of everything in this part of town.” “You cannot escape my cunning use of black magic markers!” “Well, I am a very important man.” “You may think I'm a hardhearted black sock but underneath this dark woolly exterior is a naked pink foot.” “Not again. We can't have this conversation again!” “You're going to be the death of me.” “That's our cue.” “There, you see, that was educational.” “Does it look that bad?” “I'd rather be juggling bananas.” “We are rats sinking the leaving ship.” “Dreams only get you that far, darling. After that, you need cash.” “I wasn't worried until you told me not to worry.” “You only do that when you're worried.” “It's not your fault, don't be silly. It's not anybody's fault. These things happen. It's just life.” “Come on, you're going to catch your death.” “Penny for your thoughts, love.” “I know you or someone like you.” “Is that some sort of sick joke? Treading on little rabbity-type animals with every step?” “I don't really know where I am.” “Nasty poorly paced book with a soppy ending that I didn't believe in for one minute!” “He was one in a million. He was me best mate. I'll never ever forget him. Well, onward and upward!” “How do you know if you're happy or sad without a mask? Or angry? Or ready for dessert?” “Lying won't help you.” “Are you a princess?” “I wish there was something I could do to help.” “It would be like looking for a needle — no, not a needle, something smaller than a needle in a haystack — when you don't even know if you're in the right field.” “I mean, as propositions go I have to say, it's completely, utterly, unarguably, quintessentially hopeless.” “Forget juggling. We'll do what rich people do. We'll bathe in… fish. Eat our own weight in chocolate buttons. Learn to play the concertina.” “Now, do you think I'd look good in a crown?” “What are we looking for, again? How do we know when we've found it?” “Sounds a bit iffy, doesn't it? Good luck. I'll be here when you come back. If you come back.” “Answer my riddle, and only then you can pass. Fail, and I devour you, bones and all!” “We have to get out of here.” “Come on, time's up, we've got to run.” “It's polite conversation or death.” “Absolutely. Yeah. We just have to try the key in every single lock we pass. When we find the one that key opens, we'll know that 10,000 years have passed.” “Come on, think positive! Think of treasure and all that stuff you like.” “What's green, hangs on a wall and whistles?” “It's just the interminable ravings of an unsound and enormous mind, I expect.” “Do you like cakes?” “Just sit anywhere. I'll go and get the tea.” “Don't let them see you're afraid.” “Here are some cakes for the road. You never know when you might need them.” “Absolutely mad as pilchards.” “I prefer to think of myself as prudent, cautious.” “No, I'm not hurt, thanks for asking.” “I hate being so helpless.” “Never put off till tomorrow what you can put off until the day after.” “I'm a panther. I shall slip unnoticed through the darkness like a dark, unnoticeable, slippy thing.” “I know we haven't always got on, but I'm really grateful for all your help.”  “I couldn't have done any of this without you.” “Would it be too much to ask for an apology?” “Rocks and logs can bite like dogs, but words will never hurt me.” “You useless cake-hogging coward!” “I believe somebody said something about jewels. As many as I can carry?” “Right, so, no hard feelings then, yeah?” “I suppose that 'oops' and 'I promise not to do it again' isn't actually going to cut the mustard.” “If I was to say something apologetic it would reflect my feelings in this matter accurately.” “And you were right, you know, and I was not as right as you were. About everything.” “And you probably hate me. I mean, I'd hate me, too.” “No! I don't want to be a waiter!” “I don't need this, you know. I'm a very important man.” “Actually, I've always fancied joining a circus.”

[faeshiftersmore-archive]

Silent Times

Continued from HERE: with @tacetcollis

“♬ 3″

 Send me a ♬ and a number between 1-10 and i’ll put my iTunes on shuffle and skip to that number and write a starter with my favorite lyric from that song. - 

(( Thanks @msgold63! )) - Accepting

{ Siouxsie & The Banshees - “Scarecrow” } 

Invisible fingers threaded through the fae woman’s mind as she walked through the library, curiosity filling the thoughts of the sentient town as it observed this newest visitor. So frequently did its own produced monstrosities and lost, tormented humans wander its streets - anything different surely caught the town’s attention, as Ms. Gold now did, her abilities and forms serving as an enticement for Silent Hill.

A game, perhaps, was in order, though not its usual breed of “entertainment.” For now, its behavior was not born of sadism or a desire to force a change in the visitor’s lifestyle, for better or worse - Silent Hill was nothing but curious, perhaps dangerously.

It was time for a puzzle, as words could be found on the library wall, perhaps written in blood. All she had to do was pull the proper fairy tale from a pile of moldy books and open to the proper page - do that, and a code would be revealed, and Ms. Gold could travel onward into a secret room. perhaps containing useful items, perhaps containing monsters. none but silent hill would know.

“Listen to his body moan Make a wish and send us home To spin the gold and silver stitches We can turn his rags to riches. 10 - 4 - 4 + 1”

Silent Hill, a town of legend and myth albeit some of the darkest lore she had ever heard. For most that would be reason enough to stay away, it was not as though Rumple tossed it all aside as falsehoods after all. Alas Rumple had her moments where curiosity completely over whelmed all good sense, and so she found herself slipping through the shadows of one of the few libraries it could be argued no-one should ever visit.

Most of her glamour was down, not like there were humans to hide from here after all. Eyes a touch darker then normal with a bit less gold, ears twitching and listening at everything around her. Spotting the words on the wall her eyebrows twitched upwards and inevitably she moved to read it. Soft melodic voice whispered in the air as she read the words allowed tilting her head a touch in thought. “Someone, or something wants my attention in this room. The question is should I play or leave?” Clicking her tongue Ms. Gold took one deep breath glancing around the room.

Once again that curiosity won through even if part of her wanted to simply keep moving and the Fae woman started to pull a few books here and there. Bookcase here, pile on top of a cabinet there, even a book from a rather spoiled pile. It seemed a random selection, and in truth it was as she trusted her luck as well as “something's” desire for a game to pull her in the right direction. Each book was flipped through, slow enough to see if there was anything odd on the pages but of course she couldn't take the time to fully read through. One of the books that caught her interest was of fairy tales, and naturally she paused for a moment curious as to if it had a legend about Rumpelstiltskin and if so how Rumpelstiltskin would be written.