#also just looking at the book covers evokes very fond feelings

[icarusdiesatdawn]

reading (or rather listening since I'm an audiobook kinda person) the percy jackson books again for the first time in over a decade has me really feeling nostalgic. I barely remembered anything but just hearing the chapter titles and the memories are flooding back in (pun intended)

[silverpetrichor]

My Love Is Mine All Mine

A/N: I know I’ve been MIA but the mania surrounding Gravity Falls right now has awoken me from my slumber. I’ve had a huge crush on Ford since I got into the series during the pandemic and I just had to write this.(I've also never written smut before so please forgive me if it's cringe.) I’ve never written him before, so forgive me if he’s a little (or a lot) OOC. As always constructive criticism is welcome and please enjoy! 

Last Summer. . .

You were helping your brother cook dinner for his heavily pregnant wife and 2 kids. Laughing and joking as your younger brother arrived with his husband, wine and dessert. It was shaping up to be another ordinary evening hanging out with your family when you got the call. 

Next thing you know you’re hugging your loved ones goodbye before opening a portal to the outskirts of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Staring up at the darkness enveloping the town that you’d only heard of in passing, watching on in horror before assisting the others in reinforcing the natural barriers around the town to keep it from spreading…  

“—Y/n! Earth to Y/n! Are you okay?” Your coworker asked as you looked up from where you had zoned out while shelving the new books.  

“Yeah? I um, I’m fine really. Just lost in thought for a second.” you respond. 

“Oh, okay. Well, I was just trying to tell you that it’s lunch time,” Tracy said, smiling up at you. 

You tilted your head to the side, brows furrowing “Geez, already?” you looked at your watch, and low and behold it was noon already.  

You cast one more glance to the book still in your hand, a post apocalyptic romance who’s cover had evoked memories of the centralized apocalypse that had taken place last summer in the seemingly innocuous town. You recall arguing with the council about actually getting involved and helping the town instead of just doing damage control. You didn’t like the stances they often took, and were preparing to go in despite their decision when all of a sudden the oppressive feeling of Bill’s presence vanished and with it your need to be there, standing sentry. 

Or, so you thought. Now, you have moved from the hustle and bustle of New York City to the quiet and peculiar little town of Gravity Falls. All because you dared to go against the council and nearly disobeyed them, you were now stuck as a librarian here indefinitely. Merely monitoring the situation and living in a cottage not too far from the Mystery Shack, hidden by magic and finally inhabited again after decades of going unused after the last council assigned witch moved.

You shook your head as if shaking off your thoughts, shelving the book in your hand and heading to the breakroom in the back where your homemade lunch sat in the fridge. 

You ate your lunch with Tracy in relative silence letting her do most of the talking. She was a sweet woman who was a few years older than you, in her early forties married with three rambunctious kids. She was also very talkative, which you didn’t mind despite being more introverted yourself. 

You never liked the quiet anyway, ironically enough even though you had moved out to a cottage in the woods, you always had music or something playing. You’d even gotten a fluffy pet cat a week before who moved out here who you dubbed Lady Arson the III. 

You’d actually grown fond of this little town despite being a city girl, this town had its own unique charm. Even though you had to chase some gnomes out and renew the old wards on the old cottage. (Thank the stars you had a magical ingredients supplier for the unicorn hair you needed. Unicorns are such stuck up assholes and if you never had to interact with one again it’d be too soon) You had redecorated the cottage and made it your own. You also found a nearby lake to go swimming in relative peace during the spring and summer.  

You talked for a while with Tracy as you found yourself having a bit of fun. While you missed the city there were plenty of things and people that made it worth it. Like your crush on your friend Ford Pines. . . 

He came to the library every other day or so in the afternoon sitting in the back alcove reading and writing in a journal with weathered pages. You’d actually managed to strike up a rapport with the man instead of hopelessly pining after him in silence. (Which you still did but you felt less pathetic when your hands would wander late at night when you couldn’t sleep)  

And, speaking of the devil, Ford was present with his teenage niece and nephew Mabel and Dipper. You found them in the back of the library searching the shelves for a book as you came around the corner to reshelve the last of the book on your cart. 

“Good afternoon Y/n!” Mabel excitedly stated, having noticed you first as her brother and grunkle were absorbed in searching the shelves. 

“Afternoon Pines family, what trouble have you gotten into today?” You greeted and asked, taking in their disheveled appearances as you raised a brow. 

“We were exercising a category five ghost in the woods near Fiddleford’s mansion when we encountered a hostile gremloblin!” Mable replied as her and Dipper shuddered in unison. 

You scanned them for injuries upon hearing this, before asking if they were okay. They nodded their assent before Mabel leaned in and whispered “But I’m pretty sure Grunkle Ford has a concussion or something.” 

Your eyebrows raise as you release your hold on the cart you’d been pushing. You tap Ford’s shoulder and he turns around, rather quickly almost stumbling. As he does you notice the gash on his forehead covered in Hello Kitty bandaids, that are clearly Mable’s work. But despite that you still see some red on the gauze the two bandaids are holding down. 

“Hello, beaut—I mean Y/n!” clears throat, while rubbing his head with his free hand, “How are you doing today?” Ford asks awkwardly, blushing. 

“Certainly better than you, you’re bleeding! Come with me.” You say, grabbing Ford’s hand after seeing the slightly dazed and unfocused look in his eyes and the bloody gauze on his hand. 

You pull him to the breakroom, the twins following. Ford huffing and blushing even harder at you holding his hand. You sit him at the table as the twins walk over to the vending machine drawn to the candy and chips in it respectively. 

You wash your hands quickly before going to bend and look under the sink and after a minute or two of rummaging around, pull out the new first aid kit that you’d brought to replace the old barely full one. Ford’s head tilts and his eyebrows raise as he mentally thanks the infinite cosmos for pencil skirts and the fact that you seem to love to wear them. 

When you stand straight he guiltily turns his head to the side, finding interest in the fake foliage and book themed posters hanging about. You raise a brow at his odd behavior, chalking it up to his concussion and head over after smoothing out your black pencil skirt. You walk over, heels clicking on the linoleum floor as you take off your colorful blazer before rolling up your white blouse sleeves.  

You open up the first aid kit with practiced efficiency after laying out a piece of paper towel from the roll in the middle of the table. You sanitize your hands quickly with an alcohol wipe before you gently pull the Hello Kitty bandages and gauze off his forehead. Apologizing quietly as Ford winces still, you move to grab the alcohol. You end up muttering another apology as he winces whilst you dab at the slightly deep cut with a soaked cotton ball.  

Ford’s face stays flushed as he realizes how close your chest is to his face. Trying his best to not make it obvious that he’s staring at you in that way. His eyes flicker to your face, focusing on how cute you look with your face scrunched up in concentration as you gently dab.   

While Ford struggles to be covert about his feelings you seem to be fairing slightly better with a barely there flush to your face. You place butterfly bandages on his forehead after dropping the alcohol soaked cotton ball onto the paper towel. 

You then gently grab his hand before unraveling the gauze, and dabbing at the cut with another alcohol soaked cotton ball. 

Mabel looks over, noticing the look in each other's eyes and Ford’s blushing face. A smirk falling over her face as she realizes what is happening, nodding to herself.

“Matchmaking time!” she whispers under breath before choking on a gummy kola. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he slaps her back, the gummy kola flying out her mouth. Of which, she promptly picks up off the floor and eats much to Dipper's disgust. 

“So…Y/n huh? Do you. . .like her?” Mabel asks Ford as they leave the library, raising her eyebrows and smirking. 

Ford chuckles nervously, blushing furiously “What? I, I uh. . I have no idea what you’re talking about!!” He says, eyes shifting about nervously. 

“ Oh my gosh! Yes you do!! You love her! Love, love, love her!!” Mabel yelled, jumping up and down around him as the trio walked back to the Mystery Shack.   

“And I thought I sucked at hiding my feelings.” Dipper nudged Ford, laughing. 

Ford sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he nodded in defeat before telling Mabel to quiet herself despite no one being near. 

“Yes, I am very fond of Y/n. I find her to be endearing and enchanting in everything she does,” Ford muttered as he nervously laughed. 

“Well then Grunkle Ford, you should ask her out!! All the other blind dates I've tried to set her up on went nowhere!!” Mabel said as she skipped backwards in front of him and Dipper.  

“I don't know, I mean, aren't I too old for her? And I haven't really had any sort of  relationship in a while.” Ford muttered as the Mystery Shack came into view.  

“Trust me, Grunkle Ford! You got this! She's into nerd stuff like DD&MD! She's a librarian and she’s a historian!! And she likes listening to you rant about your research! Plus she's beautiful! It doesn't get any better than her!!” Mabel yelled as they sat on the couch outside the shack. 

“Yeah, in fact I know just what I need to do!!” Ford declared as he grabbed a graph journal full of blueprints for inventions out of one of his trenchcoat inner pockets.  

****** 

“This was a terrible idea,” Ford whispered as he hid from Flirt B0t 3000.  

“Wow, really who would've thought a robot built for romance would've been a terrible idea? Let's see, uh everyone!” Dipper harshly whispered back. 

“This is Giffany all over again,” Mabel sighs as she hands Ford her compact so he can check around the corner for Flirt B0t 3000. 

As he did so, the robot's half melted face snapped in their direction, its intact eye rolling to look at him through the mirror. 

“When I say run, you run as far and fast as your legs can take you and don’t look back,” Ford harshly whispers, tightening his grip on his gun. 

“But Grunkle Ford!! We can help!” Dipper responds as he clutches a crossbow in his hand. After Weirdmageddon, he’d asked Wendy to teach him how to use one. 

Before Ford could argue further, Stan came around the corner baseball bat in hand. “Take this you stupid robot!!” He screamed swinging his baseball bat, just as Flirt B0t 3000’s head turned to face him. 

It’s head flies clear off, Dipper shooting it with his crossbow as it flies in front of him. Stan beat the headless body repeatedly until it stopped twitching and was nothing but a pile of mangled metal and wires. 

“Grunkle Stan!! How’d you know we needed help?” Mabel asked as she ran up to him, hugging him. 

Stan let out a small “oof” upon impact before explaining “Well, when Ford mentioned making a robot to practice asking out Y/n with and then none of you picked up the phone when I called, I figured it went horribly wrong. And would you look at that, I was right!” Stan kicked the robot's remains once more.   

“Thank you Grunkle Stan!! But did you see that shot!?” Dipper asked, laughing. 

“Sure did kid! Wendy's one hel-heck of a teacher ain't she?” He asked, giving Dipper a noogie. 

“Yeah!” Dipper agreed, grunting as he tried to get out of his head lock.

Stan released him before walking over to Ford and popping him upside the head. 

“What was that for Stanley?” Ford cried out rubbing the back of his head. 

“You know for someone so smart you sure can be a real dumbass sometimes. I may not be the best at romance or reading signals but even I can tell that you and her like each other. So for God's sake just ask her out already!” Stan harshly whispered to Ford as he gave him a hug. 

“Yeah, you're right. I mean the worst she can say is no right? Oh God what if she says no? I don't think I can do this!” Ford panicked, pacing. 

“Look Poindexter! You got this, you're the total package, even with those sideburns! Just take a deep breath and go ask her out before you lose your nerve,” Stan said, nudging Ford.

Ford ran out of his laboratory in the basement and headed for the library. 

“Ten bucks says he chickens out,” Stan says, waving at Ford's retreating figure. 

The young twins sigh in unison, shaking their heads at Stan's antics. 

******

Since Ford had awkwardly asked you out that first time a little over a month ago, you’d been spending almost all of your time together. Flowers from Ford littered your cottage and desk at work, and Ford would often have smudges of your dark red lipstick on his face. Even Lady Arson the III approved of him, and she never seemed to like any of your dates. You were both falling hard and fast for one another. 

But you still hadn’t told him about the whole you being a witch thing. Afraid of losing him, even if he was a lover of the supernatural you didn’t know if he still would, once you tell him the truth. You haven’t felt this way about someone since college. But every time you thought about telling him, you chickened out. 

Tonight though, you were going to have a picnic on the hill near your cottage and Ford was going to bring a telescope so you could stargaze. After mentioning to him how you loved astronomy but only ever got to see the stars in textbooks and online since you grew up in New York.  

You hoped nothing paranormal would interrupt your date, seeing as you were planning on finally telling him about your powers maybe. But of course, you just had to say it out loud. 

And well, now here you are in your cute floral sundress and cardigan fighting a very hostile spirit after it had attacked you and Ford while you were skipping stones at the nearby lake. Ford almost cracked his head on the rocks when he stumbled back in shock, at hearing the haunting childlike laughter reaching into his trench coat for holy water.  The category four spirit took this as an opportunity to attack, its cute face morphing into that of horror as it rushed towards the two of you.   

But then much to his surprise, you shoved him behind you before raising your hands and suddenly it slammed against a forcefield you had seemingly created if your glowing hands were any indication. Then a blast of blue light emanated from your open raised palms and the spirit froze before evaporating into thin air.

You sighed in relief before lowering your hands and wiping your brow. You then turned and began kissing Ford's face, pecking all about after you checked him over for injuries.You finally pull away when you feel satisfied with Ford’s blushing disposition. 

“Thank the stars you're okay! I can't believe we stumbled upon a hostile spirit all the way out here. My wards and presence usually keep stuff like this from happening,” you said sighing deeply. 

Ford stuttered his brain attempting to reboot after seeing you use your powers and you kissing his face so much,”Your wards, as in magic? Magic that I just saw you use. Why didn’t you tell me?” he questioned as she paced in front of him, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Well, I—” you cut yourself off sighing deeply. “My being a witch isn’t exactly an ice breaker that I bring up on dates. You know how I haven’t had a serious relationship since college? It ended when she found out I was a witch and since then I just have gotten used to hiding that side of myself from anyone that didn’t already know. So yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just didn’t want to scare you off because I’m falling for you and I think I might actually even be in love with yo—” Ford cuts you off, grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you passionately. 

You stutter, before humming into the kiss. Cupping his face in your hands as one of his hands makes its way to your waist.  You have matching goofy smiles as you pull away for breath resting your foreheads against one another. 

“You could never scare me off because in case you couldn’t tell, I’m in love with you too, darling.” he whispered softly to you, staring into your eyes as you bit your lip bashfully. 

You could feel the heat flushing your face as you felt him pull you closer. In the moonlight, you could see that he was blushing fiercely. You kiss him deeply, opening a portal behind you as you pull him backwards. 

You trip and fall right onto your bed at the cottage, much to Ford’s shock as he pulls away from you. He looks around baffled. 

“Fascinating! You can create portals? I knew that witches existed but I didn't know you could do that!! What else can you do?” Ford asked excitedly as he began to sit up reaching for his journal.  

You followed, grabbing his trench coat lapels, kissing him and flipping him to his back. Ford’s hands went slack, his focus recentered on you as you pulled away with a self satisfied smirk.   

“We can have a Q & A later, right now I’m more interested in other things,” Y/n breathed out before grinding on Ford's lap, feeling his hardness grow underneath you. 

Ford blinked, swallowing as he let out a whine at your continued movement. You kissed his lips again before muttering a soft “Off,” lifting the hem of his turtleneck. He eagerly obliged–almost knocking you in the face if not for your quick reflexes–practically ripping off his trench coat and turtleneck and flinging them across the room. You pulled your cardigan off as you admired his slightly pudgy and hairy physique before running your hands up his hairy yet muscular arms.  

He moaned as you ground down on him again, gripping the back of his neck as you clung to him. You giggled into his mouth, kissing him before standing to remove your sundress and flats. Ford followed suit, kicking off his combat boots and damn near ripping his pants and underwear as he pulled them off. Almost tumbling to the ground as he did so, causing you to both giggle. Until he looked up at you, breath catching at the sight of you still in your matching black lace bra and panty set.

He surges forward, kissing you like a man possessed and kneading your ass. You moan into his mouth, as you feel your panties dampen with your arousal. You feel his hard cock standing at attention, smearing precum onto your stomach. 

Before you know it, Ford has you lying on the bed kissing a trail down to the apex of your thighs. He lingers at your chest, sucking at your nipples through the lace before removing the barrier entirely. You shudder at the attention he gives your nipples, sucking one and rolling the other in his hand. 

You whine as he releases his grip on your chest and his mouth moves south. He teasingly kisses your aching clit and nips at your thighs before slowly pulling down your underwear. 

You buck your hips slightly at the feeling of his breath on your now exposed cunt. 

“Gorgeous,” you hear him whisper before diving in and eating you out like you were his last meal.  

You mewl as he laps at your folds before latching onto your clit and sucking. You buck your hips and whimper as you attempt to shut your legs. Ford pins your right thigh with one hand before moving to open you up with his other. 

You gasp and grasp at his hair roughly when you feel his index finger at your entrance before slowly sinking into you. You moan loudly, whining as he thrusts his finger in and out before adding another. Your eyes slam shut as your back arches at the feeling. 

He scissors his fingers briefly before he makes a come hither motion with his fingers. You begin to shake, your heels digging into his back from where your legs have been perched over Ford's shoulders. 

You whimper out a soft “oh fuck,” the only warning Ford receives before you're cumming all over his face. Whining and moaning as he fingers you and sucks at your clit through your high, moaning into your cunt. Which triggers another harsher orgasm as you sob out, pushing Ford's face away. 

You look down at him between your thighs, his face flushed and glasses askew as he kisses your thighs. As if to apologize for the accidental overstimulation, your chest heaving and thighs twitching still as you smooth out his messy hair. 

You sit up and pull Ford's mouth to yours by the nape of his neck. Kissing and licking into his mouth roughly, tasting yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth cupping your face gently. 

You both pull away to breathe, foreheads pressed together. “Are you sure you're up for more?” Ford questions against your lips. 

You smirk as you reach down to grab his cock, stroking its ruddy head. “Oh, I'm just getting started baby boy” you whisper in his ear as he whimpers in yours. 

You flip your positions again, spreading your thighs over his as you position yourself over his cock. Grasping his cock and guiding it towards your entrance, your other hand gripping the sheets by Ford's head. You moan in unison as you sink down his thick cock, gasping when you're fully seated. 

Ford whines as you begin to ride him, slowly at first before gaining a rough rhythm. You pin his hands above his head as he gasps at the sudden move.  Moaning loudly as you nip and lick at his neck, his eyes rolling back. 

You giggle sinfully in his ear, before moaning as he flips you onto your back. Ford grips your hips “My turn,” he growls out before beginning a punishing rhythm that has you crying out once more, tears streaming down your face. 

Your hands grip the sheets before clawing at Ford's back, causing him to moan, and move a hand to grip at the bedspread. 

“Fuck!! I'm close, are you there yet darling?” Ford pants out. 

It takes you a minute to speak coherently, gasping out “Inside, cum inside me! I need it, please” you manage to babble out through your tears.  

“Shit,” Ford hisses, moving to rub at your clit in rough circles. 

You whine and cry out Ford’s name as you writhe, your grip on Ford adjusts as you pull him in for a rough kiss. 

You both moan into the kiss as your walls flutter around his twitching cock. He groans at the feeling, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. You pant into each other's mouths as he breathes out “Cum for me, darling.” 

You let out a silent scream as you cum for a third time, Ford groans as he feels your wetness drench yours and his thighs as you squirt on his cock. His head drops to your neck as he bites your shoulder, shuddering as he thrusts deeply, his spend coating your walls as you pant and sigh. 

You lock your feet together around his waist as he collapses onto you. You play with his hair as the smell of sex and sweat permeates the air in the afterglow. 

You wince as you feel his softening cock slowly pull out. He groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your wet cunt. You feel your combined cum drip down to the crack of your ass as you sit up. 

“So, I'm a mess. Wanna help me clean up?” You smirk up at him, eyes glinting deviously. 

He laughs before pulling you up, “I thought you'd never ask,” you both smile into the kiss you share as you grab his hand, kissing it and leading him to your bathroom.  

You might just send the council a thank you basket for sending you to Gravity Falls after all. . . 

******

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I had fun writing this!

[dourpeep]

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

-

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

[dracosaurusrex]

Chasing His Sun

Part 4 to Notebook!

Summary: Where Y/N tries to take her mind off of a certain Slytherin, only to have it backfire.

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: Doesn’t a day spent in Hogsmeade sound fun? I got cravings for chocolate while writing this. Honestly tho, I threw up this entire chapter. I certainly hope you enjoy it, pero lyke I’m just going to let my imagination roam free at this point. I would really appreciate your feedback!! <3

Your eyes opened upon the feeling of sunlight hitting your face. Hints of orange and yellow that scattered through a blanketed, cloudy sky indicated to you that it was still early. You took in the peace that emitted through the sounds of birds chirping and felt at ease. It was a beautiful Saturday morning. You looked around your room, feeling groggy, as you recalled the incident that occured the night before. Piercing eyes, a teasing smile--a blush rose to your face as the embarrassment filled you up once again. You had no time to process what happened, because as soon as you met your bed, you knocked out. With the scenario now settling in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself in your grave.

‘The notebook. Oh shoot. Where’s the notebook?’ Your eyes widened when you realized that you had fallen asleep with it in your grasp, out in the open, where Hermione and Ginny could see it easily. With your heart racing and hands moving in a panic, you frantically shot up from your sheets, hoping that you haven’t been caught. You locate the notebook under your pillow and release a huge breath of relief as you hold it near to your chest. Not wanting to suffer another scare, you placed it into your bag.

“Y/N, are you up already?” Hermione asks. She must’ve woken up from the commotion that you just caused. Sleep was still visible from her eyes.

You chuckled nervously, “Yes I am. It’s a beautiful morning and I can’t seem to go back to sleep.” 

“We’re going to Hogsmeade today…” She starts off, “Would you like to join us? We leave at 10.” She lifts herself slightly from her bed to look at you with eyes half opened.

“Yea, I’d love to. I need to pick up a few things also.” You reply. In response, she gives you a tired thumbs up and drops herself back into her pillow.

Since there wasn’t much sleep left inside of you, you decided to get ready. The cold air from your window prompted you to bundle up. As you dress into something comfortable, your mind drifts back to the incident with Draco. Warmth took over after remembering what he had said in response to your little incantations.

‘Why did he say that?’ Yesterday was a whirlwind for your heart. How was it possible to keep your emotions in check when everything that happened gave you sparks of hope and longing? You thought back to potions, to the notebook, and to the encounter. There was no way, right? Would a guy, who held much pride for his house, develop feelings for a random girl in Gryffindor? You weren’t sure. Your heart leaned toward that possibility, but your mind wanted to set itself on the opposing side. All you knew now was that you had to avoid him at all costs. 

You glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. It was now 8:30AM, and your two roommates were beginning to stir from their sleep. Having been done preparing for about ten minutes now, you decide to gather your things and pick up breakfast, ready to start the day ahead of you.

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

You, Hermione, and Ginny stepped foot into Hogsmeade. Despite the grey clouds that covered the skies, you took delight in the small peaks of sunshine, which was joint with the cool breezes that blew through your hair. The cold, although nipping on your nose, evoked a warm feeling in your chest. Autumn was the best season.

The small town was filled with numerous shops. It wasn’t as plentiful as Diagon Alley, but its coziness added to its charm. You followed your friends as they explored Zonko’s Joke Shop and Honeydukes. The prior was too loud for your taste, so you opted to wait outside for the two girls. However, time spent in latter was always good fun. You admired the confections from the window, and excitedly went inside. The sweet aromas that flitted the shop draw a memory from the back of your mind.

In connection to the interactions that you had with Draco the day before, you can’t help but recall the first time you ever had a real conversation with him. How his affections caught you off guard. How it caused your heart rate to speed up numerously within one sitting. How you realized that he wasn’t as bad as others make him out to be. He was actually quite sweet in contrast to his typical personality. There weren’t chocolate chip cookies available in Honeydukes, but the goods made you think of him with much fondness as the coziness that you initially felt in your heart spread even more. 

You examined the sweets that were arranged neatly on their respective racks, picking out several bags of chocolate frogs in contentment. ‘I wonder if Draco likes chocolate frogs.’ you thought. After scanning the shelves for a few more minutes, you came across peppermint toads. ‘Draco, oddly enough, smells like mint. His behavior also reminds me of a toad.’ You laugh at the thought and keep an inward smile stuck to your face. He wasn’t around you, yet the thought of him weighed a huge deal in your heart. Not that you didn’t mind it. 

You added the packs of toads into your little basket. ‘Maybe he’d like some too.’ You thought. 

Happy with your selections, you bounded to the front counter to pay. You weren’t aware of how much time you spent in the store, because you totally lost track of Hermione and Ginny. They were nowhere in sight, and now you were left alone. You stashed your purchases in your bag and waved the shop owner goodbye. Once you stepped outside of the shop you scouted out for your friends. You stared at your surroundings with your eyebrows furrowed, only to have your attention to be stolen by the sound of a very shrill laughter. 

Off in a distance, you see a mop of platinum blonde hair. Draco stood with his hands wrapped around his waist. He sported a sleek outfit, clad in black, which was emphasized by the rings that adorned his fingers. The cold air made the flush of red more apparent on his cheeks. Furthermore, the way his laughter escaped his lips gave life to the butterflies in your stomach. You made it firm to yourself that you were trying to avoid him, and yet the universe decided against that. 

Draco felt your eyes burrow into the back of his head, causing him to turn to your direction. He had stopped laughing at this point when you came into his sight. The way the sun seemed to act as a spot light to you caused his heart to flutter. You weren’t even dressed in clothes that would be considered eye-catching, but to him, you were just that: The apple of his eye. He remembered the way you called his name, how you emphasized every syllable. Your voice seemed to give his name meaning and it made him genuinely happy.

You on the other hand still couldn’t bear the thought of him catching you swooning over his name. It was embarrassing to have been caught in your own feels--a moment that was only meant for you. You broke off the eye contact that was held between the both of you and walked in the other direction. Hoping that he wouldn’t attempt to follow you, you made your way to Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, your ultimate favorite.

Draco’s line of sight followed you. He was driven by the thought of seeing you again. The way the sun hit you, the way you smiled warmly at him, the image of you so focused and wrapped up in your own affairs elicited such a huge surplus of emotions from him. You didn’t have to do much to get his attention. He was extremely enamored by the thought of you.

“Hey you guys. I have to run some errands. I’ll go meet you at Three Broomsticks.” He announced.

“Let me go with you!” Exclaimed an excited Pansy.

Draco sternly gazed at her, “No. I want to be left alone.” Coldness was laced within his words with efforts of pushing her away. It worked as she was seen dejectedly turning to Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise. The boy continued to make his way through a crowd of people, his head turning from side to side with hopes to catch you alone once again. He peered carefully into a number of stores, often throwing a second glance just to make sure he didn’t miss you. His heart was beginning to pick up its pace as his concentration solely focused on finding you.

As if the sun was listening to his thoughts, light was casted to your figure in the small stationary shop the same way it had the first time you spoke in the library. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, breath hitched once he saw you. He couldn’t describe the reason why you made him feel the way he did. You looked so unreal. You seemed so unreal. You weren’t even aware of how beautiful you looked at this very moment, and you didn’t even need to make an effort to do so. 

From the very first moment you shared up until now, interactions were limited and minimal, but Draco couldn’t deny the pull no matter how much he tried. The image of you smiling under the sun was something he knew he wanted in his life. If the ambitious traits of Slytherin took form, it would embody this very moment: Not wanting to lose you again, he stepped forth into the shop.

He delicately pushed the door forward. The shop itself was quite inside and smelled of parchment and old books. He didn’t want to catch your attention right away, so he roamed through the aisles quietly, keeping close sight of you. You were excitedly examining quills on display, testing them out with a satisfied expression on your face. You thought it might’ve been weird to others, but you absolutely loved stationary.

Draco witnessed as your eyes glimmered at the sight of shelves filled with journals that resembled his. They were neatly arranged by color, starting from shades of reds and blues on the bottom shelves, and greens and yellows on the top. You ran your fingers across the spines, and stopped once you were met with the green journals. The top shelves were a little bit beyond your reach, requiring you to step on your tiptoes in order to snag one. Proving to have a tough time, you placed your items on the side so that you’d have more access. However, the struggle to obtain a green journal remained. Your body was stretched, your arms were extended to its full length, and your calves were starting to burn. Having enough of a delight in seeing your effort, Draco quietly made his way to you without you noticing. 

Your focus was still extremely concentrated on the object until it was broken by the feeling of a warm breath hitting the back of your neck. Your eyes widened. You saw a black arm extend from behind you, grabbing the green notebook with ease. Startled, you jolt backwards, hitting Draco’s chest with your back. As you turned to see who your mystery helper was, a free hand held your arm, stabilizing you and preventing you from falling over.  Your eyes were met with Draco’s silvery orbs, the distance between your bodies was minimal. His gaze was intense, and it excited you inside. Suddenly, a child came passing through the aisles, causing you to push your back against the shelf and enclosing you between Draco’s arms.

Realizing the position you were in, you couldn’t help but draw your stare away from his eyes. The closeness made it all the more intimate, and a blush threatened to grace your face. Hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour at this point.

You heard Draco curse under his breath, “Idiotic child.”  

You chuckled, still trapped against the wall. The sound of your laughter garnered the attention of the boy as he turned his head to your direction. You didn’t realize how tall he was until this moment. You looked up, sucking your lips in to hide the smile that had already formed.

You grinned at him, “Nice seeing you here, Malfoy.” 

Draco cleared his throat and straightened his posture. After taking a good look at your small figure beneath him, he spoke, “Pleasure’s all mine, darling.” His face was graced with a smirk. You felt heat rise within you as the unfamiliar nickname--that directed towards you--rolled off his tongue.

“Is this the journal you were looking for? It looks awfully similar to mine.” With a huff, you tried reaching out for it, only for it to be raised well above your head. 

“Damn you and your long arms!” He only laughed. You tried to create a mad expression, but you couldn’t hide your smile. Draco’s actions kept taunting you as you jumped desperately to take the notebook out of his grasp. 

“What do you want from me!?” Your blush was already so apparent, and your hair was disheveled.

“‘What do I want?’ You ask?” Draco stopped moving and dropped his arms to his sides. Noticing how some hair strands covered your face, he reached out to you and pulled them behind your ear. Your eyes followed his movements and went back to his face. His expression turned serious as he handed the notebook to you. He began to scan your face before leaning into you. You subconsciously pressed yourself further into the shelf. You could feel his breath tease your ear.

He whispered, “Spend this day with me.” 

You were so flustered at this point, you didn’t even bother to say no. The intention of avoiding him was thrown out the window as your attempts to do so were ultimately deemed futile. The effect this boy had on you was indescribable.

Draco bent down to your level and smirked, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

A/N: I’m really grateful for all the support you all have given me! Seeing you all happy makes me happy also. I hope you have a great day!

PS. Feel free to talk to me! With that being said, should I open up requests?

Taglist: @m-winchester-67 @bbeauttyybbx @un-limit-edd @poetontheblock @tttyrus @stretchyice  @vaeonshi

Here’s Part 3!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen

Author: T. Kingfisher

Rating: 2/5 stars

Not very readable, except for the "plot" involving Jole and the Queen. The book is written in a sort of archaic, stilted style that seems intended to evoke the feeling of reading old books, like some sort of throwback to a more pretentious and academic moment of the recent past. The sentences are long and -- more or less, but more especially on pp. 90-93 -- full of italics. There frequently appears to be a misplaced modifier, i.e. Jole is described as losing his job in chapter 1, even though it's clear that he's firing it. There's a fair amount of over-description, e.g. the part on p. 77 that begins with the first paragraph of an endnote:

It is, in one way, not very wonderful. The whole edifice of the edifice is precarious; the cement is of the sort that has never stood up well in a Mediterranean climate. What is sure to give even more trouble than cement is a building site, and that can only give as much trouble as a site already in trouble, such as a desert.

And continues in a similar vein for the next 100 or so pages.

OK, I'm not a stickler about literary quality and there's plenty of bad literature out there. And I'm not complaining about not liking this book, I'm really not; just saying it isn't for me. A lot of the stuff I mentioned sounds like "the writing has been done for you by the editor," but the book in fact doesn't have any editors; the text was submitted to the "modern masters of the novel" series with a brief cover letter, with no promise of an editor and no promise of any kind of help with the somewhat convoluted plot and odd characters.

I don't recommend this. It's worth a few hours' time, if you're curious about what some published novelist's mind looks like when not under the usual constraints of plot and characters -- a curious thing -- but it's a very strange and awkward thing, and you may want to avoid it if you value your sanity.

(ETA: This is also very funny! The author is clearly fond of the word "tremendous," and uses it repeatedly with no justification as far as I can tell. I'm also fond of the word, and I keep giggling with amusement at some of the way the narration is written. If it didn't have an absurdly convoluted plot, it might seem like an attempt to write the funniest book possible, and that's really not a good goal in this case.)

[littleeyesofpallas]

BLEACH - Name Games

I was thinking I’ve more or less covered all the names with any clever or easily lost but overt meanings.  But there are a few side characters worth addressing, if only briefly:

Hisagi[檜佐木] Shuuhei[修兵]

name reads “Cypress Helper Tree,” and “Disciplined Soldier.“  Pretty straight forward play on him being a loyal and by the books lieutenant to Tousen.  I don’t know if there was something specific intended by the use of Cypress or not.  Hinoki Cypress is a common tree in Japan, and broadly used for construction due to its rot resistant qualities, so it’s actually pretty appropriate in how it seems to have themes of incorruptibility, but that feels like a stretch as far as intended meaning.

Omaeda[大前田] Marechiyo[希千代]

Sui-feng’s lieutenant is named, “Big Front Field“ and “Rare 1,000 Decades.”  Basically his family’s name comes from them having a large field as a sign of wealth, you could almost read it as “Big Front Yard” evoking imagery of like a massive estate, rather than the more humble image of a plot of farmland.  His name just means what it sounds like, it describes him as being Rare: Something seen only once in 100,000 years.  Basically it’s all just a joke on the fact that he’s a rich kid, which we see more clearly in omake stuff.  Speaking of which...

His dad was Yoruichi’s lieutenant in the Pendulum flashback’s era and his two appearances make it pretty clear that he’s got a kind of old school yakuza aesthetic.  A real money grubbing sleaze ball.  His name Marenoshin[希ノ進] like his son’s uses the kanji for “Rare,” the posessive No[ノ] and Shin[進] meaning “Progress” or “Advancement.”  Basically the name “Rarity’s Advancement” is just reiterating the idea that he’s someone who has amassed value/wealth.

The mother of the family is Mareka[希華], meaning “Rare Flower.”  The eldest daughter, Maremi[希美] means “Rare Beauty.”

The younger son, Marejirosabu[ 希次郎三郎] is a weird one... It reads out as “Rare Next-Son Third-Son” although the use of the second “Son”[郎] here isn’t actually counting sons (there isn’t a missing middle son between Marechiyo and Marejirosabu) it’s counting children while specifying that Marejirosabu is a son.  Or I guess an alternate reading could be that Maremi is trans and when Marejirosabu was named she had been the second son? But I wouldn’t really assume Kubo meant for anything so subtle.  If anything he might have meant it as a crass jab at her looking just like her brothers.

Also, for some reason Marejirosabu is pretty clearly designed to be a reference to Detective Conan.  But I don’t really know why?

And finally, the youngest child of the family, Mareyo[希代] means “Rare World” or “Rare Age/Era” depending on context, so I’m not entirely sure which one is intended here.

Kira[吉良] Idzuru[イヅル]  

The Kira[吉良] here reads “Good Fortune, Good” which is of course ironic because Kira is gloomy and miserable and frankly just terribly unfortunate; from his parents both being dead, to his relationship with Gin, and his general reluctance to do just about anything.

I haven’t the foggiest idea as to why Kubo never wrote his given name as anything other than katakana.  It is of course an actual name so there are different ways to write it in kanji with their own meanings, but they’re all different, and none seem like they really add to the reading, so I’m not going to try and guess which Kubo meant.  If anything Kubo’s avoidance of kanji for the name usually just goes to show that he specifically didn’t want any of their meanings to muddle the reading of the name.

But then I’m not sure why he aesthetically chose just the sound of the name Izuru,over any other names he could’ve given him...

Yamada[山田] Hanatarou[花太郎]

is actually kind of a clever one.  So I’ve mentioned before now that certain kanji are very common in japanese naming conventions either in relation to place names for surnames(-yama=“mountain,” -da=“field,“ -kawa=“river,“ -mori=”woods,” etc...) functional or explicit gender indicators for given names (-ko=“child,” -ne=“sound”: both features of common girls names; -rou=“son,” -maru=“whole,” -suke=“assist”: call common of boys names.)  Also flowers and trees and even fruit are all pretty common elements of names, elements Kubo seems particularly fond of.

The trick with Hanatarou isn’t actually that his name means anything in particular.  It reads “Mountain Field,“ and “Flower Big Son.“  But the joke here is that these are all generic kanji.  You name someone “<defining trait>+son” or “<specific flower>” and generally place names are “<defining trait>+place.”  You don’t just get the surname ”River” or “Mountain” you get things like “Shallow River” or “Fast River” or “Red River.” Basically, in ye way back olde days before surnames were really a thing the question would go;

Who are you?  Given <name>.  Where are you from?  Over by the river.  Which river?  The ______ river...

and after having that exchange constant “______River” would effectively just become a name, because you’d just begin shortening the whole conversation into; “Who are you?”  “<Name> _____River.”  And that’s the end of it.

So the joke about Hanatarou having a forgettable name, even though he insists that it’s an easy one to remember, is that his name is ONLY made up of common, non-descript kanji.  He’s not named after A Flower, he’s just named “Flower” which is not specific and doesn’t actually carry with it any implicit themes or meaning, like naming a particular kind of flower would.  It’s a funky thing to translate into English, but it’s almost like if his name were Jack Smithson in English: it’s two easy names, nothing unusual or complicated or hard to pronounce, but then everyone would constantly get his name wrong as John Smithson, James Smithson, Smith Jackson, Smith Johnson, Smith Jameson, Jameson Smith, etc...

Other Bleach - Name Games posts: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

[touchxheaven]

Got a bad roommate story i feel like telling because of recent events SO....

The year is 2017 or something and i move to Philadelphia to start a band, a year passes by and band moves in together for the sake of an easy practice space. We’re on tour in October of 2018 and bassist has a past tinder date come to a show cause it was in the area. She already confessed her LOVE for him. (this was i think their third time hanging out) He tells us he doesn’t want a relationship cause he isn’t over his ex and blah blah blah, they start dating cause that man was and always will be an idiot. She would come by our house and everyone (i live with four other people) would be cordial, friendly even.. We fucking hated her cause she only ever asked you a question so she could answer it, kinda like every washed band dude that has an interview based podcast. She was so loud and had the most annoying inflection (she’s from new jersey, the only redeeming quality of which is that it will one day be underwater) She’d fake her tastes to try and look cooler to us but it was so obvious it only evoked pity but you can’t really feel much pity for someone you don’t like, 

She’d also lie about everything else, she commented on a post in her township facebook group (great indication) to try and grandstand about handing out narcan to those in need and how she grows vegetables for her community and she lives in a house where her roommates rescue pets. (i yanked a dog off the street and a cat crawled into our house, good things to do but we wanted those animals DON’T get it twisted) I don’t know if she ate vegetables let alone was a part of a community garden (of which there are several nearby) and she certainly never touched narcan in her life (despite it being very available)  She was just a fucking assclown and we all knew it.

In the summer of 2019 we went on our longest tour to date and by day 3 she was crying on the phone begging our bassist to come home. She had zero friends (for obvious reasons) and my partner who lives with me wasn’t trying to hang out (for obvious reasons) 

We played a show in Arkansas or Alabama or something and someone from the band Thou gave us acid (thanks.) Our soon to be ex drummer (thank god, different story different day, same tour tho) and later to be ex bassist (oh look a theme) took the acid as we drove from Arkanbama to Douglasville, Georgia (that’s where The Chariot are from) where the remaining two of us slept in the parking lot, before we went to bed we noticed there where several texts and six missed calls (and counting) on our dipshit bassists phone, he was outside tripping hard and we had no intention of telling him in hopes all six or so (pathetic and fight filled) months of their relationship fell apart right then and there.

The sun shines through the fading tint of the windows in our 2003 ford van, Alex (guitar) and I wake up to see ex-drummer trying to comfort ex-bassist outside in the parking lot, someone’s crying, this is it (we think) she’s finally gonna move out and we can enjoy not tip toeing through my house to avoid that loud obnoxious south jersey loser.

Douglasville isn’t very far from Atlanta (where our next show was) so we decided to enjoy the nature of rural Georgia before the show. It was a nice day out and there were several state parks near by. Bassist spend the entire day on the phone, “We broke up.” “We’re back together.” We’re all sick of it. The show in Atlanta was a fest we shouldn’t have played as the only metalcore band on a twinkle emo fest, but the dude who booked it liked us and promised to pay us well. He didn’t even watch the set, it’s fine though, we had to deal with heart ache. Bassist really seemed like he was gonna pull the plug on things, he really fucking did, she demanded the night prior that he come home IMMEDIATELY and that just wasn’t gonna happen, there were two more days or something.

We play the remaining shows and get home, drummer is soon kicked out for something that happened on the tour, they were the only one in the band who wasn’t living with us at the time. We add our roommate Kyle on drums and a mutual friend of Alex and Bassist (who grew up together.) The point is, everyone in the band are friends now, I’m probably the most alienated cause i’m a curmudgeon but we all have a good time together, after a year and a half of me wanting to fight our drummer. 

At this point i feel like i have the hang of kicking people out of things, having evicted a guitarist prior and now our drummer from our ensemble. The final straw as this idiots roommate was her screaming about her makeup bag getting ruined in her boyfriends friends car (she left it there undoubtedly.) I think she hit him over this whole thing, I was sick of it and told everyone to get downstairs so we could tell her she has two weeks to find a new place or move home. In that whole conversation she tried to say she would stay because “squatters rights” which goes to show you how much this brainlet knows about anything. She wasn’t on the lease at all but we still allowed her to stay. I told her she would come home to all of her belongings on the street if she didn’t have a place in two weeks. I wasn’t fucking around. She ALSO tried to say she was going to keep the cat that crawled into our home prior to her moving in on the basis of “it sleeps in my room all the time” which was true but only because she closed her fucking door with it inside. I got incredibly loud with her and uh.. asserted that she didn’t want to try to take the cat that wasn’t hers out of our home.

We told dipshit bassist he didn’t have to leave but he obviously chose her over us. Which is fine I wasn’t really too fond of him as he was a spazz, funny but so fucking dumb. 

They move out together and we go on another tour, this one was ten days, not our longest but not our shortest either. First tour that wasn’t just two days together since we kicked the idiots out of our house. 

Bassist spends the entire day on the phone with her in the back of the van. We had a show seven hours away in Harrisonburg Virginia. At gas stations when we could get separation from the idiot we exchanged what we thought we heard over the phone. “Do you want me to call 911?” 

We arrive in Harrisonburgh, we’re probably an hour from playing when Bassist tells me that his girlfriend cut herself and that she’s in the hospital and he has to return home as soon as he can get a bus. Previously when she had “cut herself” while we were in Georgia I asked him if he ever saw the scars. He said no (this is because there weren’t any) So i told him what any person would and said he was being manipulated and this constitutes an abusive relationship (as if fighting and her hitting him didn’t already.) 

 I am fairly certain that if you end up in the hospital with self harm scars they don’t allow you to have contact with anyone on the outside for 72 hours, I could be wrong, but regardless this idiot was liking stupid white girl tweets the entire time, not indicative of someone who tried to take their own life because their boyfriend has been gone for ten hours. We spend the night at the house we played at, woke up, he was gone. He took his bass with him without asking us, which i understand was his property but i could have easily played the instrument while doing vocals for the remaining days, or we could have taught our second guitarist the bass parts before the next show and played as a 4 piece again. We ended up managing to get fill ins for most of the shows which was insane, performances ranged from insane to “what are you doing” but we were having way more fun without the dude.

We obviously kicked him out of the band soon after, haven’t seen him since. Felt like sharing this story as him and his stupid girlfriend got jumped last night. I smiled so fucking hard about it. 

Ex-Bassist still has 750 dollars that they owe me cause i covered their rent for months while they quit job after job because “i’m just not fulfilled here.” She still spends all day online talking about shit she has no clue about to try and seem cool for like one like per tweet, not that likes matter for shit but you just KNOW she wants them bad. Only reason I know they got jumped is cause she tweeted about it and I lurk occasionally cause obviously i have problems keeping an eye on things i wish would cease being.

Kinda pointless story but mildly amusing, might tell more stories if i’m bored enough, this has been a good time kill 

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

I have complicated feelings towards Cates’ Venom run.

On a fundamental level I refuse to financially support it. Not because of anything to do with him but because I just cannot bring myself to support a Venom anti-hero solo book. Venom should be a Spider-Man villain and nothing more.

You also have the issue of his outright ignoring a lot of established history for Venom.

But this is where things get complicated.

Because he’s a million miles from the first guy to ignore established lore around the symbiotes or their hosts and arbitrarily insert new contradictory stuff. He’s not even one of a select group. The symbiotes are consistent in their inconsistency if anything and Cates in trying to make a lot of those inconsistencies reconcile is actually better than most.

Yet it’s not even that he’s ignoring old continuity. It’s that the new continuity he’s supplanting it with is...good.

That’s the harsh truth of the matter.

He’s reconstructed Eddie Brock in the mode of ‘Venom the solo anti-hero protagonist’* as a more compelling and workable character for the long term future.

His backstory for Brock is immensely more effective than his Lethal Protector backstory because it actually goes all in on Venom being an anti-hero, of being sympathetic and genuinely wanting to protect the innocent. The Lethal Protector backstory was kind of half-hearted in that regard probably because Michelinie didn’t actually agree with making Venom that in the first place.

Cates though, whom I’m willing to bet was a child of the 90s, clearly has a fondness for that era.** More importantly though he is a talented writer who I think recognizes the weaknesses in those stories.

The end result is something that carries a lot of the spirit of those 1990s stories but has better craftsmanship behind them.

I think this is most evident in his revised backstory for the symbiotes compared to Bendis’.

Bendis doesn’t like the symbiotes. Not really. He resisted doing Venom in USM for a while. At best he grew a fondness for his take  on the symbiotes but held little love for what they were during the height of their popularity in the 1990s.

I can understand that. I was a child of the 1990s and even I have mixed feelings towards that stuff.

Bendis’ backstory for the symbiotes I think sought to smooth over their rougher edges, to present them as nice creatures and essentially recontextualized the symbiotes as fans had come to know and love them as mutants to the real symbiotes.

Cates though his origin, whilst still changing how you viewed the symbiotes, changing how you look at them, is tonally and spiritually far more in keeping with how they had come to be defined.

When you think about it the symbiotes as a species was an invention of the 1990s. Yes we figured of course there must be other creatures like the Venom symbiote out there in the universe, but we never saw another one until Carnage showed up. By that point the teeth and tongue look for Venom had also become iconic.

Essentially all symbiotes thereafter modelled their looks and behaviours upon Venom and Carnage.

Which meant there was this very much 1990s, ‘gnarly’ heavy metal element to them. Carnage himself is a heavy metal kind of character, and was before he ever got his symbiote. We see him listening to heavy metal, the climax of his debut story takes place at a heavy metal concert. Maximum Carnage introduces Carnage’s lover Shriek who (from her name, costume and powers) clearly evoked elements of certain heavy metal bands like Kiss.***

When you look at the stuff with Knull, the symbiote dragon, the Vietnam symbiote soldiers, the cult of Carnage (another Manson reference perhaps), a lot of this stuff arguably would be at home on the cover of heavy metal albums.

Cates gets  the symbiotes in this sense. He gets them arguably better than anyone before or since him because he isn’t randomly adding in new elements to them, but has a plan.

Which is why I’ve decided to actually check out...Absolute Carnage.

I cannot promise to cover it on this blog issue by issue...but I will try my best to read it.

P.S. my musical knowledge is laughable so if I’m wrong on anything above or below please do inform me.

*As opposed to Eddie Brock in the mdoes of ‘Venom the villain antagonist to Spidey’, ‘Toxin the villain antagonist to Agent Venom’, ‘Toxin the anti-heroic member of a team of antagonists to Carnage’, ‘Anti-Venom the solo anti-hero protagonist’ or ‘Anti-Venom the anti-hero guest star’

**The fact that he also has committed himself to a Thanos story speaks to this. Thanos fans tend to be children of the 1970s when he debuted and had his first big story, children of the 2010s when he was relevant again due to movies or of the 1990s when he had his most iconic outing in Infinity Gauntlet.

***Carnage, Shriek and their ‘children’ (Demogoblin, Doppelganger and Carrion) during Maximum Carnage were also probably influenced by the cult of the Manson family who themselves were vaguely (in a non-creepy way) influential upon another arguably heavy metal bands like Marilyn Manson and Guns n’ roses who were big in the 1990s.

[harusha]

I just saw your post about PJ and I'm wondering, do you have any book recs?

On mythology specifically or overall? I’m gonna do both since I’m not sure. Also sorry for the relatively late reply, I had to think about this, and I just got back from dinner.

The Count of Monte Cristo- Fantastic page turner, and a genuinely good “revenge” tale. It’s actually one of the first of that kind (or at the very least, one of the most popular ones). It’s also a book that a lot of people cite as the one that changes their mind on classics as “boring.”

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn- Somewhat of a controversial pick (both because of its subject matter and because it’s often “required high school reading,” ie “boring” to a lot of people.)

Huck Finn is an exceedingly complex character, and his friendship with Jim is really good. Pay attention to what Huck Finn does and says; he’s an unreliable narrator due to how he was brought up, his age, and his illiteracy. There’s also a lot of symbolism and other literary devices at play in his character (ex. notice his fixation with death and how it colors how Twain writes him). It’s very much a book I recommend if you want to study the unreliable narrator as a trope, the  Naïf version of it.

As a side note, it’s very poignant because of how Huck learns to condemn his racism. One of the messages you can get from this book is “If this uneducated poor white boy can learn to overcome his prejudices, so too can someone who has been educated, has money, etc.” It is a brutal condemnation of racism (though you do have to consider the time period, the “lens” of which you have to view through.)

Lolita- Another controversial pick, and one I’ll upright say as a lot of trigger warnings attached (google the summary, and you’ll see what I mean).

Beautiful prose (some of my favorite in literature actually) and a monster of a protagonist. When you read this, remember how Humbert Humbert is framing it. He is telling his tale to a court; he is unreliable and will frame events to make himself appear sympathetic. One notable factor of the author’s skill is how often Humbert gains the readers’ sympathy despite the atrocious subject matter. I personally felt viscerally uncomfortable reading his thoughts, and this is one of the few books that has ever made me feel that way. I didn’t fall into the sympathy trap, but look at any discussion of the book, and you’ll see what I mean.

I also recommend this author’s (Vladimir Nabokov) other works.

Franz Kafka’s literary works- Kafka is one of my favorite authors because he really showcases the isolation (both due to WWI, technological advancement, and the “beginnings” of modern capitalism) of the beginning of the 1900s, and he’s one of modernism’s premier authors. His works often deal with the themes of isolation, judgement, and outcasts. 

In particular, I’m fond of “The Metamorphosis” (cliche pick I know) and “In the Penal Colony.” The former is a short story so quick read if you just wanna try his writing style + it’s very influential (See Part 1 of Tokyo Ghoul for one example).

Also know that Kafka had a very strained relationship with his father and a conflicted relationship with his religion. I recommend reading “Letter to his Father” first to get an understanding of Kafka’s psyche to truly get pass the “nonsensical” nature of his works. It, like the title says, is a letter he wrote to his father, but his mother never delivered it.

If you want even more info on Kafka to understand his works, I recommend Kafka: Judaism, Politics, and Literature which covers a lot more (and in more succinct words) than I can on his works and life. As a fun fact, Vladimir Nabokov also placed him as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. On Kafka himself, he thought he was a failure of a human being and writer, and now look at him. He’s up there in the Western Canon with Shakespeare.

Paradise Lost + Paradise Regained- If you’re interested in Lucifer (or Samael if you subscribe to that theory), this is a must-read. Beautiful, haunting, and with a very charismatic figure in Lucifer. Alongside the obvious Divine Comedy, this work has influenced the portrayal of Lucifer and Hell quite a bit imo. Namely, the “sympathetic” portrayal you find in works such as Supernatural. It’s also an epic poem so it’s best listened to imo rather than read.

No Longer Human- Osamu Dazai’s work if you’re into that one show. An incredibly depressing book that’s often thought to be semi-autobiographical. It’s a haunting book that I don’t recommend for prose, but for the mood it evokes. I don’t recommend this unless you’re in a decent state of mind.

The Catcher in the Rye- Mildly controversial pick in that you either hate Holden or love him. It’s a book where you have to be in the “right” state of mind to appreciate Holden. For example, the period of moving away from home for college  This work deals with societal isolation and human loneliness and features an unreliable narrator.

It’s just a very particular feeling you have to be experiencing to appreciate Holden. I think anyway.

The Epic of Gilgamesh- Not super fancy or a reinterpretation of whatever. Just the oldest known written work of mankind. I like it a lot, but I like Sumerian myth so YMMV. It’s still missing a few tablets last I checked, but still a good read.

Also the related Enuma Elish, you get the creation myth.

Vampire Chronicles- I recommend the first three or four so books honestly. Afterwards, Anne Rice just goes off the rails. Prose is pretty, and Lestat is a terrible person but fascinating to read about. I am partial to Armand though tbh.

Dracula- I think this is another page-turner. I certainly enjoyed it. I don’t think it’s as scary as it would be in its’ published time period, but it is a classic Gothic horror. The unabridged version may look intimidating, but like Monte Cristo, you’ll sweep through it rather quickly.

“A Rose for Emily”- One of William Faulkner’s short stories. I think it’s a lovely piece and showcases the Southern Gothic (crumbling house, decaying and failing tradition and the southern nobility, etc.) There’s a theme of decay and time passing throughout this work.

As a side note, I actually enjoy Faulkner a lot, but he’s a difficult author imo. It’s not as apparent in this work, but more so in Intruder in the Dust (the first racial thriller) and especially The Sound and The Fury.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof- A play that deals with repressed homosexuality (maybe, it depends on how you interpret Brick’s dialogue and actions), loss, and denial. I quite like it a lot, and Tennessee Williams actually was gay (was because he’s dead and all). I read it, but tbh I feel like it would be better watched if you can find a performance on Youtube.

The Picture of Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde’s most well known work imo. I enjoy the prose and the themes of corruption and indulgence present throughout the novel. There’s also a lot of allusions to Faust in it if you’re interested in that.

Peter Darling-a more modern choice but it features a trans and gay protagonist. Part of what I enjoy is how it’s not browbeaten into you that the protagonist is trans. It’s interwoven into the character where it’s an important part of him, but to where it doesn’t overwhelm his entire character. However, this is a novel where I feel the beginning and ending are great, but the middle is so-so. It’s a retelling of Peter Pan.

The Tain- Focuses on Cu Cuchulain and his cycle.

Poetic Edda- A must read if you’re interested in exploring Norse myths outside of Marvel. It’s basically a collection of tales.

Arabian Nights- Scheherazade is one of my favorite female figures from literature. She’s daring, clever, and particularly resourceful. It’s a frame narrative sort of tale so you technically won’t be seeing her as much since she’s telling each story, but it’s a lovely piece and perfect for a bedtime read because of its collection of tales. A lot of them have been referenced in media and related as well.

The Book Thief- Classic YA novel rec. It’s set in WWII and one of the novels that really showcases what YA could be. Basically a classic gem in the rough pile.

John Keats- He’s a poet, but I love his poetry because of how haunting and dark it can get; he often deals with themes of mortality.. Ode to Nightingale is particularly good.

China’s Four Great Classical Novels (Journey to the West, Dreams of the Red Chamber, Water Margin, Romance of the Three Kingdoms)- I decided to clump them here since this is already super long. Each one is incredibly well-known in Asia (and obviously China), and you can find allusions everywhere to these four novels. Each novel is rather long and expensive though (I paid like 40 USD for each set). Journey to the West follows Sun Wukong, unarguably one of the most well-known figures in literature (at least in the East; he’s super influential, but somewhat less so in the West; keyword somewhat). Dreams of the Red Chamber has some very pretty poems, but it’s often thought to be the semi autobiographical work of the author (it deals with the rise and fall of his family and the dynasty).

Daiyu’s flower poem is one of the most memorable for example.

The blossoms fade, the blossoms fly,  the blossoms fill the sky. Their crimson fades, their scent dies out,  and who is there to pity?  Drifting threads gently twist together  and float past the springtime lodge;  Falling willow floss lightly sticks  and strikes the lady’s window drapes.

Water Margin is a bit “bawdier” than the other ones imo, but it’s a good tale and has many notable figures and scenes. On Three Kingdoms, it’s the one I’d recommend to start with if you’re interested in military intrigue and battles.

I also have a Goodreads where I organize everything by shelf if you prefer to look at that. I do need to update it though tbh.

https://www.goodreads.com/Mahariel

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Secret-Diary Recommends Some Music

I’m not exactly a ‘music person’, in that I don’t know a lot about the mechanics that underpin it: I couldn’t look at sheet music and tell you what the tune is or describe the change in chords in a classical piece. I’m not even 100% sure what the difference between a Ukulele and a Banjo is, aside from the fact that one is played by coquettish islanders while I get shit-faced on Pina Colladas in the background and the other is played by Louisiana bootleggers from the 1920s with comedy accents. All that being said, I know enough to know that the overwhelming preponderance of music produced today is total crap. Every time I’m foolish enough to tune a radio to a musical station, there’s a new barely-pubescent twatwipe peeping about their feelings in a tupperware voice that strongly suggests they don’t actually have any. Either that or its some nominally grown-ass man or woman singing something that they imagine is sassy and empowering but actually just makes them sound like Gary from World’s End- only less charming, because immature, quasi-literate manbabies are infinitely more annoying when they’re real. The point is, it’s a fucking wasteland out there. Trying to find a band (from now or the past) who you’d actually want to listen to can be a chore. That’s why, as your gracious patron and benefactor, I’ve decided to share the fruits of my musical explorations with you and hit you with some recommendations. I’ve tried to be as eclectic as possible, since I want everyone who reads this to find something they’ll like, no matter how radically divergent their individual tastes are. Some of the entries on this list are famous, some are obscure and some were famous but have been made obscure by the passage of time. I’ve tried to limit myself to people whose music you might not be fully aware of, even if you’ve heard of them to some extent, but I’m not plugged into what is and isn’t popular with peeps nowadays, so don’t read too much into my choices if they seem either too obvious or too bizarre. Here goes.

1. The Orion Experience An ultra-camp synthesis of New Romantic music, bubble-gum pop and modern vocal stylings, The Orion Experience are unlike anything else you’ll have heard recently. They seem to borrow as much from the original Decadent tradition in art and literature as from later musical iterations, meaning that their lyrics are complex and sophisticated without being especially deep. They’re primarily concerned with building aesthetically-interesting and richly-evocative language-constructs rather than performing an emotion that no-one in the band is actually feeling. The deliberate artifice is deeply refreshing in a musical landscape of faked sincerity and forced emoting. I recommend starting with the songs The Cult of Dionysus and Sugar. If you like those, the rest of their stuff may also interest you.

2. Trace Adkins During an attempt to write a wild west/sci-fi fusion novel, I went on a musical odyssey, looking for apposite songs that would gel well with the world I was building (knowing a world’s soundtrack can help cement that world in your imagination- try it, if you’re a writer yourself). Anyway, I stumbled across Trace Adkins- a country singer with a palpable sense of humour about being a country singer and a knack for delivering a silly-but-well-turned phrase. Also, without getting technical, his tunes just flat-out rock. I have no idea how well known he in the Country and Western World, but since his existence came as news to me, I’m sticking him on this list. Start with the surprisingly sexy Honky Tonk Badonkadonk and graduate to Hot Momma and Whoop a Man’s Ass. You’ll know if it’s your sort of thing from the first minute of any of those songs.

3. Caravan Palace Have ye heard of a thing called Electric Swing? If you’re reading a blog post about music, you probably have, but just in case you haven’t, let me tell you it’s a fantastic genre. Imagine if The Great Gatsby owned a synth and took a fuckload of mind-squanching hallucinogens. Well, that’s Electric Swing. Few do it better than Caravan Palace, who also seem to borrow heavily from club music and other genres, adding these to their unique blend. For some pure Electric Swing, start with Susie. For something a little more modern, start with Lone Digger.

4. 11 Acorn Lane Speaking of Electric Swing, I can also recommend 11 Acorn Lane, whose lyrics can be a little more playful than those of Caravan Palace. They also have a somewhat more classic sound. Start with Let’s Face it I’m Cute for a great sample of their work.

5. The Fratellis Now, my UK readers have almost certainly heard of The Fratellis, since they actually got some traction on mainstream radio over here. I’m less sure about those of you reading along in America, so allow me to make an introduction. Their music is joyously and unapologetically grimy and proletarian, paring an unrivaled sense of fun and energy with a sly, low-key feeling of cynicism and detachment. The tunes and melodies evoke Rock, punk and New-Wave (think The Ramones by way of The Proclaimers) without wholly relying on any of them. Check out Chelsea Dagger or Henrietta to hear them at their most gleefully up-tempo-yet-jaded, or try Vince the Lovable Stoner for a more chill, tongue-in-cheek song.

5. Dionne Warwick You’ve probably heard of her in connection with There’s Always Something There to Remind Me, especially since it featured heavily in that one fantastic episode of Black Mirror. However, you might not have realised just how much she’s contributed to musical history: her soft-yet-powerful voice and classic Rock rhythms and tunes combine to create something archetypal yet unique. Leap right in with Do You Know the Way to San Jose and discover a fucking legend.

6. Rufus Rex Ever wanted to hear a freakishly talented man singing songs based on horror films and books (particularly the works of H.P. Lovecraft) in a style that evokes Goth music but defies genre on closer inspection? Then get your arse over to Rufus Rex and start plumbing the nightmarish depths of horror-music with the song World’s In Between.

7. Studio Killers Contemporary electronic music with surprisingly inventive and weird lyrics. That about sums up Studio Killers, really. Look, not everything on this list can be genre-transcendent or epoch-defining: some things are just very good examples of the type of music they belong to. If you haven’t heard of them, start with the song Eros and Apollo then check out Ode to the Bouncer, then compare and contrast: those two songs represent the two opposite edges of the musical spectrum they cover, so if you like either one, at least some of their songs will be for you. Also, treat yourself to the music videos on Youtube: they’re surreal and awsesome.

8. Fishbone A punky ska band from back in the day, Fishbone are on this list for one reason and one reason only: Party at Ground Zero. Party at Ground Zero is an upbeat, gloriously energetic song about nuclear war. It’s a total jam and you absolutely have to experience it for yourself.

9. Tomska Tomska... isn’t technically a professional musician. He’s a Youtube comedian, short-film maker and collaborative animator who became internet-famous for his ‘ASDF movies’. On the off-chance that you haven’t seen them, they’re short collections of animated skits and jokes rendered in a simple but immediately-compelling and recognisable style. Anyway, Tomska decided to create fast-paced, catchy songs about some of the recurring characters in his ASDF movies, and those songs turned out to be fucking amazing- being both laugh-out-loud funny and actually really musically ambitious and well put together. Check them out on his channel. I’m particularly fond of Mine Turtles, but you do you.

10. Paul Anka Big band and jazz musician Paul Anka once set out on a quest to create 1920s-sounding versions of famous rock ‘n’ roll songs and the results can only be described as ‘eargasmically epic’. His versions of Jump and Eye of the Tiger are, frankly, better than the originals.

Right, that’s everything I can thing of for now. I’m going to go make myself a big sandwich. By the time your read this, I’ll be settling down with two-slices of bread, some cheese and an unreasonably large amount of cranberry sauce. All the songs and bands in today’s entry are on Youtube, so go have a nosy. Until next time, peace out and fuck off!

[bringhopetohumanity]

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? Short. She’s 4′7″/140cm. That’s not much taller than most mobians. Given that she’s only twelve she’ll get taller if as she gets older.

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? It’s a good height when your brother is a mobian! But for things intended for humans she sometimes wishes she was taller. High shelves are the bane of her existence.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? Soft and fluffy with a bit of bounce. If you started running your fingers through you’d have a hard time stopping.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? Maria takes good care of her hair. She doesn’t spend hours on it like she knows some people do, but she washes it often and uses nice shampoos so it comes out nice and soft. As for styling all she really does is brush it the way she wants it and adds her hairband.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? Maria cares what she thinks. She wants to look pretty and/or cute and does her best to achieve that. What other people think of her looks doesn’t matter to her. Unless it’s family then she cares a bit more, but doesn’t always take their advice.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ? Outdoors! She’s been longing for the great outdoors all her life. Given the chance she’ll stay outside as long as reasonable. Until it becomes a hazard to her health you’ll find her with the sky overhead.

▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ? While sunshine is beautiful and warm she’d pick rain. Something she could never have back on the ARK. No the shower is absolutely not the same. Unless it’s storm levels of downpour she’ll probably be standing in it with no umbrella. And then have Shadow scold her because that’s how you catch a cold and that’d be a stupid reason to die. ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?   Either, but leaning toward the beach. Maria loves nature in all its forms and would be quite happy in a little cottage in the woods. But the beach, oh goodness the ocean entrances her. She’ll spend hours just watching the waves, taking in that salty air, and digging her fingers into the warm sand. ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?   Gems are prettier. Plus she knows Shadow’s powers work better around those gems called Chaos Emeralds so there’s a bit of a bias there. But gems are just so much more beautiful then metals.

▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ? Flowers. Perfumes smell lovely and can emulate a great many things but Maria would prefer the natural scent in its purest form. Flowers any day. ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?   Personality. What is most important is how the person acts, how they treat others, what are their interests and dreams? Personality is key. Never judge a book by its cover. Never judge a person by their looks.

But Maria is attracted to pretty girls. Beauty is subjective of course and she doesn’t have set-in-stone standards. She likes those that feel ethereal in some way. That just with your appearance you evoke that feeling of being an angel in another life. Personality helps with this but it is looks that grab her first. ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?   A crowd. Always. Even if she doesn’t know anyone there she just doesn’t want to be alone. Too many days spent on her own staring out a window, trying as hard as she can to find a bright side. Too many days alone before Abe and Shadow. She’ll always take a crowd. ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?   Order. Anarchy is chaos and chaos causes bad things to happen. Order is peace. Order is calm. Order is the best way to do things. Unless of course you mean some kind of dystopian order, in which case she will fully support anarchy provided no-one is hurt. Protest and break in and overthrow the evil people. Just don’t hurt and/or kill anyone in the process.

▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?  White lies. She wants people to be happy and if that’s what it takes then so be it. It’s not a big lie. It won’t affect them for years to come. It won’t damage their psyche. It’s just a little minor lie that keeps them from being sadder.

▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?   Science of course! She’s a Robotnik after all; it runs in the family. She leans toward medical science if we’re getting specific. She’s also a kid though and is willing to believe in magic if you can convince her that it doesn’t break the laws of physics. ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?   Peace. Maria has only ever wanted peace. The world would be a better place if everyone put down their weapons, talked things over, and learned to love each other. ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  Day. She’s had the night sky all her life up in space. Maria will always prefer day. The sun shining overhead, clouds floating on by, everything lit naturally. Even on dreary and cloudy/rainy days she still prefers them to the night.

▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ? Dawn. As I said she’s had night all her life. What a joy it is to watch the sun climb up the horizon and bathe the world in its bright warmth! Maria will get up early, even if she’s exhausted, just to watch the sunrise. It’s something no-one should take for granted.

▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ? Warmth. Even though the ARK was heated it just felt cold. The nature of a metal space station full of research experiments. The warmth to Maria came from the people, not the place. She prefers Earth which is warm in both aspects.

If we’re talking just basic temperature the same applies. Maria prefers to be warm but her stature makes her easily cold. She likes to have warm clothes and lots of blankets/a heated blanket in colder temperatures.

▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?  A few close friends. Maria will take either honestly but she likes to be close to the people she knows. She wants to really get to know them and be a part of their lives.

▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? Maria is a fidgeter. No matter the situation she wants to be moving. This stems from so many days laid up in the medical wing’s beds. There is a longing there to not waste her time by doing nothing so she unconsciously satisfies it by doing small things to keep idle; fiddling with any accessories she’s wearing, running a hand through her hair, swinging her legs from a tall chair, re-organizing the objects around her, etc. It has driven more than one researcher up the wall when she’s visiting them and can’t keep still while they work.

There’s also the little white lies as mentioned above. Small things to keep people happier. She knows lying is bad but sometimes the best option truly is ‘what they don’t know can’t hurt them’. If a lie can make it better and not majorly affect things then that will be her first instinct. Maria will also lie to protect her friends on a small scale. Like say Abe or Shadow accidentally broke something and hid the evidence. ❝Well if it’s gone missing can you get a new one?❞ Until they fess up she’ll cover for them.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? She lost her parents when she was too young to remember. There are photos of Alice and Cyril with little baby Maria, and the stories Gerald tells of his daughter and her husband, but that’s all she’s ever known of them. There’s a sadness in her when she hears those stories and looks at those photos but its a sadness of never having the opportunity to know them.

She also lost her grandfather, the only father she ever knew, later in life. In my main verse she doesn’t know this. Only in my ghost verse is she aware of what her death did to him. It devastated her how much she hurt him, and how much he hurt Shadow in turn. But she refuses to remember him that way. She holds her head high and keeps him in her heart with all the happy memories they shared.

Maria knows people would rather be remembered fondly so she tries not to get too sad over them. Oh she’ll be a wreck at first but eventually she’ll smile when thinking of them rather than cry.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?   Family time. Sometimes if he had a break from work Gerald would join in Shadow and Maria’s games or read to them. Those moments the three of them spent as a family will always be remembered fondly.

Also the games she played with Abe. To her he’s not the Commander of GUN. He’s just the little boy who was always trying to cheer her up with some silly game. Even though she wasn’t physically fit she tried her hardest to be a good playmate. He was excellent at tag and hide-n-seek and never treated her as anything less than an equal. She treasures those memories.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? Oh god no! Maria would never. Could never.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ?  When Maria breaks she becomes a sobbing mess. I hate the term ‘ugly cry’ cause no-one is pretty when they’re crying, but Maria definitely fits the usage of that term and what it entails.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? Yes. Not many people but yes. Gerald, Shadow, and Abe is about the extent of that list. Maybe Ivo if she gets to know him better. Maria is a very trusting girl but her life has always been on borrowed time. You’d better be able to take care of it.

Of course on the flipside as much as she cares about herself she cares about others more. Those people I mentioned? She’d sacrifice herself in a heartbeat if it meant they got to keep living. Hence taking a bullet for Shadow.

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ?  Maria is quite happy and giggly, always trying to do nice things for her crush. Do you like this? Let me get it for you! Oh you’ve always wanted to go there? Let’s go together! Her selflessness has always been at 11 but the way she throws herself at the object of her affections...

She can be a bit clingy in this regard. She understands though if they want to back away because of it. She’ll give them their space. Hopefully they’ll come back. Maria can be intense in her affections. It’s best that they are directed at someone who can handle this and return them equally. That would be her ideal partner later in life.

[multiimuse]

☆☁ ☂ εжз❤❥❣✖♡ for the stray dogs :)

☆ : Would they ever wish upon a falling star? If so, what would they wish?

Chuuya - Please, as if there’s any value in something that stupid. You won’t catch him doing it. Make your changes yourself, get what you want yourself, and if you can’t, then it probably wasn’t worth wanting, anyway.

Alcott - Absolutely. It isn’t that she necessarily believes it will amount to anything, but there’s always the chance that it could. As for what she would wish for? Her family to be happy and whole again.

Ranpo - Depending on his mood at the time, yes. But he wouldn’t wish for anything serious; maybe that he’d win a lifetime’s supply of candy, or that a case comes it that isn’t boring and barely worth bothering with. ... The candy wish has better odds.

☁ : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day.

Chuuya - He’s not one to pay too much attention to the weather, unless for some reason he’s spending a rare private day at home. If that’s the case, he’ll devote his time to one of his private hobbies. There is something to be said for writing poetry on a rainy day, after all. 

Alcott - Did you mean an excuse to bury herself in books? Because that’s what storms and rainy days are for her; she’ll stay inside with a good book and some tea and keep herself thoroughly occupied in the process.

Ranpo - If he has to go out on a case on a rainy day? He’ll spend it complaining and will absolutely require a bribe to get him to head out. If he has nothing to do he’ll hole up in the office with his snacks and computer card games; he’s not very fond of having to go out when it’s wet.

☂ : Storms or clear skies?

Chuuya - Clear skies. Storms are an inconvenience. (Though a fight in a storm is pretty damn fun sometimes.)

Alcott - She prefers storms, as long as she can stay inside and watch them without being exposed to them!

Ranpo - Clear skies, if mostly because particularly bad storms make it hard to do anything fun!

εжз : What about nature do they find calming? What about nature do they find disagreeable?

Chuuya - The ocean’s pretty calming, if you can find a place to watch it that’s away from the major ports. It’s relaxing to watch the water now and then. He doesn’t like how quiet and isolated heavily-natural areas tend to be, though: give him the city, give him places full of people and the things they create. It’s what he knows and what he’s comfortable with.

Alcott - She finds rainfall calming, along with falling snow and  warm fires. She doesn’t like when it gets too hot, and pollen is the bane of her existence every spring. ... Also, insects. They’re a part of nature, but they’re a part that she dislikes and thinks should stay away from her.

Ranpo - There’s really nothing in nature Ranpo finds calming, per se; it’s just kind of there, full of things to notice and remember if it involves a care but that can’t hold his attention on its own. Hm, maybe you could call that disagreeable, in a way?

❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust. 

Chuuya - Generally, one of the easiest ways to tell if Chuuya trusts you is if he falls asleep on or near you. He can’t and won’t let himself rest around someone he doesn’t trust, bar overindulging in alcohol. So, then, if he falls asleep, he trusts you not to betray him or harm him or otherwise let him come to harm. (Using Corruption is also something of an exception, because he literally can’t stay awake after it ends; his body and mind need rest too much to let him remain alert in the immediate aftermath.)

Alcott - She’ll smile more, she’ll try to be helpful, and most importantly you’ll see her more often, because she won’t be hiding away as much when she gets shy and anxious. If she trusts someone, she feels safe enough to stay by their side, even when she’s scared. 

Ranpo - With Ranpo,when he trusts someone, he’ll listen to them. He’s naturally prone to trusting his own intellect and opinions above everyone else’s, so listening to and acknowledging others’ opinions and points doesn’t come easily to him. In fact this can be a struggle regardless, but that he’s willing to make the effort to try and to pay attention goes a long way toward showing how much he trusts a person.

❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

Chuuya - A verbal expression of Chuuya’s trust would have to be him admitting things about himself; things he isn’t comfortable bringing up or talking about --- vulnerable areas that would normally never be addressed at all. In addition, he tends to worry more openly about the people he trusts, which includes asking after them especially when he has cause for concern. 

Alcott - When she trusts someone, Louisa talks to them! She becomes more vocal. and while her uncertainty and anxiety aren’t gone, she can carry on full conversations, often at-length. In short, she’s more sociable when she trusts you, and it’s very, very obvious. (In addition, she’s much less afraid of voicing complaints and exasperation with the people she trusts completely, because she knows their reactions well enough to be sure it’s something she can handle.)

Ranpo - This one is hard to answer, because Ranpo is pretty open, verbally speaking. He’ll ramble about anything and everything anyway without caring whether or not it makes sense to anyone but him; he’ll whine and complain and demand ego-stroking from the world at large. His sign of trust is in the pauses, in holding his words back, in not complaining when he otherwise would be --- and, perhaps most significantly, with very specific people and specific circumstances, he’ll be straightforward and focused, dropping the whining and immaturity because there are things more important than his comfort zone.

❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them.

Chuuya - ...For one thing, don’t mock him. Don’t mock him or wind him up and manipulate him. Show an interest in his interests, appreciate his tastes, and don’t pry too much into details that he doesn’t want to share. Granted, to get to this point you already have to have built up a certain amount of trust with him, or else he’ll stay relatively neutral. And if you’re on his bad side, good luck. (That being said, if someone like Dazai stopped mocking him he’d be suspicious and somewhat concerned by default.)

Alcott - Keep her in tea and books, respect her need to have time to herself to think and plan, reassure her if her anxiety’s getting to be too much. Relatively simple things, really; she’s easy to please and doesn’t see a point in asking for much when it’s much better to appreciate what’s being given freely. It’s just good manners, really!

Ranpo - Give him candy, help him navigate the train system, get the marble out of the ramune bottle for him, apply liberal amounts of praise. More specifically? Treat him like a person, have patience with him (he knows he can be aggravating to say the least; he just doesn’t see a point in changing himself. He is how he is and that’s that. Try to give him mental challenges --- even if they end up too easy, he’s still appreciative when someone’s willing to try!

✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive.

Chuuya - The main thing that bothers Chuuya is the threat of betrayal and a loss of control. If you want to make him uneasy you need to make him doubt the loyalty of the people he’s surrounded by (admittedly not an easy thing) or make him feel like he isn’t in control of himself, his life, or his future. It’s one thing to serve a good boys, it’s another to be jerked around like someone’s plaything on a string, and not only does the latter tick him off, an implication that he might lose that security is unnerving if you can get enough weight behind it to make it convincing.

Alcott - She’s something of a nervous person anyway, so it’s not hard to make her uneasy. In particular, however she doesn’t deal well with risk and uncertainties. That’s why she works so hard to try and cover every detail possible in her strategy plans, and why she wants to be prepared for any eventuality. Catch her off-guard and make her have to deal with that fear she has of things being unpredictable or dangerous and she’ll be unsettled for ages.

Ranpo - It’s not particularly easy to make Ranpo anxious; he’s smart enough to see most threats coming and he’s surrounded by capable people who know how to look after themselves. However, if Fukuzawa and/or the Agency is threatened, and it’s a real threat, one that he hasn’t yet figured out how to deal with, one that can’t be prepared for, he’ll be knocked off-balance. In fact, anything that threatens his security will make him a little apprehensive, but again that’s very hard to do because his safety net is so strong. (However looking at recent manga events... ahaha...)

♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back.

Chuuya - There’s nothing that really evokes nostalgia in him, per se, but being near the docks when the fishing boats are bringing their catches sure does bring back one memory in particular. Mainly that of Dazai being dragged up in a fishing net along with the day’s catch, and the fact that he smelled like fish for a week afterword. He’ll never forget that incident.

Alcott - The scent of a fireplace will always make her feel a little nostalgic, especially if it’s accompanied by other sensory experiences such as soft music, particularly piano music. That particular smell reminds her of her early childhood, winters spent curled up together and listening to her father read to them all, or gathered around the piano while her middle sister played.

Ranpo -  Jasmine and lilies does this to Ranpo. That’s the scent of his mother’s favorite perfume, and smelling it reminds him of his life with his parents while they were still alive. Memories of the world making sense and being absolutely safe, knowing that adults who were smarter than him were looking out for him and loved him. He doesn’t (let himself) think about his parents too often, but that smell will take him right back every time.

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 3: Warwick

Warwick is one of the oldest champions in League of Legends, having been added all the way back in 2009. As a certain other content creator is fond of saying: “Older League champions were made to embody an archetype, not undermine it.” Warwick was made to be League’s resident werewolf. That’s about where the concept for his character begins and ends. Despite the simplicity of this concept, Warwick has a rather interesting history in that he’s been retconned no less than four different times since his debut.

Luckily for us, his first few lore states are all fairly simplistic, written before a time when champion bios were more than a couple paragraphs long, if that. I’ll include a link to the wiki for those who are curious, but I’ll also do my best to summarize each of prior bios and their respective issues before moving on to the Warwick we now know today.

In his very first bio, Warwick was a mercenary who was pinned down in a cave while trying to defend an Ionian citadel. He made a potion using things he just happened to have on-hand to give himself a strength boost in hopes of turning the tides and saving himself, because he was also an alchemist, apparently. This potion had the nasty side-effect of turning him into a big angry wolf man that let him slaughter his enemies. Warwick then proceeded to just… Return to being a mercenary, I guess, because apparently being a werewolf-for-hire is a very lucrative business.

I don’t think I need to elaborate much on why this version of the lore is lackluster; it offers no context or characterization for Warwick beyond him being a mercenary and an alchemist. The wolf transformation doesn’t even pose any kind of tragedy; if anything, it makes his mercenary career soar, so what’s the issue? It’s a poorly-written bio, but in all fairness, all of League’s lore from those days was kinda bad. Still, Warwick’s was so bad that he was apparently what of the few characters Riot felt the need to retcon even before the 2015 reboot. Let’s see how he handled his next lore, shall we?

Alright, well… That was a thing. Now, I wanna be clear and state that I don’t mean to just roast the writers here; that’s not what Runeterra Retcons is about. Still, it’s… Kinda hard not to make fun of this, let’s be honest. The only thing it does is give a bit more context for Warwick’s alchemical background and change his transformation from a potion gone wrong to a curse, and by Soraka no less. “Ah yes, this human is indirectly killing people with chemicals, so I’ll force him to kill them directly with teeth and claws as a werewolf.” Good… Job?

Obviously, this was from a time when Soraka was new and she didn’t have much of a fleshed-out lore either, though it does introduce the idea of Riot trying to paint a sort of rivalry between the two, as well as attempt to actually make Warwick’s transformation seem like a tragic fate… Even if it’s more tragic for the people he kills than anything.

Alright, third lore. Let’s see how they try to fix him this time.

OK, so, Warwick is no longer a mercenary, but rather a full-time alchemist. He’s the mentor of Singed, another alchemy-themed character, and he worked with Noxus during their campaign on Ionia. Once again, Soraka cursed him into becoming a werewolf as punishment for his crimes, but… Again, he kind of doesn’t seem to care because it ultimately works in his benefit.

Alright, by this point, a pattern is starting to become apparent. Warwick’s transformation into a werewolf is supposed to be tragic; a literal case of him losing his humanity in pursuit of power. In each of his respective bios, though, the transformation never seems to negatively impact Warwick. Turning into a wolf-man pretty-much just makes him stronger and more dangerous than he ever was, and Warwick doesn’t seem to have any desire to turn back; his final bio even says he’s THANKFUL for the transformation.

The werewolf trope is one of the oldest we have in modern storytelling, dating all the way back to Greek myth. It’s a simple concept, really: you are forced to transform into an unholy union of human and dog, driven by primitive instincts to murder and eat other people. It’s really not hard to see how such a transformation can affect someone, ruining their psychological state and causing them to viewed as nothing less than a monster in the eyes of other humans. The typical response to becoming a werewolf is to seek of a cure of some kind; a means to end the curse.

It’s such a simple concept, one of the oldest cliches in the book, and yet they somehow botched it on four separate occasions by making it work completely to Warwick’s benefit. He doesn’t want or need a cure, so… What does he want or need? Simple: he just wants to hunt and kill stuff. While Warwick’s not necessarily the first nor the last character in the game who causes bloodshed merely for the sake of it, there’s no grander purpose behind it. He doesn’t do it for revenge or hatred or even simply to revel in it; he’s just an animal with no clear goals or motivations. It’s not hard to see why Riot kept trying to retcon him, though it’s also kind of hilarious how they kept making the same mistake.

All that being said, there’s another pattern that starts cropping up in Warwick’s lore here: they started trying to connect him more with other Champions over time. First it was Soraka, then Singed. I believe this was done because, since Warwick lacks a clear character arc of his own, Riot had probably been hoping to use him in others’ stories more than his own. By making Soraka a clear-cut enemy he needs to hunt down and making Warwick a teacher/colleague of Singed, it offers more organic opportunities for interactions with fellow Champions. Unfortunately, this story no longer works for a few reasons, not the least of which was the retcon to Soraka and Celestial beings as a whole in the League universe.

Alright, now that we have all of Warwick’s prior backstories out of the way, let’s take a look at his current lore and see, at last, what the Wrath of Zaun brings to the table that the other bios didn’t.

Alright, so here we have the story of a man turned into a monster forcefully through experimentation. Gone is any mention or connection to Soraka, and now Singed is an antagonistic character rather than an ally. I think, conceptually, these changes work, though I still have a number of issues with how this particular version of the story is written.

For one thing, we know basically nothing about Warwick’s actual backstory. He was apparently a criminal seeking redemption for his past deeds, only to SOMEHOW find himself captured by Singed. It feels like Riot didn’t really know what to do with his origin story as a human, so they left it as vague as possible and tried to use the fact that even Warwick doesn’t know his own past to cover that up. While the experiments performed on him are certainly horrendous, it’s harder to sympathize with a character when we don’t actually know. Where did he come from? What did he do as a gangster? Who was the little girl? His daughter? A past victim? The story is meant to evoke pity, but it’s difficult to feel anything but confusion when new questions are raised with nearly every other paragraph.

To that end, let’s talk about the experiment itself. Singed wants to “awaken the beast hidden inside a good man.” What does this mean? It’s… Not clear. It almost sounds like a sort of Joker mentality, trying to prove that anyone can turn evil after just one bad day, except “one bad day” is literal weeks if not months of actually physically trying to turn Warwick into a monster using some unexplained chemicals and augmentations. What was Singed’s actual end-goal here? What did he hope to create? Once again, we don’t really know. He wants to try to transmute a human, but to what end? How did he figure out this method? Can you only transmute “good people?” How does that work?

To me, Warwick’s new bio is frustrating because it feels like they tried to cling onto the whole “man transforms into a werewolf thing” while also attempting to justify the new cyborg elements implemented into his design. This, to me, was the beginning of a larger issue in League’s lore that I like to call: “The Vastaya Problem.”

For those unaware, the Vastaya are basically a race of animal people on Runeterra, like the Faunus in RWBY or the Beastmen from BNA. The Vastaya as a concept were introduced with the addition of Rakan and Xayah, and this new race of animal people was actually a rather ingenious way of retconning multiple characters all at once. See, as mentioned before, Champions back in the day were made to just be stereotypical fantasy races to throw into the game; Nami was the mermaid, Trundle was the troll, Alistar was the minotaur, etc. This, of course, led to a lot of different races and creatures that had basically no representation or explanation beyond the single Champion chosen to represent them, not unlike the Darkin from our previous entry.

For example: Ahri is your kitsune. She was a nine-tailed fox that wanted to be human for some reason, and she effectively became human by just… Wishing for it really hard when she found the body of a dying mage. Rengar was a tiger cub taken in and raised by a hunter, who over time gained a human-like anatomy because… That’s how that works, right? And then there’s Wukong, literally just Wukong from Journey to the West. Born from a magic rock, goes on a quest to become the strongest warrior, you get the idea.

The whole point of the Vastaya was to retcon these animal people into a single, explainable race… Well, maybe not “race” as Riot calls them more of a Genotype with individual types of vastaya being their own race, but you get the idea. Wukong is a monkey Vastaya, Ahri is a fox Vastaya, Rengar is a tiger Vastaya, and so-on. It seemed like this was going to be how they explained all the animal people in the lore (except the Ascended because they were already made into their own thing back in 2015) going forward. The term “Vastaya” was literally made to be a free retcon for the animal-human hybrid champs, and then they just… Kinda… Stopped using it?

Like, take the minotaurs. They’re bull-people. That means they’re Vastaya, right? Well… No. Apparently minotaurs are just their own thing entirely. What about the Ursine, a race of polar bear people in the Freljord? Well, no, see we’re actually turning Volibear into an elemental thunder deity and the Ursine is now just a name for people who follow him. Well… What about Neeko? She’s a chameleon girl Riot added into the game, and she appears to be Vastayan. Is she? Well… Kind of. She’s actually an Oovi-kat, which is like an ancestor race to the Vastaya?

You probably see where I’m going with this. Riot literally gave themselves an out for all the animal people they were going to have to retcon in the new lore, and then just stopped using it. Warwick’s human origins don’t really even factor into his story all that much, so could they not have just made him a wolf Vastayan that Singed captured and experimented on instead? Apparently not, because Riot wanted to keep his human-to-wolfman transformation even in his new lore.

Alright then. If we absolutely MUST keep Warwick’s origins as a human, then I think I can compromise. Without any further ado, and after several rewrites, I present to all: my proposal for how Warwick’s new lore SHOULD have been handled in his newest retcon. Enjoy.

For many, the Noxian invasion of Ionia was a living nightmare. For Warwick, it was an awakening.

Once an Ionian mercenary, Warwick sold his skills to whoever could afford them.  Warwick harbored a talent for hunting down elusive prey, be they human, vastaya, yordle, or even spirits. What fates befell his marks, Warwick neither knew nor cared. It wasn’t long until Warwick himself became a wanted man by Ionia’s elders, but not even the Kinkou Order was able to keep track of his movements for long. Soon, those who knew of Warwick and his reputation began referring to him by another name: The Prowling Wolf.

When the empire of Noxus came to Ionia, Warwick saw it as an opportunity. He offered his skills to both Noxian and Ionian forces alike, profiting from both sides of the war while ensuring his clients remained none-the-wiser. To the Prowling Wolf, this conflict was nothing but a chance to strike it rich. That perspective quickly changed when Warwick bore witness to the horrors of Noxian chemical weapons.

It was meant to be a simple mission: capture a Noxian messenger and bring him to a small resistance force near the coast. The messenger had been carrying information on a new weapon the invaders had brought from overseas, which Warwick was certain Noxian forces would pay well to have returned to them. With the transaction complete, Warwick left the seaside village behind him. An hour later, he heard the screams of the dying carried on the wind.

Warwick watched in horror as the entire village was bombarded by toxic fumes, granting a slow, painful death to everyone within. This, he realized, must be the new Noxian weapon. As Warwick watched the chaos from a distant hillside, he soon spotted the source of the bombardment: a large metal ship drifting in the distant sea. Horrified by this act of extreme cruelty, Warwick realized that he alone now knew the secrets of this Noxian weapon, and vowed to help his countrymen fight against it.

Warwick allied himself with the growing resistance forces that had banded together under Xan Irelia, putting his talents and knowledge of Noxian movements to use as a spy and saboteur. With his aid, the resistance learned that the deadly chemical weapons were produced by a single man: a foreign alchemist called Singed. Determined to put an end to the madman’s production, Warwick led a group to sneak aboard Singed’s ship, aptly named the Deathmaker, and either capture or kill the alchemist.

Things did not go as planned.

Warwick and his allies were skilled, but they had never encountered anything quite like the Chemtech defenses aboard the Deathmaker. One-by-one, Warwick watched his allies fall to mechanical abominations equipped with spinning blades and hoses that spouted searing acid. Soon, Warwick was alone, trapped aboard the mad chemist’s vessel with no hope of escape. As the horrid machines closed in, Warwick felt something awaken within him: a latent power that lay dormant within his bloodline for years.

Miraculously, Warwick’s wounds began to close themselves. A strange bloodlust filled the Prowling Wolf as he fought with inhuman strength and speed, tearing through the Zaunite defenses in pursuit of their twisted maker. He hunted Singed through the metal corridors of the chemist’s own ship, finally cornering his prey in the engine room. Just as Warwick prepared to rend the chemist to shreds, however, a strange feeling of nausea washed over him. Too late, he noticed the canister on Singed’s back, which had been spouting toxic fumes wherever the chemist ran. Warwick had fallen right into Singed’s trap, and the last thing he saw was his adversary’s gaunt frame looming over him, a wicked smile plastered on his skeletal face.

When next Warwick awoke, he found himself strapped to a cold table in a strange room. He recalled only hazy memories of being trapped in a cage and administered strange drugs. Before he could make sense of his surroundings, Warwick saw Singed staring at him from a glass window on the other side of the room. Above him, strange instruments like those that had killed his comrades whirred to life. Warwick demanded to know was happening, yet Singed only replied with a chilling promise: that he would transmute Warwick into the beast within.

For weeks, Warwick’s life became nothing but agony. The Ionian found himself pumped full of strange chemicals as his limbs were replaced with grotesque prosthetics. Warwick begged and pleaded for death, yet Singed only watched on with intrigue as his captive’s body twisted and convulsed. As suspected, Warwick held latent Vastayan genes within him, and Singed was prepared to do whatever he must to awaken them. He was convinced that pain would be the catalyst needed to set the beast free, but in the end, Warwick’s heart gave out before the transformation was complete.

Disappointed, Singed stored Warwick’s body within the depths of his laboratory, convinced the experiment had ended in failure. It was only on the brink of death, however, that Warwick’s latent ancestry finally began to surface, spurred on by the strange chemicals that now replaced his blood. The Ionian’s body twisted and grew, taking on the likeness of his former namesake. In a fit of rage, Warwick burst from his containment and tore apart the lab, escaping into the streets of Zaun below.

Now, Warwick prowls undercity, driven by feral instincts and scattered memories of who he once was. The only thing Warwick recalls clearly is his desire to track down the man who had transformed him, and the Prowling Wolf always finds his prey…

I will be honest here: it’s not my best work. I’ve gone through a couple drafts by this point, but I mainly wanted to show off the general ideas I had for Warwick’s backstory. Is it perfect? No, far from it, but I think it at least illustrates the general themes and ideas that both I and Riot wanted to execute on with Warwick’s new lore.

Firstly, I wanted to expand on Warwick’s whole “criminal-seeking-redemption” thing. He starts as a mercenary willing to play both sides a war to strike it rich, only to form a proper allegiance to Ionian after witnessing the extremes that Noxus will go to for the sake of victory. Of course, I imagine that the turn-around wouldn’t be immediate; it’s more-so the realization that Noxus is willing to kill innocent bystanders and even their own for the sake of victory that makes him realize that they’re just dangerous to fight FOR than against. After three years of witnessing the horrors of these chemical weapons, Warwick slowly but surely becomes more and more devoted to the cause, willing to risk his life to bring down the madman responsible for them.

Now, I concede the that sudden awakening of dormant Vastayan genes might seem like a bit of a cop-out, but here me out. We already have a precedent for mixed human-Vastaya offspring. That’s Sett’s whole deal, after-all. I’d like to think that Warwick himself is a descendant from one such human-Vastayan couple, as I HIGHLY doubt Sett’s parents were the first to intermingle over literal centuries. I mean, Vastaya themselves are said to have been made from humans mingling with shapeshifters, so I don’t think it’s THAT big of a stretch.

I also wanted to elaborate on how and why Singed captured Warwick in the first place. Singed’s entire gameplay gimmick is running away while enemies chase him through a poison trail he leaves behind, and Warwick’s all about pursuing you like a hungry wolf chasing prey. I honestly would have liked to stretch out the chase sequence a bit more, but the bio was getting long-enough as-is and I feel it does a decent job incorporating their respective gameplay styles into the story itself.

Also, I’d like that the dormant Vastayan genes make Singed’s motivation for capturing Warwick infinitely more feasible than just wanting to “awaken the beast inside every good man,” whatever that means. Now, you might be asking how Singed even knows about the Vastaya in the first place, since there aren’t any living in Zaun or Piltover that we know of. Well, the man was aboard a ship just off the coast of Ionia for nearly three years; I’d imagine at some point he might catch wind of things happening on the mainland, which is how he learns of these strange animal people.

Alas, Singed isn’t permitted to leave the ship, as the Noxians need him to keep making bombs and don’t wanna risk Singed getting captured or killed by sending him ashore. Imagine the Mad Chemist’s surprise, then, when a man comes aboard his ship and starts tearing apart his defenses like a feral beast moments before being torn apart himself. From there, it’s just a matter of capturing this man and keeping him contained until Warwick can be brought back to a proper lab in Zaun and experimented on.

The last chance I wanted to make was Warwick just being discarded into the street when the experiment seems to fail. I mean, Singed equipped Warwick with all this undoubtedly very expensive Chemtech, only to literally dump it all in a gutter when the experiment doesn’t work? I mean, I’m no scientist, but I at least know that you’d probably wanna hold onto the failed samples to see what went wrong. Plus, Warwick breaking out makes the story of Singed coming back to find his lab in ruins a lot more plausible, rather than Warwick coming back, wrecking the lab, and then just… Leaving again when he finds out that Singed has left, at least to me.

Warwick is a very simple character with a very complex history. Not many Champions can claim to have undergone so many retcons over the years, and yet Riot has never found a way to give him a backstory that actually works. You can give the first one a bit of a pass, since everything from that era was kind of sloppy, but the 2015 reboot was Riot’s chance to finally give Warwick something more cohesive, and just… Messed it up again. I’m not saying you HAVE to make him a Vastayan, but so much of his current lore raises so many questions that it doesn’t even try to answer.

It’s honestly very similar to the issues I have with Thresh’s rework: the story is more concerned about rushing to tell us how Warwick became what it is that it doesn’t seem concerned with fleshing out who or what he was before the transformation. In the end, it ultimately feels like the bio was written to explain why Warwick went from being a normal werewolf to CYBORG werewolf, and no other thought was put into it aside from that.

[asfeedin]

A Look at ‘The Decisive Moment’ by Henri Cartier-Bresson

A bible for photographers. That is how Robert Capa described The Decisive Moment by Henri Cartier-Bresson. After almost 70 years it was first published, this book has still a lot to say to photographers and especially to street and documentary photographers.

The book said to be an essential one for any photography collection. But is it? I am going to give you this brief overview of this legendary book.

Henri Cartier-Bresson is said to be a founder of modern photojournalism. I have actually talked about his life and photography in one of my very first videos. He actually came up with this idea of the “decisive moment.” I wouldn’t say he invented it but he definitely gave it a name and introduced it to a wider audience.

Here’s what Cartier-Bresson told the Washington Post in 1957:

Photography is not like painting. There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera. That is the moment the photographer is creative, oop! The Moment! Once you miss it, it is gone forever.

The book was published in 1952 originally titled Images à la Sauvette (“images on the run”) in the French, published in English with a new title, The Decisive Moment. The words were actually taken from a quote by the 17th century Cardinal de Retz, who said, “There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment.”

You can find the first edition on eBay for $1,000 and more depending on the condition. It was printed in 10,000 copies; 3,000 of the French edition and 7,000 of the American edition. The original price was actually $12.50 in North America.

The new print run of the book has a hardback and extra hard case to house the book itself and a pamphlet that I will talk about later.

The new 2015 edition of The Decisive Moment. Photo courtesy Amazon.

The artwork on the case and on the book itself is an artwork by Henri Matisse — it’s not a photograph but a signature cut-out of Matisse.

In the top right, we can see the sun that shines over the Blue Mountains. In the middle is a bird holding a branch. Then there are a few green and black vegetal forms and a stone at the bottom. On the back cover, we can see color sparkles of green and blue. The spirals are supposed to evoke the pace of time.

What is interesting about this cover is that when you look closely, the name Cartier-Bresson is actually missing the hyphen. I don’t actually know why that is. Maybe Matisse forgot to draw it there and then they just didn’t want to tell him to fix his artwork. The pamphlet suggests that the missing hyphen could be deliberate, as if Matisse wanted to express Cartier-Bresson’s duality and his shifting temperament.

The book is pretty big. Even without the case, it is the biggest book I own. It is 37x27cm so the ratio works for photographs of 24×36 photographic film Cartier-Bresson used. Each page can fit one horizontal photograph or two vertical ones. The pages are stitched in a way that allows proper flat opening. It has 160 pages with 126 photographs and weighs over 5.5lbs/2.5kg.

The pamphlet is a very nice behind-the-scenes book composed of quotes by Henri Cartier-Bresson and some other information about how the book was made. It tells the story of Cartier — Bresson working on the book, the sequencing, work with the publisher, the story of the cover, and so on.

The publisher insisted that the images should be matched with a text in the book. The idea was to provide technical and “how-to” information, but it was something Cartier-Bresson wasn’t fond of too much.

The book starts with an introduction by Henri Cartier-Bresson followed by photographs split into two sections, chronologically and geographically. The first one contains photographs taken in the West from the years 1932 to 1947. The second contains photographs taken in the East from 1947 to 1952. Since the introduction wasn’t technical enough, there is also a technical text by Richard L. Simon at the end of the book, which was only included in the American version.

We can also consider the two sections to be the phases of Cartier-Bresson’s carrier. During his career, Cartier-Bresson oscillated between art and photojournalism. It is obvious from his photographs before he joined Magnum and after that. When selecting the photographs, Cartier-Bresson clearly favored the reportage images he made as a member of Magnum Photos as some of his well-known images like Hyeres, France, 1932 (AKA The Cyclist) from the early 30s are missing.

As The Decisive Moment was published 5 years after he joined Magnum, he left out a lot of his surrealism inspired images and used more of his photojournalism work, especially in the second section which displays only Magnum images. Those photos also have much longer captions as they were mostly shot for press.

The book is evidence of Cartier-Bresson’s shift from art to photojournalism during that time. He would later switch back when he focused on exhibitions and wanted to be perceived more as an artist rather than a photojournalist.

All photographs are in black and white, as Cartier-Bresson didn’t like to shoot colors. He saw color as technically inferior (due to the slow speeds of color films) as well as aesthetically limited.

At the time the book was published, it was immediately clear the book was unique, not only in terms of size but also quality. Even though it was accepted very well by critics, the first sales were not so good: that was the reason there was never the second print (prior to 2015).

“The Decisive Moment” wasn’t actually the only title Cartier-Bresson considered. One of the favorite possible titles was “À pas de loup” (“Tiptoeing”), which expressed the way in which Cartier-Bresson approached those whom he photographed. “The subject must be approached tiptoeing,” he once said.

The second possible title was “Images à la Sauvette” (roughly translated as “images on the run”), which ended up being the name of the French edition, related to small street vendors ready to flee when being asked for their license. It also expressed his concept of photography.

My favorite picture from the book is one from Kashmir showing Muslim women on the slopes of Hari Parbal Hill in Srinagar praying toward the sun rising behind the Himalayas.

The #ICPMuseum is the first venue in the United States to present “Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Decisive Moment.” The exhibition shares the behind-the-scenes story and offers a rare chance to see first edition printing. https://t.co/blKiNC0Wgo

Srinagar, India, 1948 pic.twitter.com/UJY54xTG3P

— ICP (@ICPhotog) July 9, 2018

As you see when you look at Henri Cartier-Bresson’s photographs, he adapted many styles. When I first saw this photograph, I just thought how timeless it looked. It could easily be taken thousands of years ago if cameras had existed then. Cartier-Bresson shot some very important events but also some casual photos.

I think The Decisive Moment an amazing book even though it is expensive. But the valuable information it provides and the forms makes you really feel like you are holding a piece of history. It would be a great gift for any photographer but especially for someone shooting a street or documentary style.

About the author: Martin Kaninsky is a photographer, reviewer, and YouTuber based in Prague, Czech Republic. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. Kaninsky runs the channel All About Street Photography. You can find more of his work on his website, Instagram, and YouTube channel.

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Tags: CartierBresson, Decisive, Henri, MOMENT

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[amoralto]

I've no doubt Mal had a lot of good qualities, but his tendency to try and take credit retroactively for so many Beatles ideas has to be taken with a big grain of salt. According to Doug Sulpy, it was John was started goofing around and singing "Brother Malcolm" and other goofy lyrics while going over the song in session the day before the excerpt you posted. Paul was just reference John's joke from the day before. (pt1)

I think Mal’s claim is particularly annoying because this is one of the few songs that holds such personal meaning for Paul due to its inspiration being his mother, and Mal essentially turns it into a joke. On the one hand, you have Mal’s story which conveniently has zero witnesses and nothing else to back it up. On the other hand, you have Paul’s consistent story of the song’s creation going back to 1968, the sessions tapes where he first presents the song to the band (p2)            

with the “mother Mary” lyric intact, and 50 years of Paul describing the same origin of the song and treating it as something deep and meaningful to him (including getting choked up at the lines referencing Mary and looking heavenward when seeing it performed at the Kennedy Center Honors). (p3)

See, I may sound naive or even partial to a certain extent, but I’ve never regarded Mal as self-serving or ill in intent when he relates this anecdote, or any other. Instead of an expression of conceit where he scrabbles for credit and influence, I read it as an ultimately innocent and ultimately affectionate account of a little moment he and Paul had one rainy night. (Bear in mind that in his very last interview, he unequivocally states that out of all the Beatles he was/is closest to Paul; and this is even after spending the majority of the Lost Weekend period with John or Ringo.) I don’t believe relating it as such was ever intended to cheapen or in any undermine the greater truth (which no one is in doubt of) that the song, at its heart, was evoking Mary’s spirit and memory. I don’t believe he would have presumed to have authority to speak of Mary or of Paul’s regard for Mary, anyway, and he didn’t. 

Mal, from the scant interviews he’d done in his brief lifetime, always came across as entirely too devoted and simple-minded to even consider making up stories exaggerating his own importance out of whole cloth for his sole personal gain. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have an ego, or that he didn’t feel slighted during the end days of the Beatles (he never made more than a menial salary,  and especially at that stormy contentious time felt more like an employee than a valued friend), but as far as the claims go he was never grandiose or keen about them. The relatively docile claims he made about the songs he’d written with Paul were probably meant (and were) along the lines of Ken Mansfield chipping in on ‘Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da’, or Pete Shotton providing an idea for ‘Eleanor Rigby’. Remember John recalling his hurt and jealousy over Paul’s tendency to throw songs out to anyone who was around for them to contribute to it? Mal was around Paul more often than most - he stayed with Paul in Cavendish at one point, went on holidays and overseas trips with Paul, even saw to Paul’s well-being after his first acid trip with John. Which was apparently not lost on John either; far be it for me to use 1971!John as a corroborative source, but he backs up the idea that Paul had, for example, set up the premise for the Magical Mystery Tour film with Mal (and confesses that he was “choked” by it, i.e. that Paul didn’t come to him, John, first.)

Anyway, back to ‘Let It Be’: Let’s give Mal the benefit of the doubt and assume he’s being honest. Mal noting that their exchange took place after a session in the middle of the night dates it rather certainly to the White Album sessions, when their day-to-day was erratically scheduled and would often start in the early evening and end well into the next morning, which aligns well with Paul’s accounts. Paul was suffocating in a veritable miasma of riotous emotion and reckless deed in 1968, between dealing with Yoko’s anvilicious presence and John’s maneuvering and not at all bothering to cover up with his affairs anymore from Jane Asher and sending chillingly passive-aggressive postcards to his associates and going all in on the drugs and alcohol and all the rest of it, and it’s altogether plausible to me that besides the dream(s) he would have of Mary’s reassurance and solace, he would have at least once had a similar dream of Mal, or John, whomever else his dreamscape had conjured up to tell him to hang in there. It is also altogether plausible to me that Paul would have withheld any talk of dreaming about Mary for it being entirely too personal, but told Mal about once dreaming about him - not as a faintly patronising gesture as one would feed scraps to a stray dog, but as a quiet and not too portentous communication of companionship after a long night.

As for Doug Sulpy’s interpretation of things, all he says in his book is that the group seems to have had little exposure to ‘Let It Be’ prior to the Get Back sessions, which is just inference on his part and is in no way explicitly stated in the session itself. (By the way, this occurs a couple of weeks before  the video I posted, on January 8th, so not a day before.) It’s entirely possible the band or any one of them had heard a sliver of ‘Let It Be’ before this, perhaps with both references to Mary and Mal, perhaps with the ‘Brother Malcolm’ lyrics as an offshoot or aside. 

Having heard the session recording in question, John doesn’t goof around or provide any of his absurd commentary for ‘Let It Be’ either. After Paul plays the song, and after another minute of absent guitar noodling, what he says is, “Change it to brother Fr– Malcolm and then we’ll do it. [inaudible] —would be great, brother Malcolm.” Which isn’t conclusive of anything, really - Sulpy’s assumption that this was the first time “Brother Malcolm” was ever brought up at any time of the Beatles’ tenure and that it was John who came up with it is a technically valid one, but so is the notion that John had perhaps heard an early sliver of the song in 1968 with a stray “Brother Malcolm” line and it had stayed at the back of his mind. It could also be entirely independent and coincidental, where Paul did have an offshoot ‘Brother Malcolm’ reference written back in 1968 and John just happened to come up with the same offshoot suggestion in 1969.

… I’m not sure how to end off, but I suppose at the end of the day, your guess as is good as mine. I just prefer to think better of Mal; he was far from being in possession of all the facts, but from his bijou and very particular frame of reference I like to believe he was being unadulterated and sincere. Whatever it is, Mal may not come up much in interviews (which isn’t any real indication of his importance to Paul; see also “there’s a vacuum where he used to be” Robert Fraser), but one only has to listen to, say, the commentary for Magical Mystery Tour to appreciate how fond Paul is of him.

Edit: In chatting with @thecutteralicia, she brought up another excellent possibility that for some reason hadn’t occurred to me, to my shame: the sheer fallibility of memory. The possibility of conflation and misremembering. I hope she doesn’t mind if borrow her words, which are better than what I could conceive:

Well, I think there’s also a middle ground, that Mal was not malicious but Mal was honestly confused or misremembering, i.e. he heard John joking when covering the song on January 8 (since Mal was there at those sessions) and it turned into a memory of, “oh, Paul did that!” then “He played it that way and therefore wrote the song for me!” Or even that Paul told him about the song and jokingly said something like, “And I said Brother Malcolm because you’re always there for us,” or something, and it turned into something else n his mind. (I’ve never gotten the sense that Mal had a good sense of knowing when the Fabs were kidding or taking the piss). Or Mal simply heard Paul in that session repeating John’s joke,maybe he didn’t hear John’s original joke, and misremembered it as “Paul and I were alone and Paul told me this song was written for me!”

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/emotional-home-run-supernatural-1211-regarding-dean/

An Emotional Home Run for 'Supernatural' 1211 Regarding Dean

This week’s Supernatural made me emotional before we even knew what was happening, simply because I knew that this was it – the Dean loses his memory episode. The tiny preview clip shook me weeks ago, and then I asked Jensen about it at a recent con. Would it break my heart? He said that it at first would make me laugh, but then… His silence spoke volumes. He knows how much I adore the fictional character he plays, and I’m quite certain he knew the scene with Dean in the mirror was indeed going to destroy me. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s just say I was looking for signs of the impending amnesia even before they came, which made the opening ten minutes full of trepidation. That doesn’t mean I didn’t also laugh. A LOT. One of the reasons I’m certain that Supernatural is the best show ever is its brilliance in combining humor and angst in a single episode – sometimes in a single minute! This episode accomplished that repeatedly. Dean chases the witch, gets hexed by the witch, kills the witch, wakes up with a bunny. (Why did he wake up with a bunny? Who knows. Does writer Meredith Glynn love bunnies? Was somebody’s pet bunny on the soundstage that day and wanted to get in on the action? Does Jensen Ackles have a secret fondness for rabbits? No clue. I assume it refers to Dean’s rabbit comment in the previews. At any rate, it was adorable.) Ackles got ample room to exercise his comedy elbows…. I mean skills….in this episode. The face he made when the woman walking with her baby in the stroller looks aghast at him and gives him a dollar made me giggle even as I was dreading what was going to happen. Was that Kevin Park’s beautiful dog Kuma making a cameo appearance with the dog walking guy? Padalecki also got to show off his considerable comedy skills as Sam initially believes that Dean was on a bender and thus can be both bemused and annoyed at his lapses. Dean eats waffles, gets slapped by a woman he doesn’t remember, almost pukes over a murder victim with bags of bloody money pulled from his stomach…just another day for the Winchesters. And then things get not at all funny. Dean can’t remember which key to use to start the Impala. Oh god. This is the writing of someone who understands exactly what makes Dean DEAN and also knows how to rip my heart out. I half expected Robbie Thompson to peek out from behind an office door. (And yes, this is my highest compliment). To destroy me further, he then puts the car into reverse and crashes her into a newspaper stand. The icing on the cake? Sam: Dean! Dean: Who’s Dean? OMG. Let me pay Meredith Glynn another compliment. Many of the best stories I’ve ever heard about the Winchesters haven’t been on the show – they’ve been in fanfiction. I told Jensen the day I asked him about this episode that the amnesia Dean or amnesia Sam trope is one of my favorite flavors, but that it also kills me every time. That’s what I was hoping for from this episode – that it would live up to the amazing stories I’ve read that tackled this trope. And guess what? That’s what I got. Dean is in denial at first, insisting he’s fine – because who wouldn’t do that? Who wants to believe something as truly horrifying as the thought of losing your mind? Losing yourself. I’ve worked with people struggling with memory loss, and it’s profoundly terrifying. Lose your memory completely, and you’ve literally lost yourself, your identity, your ability to love or be loved. I can think of few things more terrifying. This episode, and Ackles and Padalecki’s brilliant acting played on that terror perfectly. Dean forgets the word for lamp, which in itself could be funny….almost. Sam puts a post-it note on it to remind him. Soon the room is covered in them. Sam alternates between being frustrated with his brother and starting to feel desperate and helpless, which Padalecki evoked perfectly. Finally, Sam calls Rowena. Rowena: Is he all smooth from the neck down, like a candle… Sam: I don’t know! And I’m not checking. Me: Darn. It’s getting less and less funny, as Sam turns around to find that Dean has disappeared. He just went out for ice, but even that simple thing is no longer simple – Sam is frantic, searching and calling out ‘Dean!’ until he finally finds him, trying to get into the wrong room. I think that was the point that the parallels to real life memory loss started to hit me. If you’ve ever witnessed someone going through something like that, it’s heartbreaking – and terrifying. And this episode got it so very right. They retrace Dean’s steps from the night before hoping to kill the witch and break the spell. With dizzying speed, the show veers back and forth from humorous (Dean, looking heartbreakingly innocent and about five years old, exclaiming “That’s awesome” when Sam tells him that witches and vampires and monsters are real and that they kill them), to heartbreaking, as Dean loses memories again and again. They eventually find the woman who slapped Dean in the bar and get a description of what he was up to and can’t remember the night before, which involves four shots of tequila and Dean riding Larry the mechanical bull. Dean: (hopefully) Was I good? Waitress: You were amazing. Sam: (eyeroll) The waitress apologizes for possibly taking advantage of a roofied Dean, which was a nice inclusion. Then the brothers review the video camera tapes from the night before and see Dean chase the bad guy out the back door. Dean: (attempting to read his own lips): No salsa real mittens… Sam: (exasperated) You can’t read lips. It’s funny, but it’s so not! Sam and Dean continue to retrace Dean’s steps into the woods, while Sam tells Dean who they are and what they do. That in itself was heartbreaking, Sam sounding like the big brother for a change. Dean, in his place of innocence, listens and then exclaims “Best job ever!” Sam doesn’t agree, citing all the grim realities. Dean: I don’t know, we kinda sound like heroes. Me: Damn right. Meanwhile, the dead witch’s siblings find his body and Rowena appears at the motel to help. Or to get her hands on the powerful spell book that the witch family have in their possession. Or maybe a little of both, if you love Rowena like I do. Dean: Your hair’s so bouncy! Rowena to Sam: Do we have to fix him? Sam entices Dean to sit down on the bed (actually he just grabs him by the shoulders and puts him there) with a promise of Cinemax. Dean’s selective memory interprets that as Skinemax, which he’s apparently quite comfortable with while Sam and Rowena are there too. It turns out to be a cartoon, but Dean has already forgotten what he was promised, so he smiles with pure joy and OMG I don’t know whether to laugh or start crying. Supernatural is often an emotional roller coaster, which I both love and hate, but this episode really delivered on that wild ride. Rowena makes it clear – to Sam and to us  – that Dean won’t just lose his memory of his past. He’ll lose everything. He’ll forget who he is, how to do everything – even how to swallow. Dean Winchester will die. From the bed, Dean: Sucks for that guy. Oh god. My heart. Sam’s heart is clearly breaking too. Sam: I’ve watched my brother die. But watching him become…not him. This might actually be worse. Seeing the person you love most in the world slipping away, unable to do anything to stop it? I’ll say. This episode hit hard for anyone who has had to lose a loved one little by little, as many of us have. Almost too hard at some points. Sam takes Dean into the bathroom for some privacy and tells him their life story. Their shared history. Who Dean is, what he’s done. Dean: I can feel it, slipping out of my head. Sam: We’ll figure it out, okay? We will. How many times has Dean said that to Sam? *clutches chest* Then Sam leaves to go out and try to save his brother’s life. And that? Is what I live for. Dean faces himself in the mirror after Sam leaves, in the scene teased in that preview that made me so full of fear. “My name is Dean Winchester. My brother is Sam. My mother is Mary Winchester. My best friend is Cas.” He repeats it, each time more haltingly, each time struggling more to hang onto the awareness. And as we watch, we can see in heartbreaking detail that Dean is losing the battle. I’ve been blown away by Jensen’s acting many times during the course of twelve years of Supernatural, but this was one of those scenes that blew me away all over again. No wonder he wouldn’t reassure me that it wouldn’t kill me. It did. According to Ruth Connell, in one take we even got the One.Perfect.Tear ™ Rowena is left to babysit Dean, which she doesn’t seem to mind at all. Rowena never has a confidante who she can tell the truth to; she’s always too careful, too busy manipulating other people and trying to protect herself to just be real with anyone. That takes a toll after hundreds of years, I’m sure, so having someone who won’t remember it to confide in is a rare opportunity for Rowena. She tells him a story of the witch family who rejected her, back when she was lonely and desperate and – as she would put it – pathetic. Another glimpse of who Rowena is and how she got to be that way, which only makes me appreciate the character more. There’s a vulnerability to her that Connell has shown us glimpses of from the start, and that makes her so much more interesting. Oh and apparently Rowena has her own history with the British Men of Letters. Hmm. Sam, meanwhile, is being a big damn hero. When Rowena warns him that the witches would sooner use his skin as an outfit, he cocks his gun and replies, “They can try.” Damn. Is it hot in here? He breaks into the witches’ house but unfortunately gets taken down. And tied up. It’s like old school Supernatural! When the witches incapacitate him and Sam starts screaming, Dean and Rowena are on the other end of the phone. And Dean, who at that point does not even remember his own name, hears his brother scream in pain and yells into the phone: SAMMMM! That was it. If I’d been standing, I would have collapsed. Dean has forgotten everything, even who he is, even his own name. Everything but that one word, that one person. Sam.  He yells it as Dean Winchester has done a billion times since Supernatural premiered, and it carries so much meaning that it nearly destroyed me. All the kudos, Meredith. All the kudos. Dean wakes up in the Impala, a post it note telling him his brother has been captured by a witch, and to STAY, while Rowena goes inside to try to save Sam. Dean still, on some level, being Dean, does not stay. He opens the trunk and is treated to Sam’s post it notes all over it, and at this point, I could not NOT laugh. On the trunk? OPEN ME. On the gun? THIS GUN. Next to it? WITCH KILLING BULLETS. On the grenade launcher? A big NO! Oh god, Show. I love you so. Dean bursts into the house just in time to save Rowena from the wicked witch, and then Sam and the other witch come downstairs. Dean, unfortunately, has no clue who to shoot. But Sam knows what to do. Sam: (pointing to himself) No no no, brother! (pointing to other guy) Witch! Boom! Dean shoots him (instinctively knowing to trust Sam’s voice, I wager) Rowena works her magic from the spell book, and Dean and Rowena descend the stairs a little while later. Sam: (still looking heartbreakingly anxious and so very hopeful): Is it done? Dean: (deadpan) Who’s this hippie? You can literally see Sam beginning to despair, in an amazing piece of acting by Jared. I started to tear up as I watched, just from the emotion on Sam’s face. And then Dean bursts into laughter, along with Rowena, proving to Sam that he does remember by recounting a silly childhood memory to break the tension. If I were Sam, I would have clocked him one (and then hugged the shit out of him), but I’m not Sam and Show has been really good to me tonight but not quite THAT good. So no brother hug, but we do get a classic Sam and Dean talk over the hood of the Impala moment, so I’m still pretty damn happy. Sam: Not funny. As they chat over the Impala, Sam says it was nice to see Dean looking happy, with all the burdens lifted from his shoulders that knowing what they’ve been through puts there. Dean disagrees. Dean: Was it nice to drop our baggage? Yeah, maybe. Hell, probably. But it wasn’t just the crap that got lost. I mean, it was everything. It was us, what we do, all of it. So if that’s what being happy looks like, I think I’ll pass. That conversation reminded me of the end of one of my all time favorite episodes, The French Mistake. Sure, they could have stayed there, where there were no monsters. But they wouldn’t have been Sam and Dean. Sam: We’re not even brothers here, man. And that pretty much says it all. So the Winchesters drive away. All this time, I’m wondering where the scene is of Dean riding Larry. Cue the music of ‘Broomstick Cowboy’ and there it is, a video montage of Dean looking happy and innocent and riding a mechanical bull. I didn’t know the song, so at first it struck me as purely happy, but then again, it’s a country song, and that means heartache can’t be far behind…. Sure enough, the ending is a twist. “Soon you’ll be a dreadful thing – my son, you’ll be a man.” Woah. Chew on that one for a while, fandom. A paean to Dean’s childhood, lost too soon to hunting and his father’s quest for revenge? Or just a reminder that Dean does still hang onto the ability to find some joy in life, and he refuses to regret the life he’s chosen? I was left an emotional mess after that roller coaster of an episode, but you know what? I didn’t mind one bit. That’s the sort of episode that made me fall in love with this Show and these characters. I felt profoundly grateful to be gifted with an episode and actors’ performances that can still make me feel so much. Thank you, Show.

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