#and start hammering away at my need for perfection and personally set standards i keep raising impossibly high

[joviantwelve]

Hello! I've been doing some long, hard thinking about my current commission offerings.

TL;DR:

I am doing away with my "standard" menu (headshot/halfbody/fullbody/etc.) in favor of more experimental work.

Effective June 1, my commissions will close completely, including the waitlist.

If you want any of my current offerings, please let me know before then. You will be added to a final waitlist queue, with payment only required once I get to you.

If you're currently on my waitlist, or are interested in what's next, please see the bottom of this post. Once the final orders are complete, I will focus on relaunching.

Below is a more elaborate explainer of why I'm doing this, and what I'll be doing next.

Introduction

Essentially, commissions have worn on me more and more as time goes on (which may be tangible if you ordered one recently and it took months). Part of me wondered if I was burned out on art in general, or it was just becoming less of a hobby for me, but that sentiment didn't feel quite right. After all, I could still get grabbed by a picture idea every now and again, which I would then crank out in one evening.

Was there some sort of difference between the pictures I could hammer out quickly vs. the ones I couldn't? Well, I wouldn't make a post about an investigation without already having a prime suspect.

My Art Style

When I first started drawing aliased, it was to quickly crank out panels for my forum adventures, mostly because I was using GIMP and didn't know anything about brush settings. I was way too frustrated with anti-aliased lines and how little I could make them look how I liked, so I retreated into something completely different.

It worked for a while, but as I became more comfortable with the style, I developed bad, perfectionistic habits (something I've already mentioned being A Problem I Have). I would tweak lineart at the pixel level, just because some stray bump or two bugged the hell out of me. I consider this one of the reasons my art output has slowed down.

Trying to embrace a "perfectly inconsistent," or "consistently imperfect" look as "my style" just created its own irony. For example, I will deliberately draw patterns and textures by hand, because it sticks out too strongly otherwise if I just paste it in. You can bump into this quickly enough by scrolling through my various character references.

I would love a world where all my OC references feel "current," but as it stands, I'm finding it increasingly hard to work on the remaining characters I want to draw while commissions are also an obligation. Taking a break from aliased character art commissions in order to work on aliased character art references is...just doing more of the same? It isn't a break.

In order to create breaks that actually feel like breaks, I have to compromise. ONE of these has to go home and change. My personal art gets priority here, and I still very much want my OCs to look consistent in their reference art, so...I need to find a more efficient way to draw for money that keeps my dysfunctional brain entertained.

The Long, Slow Realization

Back when I used GIMP, I tried the chalk brush on a whim and ended up quite liking it. The rough look helped me ignore what I would consider "imperfections" otherwise. However, perhaps because I had a comic or character references I wanted to keep consistent, I mostly considered it a fun oddity and nothing more.

More falling dominoes that would eventually lead to this post were my experimental style offerings that I introduced last year (at the time, I just offered it because I thought people may be interested in art that looked relatively unique), Art Fight (having to agonizingly obey "finished not perfect" because of the event deadline), and other gift art I did around this time (the reasoning being, it's gift art, they wouldn't mind if I used it to experiment).

Now that I use CSP and am no longer bound by webcomic obligations, I've been experimenting more with brush settings. Wouldn't you know it, most of my modern art of my original stories is no longer aliased. I go "off-model" deliberately, fuck around with layer settings and effects, and enjoy creating pieces just because I saw a cool tutorial, brush, or program I wanted to try. These are the types of pictures I mentioned I could crank out in one evening. Maybe they're not "formal," but I feel like they're the most "me."

With all this new experience swirling around in my head, I finally realized: Why am I not selling art I actually find fun to draw?!

The New Offerings

Currently, I'm leaning toward one style of illustration only, cheaper than the experimental style I offer presently, and "rougher" as a result. I want something equivalent to my '22 Art Fight output; something flashy, unique, and most importantly, quick to do.

The specifics are what I intend to figure out while I work through the queue. Here are some thoughts already rotating around in my brain:

Should I offer price "tiers" that roughly equate a level of "polish" (equivalent to sketch/flats/shading) or just go with one-price-fits-all?

Should I still offer sketches as a cheap alternative, or is that too confusing with my Ko-fi already sort of being that?

Should I offer specific pricing for bust/halfbody/fullbody/etc., or was that another symptom of why I had commission burnout before, and should be avoided?

Should I eschew all of the above and just offer one thing at one price (e.g. "give me $50 and I'll draw your OC" with no other choices for the buyer), or is that too intimidating?

And so on. The last option is currently what I'm vibing with the most, but it's definitely the most daring idea of the bunch, too. (& If you have any thoughts on this, let me know! I have so much more thinking to do.)

The Old Offerings (But New)

When I reopen, I would like to have as few options as possible. However, I have considered the possibility that an old offering would speak to me and I would add it to the new menu again. Here are some thoughts on those:

Icons have a pretty high chance of coming back.

I've always liked drawing faces and headshots the most. If I decide not to bring back headshot sketches, I could just roll it back into "icons" and instead offer colored sketchy headshots. This would be similar to the headshots I did for Art Fight, but...with colors.

Half/fullbodies would depend on how the new style goes.

This is elaborating on what I said in the previous section. While I'm sure my core audience (i.e., you) will be fine with a potentially spontaneous angle to my commissions, buyers I'm less familiar with might not be. I want to try "one price fits all," but if someone gives me shit about me drawing a bust when they were anticipating a fullbody, I might have to add options to specify this.

Regardless, the style would still be "experimental" either way--the composition is what's important about it (which is also why I feel like I can get away with one single price). If anything, I feel like forcing myself into the little boxes of "halfbody" and "fullbody" was partially what was stifling me. Like, when do I ever consciously decide to draw a halfbody of an OC? I don't. It feels very arbitrary, and I'd like to distance from it.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: Character design is NEVER coming back!

I deeply appreciate those that did want a brand spanking new OC from me, but I've never considered myself to have a terribly strong design sense. They just kind of ended up being extra nervewracking to do because I had to design a character on top of drawing a fullbody. I will still take the final requests for these, but this is your absolute last chance for a Jovian Twelve™ Brand Original the Character.

What if I'm Already on Your Waitlist?

You don't have to do anything! I will get to you when I get to you. After June 1, I will close the waitlist, and whoever is on there will be able to have one of my old commission types, as promised. You can change your request anytime as long as I'm not currently drawing it!

Reminder that my waitlist is NOT "first come, first served;" I order it based on the complexity of what's wanted. Because of my slow pace, I didn't want to keep someone waiting forever when all they want is three sketch headshots, you know? This is a heads up that if you change your request, your position in the list may change as well.

I have no ETA when the current waitlist will be completed, given that currently, fullbodies are taking me months. Sorry :( Just another reason I'm making this post!!

What if I Want the NEW Style?

I will accept up to five (5) waitlist slots that want to "test drive" the potential new commission style, placed after the "traditional" queue is all cleared out. (So, you'd be waiting extra long.) If you're interested in this, get in touch! I will offer them to you at a lower rate than what I'm expecting to charge for the real deal, as thanks.

If you're already on the waitlist for something else, and want to test the new style instead, let me know! Just be aware this would bring you to the bottom of the queue as described above (but it WOULD give me one less commission I'd have to go through to get to the new stuff, WINK).

In the chance I get no takers the entire time it takes me to go through the waitlist, then the first five commissions I do in the new style will just have to be "test slots" instead.

Final Word

I know these long posts might not be terribly interesting to anyone that's not me, but I find it therapeutic to scrawl my thoughts out in text. Additionally, I'm over 30 years old and conclusions are still the hardest part in writing an essay. I can feel my writing style begin to devolve the closer I am to the end...

Uhhh.

Thanks for reading, and understanding?! See you soon, maybe?! Get in touch if you want to discuss Commissions From Me?? 💃 Cool.

[keyofjetwolf]

Those of you who follow both Holligay and myself know that, every week, she’s making us sit down for several hours and work on a creative endeavour that is currently vexing us. For her, it’s drawing. For me, it’s writing. She’s been good and brave (ugh I threw up in my mouth) and posted what she’s done every week. I, not so much. I’m trying to improve my outlook as much as the work itself, though, so here, below the cut, is the stuff I’ve written in the past monthish. None of it is complete, but here it is anyway. Some ‘fic scraps, and the beginning of an original thing.

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

“Winston. Come in. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

“Uhhh … Yes. Yes, of course.” Winston pushed the door closed with a quiet control he in no way felt. Pharah rarely ordered him (requested, he firmly corrected, however tenuous his belief) to her office, and this sudden change in routine rattled him.

It didn’t help that he found Pharah absolutely terrifying.

“Do what, love?” Tracer had laughed last night over chinese takeout and the latest episode of Top Model UK. “Pharah? Fareeha Amari? Scary?!” She doubled over and rolled into his side, her entire body shaking as the sheer volume of her amusement refused to be confined to such a tiny container.

Mockery from anyone else might have shaken him, made him collapse inward like one of those skeleton toys that fell apart at the press of a button. But Tracer wasn’t anyone else, and where shame might have rooted, indignation bloomed. “She’s very intimidating!” he protested, and as Tracer’s hilarity rose another pitch, his entire face scrunched up in what could only, scientifically, be classified as “a pout”.

Several minutes later (several minutes longer than was actually necessary if one were to ask Winston), Tracer exhaled a long, shaky breath with a tired “Whooo!” and wiped her eyes. She’d been shoved to the opposite end of the couch and was being held there with Winston’s giant foot, his arms otherwise occupied at that precise moment with the very important job of being crossed. She threw half her body over a toe the size of her entire grinning face and beamed at Winston with equal parts delight and affection. “Ever decide to give up research and world saving and all, got a brilliant career ahead in comedy.”

“She IS,” he stubbornly insisted.

“Just so ‘appens I am in possession of a secret about Ms. Fareeha Amari,” Tracer told him with her usual brass confidence, casually somersaulting over the foot barrier and nestling in his side as if she’d never left it. “Immediately straightens out the playing field, so to speak, puts everyone on the same footing, yeah? Could be as I’ll see fit to share it, should a certain someone of my acquaintance do me the ‘onour of a smile.”

Winston rarely committed to a decision without full appraisal of the results and consequences. He was a man of ethics as much as science, knowing only too well what happened when fanaticism to one outweighed consideration for the other. This was the kind of dedication that made him one of the preeminent minds on the planet.

So it was that Winston was wholly, scientifically, ethically, resolutely committed to this pout.

But it was also true that Winston wouldn’t get more than three seconds of sleep that night if all he could see were Pharah’s stern, penetrating eyes as he lay awake imaging the hundred tiny ways she could destroy him with a word.

Winston gave Tracer his widest, most toothsome smile. He’d (unintentionally) made more than one person’s blood run cold at the sight of it, but Tracer only matched him, tooth for tooth.

“And the last of the garlic prawns.”

Winston’s smile dropped.

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

Excessive dalliance in alcohol was perhaps the greatest of equalizers, in Michiru’s view. Another glass of bright champagne, a fresh cup of chilled sake, one final nip of warm brandy. One could choose one’s path, but never alter its destination, and overindulgence cared little for class or breeding. Restraint slipped like grains of sand through the fingers of queens and soldiers alike.

Michiru tipped the glass to her lips. The vintage, the bouquet, the finish, all details that should effortlessly swim to the surface of her mind lay stagnant. As the wine trickled into her mouth and slid over her tongue, Michiru could not have even spoken to its adequacy. It was certainly present, occupied her hands, and gave legitimacy to the charade. This, it seemed, must suffice.

“No! She needs to KNOW!” Usagi’s voice, uncomfortably loud when drained of cheer, echoed across the ballroom. Rei’s intense, whispered response was, perhaps unsurprisingly, almost as easily interpreted.

Two glasses. A mere two glasses to bring her true thoughts to bear. How eager the wound, to bleed so readily at the knife’s first prick. Usagi batted at Rei’s hand, her red face glowing and hot against the soft blue of her blouse.

It was an effortless motion, to swirl the tasteless wine in her glass, and Michiru paid no heed to the storm she held in her hand.

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

“I have heard it said the sun never sets on the British empire.” Pharah tugged her jacket higher, trying to shield as much of herself as possible from the chill wind whipping through the narrow streets and narrower alleys of east London. The omnipresent thick grey clouds hung overhead, and Pharah glared at their insistence on being. “I believe this is because the sun would first have to rise.”

Tracer’s giggle came easily (she would laugh on the way to her grave, Pharah thought) and she jostled her shoulder into Pharah’s arm with an ease that would never cease to be unsettling. “Right embellisher, you are! Sun was positively blazing just last July!” Tracer gazed at the sky with the affection of a lovestruck puppy owner facing a wagging tail and the ruins of what was once their living room.

Pharah tried to burrow further into her jacket. “It is November.”

“And not February, exactly!”

It had all seemed a good idea at the time. The return of Overwatch, staunchly devoted to its ideals, founded in the global episcenter of London, symbolically rising from the ashes of its past tragedies. Few would accuse Fareeha Amari of overt romanticism, but in softer moments, she would concede perhaps a touch of kismet that felt … satisfying.

Then came the realities of finances versus London real estate. Then came cramped, tiny offices shared with enthusiastic, tiny pilots. Then came November.

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

Quiet. Quiet quiet quietquietQUIET.

She pleaded, she prayed, she screamed, but Madelyne’s heart thundered in her ears all the same, and if there was a god to hear her, to have pity, He was dead.

No. No, he wasn’t. That was the problem.

God was alive. God was hunting.

She slipped her hand, still humming with the thrill, from her jacket pocket. Pink and blue bled across her palm, seeping into the cracks and valleys, staining them. Madelyne’s eyes, glassy and distant, drifted to the neon sign dangling above a chipped red door, barely visible around the distended plastic of Hefty bags spilling their innards into the alley. She thought, somewhere distant and warm, that it should be poetic or some shit. Symbolic, that was the word. Liv loved to talk about that, about things that meant other things. Madelyne could listen for hours, her head in Liv’s lap, marinating in her whiskey voice.

The sign should be symbolic. Madelyne blinked and read it again.

“EAT”

Well that would be her fucking luck, wouldn’t it. She couldn’t possibly--

A gasp ripped from Madelyne at the sound of fluttering overhead, and she had time to hate the weakness in it as she curled into the shadows.

he heard he heard why am i so stupid why didn’t i stop it why did he have to hurt her

The pigeon had no answers, didn’t even have the decency to hoot an apology for scaring the shit out her. She wanted it dead, she could see it so clearly. Its tiny eye bulged in its socket as blood vessels expanded, exploded, burst. Feathers flying into the dark night sky, plucked in great invisible fistfuls. Useless wings snapped and twisted, trapped by gravity and the weight of Madelyne’s will.

She ground her fist into the filthy brick at her back, feeling the hardened grime and coarse edges split her skin. Pain clarified, as it always did, and the mounting pressure in her nerves slowly, reluctantly, receded.

“Asshole,” Madelyne instead hissed at the pigeon as she watched it flap away, ignorant and whole.

“Language.”

“The People’s Voice”, Madelyne had seen splashed across the cover of some idiot magazine. It wasn’t like she tried to hide her disgust or anything, but still the woman at the checkout line gushed all over him. So handsome, so strong, so brave, so blah blah blah god just ring up the fucking Ding Dongs already.

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

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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[my-writings-and-musings]

Here's my latest commission from another wonderful and amazing person! A human reader is secretly a pyrokinetic, but an attack on Rodimus forces them to reveal their powers, and the more they unleash the more their appearance changes...

Warning for some violence and angst!

In the back of your mind, your relationship with Rodimus had been oddly perfect and ironic in ways you'd never dare tell him. The Autobot's love of heat had extended well beyond a simple temperature preference; he had a power over fire you'd never seen the likes of before. Even his own species didn't seem to understand how naturally he wielded flames for combat, nor how he possessed such an incredible resilience to temperatures that would have been painful for most. For his part, the cocky captain took the peculiarity in stride, emblazoning himself with fiery motifs and embracing his nature using an adorable mixture of puns and catchphrases.

It was something you loved about him, and while it perhaps explained some of his adoration of the seemingly unremarkable human that had plopped into his life, it also made you a little wary for his sake. If he only knew how attuned with fire you really were...

The thought of him discovering your greatest secret was a daily intrusion, but for today, you decided that it could go on the back burner. The Lost Light would be docking on a planet safe for humans, and you wanted to enjoy the time off to the fullest of your ability. No worries, no paranoia, no thoughts of past rejection... just you and Rodimus exploring a vibrant alien city together. It was going to be perfect.

"Got your debit chip, Y/N? I'm planning on doing a lot of shopping, and I don't want you to feel left out!" Rodimus said, exuberant even by his own standards as he stepped out onto the landing pad. Giggling as you kept your balance on his shoulder, you let the warm light of a foreign star cascade over your body with a sigh, the sight of a bustling alien port making your heart accelerate in your chest. All around you were races from a hundred different worlds, selling their wares and taking rest stops to relax during long intergalactic trips, and the flurry of sounds and sights and smells was intoxicating. You almost forgot to confirm the device Rodimus mentioned was indeed secure around your neck in a makeshift necklace.

"Got it right here! Show me where we should start, Captain!" You held the tiny black square in between your fingers, unable to imagine something so small holding so much value. Evidently it was the spacer equivalent of a debit card, as the name implied, and after a purchase it would simply be scanned and the necessary amount deducted from your account. Its simplicity was almost as hard to grasp as the fact you'd been gifted a ludicrous amount of money for this trip by Drift. In his own words, the ninjabot had told you to spend it on having a fun day with his best friend. The kindness of the entire crew was still so foreign to you...

"Let's check out the surf shop! My last board melted on an especially high power asteroid, so I need a new one." Rodimus said cheerfully, hefting you a little higher so you were right beside his helm. As a somewhat taller than average individual from a naturally towering species, he had an ideal view over everything in sight, resulting in you having the same. Between the packed landing strip and the notion of a store that sold surfboards for space, you were a little too overwhelmed to speak. Rodimus had no such difficulty. "Oh, or if you're hungry, we could check out an interspecies cafe! They've always got lots of earth food, even out here. Especially the extra spicy stuff you like so much."

For an instant, you were taken aback by his mention of your preference. Had he truly been paying so much attention he noticed such little details? On the one, more dominant hand, you were flattered. Rodimus had to care deeply to have noticed you preferred your food as hot and zesty as physically possible.

"I'm not hungry just yet, but thanks." you said in genuine gratitude, hiding some wariness that you desperately wished would go away. In the past your unnatural preferences had been the first clue most had to your "peculiarities", and it had never taken long from that point for things to come together in the worst possible way. Holding on tight to Rodimus for more than just balance, you quickly returned to the wonderful present, refusing to fall into the belief that the past would repeat itself. "I just want to start wherever you think is best. You're the experienced one, show me what's fun around here!"

"Well, if it's fun you want..." he said in a fake contemplative voice, having obviously had an idea he was preparing to spring on you. Taking long strides through the narrow path left by the many other denizens of the spaceport, he gave you an eager and barely restrained grin. Something almost like childish glee seemed to twinkle in his brilliant blue optics.

"There's a holo-suite lounge in some hole in the wall locale by the bay. I've heard nothing but good things about it, and it's all above board. Want to go on a vacation in a vacation?"

Thinking over your limited knowledge of the virtual reality establishments, you knew more than anything how your beloved bot adored the experience of risk free adventure they offered, finding it to be relaxing due to his day to day life. You were more than happy to let him show you one at long last, and chuckled happily as you leaned against his helm. "I'd love to, Captain."

"Yes! I have got to show you the coaster simulation, it's totally wild!" he said in victory, pumping his arms so suddenly you were nearly cast off his shoulders. Recovering quickly and catching you, he let out an abashed cough as he made sure to resettle your tiny form before proceeding far more carefully. In the moment it took you to realize the lack of leg room would make it rather hard for him to trek it anywhere in good time, Rodimus gestured to a narrow gap between skyscrapers. "We can cut through some alleys to get there faster. I plotted it out on the satellite map before we landed."

Though it didn't seem especially smart, there wasn't anything to suggest the move would be dangerous, as the planet had been cleared entirely as a secure zone. The few whisperings of anti-Cybertronian bias were too small for anyone to be worried, so you nodded your assent to use the shortcut. Careful to stick to the narrow walkways for beings of his size, Rodimus kept you secure with one hand as he hopped an underwhelming barrier to access the alleyway, chatting the whole time about all the possible simulations the two of you could try. He's talking so fast it's actually impossible to keep up as he walks between two superstructures and down the alleyway that feels more like a canyon. As the hubbub of the crowd fades to the gentler din of the machinery keeping the city going, it's easy to forget your surroundings entirely, all to allow the other's excitement to wash over you. You don't even notice how the alleyway has tiny side sections for maintenance and smaller species to traverse safely.

Until you see one pop out right in front of you.

Rodimus stops politely, assuming initially he's just met another traveler that he plans on letting pass so as not to be rude. But the alien doesn't move. Though you can't read their expression, the none too tiny organic immediately sets of your alarm bells, and a hot knot of anxiety twists in your stomach as you tense atop your partner's stiffening shoulders. As awkwardness morphs into tension, the Autobot speaks with an even and cool tone.

"There a problem here?"

An answer came not from the insect like being in front of you, but from another stepping out in the space behind, their clawed hands curled about a weapon of unknowable function.

"Typical tin man, cutting corners and plodding around like it owns the place." they said, rasping voice echoing through the translator in your ear. Before you could even guess what they meant by a phrase that was probably intended to be an insult, more began to slowly emerge from splintering alcoves and alleyways, and in moments the two of you were surrounded. Skillful as Rodimus was in a fight, there had to be enough firepower between them all to make this far from an easy win. As heat crackled instinctively to your palms, the Autobot remained calm.

"Look, if this is your filthy back alley, I'll happily leave you to it. I've got better places to be and far more attractive company to enjoy." he said glibly, making you want to kick him for not being diplomatic. For his sake he needed to be, and as for you, situations like this one had never gone well in the past... Your heart began hammering as the lead alien replied with what was likely a glare.

"Bit too late for that."

Like sharks, they began to close in on the much bigger bot. You wondered how things could have taken a turn so quickly. This was a reputable port on a stable planet, how could it be unsafe? Had the two of you not just been planning a day of fun? These aliens had to have been waiting to be this prepared, and as the next one spoke you started to understand.

"Should have stayed in your own corner of space, tin man. We're not gonna let your kind set up shop here."

"Last I checked, this was a bot friendly planet." Rodimus replied, still unnerved but tense as a rock beneath you. He was getting ready, you knew, but for what was anyone's guess. As you held onto him you prayed the plan was solid, because the heat in your body was starting to grow to levels he might notice, and that couldn't be allowed to continue. Hopefully his need to stall wouldn't last long...

The circling group, that you counted at twenty or more, took the bait. "For now, until the beauracracy gets its priorities straight. In the meantime, we're here to make sure you don't bring your trouble to our home, like your kind always does."

"Plus, can't hardly expect the authorities to prosecute what they don't know about, can you?" another said, now so close Rodimus could have kicked them. The hatred in their eyes was beyond you, and their words made the heat in your gut twist into nausea. "Your kind is easy to clean up afterwards; melt down what you can and sell it all offworld."

Rodimus, one hand still steadying you, tightened his grip possessively. Time felt like it was slowing down as you looked about madly for an exit, swearing that the enemy seemed to double every time you blinked. There had to be over twenty of them now, and the high but narrow space gave your partner little room to work with you in the mix, something he seemed well aware of as he next spoke. "What about the human? They're innocent in all this, and organic. Let them walk away."

"They chose the wrong side." the apparent leader clipped.

Bright blue optics looked to you, and a hushed voice whispered at impossible speed.

"Y/N, when I say now, be ready to tuck and roll and run. No looking back, understand?"

There was no time to say you agreed, let alone to argue.

"Now!" he shouted as a high energy weapon began to hum in preparation, followed by so many others. Before you knew it you were being moved in a wild blur. Rodimus made good on his plan, moving as precisely as he could with your comparatively fragile body to toss you over the heads of the enemy. Using the reflexes you'd honed in his company, you did as you were bid more or less subconsciously, curling up and moving with the momentum so that your landing was less than disastrous.

"Rodimus!" you choked out upon catching your breath, turning to see the group advancing with their weapons glowing hot and ready.

I said run!" he shouted, not looking at you before taking care of the first row of attackers with a wide arcing kick. More seemed to be emerging every second, but the Autobot only looked concerned for you as he swiped away another batch. "Get the others! I can hold them off until-!"

With a screech, the first weapon fired, but there was no energy beam or bullet. Instead, Rodimus was ensnared in a tangled mess of high voltage cords, their arcing metallic webs circling his upper body like a snake. Crackling electricity seared across him in a blinding burst, and he was on his knees in moments, crying out at the agony that left him helpless. In rapid succession several more shots were fired. The Autobot was left to scream on his hands and knees, the electronic pulse weaponry having been specifically designed to cripple Cybertronians in seconds and kill them in minutes.

You knew he wouldn't last long enough for you to get help.

In last ditch desperation, you grabbed the cord on your neck and pulled, snapping it so the microchip in your palm could be held aloft. "Please! I have a debit chip worth thousands! Just take it and leave him alone!"

"Just something else to make this more worth our while." the alien you'd begged to sneered, giving you a kick straight to the gut with a deceptively powerful leg. The wind was knocked from your lungs, and you were left trembling on the ground. Vision spinning, you caught sight of Rodimus barely clinging to consciousness, his flaring optics pleading for you to run. Clawed hands had a hold of your arms before you could attempt to fight back, and the leader gave a casual order as they continued to fire pulse after pulse through the metallic web. "Grab the sympathizer; we'll take care of them after this one's fried."

It was clear that survival hinged on the unthinkable. Heat in your gut became molten as you summoned what you knew was your only hope, the air about you filling with the scent of smoke as you looked up Rodimus one final time as his partner. You'd always hoped it would never come to this, but fate, it seemed, was determined to be unkind.

"I'm sorry..."

The aliens on either side of you yelped and released their hold on your arms as the skin went from hot to searing, their confusion turning to fear as the heat only continued to intensify. Your clothes singed and the air thickened, and while it only took moments, the remaining attackers became aware of the change far too late. Shouts of alarm didn't register amongst the crackling sparks that started dancing up and down your body. It had been very long since you'd used these gifts, but you knew the steps far too well to ever forget.

A jet of flame erupted from your palms with the force of a rocket leaving the earth, blasting back numerous aliens from the sheer power. You heard screams but they hardly dissuaded you, as they'd all more than earned what was coming. The heat began to reach levels high enough to clear the air of any moisture, making those still alive after the first blast cough and struggle to breathe, all the while rendering them incapable of fleeing.

You should have just ended it there; cut the flames and told the survivors to get lost, but you weren't done. It felt far too good for you to stop.

A literal ring of fire encircled the gathered aliens, trapping them all in with you as they tossed aside their white hot weapons and tried to find a way out. Rodimus was immune even to the extreme heat, but dazed enough from his shock not to truly be conscious. You stepped over to him as the fire danced at the command of your fingertips. After the fear of the ambush, the choking heat and crackling flames felt like a breath of fresh air. You were at home in the inferno.

Hearing a scream, you realized rather quickly that payback was still due. Smiling softly, you beckoned the fire to move, controlling it with mere gestures and the simplest of thoughts. It danced like a snake would for a master charmer, coiling about the enemy and suffocating them. You were far too busy indulging yourself to notice how the waves of heat washed over your skin, particularly how the flesh hardened and patterns began to emerge like the scales of an otherworldly being. Similiarly, the sharpening of your teeth and the rise of claws from your fingertips drew no trace of concern. All that mattered was how good it felt to make your attackers pay.

There were more than enough of them for you to take your time, and so you did, keeping them corralled in the fire as you picked them off one by one. Had they expected anything like this when they'd made you a target? Had they prepared for the possibility that not everyone would just lie down and die? Had they even bothered to consider the Autobot wasn't the most dangerous being here?

As one body crumbled to ash, you got your answer in a way that made you smirk; clearly they hadn't.

As you began to run low on targets, it occurred to you that keeping up your wall of fire might draw unnecessary attention. Frowning around canines you realized had developed a lovely point, you decided to finish the fun. Clawed fingertips snapped together to command the flames to converge, and they did so in a heartbeat, jumping upon the survivors like rabid dogs on a meal. You barely registered a scream before ash and cinders began drifting past on a hot breeze. With another smile, you recalled their comment on crimes going unpunished when they were properly cleaned up. Dismissing the fire with a wave of your hand, you thought smugly on how these piles of soot would hardly suggest what had happened here.

Rodimus stirred from his daze, groaning in discomfort and shifting beneath the web of deactivated electric pulsers. Frowning at the sight, you summoned a thin jet of fire from your fingertips and got to work. The metal coils turned to red slag with very little effort, which melted down the heat resistant bot's body like wax before dripping to the ground around him. In no time you had him free, and while the flames actually seemed to perk him up a bit, the Autobot was clearly not in a good way. When he failed to awaken after you said his name your confidence started to dissipate. Heart hammering once more, you dropped to your knees beside his helm, hoping to wake him with some gentle encouragement to get him moving.

It was when you laid your hands on his helm that your thoughts shifted to horror, but not for his sake. The normal human hands you had once possessed were now tipped with wicked claws, and as your eyes trailed upwards you saw that your skin was patterned with scales of an equally inhuman nature. Sharp fangs registered with proper horror in your mouth now that the adrenaline of the moment was gone, and you realized that unlike every single time before, you weren't turning back to normal. You must have gone too far this time... How could you not have, killing dozens of people, as desperate as the situation may have been? You had liked it too, and even now you couldn't bring yourself to regret what you'd done...

"Y/N?" a raspy voice spoke up, startling you with good enough news that you momentarily forgot your panic. Rodimus stirred more effectively, groaning in pain but appearing otherwise stable as he lifted his helm off the ground and looked to you. His expression turned to fearful concern before you could speak. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?"

"I..." You didn't have the words. No doubt you were a horrifying sight, twisted as you were and smoking in your burnt clothes... It was a miracle he recognized you at all.

Rodimus narrowed his optics, perhaps thinking everything he'd seen was the result of processor trauma from his shock. "You burned them... I saw... but you don't have a weapon."

"I am the weapon." you blurted out, baring your fangs without meaning to. At his confusion, you tried to explain, a sinking feeling pulling you down as you did so. There was no way you could be with him like this... Appearance aside, you'd awoken a part of yourself you couldn't trust. Still, he deserved to know. "I never told you... I've always been able to do this, but could never go too far, unless..."

"You saved me." he whispered in awe, weak but insistent as he reached for you. On reflex, you pushed his hand away.

"I killed them. All of them. I finally lost control and now..."

Rodimus perked up a bit, looking desperate when your intent became clear to him. Even after a beating, he could read you well, and your decision to leave for his sake was clear in your face. "They were going to kill us both! You didn't do anything wrong-"

"Look at me!" you shouted back, curling clawed hands into fists as each grabbed at your head. You swore you felt newly erupted horns crowning your brows, and that discovery drew sizzling tears down your cheeks. "I burned them, and I liked it, and now I look like this! I'm a monster, and I'd do it again!"

"Y/N-"

Wiping away the wetness from your eyes, you stood up sharply, knowing he wouldn't accept what was best for him. "You can't be with me like this, Rodimus. I'm not even human..."

"I'm not either!" A gentle but insistent hand looped about your middle, turning you back around to look at him before he nearly collapsed from the effort of the movement. Wide blue optics pled to you as he did the same, baring his spark with every single word. "Please, Y/N, I know this is a lot for you but please... don't leave me... I can't lose you."

"Haven't you already?" you said bitterly, optimism nowhere to be found as you surveyed a clawed hand. Rodimus didn't flinch at the sight.

"You think a new look will scare me away? Plus, I'm fireproof, remember? You can't hurt me." he said with his best attempt at a winning smile in his current state. Losing it in an instant, he hugged you closer, optics betraying the depths of his pain and desperation as he did so. The Captain was holding on to you like a lifeline. "I need you, okay? Please, just give me a chance to work this out with you. I love you, no matter what."

It was the first time he'd told you that, but you knew he meant it. A softer heat, like a pleasant campfire, filled the space around your heart. Holding a digit of his in your hand, you gave a gentle squeeze. "I love you too..."

"So stay with me?" he said softly, pulling you in for something like a hug. Getting down on your knees, you cuddled close to his helm, a few stray tears dripping down onto his armor. Rodimus didn't even flinch as he whispered into your ear. "We'll figure this out. I don't care if this is the new normal, as long as you're with me."

"Okay..." you replied, nodding as you recalled the thoughts of irony you'd had just that morning. How perfect he was for you, a fireproof being so enamored he didn't see what a risk you were to everything... But if he was willing to try? Well, you couldn't deny how much you wanted this to work either... Holding him tight, you replied with the best promise you could give at the moment, but like him you meant it.

"We can try..."

Like this? You can commission me for a story of your own here!

[norelationtoatticus]

So...........anyone want to read my long, hyper-excited essay on why Sansa and Tyrion belong together, using character wound theory as evidence?

No?

Too bad. Here it is anyway. I have high-key shipped these two for years, alone in the darkness, because everyone thought I was crazy. Well, I don't look so crazy after that hand kiss, now do I?! (To all of you fellow long-time Sanrion shippers out there: I salute you.) Some people are just starting to ship them after that last episode. Some don’t see it at all and think that the idea of them together is off the wall and out of nowhere. I am here as a longtime weird-o cheerleader for these two to offer some perspective. Ship them or don’t, live your life! But they are definitely not coming out of nowhere. And here are 1500 words explaining why!!! 

(lololol...I have a problem, guys.)

Anyway, here's the essay. I’m putting this under a cut because the last couple of paragraphs do contain spoilers for the most recent episode, Season 8 Ep. 3.

First, an intro to character wounds, in case you are not a writer type or have not studied this concept.

When creating a character and setting them on their inner journey, one aspect writers tend to develop is the character's wound. A wound is a dark, sucking abyss in a character's psyche that influences all of their actions and choices. Typically, it comes from some sort of trauma in their past. This wound is all-encompassing. It affects their relationships, their decisions, their journey, as they seek (usually unconsciously) to fill or heal the wound. It's like a black hole around which the character's personality and motives swirl.

The reason why I think Sansa and Tyrion are completely perfect for each other? They have complementary wounds.

Let me explain.

Tyrion's wound is that no one has ever wanted him. I mean that on a multitude of levels. His father and sister detested him, made it quite clear that they did not want him in their family. They spent years telling him that his mother had died rather than have to raise him, which is awful and not true, but of course he has internalized their abuse. Even Jaime, who loves him, sides with Cersei and Tywin when it matters most. He loves Tyrion, but Tyrion is never his first choice. Even though Tyrion is obviously the most clever person in King's Landing, no one wants his advice or council. He's made Hand of the King, but immediately gets demoted as soon as his father comes back. Sexually and romantically, no one has ever wanted him. (In the show, anyway. Remember, he does not know the truth about Tysha in the show.) Even though he is one of the more sexually active characters early on, both he and the narrative make it a point to really hammer home that all of his experience is with prostitutes. He has never had a romantic or sexual relationship with a woman he didn't have to pay. All of this motivates him. This is what ties him to Daenerys, what keeps him loyal to her even when he really doesn't like some of her choices; he stays with her because she chose him. She threatens him, questions him, doesn't listen to him, accuses him of treason, and does a lot of things that Tyrion is not comfortable with. But he stays. Because she chose him. This is his wound. No one has ever wanted him. He has never been anyone's first choice.

Sansa's wound is that she has spent so much of her life as a prisoner, unable to make her own choices. That has been her entire journey. She went from being a prisoner in King's Landing, to a prisoner--albeit one with a bit more agency--with Littlefinger, to being a prisoner in Winterfell. She has been caged, trapped, forced into two marriages, used as a political tool by people like the Lannisters, the Tyrells, and Littlefinger who only see her as a pawn. She has had her bodily autonomy violated in the worst ways. She has been beaten and raped. Everyone took away her right to choose. Every step of the way, Sansa clawed and scraped to be able to make just a few choices of her own, to grab just a bit of her agency back. But for a long time, she was making whatever small, survival-based choices she could within the confines of various cages. Even now, she is bound to serve the choices of people who are more powerful than her--people like Daenerys, but also Jon. She is much freer now, and we have seen her taking up space and making choices for the past two seasons, at least. But she has more to do if she's really going to come into her own and take charge of her role. This is Sansa's wound: her imprisonment, the stripping of her agency, her lack of free will.

See? They're complementary. They're a matched set. And they offer each other a path to healing:

Sansa needs to make her own choices. And Tyrion needs to be chosen. 

What a lovely symmetry. It's like something deep in each of them has been calling out for the other.

There's more, too. 

On their awful, painful wedding night all those years ago, Tyrion was handed all of Sansa's agency. Now, let's be very clear: not raping someone should not be a high bar standard we're celebrating. That's awful. But in the world of GoT, where rape is so common place and lightly-used, I genuinely don't think many men would have done what Tyrion did. And then he did something even better. Sansa had been trapped, imprisoned, for a while by that point. She had no freedom, no choice. Tyrion had all of her free will held tightly in his grasp. He could have done anything to her, and no one would have blinked. But not only did her refuse to do anything against her will, he took it a step further. He handed some of her freedom of choice back to her. He didn't just refuse to abuse her. He actually literally said, "I will not share your bed until you want me to." Until you want me to. He handed a little bit of power back to her in that moment, and he never once tried to take it away again, even when Sansa said, "What if I never want you to?" To be clear, I do not ship them in this time period. Not even close. This marriage was awful, even though they found some kindness in it. Sansa never could have learned to love Tyrion back then. She was a child. They had both been forced into the marriage. And she was so ruthlessly trapped and imprisoned in King's Landing, there was no way she could ever feel anything but fear and hate while she was there. But now? With some years of distance? With some growth for both of them? When they're both free to choose it? I suspect real feelings could grow between them.

Until you want me to... ...What if I never want you to?

You know, she never actually said no, never. Maybe she just need a lot of years and a lot of change...

There's also just the fact that they really complement each other, in terms of personality and what I think they would each want in a partner. Their minds and the way they think are a matched set. They're both very intelligent, ruthless when they need to be, and yet kind and good at their cores. Sansa is one of very few people in the world who can stand up beside Tyrion, match him wit for wit, cover his blind spots, act as a real partner to him. And Tyrion is literally everything Sansa has ever wanted, exactly the kind of man she admired in all the romantic songs: a brave, noble, handsome, heroic lord with a heart of gold. She just had to do some growing before she could see all of that in him, because he’s not exactly conventional.

Anyway, long story short, Sansa and Tyrion are legit perfect for each other. This is why I ship them. This is why you should be shipping them. (Please, good lord, more people ship them. There is not a whole lot of Sansa/Tyrion fic, and I really don't have the time to write it all by myself, guys.)

Do I think they're actually going to get together in the show? Maybe! Maybe not! Who knows! I won't be upset if they're not actually canon. I still love the pair. This show doesn’t do romance super well, and romance is not often a priority, so I am definitely not holding my breath. But I do have a few thoughts.

As to whether or not they're actually going to get together on the show, a few thoughts from the last episode: 

1) The damn world was ending, they were all about to die, this was not an opportune time to be flirting with each other! But did that stop them? No, it did not. 

2) The moment that they shared in the crypts, backs to the wall, side by side, and sure they were about to die, was one of the most intimate moments this show has ever given us. These were two people who deeply understood one another, acknowledging without words that there was a whole world of things left unsaid between them. That hand kiss? So tender. So loving. And yes, of course you could take that scene as platonic. Maybe it was. Quite possible. But, in my defense, I know and follow a whole lot of romance authors. Most of the romance authors I know saw that moment as deeply, wildly romantic, even if they had never shipped this pair before. So there's that, from a bunch of people who write romance for a living.

3) Sansa told Tyrion they would never work because of his loyalty to Daenerys. This felt...um...first of all...like a hell of a conversation to be having while you think the world is ending. I would not be surprised if Sansa was laying some ground work, trying to get ahead of the curve in grabbing Tyrion to her side in case they actually survived. It made me think Sansa has Plans ™ . But also, this one feels obvious, tbh. The show has been building up a conflict and a tension between Tyrion and Daenerys for two seasons now. He has made a lot of bad calls that have her questioning his judgement and loyalty. She has made plenty of her own bad calls that have him questioning whether she is fit to rule.They are ready for a blow out. And if Sansa presents another option? If Sansa is there as someone who wants him, wants to choose him, wants to love him? I suspect Tyrion’s loyalty won't be split for long.

[tiny-maus-boots]

If you can, I’d love a one shot about the redhead and her Cowgirl. Fluffy, smutty, doesn’t matter. Love those two! 🖤

Hope you like it, sorry I didn’t edit it. Of course it’s after 3 am and I haven’t slept in days so please ignore the wonky. 

Garters and Gunslingers - Bechloe

“Oh son of a turkey…” The shot went wide over her head but pinned down the way she was it was still too close for comfort. Beca tempted fate and peeked around the barrel, pulling back only just in time as another bullet came her way. “Sorry I called your mother a sow!” Another shot and she winced when it went right through the barrel just over her left shoulder. “Okay I’m NOT sorry I called her a sow you stupid cow fucking son of a bitch!” Beca shot off a few of her own rounds from around the barrel.

There were another couple of shots and then it got quiet. Beca looked for a way out of her current situation but she was well and truly stuck. There was no cover she could get to without taking a huge risk of being shot. It was her own fault really. She had gotten drunk before the sun had even risen, saddled her horse and rode to the furthest corner of the territory that she could get to before…

But she hadn’t gotten far. Not nearly far enough away before her horse went lame. She’d walked the rest of the way to a town she didn’t even know the name of and decided she was too thirsty to leave. And that’s where all her troubles started. Well. Not all. She wasn’t too drunk to realize she was running as fast as she could away from laughing blue eyes and a smile that had always made her weak. Beca tipped up the bottle she had forgotten she was holding in her free hand.

The whiskey slid down her throat in hot wash that normally made her cough and sputter but now just felt like a welcome pain. Beca rested the bottle on the ground and spun the cylinder on her revolver. There was one bullet left, and by her standards only one chance to try and get out of this. Beca raised the bottle again but a bullet shattered it in her hand. She looked at it mournfully then tossed the broken neck aside. “Well damn.”

“C’mon out you coward!”

“Hey! I am not a coward. Jesse…now he’s a coward. Can you believe that horse’s ass left me to die?? After all we had been through?”

There was silence for a moment and then a chuckle. “Shame. You seem like a real peach!” More masculine laughter rang out and Beca rolled her eyes. Ha fucking ha. “You’re outgunned three to one, so you might as well give it up.”

Another shot but she suspected it was only meant to punctuate the statement that she had run out of time. She bumped her head back against the wooden side of the barrel and took a deep breath. Beca closed her eyes against the bitter image of Cutter Beaufort on bended knee in front of Chloe, asking her so earnestly to be his wife. She was always running out of time. The days after he’d proposed had been a blur and she had thought she’d have more time….

But there had never been enough time for her to work through it. To learn to trust the way she had trusted Jesse with her heart. And now there wasn’t enough time for her to survive let alone speak all her close held secrets to the only person that ever really mattered. Beca gave the cylinder another spin to let the single round fall where it may. It didn’t really matter, her heart wasn’t in the fight, not anymore.

Beca rose up from behind her cover, screaming as she pulled the trigger. Her aim was oddly perfect and the first target in her sights went down hard. It was just muscle memory that made her swing her arm to the right to sight down her next target and pull the trigger. Her eyes widened in surprise when a man she wasn’t even aiming at fell to the ground dead. She looked at the gun in her hand and shook it as if that would somehow explain what had just happened. She had been momentarily distracted and the last man took aim and fired, the shot ricocheted off the ground at her feet and she danced back in fear. “Jesus Christ!”

A gunshot echoed out and the last man fell without her ever pulling the trigger. She blinked blearily at the gun in her hand then let it drop to the ground. It went off with a loud bang and she jumped. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” Beca whirled to face the low drawling voice and sighed.

“Oh hell…”

It was a second before Aubrey’s heavy hand slapped the crap out of her. Beca stumbled back and fell to the ground under the stinging blow. She raised a shaking hand to her cheek as Aubrey stared down at her with cold green eyed fury. “That was for making me leave my best friend on her wedding day. Now get up.”

“Are you going to hit me again?”

“GET. UP.”

Beca scrambled up but took a cautious step back to keep out Aubrey’s reach. “Ow.” Aubrey gave her a sharp look and she realized that she was toeing a very thin line. Beca worked her jaw, the sting in face made her wince but she didn’t dare complain again. “What are you doing here, Bree?”

“That is the very question I am asking myself right now.” Aubrey glanced around at the people starting to peer out of windows and doorways now that the commotion was largely over and sighed. “We need to go. Before this becomes a bigger problem than you running your mouth faster than you can pull a gun. Again.”

She hated it when Aubrey was right but Beca nodded and followed along because she didn’t think she had any other choice. The blonde whistled shrilly for Rowdy and mounted him easily when he trotted up to them. The blonde looked down at her expectantly and Beca kicked a small stone with her foot, unable to meet the hard stare.

“I can’t Bree… I can’t see her marry someone else.”

“Then tell her how you feel Beca. Because she’s set to marry Cutter because he’s not afraid to tell her what she means to him.” Beca’s shoulders hunched at that, feeling Bree’s words like a sucker punch to the gut. It was hard to hear the truth of things and she balked at the idea of what Aubrey was suggesting she do.

“Yeah well by the time I get there it’ll be too late. And what if she lea…oh Jesus! Put that away will ya!”

Beca had looked up just as Aubrey had drawn her gun and pulled back the hammer. She had no doubt that the blonde would pull the trigger and shoot her where she stood.  “Gimme a reason, Bec. I swear by the Almighty I will put you out of all our misery right here and right now.” Beca took a deep breath and Aubrey’s eye twitched as if she were itching to do exactly what she said. “I get that you’re afraid. You been hurt bad, hurt in a way that ain’t easy to fix. But if you think for one second that Chloe would betray you…”

“I don’t.” And she didn’t. She knew it in her soul that Chloe would rather take a bullet than hurt her in any way. “What if….what if it’s too late?”

“Ride fast.” Aubrey gave her gun a twirl and slid it back into her holster. She kicked her heels into Rowdy’s flank, launching into a strong gallop. Beca raised her hands and let them drop to her sides.

“My horse is lame!”

“You a thief or not?”

Oh. Right. Beca gave a frustrated huff and ran to the nearest saddled horse tied to a hitch post. Someone came out from the general store but she didn’t dare wait for them to demand their horse back. Beca tightened her legs around the horse’s middle after a swift kick to get the mare going. She leaned forward behind the horse’s head as she struggled to catch up to her friend.

They rode hard for hours, long enough for the sun to make its slow decline toward the horizon and she knew that they were cutting it mighty close. The church loomed up before them, the doors already closed. Beca skidded to a stop and slid off the back of her mount, pushing its shoulder to nudge it out of the way. She almost hesitated but the too casual way Aubrey stroked the handle of her gun led her to believe that it was in her best interest to stay the course.

“Now or never Beca. Choose.”

Beca gave a nod and ran up the three steps to the door. The whitewashed wood was rough under her hands when she pushed in the doors and stumbled into the small church. “Wait!” Everyone turned in their seats to watch her as she panted more from the stress of the situation than exertion.

Cutter sighed heavily from the pulpit and held on to Chloe’s hands tighter. He wasn’t the bad sort and for any other person she’d be thrilled that they’d managed to find a good man that was handsome and rich. But this was Chloe and no one would ever be quite good enough, not even Beca herself.

“Beca Mitchell…of course. I almost thought you’d bow out gracefully.” Cutter’s voice was deep and clear and the disappointment was heavy in his words.

“Well thank God for tiny miracles.” Beca looked over her shoulder at the tall figure leaning against the back wall of the church. Stacie tipped her head up just enough to grace Beca with a smirk as if she had always known Beca would make an appearance. “What happened to your face?”

Beca brought her hand up to touch her tender cheek and realized she must have a hell of a mark. “The hand of God.”

Stacie chuckled and glanced over at Aubrey who had slipped into the church behind Beca. “And what a skilled hand it is.” The look in her eyes was so much more than the salacious words coming out of her mouth. It filled Beca’s heart with warmth and a longing to feel that kind of love without wondering when it was going to be stolen from her.

“You’re sweatin’ like a hoor.”

Stacie broke her gaze from Aubrey and chuckled with a shrug. “Well I am in a church, might catch fire any second now so you best hurry and state your piece.”

Beca nodded and started up the aisle that seemed to be getting longer with each step. Chloe had yet to look at her and she knew that there was a chance that it was already too late. She was to the foot of the pulpit before Chloe raised her head and met her gaze. She looked beautiful and for just a second Beca had forgotten how to breathe. “Chlo…”

“Becs….”

“Cutter.” They both turned to him and he gave a soft unhappy chuckle. “Don’t suppose you’re here to give your blessing.”

“No…no I’m not. I’m sorry Cutter, I am. But I love her. I have always loved her.” There was a quiet sniff from Chloe and Beca swallowed hard. “Even if it’s too late…I have to be honest. I’m not as good with my words as I am with my knives but, I love you Chloe. I think maybe I always have. Even when I was with him…it was you. It’s was always you in my heart. I can’t see nothin’ but you and I know Cutter can give you things I can’t. Money, safety…a family.”

As much as she hated the idea of Cutter and Chloe getting married, she hated what she was doing to him just as much. He didn’t deserve it and the more she spoke the more she realized what she was asking of Chloe.

“The only thing I got is all my love. But my whole heart is yours if you want it. An’ I’m sorry I never said it before, sorry I waited until you were at the altar before I found my words. And I’m sorry to you Cutter because it’s not fair and…if I were in your shoes I’d have shot me the second I ran through the door.”

“The thought may have crossed my mind.” The rows of town folk behind her chuckled in nervous amusement. “Truth of it is, I don’t rightly blame you. Much. Chloe, darlin’, you’re awful quiet. You can put your guns down and live the life of a well-cared for wife. Or…”

It seemed the whole church was holding their breath waiting. Beca risked a glance at Chloe. “Or a life of fighting, but I swear it’ll never be boring.”

A tear tracked down Chloe’s cheek and she wiped at it absently. “I’m sorry Cutter. You’re everything a girl dreams of but…”

“But?”

“She’s the only one I ever dream about.”

Cutter let out a deeply disappointed sign and kissed her cheek before placing her hand in Beca’s. He held their hands a second and levelled a meaningful look at Beca. “Don’t you break her heart Mitchell, or I will hunt you down and put you in the ground.”

“No sir, I won’t.”

He gave a short nod and gestured to the door. “Well g’wan then. Git. Before I change my mind.”

Beca wasn’t going to give him the chance for that, her grip on Chloe’s hand tightening as she tugged them toward the doors at a good sprint. For once she had been right on time. “Beca…what happened to your face?” Beca laughed as they burst out the doors to her new horse waiting so patiently.

“Let’s just say Aubrey gave me a heavy helping hand.” Chloe gave a musical laugh and Beca’s heart swelled. They had plenty of time now that they were together.

[douxreviews]

Game of Thrones - ‘Winterfell’ Review

Six episodes over two months to close a story the author hasn't been able to finish in 20 years.

It could work.

As 'Winterfell' kicks off the show's ultimate season, I can't imagine I've been alone in a certain trepidation that Things Might Just Go To Hell. George Martin has only delivered "sporadic verses" pertaining to the saga over the last seven years, and I couldn't help but feel certain parts of last season uninspired, as if the showrunners were treading water through key parts of the storyline, hoping against hope that George might finally get his thumb out of his... ehm, and actually deliver.

Surely after one paltry episode it's too early to tell, but my feeling is that David and Daniel have given up that hope, and the show might be better for it. While hardly a perfect installment, sometimes even a bit clumsy in execution and dialogue, what I am left with is a true sense of urgency and a driving force set in motion.

By now it's painfully clear that George has painted himself into a corner – twisting not one but two dozen knots on himself and finding it impossible to reach the end in any graceful fashion. Fortunately, the producers have not. It's always been stated that safeguarding against a disaster (as in Martin relocating six feet under,) the producers were provided with an outline of how the show must end. Some people doubted this. I was mildly skeptical. Now I'm certain.

George may be tasked with his own impossible standards. While I'm certainly no world-class author, considering my own erratic output lately... I could relate.

The writing team of Benioff, Weiss, Sandhu, and Antonucci – the second pair both young and remarkably scoring their very first writing credits at this super-heavyweight event – are not similarly burdened. They are television writers and producers; their job is to write scripts and produce, and from what it seems they're hellbent on doing it. Also, their task is to work towards a known end, and that might be a rare luxury for people in the business. The whole essence of 'Winterfell' is purposeful setup, as they are dealing the hands for the final run.

This review won't talk about the great scenery, the music, the technical aspects of the direction or any of that. You've all seen that and I may not even be qualified to say much on some of it. The main reasons being I don't watch anything for technical aspects or to count the occasional missteps or insignificant blunders. I watch for content, and 'Winterfell' serves plenty, some not even quite that obvious.

Thus this review will just focus on a few key scenes of the episode.

The first one would be the reunion of Jon and Arya. The show's been pouring these sentimental moments over us lately, to the point where there's gone inflation in the Stark hugfests, but even if they aren't really that important, this one had merit. For one, it's the one reunion scene all fans of the show have been rooting for since the very first episodes. For the other, this has to be the first time we get to see Arya smiling and happy, almost acting like a little girl again, since her father was decapitated. Even her look of awe as she first lays eyes on her brother again, heading the giant army marching into their home, is absolutely fantastic.

The second, less pleasant and more significant, involves Cersei's decision to task Bron with murdering both her brothers, veering dangerously close to putting her in comic book villain territory. Killing Tyrion? Sure, I can buy that, I'm wondering why she hasn't been harder at work on it for years.

Jaime? No. True, they did not depart on the best of terms, but this is the closest thing Cersei's had to that "one true love" in all her life. Furthermore, I can't even think of an earlier time where Jaime openly defies her will, and his motive isn't even to spite her – it's to make good on his word. One could argue that an extension of their unofficial family motto. Making sense of her reaction, one could assume she isn't capable of entering any real emotional relationship where the counterpart isn't her slave and she isn't in total control of everything.

Crossing this line strips her of all redeeming qualities as a person, and her subsequent bored hookup with Euron – arrogant and self-assured like the Jaime of old, but also a perverted and sadistic thug with no moral stature or higher calling whatsoever, but a shade or two removed from Ramsay Bolton – feels both earned and appalling.

I don't know why the show takes this step. It could be a catalyst to bond the two feuding Lannister brothers together, or maybe the writers are prepared to sacrifice some of Cersei's believability as a character for some central purpose. That doesn't make it good, and I'm left on the fence on this one.

The third scene is Jon and Dany's romantic getaway with the dragons. Like Jon and Arya, this is heavy fan-service – the kids want dragons, we got to give them dragons, and hey look, how cool, Jon's riding a dragon!

Reducing it to that would overlook the dramatic purpose of the scene, which is easy and something I've tried to hammer in for years when it comes to writing couples in conflict. Jon and Dany need a happy moment. The audience needs to be shown they're in love and know what they're fighting for as well as what they have to lose.

...shipping it.

And this brings us to the fourth scene, namely, Dany's standoff with Sam over her murder of his father and brother. Now, this was truly heartbreaking, and its importance cannot be overstated, as this may mark the beginning of her undoing.

It could be exaggerated or plain wrong as things play out – though I really don't think so – but I'd wager that dramatically, this is the episode where Daenerys the Protagonist dies. At the very least, the poison's in the wound. She started the victim, progressed the hero and is now found out the would-be tyrant.

It's true, other people considered both noble and worthy by the show have killed many men by the laws of their lands, but what Dany is guilty of is executing prisoners of war in order to scare her foes into submission, and that's hardly noble. Through this episode, circumstances cause the perfect storm to have her cruelty come back to bite her – in a rare occasion for Game of Thrones, this is the one bad deed that won't go unpunished.

Anyone who'd think this could go away – we've never seen Sam truly angry before, hurt to his very core and or using all his guns to hurt someone as he does Dany through the revelation of Jon's birthright. For such a gentle soul, this is quietly frightening. He's both clever, determined and arguably even righteous in his hatred. This will only solve through the destruction of the other party, and Sam's been Jon's best friend since the very first episodes.

Some people thought the show was sweeping Dany's flaws under the rug to keep her the shining figurehead. That was wrong. On the contrary, the way the scene plays out shows a nuanced understanding of the spirit of the source material on the part of the screenwriters. It doesn't even matter if it's the same understanding as the original author's, since it's now the show's ultimate job to succeed on its own merits.

While I guess nobody really cares, one month ago I developed a case of serious loathing of American television and cinema, their overused tropes and painting-by-numbers morality, to the point I could no longer stand to watch any.

Remarkably, Game of Thrones, the biggest American show of the decade, broke through, simply through the virtue of understanding and staying true to itself.

Thanks for that.

Thomas Ijon Tichy

[flirtationswithhappiness]

‘Tell me what you want to hear, something that will light those ears, sick of all the insinceres, I’m gonna give all my secrets away’

Secrets by One Republic. It is amazing how the songs you really need sometimes, just come on. Thank you Internet.  Priorities. Something I have been thinking about a lot recently. What are the things we prioritize in life. That determines our behavior and actions. Who or what do we value that we will drop anything to do it. And now I am realizing that maybe my priorities have been misguided.

For me, in decreasing order, they have been

Talking to you

Talking to other friends

Professional Stuff

Myself

Family

This has been pretty much the standard for the past 8 years of my life. Could be ‘love’ or could just be an idiot kid. In hindsight, probably the latter. Thinking that somehow this would make him happier or that devoting yourself to one person was the way that it should be. Have an exam in a couple of hours but your phone beeps and you spend the next hour talking to that person cos you think they need you. Keeping track of the time difference and schedule of the other person without expecting the same in return. ‘This is how it’s supposed to be like’. My needs do not matter, I come way down in the priority list. So what if she does not even bother remembering the time difference or know what is going on in my life. I am invested and have been for a significant portion of my life and this is all I have known.

Couple months ago, you wrote a post about the case for casual sex. Initially I just perused it and let it be. I was doing it for seemingly purer reasons, to gain experience, so that again, I could be a better ‘fit’ for you. I didn’t need to date or even try. I was perfectly happy in my own little bubble.

My thinking began to change as I spent more time hanging out with other girls over the summer and not comparing them to you.  I actually enjoyed those conversations, much more than I thought I would. And I was able to voice opinions on things and talk about things that I cared about. When I started hanging out with Anna, I was initially very scared. What should I do, how should I make myself more attractive to her. What part of my personality do I have to change? That is all I have known, as I have slowly changed the very core of myself from an introverted bespectacled geek to a more stable, successful person who is doing things 18 year old me would never have dreamed of.

However, I realized that to her, I was fine the way I was. If I wanted to sleep in on a Saturday, that was fine. If I wanted to get super hammered on a Wednesday night, totally cool too. I frequently wondered why she would date me, considering that she was way more attractive and athletic than me. But slowly I just accepted that she did and that I did not have to go out of my way to impress her. If I just did the things that I normally would do, she was happy to join me on those. This was all very strange to me as I had come to expect that one has to work up to the expectations of the other person. Got to be healthier, more athletic. Was half expecting her to one day tell me that I looked fat and that I should work out more, since she ran so much and was a varsity athlete in college. But no, that never came. Very weird indeed.

Fast forward to this weekend. The conversation that comes up every other week. ‘We’ should text less, where we is a thinly veiled reference to me texting you. It’s about priorities and the people and life around you. You have to spend more time on them, but you’ll blog or message me when you feel like it. A lot of what you need and very little on what I can expect. But that is fine, that’s the expected nature of this ‘relationship’. You whisper and I will come running. And the cycle repeats.

But this time, I actually thought hard and long about it. What is it that I’m really getting out of it? Some future hope of ‘dating’ you as the ultimate prize. However, as you pointed out, I am clearly not qualified for that. I don’t run or climb and I can’t be trusted because I did not send you a bartending set, which I had promised. The things that I do like to do, are of no interest to you, and hence make me totally incompatible for you, as I do not fit the image of a perfect partner that you have concocted. Maybe it is time for me to realize that too.

Life is about priorities and it is about time that I reevaluate mine. I am taking a full load of classes, not to mention trying to run and grow a business while at the same time trying to bring hundreds of thousands of dollars to the university. I do have someone who I absolutely adore and miss every day who I should focus on. And even if that does not last, I should try to find someone who accepts me for who I am, not who they want me to be. Most importantly, I need to focus on myself and the people around me who actually appreciate and respect what I do.

So, in conclusion, we should probably chat less. You have your students and your dogs and your new fwb. Proximity is very important and you should make full use of that before you go to grad school. If you want to talk, send me a message and I’ll try to reply to it as soon as I can. Or I going to start a daily journal of sorts and you can follow it, or not. As is usual, totally up to you.

Lastly, I ordered all the things that you wanted, because I did not want to keep thinking about it. If you were wondering why I had taken so long, it’s not because I did not care about you. It was simply because, I did not trust the delivery time of approx. 40 days on most items nor the inevitable fraud emails I would get from my American Express. But, my sanity is more precious to me than dollars and even if the items do not reach you, I will have fulfilled my ‘promise’ which is what really matters you. I’ll forward the emails as soon as the items are shipped.

 A

[spc4eva]

Morning Wind: Raincloud

I promised some angst and writing. I try to deliver. I ended up deciding to write something with a lot of imagery because I want to work more on my detailing in writing.

I was heavily inspired by Japanese culture and created a bunch of space shit, which I like to do. I don’t know how often I’ll be updating this fic. But please enjoy.

This chapter is mostly preface and because I wanted to write pretty settings. Also I’ve taken some liberty with Fennec Shand’s background.

Summary: House Shand was always a prestigious name within the galaxy, one of five Shogun families dwelling on Jakon. With deep ties to the Jedaii and a history of Force-sensitive ancestors, two paths diverge. One the path of an assassin and the other who still desperately clings to the Bushido despite the fall of their people. Two sisters with paths interlaced and songs battling. Two sisters and one who helps the Mandalorian.

Word Count: 3,010

Rating: T (for cursing and violence)

Cross posted on AO3

Rain rarely fell on such an arid, hot planet, sulfuric tendrils snaking up from the lava flats in miasmatic fingers, reeking of ozone and plunging down any foolish enough to be out on a Red Day without a proper mask. Twisting above in a choppy, brooding storm, the sky reflected the obsidian hills; dark, menacing, a hellish wind scathing the countryside and riding like the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse beneath the crumbling archway. Pelting those outside, the gnashing teeth of the air nipped at cloaks and fabric, grabbing wary travelers in an attempt to ferry them out and into the sky, toward the gaping mouth of the foreboding clouds which roared like a dragon with thunder.

Greef Karga leered out through the long, rectangular window behind the bar of his establishment. Dozens of hunters were holed up in the cantina, huddled in their cloaks to ride out the storm. They weren't common, but when they did come, it was as if every petulant God in the galaxy had tilted their wrathful eyes, smiting the already inhospitable landscape that was Nevarro. The first fat raindrops were accompanied by a strike of lightning on the horizon that quaked the earth with the yawn of a mighty titan stirring deep within the volcanoes.

 He grimaced, fingers tightening around his spotchka as the glowing blue liquid seethed at the edges, ripples produced with each thunderous strike of the weather, the titan had gone to its forge and was hammering the core of the planet sending out crashes and booms, accented by the staccato thrumming of the rain and the wailing soprano of the wind. Each storm creates a new orchestral symphony, raw, powerful, and dangerous. This would only last the better part of a day, maybe two if they were truly unfortunate; their composer might bless them with an encore of his work, which would result in more anxious, moody bounty hunters as they were forced to stay on-planet. No one could fly from the space-port without risk of being taken down by, the affronted composer had done this before, spitting on those who couldn't endure the beauty of his work, sending them down to the depths where his percussionist, the titan, could reforge the steel of their starship and melt it amongst the Nevarran core.

 It was on one of these days, a fateful storm, that he met one of his best hunters.

 The door to the cantina hissed open, hydraulics moaning painfully as the wind shrieked in, stealing the souls of the nearest patrons who shrank away as if shadowed by reapers. A curtain of rain made the figure nearly indistinguishable as they hovered there, a forlorn and drowned visage, contemplating being resigned to their fate in the storm or taking the opportunity to seek shelter. Only when a hunter snarled in indignation at the door still being open, did the silhouette finally pass the watery threshold and enter the common house of the Guild.

 Puffing shut, the figure stood there dripping as if they'd just gone swimming in Nevarro's nonexistent ocean. Eyes turned, tracing the details of the stranger, and spines stiffened. Karga's own interest was piqued, as he had never seen this hunter before, but he knew of the stories from the lush planet on which they hailed.

 Beautiful crimson robes clung to the stiff edges of armor that was hidden beneath the folds of kimono. The thick fabric, despite being soaked, was large and loose on the stranger. Black and gold mist spiraled up from the hem and curled breaths of onyx clouds along the scarlet shoulders and collar. The layers beneath were black and the sharp curves protruding indicative of the figure being a droid or the metal beneath an ensemble of hidden armor. Karga placed his bet on the latter, admiring the finery.

 The people of Jakon had always been renowned for their eye for detail and beauty in all facets of life, be that war, love, culture, or poetry. Dripping on the stoop was an example of this tantalizing poetry, from the curve of a thick ashen scarf hemmed with silver tracings, to the wide brimmed conical hat that cut the figure's face from view. The mysteriousness of the Jakonian was just as enticing and succulent as a Mandalorian's; a forbidden fruit on a tree just as likely to poison as to provide life. But there were distinct differences between the two cultures, as Jakon still thrived, as did its people. A collection of multicolored sashes along the figure's obi secured one of the famed blades.

 He had met Jakonans before, but never one who possessed one of those weapons. A katana forged of Tamahagane, a steel just as coveted around the galaxy as beskar. While not impervious like the Mandalorian steel, it was known for producing the sharpest edges that never chipped or required sharpening. Even vibro-blades were all a mock imitation of what Jakonans had perfected thousands of years ago. Master artisans poured their hearts and souls into the detailing, which he could not make from his spot in the corner of the cantina. The sheathe, however, was glorious. A long, curved strip of magnificence based in charcoal and overlaid pale powder blue clouds swirling up to greet the crossguard of the sword in a gentle kiss. A golden serpent curved around the clouds, flat head notching to the seam and brushed close to where the Jakonan's gloved palm rested naturally.

 Crimson fabric laden with water snapped outward to reveal a sandaled foot. The clicking might have gone unnoticed if every eye in the room was not fixated on the blood-hued enigma that was carefully trotting forward, the edge of their rice-hat tilted downward, charms tinkling on the guard of the sword. Instead, each clack echoed, a dull solo in the mad symphony of the hurricane blasting the windows with feral wrath.

 Karga's heart began to thrum with the beat of the sublime music, the clacking sandals drawing to a rallentando as the figure halted in front of him. A peal of lightning illuminated the entire cantina, a fatal strike juxtaposed to the space-port. The searing white light blinded the patrons, himself included, eyes rapidly readjusting as the hat tilted up and he caught his breath, convinced he was in a nightmare. No human face greeted him beneath the cowl of wide brimmed hat. Frozen in an animalistic snarl, tusks, a snout, and menacing metallic teeth were peeled at him. Shocked for the briefest moment, it took the man a beat to realize that the face was an ornate, detailed metal mask in the shape of a ferocious wolf, detailed all the same with swirls of steel clouds.

 Covering the entirety of the Jakonan's face, the eyeholes of the figure covered by dark, transparent plastoid that mortal eyes were gazing out from. Karga could not see the stranger's eyes, but he knew they were there, just as he knew that beneath the T visors of a Mandalorian, their eyes were also there. Though, Mandalorians were imposing for a different reason and not because their helmets were fashioned to be intimidating as the somen mempo that the Jakonan donned.

 "Welcome," Karga entreated after battling his racing heart, opening his palms to shatter the disconcerted silence that threatened to smother the cantina as eyes continued to leer in the direction of the warrior. "What may I do to help a fine, regal Jakonan such as yourself?" Flattery was his favorite weapon, smoothing over his workers, making them think he actually gave half a womp rat's ass about them. All that mattered was making deadlines and bringing in bounties. He already had a Mandalorian in his employ, but not a Jakonan and Karga was a collector.

 "Work," simple, to the point, and astonishingly not curt. The voice was being translated through a modulator in the mempo, a gravelly, grating tone that was harsh on the ears, flipping the original voice on its head and dropping it an octave. Despite the cordiality of the tone, the demonic grinding of it made the hairs on Karga's neck stand straight up.

 "Are you a member of the Guild?" he inquired lightly, trading the minute details in the embroidery on the kimono, the rutting sharp lines of the armor hidden beneath. The figure was not tall or short, nor exceptionally broad. However, a person could be intimidating and be two feet high. It was the confident set in the shoulders, throwing them back in erect, perfect posture and the constant need to have a hand on the pommel of the sword. The hilt elegant wrapped in gold shimmersilk.

 "No."

 A man... or creature of few words. No matter, Karga dealt with this type quite often. Bounty hunters were not typically chatty persons. "Then I'm afraid we're at an impasse. I can give you an introductory job in order to earn your keep, but otherwise I cannot hand out typical pucks. A standard introductory job would be low paying-" he started with the details, the figure craning in to listen to his spiel before leveling the wolf mask at him.

 "No," they repeated carefully, reaching within the fold of their kimono and drawing an article out. From their lack of words, Karga was beginning to wonder if they could speak Basic. In the dim lighting of the cantina, punctuated periodically by the glare of lightning, a painted card flickered and cast refracting the ruby eyes set into the clay. Placing it gently, with the care a mother would caress her child, the Jakonan slid it across the table."My work is not cheap."

 Karga lifted it, tracing his dark fingers along the edges of the card and turning his thumbs over the garnet eyes that winked at him. Shand. Glancing back up, he gave the stranger another once over, the calling card of the Shand House impossible to mistake, the laughing fox sneering at hip in its frozen reverie. "Hm, perhaps we can work something out," he considered, passing the token back to the owner. "I'll need a name. I presume you will go by your house?"

 "No. Just Ronin," they tucked the card back into their robes. Turning around, Ronin started for the door again, undaunted by the torrential downpour.

 "Ronin!" Karga called after them, the figure pausing to glance back.

 "Call me when you have a job."

 Karga's brows furrowed, but when he looked back down, he noticed a chip had been left on the table with the number for a comlink. He snorted, amused by the sleight of hand despite how lethargically Ronin moved, each flutter of the heavy sleeves intentional, but... those sleeves had covered their hand and Karga hadn't noticed what transpired beneath the fold of crimson. Turning the chip over, he heard the door hiss open, rain drumming rapidly, before Ronin stepped back out into the storm and disappeared.

On the comlink, a swirling cloud like the eyebrows of the mask Ronin had wore.

"Let me go for you, father!"

 Cherry blossoms swayed, pale petals fluttering from the boughs in a shower of floral snow. At the base of the tree, a man sat with the molted obsidian blade of his family displayed on his lap. A polishing cloth lathed the edges, bringing out the molted crackles of white inlaid within the steel. He did not glance up, did not acknowledge the girl in front of him, kneeling in the grass and pressing her brow dutifully at the toes of his sandals. Instead, he gazed past her toward the smooth reflective surface of the neighboring pond. Petals danced along the surface, sending minute ripples and shattering the perfect blue sky.

 "It is not up for debate, Asa," he answered calmly, breath like the smooth wind that tossed the flower petals now, and like the name of his daughter - the morning wind; Asakaze.

 Lifting her head, nebulous black eyes implored him, respectful but desperate. "I am ready. It is in my blood, just as it is in the blood of every Shand."

 She was still little more than a girl playing at war. The Empire cared not for their ways, nor the details in their lives. All the poetry and song would be replaced with a field of white, blackened visors, and a bucket that did not sing their heritage. He did not wish for his daughter to lose her lineage so young, but the Empire would not leave until Jakon had given them the resources they desperately desired: bodies.

 "Then it will be your blood used to paint the Empire's victory," he replied thinly, imagining her amber skin as pale as the cursed plastoid, her silken hair matted with dirt and residue, and her delicate palms, that played the shakuhachi so dexterously, broken. "What honor will you bring to our family from behind a mask that is not our own?"

 Asa's lip quivered, but to her own credit, the girl did not balk. Instead, her fingers tightened into fists, curling into the grass which was ripped up in her quiet wrath. "You will die. I am young. I can survive."

 "I am old, Asa. You have your entire life ahead of you," he sighed, lowering his katana onto his lap and bringing his hand forward to caress his daughter's hair back. "And you are gifted. The God-beasts chose you, as they have chosen many Shands before. Your Chi will not go unnoticed amongst them and they will wish to wield it for their own demonic purposes. Purposes the Gods would not wish. I must go."

 "If... she was here, would you have sent her?" Asa did not look up, instead continuing to pick at the fragments of grass.

 "No, my decision would still be the same," he assured her, bringing his fingers to tilt his daughter's chin up so that she could gaze into his eyes. Reflected in his dark pools, there was no fear, but a strange astonishing peace and resignment to his fate. He wondered if Asa would have been here had the Order not fallen or if the allies of Jakon would have taken her at birth as they had so many before. "Your Chi will guide you, as it always has. Trust here-" he brushed her kimono over her heart. "Now," sliding his palm underneath the blade of his katana, the other balancing along the hilt, he lifted it. "Amagumo."

 Asa froze, her eyes tracing over the blade that appeared to be marred by strikes of lightning, her father's head bowing as it was offered to her. Amagumo, the sword of the Shand House, the raincloud to the laughing fox. Passed down for centuries, erring on over a thousand years from whence it was forged. Trembling, she reached forward, her head bowing as tears collected in the corners of her eyes. Only the head of the Shand House wore Amagumo and by passing the sword to her, he passed the title as liege.

 "May the Bushido guide you in all things you do. The way of the warrior is a path we all walk, regardless of our upbringing, regardless of our luck, and regardless of our gender," he recited, passing the polished katana to her. Meeting her flesh, her skin crawled as the song of the sword hitched to a high, her Chi humming with the knowledge that Amagumo had been a dutiful partner for so many Shands before her; warriors, lovers, poets, and Jedaii. While the blade was not of kyber or light, the primordial power remained and had not faltered. There had been a time where Jedaii - before the Jedi - used such blades when lightsabers had yet to be developed. Their alliance with Jakon did not fade, even if the use for Tamahagane did. Now they were gone.

 "I will protect our culture, our way, and our life with the strength of my body and this sword," Asa promised, staring into her warbled reflection in the steel. Sitting in the peace of the zen garden, she savored the last moments she had with her father before he marched to his final battle, never to return. However, just as the cherry blossoms bloom, scatter, a new year will bring about the same change.

 But as Asa stood in the place where her father once sat, Amagumo dripped crimson, splattered against the verdant grass she'd once torn up. The blue sky was polluted with the haze of demonic black smoke, screams echoing in the distance like sharp punctuation of chimes, the throbbing of the war march cascading over the din. Laid before her, snow-white armor painted with blood, but not her own as her father had once worried. Frozen by the strife that had engulfed Jakon, a single tear slid down her face as she left the cherry blossom behind and started through the massacred hallways of her home.

 No longer was there a house to govern. If there was, Asakaze would not take part in picking up the fragments of a broken clan, half of which had turned their blades in her direction for not forfeiting to the Empire when requested to send another thousand Jakonans to their losing war. Asa refused. Watching the unbidden tears of her people as they wept, begging for the God-beasts to hear their pleas as their population dwindled - a continuous pulse for the Empire until now. Now, she'd severed the artery after six years of this hell. Now, she paid the price in full, splattering the blood that would have fallen eventually. At least, it had been on their own soil.

 Would it have been different if she was here? No, deep within the humming of her Chi, she knew that this outcome would have rose to meet them with the tide. For so long, Jakon had escaped scrutiny and survived the ever tilting scales of balance between Light and Dark. But Jakon was not lost, only those who had refused the Empire's ravenous appetite, even deeper and more harrowing than that of a starved rancor. It was time to go.

[concretemoldsforproduction]

How To Build Concrete Mold For Projects

We have set the industry standard for years and every member of our team is committed to supplying a superior product https://columbiamachine.com/concrete-molds/. Easy to cut yet sturdy enough to hold concrete in a rectangular form as it cures, an empty milk carton offers huge potential as a concrete mold.

Betonnen Looppad Pad Maker

Look how naturally the shape lends itself to a modern desk lamp. To achieve this low-cost luminary all it takes is nesting another commonly upcycled item—a plastic bottle—inside the carton, then pouring Quikrete 5000 into the space between the bottle and carton. A power drill and your own two hands can take it from there.

Learn the benefits of using different mold types to help you choose the best one for your project. AeroMarine Products has several great products for making concrete molds and stamps from. Here we have gathered pins for ideas and inspiration for what to do with concrete and AeroMarine Concrete Molding & Stamping Rubber. The great advantage of rubber molds is their flexibility. Rubber molds can easily release from intricate details, even undercuts.

Therefore, the casting techniques have to be considered as relevant in an integral part of a concrete element. Our molds/forms are designed to pour with no air, no hydraulics, no hammering, and no special tools. Our molds/forms have a fall-away inner core with the simplest breakdown. We have on site, our plant owned shear and brake for customizing to your exact needs.

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Or maybe your looking at starting up a business, we carry a large enough selection of reusable soap, plaster and concrete molds to get you started. We offer a variety of professional concrete casting molds with a highly detailed rustic wood look that will make your furnishings appear just like the real thing, only more sturdy and long lasting. All our molds are designed with you the customer in mind to help you improve your patio and garden area. Please be sure to check our recipes page for some helpful ideas to try in our concrete molds. Once full and satisfied with the top finish , then you only leave the mold on for about 5 minutes. If you leave it too long, the mold begins to stick to the concrete.

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Сoncrete molds

Picked it up at Lowe's but HomeDepot and other places sell them too. Just mix up the crete per directions that usually come with it put in into the mold, smooth it out, wait a minute or two and lift off and do your next one. I'm enlarging my back patio by going around the existing 10 X 16 pad with this. I plan to stain all with brush on concrete stain when I'm finished. I can only do a little at a time as I have a bad back and have to limit myself on this kind of work.

Unlike other precast systems on the market that leave one side non-textured, the designs from Walttools are meant to be viewed on all sides and are fully detailed on all visible planes. The initial models replicate stacked brick, natural slate, re-purposed barnwood, and flagstone.

All of our high quality, platinum-cured silicone molds are hand made in our building and ship direct to clients world-wide. Why is my mold cut along the side9 ----Sometimes, it is necessary to cut along the side of the mold for demolding purpose. Our hardworking concrete molds set the standard in the industry by producing perfect products for countless cycles. Concrete molds add a new dimension, quite literally, to your concrete products lineup. They expand your capabilities by allowing you to offer products that look and perform beautifully and can be used for many different purposes.

Some customers will fax or email us drawings and pictures to get quotes on custom concrete molds. Our precast concrete mold line includes everything from burial vault forms to water basin molds also called catch basin forms. We have standard Precast Concrete forms and we also customize our concrete molds to your specs. Of course we make many more varieties of form/molds, just click on molds/forms above to navigate to them. As described in the Mixing and Pouring Lesson, mix the concrete until a good water to cement ratio is achieved, then scoop a small amount of the aggregate-free concrete mix into the molds.

We were at an advantage in that we have a small electric concrete mixer but mixing the 'crete in a wheelbarrow wouldn't be that difficult. Walttools has four new urethane pre-cast molds that each provide exceptionally detailed concrete bench creations. The initial four models being released cover a variety of styles and sizes to fit almost any landscape environment.

We believe that honesty & integrity is still the most important part of any business. We will do our best to be up front and honest with you. If you see any part of our business that needs to be changed to better serve you, then we would appreciate hearing from you.

Texas Tradition Molds tries to keep molds in stock year round. Texas Tradition Molds, also offers a instock page.

Once the concrete's dry, drill holes in the sides of the lamp, then wire in a bulb to create a subtle light source to brighten up any dark corner of the home. Through decades of research and development, Polytek is able to offer one of the most comprehensive selections of flexible mold materials for concrete casting applications. History Stones concrete baluster mold is injection molded of ABS plastic for superior strength. Two halves bolt together for easy casting and removal . Often, the silicone concrete molds are listed as resin molds, so if you are doing a Google or Amazon search to find one, you may get more results by searching for “resin” molds.

Rockmolds Liquid Release 1 Gallon

Before pouring your concrete mix into the molds it's a good idea to use a release agent, this will make removing the concrete from the mold after it has cured very easy. we'll have to take that into account before starting a mix. Even pea gravel aggregate can be much too large for small molds, so consider what you are casting into to determine if you need or want to remove aggregate. Polyester auto body filler (Bondo® for example) is a great material for creating fillets, building up shapes, smoothing curves, tool marks or for general sculpting. It can be used alone, with plastics, fiberglass and other mold materials.

Concrete is, and will remain, an elemental construction element; and even as its materiality remains consistent over time, its limits are far from being fully explored. History has demonstrated that concrete construction is mainly determined by the mold used and not in the material itself.

It sands easily when mixed properly and allowed to cure. Capitalize on quality precast products for all of your building component molds. Norwalk Precast Molds specializes in utility vaults that feature straight inner walls by incorporating our hydraulic collapsing core option. If your application requires 50 foot column molds, 20 foot T-wall molds or thousands of linear feet of duct bank or trench drain molds, Norwalk Precast Molds has a unique solution for your project.

Looking forward to trying some different projects with the same technique. Manufacturer of plastic, concrete and patio stone molds. Applications include artistic, garden, letters and numbers, masonry and building, pavers, stepping stones, steps, retarder papers, retaining walls, and vibrating tables. Our artistic department and production line technicians have more than a decade of experience in offering high quality products to our clients.

The wood and flagstone models can even be mixed-and-matched with their tops and bases. Hi Barb, just wanted to extend my thanks for the excellent tutorial. I’d been wanting to try making concrete doll head planters but was scared off by the expense and technical processes involved in silicone mold making. This method worked great for me and I’m now at 12 planters and counting.

Many of our forms have no particular size like shrub planter boxes. Just give us your size and we will quote you by phone, email, fax, or US mail.

When you remove the mold you can kind of smooth off any rough edges with your hands or a wooden stick. Grandma, we just finished (last night!) a patio made with the quikrete form that looks like stones.

[solivar]

One Bullet

Written for the @mcbigbangzo Halloween Monster Mash.

Aka the one where Jesse McCree is a mercenary hexenjaeger for hire, Hanzo Shimada is a concerned big brother trying to rescue his idiot kid brother from the cult he ran off to join with his latest crush, and there are way more vampires than at least one of them expected.

When Jesse regained consciousness, it was dark. Not the relatively normal and reasonably comforting darkness that came from the lights being off and the sun being down, before the rise of the moon or the street lights coming on. No, this was a different grade of dark entirely, rich and dense, so thick he could nearly taste it, could almost draw it into his lungs with each breath, could absolutely not pierce it even though he knew his eyes were open, no matter how long he gave them to adjust, even with the acuity of senses the blood running in his veins granted him. Which meant, pragmatically, that the coven had stashed him somewhere that no natural form of light penetrated -- someplace with no windows, potentially someplace deep underground. That made them smarter than the last two covens he’d extirpated put together, which was a pain in the ass he absolutely did not need right now.

Predictably, his weapons were gone. That was pretty much the inevitable consequence of being captured -- in the back of his mind, he could hear the lecture Reyes would have unloaded, without mercy and with both barrels -- and he had never once escaped it, even when the vampires involved were as dumb as a box of hammers. Less predictably: they’d taken his boots and coat. Sometimes even the smart ones, the ones whose maker had a brain and let his spawn keep a fair share of theirs, would overlook those, so he was inclined to give at least a little credit for that. Not so smart: they’d left his arm. Of course, how to uncouple it wasn’t so obvious and if they had orders to keep him alive, just ripping it off at the shoulder, or the junction, would not accomplish that task.

His ribs ached, but not in a way that suggested any of them were broken, even when he took a deep breath. His head throbbed, but not in a way that suggested a concussion, particularly since the contents of his stomach weren’t also trying to escape. Gentle treatment by vampire standards, and for a demonstrably dangerous prisoner, at that. He wasn’t bound, just dropped and propped against the wall, which was rough, only dubiously dressed stone, dry. The floor under his legs and butt and hands felt uneven, grainy -- hard-packed dirt over stone, dry. The air likewise, dry and warm, which argued against far underground. He carefully went about testing the soundness of the rest of his limbs, found a profusion of minor aches and tender spots where bruises were likely to be found later and worked himself to his feet, carefully, slowly stretching himself out to his full height. Thankfully, he didn’t encounter a low-hanging ceiling, which told him that he at least wasn’t in a repurposed mineshaft, for which he was at least moderately grateful.

Moving slowly, keeping one hand to the wall, he started making a circuit, looking for an angle, the join of two walls, and found none. The room, cell, whatever it was, was circular, almost perfectly so. That offered a few suggestions all by itself. Before he could go about investigating them, a sound reached his ears: voices, footsteps, echoing off stone, growing gradually closer.

And me with nowhere to hide. The thought crawled through the back of his mind as he sank back down where he was, knowing it wasn’t the same spot, seeing no way to even pretend otherwise. Not that I’d know if there were.

The quality of sound from -- above? Yes, definitely from above -- changed, from steps on stone to steps on wood, thin trails of dust and dirt and grit filtering down to tickle his nose, and he just barely suppressed a sneeze. Something huge and godawful heavy being dragged across an unfinished wooden surface, close by overhead, the boards shifting and groaning under the weight. The sound of metal grinding against metal -- chains and locks he thought -- and a perfectly square portion of the ceiling lifted up and shifted sideways, admitting a wan shaft of light that made his eyes ache and water after the perfect and unrelieved darkness, the best pain he’d felt all day.

Then, just to ruin it all, a green-haired head poked through the aperture thus created, bloody crimson eyes gleaming in the half-light, and offered him an almost inhumanly wide grin containing far too many sharp teeth. “Oh, good! You’re awake.”

Genji Shimada, he was forced to admit, made a pretty good vampire. He was lean and wiry in a way that made his strength surprising even if his speed was to be expected, which gave him an edge in a close-quarters fight, enough of one to disarm and drop an experienced hexenjaeger. Inasmuch as the one who’d turned him had let him keep both his mind and his personality, he even seemed to be enjoying it, the curse taking what had always lain inside him -- immaturity, self-absorption, a vast capacity for thoughtless cruelty -- and turning the dial up to eleven on all his pre-existing flaws. He crawled across the ceiling -- the rough ceiling of stripped tree boles, fit solidly together through straps and cross-supports -- fingers and toes unnaturally long, each digit tipped in a wicked talon and as he hung there, someone handed him a lantern. A solar powered lantern, which he supposed was what passed for irony among the undead, and he caught it as Genji lobbed it at his head.

“Good catch. Reflexes aren’t suffering too badly, I hope? You took quite a blow to the skull.” Genji stretched himself out, feet planted on the ceiling, talons bit deep, hanging cheekily up-side-down an arm’s length away, and Jesse easily resisted the obvious invitation to grievous bodily harm. “Awww. Not going to talk?”

“Not t’you. I don’t chat with lackeys.” Jesse set the lantern aside and thumbed it down to its lowest yield, to conserve the charge.

Genji’s eyes flashed and his expression contorted, inhuman with rage and affront, but he also resisted the temptation to do more, smoothing his blood-hungry beast face back away. “Fine. Fine. You’ll scream for me soon enough.” A fangy grin that would have been charming if not for the hate in his eyes. “My master wants you to know that he admires you -- truly admires both you personally and the Order of the Hexenjagd. In the face of a changing world, you have stood fast, athwart the tides of history, to remain dedicated pains in the ass even unto your own destruction. He appreciates that sort of...righteousness. And so, he offers you this gift, as a token of his esteem.”

The light slanting down from above dimmed again as something obstructed its passage -- something long and limp, wrapped in a sheet stained with rusty brown spatters, one pale arm dangling out the side, streaked with the same. Whoever was holding it dropped it without ceremony and it fell, landed bonelessly and lay unmoving, as Genji scurried back across the ceiling and out the exit. His unnaturally long-fingered hand came back through, Peacekeeper dangling by the trigger guard on the tip of one talon, and he dropped that down, as well. Jesse waited until the section of ceiling had been set back in place, and whatever they were using to hold it down dragged over top, before he approached. Peacekeeper was undamaged when he checked it and cracked open the cylinder to find one round only still loaded. Dread made a cold knot in his belly as he folded back the bloodstained sheet.

Hanzo Shimada lay deep in the grip of the change -- the curse coursing through veins drained almost dry, punctures lining both arms to the elbow, his throat and muscular thighs. Somebody had bitten his tongue. And no ordinary curse at that: the hungry darkness battened on the guttering light of Hanzo’s life pulsed in his vision, cancerous with malice.

“Oh, darlin’.” Jesse whispered and gathered his cooling body close, wrapped the sheet around him for what little warmth it could help offer. “Oh, Hanzo. I’m so sorry.”

Hanzo stirred, shivered uncontrollably, a tiny sound of pain escaped his throat. His eyes, when they opened, were still golden, feverishly bright, tinged in crimson. When he spoke, his voice was a bare whisper, thin with exhaustion. “Jesse.”

“I’m here, darlin’. Save your strength.” He pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s brow, cool and damp with pain-sweat. “I’m callin’ for help.”

They hadn’t taken his arm, which was a mistake. He opened the access panels one-handed, Hanzo cradled in the crook of it, and assembled the transponder beacon, the pulse communication transmitter, started cycling them both to full power. It’d drain his arm’s internal power cells to the dregs, but the rest of the hunting pack would find them, and hopefully the vampire nest along with them.

“Genji.” Hanzo whispered. “It’s...too late for him, isn’t it?” A soft, ragged breath. “It’s too late for me.”

“For him, yes.” The transponder beacon reached charge and he triggered it. “He’s given himself to the curse, of his own free will. And don’t you dare blame yourself for that, because it ain’t your fault.”

“It is. I drove him away. I practically threw him into their arms. If I had just --” Jesse bent and stilled his lips and self-castigation with a kiss, lent him a bit more warmth, tasted the blood on his tongue and the hunger starting to take root in him.

“You’re not responsible for your dumbass brother’s dumbass decisions.” Jesse whispered fiercely. “He’s a grown man and he’s made his choice.” The communications array sang its little rising-falling ready tone, and he activated it. “McCree transmitting from unknown location, possibly a cliff-dwelling, definitely a sealed kiva under natural cover inside stone. I have a friendly down -- I need a cursebreaker here pronto, and as much firepower as you can scrounge together. Make it double-quick. End transmission.”

He clicked it off as quickly as he could to preserve the power cells for the beacon, propping his arm up as best he could on the same knee, holding Hanzo close against his chest. Hanzo was silent, either taking his advice or too weary to argue further, icy fingers wrapped in his shirt. Jesse counted every slowing breath, every stuttering, failing heartbeat, refused to watch the curse as it ate his lover’s life, fought for calm, poignantly aware of Peacekeeper at his side, one bullet in the cylinder.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hanzo murmured after a few minutes, a few hours, a short and agonizing eternity. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

No, darlin’, you’re not dyin’. You’re already dead, your soul just doesn’t know it yet. But there was no comfort in that truth and so he kept it locked in his own heart. “No. Not if the cursebreaker gets here. There’s still time.”

Hanzo was silent for a moment. Then, “Liar.”

“Darlin’...” He had to stop, discipline his voice steady. “Hanzo. I --”

“I do not want to be one of those heartless, soulless things.” Hanzo’s nails, already sharper than they’d been before but not quite yet claws, dug into his chest. “Promise me you will not let that happen.”

“Hanzo --”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I won’t let it come to that.” Peacekeeper’s grip, beneath his hand, was cold. “Just...hold on a little while longer. Can you do that for me?”

“I will try.” Hanzo rested his face against the curve of his neck and closed his eyes and Jesse pressed his cheek against the sleek length of his night-dark hair, the better to hide his tears.

[ficsmith-blog]

Bastard of Fate 2

AN/ Thank you all so much for the constructive reveiws! (all three of you) I redid chapter one just a little bit, tried to fix some errors. CHAPTER 2 ***CHANDLER** Chandler walked to the back of the shop where he kept paints and some magical supplies for embellishing armor and weapons. He was deep in thought, mostly about the prince with golden locks and bright blue eyes. He shook his head, grabbing the paints and shining solution and striding back to where Alexandre was waiting beside the table with his armor on it. They were almost done with his armor, having gotten most of the dents and scratches out. Now he just needed to shine it and paint the royal crest on the breastplate. "I'll just trace where the old paint was, even though it's faded by now," He told Alexandre. "Alright. So, I've been wondering. You seem rather young to run a blacksmith's shop alone and be so successful already" "Actually it's mostly Aaron, the blacksmith that lives upstairs. He's old and sick by now but I owe my life to him. He found me on the streets when I was about four and took me in. He needed an heir since he has no children of his own" "Oh wow. You're an orphan then?" "As far as I know. I live in the rafters pretty much," he pointed up into the corner where some planks were nailed together up near the roof. A ladder lead up to it and you could see an unmade bed and a chest from the floor. "Okay. Well I think the armor is good for now. Thank you, what can I pay you?" "Oh don't worry about it, sir. Aiding the prince is payment enough" "Nonsense," Alexandre scoffed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, pressing it into Chandler's palm. Their fingers touched for a moment too long before Chandler stuttered, "T-thank you, Alexandre". He had never owned a gold piece before and when he managed to tear his eyes away from the prince he gazed down at the shiny coin. "Good day, Chandler" "See you, Alexandre". Chandler tried to ignore the small pang of dissapointment as the prince strode out the door, leaving a very confused and very starstruck blacksmith behind him. ***TIME SKIP*** It was two weeks before Chandler saw Alexandre again. Chandler was working on a new style of sword, bringing down the hammer onto it to straighten out the metal when he heard the door to the shop open behind him. He turned, surprised to see the prince who's cheerful face and lean frame had haunted his thoughts and dreams since their last meeting, "Your majesty!" he said, "What brings you back here so soon? Where's Bart?" "I gave him a break today. He is a loyal servant and deserves a rest" "What can I help you with then?" "I am in need of a new sword. You do more than fix armor, correct?" "'Course. If you'll let me take some measurements I can get started right away. You gonna stay while I work?" "I have no other buisness" "Good," Chandler said, a bit to his own surprise. "So, I've told you a bit about myself. What's something I should know about you?" Alexandre asked. "Well, there's not much to tell. Never knew my folks, don't even have a crest and all I know of my heritage is my last name. Michason" "I'm sorry," Alexandre said, looking apologetic. Chandler shrugged, "It's fine. I have Aaron and he's father enough for me. Now, what style of sword would you like?" Hours passed as they talked of nothing and everything. The subject moved to Alexandre's family as Chandler was folding the metal of the sword, "I have a sister and a brother, Lily and Jack, though I'm sure you knew that. The royal family's secrets are never kept for long. Lily is six and Jack is ten, both of them adorable as anything you've ever seen" "That's nice. They part elf and dwarf too?" "More elf than anything. They're adopted" "Oh okay. What's yoour father like? He seems like a good man from what I've heard. Lowering taxes on the poor and providing jobs for the jobless" "Yes, he's a very good king. Now I just have to live up to his standard," Alexandre sighed a little, "He wants me to marry King Dyer's daughter and unite the two human kingdoms. He wants me to create better relations with the elves and dwarves and he wants me to stay as far away from dragons as I can. Wretched creatures" "Hell yeah. What about the nymphs around the Tree of Life?", Chandler asked with a small smile. "They're too weird. I'll just leave them alone for now," Alexandre laughed. "Heh, yeah. I dated one once. Her name was Holly, she was visiting from the Tree of Life Lake. Strange things, those nymphs. She was very... talkative. And clingy. Couldn't do it for long but she left anyways" Chandler saw an unknown emotion flicker in Alexandre's eyes at the mention of his old fling. He decided to push a little further to try and figue out what that emotion was, "What about you? Any love life for the prince?" "Oh, me? No, not really. Father wants me to 'save' myself for King Dyer's daughter. I've never even met the girl, for all I know she could be thirty-something and have a horrid personality" Chandler smiled a shrugged, just finishing placing the pommel on the sword. "Anything else you want on it? Maybe a few jewels or magical runesd or sigils?" "No jewels, please. I don't like all that fancy crap on me. What magical rune of sigil would you suggest? And who do you get the magic from? I thought the humans gods, Xymon and Sylvia didn't grant magic?" "I'm actually not sure. I send out prayers and someone answers them. I've always had an affinity for magic though. Sigils are my favorite, as well as offensive spells. Not that I need them all that much" "Alright. So long as you're not getting it from Jargon, right?," Alexandre chuckled. "Heh, yeah. Slithery lizardy bastard," Chandler laughed. Jargon was the god of the dragons and the source of the most powerful dark magic. The elven goddess was a close second. With her magical gifts of light and healing, Elvira was often the first goddess a newcomer to magic went to. Helmfield, the dwarven god, was often just ill-tempered and didn't do much for magic users. Xymon and Sylvia stayed out of magic altogether, believing that people must learn to help themselves with their natural gifts. Even though Chandler wasn't completly convinced that he wasn't getting his magic from Jargon, he allowed himself to laugh with Alexandre beforer gabbing a carving knife from his rack of tools. He had to work quickly before the metal cooled too much, "So what? You want a phrase or single word?" "A single word should work" "A rune, then. Protection? Offense? Defense? Speed? Strength? Rage?" "Protection, please" Chandler nodded and carefully carved the swirls and soft edges of the rune into the metal of the sword near the hilt. Once he was done he set aside the knife and hovered his hands over the rune. He closed his eyes and focused, asking whatever god that was listening to infuse the sword with power. "Great gods of Atishman and Ered Lithui... protect this prince... help him to know the path that he must take, help him to avoid danger and help him to defeat all enemies who cross his path... keep him from harm... please...," he murmered quietly. When he finished he felt as though someone had sucked all of the air and energy out of him in one great whoosh. Chandler's shoulders slumped but he gave Alexandre a pleased smile, "There you go, my prince" "Wow... you're good at that. You seemed so focused and devoted. How long have you been practicing?" "Since I can remember" "What did you say?" Chandler gave a small smile, "That, my prince, is a secret" "Oh come on," Alexandre said with a small pout. He leaned in just slightly towards Chandler, "You can tell me, my blacksmith. I am royalty after all. You wouldn't disobey a prince" Chandler swallowed heavily, nervously shifting on his feet, "O-of course not, sir," he said as a blush tinted his cheeks. "Then spit it out," Alexandre now had a grin on his face as he leaned in so far that they almost touched. Chandler almost had a heart attack. "I-I just asked the gods to protect you. What would we do without our prince?," he tried a smile. "Hmm. Alright," Alexandre said before leaning back again, still grinning. Chandler breathed out a sigh and forced himself to relax. "Well, I had better be on my way. Perhaps I'll see you again?," Alexandre fished out yet another gold coin and tossed it to Chandler, who fumbled before catching it, eyes wide. "That would be nice. See you later then" As the prince gathered his new sword he gave Chandler one last smile, showing off his perfect teeth before he headed out of the blacksmith shop. Chandler forced his eyes away from the prince as he left.

[accordingtonics]

To all my ladies – listen up.

I’ve been struggling putting into words what I’ve been feeling lately, so I’m going to throw it right out there. After careful consideration, I’ve decided that we women are failing each other. That’s right ladies, I said listen up.

Let me explain.  

Yes, there are millions of women around the world who do a wonderful job of motivating the female kind and for those boss-ladies, I’m eternally grateful. Your mom is probably a woman who acts as a great source of support, guidance and after whom you’ve likely modeled much of your life. I’m sure you can provide me with a list of coworkers who inspire you on the daily with the way they kick ass in the boardroom and in life. Yes, your best friends are likely the ladies who encourage you to continue chasing your dreams despite the setbacks that leave you feeling like the only answer is to put on your yoga pants and drink a liter of wine to yourself. (Let’s be real, if she was your best friend she would toss on her best lulus, stick two straws in the bottle and chalk it up to emotional support. But maybe that’s just how my best friends roll.) I want to be clear – these aforementioned examples of female solidarity are not the scenarios against which I have a particularly sharp axe to grind.  

The bone I have to pick is with EVERYTHING else.  

I’m talking about the countless moments in our daily lives when we have the opportunity to leave a positive mark on the life of another woman and we miss it. Instead we’re caught up in a tornado of our own making - mentally comparing ourselves to one another, feeding into a false sense a competition, and judging every life, career, wardrobe and makeup decision made. Leaning too quickly towards criticism instead of towards love, encouragement and acceptance.

Older and wiser so the saying goes. I turned 30 this year. I’m not sure whether it’s cliché to say that I’ve had some life changing revelations in the past few months, or whether it’s fitting that after years of searching for something I feel as though my vision is clearer. Either way, my eyes, my mind, my heart and most notably my mouth are wide open. All of which I have no intention of shutting anytime soon. This moment of enlightenment did not occur on a remote hillside somewhere while I sat on my yoga mat basking in the warm afternoon sun and peacefully coming to the conclusion that the female kind was in need of a gentle helping hand. Not even close. The moment my perspective shifted was alternatively filled with an all-consuming fiery rage.

Let me paint the picture for you.

I recently attended a social engagement at which I felt the strong urge to result to physical violence. It started off as any “word that rhymes with hour” would – a group of well dressed women, lively chatter filling the room, perfectly concocted signature drinks being held in one hand while ladies used the other to point out certain cute, funny, and adorable photos of the guest of honour and then take a stab in the dark at how old she was in the each of the snap shots. I’m a seasoned professional at these shindigs; I play the games, I eat the cookies, I listen to the speeches and for the most part I enjoy taking the time to celebrate what is an important milestone in the lives of my closest friends. I was happy to be a part of this moment, to see my friend surrounded by her loved ones, looking forward to what the future held for her life and most importantly being able to see how truly happy she was. Overall, it was a lovely afternoon. That was until the “word that rhymes with hour” took a drastic turn for me.

Amongst the chatter a woman seated across the table from me leaned over, and in what I can only assume was an attempt to get to know me better, decided to open her line of questioning with, “So are you married as well?”  Now to be fair, I was sitting among a group of married or engaged women (which is my reality 99.9% of the time), so I can understand why one may ask that particular question. Being one of the only remaining single girls in my group of friends, trust me when I say that I’m extremely familiar with this territory. So just as I have millions of times before, I let the married/relationship question quickly slide off my back.

So when does the rage filled hammer drop you wonder? We’re about to get there.

It wasn’t her opener that got me all hot under the collar, but her follow up question that flipped my switch from happily sipping on my cocktail to annoyed as fuck. Apologies - I should have started this piece with a warning that explicit language would likely be heavily used throughout my commentary. For all those with an aversion to swearing, I suggest you step away from the screen.

Needless to say, I answered the nice lady’s question by explaining to her that no, I was in fact single and not married. What happened next can only be described as the atomic bomb of responses; it was merciless and destroyed everything in its path in a matter of mere seconds. After hearing of my singleness, the woman tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, crinkled up her nose a wee bit, shot me a “poor single girl” smile and said, “Ohhhhhhh, well that’s okay too.”

She side head tilted me into a heaping pile of single shame.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

What followed were the toughest 30 seconds of my life, because instead of flashing her a fake smile and responding with, “Thanks, it’s been working out pretty well for me so far,” what I really wanted to do was jump across the table and throat punch her.

As the afternoon continued and I replayed the incident that will from this moment forward be referred to as the side head tilt heard round the world, my rage grew. Here I was, an intelligent, strong, creative and successful woman who has built a life for myself that I’m rather proud of and the only piece of intel that this lady was interested in was my marital status.  

She didn’t ask me if I lived in the city, whether I had travelled anywhere recently, if I had any hobbies, and God forbid she even think about asking me what I did for a living. All she wanted to know was whether she could place me into a tiny box labeled “figured out” that society dictates women of a certain age are supposed to be in. Married, with a house and 2.5 children.

Now, I understand that this is my story and it’s told through the unmistakable lens of a young single woman, but the fact is that EVERY woman has their own struggles, their own daily battles and their own set of circumstances that can sometimes feel overwhelming. No one is perfect. The lenses might be different, but with some effort we can make an attempt to TRY and see through them a little more clearly. How do we do that? I believe it begins with empathy.

Recognizing, appreciating and celebrating one another from exactly where we are.  

While I’m a single woman, my world is filled with couples and babies and families. It would be the understatement of the century to say that my friends who are married with children amaze me. These are women who work, who make time for their friends, who hit the gym everyday, who accomplish the millions of items on their to-do lists, all the while taking care of and shaping the lives of tiny little humans. While I can’t personally understand the amount of energy, dedication, and sheer will that it takes for them to do what they do on a daily basis, what I can do is empathize.

Empathy is key.

Empathize with the young girl who decides to wear only a sports bra to the gym instead of a shirt. What we might be quick to judge as a shallow attempt to garner attention from the opposite sex, could simply be a young girl living out the image what of society has told her a woman should look like in order to be viewed as attractive. She might just be in need of a better role model. That role model could be you.

Empathize with the single girl who is constantly bombarded with questions about her relationship status. What you might perceive as a polite answer to a harmless question, is really an attempt to hide her rage, because in her mind you’ve insinuated that her accomplishments to date are not valid unless accompanied by a man. She might just be in need of someone to tell her “fuck what society thinks and keep being your badass self.” That someone could be you.

Empathize with the mother who spends all day taking care of and reasoning with tiny humans who have the capability of exploding into outbursts of epic proportions simply because you gave them the wrong colour sippy cup. What you might view as a daily life that is filled with cute baby smiles and adorable outfits that never get dirty, most definitely also includes moments of frustration and utter exhaustion. She might just need someone to let her vent OR even better, to watch her children for an hour while she takes a minute for herself. That babysitter could be you.

Whatever the case may be, I beg of you ladies, let’s save the judgment, the analysis and the scrutiny for someone else and instead celebrate each other. For as far as we have come, these are still not easy times for women. We have glass ceilings, pressures to conform to unrealistic body image standards, and wage gaps to deal with; not to mention leaders of the free world thinking it’s okay to run around grabbing us by our lady parts. Need I say more? Women have serious issues to battle against in modern society, “other women” should not be an action item on that list.

I don’t have all of the answers, but I know that we need to start somewhere. Take the time to inspire the women around you. Help to build their self-confidence instead of tearing them down to boost your own. Whether it’s surviving the day with a newborn child, making it through yet another stressful workday, or deciding not to settle for anything less than they deserve.

Recognize, appreciate and celebrate one another from exactly where we are.

Do it fiercely and without question, because only a woman knows what it’s like to walk in a woman’s shoes. I believe that I speak for more than just myself in saying that I for one would love to know that I have a tribe of sisters in my corner as I step out the front door each morning in my pursuit of taking over the world.

Empathy ladies, let’s try it on for size.

According to Nics…

[tdrcycle09]

Mini Challenge #2 - No Need To Adjust Your TV Sets...

This mini had our girls twisting and turning with their makeups, designing their best optical illusion makeups! Let’s see how they did!

Analyse Thropic

For this illusion makeup mini, I did a low-poly makeup look made of graphic triangles and quadrilaterals. The shapes are arranged and colored to mimic the placement of a standard drag beat, but the non-blended nature of these shapes gives the look a sort of computer-generated feel.

Lila: When you said you were doing a low poly look, I was so excited because it’s such a fun aesthetic. Now, I do like how you’ve set it out, it’s really intriguing and the effort into even the most minute areas, like how the hair and ears are covered. It’s just that your white line spacing is really putting it off the perfect-o mark for me. If you used a really, *really* thin brush the finesse your white spacing, it would honestly have made it look more low poly, because it’s coming across as mosaic rather than low poly. Good job with this, however! I hope you come back to this look in the future since it’s such an original idea.

Gluttoni:  Anal! This is a very cool optical illusion and I like your take on the facial anatomy. Can't say it's the most innovative of them all but I can tell you are listening and learning so I can really ask for more.

Letha:  I quite like the idea here, Analyse, its very “Your internet connection ain’t shit, so here’s some 144p playback”. The placement of the shapes, as well as the colors, make sense when deconstructing a face. Where you lose me is the white lines. They make everything too stark and disjointed, instead of just low-poly. I think had the shapes been connected while still holding their crisp lines, it might have been more effective. But good job, nonetheless!

Toni:I think this is a really interesting concept and I like that you went outside you comfort zone! Clearly you know your base paint because this style of paint requires you to know where everything goes. I would have loved to see thinner lines between the shapes to really drive home that it was all one image that was in low poly, as well as adding a few more triangles to add a bit more of the feel to it, but over all this is well done!

Antonina: Hey darling! I like what you’ve done here, it’s a great base for a future look. It just doesn’t feel like something finished. I think using this and adding more drag details, like more eye makeup, lashes and a fuller upper lip is something you should explore in the future, because it really is a good start. I’m not getting a super strong illusion from this, but I love the colors you have used and even tho the lines on your face could be sharper, I think they look good right now as well. You keep surprising me, keep it up!

Avana Noir

Hello Judges and TDR community.  For this Mini I was inspired by surrealism art. So i decided to paint myself with three faces. Since surrealism if very out of this world and very imaginative. I really wanted to push what i  can create with a makeup brush. This was kind of challegning but I think I did a great job. I was also inspired by the makeup used by the Japanese Geisha, hence the white face and uses of pinks. I hope you enjoy this look! Thank you!   

Lila: On paper, and in execution, this is a great optical illusion and I hope you indulge with it a little bit more since it sticks to your aesthetic really well. For what it is, however, I wish you could’ve blended the Ghost In The Shell-like real face a lot more to show that the face is beneath the illusion of a split. I’m getting a Kim Chi vibe from this and I really think you could use this makeup in your look again, just as a whole white face rather than the split, but if you were to do this again with the split, I would concentrate on detailing the looks to appear more consistent with your features, because its looking a little messy. Overall, I do enjoy this, good submission, Mom!

Gluttoni:  I was actually really surprised with your submission in the best way possible. This was ambitious and quite a cool illusion. I think this is probably the cleanest I've seen your makeup so honestly keep on this track.

Letha: This is a really fun idea, Avana, and the creativity really shows through with this concept. The illusion works if I don’t look too closely at it, but the details up close sort of spoil it. It would be more effective if your lines were crisper, and had more highlights/contours on the faces you added, as well as the perimeter of the middle face, to make them really pop. But still, good job!

Toni:Oh she had to show me she wore her nails, okay i see you! I really like this! I think it was a smart optical and for your first time atempting it I think it’s really well done. I do wish the lines were cleaned up more so it was clear that it was a clear split of the two faces and so that there arent just these huge black lines going down your face. I so think that you could have used a bit on the fine tuning of the fake faces. But over all this is a really cool look and something I think you should redo to go out in!

Antonina: You were one of my personal favorites this week! I’m getting Picasso meets Studio Ghibli from this. I don’t have a problem with the messy lines in this, because it’s supposed to be artsy. I got dizzy looking at your submission, and that’s a good thing when it comes to optical illusions, right? The line’s could be darker though, and the wig looks a little to plastic-y. A really dark line around the white face, and maybe a black wig would take me all the way to Spirited Away, but I still love this as it is. 

Daddie Dearest

Let me first apologize for the quality of this submission. I was on very constricted time this week, and I hope the judges know the quality of my work is better than this. Anyway, my favorite part of drag is the transformation, so I chose a look that displayed both sides of Daddie in an interesting way. The drag side was heavily inspired by my lovely boy-girlfriend, Ellie Dee. For the boy side, I wanted it to look like someone took a hammer, smashed my face, and removed the pieces. Thanks judges!

Lila: I think makeup is one of your strongest assets, and I love your beat a lot because it’s so creative already with the element of your beard. However, I know this mini challenge has thrown half of you off, but you could’ve taken the crack to the Nth degree here. It would’ve been fun to see some sort of skin peeling illusion or something like (this) where the paper would rip off. Although there is an illusion here, I wish it was a little bit more than it is. Nevertheless, good job!

Gluttoni:  Yo Dad, I'm just going to be honest and say I was expecting just a tad more from you. You are clear one of the more advanced makeup artist in the competition so a take on something you've done the previous week disappoints me slightly. I'm going to hold that against you because I respect you as an artist and this evidently still good work.

Letha: Daddie! The makeup is BEAT as always, and I love the contrasting tones/colors. That being said, if I haven’t seen this exact look from you, I feel like I’ve seen similar, and while it’s good, it’s not really pushing the creative envelope. I don’t get a big sense of an optical illusion, but still, there’s no denying your skills, so good job!

Toni: I know this week was really rough on you because you had to scrap your first idea and then quickly make something new out of nothing so I want to give you points for that because I know you were in a panic. I like this a lot, is it the most exciting thing out there? no but Its solid. I think you could have gone all the way and maybe blacked out some chips where it looks like pieces of your face had fallen off kinda like a cracked doll. Over all I think this is a good submission for your situation. 

Antonina: Hola papi! This is very pretty, it’s a cool submission, but it’s not the best match for the challenge. But you already know that. I think this was just another chance for you to keep practicing your makeup. You look great, but it was not one of my favorite looks I’ve seen from you so far. The gray part looks a little random and rushed. Maybe if the parts where your real skin tone was showing was white or at least a lot lighter it would give it more dimension. Keep on pushing papi, you got a lot of stuff to show us I can tell. 

Dotte Com

Behold the face of pixel perfection! It was difficult to mine my crafting skills when it came to this challenge, but that didn’t stop me one 8-bit! There’s more than just drawing squares, since your 3D shape has to appear 2D. It was one direction that I enjoyed playing with and I feel like I rose to this cyber-occasion.

Lila: I LOVE this, and I expect to see you continuing this type of experimentation. This was a huge risk and it is up there with one of the more creative choices of this mini challenge. Two things (because I’m nitpicky) that you could’ve enhanced our digital experience with, the pixels could be a lot smaller in some places, your nose contour is looking a lot wider than usual and it could’ve been shaped just to make it more narrow. And, instead of the wavy hair, you could’ve treat us to more of a squared off headpiece or wig, just to tie in that digital look you were trying to serve. This illusion was really exciting to wait for and you did such a great job with it, none the less!

Gluttoni:  Dotte! I am so proud of you for this one! You really took the theme and ran the fuck away with this. Not only that  you definitely tied it into your own persona to really seal the deal. It's a little rough around the edges but I think got good grasp on different hues and saturation that I wouldn't expect from you. Keep blazing a path like this for yourself and I think you may find yourself in the top way more often. Being tenacious will get you everywhere in life.

Letha: This is a really cool idea, Dotte, and totally fitting for your aesthetic. I’m not totally feeling the hair here, as something shorter or maybe with a blunt bang might have carried the whole “cybernetic technomatic” type vibe a little more. Overall, the pixels are in cool places and seem to mimic a face (as well as down the neck yas thank you for doing that), I would appreciate cleaner lines though, as it appears muddy in places. I love how you took this mini as an opportunity to both experiment with your makeup skills, as well as expressing who Dotte is, so Halleloo to that!

Toni: Dotte I was worried for you with this that it wasn’t going to be enough but I really love this. I think its fun and just enough of an illusion to really be interesting to look at. I love that you paid attention to the challenge and did everything from shoulders up because that was asked of you and not many of your sisters took that chance. I think if you were to do this again it would be nice to slow down and really make those lines hard and crisp, mostly around the eyes. I really loved that, good job this week!

Antonina: I think this is the  best I’ve seen you look! The colors are perfect for your face! Of course you shouldn’t do pixel makeup every week,but I think you could really use parts of this in your “normal” makeup. The dedication alone of painting your chest is great. I know hair isn’t part of this challenge, but a small comment on that anyway. I love this hairdo, I just want some more volume on top of your head. Great work this week. 

Ebony Boss

For week 2 I told myself I was gonna step it up majorly. I feel as if my cracked porcelain doll really did that. I wanted to do an illusion that is not the most well known for being an illusion. I think the look is one of my best and really does make me look like a cracked porcelain doll.

Lila: While I agree that this is the best you’ve looked in a while, this is a little safe for what we’ve received for the challenge. I do think you have stepped in terms of bringing us a stronger beat than you’ve done in the past, but I think it’d be much more impactful if you chiseled your contour to a fine point to try and create that porcelain perfection most dolls have. Try to bring in your contour on your nose a little bit more to make it seem more narrow. I wish the elements had a lot more, like adding really thin cracks in different shades, a brown perhaps, just to compliment the harsher cracks. Overall, this is a good submission this mini!

Gluttoni:  My dear Ebony, I am glad I got to see you start and finish this look because I can easily differentiate the growth for the before and after. You took my advice for cleaning up your line and might I say I think the overall illusion benefited from that greatly. You have a very stoic face which I think would be softened if you were a little more expressive. I want you to look as personable as you actually are. The concept of this look is good and extra points for making it a whole look but do you think this the most inventive idea you could achieve. Push yourself darling.

Letha: You really are improving with every mug you do, Ebony, and that is evident with this look. The cracks have believable shapes to them, especially on the forehead, and some shading/highlighting would sell them even more. The nose contour is a tad muddy and doesn’t really make your nose look thinner. The cheek contour could also be moved up a bit, as it is basically on your jaw. The contour color threw me for a second, but it does make sense with the story you’re telling, but it is a bit muddy/patchy in places (the forehead, for instance). I wish the lips had a more “dolly” shape to them, but the mouth lines are cute. I will say this for taking mug pics- find your lens and find an expression. A wide-eyed doll expression could have helped sell this look, but you look a tad over it, so keep that in mind for the future! Strong work!

Toni: I said this to you before but I’ll say it again, I think this is the best you’ve looked ever to me. I think that you should take what you did here and apply it to your normal makeup. I do wish the lines were a bit more clean and sharp, as well as maybe being a bit more, for lack of a better term, polished and flawless like most dolls are if that make sense. I think if you spent more times on your eyes as well to give us that doll eye shape would sell this more. Also girl, where is your lash going? what is she doing? over all I am really proud of you!

Antonina: Hey babe! Great step up, I don’t even recognize you besides that nose contour that still needs work! The look is very cute though. To really make it an illusion, I would have wanted you to make your skin look like porcelain. A lot of shimmering highlight might do the trick. I see doll, I just wanted MORE doll. Take it over the top, the concept is cute but needs more work to really fool us you’re a cracked doll. Keep on pushing doll face!

Judah Kiss

Hi judges! So we originally talked and this mini was going to be late due to personal circumstances around my new job, and I was very upset about it. Woke up this morning at 7am and couldn’t sleep; so I got right to work to submit something.

For this mini, i chose to attempt to recreate Bearonce Knowes’ negative face makeup, with the purpose of makeup turning my face into ‘camera negative’. With more time and more blending I think it would have come out better, but the idea is there, and I’m very happy to have submitted something on time.

Lila: I see a drive in you that is surrounded in a lot of passion for this competition, so I wouldn’t be so hard on myself! Now, Although there are elements that are slightly askew and rushed, I do like this. It’s a nice play on an optical illusion in the sense that it’s more of a inversion - bezold illusive where you’d have to manipulate the image to see it’s opposite contour-highlighting. I think you’ve said it best in your description that if you did have a little more time, you’d have been able to perfect this makeup job. Nevertheless, great job, I hope to see you come back to this idea and perfect it in the future because its a fun little makeup you’ve created!

Gluttoni: Judah, girl.... This is probably the opposite of what I expected from you. I know you have a keen eye for detail and this keep of makes me want to retract that idea I have of you. The idea itself it's definitely on par with the creative force that I know you to be but the execution leaves something to be desired. I think your proportions need to flesh out sometime during the competition.

Letha: This is such a cool look, Judah, and even though it is a replica of a look someone else did, it’s very creative.  I do agree that some more time on blending would have served you well, as well as having more time to make crisper lines. More work around the eyes, and perhaps some white lashes would also have been a really neat addition. I do think the bare neck reads as stark against the grayscale face and the dark shirt, so either painting it black or some sort of gray would have helped. All in all, strong work, Judah!

Toni: I’m glad you were able to get on in time and I see the clear influence. I do like this and think for your first attempt at it that it was done well but due to rushing there are issues with it that really shatter the illusion. I think if you had more time to slow down and focus on blending and making sure it was one flawless transition from dark to light then it would be a really amazing look! Good job!

Antonina: I didn’t need to read your explanation to understand your concept. It’s very obvious, and I like that. It’s a good thing that you have references and tries new things. I know your lines and blending is normally much more clean than this, so I hope stress won’t be your downfall in this competition. I see creativity and passion, so I hope you will have time to really perfect your next submission.I know you’ve got what it takes.

Klinker

I'm the Russian Window. The ruined country post war represented by Windows with their flag's color. 

Lila: I’m gonna be honest, I don’t see much of an optical illusion with this makeup. It’s more mondrian artsy fartsy than a head being taken off the body or an eye socket being pulled all the way down to the chin. With your makeup, try to set it so that it isn’t shiny with translucent powder, or even baby powder for that matter. I wish you gave this a little bit more dimension as well as the flat colours could’ve had that Phi Phi O’Hara look to them. Overall, its an alright submission.

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: Heya, Klinker! This look makes for a cool photograph, but I’m not really getting “optical illusion”. Part of optical illusion is tricking the eye to seeing something that isnt really there, and the best way to sort of “cheat” new shapes is to have either a totally matte surface, or to have shine in very specific areas. With this paint, the colors aren’t “set”, so your skin sort of shines and the illusion is betrayed by the real shapes that are there. I would suggest powdering to make it more believable, but good job, nonetheless! 

Toni: Well dear I can’t say im too excited about this submission because it seems instead of doing an optical illusion you decided to give us a bit more of an art movement, something very “some body that I use to know”. that aside im glad you went out of your comfort zone but for next time you do this make sure you set your makeup so you dont look so dewy and make sure to have very clean and very sharp lines like an actual mosaic would have.

Antonina: As art photographs, I think this is really cool. As submission for this challenge, not so much. I don’t know how to critique this really, because I like it for all the wrong reasons. The photos are strong and feels almost political for some reason? You are so unexpected, and I love that, but for the second time in a row I can’t really connect your submission to the challenge. Don’t waste this chance to grow, because I see a lot of good in you that I want to see more of. 

Lexi Lamour

Well would you believe this shit?! I woke up from a well deserved nap after results were posted Monday and when I went to roll over and get comfortable my body moved....but my head didn't!!! When I went to reach for my head I found that it was detached from my body! In a PANIC I picked it up and ran to the mirror only to find out that my fear was true! I came to get my phone only to find a message from that witch bitch, Analyse! She was NOT happy about coming 2nd in the main for week one and while still in her witchy look cast a spell on me to sever my head! Only thing is there are 2 things that worked in my favor. 1) She got the spell wrong.....and 2) I don't have a soul....just a dark empty void of a shell. At first I was shocked, but then I decided I still looked good. I guess things could be worse!  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯Hi, Judges! I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I saw what the mini challenge was. This was a fun bit of makeup that I've always wanted to try and see how it looked. I really enjoyed doing it and taking a multitude of different pics. I couldn't choose which ones to do, so I picked 2 that fit in with the first part of my description. Now....can you tell Analyse to fix me.....before I throw my head at her!!!!!!

Lila: I am honestly happy with this. No, it’s not a full face of makeup, but it’s definitely an optical illusion that I was expecting to see. It would’ve been fun to see you in some face makeup, even if it was just like a little beat on, it would’ve been funny to even have some sort of like Toni face mask realness, like you were in the spa chair getting your facial done. Take care with how you draw the hollow part of the neck, I would’ve love to have seen some reds or whatever your drag character oozes inside, even if you stuck Lisa Frank stickers all over the inside area I wouldn’t have been mad! Nevertheless, I’m happy that you went down this route, and I like this submission a lot!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: Now THIS is an optical illusion! Even if I hadn’t read your explanation it would have made sense, which is always a plus. I’m guessing the “curse” aspect is why it’s such a clean cut, but I still think adding some things like a trachea or some arteries (not gore, just a cross-section) might have helped sell the illusion a bit more, as right now it’s just sort of a patchy gray. I do wish there was a little more going on on the face, even like a sleeping mask because you “just woke up”. Still, this is a great job, and you really sold it!

Toni: This is an illusion! I really am shocked by this because this is so cool and at first i was like “what the fuck?”. I would have loved if you had done more thought, because it is a shoulders up it does seem a bit bare, even a light paint would have added something to this submission. It was smart to ahve a balck back ground that way it would make sense to have the black in your neck. Over all this is a really well done illusion. 

Antonina: Hi Lexi! I’m gonna be honest....I don’t see it. Maybe I’m just stupid lol. The disconnected head is a good idea though. Without any face makeup, the neck is the only thing to look at, and then it looks a little weak. Maybe I’m just a little spoiled with your last main challenge submission. The top part of the neck makeup where it’s really black looks really cool though. The idea is good, it’s exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for. The end results just didn’t match my expectations because I know how fierce you are. 

Marcella Fox

Hello judges! Let me introduce you to my great Aunt Hortense - she was a model back in the 1980s, known for her high cheekbones and striking gaze. She felt out of the public eye after a scandal involving a grapefruit, and since then has kept a low profile. The menopause has been rather unkind to her, resulting in a more-than-barely-noticeable moustache and, as you can see, she is still recovering from her recent rhinoplasty procedure. Still though, she never steps out of the house without a face full of make-up - I’m sure you can all agree she still looks glamorous! I had a lot of fun with this mini challenge! I immediately thought of doing an upside-down illusion, and I was inspired by this cyclops I saw while googling ideas. I made an eye to put in my mouth, turned my actual eyes into giant nostrils, and hid my real nostrils with a plaster/bandaid. My eyebrows became a moustache, and I drew a giant pair of lips on my forehead. I wrapped a scarf around my head to look like, well, a scarf :p And held some hair underneath my chin to complete this fab 80’s look :]

Lila: SHOCKED. GAGGED. PULLED THE PAG. Marcella Fox, this is friggin’ CRAZY and I love it. The fact that some people won’t be able to establish you’re upside down and your eyeball is your mouth opened, I keep having to look back and do double takes because it’s SO interesting. I only noticed that you were upside down when I saw your hand holding the wig, and I’m just a sporadic mess because there’s no words to describe how you hit the nail on the head for me this challenge. One thing, and it’s a little nitpick, is if you had some sort of stand or piece of fabric tacked to your headwrap so that it looks like your character has a body, but like, honestly, the tiniest nitpick isn’t gonna take away how much I am impressed by this look. Great submission, Marcie!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: Up until this very moment, Toni had always been my favorite Cyclops from the 80′s. But NO LONGER, Marcella, it’s your Aunt Hortense! You managed to brilliantly combine camp/comedy with technique and the result is honestly so amazing. The lines are great and make sense, and the highlighting on the lips is so good. Your workarounds for hiding your natural features are also quite clever (though i would have suggested a bit more dramatic of a bandage for the rhinoplasty, as the beige of the current one gets a little lost in the shuffle of the face). These are honestly just nitpicks though, because I am still in AWE of this piece. Amazing job, Marcella!

Toni: YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE? AND MAKE ME LOOK AT THIS MONSTER?? I’m shocked, gagged, disgusted, horrified and I love every bit of it! This makes me so freaking uncomfortable to look at but in the best was possible. I think this holds truest to what a makeup illusion should be because this is so hard for my brain to process. If you wore this look out youd get tipped no question. Just make sure to have those really clean lines so that everything looks a bit more realistic, but over all im SHOOK BITCH.

Antonina: Wow! This is like a challenge: “How many faces can you find?”. I get so much backstory just by looking at your pictures, and to read your description was a joy. Keep taking every chance to be funny! The creature you created is so interesting and I can’t stop staring at it! I honestly don’t know what to say more than you did such a great job. 

Paprika

My makeup for the mini was inspired by 80s Patrick Nagel, in the way that he drew the features of so many of the women in his prints and the color scheme he used, as well as (obviously) miss Kim Chi. I love drawing on my face and doing creative mugs so for the opitcal illusion challenge I wanted to play off of that and BECOME a drawing.

Lila: You are so pretty and no matter what you do, optical illusion or normal face, you’re always gonna make me jealous. I would consider this an optical illusion because I’ve seen a lot of people try this with the Marilyn Monroe tutorials and stuff, so I’m pleased to see you go down this route! You look like a CD cover for an indie music band which I enjoy. I wish the black was a little more black than grey. I’m guessing you used either a black face paint or eyeliner, so to get that pure black just set the area with some eyeshadow of the same colour. However, great submission this week, Paps!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: This is a very cool look, Paprika, and beautiful as well. The colors are simple but the effect is still striking. I would suggest better lighting (I’m guessing that’s a window to your right, try facing it so the tone is more even all over your face) as well as a better backdrop, even hanging up a black sheet could work. I like the shapes of the face a lot, but I would recommend setting the black with shadow to help make it as opaque as possible. The hair is brown instead of black, which is fair if that’s all you have, but having a more solid (less flyaway) hairstyle would match this look I think. Overall, great job, Pappy!

Toni: As someone who has Nagels art hanging all over her drag room i am so glad to see you do something like this! I really think this is striking and true to the art style. I don’t think this is what would be considered a standard illusion but the way you did it really sells it for me. I think if you really darkened thosse shadows and cleaned up your lines it would be so amazing. Good work this week babe!

Antonina: I really like this. I wanna see a video of you in this look reading poetry in french. It looks really good, there are some areas that could use some more work though. For example, the crease lines are very different from eachother. If you’re gonna do this again, make the dark parts darker and maybe some cool collar bone shadows? I think you’re on the right track, keep it up. 

Phoebe St. Jefferson

For my mini I was really anxious about this, because make up is for sure one of my insecurities in drag. Despite this i chose to do something really ambitious and yolo my way through this. I decided to turn myself into a snake/reptile type creature, but also blend my hand into my face. For this I followed the example of this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sekYblpNDAo But I also tried to make it a little more cartoony, something fun that will actually look like my kind of style. For the make up I primed, sketched out where the mouth was with clown white, then darkened the lines with a cheap eyeliner pencil. For the color of the snake I went in with clown white mixed in with a little black eyeshadow. The hardest part of this challenge was taking a picture where all the lines matched up. Anyways enough of me rambling. Hope u enjoy boos xoxoxoxo.

Lila: WHAT? Scared of makeup my ass! This is by far it’s one of the more creative submissions we received! I see an optical illusion in this, honestly. It must be a trend to have snakes on this cycle, so I cant wait to see who does a snake for the main challenge. One thing to watch is your positioning with this type of optical illusion. I can see a small shed of skin at the bow of your thumb and index finger, and you could’ve colour matched your hoodie and background to try and make it pop a lot more. Otherwise, great submission, Phoebs!

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: This look is honestly incredible, Phoebe! It’s very creative, and you went outside the box by incorporating/camouflaging your hand into the illusion! Are the lines perfect and crisp? Not entirely, but the effect is still there. I would appreciate a bit more detail on the mouth itself, as it reads more of a flat pink, but it’s still really cool. One way I could see this look being elevated would be to have had the hand painted as a CLOSED mouth with maybe the tongue flicking out, then lowering your hand to reveal the open mouth, but I can understand the difficulty of trying to pull that off lol. You should be very proud of yourself, Phoebe, and I hope this mini helps you with your makeup insecurity, because from what I see, you can do great work!

Toni: Honestly for your level of makeup skills this is amazing and I’m so glad you went down this route and took my suggestions. I would make sure to pay attention to where you are taking your pictures and their position because they can alter how its viewed and I think if you had the opportunity to take it against a solid background it would have made this more striking but I really love this over all!

Antonina: Thanks for the nightmares Phoebs!! This creature is scary af lol. This is one of the most memorable submissions we got this weak! That paint must have taken you quite some time to do! If you want to do this look again, get some snake eye lenses to get the full fantasy, but for a week 2 mini challenge of TDR I think you’ve shown a lot of dedication already. All the blacks could be darker, but most imporantly around your eyes. It looks a little sloppy. But hey, whatever, this is a great sssssssssssubmission. 

Sugar Monroe

For this “optical illusion” mini, I was inspired buy a lot of color blocking makeup I saw and also stained glass? Idk. This is what I came up with. Lol

Lila: When I opened up the submissions, I got a little bit of an Indiah Ferrah / Phoenix 1st Episode Workroom vibe when I saw some of the other girls doing a similar look to what you’ve done this mini. While the whole mondrian-mosaic fantasy is kind of the go-to illusion, it’s not really optical, or for that matter original. a spin on this could’ve been following the natural contours of your face with the shapes or even doing your contours with the black lines and a blending of all the colours. It just doesn’t scream illusive to me. With your colours, try to add a darker and a lighter hue too, just to make them seem 3-D. Overall, this was an alright submission.

Gluttoni: *Gluttoni’s Critiques will be edited in later, she apologises in advance!*

Letha: While I do think the colors are very refreshing and vibrant, a lot of the critiques I had for Klinker apply here, Sugar. The black lines are generally strong and not muddy, but setting the areas with a corresponding powder (or even a translucent color all over) would have sold an illusion more. You lose opacity in some place, the white/purple most noticeably, but most of the areas pop quite nicely. I feel like the illusion aspect of the challenge could have been executed better, but I do enjoy the look you made. Solid work.

Toni:I know you had some troubles with this mini but i do wish you had worked more with the judges to find something you were able to do ebcause this is much less of an illusion and more just kinda an art style makeup if thake makes sense. Be careful on that babe. But I do want to give you props for going out side of your normal paint, if you were to do this again I’d say think out those black lines so that you can have more color showing as well as adding more shapes. Good luck this week love!

Antonina: The red and the pink looks really bright and good, but what’s going on with the purple on your forehead? All the other colors looks good, but you should have filled in the purple a lot more. It’s not my favorite submission this week, but that doesn’t mean you look  bad, it’s cute. I just wasn’t surprised by it. I think you did a good job for what it is, but I wanted more of a concept. Also, a little more color on the lips wouldn’t hurt. I believe in you Sugar, surprise us next time! This is alright, but give us more! 

[dorishull]

The Impact of Coronavirus: A Looming Recession and How You Can Protect Your Business

The rampant spread of the Coronavirus has forced the world into lockdown and pushed the global economy to the brink of recession.

Companies will close, and jobs will go. People are already being forced to stay home with no clear return date..

The way back to prosperity will be long and hard – especially for small business owners and professional service providers who don’t have the luxury of large cash reserves and big fish clients.

When you have no control over the economy, no certainty over what your income will be over the next 6, 12 or even 18 months or how you’ll pay your overheads – while your desperate rivals are all competing for the same pool of clients – you may feel suffocated and powerless.

This fear is widespread; it is valid; and right now, it is growing by the day as the pandemic changes, grows and accelerates, impacting our world on a health and financial scale rarely witnessed.

But it is possible to tilt the scales back in your favor to some degree.

You can create some shelter to keep your business dry and safe while the economic storm hammers down.

The important thing is to educate yourself about your situation, taking a forensic look at your business, its costs and ways it can be improved. Once you do, you’ll be able to make fast, informed decisions that will buy you breathing space in the short term and position you for success once the pandemic fades and the market turns for the better. And it will get better… eventually…

But rather than follow the herd in believing the world is ending, this is an opportunity to give your business the tune-up it needs. When economic times are good, a host of mistakes are either not visible or easily ignored. But when things tighten, as they are right now, it’s your chance to reshape your business, making it better than before while guarding against the spectre of recession.

As someone who has successfully built both brick-and-mortar and online businesses, I can see a number of patterns and behaviors emerging over the coming months.

There are ways you can insulate your business from the worst of this pandemic and even find some opportunity amidst the panic and chaos.

The following are my seven predictions of the impact the coronavirus will have on companies and employees and the way we will do business in the foreseeable future.

7 Predictions of the Impact of Coronavirus on Business

1. Content marketing will decrease as people have less time, money and resources to put towards it.

If you’ve been following me for any period of time, you’ll know I consider strong, relevant, informative content as one of the foundational building blocks of any successful business. Content marketing is the most effective way to get prospective clients to know, like and trust you.

But strong, well-researched, helpful content your audience will find useful and share with their networks – which helps build your reputation – takes time, money and resources.

This means many businesses will pull the plug on content entirely (to their lead generation detriment), scale back significantly or put out sub-standard content.

Whatever you do, DON’T fall into this trap.

You have an opportunity right now to double down on good content. If you find client work is slowing down, it’s a great time to ramp up your content output.

In fact, as the standard of content in your industry drops, you’ll shine even brighter if you commit to producing quality.

2. Spam will increase exponentially as desperation sets in.

In the weeks and months to come, you will likely notice a spike in the number of messages hitting your inbox.

As the panic over the virus has risen, so too has the desperation of many businesses to make a fast buck and try to stash some money away for the economic winter coming our way.

There’s nothing wrong with selling. Far from it.

But when it’s done in an aggressive, spammy, impersonal way, it actually DAMAGES your business.

In their desperation, many business owners and marketers will be looking for quick and easy ways to blast their sales messages out to as many people as possible (maybe using automation or shortcuts). Doing that will not help them. People can smell desperation a mile away. Such marketers will be ignored, deleted or blocked, and their reputation and credibility will be damaged.

3. Your personal brand will be key to lead generation as people will be a lot more cautious with their money and look for people who convey authority, credibility and trust.

Anyone who has been through a recession before knows most businesses will be affected. But today’s recession landscape differs from previous ones, even from the last recession of 2008. We spend more time online than ever before, and we look to Google and social media to help us make many of our decisions.

People and businesses will be much more cautious investing their money and will be doing more research before choosing where to spend it. They will look not just at your company and your products/services but at you. Are you someone they can trust? If your personal brand doesn’t convey professionalism, authority, credibility and trust, they will move on to someone else.

Take the time now to upgrade your online presence. Start with creating a compelling LinkedIn profile as that is often the first place someone looks when considering doing business with someone. If you are not completely proud of how you present yourself on LinkedIn, how will anyone else be impressed or trust that you are someone they can trust when times are harder?

RESOURCE: In my new LinkedIn Leads video series, the first video is called How to Create a Magnetic LinkedIn Profile that Attracts Your Ideal Clients. Click here for instant access.

4. Employment will become very unstable, and the job market will become a hyper-competitive bloodbath.

The sad reality of an economic downturn like this is that people will lose their jobs as businesses look to cut costs to survive.

A few things will flow from this:

Those who have lost their jobs will try to start their own home business because big companies won’t be hiring.

For freelancers and consultants, the competition will be intense. Labor costs will come down, and freelancers and consultants charging excessive rates will be replaced by those who will provide the same service for far less. Many will turn to low-cost overseas labor, regardless of the threat it could have to overall quality and service.

Even self-employed people will happily accept a job to provide some level of financial security to their families.

5. Social selling will become more important than ever, but only those who have taken the time to learn to do it right will see any results.

Social selling is so much more than pumping out content, finding leads on LinkedIn, sending connection requests, then giving them the hard sell.

Those who attempt to do social selling this way will be wasting a lot of time and see next to no results. In fact, the end result will be the same as in the point number 2 above.

Social selling is about building relationships with your prospects and establishing trust and authority using social media and other digital marketing tactics. To succeed, it’s crucial you pay attention to your prospects’ needs, goals, problems and desires, meet them where they are at on the buyer’s journey, and position your company or service as the perfect solution.

It takes time, dedication and strategic planning to achieve. But when it’s done right, your lead generation efforts are maximized, and client conversion becomes inevitable.

RESOURCE: In the LinkedIn Leads video series, the second video is called How to Find, Engage and Convert LinkedIn Connections into Clients. Click here to access the series.

6. People and companies will cut all non-essential expenses. Their budgets will be reserved mostly for products/services that can make them or save them money.

Marketing companies and agencies will drop like flies, because people and companies will reduce their marketing budgets. They will only invest in the marketing approaches they can tie a specific ROI to, such as lead generation.

When the economy tanks, an organization’s focus narrows. It focuses on the activities that not just make money, but deliver the most bang for the buck. Every expense they look at now needs to fit the equation of low cost = high return.

After all, why would a business spend $1 if it wasn’t guaranteed a $2 return?

We know that isn’t always possible, but that is the lens through which your services will be viewed.

The question for any small business, consultancy, or solo service provider now in survival mode is this: How do you make/save money for your clients?

If you can answer that question by demonstrating a strong ROI to your clients, your chances of continuing to work with them will increase exponentially.

And if you can increase your value to them, you’ll be worth your weight in gold.

7. It will be survival of the fittest. Fly-by-nighters will pop up everywhere, and although they won’t last long, they could do irreparable damage to some.

Where there is money to be made, you will find dishonest, unqualified, inexperienced hustlers who make all the promises in the world, take your money and run!

This is true across any industry. There will always be dishonest people who can see an opportunity to benefit themselves to the financial detriment of others.

Check your newsfeeds right now. Do you see smooth-talkers making big claims about how you can earn tons of money with very little effort? Somehow these “gurus” have the SECRET!

If you’re looking to invest in education and services to help your business move forward, do your due diligence. It only takes a bit of digging on the internet to uncover someone’s credentials and reputation, and I want you to make an informed decision that will give you a good return on your investment.

The consequences of working with someone who can’t deliver on what they promise could be dire for your business.

Just today, I received an email from a man asking for my help. He had used the services of a virtual assistant in the Philippines claiming to be a LinkedIn expert. The outcome was his account was “Permanently Restricted.” All those years of building up a network, and it’s gone when he needs it most.

Even worse is the impact on your reputation and the degree of trust people have in you. Trust takes years to build. It can sustain a business in hard times, but it takes only the tiniest spark to see it burn down, taking your business with it. Be extremely careful.

And if you’re someone offering services, I truly mean it when I say it is survival of the fittest. You need to deliver exceptional value and service to your clients, which should eventually lead to referrals of more work for you. And don’t be shy about talking up your strengths and successes as long as you do it in a professional and humble manner. People generally have a good radar, and if you conduct yourself professionally, with honesty, humility and generosity, including in your marketing, people will want to work with you.

How to Protect Your Business in a Recession

Times are tough, and they will get tougher.

But if you take some pain upfront, you can sandbag your business against the economic waves lapping at your door and even set yourself up for a stronger future.

If there’s one thing that tighter budgets do, they make you look at your business in a way you may never have before. Use this to your advantage: look not just for budget efficiencies, but operational ones too.

You might be surprised at what you find, and you will potentially find that over the medium- to long-term, your business will end up stronger than before.

But before that, you have to make some decisions. The following is what I think of as the essential low-hanging fruit that every business needs to grab to protect itself from a recession.

Put all your costs under the microscope.

Any non-essential expenses need to go, at least for now. Anything that doesn’t give you a strong ROI needs to be reconsidered seriously.

Are you efficient? Assess your processes and how you do business day to day.

Your time, and your staff’s time, is one of the most precious commodities you have. Use it wisely. Similarly, assess your tools of production, such as software. Do you really need 5-10+ different technology tools? What can you teach yourself to do, outsource cheaply or go without?

Make smart investments in things that can grow your business.

This is a real opportunity to identify skills gaps in your own toolbox and that of your people. Investing in education could lead to another revenue stream for you, greater efficiency, or a saving on labor costs – if, e.g., you do certain tasks in-house instead of outsourcing them. Make an effort to be more self-sufficient.

Don’t stop marketing, but laser focus on one to two things that offer the biggest return for the lowest outlay, and commit as much time and money as you can to those.

Look at all the data related to your marketing costs. If it doesn’t clearly generate business, it has to go. Now is not the time to waste money dabbling in every platform, channel and medium because you’re scared of missing out.

Make lead generation a priority. But do it the right way.

If you think lead generation means spamming people’s inboxes with your offer multiple times a day, you’re actually hurting your business. And please don’t fall for all these “magic bullet” automations that promise to find you leads while you sleep. Lead generation is about building relationships, and that takes time. But in the long run, it makes for stronger businesses. And if you’ve been swamped with work up until now, this period is the perfect time to reignite relationships fallen by the wayside. You never know what old contacts have been up to or how you might be able to help them.

Lower your risk tolerance.

Reduce risk in all areas of your business and even in your personal life. Even though the market is down and there may be some great deals to be had, now is not the time to lease a new car or take any unnecessary financial risks.

Weather the Economic Storm

The economic storm clouds are gathering.

Sadly, many businesses will hit the wall through a combination of poor planning, poor decision-making and a stubborn refusal to adapt to the new climate.

But if you are nimble, open-minded, analytical and decisive, you can batten down the hatches until it passes.

But more than that, you can be primed for success – especially if you take this as an opportunity to ramp up your lead generation efforts and fit your offer to your market.

Your level of client service and social selling skills will be crucial if you want to keep ahead of your competitors and stay top of mind with current and potential clients.

Yes, price is always a consideration when people are looking to invest/cut back on products and services, but if you enjoy strong relationships with your clients, provide exceptional service and knowledge, and have a great offer, you don’t have to engage in a race to the bottom and cut your pricing to the bone.

But you do need to be smart. I’d recommend you start planning now.

The truth is life will change in the foreseeable future – both personally and professionally. And it’s our ability to adapt that decides who survives, then thrives, once the storm passes. And it will pass. Even the darkest, deepest recessions and bear markets eventually turn. And when that happens, the winners will be those who were brave enough to make smart, at times tough, decisions to keep the show on the road.

I don’t want to add fear amidst all the uncertainty already out there. Far from it. I simply believe it’s always best to be prepared for uncertainty and to insulate yourself against it the best you can. There is real opportunity, even now. I hope you can see this and take the chance to recalibrate and reposition your business for future success.

Now, more than ever, you need to drop your cost of client acquisition and find effective zero or low-cost cost methods to generate the leads that will keep your business going.

But be cautious about the advice you take – there are sharks out there. Avoid automation and cookie-cutter solutions – focus on relationship building.

You are most welcome to attend my free webinar – The Ultimate LinkedIn Lead Generation System – to learn an ethical and effective relationship-building method. Click here to register.

Now is the perfect time to arm yourself with the tools you need to weather this storm so you can come out on the other side. Be well, and stay connected to those around you.

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[topfygad]

A Unique Overnight Experience on the ‘White Continent’ – I am Aileen

Antarctica is known for being the land of extremes (it is the coldest and windiest place on Earth after all!). Given this fact, most of its guests are often seeking for the thrill and the “extreme” — and yes… I happen to be one of those people. Therefore, in the spirit of my epic 20-day expedition, I did a polar plunge inside an active volcano during one of the first few days that I landed on the peninsula. (Yes, you read that correctly: inside a volcano). A few days later, I thought: “Why not put it a step further and do camping in Antarctica’s sub-zero conditions too?”

And well — I did just that! I slept under the amazing Antarctic sky with only the thin wall of a tent separating me from the elements, and it was such a memorable once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Now, a lot of IAATO (International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators) companies such as the provider I went with (called as Hurtigruten) provides camping as one of the optional things to do in Antarctica. As early as now, I highly recommend that you to take this wonderful opportunity when you’re going on an expedition cruise to the ‘White Continent’. Besides, it’s not everyday that you can say you’ve slept on the actual grounds of the bottom of the world (not to mention, acquiring a slot in this camping activity is often limited too).

So to give you an idea (as well as some more info) about this surreal activity, do continue reading below to read about my experience! .

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» Is it safe? «

Is it safe for us? Absolutely. You do NOT even have to be an experienced camper because just about anyone can do camping in Antarctica. Also, remember this: you’re in the hands of experts who are particularly knowledgeable about the Antarctic terrain, so as long as you follow their instructions, you’ll be fine! Besides, the expedition team who will be with you for the rest of the night will always be in constant communication with the ship (which is located not too far away from where you will be). So if conditions get worse, the activity will either be cancelled or everyone will be whisked away back to the ship via zodiac boats.

Is it safe for the Antarctic environment? First things first, IAATO-approved tour operators will always ensure that camping in Antarctica is held in a place that will NOT disturb any of the wildlife — but it is possible that the surrounding penguins will come and disturb you with their ‘calls’ *wink*. Secondly, as I will be discussing in the third section below, there will be strict regulations that will be implemented in order to preserve the pristine beauty of the continent. So after the overall activity, nothing will be left behind, may it be camping gear, food, human waste, etc. .

» What are the rules?  «

Camping in Antarctica comes with some rules that every participating person should follow:

NO one must bring any kind of food to the Antarctic soil. (Excluding an approved snack bar that will be given to you by the ship. However, this is only to be consumed when someone gets really hungry during the night — which is actually very unlikely because you will be setting off to your camping spot after dinner.)

While we’re discussing food, NO campfires will be done. So nope, you can’t warm up by the fire, roast some marshmallows and drink a hot cup of chocolate — that’s an experience you’ll have to enjoy somewhere else.

Drinks are also NOT allowed except for the bottle of water provided.

Naturally, NO throwing of any waste on Antarctica.

Speaking of waste, that includes human waste too. For my case, my ship with Hurtigruten typically brings disposable toilets that will only be used for when it’s really needed (after the camping in Antarctica, these will be brought back to the ship for discarding).

No brushing of teeth is allowed either. You can do this before you leave for the camping or once you’re back on the ship on the next day (since departure is at early in the morning).

Do NOT walk away from the camp.

All IAATO rules regarding wildlife are to be followed at all times, meaning that you must keep at least 5-meter distance from penguins — no touching and no stressing them.

Try to maintain silence. No shouting or making unnecessary noises.

In short: you only need to bring your clothes, camera gear, and the provided camping paraphernalia. (Of course, if at any point you start to feel uneasy and would want to go back to the ship, the crew will surely arrange your return by zodiac or polarcirkel boat.) .

» What to bring and wear?  «

Temperature in the continent starts to drop when the night creeps in; but rest assured, since it is summer season, it will be quite bearable. (During my camping in Antarctica, the night reached only about -5° celsius).

What do I bring for the camping? The ship will be providing each pair of guests the following high-quality gear that are up to Antarctic standards: a strong 3-person tent, 2 breathable bivouac or bivy bags (rated for extreme sub-zero cold temperatures), a big foam pad (for added warmth) and 2 inflatable sleeping pads or mattresses.

What else then do I need to bring? What do I wear? Weather can be unpredictable but what’s for sure is that the temperature will drop and that the winds will start to get very strong into the night so you need to warm yourself up. Below are the recommended clothing and accessories you need to bring when camping in Antarctica:

Thermal underwear

Warm sweater

Down outer jacket or parka (usually provided by the ship for free)

Trousers

Warm headgear (bonet, hat, etc.)

Warm gloves or mittens (and an additional spare gloves)

Neck gaiter

Thick socks (and an additional spare socks)

Sunglasses

Sunblock

Medication (in case you need any)

Waterproof muck boots (usually provided by the ship for free)

Flashlight (or your phone is enough; this is helpful especially around March when the sun briefly sets. TRIVIA: Around November to February, there is 24 hours of sunlight).

NOTE: For a complete Antarctica packing list, read here.

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» How does the camping go? «

The overall process will differ from ship to ship, but the following endeavour with Hurtigruten is pretty much how things would work out.

First, acquiring the slots. Like I’ve previously mentioned, slots for camping in Antarctica are often few due to regulations and limited equipment. Customarily though, in case a lot of guests are interested in doing this activity, some ships like Hurtigruten will hold a fair lottery. So for my case, out of all the number of people that signed up, I along with my +1 were picked along with 14 other couples to do the ‘Amundsen Night’ experience. (I hope my luck in this lifetime hasn’t run out yet!)

Mandatory briefing. In the morning, every participant was required to attend the mandatory briefing so that we are well-informed of the rules and the overall schedule of our camping in Antarctica.

Departure. After dinner, we met at 8:30PM on the lower deck so that we can all be taken by the zodiac or polarcirkel boats to our camping ground in Danco Island or Isla Deco (other cruise providers will most likely use other locations; though if I my say so, this place was just perfect and the photos below will show you why).

Setting up of the camp. The expedition team will mark the areas where we are supposed to set up our tents. After picking a spot, Jonas and I swiftly started to work on pitching up our tent. At that point, I started to feel nostalgic as I realized how much I missed camping!

Anyhow, everything was smooth-sailing and easy (with some penguins watching us curiously from a few meters away) — …until it was time to put down the pegs. You see, the snow was really hard; but thankfully, the expedition team was there to help us hammer everything down in order to keep our tent in place (after all, the winds will pick up later on so it was important that everything was firm). All in all, it took everyone an hour to have every tent and gear in place.

Free time. The weather was pleasant that night so the expedition team decided to do a short hike on the nearby hill in order for us to get an amazing panoramic view of our surroundings as well as visit the gentoo penguin colony that was on top. Everyone was free to join; otherwise, staying in the camp was fine — naturally, Jonas and I went with the hiking crew and though the winds were really harsh on top, the views really were just worth the effort!

Once we headed back down, some people immediately slept, some remained outside to mingle, some have dragged their bivy bags to sleep out of their tents, and some kept snapping away with their cameras. Me? I did snap some more photos and videos around me and mingled with our neighbors, but after I went back to our tent to ‘briefly’ catch some warmth from my bivy bag… I just blacked out. Haha, I guess I was exhausted! But yes, the bivy bags were really cozy and warm — sometimes even too warm so I suggest that you sleep in it with just your thermals on.

If you happen to be on a cruise sometime around March, you’ll catch the glorious yet short-lived sunrise and sunsets in Antarctica. I went here around December so I basically had 24 hours of sunlight. However, sometime in the night, the sun did start to mellow down a bit which gave us pinkish hues on the horizon.

Departure. At 5:00AM, everyone was up and ready to start taking down the camp. Naturally, we made sure that we left nothing behind as we removed all traces of our presence — this is, of course, all in the effort of protecting the wildlife and the fragile environment in Antarctica.

After everyone was brought back to the ship via the zodiac and polarcirkel boats, we all had a special breakfast as we happily talked about our wondrous night in the icy snow! .

» Other Photos «

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The camping in Antarctica has been a short overnight stint, and I gotta say, it didn’t really hit me that what I did was so amazing and unique — until I got back home. I guess it was a delayed reaction; but surely, not a lot of people have the chance to say that they survived a night in the world’s coldest and harshest continent!

So yes, I had a great time and you bet that it really gave me a feel of what a night could be like for past and present explorers who were/are courageous enough to brave through Antarctica’s elements.

All in all, this camping experience may be brief but think about this: you won’t ever get the chance to camp on Antarctic soil if you don’t grab it during your Antarctic cruise expedition! (Unless of course, you’re one of the pros who are planning to trek the South Pole, etc.) But for us normal people, you should definitely book your spot because I guarantee you that this will become one of the most unforgettable things that you’ll do in your entire life!

Want a travel guide for Antarctica? Read about more info here. Got some more questions? Read the FAQ.

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