#as well as her own hard work (she's proud of her development as a magician despite being an ''ordinary human'')

[waffliesinyoface]

was thinking more about youkai-ification while in the shower, and you know what's the best part of it, IMO?

not realizing it's happening.

it starts off with small subtle personality changes, which could be noticeable to any of your friends, but to you? it's so slow that for you it's just your new normal. you've always been like this, right?

you don't notice that anything is different until one day when you look in the mirror and realize that your eyes haven't always been red.

what else might have changed? can you even tell?

[colection-of-chaos]

Scholar's etiquette

Now and then, Veda hated her job. They wouldn't give it up for anything, though. She had done so much to get here.  Climbing the ladder, forcing the important people to acknowledge their capabilities, all that had been hard work and a streak of lucky circumstances. Now she didn't have to fear to nor be able to eat, they could spend  most of her time doing the thing that fulfill her. They had access to more books than she could have ever imagined, just as much as seeing, not to mention actually being able to read. Being able to do actually research, with experiments and a laboratory, had been so far from something she would have thought they could ever do, would someone have tolled the worn out magician's hand that she had been once, what live they were now living, she would have thought that they were making a cruel joke.

Veda had come far from that hungry child. Had grasped for every opportunity, not matter how small, had done things they weren’t proud of. But now she had their owns study, she also had to handle a lot more politics than they had ever wanted to.

That was the price for this dream come true. They sighed, this was probably the third book about costumes, they has opened int the last few hours. Who would have thought that being the royal mage and the trusted advisor to the king in the matters of magic would ever force her to study diplomacy. They were less than pleased about this development. Conversing with other mages about a variety of matters was something she had no problem doing, and they  were fully capable of  defending the funding of the Institute of Magic, Witchcraft and Sorcery against powerful aristocrats, with a much more secure standing in the high society, but politics had never been their strong suit, nor something she had ever longed to be part of.

Now she had no choice though, a delegation of Magic users would arrive in a couple of days, and not one of the wandering types, not the independent ones that they had nonce been themself, no this one was also a diplomatic delegation of one of the neighbor countries, one of the ones in which magic was much more a part of the ruling class than it was here, more something gave someone an elite standing. They had not only  some of the other advisors voiced the option, that a magic user would of help for the negotiations to go more smoothly, but also that said magic user should probably verse themself in the magic costume, that had become so much less elitist in the community of their own country, but still was a big part of others.

So now Veda the least used to politeness and strict etiquette of all the residents in the palace, had to prepare for a magic congregation, interested both in political negotiations, as well was magical conversation to arrive.

Never, not when serving a witch in the woods, nor later when she had been the hand of a sorcerer or after that serving a mage, had the advisor for magical means thought, they would have to be more than a scholar. Their starving urchin live had not prepared them for that, never doing odd jobs for magic users of any kind, had she thought they would have to have any etiquette  then the one of street smarts and slyness. So now they had to suffer through a mass of volumes dealing with a variety of topics concerning history, etiquette and political. Nothing had been this tedious to her in a long time. Not even the copying of the dusty old books, in heinous condition, the royal library had dumped on them when they had first started working for the king.

Still they suffered through them, she was a scholar for gods’ sake she would be able to learn this and use it. If This was the price for doing what they loved, they would pay it, may not happily, but they had paid for it with so much worse they would get through this.

It wasn’t like this would be the biggest challenge they would have to overcome, not in the past and certainly not in the future. One of this more strenuous challenge would pose itself soon, because diplomacy was far from their rule house.

Note

This is the first time I write a character using more than one set of pronouns, and I'm really not sure if I got it right, if anyone using she/they, he/they, or other sets of multiple pronouns users read this please let me know if this is how you would want them used or if you have tips for me to improve.

If there is any other feedback someone would want to give I would be really overjoyed, honesty anyone that wants to tell me their thoughts, in a respectful way, is welcome to do so.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[eiwenmaclor]

Supergirl prompt #3 - Prove it

[Following the list of 50 Dialog prompts]

  _______________________

  33. “Prove it.” - theme coffee

  The conversation had flowed easily, as it would have before... well, before everything. They were trying to rebuild their relationship. Lena was burning to call Kara her friend again but was afraid to be too hasty doing so. She knew they had hurt each other. They needed to respect that in order to avoid doing it again in any way. Sometimes it seemed like they were managing fine and other times it was as if a single word could unbalance them all over again. But they were both trying and they were making progress. Kara being in her penthouse for the second time in two weeks was definitely a proof of that.

Right now, Lena was looking unimpressed at the alien in her kitchen. The reporter huffed gently, playing with her glasses. The gesture was familiar. Very Kara Danvers.

  "I can do it better Lena, that's all I'm saying!"

   The Kryptonian's tone might have been cocky if not for the seemingly immediate blush that came with her bold affirmation. That was endearing and exactly why it was so hard not to rush in their friendship once again. But it was also clear that Kara didn't want to overstep whatever boundary they were resetting. They were both careful, cautious. Lena really hoped that it would dissolve with time. She missed the easiness they once had. Because it had always been easy with Kara Danvers, which was an anomaly in Lena's experience with people. Never before had it been so easy. But that was the whole point wasn't it? It had been unusually easy with the reporter but it hadn't with her superhero counterpart. Now, they were one and the same and Lena had to find her footing.

In response to Kara's affirmation, an elegant eyebrow went slightly up. The point of the argument was trivial, really, but Lena was still a Luthor. True, she lacked in egomania, homicidal actions, and world domination planning but certainly not in competitive streak.

  "You're telling me you can roast coffee beans better than the... I don't even know how much it costs... Better than this highly specialized machine?"

  One did not graduate from the MIT, nor tried to cure cancer from a small garage, without developing a taste for good caffeine. Good being the key word here because she had learned the hard way how awful coffee could be when neglected. Early on, the genius had vowed to always care for the quality of her caffeine intake. A bad batch was out of the question. The precious beans were coming from a specific little producer  –a coffee bean magician– that was environment friendly, maintained good working conditions and fair pay, and worked to impact positively the local community. A perfect match. Lena had checked. Yes, personally. And yes, Lena Luthor was home-roasting her coffee beans. Call it guilty pleasure but she had already argued that good caffeine input to her system did increase her efficiency and productivity significantly. It may have been to Sam during their university days. She may have been caffeine high at that time. And it may have included a 10 minute long talk and a well-built powerpoint. She could be extra. So what?

Lena knew her coffee and she knew that her roasting machine was the best available on the market. There was simply no way for Kara to do better. However, the Kryptonian didn't seem to be intimidated. Far from it. The blue eyes were shining with challenge and she only answered with a single but very sure nod.

Game on.

A smile came to Lena's lips.

  "Prove it."

  A couple of minutes later, she was entranced.

Lena didn't know what she was expecting but that wasn't it.

Maybe she should have.

  Kara was on her balcony, coffee beans in a cast-iron skillet held in her hand. Gone were the glasses. Her hair was in a ponytail she had readjusted to free her face.

Oh, and she was using her heat vision on the skillet.

Yeah, that.

Lena was a few feet from the alien, fascinated. At first she had approached the scene like a moth drawn to the flame but Kara had stopped her. "The smoke can be a lot", the Kryptonian had justified softly. She was right, Lena knew it and she had taken a seat at a safe distance. She still had a perfect view of Kara's face. The concentration was obvious. Her skillet hand was doing small circles in order to roast all beans equally.

That's when it hit her.

  Kara's face reflected focus but she was relaxed. It was Kara using heat vision. Not a superhero. Not Supergirl. This was Kara. The "true" Kara. Lena could see plainly how this person could be both a Catco reporter and a determined superhero. Every gesture was done with care. The blond head tilted slightly and Lena understood with a second's delay that she was listening for something. Green eyes went from Kara's face to the coffee beans and back. The crack! Kara was waiting the first crack! Lena felt something she hadn't felt in a long time outside of her lab: wonder. And excitement. The first crack was the most important event of the roasting process. It marked the point where the moisture had been evaporated from the beans. It also meant that the temperature had to be adjusted because the beans themselves would start to emit heat. Really, coffee roasting was a fascinating process. And from the first crack it was an exercise to go on with the roasting without overdoing it at the risk of losing all the initial flavors of the beans. The more Lena was thinking about it, the more she was impressed by what was happening on her balcony. After all, roasting was a delicate process and she had absolutely no idea that a power as destructive as the Kryptonian heat vision could be use with such finesse.

  Kara changed her posture, interrupting Lena's musing. The hand was now moving the beans more actively and the heat coming from her eyes seemed to lessen. The crinkle of seriousness had appeared between Kara's eyebrows, which made Lena smile. The challenge was indeed taken seriously, or maybe was it Kara's love for food that morally compelled her to achieve the perfect roasting without wasting any bean? Either way, Lena found it incredibly endearing. How could she not see it? How could she refuse to reconcile both Kara Danvers and Supergirl as the same person for so long? Oh that was perfectly rhetoric. She knew how. She was hurt and experience had showed that hurt Lena was dumb Lena. A human trait really. Hurt and fear were the least reasonable emotions. But still... Looking at her right now, it was absolutely clear as day.

  Finally, the heat vision receded and Lena witnessed yet another power used outside of superheroing. Freezing breath. More accurately, cooling breath here as it was not that freezing at all. Lena was observing, no less fascinated than before. It really was something else to see Kara like this. She seemed... free. Light. And when her –hopefully soon to be– friend –again– came to her, proud as a peacock, to let her see the result of her work, Lena had to use all of her control not to smile too much. She was losing a challenge after all, she couldn't be that obviously happy about it. She still had some Luthor pride or whatever to salvage. Of course, Kara saw right through it, but that was beside the point. After a totally failed and very short-lived stand-off between the smug Kryptonian and the wannabe pricky Luthor, they both laughed softly. A simple glance at the beans was enough for Lena to know they were perfectly roasted, probably somewhere between a New England and an American Roast.

  "You've done it before haven't you?"

  The question was soft on Lena's lips. She wanted to know without overstepping.

  "Yes."

  The answer was even softer than the question and Lena knew her intuition was right. There was a story there. And she wanted to know. Because that was her fri- Kara. And she had passed too much time not knowing who she was, wholly and completely. Lena's next words where imbued with awe.

  "I had no idea you could do that."

  Her words were received with a small amused laugh.

  "Come on Lena, heat vision and freezing breath! It's not new. You already saw me using them."

  Lena couldn't help but think that it was marvelous how much Kara ignored that she was incredible. She chuckled.

  "Of course. I mean I didn't know you could use them like that, with that much control. I know how much precision roasting coffee needs to be done right. That's very impressive what you're doing with what you can do."

  She didn't want to use the word "power" because not everything was about power and Lena was learning it.

  "Oh... I mean, I kinda have to be in control all the time you know... It's not a big deal."

  Lena saw Kara's nervous gesture to adjust her absent glasses fail. That was adorable in itself but more important was the alien deflecting and denying her accomplishment. Classic but not acceptable however, and Lena wasn't about to let her do it anymore.

   "But it is. I can't imagine it was easy to learn that much control."

  Because in her own way, Lena knew what it was like to be imposed control. To be asked for it. Growing up as a Luthor was anything but learning how to control, whether one's self or others. Control was the Luthor way. Control the way you appear and the way you are perceived, in order to better control those around you. It had been excruciating for Lena. This education had been forced upon her and years later she was still trying to put the pieces back together. To always be in control was exhausting. It probably was even more so for a sun-powered Kryptonian.

  "It was difficult yeah... but the Danvers found thousands of fun ways for me to learn..."

"Like... roasting coffee beans, for example?"

  Lena definitely had a smile and her eyebrows were high, daring Kara to deny it. Which she did not.

  "Yeah. This idea was Jeremiah's."

  There was a tenderness in the way the reporter said his name. Lena slowly put her hand on hers. The loss was still fresh in a way and Kara smiled at the gesture.

  "I'd love to hear more about it. I mean, if you want to talk about it..."

  Lena didn't want to seem forceful. They were still mending things after all. Kara didn't owe her anything. At least not childhood stories. But Lena wanted to know her better, fully. Something that had not been possible until now.

  "I want!"

  Kara being Kara, she must have understood her insecurities and her response was particularly enthusiastic, practically blurted. Very Kara-like. What was very unlike Lena was hearing herself mirroring the blurting.

  "Great!"

  However she was too happy to care how inarticulate she had been. Kara was looking at her with such openness and eagerness that Lena couldn't remember why she had waited that long to tell her she wanted to know her. All of her. That was, without a doubt, a big step in rekindling their friendship. Of course Kara would have been hesitant when she hadn't any reinsurance that Lena accepted her wholly yet. It was like she could feel Kara's relief. She didn't know exactly how long they looked at each other, basking in the soft realization that, yes, they would be friends again and really, they never stopped being friends. Lena finally felt the need to put some lightness before they became emotional, which was a very real risk.

With a warm smile that reflected in her eyes, she asked a simple question.

  "Around coffee?"

  Kara beamed.

  "Perfect."

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

These Violent Delights. By Chloe Gong. New York: Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2020.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Part of a Series? Yes, These Violent Delights #1

Summary: The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. At the heart of it all is eighteen-year-old Juliette Cai, a former flapper who has returned to assume her role as the proud heir of the Scarlet Gang—a network of criminals far above the law. Their only rivals in power are the White Flowers, who have fought the Scarlets for generations. And behind every move is their heir, Roma Montagov, Juliette’s first love…and first betrayal. But when gangsters on both sides show signs of instability culminating in clawing their own throats out, the people start to whisper. Of a contagion, a madness. Of a monster in the shadows. As the deaths stack up, Juliette and Roma must set their guns—and grudges—aside and work together, for if they can’t stop this mayhem, then there will be no city left for either to rule. Perfect for fans of The Last Magician and Descendant of the Crane, this heart-stopping debut is an imaginative Romeo and Juliet retelling set in 1920s Shanghai, with rival gangs and a monster in the depths of the Huangpu River.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: violence, blood, gore

Overview: I love the premise of this book. A Romeo and Juliet retelling? Set in 1920s Shanghai? Sign me up! There was so much to love about These Violent Delights: the setting, the characters, the prose, the complexity of the social and political situation... so why didn’t I rate this book higher? Well, despite all the things I loved, I didn’t love the pacing and the plot. In my opinion, Gong had the tendency to kill a lot of suspense and over-explain things, which not only made the main plot feel slow, but I felt like I was being told a lot of things about characters instead of shown. Thus, it was hard for me personally to absorb the significance of things and become emotionally invested. Overall, though, These Violent Delights is an ambitious book, and I look forward to reading the sequel.

Writing: From the first page of the prologue, I was hooked on Gong’s way of describing the look and feel of Shanghai. I love the way she describes settings, using vivid imagery and almost poetic phrases to evoke feelings of seediness and poverty. Gong ensures that her prose doesn’t get too purple, however, so I think she overall strikes a nice balance between being literary and being accessible.

I do, however, think that Gong had the tendency to tell rather than show when it came to descriptions of the characters’ backstories, motivations, or other things, such as the bloodfeud between the gangs. We are told, for example, that there is a bloodfeud, and we get scenes where gang members bristle at the sight of one another, but we don’t really have any scenes where the bloodfeud serves as a major antagonist or threatens characters in a real, tangible way. Juliette’s and Roma’s pasts also don’t feel very laden with pathos, and I got the impression that we were supposed to feel sympathetic without really seeing how their pasts continue to affect them in the present. For example, we’re told that Roma’s mother was killed by Scarlets, but Roma barely ever thinks about her, doesn’t have any longing for her, etc. Perhaps some flashbacks would have helped make these pasts feel more impactful, or maybe a change in the way characters think and act, but as it stands, I didn’t feel like much of the violence was really “present,” so to speak, because everyone who dies isn’t really given a real presence in the novel.

I also think Gong had the tendency to interrupt the flow of her story by inserting unneeded descriptions or background information at inopportune moments. For example, when Roma and Juliette are running from the scene of a crime at one point, they agree to meet up at a restaurant nearby, and Gong proceeds to give us a paragraph on what that restaurant is like. It has no real significance to the action - the characters don’t really spend a lot of time there, and it never comes up again. As a result, we get some descriptive or expositional passages in the middle of a scene, which I think really slows down the book’s pace and removes a sense of urgency. In other words, form didn’t match function in places where it really mattered.

Lastly, I think Gong over-wrote some of her passages to the extent that the reader was being told things that could have been inferred. We would read, for example, passages where Gong would tell us why a character was speaking quietly or why a character was acting in a certain way, and some of those things would be obvious from context. I think Gong could have benefitted from pulling back a little bit and letting readers piece together some things on their own.

Plot: This book mainly follows Roma and Juliette, to heirs to Shanghai’s two most notorious gangs, as they track down a monster which has been causing a mysterious madness to sweep across the city. In my opinion, this madness/monster plot was a little weak - not only did I feel like the mystery itself wasn’t very clever, but I didn’t get the sense that the madness was truly a threat. As I mentioned above, violence doesn’t really have a tangible impact on our named characters - the gangs aren’t shown to suffer much from the impact on their operations (Juliette doesn’t have to make do with less income, for example, and she doesn’t seem all that connected to the common resident of Shanghai to be altruistic) and even if we just accept that Roma and Juliette want to solve the mystery to prove something to their fathers, I didn’t feel like I cared enough about their statuses in the gang to want them to succeed or fail. To solve this problem, I think I would have liked to see more stakes; if they fail, would the gangs be entrusted to more violent people who would do more harm than good? If they fail, would they be chased out of town or sent away? Something a bit more urgent, I think, to show us that. Granted, wanting to impress their fathers is a good motivation, but I wanted more urgency.

Characters: Juliette, our primary heroine, is perhaps the most well-developed character in this book. She’s the heir to the most powerful gang in Shanghai, but despite the nominal security of her title, she has to prove herself worthy because A.) she’s a woman, and B.) she spent a lot of time in America, which makes her too Western for her people’s standards, yet too Chinese for the Europeans living in the city. She’s also hot-blooded and impulsive, which gets her into some trouble (a flaw that I think Gong wrote well, as it felt like Juliette was being ruthless out of some sense of insecurity). I really enjoyed her as a character, and I think Gong wrote her well.

Roma, our primary hero and Juliette’s love interest, is somewhat less interesting. He has some qualities that seem good on paper: he’s an expert with a firearm and isn’t enthusiastic about violence. He also cares deeply for his sister and has a complicated relationship with his father. However, he didn’t have the same level of complexity as Juliette. He didn’t have any convictions about why he and his gang deserved to be in Shanghai, nor did his family’s history with the Bolsheviks seem to influence the way he responded to the communist uprising. I wanted a little more from him, and I wanted to be shown why Juliette was in love with him (other than their history and, supposedly, Roma’s ability to “really see” her).

Supporting characters were hit or miss. I really liked Rosalind and Kathleen, and I loved the dynamics they brought to the story. As sisters and cousins to Juliette, they have a complicated relationship with the Scarlet Gang - they’re family, but not family enough to have true power or protection. I liked that the sisters responded differently to this situation; Kathleen seems more desperate to do whatever Juliette asks, while Rosalind feels that people like her have to deal with all the fallout of the Cai’s actions. Benedikt and Marshall, Roma’s companions, also had a nice dynamic; Marshall is somewhat outgoing while Benedikt was reserved, and the two brought out new behaviors in the other that made me think they have a budding m/m romance. However, I didn’t really understand their motivations enough to feel invested in their stories. They felt more like sidekicks than characters in their own right - they wandered around Shanghai doing errands for their gang, but didn’t really seem integral in ways other than that.

Antagonists were somewhat bland, in my opinion. Tyler, a hot-headed Cai who wants to be the heir instead of Juliette, weaves in and out at convenient moments, inserting tension at random moments that didn’t seem to build on one another. I would have liked a more sustained storyline where he is constantly interfering and competing with Juliette, perhaps to raise the stakes. For example, if he had also been working to track down the monster, and the two had had more confrontations about their progress along the way, Juliette’s success might be a little more urgent. Dmitri, another hot-headed wannabe heir on the White Flower side, is barely present and doesn’t feel like a threat. I would have liked to see the same thing be done with him: have him investigating the mystery, but in a way that opposes how Roma does things (perhaps a way that exacerbates the blood feud). Even the people directly involved with the monster plot seemed to be stock characters, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that they were formidable opponents for our protagonists.

Romance: For a Romeo and Juliet retelling, I was surprised that the romance (or the relationship, at the very least) wasn’t more of a focus in this book. I guess if the book hadn’t been marketed that way, my thoughts might be different, but then again, many of the names are deliberately crafted to resemble the names in Shakespeare’s play. Even so, I think I liked that the romance didn’t take center stage all the time, as it allowed Gong to give us a retelling that wasn’t just the same plot points as the original play.

However, I definitely would have liked more tension or angst in the scenes when Roma and Juliette were together. We’re told (rather than shown) that the two have a complicated history, but when they’re working together, there’s no real chemistry that convinced me that the two still had feelings for one another. Juliette tells us in her POV that Roma sees her and understands her, but other than that, I didn’t get the sense that there was any passion or emotional intimacy between the two - just history. I would have liked to see more conflicted emotions in the places when Juliette or Roma are forced to interact so that there is a stronger buildup to the more intense emotions later in the book. But as it stands, the revival of their romantic feelings felt rather sudden, and I didn’t quite understand why the two were in love.

Themes: One major thing that I think Gong did really well was convey her passion about the state of Shanghai during the time period, especially when talking about politics and colonialism. Gong would have her characters meditate on the conflict between nationalists and communists, as well as the presence of Westerners and other foreigners who don’t bother to respect or engage with Chinese culture (or language). For example, Juliette often remarked upon how she felt like a stranger in her own country, and a lot of the ways she had to navigate racism and sexism reflected that. In my opinion, these themes brought out the best in Gong’s writing, as I could tell that she was invested in them and had a lot to say.

TL;DR: These Violent Delights has an intriguing premise and a well-developed heroine, and Gong is at her best when writing about these things while pushing back against colonialism in 20th century Shanghai. However, I ultimately didn’t feel like I could get emotionally invested in the gang dynamics, the romance, or the mystery itself, mainly because of the writing style and the lack of explicit stakes.

[benichi]

MangaGamer’s annual licensing survey 2020

As usual MangaGamer has launched a survey for which games they should localize! One of the few chances for the voices of us Otoge fans to be heard, so if you enjoy Otome (or VN’s in general) you should definitely consider voting :)

You can find the survey link [here]

The following is very similar to my post last year since some of the games I suggested made the list but haven’t been announced (another year another chance!). The info at the beginning is updated though, since we’ve gotten some new releases since last time, so some things have changed.

For the people that want to look up some potential Otoge Mangagamer might be interested in the [Visual Novel database] is your best friend! I’ve already set the search to “Otome”, but you can add further filters if you want.

You may ask yourself “What kinds of games might be a good suggestion though?”. Obviously I’m not involved in localization matters, but we can look at a few things that we’ve learned over the years:

1) Rejet and Honeybee have no interest in the overseas market whatsoever. I know Dialovers is popular, it ranks high in the survey each time. But putting the fact that Mangagamer is already well aware of this popularity aside, we also know that Rejet is not particularily fond of the idea that their games might be localized. Same goes for Honeybee (Starry Sky series,…).

1.2) Vice versa companies that have had some of their games localized (Otomate, Hunex, Kalmia8, Primula…) are likely more open to give the overseas market another go. Companies that have no experience with localizaion could be hit or miss, though on the other hand everything has to start somewhere.

2) MangaGamer will only release games available for PC at this point in time.

Those are the two main points I think. Games that have a more frequent release date (I’d say after 2016) might have a bigger chance as well, ultimately that may not be the deciding factor though.

As you’ve probably guessed I’ve also done my homework this year. So if you don’t want to search through the VNDB yourself or think that there is strength in numbers here are some games that might potentially be interesting to Mangagamer in my opinion:

(Small disclaimer that all of the following info is from the VNDB website, I did not translate or take credit for any of this)

Kannagi no Mori

(Opening Movie)

The protagonist Kinami Mizuki has been able to see things that others could not since she was a child.

Her mother, who was the only family she had told her to keep it a secret from everybody and Mizuki has kept that promise. One rainy night while looking out her window Mizuki saw a person walking in the rain without an umbrella. That person looked exactly like her mother who had died three days ago. –On a rainy night, the dead will return… [continue reading]

This game has a very interesting premise. The reviews I’ve read praised its story as emotional and heart wrenching which is always good. With it’s release date in 2018 it’s also pretty new. The Developer and Publisher have not worked with the overseas market before so they might be open to the idea of a localization.

Tricolity Eyes

(Opening Movie Vol. 1)

Tlicolity Eyes is a part of “triAngle PROJECT,” a collaboration project between Otomate and Frontier Works. Each series will have 3 games released in span of 9 months for Windows under the same concept: one heroine, two heroes, and triangle love.

Tlicolity Eyes theme is entertainment industry x love comedy x triangle love. [Story] ――This is a story a bit ahead in the future. Approximately 30% of the population have a magical power and are called the “Ability Users.” It is rumored that many of ability users are shining in the world of entertainment… [continue reading]

Honestly the biggest advantage of Toriai is that Otomate and Idea Factory are involved. They’re both familar with the overseas market so they could be very interested in working with Mangagamer. I also like that the protagonists are adults working a job, since it’s a break from the often used school setting.

Majestic☆Majolical

(Opening Movie Vol. 1)

The magician Lapis is the youngest daughter of the distinguished Idocrase family. Her parent’s and four brothers are all elites with great magical power. However Lapis only has lower than ordinary magical abilities, she spends everyday at magic school getting ridiculed as the ‘Burden of the Idocrase Family’. In order to go to a higher school she challenges a certain test. The details are to gather the 'Twinkle Gem’ that is created from a strong 'feeling’ in a humans heart. And so Lapis goes to the human world in high spirits, where a bunch of hard to deal with men are waiting for her.

I’ve seen this game on Twitter a few times and found it a happy surprise that this is a PC Otoge. Like Toriai it’s split into 3 different Volumes that focus on different characters. I’m really liking the premise (Witches and magic are 👌) and the art is beautiful. Reviews also said that the MC is great which is always a plus. This is the publisher/developer’s (dazkarat) first game so they could be interested in getting more revenue from the overseas market. Also might be a good partner for the future.

Suggestion for R18 Otoge fans:

Yoshiwara Higanbana

(Opening Movie)

It’s the Edo era. Lust and desire swirls within the “other side” of the luxurious and gorgeous Shin-Yoshiwara. At the long-standing brothel called “Oukaya”, the protagonist Chihaya works as its top-ranking oiran (courtesan). In order to go back to her motherland, she enterains male strangers day and night. Her unchanging everyday life… Yoshiwara might be a small world, but to Chihaya, it’s a treasured place in which she can prove herself. The brothel’s owner, Shigure. Her servant, Yuzu. The strong-willed fellow harlots that work alongside her. Surrounded by irreplaceable people, though her line of work is called “the world of suffering”, Chihaya is proud of being a courtesan… [continue reading]

Obviously if you want some R18 content Mangagamer is the right place to ask for it. I’ve been wanting to suggest something but didn’t manage to find a good game on my own since a lot of these titles have very unpleasant themes and just generally bad plot. A lot of thanks to everyone on Twitter that helped narrow down my choice!

I’ve heard good things about Yoshiwara Higanbana, especially that the MC is proactive during R18 scenes and that the story is good. Similar as with Majestic☆Majolicalthis is the developers first game, so getting more revenue from the overseas market could interest them as well.

-

As usual these are suggestions. I can’t and won’t dictate what others vote, that choice is yours :) Whatever happens let’s hope that there might be some more Otoge releases in the future!

+ Reblogs are very appreciated, since this post is filled with links it’s not going to show up in the tags (thanks as usual tumblr)

[wings-of-indigo]

So, Waitress is closing and Why I am Happy about that: An Exceedingly long essay Rant about Broadway

Look. Nobody's gonna read this, most likely, but it's 2 in the morning and my brain's been obsessing over Broadway (more than usual, anyway) since communing with my people at intensive this week. So, in the interest of getting some sleep before 8 hrs of dance and shitty high notes tomorrow, here goes.

I love classic, high-school-and-community standard musicals. I love new and experimental musicals. I love Disney film-to-stage musicals. I love institution musicals like Chorus Line, Cats, and Wicked; I even have a soft spot for Phantom. I am eagerly anticipating West Side Story next Christmas (seriously, I have a calander).

BUT.

As I said to one of my fellow dancers during post-class stretch (after noting his insane flexibilty and making yet another resolution to stretch more) I am Sick to GoDAMnEd DEATH of revivals, franchise adaptions, and restagings taking up the Broadway and greater theater markets.

I get why it's happening; I do. Musical theater, even shows that never make it out of Regional productions (Be More Chill, btw, I'm so proud of you bby :'-D ) are REALLY FREAKING EXPENSIVE, not just to stage, but also to develop. Broadway productions nowadays regularly go upwards of TENS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS in costs.

Those costs are more and more frequently being met through funding by large groups of wealthy investors, who can expect basically little to no return on that investment. Only a select few shows that make it to the Great White Way do well enough to turn a profit (let alone the kinds of numbers that Hamilton, DEH, and Wicked continue to make), and more and more shows are closing in defict or once they break even. (Coincidentally, this is probably why we're seeing more and more straight plays on Broadway, especially in limited engagements. They're quicker, cheaper, and still have the same level of prestige.)

It makes sense then to assume that a show linked to an already successful property has a better chance of reaching that break-even mark, or perhaps generating a small return, than a more original idea. It's a surer bet, and we've seen it a lot these past few seasons. Anastasia, Beetlejuice, Pretty Woman, Moulin Rouge, Mean Girls... we get it. We promise. Investors want some security in an extremely and notoriously insecure market before they're willing to lay out the dough.

I get it. Everybody gets it.

And, to be fair, some of those shows are and continue to be GOOD. Tony nominees and award winners, even. But here's the problem: it's boring.

And not because I know how Act 2 ends without getting spoilers on tumblr. Unless they're younger than ten, the population of Broadway-and-musicals fans generally has a good handle on where a show's relevant plotlines are going. It's really not the wanting to know the end that keeps your butt in your overpriced red velvet seat and your eyes on the stage. It's the score, the words, occasionally the choreography, and most importantly the magicians on, off, and backstage bringing those things to life in a new and interesting way.

The antithesis of this, then, is having to watch slavish recreation of iconic scenes, lines, and characters from iconic films, presented Onstage! (TM), now with Bonus Songs! for your reconsumption. (Yes, Pretty Woman, I'm looking at you.)

Hey, I love Pretty Woman the Movie, slightly dodgy messages about feminity aside. I love it as a movie, and I really don't need to watch the knock off version of it, even if it comes in a shiny Broadway package.

Anastasia, and Beetlejuice, on the other hand, work extrodinarily well as musicals because they are NOT carbon copies of the original, somehow miraculously transplanted onto the stage.

Ironically, musicals based on original ideas are actually some of the most successful and well reviewed recent productions. Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, Come From Away, and Hadestown this season are all original works, and well, look at them. (Fishy, huh? Coincidence, I think the fuck not.)

Recently I got to see The Prom on Broadway, the day after I saw Pretty Woman. The contrast between shows and my enjoyment of them was well defined. I couldn't look away from The Prom, despite many of the major story beats being as obvious as our Cheeto-in-Chief's spray tan. I and the entire rest of the theater were completely engaged by what was going on onstage, both comedically and dramatically. At Pretty Woman, I found myself checking the Playbill to see how many songs were left for me to make it through and anxiously comparing the size of my thighs to the dancers onstage to pass the time (ah, pre pro Body Issues, welcome back! We all thought you'd retired!)

Three guesses which show I'd choose to see again.

When I read that Waitress was closing, the first thing I did was panic and start marking pre January weekends where I would both be free and possibly have disposable income (I've never gotten to see the show, and frankly I would like too). My second reaction was, yes, to mourn the closure of a wonderful show, but it was mixed with hopeful anticipation. Waitress had a good long time in the sun, and just like a well lived life, eventually it must and should end. It's better, in my humble student opinion, to live with memories and cast albums (and regional productions) than the stodgy life of a show that's jealously clung to its Broadway berth through the tourist-and-date-night trade (*cough*Phantom*cough*). It's sort of like your 40 something mother taking selfies in booty shorts in an effort to prove she's still 'hip' and in her twenties. Cringe.

Ephemera is the nature of live performance, and probably part of its allure. And just like in the natural world, old things have to end so that new things can become. Waitress closing is a vital part of this cycle.

Broadway has a limited number of theaters. That's a hard and absolute fact. Maybe a quarter of them are effectively taken off the market for new shows by productions apparently cursed with immortality. Waitress has just opened up another spot both physically and creatively for a new project- hopefully something we haven't seen before- and I hope to God, Satan, and Sondheim that it doesn't get filled with another franchise spinoff, celebrity jukebox musical, or -Lin Miranda forbid - yet another revival.

Why the revival hate, though? Aren't revivals an major way to revisit the landmark and important musicals of the past and bring them to a new audience?

Well, yes. They are, especially when they're staged and presented with the emphasis on letting the music and words speak for themselves and giving the actors leeway to work with the material, without the typical levels of Broadway Extra (TM) and creative meddling from the producers. (The recent Lincoln Center staging of A Chorus Line is a good example of the stripped down style I'm talking about.) But even if they have their place, once again, revivals (while valuable and cool and all that) are Something We've Already Seen.

Let's take Newsies for example. A show with a huge fan base (mostly teen, mostly girls) who I frequently see wishing for a revival.

Now, I am a raging Newsies fan. Newsies is the show that got me started on attempting to make a profession out of dance and theater. I can sing both the OBC and Live albums back to front. I may or may not have had embarrassing crushes on certain cast and characters that I will take to my grave (I'll never tell and you'll never know, mwahhaha). So, do I love and worship ever iteration of this show? Yes. Do I wish I had been able to see either the Natl Tour or Broadway productions? Hell yes, with all my heart. Do I wish the Gatelli choreography was in any way accessible for me to learn? More than I want Broadway tickets to cost less than my soul, kidney, and hypothetical but unlikely first born combined.

But do I want a Broadway revival? Hell FUCKING No.

It's over, it's done, and it lives on in reinterpretation in regional and junior productions. Good. That, to be quite honest, is where it should belong.

It doesn't need to be rehashed on the biggest stages, and to be frank, neither do most of the ultra popular revivals that have been happening. (Yes, Ali Stoker is awesome and deserves the world, but Broadway does not need Oklahoma. If you need to see it that bad, go find a high school production somewhere. I recommend the midwest.) Broadway does not need 1776 (even though I am looking forward to it). Broadway does not need a Sweeney Todd revival (even though I want one like I want ice cream after suffering through jazz class in an un-air-conditioned studio on a 90 degree afternoon with no breeze. Seriously, I might be making sacrifices at my altar to this cause in the back of my closet).

Broadway needs musicals that are at least nominally original, and if not, come from something obscure enough (Kinky Boots, Waitress, Newsies) that they can make their own way. Barring that, investors, writers, and directors, please have the courage and decency to take established content in a new direction. Please, I'm begging you. I'd honestly-and-truly much rather sit through something that didn't try to shove the better version of itself down my throat even as it bored and annoyed me to tears. If I'm going to pay $80+ to sit through two hours of something terrible (and less engaging than my dancer body image issues) at least let me get my money's worth in unique horribleness.

[derieri]

Sins of Abstinence - Preview

In another world, Merlin chose a side. 

It’s the first scene of the demon!Merlin AU I’ve been waiting for since 2016, which I finally decided to buck up and write for myself. The end word count will probably be about 15k, and I need some motivation to finish it! 

Feedback and hearing if other people are excited about it would probably be a game-changer, so tell me what you think!!!!

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

“So… what’d you call ‘em again?”

“The Ten Commandments,” Meliodas repeated, looking over his four companions. Criminals, every one of them, accused of vile crimes and sentenced to death until he recruited them. Diane, King, Ban, and Gowther. In Liones they were known as the Horsemen. After his stint as the commander of Danafor’s Holy Knights, one might think this was strange company for Meliodas to keep. But really, his companions were the same as they had always been: terrible people doing terrible things in the name of redemption.

“Riiiight. And they’re all stupid powerful.”

“The Demon King’s best warriors,” King added in an anxious voice. Meliodas nodded.

“Yep. But there’s a few I’m worried about in particular.” He shuffled the papers spread in front of him; King hovered over his shoulder to look. The drawings weren’t perfect likenesses after being filtered through three thousand years’ memories and his miserable art skills, but he’d managed to capture the demons’ distinctive traits. He laid out three pages and explained them one by one.

“Estarossa’s tricky, you can’t let him fool you. He is my brother, as is Zeldris. He’s next in line for the throne.” His finger tapped the drawing with a spray of spikey black hair, round cheeks, and a dark glower. “Then, there’s Merlin.” He brushed Zeldris aside to expose a sketch of a mature woman.

“Is she your sister?” Diane leaned in through the window to ask. He shook his head.

“Nope, she was human.”

“Human?” Ban said. “Thought you said they were demons.”

“She’s different. In more ways than one,” he added. “She’s not a Commandment, but she’ll come too, if she’s able. The others will be weaker when they break free, but not her. I sealed her separately. And she’s been leeching off my power for the last nineteen centuries. I have no idea how strong she’ll have gotten, but I’m sure she’s formidable.” Around him, the Horsemen had gone oddly silent. He looked up at them. “What?”

“Captain, you almost sound… proud of her,” King said. Meliodas sighed and let his eyes slide shut.

“I do, huh? Well.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his neck. “She’s probably mad as a spitting cat, and I don’t blame her. Point is, leave those three to me, alright?”

“… Sure, Captain.”

**-**-**-**-**

When the Horsemen had gone from the back room of the Boar Hat, Meliodas remained there alone, looking down at the drawings of his siblings. His fingers drifted over their faces. In his mind’s eye, all three of them are still just children. Estarossa, round-faced and eager; Zeldris, hungry to prove himself against his brothers; Merlin, as she was when he first met her, a sullen waif with her face streaked by ash. Gods, he was an awful older brother. Still, for Zeldris and Estarossa, he could tell himself that they were doomed to darkness from the start. Merlin, on the other hand—

Merlin was all his fault.

*** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** ***

“Meliodas!” An enthused cry was the only warning the prince of demons received before a young girl plowed into him at full force. He pulled up short, allowing her to wrap her arms around his thighs in a pathetic sort of hug. Gods, she was an excitable child. He’d never been this undisciplined—but then again, he wasn’t human.

“Merlin,” he greeted her blandly. “You seem… energized.”

She pulled away from his legs to look up at him, a bit more composed now but obviously in a good mood.

“I finished copying the scroll you gave me! Would you like to see it? And may I have another just like it?”

A small huff escaped between his lips. She was developing admirably. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was proud of her in a way—after all, he’d assumed responsibility for supervising her training. But he couldn’t take all the credit. Merlin possessed a raw talent for magic unlike any other he’d seen, her innate Infinity ability aside. It made her useful, remarkably so for a human.

“So soon? Not bad. I’ll look it over when I’m finished with the mission today. And I’ll prepare another for you as well.” She pouted and opened her mouth to complain, but he stopped her short. “Patience, Merlin. I can send for a tutor, if you’d like.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste, as he’d expected it would. Between her uncanny talent and ornery behavior, she went through teachers like other children did sweets, exhausting their materials and their wits in a matter of hours. When he discovered that the fruitless lessons acutely annoyed her, he arranged lessons with the most mediocre scholars he could find and told them that she was a dunce. He got a great deal of amusement from watching Merlin’s frustration build until she snapped and chased them off with her unbridled ire.

“I guess I can practice what I already learned,” she sighed.

“Progress is progress. Practice will still do you well.” He gave her a patronizing pat on the head. “You’re far superior to any other human, at the least. Take pride in that.”

“I’m far above everybody. Even the teachers you get me don’t know as much as I do, just you and Gowther!”

“Talk is cheap, Merlin,” he said sharply, his eyes now dark and stern. He removed his hand from her head, dusting off his palms as he straightened up. “If you think you’re better, you better be able to prove yourself. You’ve already gotten yourself into trouble once that way.”

When he found her in Belialuin several years ago, he knew immediately that his father would want her. Revealing her existence to the Demon King made the perfect distraction while Meliodas explored his nascent emotions. He never imagined that she would try to con both gods for their power, but the spectacular backfire ended up being to his advantage. It was simple to woo her to his side when everything she knew had been obliterated, and easy to control her with reminders of her arrogance and promises of strength.

Her eyes darkened, slipping straight pass sorrow into bitter anger, then sharpened with resolve.

“I’ll do it! I’ll learn everything there is and be the best magician ever known. Good enough to kill anybody I want, demons or any other race.”

Ah, he liked that. Perhaps she would even be able to match even the winged monsters that called themselves holy archangels. But he would never say so: her head was big enough as it was. With a sly, almost malicious grin, he gave her another gentle pat on the head.

“Will you, now? Humans don’t live for long. In the end, time will be what does you in. Unless you find a way to kill that first.” He held back a snicker. “Only the greatest of mages manage that. It’s stuff of legends. Prioritize your work.”

“How long do humans live? I know we—they get hurt really easy, but…”

He shrugged. The details of a human life meant almost nothing to him: he only cared about it insofar as much as he could end it early.

“A century or two. Far too long for my tolerance. But if you end their lives short, they’re somewhat more bearable. So, you have perhaps two centuries to figure out how to extend your life long enough to be worth much. Whether you manage it is up to you.”

“It would be a lot easier if I was a demon,” she pouted. Meliodas only sneered.

“Obviously. But proceeding without struggle would only make you weak.” He paused to consider his words. “Weaker,” he amended, and she didn’t quite manage to restrain her flinch. Good. She could always use an ego check. No time like the present to remind her that her species’ nature was to mewl and cower, not keep pace with titans like himself.

“The King has no use for weakness. You’re fortunate to have been welcomed here after your gluttonous tricks. You would do well to ensure that He does not regret giving you a second chance.”

What happened to her was of no concern to him. She was a tool, a ploy to keep his father’s eyes off him while Meliodas got to know that goddess. If the volatile Demon King decided her petulance wasn’t worth it, he would end her— and oh, how easy it would be. But Meliodas had taken a liking to Merlin despite himself. If she had to die, then she’d have to die, but it would be quite a shame for her to end so quickly.

*** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** ***

Meliodas was the one who found her in Belialuin—an intelligent and, more importantly, powerful human that could swing the tide of the war. She was an ornery and ballsy little creature who knew the boundaries she crossed and didn’t really give a damn regardless, but it wasn’t hard to woo her to the Demon Clan once he introduced Gowther. She was thrilled to demonstrate her power to the King by freezing Zeldris in a block of ice.

He discovered that she was intelligent, exceedingly so for a creature of so few years. She could not keep up with a demon physically nor match their sheer power, but she made up for the deficit with her cleverness and razor-sharp instinct.

She grew quickly, as humans do, into a young woman with the heart of a snake. Her ego was still large, but she had potent magic power and a heap of cunning with which to back it up. Cunning enough to survive the dozens of battlefields where the Demon Clan warred in the decade that followed his defection. Cunning enough to flee the Coffin of Eternal Darkness before it was fully wrought, and cunning enough to disappear where none could hunt her down.

At first, he thought to let her go. She wasn’t evil, he told himself. Any influence the Demon King impressed on her was partially his own fault, too—his father wouldn’t even know of her existence if he’d kept his own damn mouth shut. She had been his bargaining chip, the proof of his loyalty in the precipitous years before he fled. And then he’d abandoned her in the lion’s den. His guilt kept him from pursuing her too doggedly.

That was his first mistake.

[solaceofthegods]

🎪 the basics:

name: Grim Locust (previously Proud Rose) age: Mid-Thirties race: Hellsguard Roegadyn gender: Female sexuality: Homosexual martial status: Single server: Balmung

🎪 physical appearance:

hair: White, cropped short and fluffy. However she owns a variety of wigs she’s known to wear on a day-to-day basis eyes: Rose height: 7 fulms 3 ilm build: Stocky with steep curves- she is usually corseted  distinguishing marks: A heart shaped birthmark by her eyes (it is actually just makeup, but she’ll insinuate otherwise) common accessories: Jewelry, staves 

🎪  personal:

profession: Performer, clown hobbies: Lazing about, makeup artistry languages: Common residence: Twelveswood- the troupe she works for is known to travel as needed across the reigon birthplace: Ul’dah patron deity: Agnostic, Grim cares very little of any of the twelve fears: Facing accountability for her actions, Failure

🎪  relationships:

spouse: None children: None parents: Humble Hollow (alive), Admired Horizon (alive) siblings: Several elder brothers- all of which are alive (and smaller than her) pets: None

🎪  traits:

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

🎪  additional information:

smoking habit: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

🎪 possible hooks:

CLOWN & ELEMENTAL ILLUSIONIST:

After leaving her home in the Goblet due to... less than savory reasons, Grim Locust left Thanalan entirely until she came across a performing troupe known as the Gasoine Brothers & Co., where she was enlisted into. In her previous life she was still a magician and performer, but now works as a clown. Many in the wood come to see Grim & the troupe perform.  

WANTED OUTLAW:

Unknown to most, Grim Locust- or much rather, Proud Rose- is wanted by the Brass Blades for a multitude of crimes; the summoning of Voidsent (which rampaged and massacred many at an event), illegal practice of Black Magic, and attempted murder of her childhood mentor. Mercenaries may be enlisted in bringing the criminal in.

NOTE: I am currently not to have Grim be captured at this time, and would like her to have more character development before attempts to bring her in are made. That being said, those looking to line their pockets with more coin with her capture may lurk around or try to befriend her. In general we will have to talk this over if you’d like this to be their hook.

WOMAN OF TASTE:

Grim Locust was raised as the daughter of wealthy Ul’dahn merchants, and has never been left wanting for anything. She has an impeccable taste for the fashion and arts and appreciates others who do the same. Those who have the desire for the finer things in life will immediately capture Grim’s attention.

what I’m looking for:

Plots, slice of life, friends- pretty much anything! I participate in In-Game, Discord, and Tumblr rp, so just let me know which you prefer/which would work best for your own schedule and we’ll work something out! I love talking about the troupe I’ve made for her and will probably do anything to have them make appearances during our interactions.

oocly, I am:

a weenie. 25+ and will not talk to/rp with minors. I am in CST timezone and work a fulltime 9-5 job, as well as have other obligations and hobbies, so I can’t always guarantee prompt replies unless we schedule an In-Game rp session. Ooc well-being always takes importance to Catgirl Online Rp, so I’m never really in a rush to get replies/anything.

I also have severe anxiety (which I do get treatment for, but at times it’s still very much so Still There) and can be very socially exhausted from work, so while I don’t mind being the one to reach out and schedule things/plot or talk about headcanons considering my schedule can be … cramped, I do appreciate it a lot when others put in the effort to come to me to do what’s listed. ;w; It’s nice to feel wanted.

you can contact me via:

here via asks or messenger, on my main @the-rosehouse or if we’re mutuals, feel free to ask for my discord! o/

[themagiciansreccenter]

Author Spotlight: greywash

Every week we are going to be interviewing a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.

First things first, tell us a little about yourself.

Hi, I'm greywash! I usually go by Gins, I'm 37, I'm an engineer, and I live with my beta/writing and queerplatonic life partner HBBO (havingbeenbreathedout) in the cheap(er) seats outside San Francisco.

How long have you been writing for?

I apparently "wrote" and "illustrated" a story for my mom about a dragon who forgets his best friend's birthday when I was three, so. It's been a minute. I kill fewer crayons these days.

What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?

Well... basically, I followed @longnationalnightmare in from another fandom, and a few people on my Tumblr dash were reblogging gifsets, so I originally watched the show basically just for more context. (The threeway. By "more context," I mean "the threeway.") Anyway, it took me about 0.3 episodes to be completely hooked: I had read the books a few years back and was ambivalent about a lot of things in them, so when I started watching the show I was expecting a lot less than I got? I'd expected a sort of silly B-show with lousy acting, and, I mean... it is frequently *very* silly, but then it turned out that the cast ranges from 'very good' to 'incredible', and the interpersonal dynamics are *fantastic*, and those are both pure fannish bait for me. The show's not perfect, but they fixed a lot of my problems with the books, a lot of which lived on a character development level... I think the show really has done some incredible work with Quentin, especially; and also with depictions of complex, liminally-sexual queer friendships, like the relationship between Margo and Eliot, which I feel like I've never encountered represented this well in any other visual media source, ever.

Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?

Ooh, that's hard. Eliot is just my hands-down full-stop favorite character, but there's always that tricky question of "who is your favorite character to write *in the point of view of*" versus "who is your favorite character to write *about*," especially when you have a relationship or relationships you're really invested in (for me, the asymmetrical Quentin/Eliot/Margo triad). When I want to write stories that are love letters to Eliot Waugh, which is often, then I want to write from Quentin or Margo's point of view, because when I write Eliot's point of view, I am inevitably writing love letters to one or the both of them.

Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?

Well, since I came into the fandom during the post-S3 hiatus—I started watching the show in October—just by default that's where most of my work is grounded, so far.

Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?

Oh boy, I sure am! I have a lot of work to do on my 39 Graves fic, and then I still have, hm, probably another... twenty or thirty thousand words, ish? On "The Marriage Plot," which is the sequel (...sort of) to "Firebird" and also my sort of... emotional raison d'fanfic, for The Magicians. It's sort of a, uhh... well, let's call it an un-arranged-marriage fic, is the best way I can think of to put it.

How long is your “to do list”?

Oh gosh. It's atrocious, but it's also not all for /The Magicians/. There's "The Marriage Plot," but I also have a long-running /Sherlock/ WIP that got toootally hijacked by me suddenly desperately needing to write hundreds of thousands of words about Eliot and Quentin not getting married, and so I'm just getting back into that; and then I have 39 Graves. I also still owe my partner a /Sneaky Pete/ storylet and have two other outstanding prompts from the summer, one for /Lewis/ and the other for... I.... totally don't remember! /The Good Place/, I think? I saved it around here somewhere. On top of that, I'm doing fan_flashworks bingo over on Dreamwidth, and I don't want my entire bingo card to be "The Magicians," though so far that's been somewhat difficult to resist. And I love the weekly prompt idea that the Rec Center and the Neitherlands Library are running for S4! I had a blast writing for the "Identity" prompt and am looking forward to this week's as well. Well, at least I write fast.

What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?

I think I have to say "Firebird," because I haven't finished "The Marriage Plot," and who knows how that'll go; but they're so inextricably linked in my mind it's hard for me to think of "Firebird" as like—its own separate thing? I guess I can say that "Firebird" was really uncomfortable in places to write, so I'm proud of myself for getting it done without flinching away from all the, like, body horror and murder and super dubious consent; and I think it does what I want it to do. We'll see how I feel when I finish "The Marriage Plot."

Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?

Well, I definitely haven't been here long enough or written enough stuff to have that feeling, but—let's say "The Get Down," which is just a little bonbon about Margo and Eliot being best friends and banging a psychic. I love themmmmm~ ~ ~

What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?

I'm not particularly superstitious about writing, but I am hugely invested in my writing routine—I'm a write-every-day person, and I do mean 'every day'; I'm on a 2,179 day streak on 750words.com—that's a little shy of six years. People are usually horrified when I admit this, but: I get up at 5:15 in the morning seven days a week so that I can put on headphones and write for at least an hour and often more like two before work, or whatever it is that I'm doing that day. (I also go to bed at like.... eight forty-five. I am a party animal.) I also very frequently write on my lunch breaks and have the excellent fortune to live with my writing partner, so we spend loads of time writing on the weekends and talking about fiction. This is literally the life of my dreams, but you have to be a very specific kind of obsessive weirdo to feel that way, I think.

Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?

I am too much of an egg in this fandom to have an answer to this one yet, I think. :) I probably wouldn't start a longfic during the season, but shortfic, sure, why not?

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?

"Firebird," because of all the aforementioned body horror and murder and super dubious consent. I am a delicate flower, who happens to be fascinated with narrative about people confronting their personal monstrousness. It's a tough row to hoe, man.

Are there any themes or tropes that you like particularly like to explore in your writing?

For /The Magicians/, the particular dead horse that I love to flog is Fillorian marriage, and the implications that forced fidelity have for consent; and also just for how intimacy *works*, within a marriage or a long-term relationship where that sense of choice, of choosing and being chosen, is so much of what lends richness to the relationship.

Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Nonfannishly: Georgette Heyer, Sarah Waters, Herman Melville, Miranda July. Fannishly.... whoo boy. In /The Magicians/, I'm still catching up on all the great stuff that people have written! @longnationalnightmare , @adjovi , @achray , @shmazarov, @numinousnumbat , and @ohmarqueliot are some of my favorites so far... in other fandoms: gosh, where to even start, I've been in fandom for 20+ years, we could be here a while. I guess since we're on the subject (sort of) of the monstrous, I reread @1001cranes ' "disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage" the other day and was just as floored by it now as I was... gosh, was that really seven years ago? Well, it's evergreen, go read it again. @septembriseur for fiction about altered consciousness. @drawsaurus for the interplay between warmth and brittleness and humor and darkness. @helenish for her endings. @havingbeenbreathedout for the interplay between sex and story, and basically everything else as well.

What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Right now, I have open on my laptop: (1) @astolat 's "And I Alone Have Escaped to Tell You [which I've read before], (2) @ohmarqueliot 's "Reaching in the Dark" [which I haven't started], and (3) what is, in context, the most ironic thing *ever*: a handbook on strategies for managing ADHD. What? Don't judge me.

What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?

Basically that learning to write is just figuring out how to ask yourself "What are you trying to do with this _______?" (comma, word, line, paragraph, chapter, story), and then figuring out how to answer. (Thanks, Dad!)

Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?

Oh, I mean—I'm pretty okay with even the totally predictable bits of my narrative voice, I don't stress about it too hard anymore, but yes, there are a bunch of words I *know* I overuse. Especially since I'm a little bit blind to repeated words if I'm reading and not listening to my work read aloud, which—I try to do at least one pass where I get my computer to read to me when I'm editing, but I need to have both time and focus to make that work, both of which, I find, are often in short supply. "Tells"—he tells her, she told him—is *the worst*; I'm always looking for it my brain just skips over completely, it's like it's not even a word for me anymore.

What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?

Oh dear. I'd been in fandom for several years before I started writing, but as I recall, the first thing I actually wrote was an exceptionally overwrought and tragic Snape POV Remus/Sirius story. I have no idea what happened to it and I'm almost certainly happiest that way.

Self-edit or Beta?

Both!

Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes?

All are delicious.

Smut, Fluff or Angst?

Smut.

Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn?

Quick and dirty on the sex and slow burn on the feelings.

Favourite season?

Season Two

Favourite Episode?

Cheat Day

Favourite book?

The Magicians

Three favourite words?

lovely, devastating, yearning

Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.

[samsevenwrites]

note: the fic is twice as long as I expected, so I hope the “read furter” will work, if it doesn’t, I’m really sorry! It’s also my own translation from French, so sorry for the mistakes (and the dull ending, it had to stop!).

“These witches are really disconcerting creatures!”

Although he did not take part in the discussion, Corvo approved in petto the Baron Falero’s observation. For his part, he would have added that, at least, those of the Lodge were peaceful, but the man simply passed the group of aristocrats, continuing along the corridor, his hand away from the grip of his gun.

Farther away, among clinking glasses, audiograph players, and laughter, the Royal Protector heard a similar conversation, little surprised by the interest the witches aroused.

The evening was still young; the glimmers of the end of the day made the particles shine in the air, mixing silver dust and gold mist, the tables supported huge plates of greasy and heavy food, the pyramids of champagne glasses waited for gourd hands to dismount them, the servants and the guests were not yet drunk, but still: the names of the sorceresses had already bewitched all the tongues.

Because, indeed, what disconcerting creatures they were!

The Lodge’s sorceresses, by chance, were very different from their Brigmore fellows: instead of inspiring fear, they preferred to arouse curiosity by using more fascinating than terrifying magic.

In Dunwall, they were also known for their taste for mystery, wearing it as ladies adorn themselves with jewels, and, proud, they colored their lips with red and secrets.

But then, if the witches of the Lodge wanted to be riddles, why could the guests so easily guess their identity at the Boyle’s masked ball that night?

The irony had not escaped Corvo whose grin, concealed by his raven mask, became more pronounced as he passed near two women. They were surrounded by a few nobles, all hanging onto every word, unable to see the lips hidden by splendid masks: the first was the almost perfect representation of the head of a magpie, and the dark feathers with marine reflections imitated the delicate silk of the tailor. On the bust, to imitate the chest of the bird, lace was piled up and swelled, soft and rich at the same time, and a long stiff tail lay under the back of the guest, reminding the one of these thieving birds.

Her waist was surrounded by the arm of her neighbor, who was wearing a jacket with bronze puffy sleeves, speckled with white, matching the owl mask of terrifying realism. Feathers covered from her shoulders to her loins, the savagery of the animal mingling with the delicacy of the garment, echoing the perfect contrast of these witches.

Sheala de Tancarville and Philippa Eilhart, as rulers of the Lodge, attracted the young ladies who dreamed to play with spells, so they gathered around these two enchantresses, while the Royal Protector preferred to outdistance.

Corvo had never exchanged more than a few regards with Sheala, as she was so reserved, but Philippa had paid many visits to the Dunwall Tower, but neither Emily nor Corvo were fooled: this witch had a passion almost morbid for politics, and she did not seek the Empress’ friendship; she was looking for a place near the throne.

This approach did not surprise anyone, just like the Empress’ tolerance of the Lodge, as long as it did not commit any crime; the chapter of the occult was not a taboo subject under the reign of Emily Kaldwin.

It would have been to forget the fact that the Royal Protector himself had on his hand an esoteric tattoo—

Moreover, to prove her peaceful intentions, Philippa Eilhart carefully chose the name of her circle, insisting on the Lodge of sorceresses, and not witches.

Of course, it was not enough to calm the anger of the Overseers, and luckily the attitude of the Empress was not the only bulwark against the Abbey of the Everyman: there were also rumors that ensured that some of the magicians helped the poor for a crust of bread.

As he walked away, Corvo felt over his back the round, yellow eyes of the fake owl for a moment, feeling like a rat full of promise for the nocturnal animal.

Another event had cooled the ardor of the religious, much more important: the magicians of the Lodge were not simple country dweller who stained their fingers with grass and pieces of chalk, they did not use their voice for strange and harmless poems, their potions were not infusions within the reach of any apothecary— Their veins filtered a powerful magic, as had been proved during one evening, when Baron Goya had offended Philippa Eilhart.

Corvo had not attended the scene, but the testimonies were all the same: after an indiscreet question from the aristocrat, the magician’s eyes had become enormous and gilded like two cold suns. Brown and gray feathers had begun to grow on her jaw, shoulders and arms, developing with a nervous rustle. The lips then had look slimmer, had advanced to form a beak, and the transformation had only been suspended when the man had asked for forgiveness, perhaps even mercy, with profound sincerity.

This story had reminded Corvo of the legends of women with a body of birds that haunted the seas, able to seduce sailors with their song and their brutal beauty.

Finally, perhaps the authors had simply met the ancestors of the magicians of the Lodge?

Before climbing one of the marble staircases that gave access to the first floor, the Protector crossed a guest with a bust covered with long peacock feathers, so beautiful and gleaming that the absence of jewels was a good choice. Under the mask with the little white gold beak, blond locks had escaped. Corvo thought for a few moments, before remembering the name: Margarita Laux-Antille. Discrete, uninterested in the political world, she had never been to the Dunwall Tower herself, and even tonight, the young woman seemed reluctantly present. Arms crossed, she turned her back to society, to the masses of anonymous costumes. Her silver heels raised her proudly in front of the pictures she was studying, or pretended to study, drawing nearer to the verdant and natural settings so she could forget the hangings of the salons, so heavy they hid the horizons.

Out of respect, Corvo did not seek to divert her from her contemplations and left, but he still perceived, several meters away, the scents of moist hyacinth, as if they haunted him.

His pace was measured, so much so that at the moment of reaching the landing of the floor, Corvo almost collided with a guest much smaller than him. Under the robin mask, a soft voice apologized, but the Protector insisted on the fact it was his fault. Coral silk enveloped the witch’s throat, stretching over her cleavage in a prudish way, but this coyness was contradicted by the rich tailor that flattered the hourglass figure. The gray had never been so sensual as it was on this rounded chest, this small of the back— The silver beads scattered, attracting light on the winter fabric, making it warm.

It was Triss Merigold, the one haloed by these rumors of sympathy toward the poorer people.

Emily had already discussed Triss’ case with her father, trying to guess if this help was well-intentioned, or if it was a strategy to better betray later. Previous years had taught them to be suspicious, even miserly in confidence. So, even if it was hard to believe that a face so jolly that Triss' could be that of a treacherous woman, Corvo was distant.

In fact, there was only one witch that Corvo did not have the courage to turn down: a woman who carried moonlight on her cheeks and, in her hair, fragrances of spring.

By her strength and her reserve, this woman inspired respect, and since she had helped the family, she inspired the guard confidence.

One day in the Month of Rain, the Empress had received an ivory pendant, a present from the town of Poolwick, who had seen her buildings rejuvenate with Empire-funded work, but the gift had poisoned the Empress’ nights, plunging her into farandoles of nightmares, exhausting her, making her sick. Two weeks made Emily weak as a child, skinny as a skeleton, until the sorcerer went to the Dunwall Tower for a request. When she had begun to climb the steps of the hall, the evil magic had pierced her, and Emily’s health became a priority. The witch then had studied the cursed jewel, probing it to discover its past, how it had gone from one porter to another, to finally unveil the story of the gift: the real pendant had been replaced by a fake one engraved by an old sailor, who was half crazy because of stories of witchcraft. The piece of ivory had been broken, and its spells had been swept away by others, healthier.

The lady of Vengerberg had not asked for anything in return, and Corvo and Emily had been surprised by this selfless gesture— but also touched.

As he passed the library, Corvo was seized by this memory, by the fragrance of blooming lilac and ripe gooseberries. He closed his eyes and, almost in spite of himself, he inhaled deeply these fragrances of cold sunny aurora.

Corvo knew that he would meet the sorceresses of the Lodge at Lady Boyle’s, but to meet this one was a trial: for three successive nights, while he was unable to explain why, the raven woman had haunted his dreams. In the midnight shadows, the unknown body had become intimate and he had called her name so many times. Yennefer.

He had to make an effort to call her Lady Vengerberg, to forget the smell of her thick hair, to forget the groans in her tense throat—

In order to conceal his confusion, Corvo turned slowly, and held back a sneer: his raven mask was now facing a similar, finer, but equally elegant.

“Good evening, Lady Raven.”

“Good evening, Lord Raven.”

Among the jet-black feathers, purple irises shone brightly; amused with this pretended game of anonymity. Why break the rules of the masked ball when you had such a taste for riddles? Perhaps for the simple pleasure of being marginal. Rules are made to be broken.

The tailor of Yennefer had the color of welcoming nights, those filled with darkness that cradles tired bodies. The sleeves of the jacket were long, brushing the ground like tidy wings, leaving bare forearms. Under the white shirt, Corvo saw the complex black lace that took the shape of the body, as animated by the desire to marry her curves.

Even for tonight, even dressed, the witch had refused to display any touch of color.

Corvo had no will to leave.

As a Royal Protector who refused to dance, Corvo was only patrolling at the same rhythm of the hands of the clocks, languishing in the morning and his bed. Perhaps the hours would pass faster with this other bird?

Yennefer raised her thin hand, and brushed the fluffy texture of the twin face that remained static.

“This mask suits you better.”

She was the only guest who kept her hair loose, with provocative loops of freedom. Corvo tried to ignore the torture that was burning in the hollow of his stomach. Cautious, he replied in a whisper:

“You’re a lady who has a sense of style, so I trust your judgment— but my enemies don’t have that quality, then I doubt they can appreciate this mask.”

“That’s a shame. Since I don’t intend to become your enemy, I can’t even do you that honor.”

He heard her smile, remembered with ease the thin lips, almost sharp.

Apart from an old baron who was sleeping in a large armchair and two young men talking in an alcove, the library was empty.

“You’re not accompanied by a sister? It seemed to me that crows were more sociable—”

“I see my associates twice a week, which is already too much. As long as I don’t approach the plates of oysters during the evenings, they leave me in peace.”

What’s the link with oysters?

“You didn’t let your nestling take flight, tonight?”

She knows that the Empress is never invited to Lady Boyle’s annual party, does she want me to be the first to break the rules?

“She’s a nocturnal bird, it’s true, but she still doesn’t support cages.”

“Then you’re no different: I watched you fly from one point to another since the beginning of the evening.”

Sure of her, Yennefer wrapped her arm around Corvo’s, and walked quietly to one of the big windows, used as doors that gave access to a little balcony.

The sounds of instruments coming out of the audiograph players were getting so distant, the masked faces were already forgotten, and when the window was closed, Dunwall was nothing but a backdrop. The balcony overlooked a few small roofs, insignificant because they were too low; the perch was hoisted only to offer a view of the distant sea.

The horizon was mauve, right above the black waves that were ready to swallow the sun stuck in this tired canvas.

Yennefer pulled out a case of cigarettes and offered one to his companion, who declined, refusing at the same time to remove his mask. He did not understand what this woman was looking for.

“Are you afraid someone will come to spy on us? You’re right: the curious are attracted by what frightens them.”

The witch suddenly turned and, after a quick movement of the wrist, Corvo heard a clicking from the door.

“There. We can discover our faces.”

Her palms were under the edges of the mask and they made it slide. She gradually revealed a mouth covered with faded carmine, long dark eyelashes edging eyelids shadowed with eggplant shades: she had made up as if she knew she would remove her mask before the end of the ball.

Even under twilight, her skin persisted in being livid, seeming cold.

With a sigh, Corvo imitated her and removed his bird face, feeling his cheeks regain colors, the same as those when he still lived in Serkonos, hiding the gray complexion where Dunwall had left its mark.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take one?” Proposed the magician again. “Tobacco is mixed with willow sapwood.”

Corvo did not know how and why this ingredient was added to the composition, still he preferred to stick to a Cullero cigar.

Yennefer lifted the wooden lid: six white cigarettes lined up under a copper band, just in front of a lock of gray hair tied together with an emerald green ribbon. The fingers were nimble to slide one of the cigarettes, but in her gesture, the witch disturbed the wick that came off the holster.

Before a breeze carried off this relic, the Protector leaned forward quickly and grabbed it. Deceived by the color, Corvo expected the dry texture of an elderly person’s hair, but they were as soft as a baby’s. It was not an old gray; it was the gray coat of a little mouse.

Yennefer’s eyes were wide, stunned, even when Corvo straightened up to give her the wick. A little grimace twisted her lips, then she loosened them with difficulty to articulate:

“It was useless. Nothing can go very far for the witches: there’re so many spells to catch what’s trying to escape—” She closed her fingers on the hair, and, the treasure safe in the palm of her palm, she added with a sign: “thank you, Corvo. It’s something important.”

“An amulet of protection?”

“Oh no: there’s no magic here, this lock belongs to an ugly one.”

Corvo was surprised by this answer, by this sudden melancholy look.

If he had not been there, the witch would have brought the wick to her lips, a ritual she often practiced, as evidenced by the traces of lipstick that stained the ribbon.

“In reality, it comes from a dear little swallow.”

In the violent light of dusk, Corvo swore he could see a smile. He was trying to remember a swallow suit, but no one was wearing such a disguise. Now that he thought about it, none of the witches in the Lodge had hair of that hue.

The case back in her pocket, Yennefer tapped the end of the cigarette in the middle of her palm, and the tobacco began to ignite. Then, instead of extending her hand to Corvo and offering her magic to light up the cigar, she leaned forward and shared the tiny but fiery embers. The pungent odor of the cigar mingled with the more discreet smell of the cigarette. The Protector felt the perfume of the witch clinging to the woody vapor, as if lilac bushes had grown on the tallness of hundred-year-old trees, and under the rough bark, syrupy secrets were running, seeking a mouth to plunge the weight of the sap.

Corvo would not have said that the witch was beautiful, only one woman was and would remain beautiful in her heart, yet Yennefer had a certain charm, the same as the heavy storms of Karnaca, both hot and threatening , both soft and dark.

The sorceress suddenly moved the cigarette away, blew a cloud and her mouth remained open, like ready to confess a secret. Corvo was as attentive as if he was expecting the first thunderclap, but she just merely observed:

“It’s a good thing you left your bone charms in the closet. You’ve picked them all over the place, did you not?”

“Yes, I did, during— some trips.”

“They were created by clumsy hands, the magic is impure and it’ll hurt you in the long run, some of the charms can make you blind, others can make your bones brittle— and it’s not the worst you could have.”

“And of course, you’re the expert.”

“Absolutely.”

The handle of the window waved for a moment, then the visitor gave up, letting the two crows chat.

“And I guess you’re not going to open a shop? I could be a customer—”

“I don’t intend to open a shop, and don’t go to see Keira, she’s not as skilled as she pretends. But I could make some.”

“Why? At what price?”

“Because I need your help.”

“Is it about the witches of Brigmore?”

“No, it’s about those of the Lodge.”

The cigar had consumed itself for several minutes, and now, it eventually went out.

Yes, the witches of the Lodge were really disconcerting creatures: when the flower-covered witches sought favors from their respected Delilah, the feathers-covered one could have words, but for what? To replace Philippa Eilhart? Destroy the discreet Sheala of Tancarville?

“I saw you, Corvo, with your daughter. What you experienced in 1837 is not a secret; for many, you’ve defended the legitimate Empress, but for some, you’ve also protected your daughter.”

“Does the Lodge plan to attack the Empress?”

“No, not at all. Philippa may try to slip under her sheets, if she can’t sit near the throne, but besides it, the Empress is safe.” Yennefer plunged her hand into her pocket, and the tips of her fingers caressed the ebony case. “I need you to help me protect an other empress. To protect my daughter.”

“Witches can ‘t have— Excuse me, it was inappropriate—”

Yennefer accepted the apology, including the Protector’s surprise.

The handle was shaken again, so the witch raised her chin to one of the roofs of the Boyle’s house.

“Can you climb up there?”

“I can teleport myself.”

“Same power, different origins.” Yennefer observed as she stepped into a golden circle she had just made appear. The balcony was no longer a sufficient summit for the two black birds who found themselves, without the slightest rustle of wings, on a slope of tiles. The stone still held the heat of the day, and Yennefer folded her legs elegantly, sitting near Corvo who was not making so much.

Witnessed by the sky and silent passing birds, Yennefer told the story of the girl who had appeared in her life, the Empress who had left her crown in another world, who had been swept away by her own powers as a drowning person in the embraces of the ocean.

“So Ciri is your adopted daughter.”

“I know that Philippa covets her. I told her that Ciri had gone to another world, but this old owl is starting to have doubts—”

Elbows against his knees, Corvo remained silent. He did not know that such maternal love pulsed in this dark silhouette, and yet he could easily imagine this arm, like a wing, resting on shoulders swept by gray hair.

Yennefer was not a talkative woman; a few words expressed her affection for this little swallow, but they were sufficient as they were powerful. With the same brevity, Corvo confessed that he understood, speaking of his own strength that Emily gave him.

As the horizon darkened and the arms of the night enveloped them, encouraging the secrets to be whispered, both parents remembered their love for their respective daughters.

“We’ll help you.” Finally promised the Protector. “Once Emily and I have met Ciri, we’ll think about a solution.”

Yennefer thanked him again: influenced by the signs, the witch did not believe in coincidences, and the Protector’s quickness to stoop to seize this strand of hair was auspicious.

This man had been betrayed many times, and the bitter taste of disappointment could have filled his mouth, making him drunk with anger, but Corvo had remained faithful to his principles, to his family. His black hair had ceased to hide his face, and his eyes, though dark, bore a reassuring warmth.

Yennefer continued to detail his profile when she asked:

“Have you had strange dreams lately, Lord Protector?”

The burst that shook the huge body was unequivocal, and Yennefer even let out a laugh:

“Excuse me, I think it’s my fault: witches’ dreams tend to be contagious— Well, I’ll only feel bad if they were unpleasant.”

Witches were disconcerting creatures.

Draped with secrets, they did not know the meaning of the word ‘prudishness’: Corvo did not know if it was the words of the woman or the magician who came to plant under his ribs.

The emptiness that Jessamine had left was even greater than an ocean, and Corvo loved his empress so much that he was afraid of hurting her even in death. He knew, however, that the ghost did not want a mourning, which had lasted for a decade already, should not be a heavy ball dragged to the grave.

He could live, he could love with a different way, he could remain faithful to memories, while welcoming new ones.

“Have you really bewitched me?”

“No, I haven’t. I implied that I had dreamed ‘too loud’, which is different.”

Corvo did not know what he was exposing himself to: more secrets, more revelations?

“Have you ever had sex on a stuffed ox, Protector?”

“I— must admit I haven’t.”

“And the idea does not seem to seduce you more than that,” remarked Yennefer, almost disappointed, “what about on a roof?”

This new proposition was no less strange, but the roofs of Dunwall had become, in recent years, a familiar environment.

“You’re really strange, Yennefer; the dreams I had were happening in a bed.”

“Really? So they were only from you.”

The absence of magic could have been reassuring, but Yennefer did not believe in coincidences, so she lay on the tiles with a triumphant air, gripping the Protector’s sleeve, determined to test his imagination.

[noroalia]

Uh hhey, I was wonderin.. If you had any hc for any of the other II characters families?? (Kinda weird question I guess?? I jus,, really like your hcs for Knife n Suitcase'd fam.. S'all)

:0 oh i sure do, anon! Not for every ii character, obviously, but a few! Making families and backstories is super fun………

Well first of all. I feel like i gotta explain the rest of Suitcase’s family? She has one aunt and two uncles, from Ace’s side, as well as her aunt’s wife.

These buds! @dottival drew this picture, their pals art is superb.. They drew this because I mix up Spades and Clubs names a lot……..

Here are also the Actual Poker Pals + Magician Hat (or simply Hats)! Hats is the aces’ parent, they’re very neat. Dot and I talk about them A Lot, the pals family is so good

Suitcase also have a Ton of aunts/uncles/cousins (16, to be exact)… thats a long story though, I won’t go into detail but man. I love those billiard kids

I’d also suggest checking out Dottie’s hc about how object babies are made, as it’s what i follow in my canon.

Knife only has his two moms, Dagger and Swiss Army Knife, but they’re more or less part of the Pals family. Chip may be afraid of knives, but darn does he enjoy hangning with those Funky Lesbians.

Knife’s full name is Kitchen Knife. Dagger was slicing watermelons and forgot to wash the knife, and woops! They have a baby now.

Dagger is the a lot more of a classic mom than what SA is. She’s the one who holds Knife, reads him bedtime stories, etc. SA has a hard time with physical affection, and trusting people/situations (a trait she accidentally passed down to Knife), due to traumatic memories and events. Dagger is more calculated and soft, while SA panics more often (example: the whole Mephone scene. She don’t trust like that). She loves her son, and Knife understands that his Ma needs space.

Apple comes from a very big family. Her parents frequently adopts kids who have a hard time getting adopted, thus making Apple have many siblings. They adopted Apple when she was around 5, and she’s pretty middle of the pack. Her family are all types of objects- some food based, instruments, tools, etc. They live on a farm out on the countryside, and Apple visits as often as she can (her younger siblings who still live there love watching II, and were rooting for Apple the entire time she was on the show). OJ had a bit of a scare when her entire family piled in the week after her elimination was shown on TV (it was a mess).

Her mom is just a tired but very kind Basket, and her dad is a hard-working Spade. They both love all of their kids equally as much, and make sure to spend as much time with them as plausible. One day I’ll be brave enough to draw all of them.

Marshmallow has a dad. He owns a little bakery in a bustling town, and he’s a very stressed Rolling Pin. Marsh was an accident; he accidentally forgot to wrap a bag of marshmallows he made for a customer’s birthday. He absolutely treasures Marsh, and definitely spoiled her a bit too much when she was a kid. Marsh was definitely a bit tumbled when she met Apple’s family for the first time…

Trophy is an only child, living only with his mom. His mother is the only reason he even went into ii- he wanted to win for her! Of course, that didn’t work out, but his mom was proud nonetheless. Trophy was her most valuable possession, so obviously she chose him to be her kid.

Balloon has two balloons as parents. They’re both extremely anxious, they’re just a little stressed family…

I am actually writing a story about Taco’s family, that I’ll probably never post, so! Taco comes from a rich but neglecting family. She has one sibling, an older brother who ran away when she was a young kid and she’s never seen him since. She has a cousin (Taco from bfb) that she rarely gets to meet outside of family reunions. Her parents never loved her, so she was pretty darn miserable. Taco started sneaking away at the age of 10, to fully run off at the age of 13, living off of stolen food. At 14 she joined a gang (oh you know…. The Poker Pals gang…..) and got herself a new family, a chosen one that is.

I have more, but these are the ones I’ve managed to develop the most. I also have some “future families” for ships like Payjay and Tacocase(loon). If you wanna know about their kids, send an ask!

[spooky-ghostwriter]

Dressed to Kill - Chapter Eighteen

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It was not exactly forty years before the conversation between Vercingetorix and Garrick on the cactus farm, but it was close enough for all intents and purposes. At that time, Garrick's primary assistant was a woman. Garrick thought back to what her name had been. Helen was what Garrick remembered, so that was what he chose to tell Vercingetorix.

Garrick kept the original dryad seed, the one that had ignited all of his research, in a small glass cube on his desk. It was a memento for him – the ultimate catalyst that had led him into the world of the impossible. Whenever his research failed to progress as quickly as he'd like, funding was low, or there was some other kind of undue stress, he could always gaze at the seed and remind himself of his greatest accomplishment.

This was one of those days. Garrick exhaled deeply. He felt his frustration subside as he stared at the seed.

To his slight embarrassment, Helen had chosen that moment to enter the office.

“You'd have something to watch if you actually planted it,” said Helen.

Garrick laughed.

“Maybe,” He agreed. He leaned back in his chair. “We're so close, Helen. The merging of animal and dryad DNA is theoretically possible. But to create a true dryad, like the ones from the legends, an insect or a mouse won't do. We need a human.”

“I know. You've said that before.”

“Ideally a child. Someone young who can adapt to the process as they grow.”

“A... child,” Helen repeated. “How old?”

“As young as possible,” Garrick said, leaning back in thought. “A newborn would be best. But even... six, no, five years old. Five would be the cutoff.”

“Garrick, you can't subject a five-year-old child to – ”

Garrick tried to keep from rolling his eyes as Helen began her speech. He caught a few words about consent and medical ethics, but for the most part it was the same boring monotony that he'd heard countless times from all sorts of people. Evidently, and to his incredible disappointment, Helen was no different. He made a note to himself about finding another new assistant.

One word in Helen's diatribe caught Garrick's attention – the word 'parents'.

Ah, Garrick thought, watching in interest as the woman tried to hold back tears at her own rant. Perhaps that's where I should start – children with no parents.

“Once I had that thought in mind,” Garrick continued, “I did what I could to find and secure an orphan child. Eventually I found one to my liking – a young boy who was abandoned by his parents so young that he didn't even know his name. I'm curious, John Doe, did you ever look into finding them?”

“I did not,” Vercingetorix managed to say. The pain in his chest had improved, but only marginally; it was now a burning sensation instead of a piercing one. “I found a new family.”

“Yes, and I was very proud of you for that!” Garrick said. He sounded oddly genuine.

“Now – do you honestly expect me to believe your story?” Vercingetorix asked. “That you implanted some seed into me forty years ago, when you look younger than me now?”

“You do realize you're holding my notes on how a girl in your employment turns into a tank, don't you?” Garrick countered. “Is it truly that hard to believe that I, a person who attained knowledge from mythical beings, was able to modify my own aging? It would certainly benefit the dryads if their emissary was not affected by the pesky human concept of age.”

Vercingetorix grit his teeth. It was easier to tolerate Garrick's story when he'd felt it was a complete lie. But when he had such a simple answer for the main hole in his story, Vercingetorix felt he had to reconsider the entire thing.

“So you planted some seed in me when I was a child, and then just let me run off to create Alesia,” Vercingetorix reiterated. “Without monitoring me or anything of that sort?”

“I monitored the seed's development over a few months,” Garrick said idly. “When I found that it hadn't actually integrated itself into your biology, I called the experiment a failure and let you go along your business. It was only recently that I found out where the dryads I revived were going, and that they were chasing after that seed. However, given that you put so much effort into seeking out the impossible, as dryads like to do, it could be that the dryad seed has affected you in some way.”

No... there's no reason to believe what this man says.

“Still skeptical?” Garrick asked. “Let me ask you this, then. What made you think that this cactus farm was suspicious? I just told you that dryads seek out other dryads. Perhaps you had a feeling – some sensation – that this farm was worth investigating? I wonder how far in advance you knew that dryads were approaching Alesia each time they came.”

Vercingetorix recalled each and every one of those events in perfect clarity. He could no longer completely deny what Garrick told him.

The look on Vercingetorix's face must have told Garrick what he wanted to hear, for he now wore a sickening smile.

“I've been thinking,” said Garrick, “Perhaps my experiment ended a little too soon. What would you say to coming back to my new and improved facility? If the seed has indeed begun to influence you, I'm curious what wonderful things I could learn about you now.”

Vercingetorix shot Garrick a stare as piercing as Garrick's own. Thinking back to this moment later, he felt that he may have missed an opportunity to get even more information, but his reaction was immediate and instinctive.

“Like hell.”

“To be honest, that's about what I expected you to say,” Garrick said, sounding crestfallen. “Still, between my progress over the past forty years and your combination with the seed not being as complete of a failure as I'd expected, I've decided that there is more I can do even without you. I've researched dryads in all of their possible forms, but I must have missed something when it comes to humanity. Humans are indeed capable of things that even I, with my knowledge gifted from the dryads, could not have imagined. I want to see just how far dryads can be advanced.”

Vercingetorix stared at the paper in his hand in horror.

“You want Tsukiko.”

“Yes, that's right. I first realized what I may have missed when I saw your other stage magician transform into a tank. Freya, was it? A shame the dryads weren't able to capture her alive as I'd wanted. But that's all right. I have you to thank for this second chance.”

The farmhouse door, a floor above, slammed open.

“Vercy!” Galen's voice cried. “Are you here? We've finished up with the cacti!”

“I see those were a failure,” Garrick said. “Oh well. It's all a learning experience, is it not?”

“Galen! Ravindra! Henry! All of you come down here!” Vercingetorix ordered.

“Oh?” Garrick asked. “I was hoping we could talk more, you and I.”

A faint wind began to blow through the basement. The papers in Vercingetorix's hand and those on the desk behind him started to flutter. Then, the wind picked up. A trail of leaves blew from what looked like out of Garrick's suit. With each one, Vercingetorix realized that less of the man was visible; he was like a jigsaw puzzle falling apart. After a dozen or so large blue leaves fell onto the wind and began to get swept away, Garrick was gone completely.

Galen hurried down the stairs, but paused in confusion as a trail of wind and leaves blew past his face.

He, Ravindra and Henry made their way down to the basement, but it was too late. Garrick was gone; the wind carrying the leaves died down as suddenly as it had picked up.

“What... was that?” Galen asked.

Vercingetorix shook his head.

“Flesh and blood, he said...” Vercingetorix muttered.

He looked at the stagehand, firebreather and mime.

“We need to get back to Alesia. Now.”

“I don't see why I'm here,” Tsukiko said in frustration.

“Because,” said Stiletto. “You don't stay still properly during shows. We need to practice.”

Tsukiko frowned, staying as still as possible as a knife flew by her ear and sank into the crates behind her. Miss Isle, standing a couple crates higher on the stack, jostled slightly at the force of the knife, but still continued to juggle her bowling pins without issue.

“Not what I meant.”

“Oh, you mean why are any of us here?” Miss Isle asked. “Like – what's our purpose in life? I think mine is to juggle stuff, personally. Yours is probably stage magic, right?”

“No,” Tsukiko said dully. She found it hard to properly express herself without raising her hands, but kept them at her sides so that Stiletto could toss a knife below her armpit.

“What I mean is, why aren't I at the cactus farm with Galen and the others?” Tsukiko asked. “Why am I here, at the circus, in this very instant?”

Miss Isle caught her bowling pins.

“I'm no philosopher,” She said, “but wouldn't that just be because Vercy didn't ask you to come along?”

“She's not wrong,” Stiletto agreed, weighing a couple knives in her hand. After a moment, she threw both with the same hand and they embedded themselves into the wood on either side of Tsukiko's throat.

“I'm serious! Why didn't Vercingetorix ask me to come along to the cactus farm?” Tsukiko cried. “Why did he bring Galen and his punchy-pants instead of me and my military vehicle?”

“Okay, first of all, I'm going to start calling Galen 'Punchy Pants' from now on,” Miss Isle promised, beginning to juggle once more. “And second of all, you can't spend all day every day killing dryads. Take a day to yourself once in a while. Sleep in, plan some magic, hang out with your snake, have Stiletto chuck knives at you... you know. Relax.”

“Besides, we're the main people who can defend the circus while they're gone,” Stiletto added.

“Maybe I should just start wearing the Tank Top by default,” Tsukiko muttered.

“I'd totally do that if I were you!” Miss Isle said. “Religalia don't work for me.”

“Oh? Why's that?” Tsukiko asked, looking up to meet her eyes as best she could without moving her head. From Vercingetorix's earlier explanation, she understood that Freya's death had affected the other performers too much for them to use Religalia, but from what she knew, Miss Isle was a recent hire who probably would have never met Freya in the first place.

“She doesn't trust herself with a tank,” Stiletto said simply.

“I do too!” Miss Isle retorted. “I just don't trust that anyone else would trust me with a tank!”

“Aw, that's not true. I'd trust you!” Tsukiko said sympathetically.

“Hey Miss Isle, how many injuries have you had this year?” Stiletto asked.

“Uh...”

Miss Isle began counting on her fingers. As she did, one of the bowling pins she'd forgotten she was juggling bounced off her head, and the other two rolled off the crate.

“Including that one,” Stiletto said.

“Well fine, if you're counting all the minor bumps and scrapes and shrapnel, it's a lot, okay?!” Miss Isle sputtered. It was hard for Tsukiko to tell if she was actually angry, for her high voice and smile-exaggerating make-up would have hid it, but Tsukiko knew her well enough by now to guess that she was joking around.

Distracted by the thought, Tsukiko nearly forgot about Stiletto's knives. One flew by her nose, and she flinched.

“Okay, we're done,” Stiletto said. “You're too daydreamy right now.”

Tsukiko was not entirely unhappy to hear this. She stepped away from the crates and turned. She had a very noticeable outline by now; nearly fifty knives had traced a near-perfect silhouette of Tsukiko in the wooden boxes.

“Why is it so hard to find people who stay still for long enough?” Stiletto asked wistfully.

“I can stay still!” Miss Isle offered, sliding off her crate perch. “Can I juggle grenades while you throw knives at me?”

“No.”

“Come on!”

Tsukiko left Stiletto and Miss Isle to their bickering and weapon tossing. As Miss Isle had suggested, she wandered to the bestiary to see Gary. She didn't see her snake in the shelter at first. She knelt down to eye level, and spotted Gary curled up in his hollowed rock hideout. The snake noticed her as well and poked its head out of hiding.

Tsukiko picked the snake out of his terrarium and draped him across her neck and shoulder. Gary relaxed, being kept warm by Tsukiko's all-too-plentiful hair, as his owner recounted her complaints and day plans.

“You know, you're a better listener than Henry,” Tsukiko said. “We should do this more often.”

Gary flicked out his tongue. Tsukiko took that as an agreement.

A few paces later, her cell phone rang. Tsukiko poked at the screen, recognizing the number.

“Yo, Galen,” she said.

“Tsuki! Are you okay?” Galen's voice asked frantically.

“Er. Yes?” Tsukiko guessed, looking to Gary for confirmation. “What's up?”

“We found some weird stuff at the cactus farm,” Galen said. “There's this guy called Garrick. He works with the dryads and he's been researching all of Alesia's acts.”

“Well, that sort of makes sense,” Tsukiko said. “Anyone working with the dryads would have to know by now that we're the ones killing their stupid plant monsters, right?”

“Yeah, but – look. As far as we can tell, Garrick is targeting you specifically. He doesn't know how the Religalia work, so he thinks you're special.”

“You say that like you don't think I'm special!” Tsukiko gasped in mock-offence.

“Yeah yeah. Just do me a favour and stay away from any plants until we get back. Vercy wants to hold a meeting. We're going to go over what we've learned and how to make sure you stay safe.”

“That's sweet and all, but is it really necessary?” Tsukiko asked. “I've fought dryads before. You saw me do it. I'm actually pretty good at it.”

“You're right,” Galen said. “Sorry. It's just that seeing all of this has really freaked me out. It's one thing for you to fight monsters, but when they're coming for you specifically... makes me worry.”

“Aw. I was worried about you too. Someone said you were fighting cacti?”

“Oh, yeah, they were a pain in the ass.”

“Hopefully not literally pains in your ass. I'm not High Healing ass injuries.”

“Luckily, no. And we're all fine, so you don't have to worry either.”

“Well,” Tsukiko said. “I'll do my best to avoid plants.” She looked down at the grass beneath her feet; the field extended for hundreds of meters in any direction. “No promises, though.”

“Yeah, you're right, I'm just being paranoid,” Galen said. “We're almost back at the circus. We'll talk then.”

A pause.

“Tsuki?” Galen's voice asked through Tsukiko's phone. “Are you still there?”

Silence.

Gary the snake slithered around the grass. The snake didn't understand why he was suddenly on the ground, even being used to Tsukiko appearing and disappearing during magic shows. He wrapped around Tsukiko's fallen phone. The battery's warmth did a good job of emulating her body heat.

“Tsuki, come on,” Galen's voice rang out through the phone. “This isn't funny.”

Gary poked up his head. His owner wasn't in any direction he could see.

“Tsuki...?” asked the phone.

“We found Tsukiko's cell phone and her pet snake near Pierre's tents.”

Jeffery placed the device on Vercingetorix's large circular desk, facing the rest of the group. Vercingetorix, Ravindra and Henry all looked at the device with grimaces on their faces.

Galen, on the other hand, looked simply empty. Even Gary, sitting on his shoulder and tickling his ear with his tiny forked tongue, did nothing to change Galen's expression.

“Stiletto and Miss Isle said they were talking just after lunch,” Jeffery explained. “Going by the length of the call between Galen and Tsukiko, it seems like she disappeared at one thirty four.”

“And no one saw anything?” Ravindra asked.

“There were no dryad sightings,” Jeffery confirmed. “Some stagehands saw Tsukiko wandering around with Gary, but that's all.”

“What of the Religalia?” Vercingetorix asked.

“Stiletto and Miss Isle said that Tsukiko was wearing her normal outfit when she was captured. They thought that might have included the Bow Tie, but we checked storage. All of the Religalia are accounted for. She must have been wearing her non-Religalia bow tie,” said Jeffery.

“That's a relief,” said Vercingetorix. “Now – ”

Galen stood, slamming a palm onto the desk.

“Is that what you care about?!” He demanded, startling the poor snake on his neck. “God knows what happened to Tsukiko and you're worried about her bow tie?!”

Henry held up his palms, motioning for Galen to sit down. He made a few more gestures, but at Galen's level of stress, he found he couldn't understand a single one.

“Henry's right,” Ravindra said. “The dryads likely captured Tsukiko, as opposed to killing her. They believe she has the ability to transform into a tank and conjure the Bow Tie's compound bow. If they were to learn that the powers come from the Religalia, and not Tsukiko herself, that's when she'd be in true danger.”

Galen looked back at Vercingetorix, trying to decide if the manager had meant the same thing. Galen saw no change in his expression, and so sat down with the same frustration with which he'd arisen.

He looked around the table, but none of the others seemed to blame him for his outburst. Each of them was silent, completely immersed in their own thoughts.

[csmicat]

I really liked The Greatest Showman! I felt like creating an old fashioned Circus au. Hope you like it!

Ouma is the showmaster, he has been dreaming of entertaining people since he was little. Growing up in a time where there were the rich and the poor, no inbetween, Ouma dreamed of using his quick thinking and hands for the perfect mix of being able to live and bringing enjoyment to all people. At the beginning of most shows, he is carried in on Momota and Chabashira’s arms.

Kiibo is the one responsible for the music direction. He came from an affair within a rich family. He had everything he desired, but he was shunned as the illegitimate child. He was picked up by Ouma after he played the accordion in a public place.

Shirogane is responsible for the outfits and make up. They have to be flashy, but also show style. She also came from a wealthy family, being spoiled since childhood. She joined the circus because she loved the acts and costumes. Ouma needed a designer and she is a prodigy when it comes to that.

Momota is the strongman. He bends metal and carries very heavy stuff. It’s not unusal for him to help out with other acts by holding one thing or another. Momota came from a poor family. His parents died early and his grandparents couldn’t do much to support him. He started working young, and most of those jobs were heavy work. That is how he developed his strength. He is very proud of his muscles and flexes needlessly often.

Harukawa is a knife thrower. She has been living in an orphanage, taking dangerous jobs since she was very young. She is a genius at handling knives. Ouma recruited her when she threw a knife very close to someone’s face as a warning.

Gokuhara came to the circus early on. He was raised on a farm and had a lot of contact with animals which he came to love. He cares for them and in turn they care for him. He effortlessly made several animals follow his lead. That intrigued Ouma. 

Hoshi has always been small. Because of this it was hard for him to find a job. When he found an ad looking for “freaks” and “strange humans” he thought “might as well.” He learned to juggle and became very good.

Shinguuji is very tall, the feature Ouma noticed first upon meeting him. Naturally Ouma thinks of making him even taller. Shinguuji uses stilts and wears a suit with a top hat. He is often in the town square, giving out flyers. Coming from a rich family which shunned him after his sister died, he figured a life in the circus would be interesting.

Yonaga grew up strictly religous. She also had a fascination with the connection between god and a human. In order to try and reach for god, she learned how to bend her body various ways. She performs as a contortionist.

Chabashira first worked as a bartender, as she wouldn’t be able to get more fitting jobs as a woman. The drinks she had to mix were ridiculous. One of them was called the “Dragonbreath” which allegedly causes people to breath fire. Chabashira learned to actually breath fire in order to intimidate male customers who were harassing women. She was discovered and recruited by Momota.

Yumeno worked as magician on a small stage, but the pay wasn’t enough to live comfortably. Chabashira recruited her shortly after she was to be laid off.

Saihara is really good in chapeaugraph, which is the act of taking a simple cloth and forming several different hats out of it. He and Akamatsu have known each other for a long time, when Akamatsu was recruited, so was he.

Akamatsu is an acrobat. She works mostly with the trapeze together with Amami. She comes from a long line of acrobats. Her name was already famous before. Her family died in a trapeze accident, but she continues their legacy.

Amami works as acrobat, as well. He and Ouma have known each other for a while, seeing as Amami was a member of Ouma’s “kid circus” DICE. They dreamed of their own real circus and some of them lost contact, but Amami and Ouma are doing everything they can to bring the rest of DICE back.

Toujou is an acrobat using the aerial silk. She grew up in small rich family, getting education and learning various skills. After a visit to the circus, Toujou wanted to be a part of that. She left her home and joined a small circus, practicing, before Ouma recruited her.

Iruma has always done weird stuff in order to get money, but when Yumeno found her swallowing a sword, her career started kicking off.

[lena-went]

La Beatitudine di Tre

                                              THE BLISS OF THREE

F: When she graduated law school she was adamant that we should not celebrate until she passed the bar. It took everything in me to not shower her with gifts and adulations but I managed to stave off my desire to praise her. I was so immensely proud of her. She took the New York bar a few weeks ago and would be getting the results today. She had intended to practice in New York City at a major law firm but the more we talked about it the more she wavered. She had begun using phrases that implied she didn’t want to move to the city. This evening I had confronted her about it, insisting that she pursue what she had set out to accomplish. She fought me on it and the conversation took an angry turn in which we both ended up raising our voices. I in insistence and her in frustration.

Suddenly she began to cry and I regretted saying anything. Her tears were the last thing I wanted. She had been crying a lot lately, at the drop of a hat. The pregnancy hormones hit her especially hard towards the end of the first trimester and now in the middle of her second. Her belly had grown substantially in the last few weeks and she could no longer hide her condition. As she sat on the floor of our living room and cried my heart stung in regret.

“I am sorry my love, I just…I know how hard you have worked, I want nothing more than for you to be happy.”

“I am happy Freddy, I’ll tell you if I’m not…trust me. I just need to breathe for a minute, the pregnancy, the idea of moving our family to New York City, everything with Hannibal…it’s all been so much. Not to mention our wedding, if we ever have the time.” Her crying softened and she giggled through a sniffle at the end of her sentence.

I knelt down beside her, pulling her into an embrace in which I kissed the shell of her ear before running my thumbs over her cheekbones while cradling her tearstained face.

“I understand, but…I want you to know, I am…so incredibly proud of you. You are so impossibly clever and kind, you deserve whatever you want…and I never want to be in the way of that. I know you love me, in fact it is because I know you love me that I worry. I know you would do anything for me. If you do not want to move I understand, I will support and stand by you for whatever decisions you make. Where you go, I go.” I spoke with certainty and confidence.

She nodded and kissed me softly before pulling me down to lie next to her on the floor. I put my head in the crook of her neck and nipped affectionately on the skin there. Her fingers moved languidly through my hair as she breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling in a mesmerizing pattern. I placed a hand on her lower stomach and smiled happily before letting my eyes fall closed. After a few moments I gave her a slight poke at which she groaned and giggled.

“Hmm?” She asked kissing the top of my head.

“Did you want to watch that documentary, the one about…the birth stage?” I stumbled over my words awkwardly, not certain how to describe the informational film.

“Well it is inevitable I suppose, little bean can’t live in here forever. Was it on Netflix?” That was as good as yes. I nodded and helped her up before retrieving my laptop from the bedroom.

I was scolded for this, one of her new rules was no laptops or phones in the bedroom. She had read some article in which the author petitioned that blue light damages the sleep of mother-to-be’s. I had rolled my eyes and scoffed which had rightfully earned me a soft pinch. While she was at work I would type from bed simply out of my desire for comfort, her desk chair made me long for my luxurious leather one at BSHCI. I had found that I missed working more than I ever imagined I would. Some days I would fall into a melancholy mood and would only find solace in her arms when she came home. I had taken a break from writing my book after the frightening events a few weeks ago and had dedicated myself to pregnancy and infant development research. I learned rapidly while making detailed, lengthy notes on a few of her legal pads. I had been doing so when she came home from work, which was about the time I had decided to confront her.

Now I was scrambling to find the documentary flicking past title after title of films I had already viewed.

“Oh my god Freddy, how many pregnancy documentaries have you watched?”

The entire Netflix homepage was decorated with titles related to pregnancy and child birth.

“A few. What? I am learning.” I drew out a few syllables on the final word hoping to distract her from her discovery.

“And this makes you happy? Watching pregnancy documentaries and…Merlin?”

I felt a heavy blush rise to my face before I cleared my throat and frantically scrolled through my list.

“It is a show based on Arthurian legend and creatures of Britannic mythology as well as…” I trailed off when I saw the soft smirk on her face.

“Magic. It has magic doesn’t it Freddy.”

“Yes.” I mumbled under my breath as a smile made it’s way to my lips.

I had told her long ago that my most passionate childhood ambition was to become a magician. Well namely a wizard. My father had attempted to beat that dream out of me. I had nearly given it up when my grandmother gave me a present while I was staying with her for a weekend. It was a dark blue cape with sparkling silver stars sewed into the fabric. I could not contain my glee. I remembered this day vividly, especially how my grandmother’s face lit up in a grin before she begged me to preform for her. I pulled out every trick I knew, screwing up the majority of them yet she insisted she was amazed at each one. She would gasp and clap while praising me and calling me Frederick the Fantastic. I had puffed my chest and spun around in my new cape before feigning my disappearance. So yes. I had and have a weakness for magic.

“Here it is, are you ready?” I asked clicking on and then pausing the documentary as I waited for her answer.

“Will you grab the big blanket? I’m a bit cold.” She requested reaching fruitlessly for the basket of blankets across the room.

I nodded and chuckled before retrieving the desired blanket and draping it over us as I placed the laptop half on her leg and half on mine. As the narrators voice started she nestled into me and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my collarbone. The couch wasn’t meant for two people to lie side by side but I had no issue with the intimacy it caused.

She winced a few times during the graphic birth scenes of the documentary and I followed suit, once even uttering a ‘yikes’. Her hand found mine and gripped it tightly as one of her thumbs rubbed over my knuckles. The film finished with a shot of the mother holding her newborn baby and her grip loosened before she leaned her head into my neck. I noticed something wet fall onto my skin and I turned carefully to see she was crying, yet was smiling. I kissed the side of her forehead with a little smack and she giggled before wrapping an arm around my front and squeezing my middle.

“We’re going to have a little baby Freddy, our own little baby.” She sang sweetly her words making my heart burn with joy.

“Yes we are my love, yes we are.”

As we laughed and snuggled into each others embrace her phone alarm went off with an obnoxious series of dings. She jumped up and I fell to the floor in what seemed like slow motion.

“Sorry baby, sorry!” She spoke apologetically as she rushed to her phone and turned off the alarm.

She had set her alarm earlier today for the precise moment the bar pass/fail announcements came out. I watched as she scrolled and tapped at her phone, logging into the website where the scores would be posted. My eyes carefully observed her every movement hoping to read the results from her reaction. Her eyes widened and met mine. Thus ensued the most confusing moment of my life. She started to cry, her hands flew to her face to muffle the squeals she was in the process of delivering to the air around us. She began to bounce and jump all while crying. I had never been so disoriented in all my life. She spun around in circles before letting out a massive sob. I reached for her hesitantly and she fell into my arms with a loud giggle. I tried to embrace her but she grasped my cheeks with both hands and laughed at the confounded expression I’m sure was painted on my face.

“I passed baby! I passed!” She spoke through her tears.

I breathed a sigh of relief and kissed her quickly before she could spin away from me once more.

“I knew you would my love, I knew it.” I spoke a large grin pulling at all the muscles left in my face.

She pressed a palm to her chest and breathed deeply before hugging me tightly. I held her in this embrace before dropping to my knees in front of her.

“Little love did you hear that, your Mommy is a lawyer. And Daddy is so proud of her, so so proud.” I pressed little kisses near her belly button and nuzzled my nose into the fabric covering her skin.

That’s when we both gasped. A small flutter pressed against her skin and her eyes widened as I looked up at her. We both held completely still for what seemed like an eternity but then it happened again.

“Oh my god Freddy, the baby just kicked.” She choked out as she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Hello little love…” I began but another stronger kick pressed against her skin.

“It’s your voice baby, our baby loves your voice.” She giggled softly and wove a hand through my hair.

I let out a happy sob, my face wavering between expressing my disbelief and my joy. I pressed my nose and lips to her stomach and choked out a few chuckles before standing to kiss her with all the passion I felt. Her arms wrapped around me and we stood there enveloped in each other and our unescapable bliss.

*sings* LITERAL FLUFF

Welcome back to the fluffy stuff, I am in such a fluffy mood so I’m trying to enjoy it while it lasts.  

[benichi]

MangaGamer’s annual licensing survey 2019

It’s that time of the year again, and frankly our current best chance to get some new Otome Games! On March 4th Mangagamer will be launching their licensing survey for this year.

For the people that want to look up some potential Otoge Mangagamer might be interested in the [Visual Novel database] is your best friend! I’ve already set the search to “Otome”, but you can add further filters if you want.

You may ask yourself “What kinds of games might be a good suggestion though?”. Obviously I’m not involved in localization matters, but we can look at a few things that we’ve learned over the years:

1) Rejet and Honeybee (and maybe Primula now as well?) have no interest in the overseas market whatsoever. I know Dialovers is popular, it ranks high in the survey each time. But putting the fact that Mangagamer is already well aware of this popularity aside, we also know that Rejet is not particularily fond of the idea that their games might be localized. Same goes for Honeybee (Starry Sky series,...). Primula is probably skeptical due to what happened with the butchered Taisho Alice release and honestly no one can blame them. That fiasco was a pretty big blow for the entire community since it proved some of the concerns these companies have about localizations. 

So while these companies have games I’d love to see localized (Ken Ga Kimi, a proper Taisho Alice release,...) there really isn’t much use in asking for them here.

1.2) Vice versa companies that have had some of their games localized (Otomate, Hunex, Kalmia8,...) are likely more open to give the overseas market another go. Companies that have no experience with localizaion could be hit or miss, though on the other hand everything has to start somewhere.

2) MangaGamer will only release games available for PC at this point in time.

Those are the two main points I think. Games that have a more frequent release date (I’d say after 2015) might have a bigger chance as well, ultimately that may not be the deciding factor though.

As you've probably guessed I’ve also done my homework this year. So if you don’t want to search through the VNDB yourself or think that there is strength in numbers here are some games that might potentially be interesting to Mangagamer in my opinion:

(Small disclaimer that all of the following info is from the VNDB website, I did not translate or take credit for any of this)

Kannagi no Mori

(Opening Movie)

The protagonist Kinami Mizuki has been able to see things that others could not since she was a child.

Her mother, who was the only family she had told her to keep it a secret from everybody and Mizuki has kept that promise. One rainy night while looking out her window Mizuki saw a person walking in the rain without an umbrella. That person looked exactly like her mother who had died three days ago. --On a rainy night, the dead will return... [continue reading]

This game has a very interesting premise. The reviews I’ve read praised its story as emotional and heart wrenching which is always good. With it’s release date during the last year it’s also pretty new. The Developer and Publisher have not worked with the overseas market before so they might be open to the idea of a localization.

Tricolity Eyes

(Opening Movie Vol. 1)

Tlicolity Eyes is a part of "triAngle PROJECT," a collaboration project between Otomate and Frontier Works. Each series will have 3 games released in span of 9 months for Windows under the same concept: one heroine, two heroes, and triangle love.

Tlicolity Eyes theme is entertainment industry x love comedy x triangle love. [Story] ――This is a story a bit ahead in the future. Approximately 30% of the population have a magical power and are called the "Ability Users." It is rumored that many of ability users are shining in the world of entertainment... [continue reading]

Honestly the biggest advantage of Toriai is that Otomate and Idea Factory are involved. They’re both familar with the overseas market so they could be very interested in working with Mangagamer. I also like that the protagonists are adults working a job, since it’s a break from the often used school setting.

Majestic☆Majolical

(Opening Movie Vol. 1)

The magician Lapis is the youngest daughter of the distinguished Idocrase family. Her parent's and four brothers are all elites with great magical power. However Lapis only has lower than ordinary magical abilities, she spends everyday at magic school getting ridiculed as the 'Burden of the Idocrase Family'. In order to go to a higher school she challenges a certain test. The details are to gather the 'Twinkle Gem' that is created from a strong 'feeling' in a humans heart. And so Lapis goes to the human world in high spirits, where a bunch of hard to deal with men are waiting for her.

I’ve seen this game on Twitter a few times and found it a happy surprise that this is a PC Otoge. Like Toriai it’s split into 3 different Volumes that focus on different characters. I’m really liking the premise (Witches and magic are 👌) and the art is beautiful. Reviews also said that the MC is great which is always a plus. This is the publisher/developer’s (dazkarat) first game so they could be interested in getting more revenue from the overseas market. Also might be a good partner for the future.

Alternative suggestion for R18 Otoge fans:

Yoshiwara Higanbana

(Opening Movie)

It’s the Edo era. Lust and desire swirls within the "other side" of the luxurious and gorgeous Shin-Yoshiwara. At the long-standing brothel called "Oukaya", the protagonist Chihaya works as its top-ranking oiran (courtesan). In order to go back to her motherland, she enterains male strangers day and night. Her unchanging everyday life... Yoshiwara might be a small world, but to Chihaya, it's a treasured place in which she can prove herself. The brothel's owner, Shigure. Her servant, Yuzu. The strong-willed fellow harlots that work alongside her. Surrounded by irreplaceable people, though her line of work is called "the world of suffering", Chihaya is proud of being a courtesan... [continue reading]

Obviously if you want some R18 content Mangagamer is the right place to ask for it. I’ve been wanting to suggest something but didn’t manage to find a good game on my own since a lot of these titles have very unpleasant themes and just generally bad plot. A lot of thanks to everyone on Twitter that helped narrow down my choice!

I’ve heard good things about Yoshiwara Higanbana, especially that the MC is proactive during R18 scenes and that the story is good. Similar as with Majestic☆Majolical this is the developers first game, so getting more revenue from the overseas market could interest them as well.

-

As usual these are suggestions. I can’t and won’t dictate what others vote, that choice is yours :) Whatever happens let’s hope that there might be some more Otoge releases in the future!

[android-for-life]

"Web Creator Spotlight | Stuart Schuffman"

Stuart Schuffman, a.k.a. Broke-Ass Stuart, is a globetrotting superblogger who has built his brand around the idea that you don’t actually need tons of money to enjoy yourself. Since the early 2000s he’s made it his mission to uncover hidden gems in his hometown of San Francisco and in cities like New York, San Diego, Detroit, Austin, and all over Europe as a longtime stringer for the backpacker’s bible, “Lonely Planet.” 

Over the years Stuart has published a handful of top-selling urban adventure guides dedicated to “busboys, poets, social workers, students, artists, musicians, magicians, mathematicians, maniacs, yodelers, and everyone else out there who wants to enjoy life not as a rich person, but as a real person.”

But to call Stuart a travel writer is to sell him short. He’s a web creator—a TV show host, marketer, social media manager, editor, writer, and publisher all wrapped into one. 

Launched in 2009, his website Brokeassstuart.com has grown from a local’s guide to metropolitan hotspots into a cultural force with an editorial staff covering politics, news, music, arts, and culture in the Bay Area and beyond. Even more impressive is the fact that Stuart still serves as the “Editor In Cheap” of his website while simultaneously writing and producing comedy shorts, live shows, and independent series that follow up where his show “Young, Broke, and Beautiful,” which aired on IFC in the early 2010s, left off.

“Life is an art project for me,” he says. But it’s also a job. And that’s where things get interesting.

We talked with Stuart to hear how he learned to navigate the ever-evolving landscape web creators face today.

So tell us ... what makes a web creator? What does your average day look like, etc?

It’s anyone dumb enough to plug away, day in and day out, over something they love and that they want to share with other people. I say “dumb” because it’s a terrible way to make a living, but if that’s not your main concern, it’s incredibly fulfilling on pretty much all other levels. 

As for my average day: things have been really topsy-turvy since COVID hit. Over 50 percent of our income dried up overnight so lately it’s been a lot of trying to figure out creative ways to fund this thing. I mean, I guess that’s how I spent much of my time before but, now it’s even more dire. 

Otherwise though, a typical day sees me: editing and publishing other people’s work, writing articles, doing social media for the content we create, doing sales, marketing, and business development, and answering a titanic amount of email. The thing about running your own independent media company is that my partner and I have to do about 30 different jobs. But at least I don't have some jerk boss I gotta deal with so it’s mostly worth it. 

Can you tell us a bit about your schedule? How do you get into the flow? What inspires you on a day to day basis and gets your creative energy flowing?

I give myself like an hour or so in the morning to watch Netflix while I slowly wake up. That way I’m ready to work without feeling rushed when I get down to it. As for inspiration, I’m always floored and inspired by the awesome content being created by our writers and editors. They make me so proud that I get to publish their voices. In fact, that’s one of the things I like best about what I do, I get to amplify voices that don’t always get heard.

Otherwise though, I get most excited when I’m creating new things. Life is an art project for me. Just in the past five years or so, I created and hosted seven episodes of a live late night show, put out a web series, won “best local website” a couple times, put out a zine, and ran for Mayor of SF. I’m working on some cool new projects right now that are still under wraps.

You’re super prolific! Can you describe your journey a bit? 

I’ve been doing this whole Broke-Ass Stuart thing for like 16 years now, so it’s a LONG story. But I’ll give you the short-ish version. 

Shortly after I finished college at UCSC, I was working in a candy store in North Beach. One day a guy I knew from the neighborhood I grew up in in San Diego came in with the woman that’s now his wife. As they were walking out she gave me her card and it said she was a travel writer. I thought, “I wanna be a travel writer” so I decided to become one. 

I put out my first zine, Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in San Francisco that summer (it was 2004). That was popular so I did an expanded version the following year. That ended up winning me “Best of the Bay” and I got a little notoriety. I got the zine in the hands of someone at Lonely Planet, and they liked it, and I ended up getting to go to Ireland to write about it for them.

I wanted to keep doing Broke-Ass Stuart but I also wanted to step it up and I actually found a book deal on craigslist. So I ended up doing three books. A Broke-Ass Stuart in SF book, an NYC book, and a book that was applicable everywhere in the U.S. 

Then in 2011 I had a travel TV show on IFC called Young, Broke & Beautiful. It was amazing. All the while though I was building up the website to be an arts & culture destination, so as my popularity grew, so did the site. Then running for Mayor obviously helped as well.

At this point we’re one of the most influential sites in the Bay Area for arts, culture, nightlife, and activism. It’s been a hell of a ride.

What are the best/worst parts of your job?

Getting to amplify voices that don’t always get heard while informing and entertaining hundreds of thousands of people a month is the best part for sure.

And then the hardest part, as you can imagine, trying to keep this thing afloat. I started this whole thing to be an art dude, but somehow ended up being a business dude out of necessity. I’m much better at creating funny and beautiful things than I am at making money. But I end up having to spend more time being a business dude than getting to create stuff. I’m at my happiest when I’m creating.

At the end of the day what is the ultimate goal of your blog/website? 

I used to care more about being famous, but as I get older, it doesn’t matter that much. I just want to create things that hopefully make the world a better place. Activism is a huge part of what we do at BrokeAssStuart.com. Over the years we’ve raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for various charities and causes. We’ve turned out tens of thousands of people to protest the many injustices that plague our world. Our Voter guides sometimes get like 30k views. And we’ve also made a lot of fart jokes. Gotta keep things balanced.  

Any words of advice for someone just getting started?

It's important to ask yourself if you really want to make a living doing something that you love. I know your immediate response is "Duh! Of course!" but really think about it. You're taking something that gives you joy and release, and turning it into a job. There will be many days where it is simply a job and that's something you need to be ok with.  

Another quick piece of advice is: build your audience before you try to monetize it. Get people to love what you do and believe in you before you start asking them for money.   

I could talk about this all day long. I've actually given a talk about how to "turn your side hustle into your main hustle" a number of times including at General Assembly and at Patreon's yearly conference, so if anyone reading this is interested in me giving the talk to you and your friends/coworkers reach out and we can figure out a price. 

And finally a quick #PayItForward. Name five other websites doing awesome stuff in your field.

SF Funcheap

48Hills

TableHopper

The Hard Times

Berkeleyside

Follow Broke-Ass Stuart on social media: Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Patreon

Source : The Official Google Blog via Source information