#channeling my inner “loves to draw blood” artist here

[linkedin-offficial]

moooore chimera vivian stuff

[lutrain2020]

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission:  I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media:  Tumblr: @sky-squido​ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"

[pistachiolan]

Egos Mob AU: Additional List

Here is The MasterList that contains stuff that does not have much to do with the main storyline or was brought up in the asks: I. Frequently Asked Questions II. Headcanons III. Fanwork IV. Taglist (if you wanna be added ask me!)

AU Creators: @pistachiolan & @murder-schmurder

[ MAIN MASTERPOST CAN BE FOUND HERE ]

BOTH LISTS WILL BE CONSTANTLY UPDATED Last update: 03.05.2019

I. FAQ:

1. Will other egos/characters be in the story? - Right now we don’t plan on adding any other egos, be it Jack’s or Mark’s or anybody else’s. As for characters, they appear as we go.

2. What’s Marvin’s gender? - They are genderfluid, meaning their gender can change: male, female, both or neither. Usually, they don’t care what pronouns you address them [he/she/them] if they do feel like using a certain pronoun that day - they will politely ask for it.

3. What about time and place of the events? - Well, we didn’t want to limit ourselves to a certain country, but it’s a place in the northern hemisphere, with port, forest and river. The time is present or even slightly futuristic considering existence of BING, but some aesthetics can appear like from ’20 and ‘30.

4. Will Jack be in the story? - No. For the personal reason, we prefer not to include real people in this AU

5. Are there/Will there be any romantic or intimate relationships in the story? - As the story starts, Marvin, Anti and Jackie are in open poly-relationship, however, it’s not the main point of the story nor will be any romantic relationship. As for others... we will just have to see, no spoilers :)

6. Who is Jacques/Angus/Connor/Bing/Shawn? - Jacques is French artist who appeared in series like Passpartout - Angus comes from OLD series on Jack’s channel called: The Survival Hunter - Connor (The Announcer) is an ego whose voice appears in series like “Japan World Cup” or “Stories Untold”. Connor is a name I came up with - Bing (Bingsepticeye) is a fan character, that was created as Jack’s version of Mark’s Google (Before Mark’s Bing appeared) - Shawn Flynn is a character from BATIM, Jack did the voice for him in the game. (None of those characters has canon name /except for Shawn/ or design so all of them were designed by me.)

7. Are all artworks on your blog related to the Mob AU? - No, I do other stuff as well, this is my art blog, all Mob AU stuff will be tagged as #egos-mob-au

8. What confirmed non-ego characters are in the story so far? - Deceased, but mentioned in the story: Mr Brody (Chase’s father), Trent, Olivia and Marcus (Chase’s siblings), The Sisters (Crime Organisation that Anti previously worked for), Jackie’s mother - Alive: Mary (One of JJ’s spies), Sarah&Sam+Stacy (Chase’s kids and ex-wife), Diana (Jackie’s sister)

9. Where can I find the survey where I can choose my favourite character in Mob AU? :) [ RIGHT HERE ] [ Results so far ]

10. Are we gonna see how the non-ego characters look like? - Everything in due time :)

11. Can I write a story/draw something/make an edit/Share a theory or headcanon/etc based of off your Mob AU? - OF COURSE! Both I and @murder-schmurder absolutely love seeing what people can come up with, so please tag us so we can see it! :)

II. HEADCANONS

Chase: [His Rules] [Fun Fact] [Feeling of Betrayal] [”Day Job”] [Loyality] [How often Chase sees his kids] [How often Chase sees his kids 2.0] [Did death of Chase’s mother made him distance himself from his kids?] [Rough] [Sad Mob Boss Portrait] [Regrets] [How he changed] [What IF]

Henrik: [Fun Fact] [Joke a day keeps the sinus infection away]

Jackie: [Fun Fact] [Fighting Boyo] [Before joining the Family] [Smile champion] [Proof]

Marvin: [Fun Fact] [Marvin’s gender: here, here, here, here] [Other masks] [Highschool uniform] 

Jameson: [Fun Fact] [Love for JJ] [How did he get into the Family] [Family Secrets]

Anti: [Fun Fact] [The real character sheet for Anti] [Anti’s disease?] [How did he become IT guy] [Anti’s jealousy] [Anti’s origin] [Stress-reliever] [Twitchy] [Jail?]

Jacques: [Fun Fact]

Angus: [Fun Fact]

Bing: [Fun Fact] [hugs for BING!] [Bing watching his Creator]

Shawn: [Fun Fact] [DEJA VU] [DEJA VU 2.0] [Drunk] [Soft Shawn]

Connor: [Fun Fact]

Sarah: [yay]

Other Characters: [Why didn’t Olivia take over?] [How did Mr Brody look like?] [Who are The Sisters] [Jackie’s sister] [What happened with Olivia?] [Actress Mary] [Jackie’s sister pt2]

Group HCs: [Inner Circle] [Scars] [Mr. Brody’s kids] [Is Marvin Chase’s brother?] [What happened to Mr Brody’s wives] [Muscle difference] [Rules 2.0] [How did AntiMarvelSepticeye happen R15 Ship] [ The Messiest Triad in The City R15 Ship] [Sad Henrik R15 Ship] [AntiMarvelSepticeye Dates R15 Ship] [The Sisters and Anti] [Chase and Stacy] [Anti vs Jackie- Who was more deader] [Boring Dinner R18 SHIP] [Marvin and Stacy view on SchneepleBro R15 Ship] [Fears] [Henrik and Stacy having lunch] [Inkwell/Shaques fluff SHIP]

Crack HCs: [Anti & Shawn in the car] [What happens with Marvin’s dresses] [Hugs] [Who is more likely to] [OUTDATED MEME] [COFFEE] [Mob AU Egos meet Regular Egos] 

Eyebrows Saga: [Jacques] [Schneeplestein Brothers] [Wild Jackie appears] [JJ] [Jackie] [Marvin] [Henrik] [Anti] [Jackie+Marvin] [Bing] [Chase] [Angus] [Shawn] [EVERYBODY except Connor] ............ [Connor] [If you wanna witness nigtmare]

[Speedpaint of CoverArt]

III. FANWORK

So I wanted to showcase some awesome works that people made based on this AU! Thank you so much for all of you, that’s incredibly flattering to see people getting inspired by something we created :)

Fanart:

[Henrik] by @hetalitale

[Chase] [Marvin] [Henrik] [Jackie] [Anti] [JJ] [AntiMarvelSepticeye R15 Ship] Moodboards by @alexisthedevilsfox

[JJ] [Marvin] by @sar-kasstic

[JJ] by @little-beetle-is-sad

[Chase] by @hellothisiss33dot

[Chase] by @deaths-presence

[BING] by @jackspeedickey

[Marvin] by @din0draws

[Marvin] by @alexisthedevilsfox​

[AntiMarvelSepticeye: sketch & colored] by @dorkydinoart

[AntiMarvelSepticeye] by @eternalconcerto

[MobAU Boys] by @queenies-writing

[Chase] [AntiMarvel] @thespiterabbit 

[JJ] by liza_animations

[Marvin] by scarlett_valotte

[Chase] by arrt_dude

FanFiction:

[Mob AU Inspired Story - The Garden: Part 1 ] by @squirrelestanon

[Mob AU Inspired Story: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3] by @little-beetle-is-sad

[Mob AU: Aunt Bea] by Oncewasmine

[the blood on your hands] & [silent] by @dead-inside-mcgee

Other:

[Schneeplebro & Inkwell/Shaques in Mob AU] by @alexisthedevilsfox

[mob au according to me and a bunch of poorly drawn stick figures] by @dead-inside-mcgee

[Shawn in action] delivered by @dorkydinoart

Incorrect quotes: [Henrik&Marvin] [Marvin] by @dorkydinoart

IV. TAGLIST:

@a-humble-narcissus @thesinginggal @kate807 @mihaela-tbg  @isa-ghost @fleecal @alexisthedevilsfox @the-rampaige @epicseptic @snow-lavender @lythariwolf @hetalitale @blueoakstar @acidcatfreak @the-silent-screamer @apersonwholikesdragons @written-by-taylor @estaticplaywrite @glitchbicth @fairyblue-alchemist @nerdislovenerdislife @awkward-bullshit @littleluversblog @call-of-memories @mashabaranchik @sophiefrye22 @southerndragontamer @raven-clues @anqshusxx @tangl3d @metautske @a-septic-mind @din0draws @icouldhaveabettername @stuck-in-a-l-o-o-p @1esor2 @theblackphoebe @allons-ychey @celticmess @adarosewrites @sar-kasstic @chitaj @victory-cookies @admirethesky @thevampireauthoress @egowithoutstrings @enderoid @impossiblerebelblaze @novelistgeek @deaths-presence @eternalconcerto @anothermarkiplierfan @septicart-appreciation @thecatchat @strange-guardian @impossiblerebelblaze @hellothisiss33dot @my-analogical-romance

[withyouandthemoon]

Daddy Issues

Author’s Note: This was, to my utter embarrassment, inspired by a line from what I believe was the second episode of TO S5. Something along the lines of “there are certain damages that only a father can do”, which I find completely nonsense. Many moons later that disdain along with @garglyswoof‘s kind prompting finally pushed me to write this down. Set sometime in the future where KC are in an established relationship; probably a few decades after TVD 4x23 and anything Canon after that is not acknowledged here. It started off like a ton of lemons (I love this obsolete term that I recently just learned) but is actually so filled with fluff it’s more like lemon meringue. My teeth hurt in the end.

When Caroline was young she was terrified of flying. Granted she didn’t flew that much to start with – just a couple of times to visit her dad and that one single time when her mom took her to see her aunt in Florida.

Each and every one of those times she was scared out of her mind. Her imaginations ran the wildest when they were backed up by data, and she had always been a thorough researcher. She’d clamp her little hands so hard on the armrests to crush the images of falling and explosion in her head as the giant plane sped up, hard steel digging into her back like some unnameable dark force with an evil mind of its own.

And then she’d be hovering midair. Her heart floating in her already floating body, all trapped up in a floating still iron box.

Caroline thought she’d loathe that feeling all her life and avoid it at all cost.

Little did she know how drastically feelings changed over time, especially when you hold a few decades, or even centuries of it in your palm to squander about.

Then flying became soaring. Floating, freeing. Looking down on the ground from miles above felt like a metaphor for the immortality of which she was still just beginning to get a grasp.

And that was probably why Caroline found herself fantasizing about what she used to fear the most when Klaus’ controlled warm breaths scorched her inner thighs. He was taking his sweet time tonight, lips hovering near her soaked core, the tip of his tongue ghosting her sensitive skin now and then, but never fully landing. A frustrated half-sigh-half-moan slipped out of her throat and he merely hummed, the sound buzzing through her suddenly arched spine like the engines of a plane, lulling, but exhilarating all the same.

“Easy, there.” His thumb gently rubbed under her knee while a light kiss grazed her abdomen, “we haven’t even started yet.”

And how she yearned for that. Speeding. Gaining traction. Pulling up and up and up until she was blinded by the sun blasting over the hazy clouds.

His low chuckle traveled along her midsection to the valley between her breasts, and he licked her there as if tasting her wandering thoughts, “what lovely images are you conjuring up this time, sweetheart?”

She knew what he was asking about. After decades of roaming the earth it was no news to Caroline that people saw or heard the strangest things during sex. But surprisingly she had quite the artistic mind when it came to sex with Klaus (sometimes she suspected she was channeling him but she would never feed that to his egotistical ass). The first time he coaxed the imaginative painting of undulating hills swirling with colors out of her, he stared at her with such awe and fervor in his eyes like she’d just single-handedly invented the freaking impressionism. Ever since then he became quite obsessed with her little “sex visions”, and it was not like Caroline didn’t enjoy it.

But not now. He was wordy when he got artistic, and wordy meant slow.

So she dragged him up by his dangling necklaces, stealing a bruising kiss for her own before replying, “I’m not telling you if you keep this game up.”

“What game?” He feigned innocence, like those fingers so skillfully fiddling with her nipples weren’t even his.

She couldn’t quite swallow her gasps, her eyes half-closed from the charges spreading from her chest, but not enough to shut out the smug grin on his face.

Well if this was the road he wanted to go down, then she might as well spice things up a bit more.

Silently she began to nibble at the side of his neck, Klaus’ head immediately falling back exposing his throat where tiny sounds of satisfaction were rumbling. To this day it amazed Caroline a little when he acted this open around her, and she felt herself growing wetter at the thought.

Sucking on his pulse point, she reached over to the glass jar on their nightstand and sank her hand into the sea of notes inside.

The jar was Caroline’s two-year anniversary gift to Klaus, filled with both of their fantasies and dirty thoughts. Klaus was, of course, most obliged to try it out as often as possible, but now over one year later they’d still not run out of ideas – not completely unbelievable considering they’d both been caught on more than one occasion sneaking new notes into the “kink jar”, as dubbed by one very disturbed and disgusted Rebekah Mikaelson.

Caroline laughed inwardly at Rebekah’s scrunched-up face as she fished around the little pieces of paper. But before she could draw one out, her hand was enclosed in his, the heat of his palm almost burning her.

She looked up into Klaus’ teasing eyes, “I’m feeling adventurous tonight.”

“When are you not?” He was idly rubbing circles on the back of her hand through the thin notes, and she almost moaned out at the feeling of the rough edges of paper scraping against her skin. When did the back of her hand become an erogenous zone anyway? Damn it, focus.

She raised an eyebrow challengingly, “can’t keep up?”

His grin grew wider at that, “I’m not complaining.”

Snatching a piece of note from between her fingers, Klaus withdrew his hand and lay back against the headboard, his other arm instinctively circling around Caroline as she snuggled close to take a peek. She was startled by Klaus’ sudden growl of anger, and she hurried to grab the note before he crushed it in his iron grip.

Apprehension clouded her mind as she read the now slightly smudged words: Call Me Daddy.

That definitely hit a sore subject if there ever was one. And judging by Klaus’ murderous expression she doubted he threw that one in just to test his own limits. So that left…

“Kol.” Klaus bit through his clenched teeth, confirming her suspicion.

“But how…?”

Their bedroom was spelled so that only the two of them could enter, and anyone who dared to break the barrier would leave marks wherever they touched inside the room. Not to mention that with Klaus’ hybrid senses, he could probably detect any past intruders from a mile away. To wipe all the traces Kol would have to have some assistance in the form of witchcraft, but Caroline still vividly remembered the disastrous fight Klaus had with him just days ago about Kol “childishly antagonizing all the covens in the city”.

“Kol has always had a way with witches,” Klaus huffed, “if he’s not acting like a raging imbecile.”

“So you’re telling me that he somehow made up with the witches, which I believe was what you expected in the first place, and he got them to help him get inside our bedroom to mess with our sex life, just so he could get back at you because you yelled at him for making an enemy of the witches that ended up helping him?” Caroline rolled her eyes, “I know I’ve said this a million times but you all are a twisted bunch.”

Klaus’ lips lifted smugly, “he’s my brother after all.” In the blink of an eye the smirk turned into a scowl, “but if he thought he could get away with this he was sorely mistaken. I do not care if he’s restored some sort of rapport with the witches. This crossed a line.”

“It can’t really be that bad.” She sighed, sitting up straight, nudging Klaus’ head to settle on her chest before he could protest. She could feel the little puff of air he let out warm on her skin, his long dark blonde eyelashes casting shadows on those high cheekbones that felt way too petulant for a thousand year old monster.

“I will be the judge of that.”

The moonlight was shining favorably on all his good features, and from Caroline’s vantage point he almost looked like one of those ancient statues she saw during their never ending world tours, the perfect human specimen perpetuated by hands that were long dead. But those masterpieces of marble were truly strong, ageless, fearless.

He wasn’t.

He was a thousand years of weaknesses and struggles, sleepless nights and blood-soaked frenzies sedimented into one.

And he was resting so petulantly, yet so contently on her very chest.

Without lifting his eyes Klaus seemed to have sensed the little smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “what? No name-calling? Not a word of ‘get over it?’” His arm idly went around her waist, bringing their bodies even closer, “that’s a first.”

She didn’t answer him for a while, just silently playing with the soft curls on his nape. And for once Klaus didn’t rush her, his artistic fingers drawing sketch after sketch on her side. Neither of them was particularly good at the patience thing, but somehow they found the rhythm as the years passed, finding each other more fascinating than the heavy stress of silence.

“I was just thinking…none of us seemed to have won the lottery in the father department. I mean, mine left when I was ten; Bonnie’s father was practically absentee when we were growing up, and from what I heard the Salvatores nearly got killed by theirs. Elena’s father was probably the only nice one, but it turned out he was a heartless psycho who tortured vampires for science.” She couldn’t help a small shudder when she mentioned that piece of information, and Klaus’ arm instantly tightened around her.

“Among the lot of us, we could run an awards for the shittiest dad.” She continued with a light shake of her head, “on a scale of one to ten your dad can get, like a nine or something.”

This time Klaus looked up at her, his face more incredulous than angered, which Caroline took as a good sign.

“What? There must be something even worse than wanting your own kids dead.”

“Caroline, are you seriously trying to rank this medley crew according to paternal ‘shittiness’?” She could hear the air quote loud and clear in his words.

Shrugging, Caroline reached for his hand, now stilled on her ribcage because of her ever-so-whimsical idea, and guided it to resume its drawing patterns, “I’m tempted. This sounds like there could be a nice colored histogram involved. I’ll even let you pick your own color – I call dibs on hot pink though.”

Klaus snorted, clearly knowing her enthusiasm was only half-faked, “I promise I won’t fight you over it, love.”

“Good. Because you don’t stand a chance anyway.” She retorted smugly, bending down to press a kiss at the crown of his head.

She knew very well that vampires didn’t have a heartbeat. It took her a long time to get used to not feeling it in herself, and even longer to stop looking for it in others. But after that, she started to notice the tells. More importantly, she started to notice his tells.

How his lips hung open, how his eyelashes shook infinitesimally, how that tiny pause in his even breaths segued so smoothly into the next as if nothing happened…all the little signs screaming in silence the skip of a nonexistent heartbeat.

So she snuggled her face into his hair further, curling around him to ease the tightening of her own dead heart, their bodies molding into each other like a gender-reversed version of that famous painting of Gustav Klimt’s.

Sometimes she couldn’t fathom if she was looking at the world through his eyes, or he hers.

“How come you speak so lightly about such things?” Klaus’ voice was barely above a whisper, contorted emotions hidden well in the creases of hushed breaths.

“And how can you give them so much power?” She pushed back the question softly, the knuckle of her finger grazing his jaw line, “I thought it was human nature to forget.”

And she’d experienced that nature more and more now that she was almost in her fifties in human years. They were, in the end, selfish and cowardly creatures who shed memories like they shed hair. Because hair ate at your body, and memories ate at your soul.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine clinging to the past for a century, let alone a millennium.

His quiet sigh weighed heavy on her heart, “maybe so. But may I remind you that we are no longer human, and common senses don’t necessarily apply to our cases.”

“Yet you’re the one who keeps letting him get to you.”

She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she never could hold her tongue in front of him. Feeling him tensing she leaned in to press another kiss on his temple, his body now almost completely wrapped in hers. They felt like one bizarre creature with tangled limbs and ragged breaths, his lashes shuttering against her chin its disproportionally-tiny, erratic heart.

“Caroline…”

He spoke her name in a way that nobody else would. Like a whole new language that consisted of only one word, and every part of speech was just her, her, her.

But somehow she always understood him perfectly.

“It was the summer when I was twelve that it really sank in – that I couldn’t count on my dad.” She started talking without prompt, her other arm reaching over to circle him in a full embrace, “sure he was gone before that, but we talked on the phone, he’d send me gifts and sometimes visit, so it didn’t feel that bad.”

She felt him settle further into her. There were subjects that Klaus would never go into details. But from time to time he’d listen quietly as Caroline talked about them, without a word of response. It’d become yet another one of their things – those feelings that he didn’t dare utter, that he hadn’t quite figured out even after a thousand tumultuous years flowing through her like a dark stream, brought into the freeing daylight by her soft voice. In those moments he’d just hold her tighter, as he did now.

“That summer I went to stay with him and Stephen. We had so much fun together. I’d never seen my father so happy and carefree, always laughing, joking, trying out new things. Stephen brought that out in him. He was not bad himself either. I almost forgave him. But then it was the end of the summer and of course, I didn’t want to leave.”

She’d used up all her tricks but her dad still wouldn’t budge, looking at her apologetically, his eyes full of things that she didn’t understand then.

“My dad said I had to. Period. I was upset, but more than that the whole thing just felt so unfair. My dad chose to leave, he chose to start a new life without me, and he chose to send me back. But why didn’t I get to choose?” She sighed into the side of his neck, “but it turns out life just doesn’t give you that many choices, no matter who you are.”

She trailed her fingers down his vertebrae, one bone at a time. She’d watched him turn several times over the years, her hand helplessly trying to soothe the pain bursting out from the seams. Yet now they rested so cluelessly under her finger tips, little fossils of suffering with invisible secrets and puzzles carved into them, but no answers.

“I was mad for a month or two. About my dad, of course; but also because Kimberly Fell told everyone I kissed her douchebag of a brother and got dumped, which was the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Hello? Alex Fell was so not my type!” Klaus was chuckling softly into the crook of her shoulder. She slapped him on the back without much force, her own laugh bubbling in her chest, “anyway, I’m just saying that it was…ordinary, you know. He was not father of the year, but he was hardly the cause of everything gone wrong in my life.”

Klaus’ voice startled her a little, hoarse from the long silence on his part, “as I’ve told you a long time ago, the issue with my father was slightly more complicated than that.” But unlike the first time, instead of harsh he just sounded pensive, his hand still caressing her side in its own accord.

“Well I suppose so,” her voice took on a teasing tone, “but I doubt you are a special scattered spot outside the normal distribution curve.”

“I see that statics course of yours has proven useful.” Klaus huffed a laugh, fingers traveling to the dips of her lower waist, making her shiver involuntarily.

“I told you college education had its perks.”

She never finished her first undergrad, opting for traveling the world on her own instead. When she mentioned getting back to it one more time a few months ago, Klaus was more than supportive – at least about everything aside from her class schedule.

“It still doesn’t make up for those mornings when you leave me in bed alone.” He sucked at the sensitive spot between her clavicles, his full lips forming a perfect pout to prove his point.

Caroline shoved him away and flipped them over, straddling him with a triumphant smirk, “don’t be a baby.”

His hand instantly landed on her hips, squeezing her so deliciously she let out a gasp, “fine, then be a good student and tell me where I fall on your normal distribution curves.”

She ground her ass into him, eliciting a low moan, “normal is never the word to use when it comes to my curves, and you know it.”

“My apologies, love.” He looked up at her, all flashy dimples and shiny curls, “I hereby declare that from this day forward your curves will only be referred to as ‘sensational’ and ‘out of this world’.”

“You better.” She leaned over to kiss him, only to feel the discarded piece of paper under her palm. Frowning, she threw it aside, “and for this once I’m not against you straightening Kol up a little. He has no business in The Jar. And ‘daddy’? Seriously? You are at least a grandpa.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, “if we absolutely have to play this game I prefer the vampire term ‘sire’.”

“Huh.” Caroline inclined her head teasingly, “If you want to get into the technicalities, I believe you are my great-great-great-grand-sire. You are practically my ancestor in vamp terms.”

“You make me feel so old, sweetheart.”

“Hate to break it to you, but as a vampire you have to change your perception of time.” Caroline wiggled her brows as she repeated his words to him, “apparently saying you are old is like, the highest compliment.”

“Apparently.” Klaus hummed as he palmed her breasts leisurely, thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples and Caroline’s head fell back in the surge of pleasure.

Still she never was one to back down from a banter, even if her voice was husky from the lust and anticipation, “so suck it up, sweetheart.”

The next second he was shifting their position so he was sitting up with her still in his lap, his hot lips grazing her left breast while his hand kept kneading the other, “I promise to start sucking if you keep up the compliments.”

But before she could utter a word his mouth was on her, soft lips enveloping her nipple with his tongue skillfully brushing the tip. Caroline sighed loudly, her fingers once more sinking into his curls in abandon.

“Oh yes sire!” She arched her back, pushing her breasts into his head-reeling ministrations, her moans half from arousal and half her playful streak, “you are so old, I just love how old you are…” she ground her burning core into his already rock hard cock, “yes, ravish me, punish me, hit me with your long hard cane!”

Klaus suddenly let go of her nipple, pulling her down for a wet kiss, the sound of laughter shook from their chasing tongues all the way down to their joint hips.

He was still laughing when he pulled back, his hand brushing the fallen hair out of her face gently, “this reminds me of…never mind.”

“What?”

Caroline studied him suspiciously. He looked…embarrassed, with his eyes downcast and the annoyed little lines forming at the corners of his eyes. And then something clicked.

“You were thinking of When Harry Met Sally weren’t you? Admit it!”

She’d all but forced him to watch with her all the chick flicks that’d ever been made, some more than once, or try five times. It was not her fault that the hybrid had an impressive memory.

“I most certainly did not!” He narrowed his eyes, pulling her closer into his lock of iron-hard arms, “how dare you sully my name like this, young lady.”

“Whatever you say, great-great-great-grand-sire.”

Caroline batted her eyelashes at him, curling the last word around her tongue like he so often did. She gasped when his cock grew even larger underneath her, vibrating against her soaking slit with a mind of its own.

“Are you actually turned on by that?” She faked incredulity while furtively rubbing her core over him, earning a growl deep in his throat.

He looked at her long and hard, sweet and tender, his face still lit up by a playful smile yet his eyes burned into hers as if fusing them together, even if they were already so close she tasted him at the back of her tongue with each breath she took, “Caroline, you make me want to kiss you, spank you, fuck you senseless and have a good laugh with you, all at the same time.”

He slowly leaned into her, their cheeks touching inch by inch and he was whispering into her ear like the whole world had silenced to a halt, “there is no bigger turn-on than that.”

She laughed softly, her hands raising to cup his cheeks, murmuring an indiscernible “good” before she dove into him, and felt like flying.

[canvasofthecosmos]

Neptune in the Houses

Ruler of Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac, Neptune contains a lot in its waters. It takes mutable sign complexity to the max. In a chart, it shows where you see infinite possibility and have difficulty forming boundaries. This can be very spiritual, of course, seeing the ether(Pisces) from which life is born(Aries). Neptune causes you to hear faint things nobody else can- it’s the most direct connection to whatever exists beyond this world. This inspires transcendental art, unconditional compassion, and reasons to continue living earthly life, but there can be too much of a good thing. What was once an occasional break from reality becomes a full-time gig, and a refusal to face anything head on. In my opinion, Neptune is the most difficult planet to channel into reality, because that’s exactly what it’s not. A bottomless well is tapped into.

**Also consider the signs! So if you’re a 3rd house Neptune in Sagittarius, you can look at the 9th house as well as the 3rd. Also include the sign that rules your 12th house(the sign before your ascendant.) You can also apply these descriptions to any pisces placement you have.**

1ST HOUSE– Unbridled neptunian traits. Here, the person morphs to every twitch of change in their surroundings, but doesn’t realize they’re doing so. Open martyrs. There is something mesmerizing about this person- they look at everyone as if a bit awestruck. Their eyes are wide-open, glossy, and unreadable. There’s a tendency towards rounded features and glisteny cheeks. Soft golds and shades of pink and orange suit them, as well as foamy green. Dissolving is their IDENTITY, which is a difficult thing to muster. Body dysmorphia is common. They tend towards escapism, pushing things a little too far(look at the sign of Neptune to see in what way. A Cancer Neptune would personify their home environment, whereas an Aquarius Neptune would morph to fit social groups.) They compulsively agree with people, and change their minds later. Losing themselves in their identity, they are the world’s dream.

Ex: Marilyn Monroe, Freddie Mercury, Paris Hilton, Jim Carrey, Bjork, Courtney Love, Andy Warhol

2ND HOUSE– The body is the outlet for Neptune. Self-image is incredibly fluid, with no sense of object permanence, often forgetting one’s own face until they look in the mirror. Their faces have a strange symmetry, as if the two halves are about to merge. The second house symbolizes self-worth, material belongings, and eating habits; all of these lack solidity with Neptune placed here. Very inconsistent eating patterns, judging the worth of objects based on sentimentality, and blending of self-worth with other people are common tendencies. Major identity merging, with a knack for drawing more rigid people out of their shells.

Ex: Donald Trump, Katy Perry, Jennifer Lawrence, Isaac Newton, Tom Hanks, Carl Jung, Marie Curie

3RD HOUSE– Childhood/early school life was likely very strange. They child had a habit for daydreaming and knew way more than they could verbalize. As a result, communication is now an enigmatic thing. This placement points to an excellent ability to visualize, and to freely move between realms within one’s thoughts. Very poetic. They can paint complex pictures with their words. However, clarity is not a strong point. Miscommunication is a frequent issue, with people just not -getting- what they’re saying. They’re way smarter than they often get credit for. Words come out backwards- and forwards- and seem to have a kaleidoscopic life of their own. This may point to someone who experimented with drugs at an early age, or was just subjected to heavy themes. They may be too surrendering to their friends or siblings, or have friends who are dreamy themselves.The dreamlife is chattery. Neptune is a mutable planet and the 3rd a mutable house, so these people are very changeable.

Ex: Leonardo DiCaprio, Beyoncé Knowles, Keanu Reeves, Kurt Cobain, 14th Dalai Lama, Friedrich Nietzsche

4TH HOUSE– ‘Home’ is illusive with this placement. They have a great sense of devotion to their family(whether this be flesh and blood or not), but they can never seem to get things just -right-. Their inner world is cavernous and ever changing- the sense of security that they long for evades them. A feeling of being left behind, a ghost in their own home. Childhood memories may be hazy and idealized. They’re hypersensitive to their own emotional currents, often getting swept away in the tides. They spend a lot of time feeling their inner world out, and the physical home is often an outlet to that. It’s halls can feel like a sanctuary or a tomb depending on their mood. They can be a martyr to their family, sacrificing themselves as the glue that holds it all together.

Ex: Johnny Depp, Uma Thurman, Emma Watson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Marilyn Manson, Sigmund Freud, Cher

5TH HOUSE– Neptune expresses especially creatively here, with the planet of dissolvement  and art in the house of childlike creation. Love can take this person to a different world. This person can easily get swept up in dramatic love affairs. They can be very idealistic, expecting everything to work out without any effort- their intention is enough. Love is the end all be all viewed through hazy pink shades. Nothing feels more divine than to create life- whether it be through art, romance, or even children. Their relationship with children can be mystical, as they raise children who are dreamy themselves. This is someone who loses themselves in the everyday celebration of living.

Ex: Martin Luther King, Drake, Tyra Banks, Charles Manson, Fergie, RuPaul, Jack Black

6TH HOUSE– This is interesting! It’s Neptune placed in its opposite(virgo) house. The 6th house rules health, routines, taking care of other people/pets, and work. Neptune adds a whole other dimension to all of this. This could be someone who treats daily work like a spiritual task, purifying everything with Neptune’s dewy glow. They could also treat their sacrifice as the ultimate burden. The thing about water planets/signs/etc is that they can be the most healing OR the most destructive. Neptune can raise things to the highest dimension possible, or it can simply cause rot. 6th house Neptune unhinged can let daily details slip away. The house is rotting- there’s mold in the walls and the sink is crawling- the fish haven’t been fed in days, you can’t remember the last time you ate. Surrendering yourself to what -needs- to be done will overcome this.

Ex: Mahatma Gandhi, Kanye West, Alexander the Great, Billie Holiday, Gordon Ramsay, Sigourney Weaver, Malala Yousafzai, Jackie Chan

7TH HOUSE– A tricky one. This person may not notice Neptunian traits in themselves, but simply because they project them on others. They draw sirens to them like a sailor, wide-eyed and dressed in silky scales. Interacting with people is a direct outlet to divinity. Their romantic partners could be in the occult community, artists, or medical professionals. They could be unstable, bottling substance abuse and hysteria. Loved ones may be institutionalized, or lead the 7th House Neptunian to hysteria themselves! Wherever Neptune is placed, infinity is wide open, and as such static ‘reality’ is hard to cope with. Their partners are adaptable to the extreme. Relationships may appear out of nowhere, shockingly perfect, and then slink away just as quickly. This is someone who interacts with spirit in their daily exchanges.

Ex: Mother Teresa, Amy Winehouse, Charlie Chaplin, Paul McCartney, Cate Blanchett, Jean-Paul Sartre

8TH HOUSE– Suspended in the murky waters of the 8th house, Neptune seeks new depth. It scrapes the bottom of reality, a mere splash of its tail causing turmoil. This person surrenders themselves to touchy subjects, whether it be sex, crossing emotional boundaries, or the mere act of being openly intimate wherever they go. They keep themselves wide open to be explored, which can make some uncomfortable. Whereas 4th house planets swim in their own emotional well of ancestry/family, the 8th house subjects anything it contacts to its probing, pulling precious insights to anyone and anything. With Neptune here, there is no plug. The individual can resort to escapism and self-destructive behaviours to escape this flood of information. Periods of intense obsession are one way to purge and breathe freely again. They experience intense highs and lows, many all-encompassing ego deaths that spit them out as a stronger being than they could ever before imagine. It’s possible this could include real near-death experiences. Spirituality and self-sacrifice is an all or nothing affair.

Ex: Adolf Hitler, Shakira, David Bowie, Lana Del Rey, Kristen Stewart, Whitney Houston, J. K. Rowling, Snoop Dogg

9TH HOUSE– Neptune is always searching in this house. The 9th house is explorative, no longer in the mental way of the 3rd house, but physically. The planets in this house get your legs moving and your heart pounding. With Neptune here, one is wide open to new experiences. They absorb others’ viewpoints like a sponge, with a heart calling for adventure. They collect artifacts that bring them closer to their ideal spirituality- shells, crystals, tarot cards, quotes. They may seem a little stereotypical in their spirituality, but that’s just because they’re so eager to learn! Surrender is a great adventure to them, and they humbly accept every opportunity. The biggest problem comes from an overzealous zest for exploration, which results in not traveling down any single path long enough to truly absorb it. I could see religious fanatics falling in this category, over-excited students who preach half-information on street corners. Regardless, their pure enthusiasm is contagious. Neptune is especially boundless here.

Ex: Rihanna, Elvis Presley, Brigitte Bardot, Heath Ledger, Vincent Van Gogh, Bob Dylan, Carrie Fisher

10TH HOUSE– Neptunian traits are broadcasted here, as the 10th house is where you stand on the world’s stage. The public’s perception of you is always a little -off-. These folks can be viewed as more perfect than they actually are, because they serve as a reflection of the public’s desires. They morph to fit the structure they’re given. Being publicly known as a savior, a star. Publicly known substance abuse. An overly-empathetic boss.. A lazy boss. Long term goals that slip through the hands like sand. They dream of being in control, utterly in charge of their fate. They may create the illusion of having power over others, while feeling entirely helpless. Jobs in customer-service, cinema, body modification, the medical field, and spiritual work. Feeling pressured to be forgiving. Having an absent father. Hypersensitivity to criticism and nonexistent boundaries. Everyone views you as something different.

Ex: Princess Diana, Napoleon, Bruce Lee, Pablo Picasso, Bob Marley, Russell Brand, Patti Smith

11TH HOUSE– A feeling of confusion and mysticism surrounds friendship. The 11th house rules group associations and with Neptune they come and go freely, as if connected to one’s moods. An experimental spirituality, with robotic dreams. Dreams are discussed in group settings. Their inner world is electrifying and detached, morphing into crystalline images of the future. Losing your identity in groups. Sacrificing oneself to humanitarian causes. Dreams that never match up with reality. Using groups to escape mundane reality- role-playing, fantasy games, book clubs, night clubs, group drug usage. Using the internet to escape. Sharing art on the internet… only making art with others. Electric guitar/synthesizers. Space-age music. Shocking talents. Illusive friends. Having vague feelings of mistrust towards humanity. Sticking out like a sore thumb. Being quiet in groups, yet omnipresent. People have vague feelings of mistrust towards you. Getting walked all over. Having clear boundaries is important. Don’t feel uncaring for being direct– your security is important and most aren’t as open as you!

Ex: Albert Einstein, Hillary Clinton, Mozart, Nicki Minaj, Robin Williams, George Harrison, William Shakespeare, Frida Kahlo, Shia Labeouf

12TH HOUSE– This is Neptune in its home, so these people can accidentally be the most Neptunian of all. Whatever is in the 12th house is a “big secret”, subconsciously repressed, but the thing about secrets is that they seep into everything. Neptune in the 12th house is secretly hypersensitive. Part of them wants to slip away and never be seen again. The 12th house is everything- a reflection of every sign and then some- so EVERYTHING is a sacrifice with this placement. They’re easily absorbed into what’s going on around them, but nothing really compares to their inner world. The inner world is soft and warm and always morphing into some new kaleidoscopic shape. It’s never stagnant like reality, utterly predictable in its dull human colors and rigid shapes. It’s not surprising for these people to be shut-ins, allowing them a boundary for self-reflection. They feel guilty for how content they are entirely alone(the rest of the chart interferes ofc.) Hiding away from everything uncomfortable isn’t the answer, but neither is blind sacrifice. Finding a way to express this private sea of symbols in a way that is tangible to everyone around them and, most importantly, to themselves is important.

Ex: Prince, Salvador Dali, Nikola Tesla, Winona Ryder, Hillary Duff, Joan of Arc, Erykah Badu, Sid Vicious

[easkyrah]

Writing Tips

By yours truly, Ea SkyrAHHHHHHHHHHH because how does one write?!?!??? I shall attempt to do the justice as requested without coming across sappy and superior. I would like to put it out there whoever said writing was easy doesn’t know how to write; look at me, already going on a tangent. So I’m just going to leave this here for now, but edit and add on as time proceeds. Note that these tips work for me, but do not have to work for you!

Be realistic to yourself

One thing I’ve noticed is that most fan-fiction writers conform to the type of writing style of the author in the fandom. While this does draw more attention to the fics and appeal to the general audience, this does not promote the writer’s own style. 

Most fan-fiction writers aspire to become authors. Play around with writing styles. Personally, I’ve toyed with hyphens a lot after becoming hooked with Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry, and started using more ellipses after reading Sarah J. Maas’s works. 

However, Poe uses a plethora of commas and exclamation marks. Maas utilizes myriad of fragments. This doesn’t mean you must incorporate all aspects of another’s. For example, when varying sentence length, I tend to use alliteration—extended with hyphens—perhaps finalized with an ellipse...

Take what you need and flesh it into your own writing style. Take what you love and build what you want. Take what you see and observe your own style emerge. But never, ever feel forced to wedge your words into other works.  

Are you a fluff writer? A smut writer? An angst writer? If you tend to lean towards one genre, don’t jerk yourself in another to attempt to “be more diverse, learn how to write more, etc”. Don’t force yourself into a direction that is not you. 

Doing so allows writer’s block to seep. Doing so means that your writing is now not reflective of who you are and what you want your writing to come across as. 

Trying out new writing types is great, don’t get me wrong. But if you’re not doing it for yourself, for your own experimental purposes, then you lose that passion in writing. 

Once you lose that passion in writing, you lose the senses captured in the writing. And if you’re not happy with your writing, then chances are, your readers will not be happy with it either.

Channel the Characters

Most people agree that the plot is the heart of the story, yeah? If so, then the characters are the blood, the essence of life that circulates around, the makes us cherish or condone the story. If there’s no characters, or blood, there’s not story, or life. 

Characters have their own unique personality: they react differently in varying scenarios; they have their own personal ghosts, flaws, and vices. With all these facets and more, it’s hard to piece together a plot that resounds to each of the character’s fundamental pillars.

What I do is pretend I am the character, not am I seeing through the character’s eyes. In fan-fiction, you don’t have to exactly follow the same lines of the original characterization. You’re allowed to have a Dark![name], or even Switch. That’s why OC’s gain such popularity nowadays. 

You can hold the character with one hand, and have he/she have the other folded into the original pages. You do not have to fold the characters around the plot. You can have a crack character. That is okay. Do not let your mind conform to the characterization. 

If a character does something small as small as waggling his/her eyebrows to something large as tracking down your family’s location across the seas from separation since youth and bringing them to you despite others planning contingencies against you, which also takes time away from plotting to gain $$$ since you’re all about greed: I’m just SOC trash, then piece together those small skins of sanctuary in your fics. 

That repeated idea will elicit familiarity from your readers. Not only will it seem like you’re just deep in the fandom as the next person, but also will make you a credible writer. Details are the cells in the story’s body. If you can capture them, then you can write the fic.

So when you think of characters, you probably think of the heroine or hero first, yeah? For me, at least, I think of the villain. The villain can be the environment, the mind of the protagonist, or a physical entity. Without the opposition, the character’s response, inner strength, and/or Achilles’ Heel does not manifest. 

Who is the villain in your fic? How will he or she challenge the protagonist? Is your villain a flat type, or will he or she undergo character development? Is she insane and fickle, keeping readers on their toes? Or is he beyond strong that he can smash the protagonist to the floor, creating mutual hatred and a cycle? Is their fates intertwined to the point where Priestess Chay-ara and Prince Khufu have their fate encircled by Vandal’s Savage (DC trash)?

The villain challenges the protagonist’s beliefs. Whether if it’s outright as the devil whispering in his or her ear, or indirect as having the protagonist save a child or an elder, the main character and his or her response will determine his or her own characterization. 

His or her flaws will be revealed. Is he obsessed with tracking down the villain? Is she lazy to follow through her sense of duty? Is he a stringent, judge-type character? Is she a morally gray character? Does he have a twisted conscience? Does she strike up a deal with the villain? Does she does so for greed or for self-sacrificial purposes?

You can spin the villain in so many ways to shape the plot. What if the main villain was bullied into his or her own the present assessment? Break the trope that the villain victimizes others so they can play the victim. Or will you follow the emerging trope: make the protagonist a bad guy (because he’s threatened? because she’s under mind control?), and only the villain can stop the lead character after fighting him or her for so long.   

At Large

In the end, sometimes I really don’t care about the plot or the characters. I don’t care about the snazzy dialogue or elegant symbolism    I care about how this overall piece made you feel. Did you cringe? Cry? Smile? Laugh? Those responses allow writers to see how to flesh their writing. 

If the writings elicit feeling, then you’ve accomplished beyond scratching the surface. You’ve given human qualities to pages, and given personality to characters. You’ve exploited the emotions, and that in itself is more than talent. 

Repetition is no easy aspect to use. If you repeat words such as “lips” or “walls”, that dulls the entire writing. Use synonyms that appeal to you, but do not essentially change your writing style. Doing so only exacerbates the piece at whole. 

Your word choice defines who you are as a writer. The jump from “postponing” to “procrastinating” is no large one, but going from “impromptu” to “extemporaneous” is. Having one technical word in a fluff fic creates inconsistency. 

With this, I tend to read certain scenes aloud. Doing so allows me to see if the sentences flow, and also adds an emphasis on the syllables, which have stressed and unstressed sounds. 

Following the sounds also allows more similar words and something congruous to follow up. I tend to highlight variance in sentence length, and doing so means that each word has to be concise, and chosen carefully.

At Small

Flatter yourself. You are a writer. The eyes are the window to the soul? Pffft, it’s the words that are that, and the key to the heart. You are conquering realms, immersing yourself in the imagination, and jumping across cultures. 

If you’re attempting to write, do not multitask. Trust me, you get nowhere doing that. Sit down, and imagine. Close your eyes, and see what you want to happen. Take a journey down through the details. 

Personally, I don’t plan when I write. I write on whims. It’s a talent if you can sit down, feeling dry, and conjure up words. To circumvent writer’s block, I take a stroll down Pinterest, talk to other users, or don’t think about writing at all. Often I find that when I’m running a recovery run, that’s often when the creative juices leak. Find your outlet. 

We all have other talents or topics we’re experts on. For me, as a cross country and track and field runner, running’s my specialty. I’m no Olympian, but if you can weave in facts that flow in scenes (e.g. Cassian attempting to train Nesta in ACOWAR), then you build credibility piece by piece. 

If you have a green thumb, perhaps incorporate your knowledge of plants and the environment into fics. You could create an AU where there’s plants versus zombies (like the app), and have the characters zombies. Or perhaps you can create a fluff scene where the manliest character actually knows about flowers and has his soul mate swooning over him because of that fact. Now I’m just rambling, oh wells.

Many readers are becoming concerned with ethnicity. This is going to be hard to tackle. But if you’re writing a fan-fiction, you don’t necessarily have to detail all the looks of a character. I personally tend to stray away from saying “small eyes” to reference to Asian characters, because one, I find that offensive, and two, not very artistically written. Instead, if describing appearances in new environments, I focus on the details that are altered. Does that even make sense??

Do, not tell. That’s one essential mantra I have to repeat to myself. Don’t say a character’s “mean and cold and crude” right off the bat. Instead, demonstrate such qualities through actions. Don’t say a character’s a sick sadist. Show the reader how the character is one. 

Yes, 99% of male characters are hot as heck, rocking those muscular bods, but perhaps go beyond that? I protest that having broad shoulders, often one detail given by writers, is a sign of being hella hot and out of this world handsome. 

You can manipulate the tropes to make readers fall in love with characters. For example, the mysterious, violent detective has his determined significant other tucking sunflowers in his hair keeps every flower and upon asking his SO to marriage, he sweeps her away to a sunflower field. Keep the environment mysterious, reflecting the male’s own character, by having the proposal at dusk or dawn. 

When world-building, which is essential in AU’s for fan-fictions, space out the facts in the world. Perhaps have a billboard displaying one of the rules society has to follow. Have the character speak one of the despised government regulations through his or her own unique dialogue. 

OH AND THE OXFORD COMMA. If there’s not that third comma, I tend to just stop reading the fic. It’s not a huuuuge deal, but it always triggers me. I’m just biased like that so please just kindly turn away from me I just don’t understand. 

I’m skipping sooo much, but feel free to add on. I’ll be revising this as I think upon this more, but these were what I could think of at the top of my head. 

[dracox-serdriel]

Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 30: Sisyphus, He Sat upon his Rock

Lament of the Asphodels

Title: Sisyphus, He Sat upon His Rock Author: Dracox Serdriel Artist: @liamjcnes Artwork: Post 1 | Post 2 Word count: 4,700 Rating: NC-17/Explicit (except on FF) Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, Graphic sexual content, Declaration/threats of sexual violence, Minor character death, Social stigmatization/abuse, Detailed descriptions of hopelessness/depression/inner turmoil, Descriptions of the effects of extreme phobias/social anxiety, including anthropophobia, thalassophobia/hydrophobia, and hylophobia/dendrophobia, Descriptions of shipwrecks and storms at sea

Read Lament of the Asphodels on FF, AO3, LJ, or start at the beginning on Tumblr. Written as part of @captainswanbigbang.

Chapter 30: Sisyphus, He Sat upon His Rock

Emma opened her eyes under a sky awash with stars with the soothing rhythm of the ever-moving water rippling beneath her. Her lips curled slightly as her hands grazed a familiar surface of coarse wood, and she reached out for the only missing piece that plundered this moment's perfection.

Where's Killian?

The thought struck a sobering block that ignited the shroud of complacency around her, and all at once, pain, hunger, and thirst set upon her as kites to carrion. Ropes tore at her raw and bleeding wrists, and chains burned against her ankles and bare feet. She struggled fruitlessly, her efforts blunted by her sapped strength. Panic descended upon her, for she had been bound and cast adrift, possibly days ago. And Killian was... Cora had said he was gone.

"You are awake," someone said.

The voice was soft and warm with a hint of caution, and though she never before had heard it, she felt the resonance of a shared past. It was a weak glimmer in the dark, but it was all she had to grasp. She yanked herself up into a sitting position and slumped against the stern.

The man in the rower's seat was smaller than she expected, though by no means slight nor short. In many ways, he was exactly average, with calloused hands and a weariness in his face that had nothing to do with his advanced age. His scalp was bald, safe for tufts of white hair over each ear. Despite the perceived connection, she recognized nothing of this man except his eyes. She had seen them somewhere before, certainly, but not him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"I'm no one important," he replied. "And we are presently rowing not far from Stagrock Light."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "But circumstances as they are, you can imagine the answer is... unpleasant. Let's talk about something else."

She sucked in a breath and shook her head, no. She was too tired, too beaten, too wounded to trade banter with someone who surely was one of her kidnappers.

"Tell me about your son," he suggested.

Fury erupted inside her at the thought of this man daring to threaten her child. She couldn't have contained it if she desired such a thing.

"If you even think about harming my son - "

He interrupted, "I would never do something so vile! I only meant to suggested a pleasant topic of conversation."

Emma was incensed and indignant, but even that did not stop her so-called 'superpower' from recognizing that he was, in fact, speaking the truth. Not just about never harming her son, but everything he said had been true.

She measured her breathing and resisted the urge to lash out at her captor. The silence extended, broken only by the gentle slap of oar against water, and, very slowly, her anger burned lower and lower, till it was naught but a simmering, smoking ember.

"He loves stories," she said, starting quietly. "Writing them, reading them... graphic novels used to be his favorite, but recently he started to really love the classics. I guess it happened before we went to Camelot, but after our trip there, all of a sudden he was making a trip to the library every other day. He never loses faith. He never stops believing. I don't know where he gets that kind of optimism. Not from me or his father... or his adoptive mother, either."

It was odd that the man hadn't batted an eye at that last statement, for it wasn't common practice in this realm for adopted children or orphans to meet their biological parents. She couldn't recall a single story about any such person even looking for blood relations.

"He sounds like a wonderful young man," he commented.

"He is," she replied. "Why do you care?"

"I have found that caring is the only real tonic for this world," he explained. "Caring, in the face of everything."

"What's your name?" she asked, not sure how else to steer the conversation.

The man's face broke into a wide smile, bright and true, that lit up the whole of his person, casting off several decades with the shadows.

"My lady, surely you know," he said jovially. "My name is Henry."

She started, not expecting to hear her own son's name, yet he had assumed that she had known already. There was no reason why. She had never met him before.

"Henry," she repeated as an idea dawned on her.

"Regina's father," he added. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss Swan."

"How - how do you know me?"

"You visited my grave," he replied. "And Cora told me of you, though she was too busy portraying you in a dark light to convey any truths."

"You know who... what Cora is?"

"Sadly, all too well."

"Then why help her?" she asked. "After all she's done?"

He gave her a morose smirk as he replied, "She may never have loved me, but she is the reason I have Regina. And despite herself, she did love our daughter. Besides, if it wasn't me, she would recruit someone else, and she would not do it kindly."

"Why are we rowing in circles around Stagrock Light?" she asked. "I don't care how unpleasant your answer is."

"Cora wants nothing more than to leave this place," he explained. "There is but one way for a soul to escape the Underworld."

"A trade of souls," she said, cottoning on. "But we're in the Underworld, so how does that work? The spell you're talking about only works when cast in a realm of the living."

"Apparently, the spell can free her soul to leave in exchange for trapping another," he said. "Thereafter, can escape, so long as she finds the door."

"The door?" she repeated incredulously. "The Underworld has a door?"

"Door, portal, exist... something to that effect."

"That still doesn't explain why we're circling Stagrock."

Of course, speaking those words fueled a theory that made her silent. Her face must've betrayed the thought, for Henry held his tongue.

"Cora thinks it's here," she said. "The exit."

"She doesn't want you to escape through it before she completes the ritual," he confirmed quietly. "I considered facilitating your escape, but I fear we wouldn't get far. I can barely see beyond the boat."

"It's all right," she replied. "Now that Cora's found me, outrunning her isn't really an option."

Emma and Henry let a lapse of silence fall between them. At some point, sleep captured her, letting the rest of the dark hours pass in the blink of an eye. When she woke, she was bound in the center of the rowboat, which was moored to a dock. She fought to sit up, but she was pinned down somehow... almost certainly by magic.

It took her several minutes of desperate trying before she accepted that brute force would not be enough to free her. As she caught her breath, her ears sharpened, picking up on two voices carried by some combination of wind and water.

"Cora, please, I beg you to reconsider," Henry pleaded. "This is a dangerous risk."

"Darling, darling," Cora replied. "I'm touched by your concern, but we both know it's not for me."

"He lives for nothing but cruelty."

"All great rulers must be feared," she said. "Only the bravest, most brazen subject dare approach a leader like that. It weeds out the weak and others unsuited for the reward."

"That man could strike you down to ash!"

The sound of choking came across the water.

"He's not a man, he's a god!" Cora snapped.

There was a horrific crunch followed by a short, wicked chuckle. Emma's heart began to pound hard in her chest as an anticipation of dread crept up on her, washing over all of her faculties.

Magic - her magic - reared up inside her like an incensed serpent, ready to explode into action at her command, and she channeled everything inside of her, from sorrow to fury, into the power born of True Love. She cast away every thought until her sole obsession was freedom. Her bindings withered, frayed, and fell away, and the wind shifted, as if a nearby wall had been removed.

She went still and held her breath, straining her ears so she could hear anyone approaching. There was nothing but the wind, so she sat upright only to be hit by a wave of dizziness as black spots rolled through her vision. It was potent enough to stay her from standing in the gently-swaying boat, lest she topple into the salty sea for lack of balance.

As she waited for the spell to pass, she wondered after her deportment. She certainly seemed a sorry sight, if not for her bare feet and frayed garment, then for the tangled mess that had once been her hair. Her lips were chapped, and any skin that wasn't red or bleeding was horribly dry. She was so parched and ravenously hungry that she entertained slipping her captor for no reason other than to slake those needs that distracted her.

Distractions, however, remained a luxury she could not afford. For whatever reason, the magic binding her powers had waned, and while Cora was far from infallible, she rarely left things to chance. In all likelihood, the witch had set Emma free on purpose to draw her into the depths of whatever fiendish plan that unfolded in these very moments. Emma was ragged, injured, and without allies, and there was no upper hand to be had.

I cut off his head and banished his body from this realm.

The cruel monotone of Cora's words echoed in Emma's head, and her soul filled with the kind of wrath that collapses empires and valleys the highest mountain. Cora's curt statements, devoid of apology and concern, cut deep into the oldest, most wounded parts of Emma, drumming up the agony she concealed with half-truths and broken promises.

He would never stop trying to save you, to defend you...

Then her heart joined the fray, echoing the sentiments and the loss that she felt, and fury nested its foothold somewhere that no light ever dared touch. Cora murdered Killian because of his devotion and love, and she told Emma about it as if remarking on the weather or discussing something as bald and common as felling a tree. And then she delighted in the agony she inflicted.

I couldn't have that.

Had there ever been any element of her soul that dared resist the desire to destroy the evil witch who slew her love, it was surely snuffed out by those last remembered words. Killian died because Cora couldn't allow him to live, and as sure as she was Emma Swan, she swore that Cora's own words would damn her into whatever the next hell looked like.

She hadn't noticed the brewing storm that snuffed out the weak morning light, nor had she witnessed thick and heavy fog running across the water and enveloping the lighthouse. When she rose inside the tiny craft, she could see nothing in front of her, yet her feet knew instinctively where to go and how to step. With every step, her body tensed, and magic rose from the core of her soul to the surface. By the third step, she was a radiant warrior, illuminated with silver-red light that no light to which no light could ever compare.

She vaguely registered Henry's collapsed body leaning against the outer wall of the lighthouse, but as he was no threat to her, she ignored him entirely and continued to the main doorway, where Cora waited.

"I see you've found your magic," Cora said. "Well done. But I'm afraid it's come too late. There's nothing you can do to stop it now."

The smugness with which she spoke and her complete lack of fear merely contributed to Emma's rage, and though she knew of no spell that could kill nor had weapon to best the witch with, she had every intention of ripping her enemy to shreds and banishing her from this realm. Just as she did to Killian.

"I don't care," Emma replied.

Cora's face faltered for a moment, but she quickly reestablished her air of dignified control. A patronizing smirk spread across her face.

"Do you mean to kill me, Emma Swan?" she asked.

Emma closed her eyes and screamed, and with her voice came a violent rush of energy that was simultaneously fire, ice, and lightning.

There was a fraction of a moment, a fleeting flicker, where Cora realized her time had come and failed to school her features. It was but an instant, however, before the furious magic struck her and made any expression she may have worn meaningless. The blast casted her into the sky, and the fog and wind went with her, curling around her like a snack crushing vermin. As to Cora's survival or where she or her remains landed, no one could ever say, save for the fact that the fog traveled to the Northmost Point, to the great ice caps of Northedge.

Emma knew nothing of this, for the instant that she released the wrathful powers within, the will inside her crumbled. She had lost too much to lie to herself about the nature of her life, for being the Savior condemned her to a lifetime of sacrifices. Being born of True Love never meant that she had any hope of finding such a thing for herself, and when she did find it, she fought it. She resisted until it was too late to have, and then she followed that love into the Underworld on the foolish notion that all she need do was fight and good things would happen. She wondered in this moment if she had known this all along and deceived herself, that she could transmute her final act of self-destruction into an act of the heart. She was forced to concede that the possibility existed, and with that single admission, a thousand questions circled her like predators as every certainty she held became a doubt.

And it was too much for her to bare. Then even her condemned her, for the last thing she saw before defeat's maw closed around her was a horse suspended in the sky. That was impossible, even in the Underworld.

So she closed her eyes, and darkness took her.

Killian could not see the events that transpired beneath him, for riding a winged horse required an awkward position, lest his legs press against the wing joins. He didn't know why Pegasus returned to him after they parted ways on the beach, and he cared not for reasons any longer. What his eyes could not tell him, his heart translated all too clearly, and he knew Emma was in trouble. So he accepted his new companion's boon without preamble, and his only hope was that he would not soon regret the choice.

As they neared the lighthouse, a blurring roar of thunder crashed before them, and Pegasus flinched at the sound, rearing back and changing direction in a heartbeat. Before Killian could urge the steed to correct his course, however, a mist passed over them, moving with curious speed. Normally the touch of fog was cold and wet, but this seared and smarted as it rolled over them both. He grunted against his steed's back, but the stallion made no indication of ill feeling. Perhaps Pegasus was immune to such magic.

Then everything stopped, down to the wind and the waves. It was impossible, of course, for the tides were a force of nature that nothing could oppose. Yet his ears, which lacked nothing in ability, could discern no trace of them or the wind. He risked a glance down over Pegasus's shoulder and wing and discovered that his hearing did not betray him, for the world was absolutely still.

The lighthouse, encircled by a sea serpent that appeared chiseled from the same stone, stood alone in a motionless sea, and a figure radiated light that rivaled the sun and so bright was her luminosity that he forced himself to look away for fear of blindness. All this transpired the span of a second, though to him it seemed an infinity thereof.

Yet it did end. That was to say, everything was as it was supposed to be, as if nothing had ceased to begin with. Killian could no longer rightly feel the directions nor sense where they were, so disorienting was the surge of return, but Pegasus turned again, leaving his rider with hope that they had corrected course.

Heat flared against his skin, quickening into a flame that he could not ignore. His hook awkwardly dug out the fiery token in his possession, and the amber cube that Hippolyta had given to him shined with red and gray light. He cursed himself for piercing its edge, for it seemed as if it might spill out at any second, surely consuming steed and rider alike. He held it aloft on the desperate hope that they might land before it burst; otherwise, he would have to drop it into the sea.

There was a clattering of hooves as they landed atop Stagrock, and Killian, unprepared, felt his body ripple harshly, every muscle sore and throbbing. He patted Pegasus's great neck again and murmured his praise and thanks before dismounting, careful to keep the growing ember at arm's length.

"Thank you, Old Boy!" he said.

Then he raced down the lighthouse, falling more than climbing the latter, and he hardly cared that his already-strained body protested every jarring leap and every misstep. He couldn't risk the flame expanding anywhere but its true home, the beacon room, for it would surely consume even the stone on which he stood.

He didn't even descend into it; no, he opened the hatch, leaned in at the waist, and flicked the amber box from his hook, angling for the curving corner. He didn't wait to see if he had struck his mark, and it was a proper thing to do. No sooner had it touched the floor of the beacon room that the Unending Flame regained its full and glorious light and erupted into a blinding beacon. Its shine took several minutes to fade, for its brilliance always adjusted to the realm.

The immediate danger dealt with, Killian remembered his reason for return as well as the distressing fog that rolled through him on his journey here. Though his flesh begged for rest, he could not allow it. Emma was in danger.

He raced down the inner steps. He wondered if new stairs appeared to spite him, for it seemed as if they doubled in number since last he climbed them. He took them two at a time, yet still he felt himself moving at a snail's pace. He chose to leap over far too many in the basement, his back protesting at the violent landing, yet he continued as if he felt no pain.

The doorway still had no covering over them, so he saw Emma lying on the ground, only a few paces from a man he didn't recognize. Both were unconscious. So keen was his focus that he didn't register the scorch marks as he cross over them.

"Emma!" he shouted as he lifted her in his arms. "Emma! Can you hear me, love?"

His fingers felt a pulse, strong and true, but it failed to bring him any relief. She was alive but badly injured, and he was hardly in a good way. Could he safely bring her inside before his own body gave out?

"Emma, love," he said quietly. "Please, Emma... please."

She twitched in his arms, then shifted, as if to get comfortable. He hesitated, afraid to believe that she was coming around when all reality told him it was at best wishful thinking. But then her eyes fluttered opened, and the beautiful jade emeralds that she hid behind her lids appeared like they had done a hundred thousand times before.

"Killian," she mumbled.

She lifted her hand, and he grasped it in his own. Joy - true, unbounded joy - filled his heart, and he pulled her close to him, lifting her head so he could hold her properly.

Her eyes fell upon the battered doorway before her, and with a flick of her wrist, wood from the heaviest oak in all the realms collected like moths to a flame. Metalwork also appeared, and suddenly a new frame and door rested against the lighthouse, which glimmered as if restored to its youngest days.

"It's beautiful," he said quietly. "But save your strength, love."

He helped her to her feet as gently as possible, though for all his trouble, she was far steadier than he. She grabbed his collar and brought his lips down over hers, and her lips and tongue made him question who was the greater pirate. Together they collapsed against the outer wall before the door, panting and laughing.

"Who is he?" Killian asked, waving his hand at the man only a few paces from them.

"Nobody important," someone else answered.

And just like that, his joy vanished, for the speaker had a voice like ice and fire, cruel and uncaring. Killian pushed Emma behind him and reached for his cutlass before he realized it was not there.

"Tut, tut," the speaker said. "There's a time and place, and this isn't it."

The man who stepped out of the shadows - which was particularly disturbing as it was morning and there were no shadows from which to step - had the air of a gentleman. He had a suit of fine quality and matching Fedora held in hand. There was no doubt that he was royalty of some kind, it was in his air and manner but also in his face and hands.

"Hades," Emma said, stepping out so she was shoulder to shoulder with Killian.

"You recognize me?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," she replied. "But Cora called you, didn't she?"

"She summoned me," he replied.

"To what end?" Killian asked.

"Waste of time, really," he said. "She wanted to trade souls, but as you already know, that kind of thing can't happen. Not with our deal."

"Our deal?" Killian repeated.

"Ah, yes, Mister Jones, not you," Hades said. "Just me and Miss Swan here."

"You made a deal with Hades?" Killian asked her.

"Oh she made a deal," Hades spoke before she could. "A blood deal. It was a very bad idea. And I still can't see why she did it."

"Our deal said no interference," she said.

Truthfully, she could not remember the terms of their deal, but she imagined if no one could trade souls with her, other obvious safety measures must've been put in place.

"Technically, I can do whatever I want, with some minor restrictions," he bristled. "I'll admit it. I never thought you'd come this far. Too bad about Pegasus. Had that other lady not let you go, we could've counted that as number ten. But, alas, here you are, nine labors done with none to serve as your tenth."

"How can that be?" Killian asked. "This is the Underworld."

"I keep a clean house," Hades replied. "Besides, you had, what, eleven, twelve opportunities? I've lost count. If you haven't done ten yet, you never will."

"That's not what we agreed," Emma said.

"Hmmm," he commented. "I'm not here to stop you. Far from it. It serves me better if you succeed."

"Then help us succeed."

Hades smiled and blue flame erupted atop his head, and some part of him came to the surface before it burned out.

"You weren't the first," Hades began. "A long time ago, a venomous serpent bite a woman named Eurydice on her wedding day, and she died a few hours later. Her husband, Orpheus, couldn't accept her demise. He was a poet and musician, so what hope did he have in the Underworld, where only the greatest warriors hoped to survive?

"But his music... well, it was special. His music defeated the singing of the sirens, that's how beautiful it was. So he took up his lyre and played the sweetest melodies and cast Cerberus and every other guardian the Underworld has into a deep, deep sleep. He crept by the elm where ivory dreams cling and through the gates, then down, down, down... until he found her. But before they could leave, my judges captured them both and brought them to a tribune to decide their fates. Though truth be told, the decision was made before they were even discovery. More of a formality.

"And there Orpheus stood, in front of deities the likes of which he only knew by the praise in his songs, and he asks for an audience. It was granted, so he played his lyre, and the tune... I've never heard its rival nor its equal in all my long life. All the blessed saints of Apollo had not played half as well before or ever since. To call it beautiful would be blasphemy.

"Even so, it was only music, and no matter the depth of its majesty, it ended like all other music. Every judge recovered from the tune and cast it off, like it never happened. Deities are spoiled with all kinds of splendor, and even we can miss something of real value when we see it. I confess, I certainly did. To me he was just one more mortal trying to cheat his fare, and no matter his talent, he should be no exception.

"But then I looked up and saw something that I hadn't seen in all my alive. A long time before even Eurydice's death, there was a man named King Sisyphus, a cunning man. I'll spare you the details, but he earned a very special punishment in the Underworld. He was told he could escape, and all he had to do was to push a boulder up a steep hill. He wasn't told that Zeus himself enchanted that stone to roll back down the to the bottom before it ever reached the top. Sisyphus is a man of impossible imagination and intelligence doomed to an eternity of frustration and futility. In fact, his intellect is part of the reason that he continues to move that rock. Sisyphus believes - honestly believes - that his cunning will save him from this, even after all this time. He can't stop. Not because anyone is forcing him to keep going. Oh, no, that would hardly be punishment. No, he can't stop because he's too smart to stop. Yes, Zeus designed his punishment very well.

"By all accounts, Sisyphus's plight is unending, except for a single respite. The stories go that Orpheus descended into the Underworld and played music in memory of his wife Eurydice, and his tune was so profound that all the world, from the Underworld to Mount Olympus, fell silent that they may hear. But truly, the greatness of his playing can be found in nothing more than this: a man damned by deities and condemned by his own mind to the point of a hardened soul stilled his endless efforts and sat upon the rock, that he could listen to the music and indulge in a fleeting moment of tears.

"Never before had Sisyphus halted his work, let alone settle on the stone as if it weren't his to move. So while my wary ear and jaded heart couldn't accept the truth of Orpheus's music, I saw its power," Hades said.

He folded his hands, weaving his fingers together, placing his palms delicately over his suit. He seemed calm, collected, composed, hardly like a deity ready to lash out at those before him. Then he waved two fingers, and the unconscious man vanished.

"I let that man lead his wife out of the Underworld," Hades said quietly. "Not for winning a prize fight or seducing me. Not for charming me or presenting me with adequate tribute. No, I allowed it because Sisyphus, he sat upon his rock. Remember that."

Then Hades disappeared, leaving Emma and Killian clinging one another outside the freshly relit Beacon of Northedge.

End-of-chapter notes: In Greek myth, Sisyphus lived as the king of Ephyra, a cunning and crafty man whose avarice and deceit earned him a special punishment in Tartarus upon his final repose. Sisyphus was forced to push a huge boulder up a steep hill; unfortunately, Zeus enchanted the boulder to roll down to the bottom before it reached the top, forcing Sisyphus into an eternity of frustration and futility.

Many myths and legends describe Sisyphus's unending plight, which has but a single moment of respite. After Orpheus descended into the Underworld, he petitioned the gods with music in memory of his wife Eurydice, and what he played was of such profound beauty that all the world, from the Underworld to the heavens of Mount Olympus, fell silent. It was so moving that it even touched the hardened soul of Sisyphus, who stilled his endless efforts and sat upon his rock for a fleeting moment of tears.

For next and previous chapters, proceed to the Lament of the Asphodels main Tumblr page.

[bethebean66]

Best Albums of 2016

Allllright friends! That time of the year is finally here! Or, well... It came and went really. But, I was sick at the New Year, and my family was busy bumping our holidays, so my schedule was all out of whack. Now though! Is finally the time... My year end list of the best albums of 2016!

This was a pretty strange year for music for me. One of my favorite albums came out right away. One of them was released basically out of nowhere. A handful of top albums I never would have put on there any other year. And, another chunk just completely surprised me and have to be mentioned here.

No real use chatting away. Getting right into things, here's my top 25 albums of the year; with a quick rundown of my 25-11:

25. Béyonce — Lemonade 24. Conor Oberst — Ruminations 23. NxWorries — Yes Lawd! 22. Kaytranada — 99.9% 21. Blood Orange — Freetown Sound 20. Angel Olsen — My Woman 19. Wilco — Schmilco 18. Run the Jewels — Run the Jewels 3 17. Kamaiyah — A Good Night in the Ghetto 16. Flume — Skin 15. Leonard Cohen — You Want It Darker 14. James Blake — The Colour of Anything 13. Car Seat Headrest — Teens of Denial 12. Radiohead — A Moon Shaped Pool 11. Bon Iver — 22, A Million

Trust me, ordering those wasn't the easiest. Some real random albums on there, for me at least. A lot more smaller names than I ever list. And, a lot more music from the hip-hop world. Also, I'm pretty sure I've never placed Radiohead, Bon Iver, or James Blake outside of my top 10. With these fifteen out of the way though, onto the good part of the list! Here we go folks, my top ten albums of 2016...

10. A Tribe Called Quest — We got it from Here... Thank You 4 Your Service 18 YEARS. Eighteen years it had been since we last got an album from one of hip-hop's great acts. Drawing from formulas Tribe has proved successful, We got it from Here demonstrates why this group has remained in the upper echelon of artists, even in their absence. With deep influences of East Coast hip-hop, classic jazz undertones, guests spots from both long-time Tribe friends Busta Rhymes and Consequence, as well as current kings like Kendrick Lamar, Kanye West, Andre 3000, Anderson .Paak—Even a perfectly placed drop from the late former member Phife Dawg—this was arguably the best hip-hop album, and best surprise album of the year.

Favorite Tracks: We the People..., Dis Generation, Kids...

9. Vince Staples — Prima Donna This one is sort of sneaking onto the list. I typically don't include EP's. But, Prima Donna had to be on this list. You get five seconds into War Ready, and you'll understand exactly why (hint: it has to do with a brilliantly used sample of Outkast/Andre 3000). Just seven tracks and twenty-one minutes long, this albums comes with a heavy punch right to your chest. Vince is a force to be reckoned with in this game. If you don't know his name yet, you're going to soon.

Favorite Tracks: War Ready, Smile, Big Time

8. Solange — A Seat at the Table Yes, Solange made the better album of the Knowles sisters. Every year has an album that takes a political stance, covers our current events, touches on topics at hand—This is that album. A Seat at the Table brings funk, soul, and R&B blended together to deliver a message of empowerment, grief, healing, and weariness. We brush on prejudice, and struggles with racism in the current culture—in a way that truly speaks to you as a listener. Solange changed her sound and style, and she landed in a space I hope she plans to stay.

Favorite Tracks: Cranes in the Sky, Don't Touch My Hair, Don't You Wait

7. Anderson .Paak — Malibu Okay, yes, I'm going to get flack from the crew over at VNYL for placing this so low (really, is 7 even low?). But, it still made the list! Put it this way, .Paak had one of the best years of anyone not named Chance or Donald Glover. He was everywhere (including earlier on my list). This dude not only has one of the most soulful voices, best bands, and killer features—he appeared on practically every big album of the last couple of years. .Paak and Malibu have drawn similarities to both Stevie Wonder and Kendrick Lamar. The most difficult thing to do to this album is categorize it. Blurring more lines than a horrible 2013 pop hit, Malibu reaches Funk, R&B, Soul, Hip-Hop, and a number of smaller sub-genres. This is an album for music fans, even if you doubt you'd like it. Put this on, and play it loud. You'll be dancing to it before the end of the opening track.

Favorite Tracks: Am I Wrong, Silicon Valley, Heart Don't Stand A Chance

6. Sturgill Simpson — A Sailor's Guide to Earth A lot of people first heard Simpson's name from his beautiful cover of In Bloom. I so hope that you dove into this Grammy nominated album (Album of the Year and Best Country Album). Described as a "modern Waylon Jennings," Simpson is making country music for non-country fans. A more personal album than I ever expected, A Sailor's Guide is a letter written to his wife and newborn son while stationed away for the Navy. Singing over Sharon Jones' Dap-Kings, Simpson wrote and performed one of my favorite concept albums in recent memory. If this is the future of country music, consider me sold.

Favorite Tracks: Breakers Roar, Sea Stories, In Bloom

5. Chance the Rapper — Coloring Book Another sort of cheat on the list, as I don't typically include mixtures either. But, when the mixtape is better than most everything else released that year—on the list it goes! With elements of hip-hop, gospel, and rap, Chance has never shined so bright. Put it this way, while recording, Chance was able to get the following artists on board: Kanye West, Justin Bieber, Francis and the Lights, Justin Bieber, and Ty Dolla Sign. He even locked down Kirk Franklin and the Chicago Children's Choir. There's a reason he played for President Obama so many times. Honestly, there isn't a lot to say about this album. It's a must listen. So, just go do that.

Favorite Tracks: No Problem, Blessings, All Night

4. Gallant — Ology From the opening note of Ology, you can tell you're in for a treat. And then... And then you hear Gallant's falsetto. That incredible falsetto. Truthfully, I don't know if I've ever heard a more impressive introduction to a debut album. Gallant is a force. A voice this big, yet it feels as though you're peering into a room of just him and his pains. This album starts on a high note (figuratively and literally), and just builds and binds as you listen. Drawing the attention from artists such as Frank Ocean, Seal, even Prince, Gallant finally found his voice and gifted us the album he's waited his entire life to make. And we couldn't be more thankful.

Favorite Tracks: Bourbon, Skipping Stones, Bone + Tissue

3. Frank Ocean — Blond(e) Yes, I attached/didn't attach the "e." Debate as you'd like. Is this a digital vs physical release thing? Is it a deeper gender rooted one from Frank himself? Right now, it's because whichever version you take, I'm talking about that one. This year, we were not only graced with the long awaited follow-up to 2012's phenomenal Channel Orange, but we were given TWO albums from Frank. Because Endless was never officially released in anything but video format, I'm not going to cover it. Blonde though... This album was everything we waited for and so much more. Full of twists and turns, loose ends and sprawling melodies, there are so many elements here that seem out of place, yet work as strengths. Carefully crafted landscapes weave us through the deep emotions Frank seems to shelter from everyone. We get a glimpse at the romantic, at the beauty, the depth that makes Frank Frank. This album was vastly different than his previous. This album is sparse, it's vacant, but not hollow. You're in an empty room, but there's so space to move. Pitchfork said it perfectly, stating, "These songs are not for marching, but they still serve a purpose. They’re about everyday lives, about the feat of just existing, which is a statement in its own right."

Favorite Tracks: Solo, Pink + White, Nights, White Ferrari

2. Childish Gambino — Awaken, My Love I've been a fan of Gambino for the very beginning. The nerdy hipster that raps about Freaks and Geeks, and Sufjan Stevens—so different, and so relatable. Queue 2016 Gambino. When Glover decided to reinvent his musical persona and punch us all in the gut when he decided to channel his inner 70's and give us the record nobody ever saw being made. The rapper we knew is gone. No more Adele samples. Instead, we bring in R&B, psych rock, soul, and funk. With the lead singles Me and Your Mama and Redbone, a new era was upon us. Name drops of Prince, of D'Angelo, of Sly and the Family Stone, of George Clinton! Glover reinvented himself in a way that shocked the music world. Redbone was arguably the best song of the year. The retro fusion created, with the absence of rap altogether, is a treat. Hearing Glover sing, actually sing (and with no vocal manipulation), makes this album what it is. Yes, this is a different Childish Gambino. Yes, I miss the old. But, I'm not the slightest bit worried with where he is going. Glover was finally cast in a Spiderman. He created, directed, stared in his own new Golden Globe winning show. He was cast in a new Star Wars film. Then he wrapped the year by releasing one of the most groundbreaking records in the last few years. Needless to say, Donald Glover and Childish Gambino handedly won 2016.

Favorite Tracks: Redbone, Me and Your Mama, Have Some Love, Boogieman

1. David Bowie — Black Star Look up here, I'm in heaven / I've got scars that can't be seen...

A true gift to the world, from the legend that is David Bowie, on his 69th birthday. A heartbreaking and beautiful farewell to his fans, just two days before his passing. Bowie's swan song, his departing gift. He had recorded the entire album over the previous year in complete secrecy. Upon its release, the world was shocked. Applauded as one of his best works—becoming his first, and only, number one record in the States.

Touching on genres from industrial rock, hip-hop, jazz, and art rock, influencers ranged from Kendrick Lamar to Boards of Canada. This is not a pop album. But, this is a Bowie album through and through. He experiments, he hides messages, he reaches out to touch those lost and confused.

Bowie was a star, a Spaceman, an anomaly. He gifted us with music that will last forever. This collection of songs is breathtaking. It's hauntingly beautiful, and uplifting. He will forever be missed, and forever be loved. Leaving us with some of his best work was a move that only he could make.

Sean O'Neal, of the A.V. Club, perfectly stated, "a sonically adventurous album that proves Bowie was always one step ahead — where he'll now remain in perpetuity."

Thank you for everything. Rest in peace, Mr. Stardust...

Favorite Tracks: This album is seven songs long. Listen to it all. Bowie deserves that.

---

What a year of music. Truthfully, I wish I had spent more time with it. There weren't as many big albums as years past. But, so many more gems. There were albums from favorite artists of mine that I basically completely overlooked (Sorry Jimmy Eat World, Thrice, Regina Spektor!!!). I'm surprised as many of you with some of spots on my list. But, these were all amazing albums. Very excited to see what these artists have in store for the future.

Looking past these, and into 2017, I want to list my five most anticipated albums to come. Some we may not get (I see you Brand New), but hopefully these are all in the coming months.

Japandroids

LCD Soundsystem

Gorillaz

Fleet Foxes

Spoon

Then, just because I'm not adding any honorable mentions to my best of list this year, I'm adding five more to my most anticipated. HEY, it's my list, I can do what I want!

TV on the Radio

Chromatics

Grizzly Bear

The xx

Arcade Fire

Okayyyy... That's it! That's my wrap up. 2016 is done and gone. And I'm already diving into 2017. I'm excited to see what music is to come. I'm excited to expand my ever growing vinyl collection. I'm excited to see better and better concerts. And, I'm excited to experience those incredible musical moments with the my favorite friends and loved ones. Follow me on Discogs, Spotify, or Last.fm. Happy New Year everyone.

[fleurdelissaswords-blog]

Tupeck the Rapping Parrot’s ThugLife Bible Study #6: IT’S EASTER Y'ALL!!!“ (The Easter Story, Attempt #5) More in our Conversations with Talking Parrots Series.

We’re watching The Jesus Strand: A Search for DNA this Easter Sunday on the History Channel. We look forward to all of the awesome religious shows and docs on Easter weekend each year. Studying history and theology and science is a passion of mine I share with my feathered and furry family members as well… and it always makes for some funny content as I attempt to get my ThugBirdie Tupeck to get some religion. The talks after leave everyone hysterical.

This show aims at finding the true DNA of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and that of his family to help science and religion come together to finally bury the friggin hatchet. Can’t we all just get along? I happen to be a fan of both. It is my feeling that if God created the universe and all of this, and us, the more we understand it, the more we understand how perfect God’s plan really was. We are just observing the principals of this perfect world and explaining it in scientific terms that humans understand better.

Many of our readers and fans know that living with a parrot who wants to be the world’s first rapping parrot, and being talked into managing his career by the bird himself, is a challenge. Birds are typically NOT an easy type of pet! There exotic animals with exotic diets. Food items are often the stuffs of our conversations with the birds to help them learn to identify and request different food types. In fact Tupeck’s first original song was about how he had blueberries and Greek yogurt for breakfast. Lol. So we included the original artwork for the show, as well as a cute drawing of foods from Jesus’ time we found online here: http://gssroom9.blogspot.com/2014/03/re-jesus-strand.html… we get really into these birdie Bible lessons, but our birds are super smart! So join us on this Easter Birdie Bible Lesson! They’ve already requested the next Bible lesson being about the Last Supper. Lol. 😂🙈

I’m the mom and the manager of a parrot who wants to rap. Lol. And for years Tupeck parrot begged and I kindly said "hells nah! Not happening… you’re a bird!” But years later I realized he was really talented and loved music and hip hop, and that it was therapeutic for him in a way… and I’ve also just given up trying to get the ThugLife out of him. It’s just who he is. And in this family we accept each other for who they are. But my influence over the years has helped make his musical tastes a lot more diverse and he’s calmed down a lot. Yay patience! Lol. And Praise the Lord! 😜✊🏽🙏🏽 #LoveWins

Many of you also know that every Easter we have this weird family tradition of trying to give Tupeck a bible lesson and see if he will finally accept Jesus. In previous years he decided that since “Tupac was coming back too” and cuz he can rap on top of that, that Tupac held the top position in Tupeck’s heart when it comes to any religion. Lol. It was his very first Easter Sunday lesson after we got him that he said that. That’s how smart he is. He had already drawn a comparison between what Jesus did and Tupac’s life. Meaning he understood abstract human concepts more than the average bird! His vocabulary is also quite large… a lot of it we cannot repeat here and he knows he is not allowed to say and we don’t encourage it. But that’s how hard birds are. Imagine trying to have a family dinner while a bird raps and discusses his biz plan for becoming the next rap superstar?… and your mother is there. Get the idea?!

So for our yearly Easter Birdie Bible Study Lesson, I decide to taker a more scientific genetic route to explaining this to Tupeck. Maybe that would help? One can hope… so this ThugLife Bible Study Lesson is for Easter 2017! And our new attempt at getting Tupeck born again. We often use analogies that may not make sense to the common Christian, to explain things in terms a thug celebirdie can comprehend. It may be unorthodox, but we hope it’s slowly working. He didn’t like the audio bible we tried a while back. So yay for being innovative to get thru to inner city birds. Lol. We hope it doesn’t offend anyone… cuz tbh that’s Tupeck’s job as much as we try to keep him from doing so. He is bound to offend someone’s sensibilities… we were fans of anything ThugLife before this bird came into our lives either. Everything I know about hip hop I’ve learned from my parrot. Lol.

Let our ThugLife Bible Study Lesson begin…

Me: “Do you know why this religious documentary show is groundbreaking?”

Tupeck: “Absolutely!” 😚 (but I can tell he has no clue)

Me: “I’ll give u a hint: it’s possibly groundbreaking for television, history, and religious studies!” E Tupeck: “And Tupac!” 😜✊🏽

We all laugh. 🙈

Me: ok kiddo, and Tupac… of course. Now, on this show, they’re trying to find Jesus’ family of priest kings from the Davidic line using any dna they can track down to test.“

Tupeck: weird confused look. 😳

Me: "yeah part of the big deal about Jesus was he was from the line of David, therefore a priest king… this was back when they preached while they also kinged and stuff!” (The Messiah concept)

Tupeck: “YEAH?!” (Now he gets it! We’re taking about a VERY important person! We now have his attention… he is really only interested in celebrities.)

Me: “Yes… it was a different time.”

Tupeck: “Tupac was a priest king… and a talker!”

Me: 😂😂😂🙈"Yes Tupac was a good talker. Preachers were very good at talking! It’s what they did.“

Me: "If Jesus was alive today, what do you think he would say?”

Tupeck: “he’d be talking!” 🤗(thank you Captain Obvious! Lol)

Me: “yes cuz preaching is very similar to talking, except, they talk about God… and paying more attention to your bible studies!”

Tupeck: *beatboxes* cuz all Bible studies require beatboxing. And all good talkers in his opinion, should know how to beatbox. 🙈 Crap, is this lesson going downhill already? Ok time for a new strategy!

Me: “well if you were to make a song for Jesus, what would it be? Let’s make a song for Jesus… cuz that’s totally a thang.”

Tupeck: *thinks for a min, then lays down a few beats for mood* “Ooooh, baby I looove yoooou!!!” 😚

Me: 😂👍🏽 “I consider this a success, even though it’s basically your epic love ballad you intend to record on your first demo…”

We all sing a few more repeats of this one line… cuz the song so far only has or needs this one important line. Tupeck is proud. I’m just proud he finally made a Christian-ish song of some sort after 6 years of trying to get some religion into him.

Me: “have I told you about the story of the loaves and fishes?… you like bread!”

Tupeck: listens intently… cuz indeed he does love bread. Lol “Yeah yeah!” (Said in a Beavis and Butthead voice)

Me: “now back in Jesus time, there were crowds at his shows too… they called them ‘the multitudes!’”

Tupeck: “ok.” 😯

Me: “I know you think only rap stars have crowds, but Jesus drew big crowds too! Once thousands had come to hear him talk, like people went to hear Tupac talk, and at the end they realized the multitudes were hungry, but they didn’t have enough food to feed everyone who’d traveled a long way to hear Jesus talk.”

Tupeck: 😱 (this is indeed a problem)

Me: “here, watch this scene from YouTube about this… Jesus did something really cool to make sure everyone had food!”

Link: https://youtu.be/GolUi2yu7nA (I show Tupeck this clip cuz if it’s on YouTube, in his head, it’s true! He’s the biggest YouTube addict. Lol. We had to set some limits and Parrontal Controls cuz it became a problem.)

Me: “that day Jesus did something REALLY COOL. Cuz he believed in taking care of his peeps. He only had a couple loaves of bread and few fishies. But Jesus was the Fisher King, so he gave thanks to God and blessed the fishies and 💥 BAM! 💥 Food for everyone appeared and everyone was happy!”

Tupeck: “woah!”

Me to myself: “this is actually finally working… he seems interested in learning about Jesus! HUZZAH!!! It’s a miracle!!!” *gives thanks to God* 🙏🏽

Me: “remember when Pac hosted all of those picnics in the park for the gang kids in California, and brought in Snoop Dog and other artists, and told the kids they’d keep hosting those events as long as people all got along… and the ThugLife code was born from those events trying to bring inner city kids together without hurting each other.”

Tupeck: 😱 *Gasp!* (he has found another thing in common between Jesus and Tupac… which of course was my brilliant idea! *high fives self!*

Me: “kinda is a lot like how Jesus talked to the crowds and fed them afterward cuz he cared about his people and mankind. Tupac did too!”

Tupeck: *beatboxes more excited about this idea*

Me: “what if Tupac could have been one of these living decendants of Jesus like this show is trying to solve? They seem to have a lot in common. Tupac did a lot of the same stuff Jesus did to try to teach and help people. It was just a different time and different problems in the world. Cuz they both wanted to help the world.”

Lil Homie, Tupeck’s number one crew member and fellow flock member who isn’t famous and doesn’t wanna be, has been listening intently and chimes in here to tell us he likes this idea of people (and creatures) taking care of each other. Awe. 🤗 He may have some big questions about how Tupeck has been running his crew of homies (aka: flock) after this lesson. Lol. 🙈

Me: “on this show, they’re trying to track down blood and bones that may have belonged to Jesus to do sciencing tests to see who the rest of his family is and find out more about Jesus… pretty cool huh! Cuz there’s a lot we don’t know about this guy yet he is the biggest most important historical figure of all time according to many humans. He was either the Messiah, or a gifted Prophet, or a loving teacher of men.”

Me: “Tupeck?… 😳… Tupeck?!… hey, why are u preening during our Easter Sunday bible lesson? It’s time to listen and learn.”

Tupeck: “meh” 😒

Me: “welp, I had him for a moment!… it’s better than Easter sermons of years past… YAY PROGRESS!!!… and for once no talk of Llamas in God’s plan!” 😜✊🏽 (cuz we all know Llamas were either a glitch in evolution or God’s biggest mistake, depending on which you subscribe to. Llamas are an obsolete model. But this is the source of ongoing arguments between myself and a Tupeck parrot. *See our series on this blog: “The Ongoing Llama Feud between FleurDeLissa and Tupeck Parrot.”)

And Look for Tupeck the Rapping Parrot’s Gospel-Inspired song soon on a digital media site near you! 🎼🎤🎧 (Yeah, Tupeck made me say that plug.)

Overall we liked the show. I really enjoyed learning about the reliquaries they were using and their history. They discussed the link between John the Baptist as a cousin of Jesus too, which I really loved and have always thought myself. Just ask Da Vinci! He knew.

They showed a lot of historical sites from the Bible stories too, like the place where Jesus fed the multitudes as told in this story, and where he walked on water… tbh i woulda done the SAME thing the guy did on the show upon seeing it! I’d love to go to those holy sites someday myself.

So be sure to check it out on History Channel Easter Sunday (& in sure they’ll rerun it and have dvd’s of the show to add to my growing collection of religious historical documentaries!)

It was really good and I like how they traveled to different locations of where real reliquaries have been kept to show more context for the story that is sure to continue to evolve, as scientists and universities do more DNA tests on remains of people from biblical times found. I like how they retold some of the stories and how excited one of the guys was to be seeing these historic places. At times his buddy was just like 😳?? And he was all 😱😜✊🏽!!! Lol. although tbh my personal feeling was that Jesus walked on water cuz he was smart and new sharks and beasties live in the oceans. So when Tupeck asked about that, I calmly referred to the atrocious campy horror about bullsharks killing peeps at the beach playing on Scy-Fy at the same time. It seemed to work for now, but maybe our next ThugLife Bible Study will be about that biblical story.

Submit your ideas of which bible stories we should teach Tupeck the Rapping Parrot next, below in the comments or on my Twitter! And be sure to check out my archives for the rest in the Tupeck's ThugLife Bible Study series to find out what Tupeck the Rapping Parrot thinks about Judas, and other notable biblical figures! I promise they're all funny and will make you laugh. And check out my other TV show and movie reviews and recaps! Don't forget to follow me here as well to stay updated on what Tupeck parrot is doing next... and yes the Latin-inspired collaboration album for charity with the llama factions is still in the works! Whodathunk this bird could actually find a famous llama on twitter to connect with... then he drafted the ThugAnimal code when he heard there was a war going on between the Llama and Troll factions... whom he also found on twitter... cuz Twitter. 🙈 And Tupeck sends all of his loyal fans a big huge air kisses and a "Keep Your Beak Up!"... cuz #ThatsMyBoy. Lol.

For more info on this documentary, click here: http://www.history.com/specials/the-jesus-strand-a-search-for-dna

© 2017, Fleurdelissaswords, Tupeck the Rapping Parrot (yeah he demanded rights to all content about him in our “contract negotiations.” 😂🙈 Lol) Sharing is Caring so pass this blog on! Share it with your animal loving and Jesus loving friends!… and yeah even those annoying ThugLife friends. Lol. 😉😘❤

-Keep Your Beak Up!- is copyrighted and trademarked… cuz “dang contract negotiations with parrots!” 😱

@historychannelvikings @historychannel @tupac-2pac @tupactheoutlaw @makaveliminded @makavellian @makavellidon-blog @thuglife @thuglifepanda @thuglife1990s-blog @2pacdaughter @2pacsoul @2pac-makaveli-shakur @2pacabra @hiphopclassicks @hiphopcassette @hiphopfightsback @hiphop-in-the-brain @parrots4cake @parrotsland @parrotsbeak @parrotsdoinghumanjobs @parrotswithbenefits @birdsonly @birdschoolforbirds @birdstump @animalstalkinginallcaps @animalswithstuffedanimals @animalsthatdopeoplethings @puglifestyles @puglifedallas @catsofinstagram @grumpycat @grumpycatfan @celebritycloseup @celebritypets @celebritypetsargentina @famousdogs-blog @jiffpom @jiffpom24-blog @boothedog @dogshamingusa-blog @dogshaming @catshaming @cattechnology @kittenskittenskittens @kleeklutch @mimithebabyfox @charlesgame @macawclothing @macawsrule-blog @conuresagainsthomework @conures-life

[pauldeckerus]

Early Photos vs. Now: Seeing Progress as a Photographer

Whelp! The Internet reminded me a few days back that I’ve officially been shooting photography for over 10 years now. I’ll be honest, I thought my progress would have been further. I assume the end of my life will be something like what I am currently experiencing, which is “Wow, that went fast.” It seems I’m just barely starting to grasp the wise words of my elders when they told me “Time goes quicker than you think.”

Recent artwork from my 2018 RGG EDU tutorial. Both tutorials I’ve released with them are some of my favorite accomplishments.

In the spirit of anniversaries, let’s see just how f**king horrifying Year 1 and 2 really were… *Takes a deep breath* To the archives!

What’s this ‘flower’ setting on my point and shoot?? Oh s**t! You can take pictures of things close up! Woo!”*misses putting subject in focus

“Yes yes, let’s do a fake blood-filled cup and some s**tty pearls cause Anne Rice got me hooked on f**ken vampires in the 90’s!” Shot again with a point and shoot, with some lamps for lighting and some brutal Photoshop work to make up for the lack of lighting knowledge. Also had clearly not heard the term “Color Temperature” yet.

“Flash can be turned on manually on my Nikon Coolpix, and if I put it in front with the sun behind, it does THIS?? Well this is my new favourite thing ever!” Then I remembered that mosquitoes suck and promptly scampered into the studio for mostly ever more.

Photographed in my fridge, cause I learned that big soft light is sexy, and lamps just weren’t doing the trick.

Blown highlights and crushed shadows and no concept of color harmony?? You mean sky glitter and trendy as f**k presets…

When I first picked up a camera it was mostly to be creative in a way that didn’t involve modeling, and it was faster than drawing. I photographed macro, still life, bikes, and over the course of a year, a number of friends and slave labored my sister a bunch. The first few years were the most exciting cause the gains were exponential, obvious, and relatively easy to attain.

Admittedly, Year 1 was probably my most fun year in photography. Not that the subsequent haven’t delivered amazing memories and new friends, but I was in it purely for the fun and had no expectations from anyone but me. I didn’t have goals, a client wish list, no questions of what gear would make my work better, or any desire beyond the next batch of point-and-shoot pixels that would get my dopamine levels hopping off the charts.

Early years are dedicated to trying a lot of things, as many different facets as possible. I don’t think anyone should be really trying to “figure out their style” because if we do enough work and spend the hours just being immersed in it, style will inevitably start to form. Sometimes it looks like what’s already being made, and sometimes it turns into a creature that nobody has ever seen before. Regardless of what it is, you have to have your ass in the seat as often as you can or want, to find that voice.

10 years in, it feels like the gains I make now are at the sacrifice of dragging myself over broken glass while an elephant steps on my back. I’m not here because I retained that energy of “This is the best thing evaaarrrr!” from the early days, but because discipline and stubbornness have forced me to continue. When I’m bashing at the walls of my inability to complete a concept that’s been in my mind for 5 years, and I’m still probably another 2-3 years away from being competent enough to finalize the piece, I know I’m in it for the long game.

Time has taught me the harder things feel in the moment, the more frustrated and pressurized my brain feels over the work, I’m probably just getting closer to my next sliver of a creative breakthrough. I’ll trade one elephant for another bigger, slightly heavier elephant. While they trade places though, in those brief moments I’ll find I can breathe again.

A recent challenge to create an image using only one area of the color wheel. Many thanks to Linda Friesen for channelling her inner Moon Goddess.

Those Moments Are What I Live For

I write this all to serve as a reminder, to those in their first year, or to the grizzled veterans staring down a resume longer than a CVS receipt. Where we started and where we are now is worth celebrating. Most of us weren’t born with a natural “talent” — in fact, many would argue that is a myth. We are simply a result of repetition and practice.

I think a lot of people get intimidated in their early years that their work will never look as good as they want it to. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can definitely say that 10 years in, I’m still another 10 years away from doing the kind of work I want to make. I hope it never changes.

My inbox is filled with emails asking the same question written hundreds of different ways, but the theme can be boiled down to “How do I get awesome at this??”

Answer? I could write an essay but here are some easy points:

Just keep at it. Put your ass into frequent, habitual practice.

Most who are any good, sit upon a throne of really, really terrible work, and years of it. Every time you complete a work of art that you think is pretty f**king awful, congratulate yourself. It’s one more foundation stone into your cathedral of mastery.

Do not look for shortcuts. You’re only stealing from your future-self.

There is no “one path to success”. There are thousands of ways, and what works for one may not work for another.

Know thyself. Inspiration is great, but nothing beats digging into the nuts and bolts of your honest creative self.

Self portrait, trying to grind down on better color theory. I probably need to watch Kate Woodman’s RGG tutorial…

Maybe you are the creator who does a little bit of everything from now until forever. Maybe you’re the type who started one style and never ever changes. There is no right or wrong answer. Far as I know, they don’t hand out medals in the afterlife… yet.

“They” say if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life. I’ve met some of those humans, and they’re most often either f**king unicorns, or completely disillusioned. Love what you do, or don’t, regardless your ass is probably gunna work pretty damn hard.

I fall in and out of love with my chosen career and lifestyle on a weekly basis. I equate my career to being in a long-term, committed relationship. Some days we wake up and look at each other in bed and wonder why the other is still there. Others we are reminded what got us there in the first place. Regardless of my feelings, I think they’re mostly irrelevant.

Accurate depiction of real life misery. Brought on by walking barefoot into a glacier fed, cold ass lake, or occasionally just trying to will myself into turning on my computer… Side note – Check out those “I clearly only ever wear boots” pasty ankles!

10 years in, I feel like I’m just cracking the surface of “me” and what that means to be a creator. Seated upon a mountain of embarrassing pixels and memories, I’m staring at the bottom of an even larger heap that I will create over the next decade. My well-made list of goals and plans will probably get muddled and misplaced by the chaotic influence that is life, but another 10 years will pass regardless.

I just hope that my small, infinitesimal contribution of creativity will maybe start to balance out the number of straws I’ve used.

Commissioned work for guitar queen Nita Strauss.

Inspiration time! I managed to convince some mind-bogglingly awesome artists from a variety of genres to also dig into their archives, and bravely share some of their own humble beginnings. This was a very cathartic experience for me. It was so just absolutely f**king perfect seeing where they all started to their current favorite work. Remember, we all start somewhere, and with a few years of dedication, we never know where we will wind up.

Dave Brosha

2003. “Pure garbage. Both emotionally and metaphysically.”

2018. “The only thing between where you are and where you want to be is the passion to learn and putting the time in. Some of my earliest images are laughably make-your-eyes-bleed bad – but I never beat myself up for them. They are what they are…and that’s to say, they’re part of the process of learning and growth.”

Visit his website here.

Curtis Jones

2012. “Cape Spear, Newfoundland. Completely disregarding geography, composition, and proper use of a tripod, I felt this was a pretty solid shot of my friends under the northern lights. To be honest, I’m not 100% certain a tripod was even involved but I was out there making an effort and that’s what sticks with me. Turns out the most easterly point in Canada isn’t a hotspot for aurora activity.”

2018. “Khongoryn Els, Mongolia. Now, with a few more miles racked up, an appreciation for location scouting and a better grasp on my gear, putting in the effort still counts but the returns have become more consistent – less random and more intentional.”

Visit his website here.

Felix Inden

2008. “I was really stoked about this one. Enough to save it as my first .psd (of course after reducing to 72 DPI)”

2018. “I was incredibly lucky that I got this shot… it was not thought or anything. I just saw it coming, fired away and luckily had the right settings from shooting out of the heli before of this moment. Don´t plan to much. embrace spontaneity. be there and be ready.”

Visit his website here.

Michael Shainblum

2007.

2018.

Visit his website here.

Tim Kemple

2004. “From my first commercial shoot. It was on Mt Washington for Eastern Mountain Sports and we had this awesome but wacky creative director that wanted a shot of the less glamorous moments that happen when you are out hiking. Shot on slide film. Provia 400F pushed a stop.”

2015. “Two climbers on Mt Huntington in Alaska. Shot with Phase One medium format from a helicopter.”

Visit his website here.

Elizabeth Gadd

2008. “10 years ago I discovered my passion for taking moody self portraits (because sitting on the ground and staring into space with a blurry focus seemed cool). Can’t believe how proud I was of this one once.”

2018. “10 years later, still taking moody self portraits. Hoping the practice has paid off!”

Visit her website here.

Bella Kotak

2008. “This was when I first discovered Photoshop! It took me a few more years to figure the program. At that time it wasn’t really about improving my “photography” but more about how I could improve on what I wanted to express. It just so happened that the camera felt like most natural medium to do that through.”

2018, The Kiss. “It’s amazing what time, practice, and knowledge can do. When it comes to creating pictures I’ve never focused on what I can’t do but rather, what I can do. The goal is, and has always been, to shoot often, keep learning, constantly experimenting, never hold back, and always try to level up.”

Visit her website here.

Kate Woodman

2014. This image represents my first real foray into using Photoshop in a creative/artistic way vs. a more conventional dodge-and-burn-cleanup kind of way. The image was accidental–one of my strobes didn’t fire, and I was left with something I wasn’t anticipating but though could lead to something interesting. It was the first time I really embraced a mistake as a learning opportunity–and I’ve made many more and learned so much from them, from both a technical but also a conceptual perspective.”

2018. “I feel like I’m finally getting to the stage where my photography not only reflects my aesthetic preferences but also my conceptual interests. This is a more recent image which I think is pretty successful in portraying a narrative that is both visually and viscerally impactful. There’s definitely something going on but it leaves room for interpretation–that ambiguity is something I’ve always liked in others’ art and strive for in my own.”

Visit her website here.

Richard Terborg

2009. ” I like the snow, and I like photography. So I figured it would be funny to combine the two in a “creatively next level” way, by wearing my normal “day” clothes instead of winter clothing. Because I didn’t want my garden in the background this frame was the only one that worked.”

2018. “I’ve been on a Wes Anderson exploration/funk/inspired by/phase/binge??? So I asked my friend to bring anything yellow he has and a puffy hat. It was around 35 degrees celcius outside and he had to put on the only yellow woolly shirt he had and a warm cap. Love places with a lot of color and lines because of ‘Wes’ and this place just clicked perfectly.”

Visit his website here.

Julia Kuzmenko

2007. “I honestly had no clue what I was doing. I know now, that the best thing to learn something in a specific photography genre is to break apart and analyze every aspect of the images of a handful of successful artists whose work resonates with me the most. The cropping, the colors, the makeup, hair and facial expressions.. everything that we photographers have control of at the time of the capture.”

2018. “Shoot, shoot, shoot more! Practice like a maniac, so you are at the right skill level when the opportunity comes along.”

Visit her website here.

Tina Eisen

2009. “February. I had one light and a friend called Hannah. We knew nothing. Even less than Jon Snow. Not even the cat bowl was safe.”

2018. “September. I know a couple more things now! I still experiment to this day and wake up happy every morning that I took this step 10 years ago!”

Visit her website here.

Pratik Naik

2008. “I wanted to be a fashion photographer with my wonderful wide angle kit lens and sweet angles. I thought the more angles the better and so we angled all day.”

2018. “I realized what was actually kept me inspired was the complete opposite. It was energy, mood, and emotion. Through my attempt at fashion photography, I carved the path to what I really loved shooting.”

Visit his website here.

Benjamin Von Wong

2007. “Well, I found a second set of mirrors… on another escalator haha. Theres a nice big flash hiding my head but I thought it’d make a cool effect on the metal parts.”

2018. “Ironically, I believed myself to be a better photographer then, than I do now, even though my skill level is objectively higher. I wonder how I’ll feel about myself and my work in another 10 years!”

Visit his website here.

Ashley Joncas

2010. “I was always a disgruntled little $hit even when I started teaching myself photography. I was obsessed with antique portraiture but also obsessed with HotTopic…so the dynamic duo combined with me barely knowing how to turn on a camera ended up in a branch explosion from my friends head surrounded by fake smoke. Thankfully 8 years has made a big difference…and I’ve gone from doing a horrible job to actual horror photography.”

2018. “The work I do now is directly indicative of how my creative mind works and what it responds to. For a while I thought being a good photographer meant doing pretty images with flower crowns and safe color palettes, but I realized my voice was in the strange and irregular chasms of our reality. So, my favorite image from this year is a shot of someone sitting in a basement with a bloody eye and shackles.”

Visit her website here.

The Art of Mezame

2013. “I thought using a single LED light and a Samsung Galaxy S3 was good enough for toy photography. I remember the motivation for using the LED light was just so I could see something in the dark. I don’t remember editing the image though haha!”

2018. “I am now actively shooting portraits in studios and using more than just LED lights. Instead of lighting things up just so I can see something in the dark, I use lighting and lightshapers to craft images that tell stories. Only time will tell what else I could discover in my journey as a photographer. Still learning, never stopping.”

Visit his website here.

Joel Robison

2009. “Back in the early days I was still a bit nervous to really get outside and shoot, I was largely taking self-portraits inside my apartment and really only had one bare wall to play with. I was doing a 365 project and ideas were getting thin so I decided to do a week of making props out of cardboard…I whipped up a cardboard gun, money bag and mustache and spent a good solid 5 minutes shooting this image which I then ran through Picnic AND Photoshop to get the desired “vintage” effect.” We all started somewhere and I can’t believe I thought it all looked good!”

Visit his website here.

Webb Bland

2005. “Distortion? Check. Vignetting like I stacked too many polarizers? Check. A pass of every free plugin I could find? Check and mate, photographers! *Retouchers. Whatever.”

2019. “High noon in an airplane graveyard, spacing each car between stark wing shadows. The only thing missing is the abysmal HDR and VIGNETTING OH GOD HOW DID I FORGET THE VIGNETTING??! Shot for Audi.”

Visit his website here.

Alex Ruiz

1993. “Crappy figure drawing: This gem was from my submission portfolio to Cal Arts. Needless to say, I didn’t get in. In retrospect this was valuable lesson for me: get damn good at figure drawing or else I wasn’t going anywhere!”

2018. “Kat Livingston as Elven Queen. There’s something about creating portraits that I’ve always been drawn to more and more over the years. There’s a deep intimacy to it, having a character stare deeply back at you, and sometimes through you. This one is based off New York model, Kat Livingston. Giving her an ethereal, elven quality seemed fitting for her.”

Visit his website here.

John Gallagher

2013. “My Little Pony – A cautionary tale. I’m fond of migrating beloved and nostalgic animated content to ‘real world’ to test my own ability to stay true to the characters while transforming them for fun. This is a gorgeous cringe worthy example of what not to do. Cue sharp inhale.“

2018. “So Deadpool… This won 2nd place in the DeviantArt fan art poster contest with Fox. DA picked five fan-favorite artists to compete for prize money and a trip to New York to the premiere. There was a long list of no-fly zones for content and just a couple days to do it so we all hit the ground running. I thought it came together pretty well and dovetailed nicely with the slo-mo mayhem of the DP cineverse. It’s a natural fit for my brand of hyperkinetics.”

Visit his website here.

The best way to see our progress is to occasionally take an honest look back at our past. What kind of people we were, what we valued, and how we expressed it. While it sometimes feels weird or awkward to look back at our less than experienced selves, they are the treasures that helped us become who we are, and what we do now shapes our futures.

It’s also so easy to get caught up in comparing ourselves to others, the mysteries behind the scenes that helped evolve the final product they now share to the world.

This list is only a snapshot in each person’s life, a single Polaroid in an entire journal to be perceived as warnings or inspiration. Inevitably there will be someone commenting about “I like x image more!” or “I wish I was as good as their befores”. If those are your thoughts, I applaud your skill in missing the point.

Remember, we are only in ultimate competition with our younger and future selves. Our journeys are our own, appreciate the past and embrace the next 10 years.

About the author: Canadian born and raised, Renee Robyn is a former model turned photographer who has developed an ethereal style, combining fact and fiction. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. Merging together expertly shot photographs with hours of meticulous retouching in Photoshop, Robyn’s images are easily recognizable and distinctly her own. She travels full time, shooting for clients and teaching workshops around the world. You can find more of her work on her website, Facebook, and Twitter. This article was also published here.

from Photography News https://petapixel.com/2018/09/13/early-photos-vs-now-seeing-progress-as-a-photographer/

[carafox01-blog]

NCFE LEVEL2 PHOTOGRAPHY

VISIBLE INVISIBLE

FINAL IMAGES

RESEARCH – Assignment 2 & 3, Unit 2, Task 4 &5, 2.1,2.2, 2.3, 2.4

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

LOST Vs LOSS – taken on Samsung Galaxy S6

Crystal Ball f18 1/60s 45mm ISO1.6

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Visible Invisible f5.6 1/80s 45mm ISO250

Today, I am presenting my final assignment images for Dreams and Realities. I have said before that I didn’t expect this project to be quite so personal, and to mean so much to me, but here, in this project I’ve laid myself bare, and am presenting the way that I feel about Invisible Illness.

My research was a fairly organic process, starting with Fibromyalgia Awareness Day on May12th, I was aware that so many other charities have their National Awareness Days, yet although there is an awareness day for FM it went largely unnoticed. I found a small piece online about a publicity event in Morecambe, and took inspiration from it. Coupled with lots of research on artists and photographers who have their own unique voices and ways of portraying their pain. Using techniques I have learned in the last 3 terms,  I started to explore and experiment with various techniques. Some using simple methods, such as composition and some using Photo editing suites on both PC and my mobile phone.

Invisible illnesses are pertinent to me, and my own health, but I also want to be able to raise consciousness among others, with regard to these conditions. As I went along the path with this project it seemed to gain a life of it’s own, and I suddenly had so much to say.  I hope that with this project, I have used visual language and media such as photography to try and change our perception of these conditions. I found myself looking at the themes of becoming or being invisible, missing or hidden under the surface.

To some degree, people judge you by what they can see, but FM, CFS, M.E, and many others illnesses do not leave visible scars. Most of the scars and pain are hidden. We wear ‘masks’ to hide our pain, we pretend to be fine to the wider world, yet in reality we suffer pain and anxiety. I wanted to be able to explore these themes with my photography.  The wider world cannot see bones sticking out or blood, and we often find we are dismissed or disbelieved. The real truth is, we’re not okay. We are just coping as best we can. I think raising awareness is the first step to finding that help.

Feelings of anger, resentment, fear, anxiety, loss are all real aspects of having a long term condition.  I found inspiration in the work of Frida Kahlo, Maurizio Anzeri, Rene Magritte,  Vivienne Strauss and Marcelo Monreal. Each of these images, for me, conveys a sense of missing, of sadness, of pain..

Forgotten. Vivienne Strauss (image by permission of Vivienne Strauss)

The Only Way out is Through Vivienne Strauss (image by permission of Vivienne Strauss)

The Two Fridas 1939 http://www.frdakahlo.org

The Broken Column, 1944 Frida Kahlo http://www.fridakahlo.org

Francesca Woodman Self deceit

Image from Google

Image from Pinterest

Image taken at Photo Londonf7.1 1/200s 14mm ISO640

Maurizio Anzeri f5.4 1/160s 33mm ISO 1.2KB

Frida Kahlo – Image from Google

Rene Magritte – Image frtom Google

Marcelo Monreal – Image from Pinterest

  Finding these images took me along the path of finding what I wanted to say with my own images. On a personal level, the research has made me look into new forms of creativity, in terms of embroidery onto photographs. Something I will definitely carry on with after the course finishes.

THIS IS ME.

Exploratory images 2.1, 2.2

Here are the original, unedited images for my Dreams and Realities assignment:

Flower girl – f3.5 1/160s 9.73mm ISO100

Crystal Ball – f18 1/60s 45mm ISO1.6LYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Crystal Ball – f18 1/60s 45mm ISO1.6

Taken on Samsung Galaxy S6

– Image by John

Invisible -f5.6 1/80s 35mm ISO250

Invisible – f5.6 1/80s 45mm ISO250

Frida? – f5.4 1/30s 31mm ISO800

MISSING. f5.3 1/80s ISO1.2KB 30mmOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

MISSING f5.3 1/80s ISO1.2KB 30mm

  VISIBLE INVISIBLE

Final images. 2.3, 2.4

Channeling Frida. After showing my images in class, there was mostly positive criticism from my classmates and tutor, but as ever, I am my harshest critic. I posted my image of “Frida” on my blog and despite positive feedback, I was unhappy about the hair on my fringe. I tried to remove it using the rubber stamp tool in GIMP editing, but there was too much hair for me to do it successfully, and it would have ruined the image. So I settled for making the clump of mascara and the hair across  my eye, disappear.  If I were to print this image, I would be inclined to use a rag paper like Hahnemuhle, German etching because there’s a lovely soft surface texture to it. I’d probably keep the print fairly small, maybe 8″x6″ because it’s quite an intimate picture which invites the viewer in.

Missing. In class, there was also some criticism about the quality of the light, but that was rather unavoidable in the confines of my tiny, dark hallway that has no natural light.  My tutor, felt this image may have had more impact if the secondary image of me walking upstairs was somehow ‘separated’ from the primary image of my shoes on the stairs.  Personally, I am not sure about this, because my intention when I took the photo was that I portrayed myself walking away from the grey-ness of pain… missing out on dancing, fun, and a fulfilling life. The shadow of the person invisible illness has made me become.  I am walking up the stairs to a brighter future, a stronger self.  I’m happy with the choice of use of colour and black and white in the image. It represents that feeling of being somehow ‘missing’ in life, the juxtaposition of sadness and loss, with the colour overlay of my walking upstairs to strength, conquering that loss.

Lost vs loss.  The  image below is my favourite 🙂  It’s an image of myself with my hand over my mouth, a silly selfie, but I think it works the best of all my Dreams and Realities images. The hand over my mouth represents all the things I’d like to say, but don’t. Perhaps I’m stifling the sarky comments when people say “Oh, but you I look really well…”  or ” …Have you tried Vitamins/Turmeric/Cabbage soup/Unicorn horn” (…or some other snake oil 😉 Despite not being taken with my camera, the image works.  After drawing lines over and over on the image using the (snapseed) editing tools  on my phone, I changed the colour, and contrast to make a strong, bold image that is abstract and striking.  I would like to print this image using Fujitrans Crystal Archive C-Type paper, which is a translucent display material perfect for setting into a light box.  I’ve had a lot of feedback on this image, from fellow students, friends and family. The best comment was from one of my previous tutors, who said that he hoped I would blow it up really large and hang it on the wall. 🙂 If I had a large enough space, I would print it at maybe 40″x30″, but since we live in a normal house, I think we are actually intend to print it a smaller and set it into a light box to show it at it’s best. (Tripod carrier is an engineer, and is very clever at making things! Yay! :))

LOST Vs LOSS – taken on Samsung Galaxy S6

There But Not There. Next we come to the crystal ball image, which was really a bit of an in-joke. Like a magic trick, I’m there but not there….. I took the photo outside using natural light. I took two shots of the crystal ball, one with myself in the background and the other without. Using GIMP, I cut out the image of my upside-down reflection in the crystal ball and laid it over the the top of the image without me in it.  I’m not very likely to print this image, but if I did, I think would use a glossy paper to compliment the shininess of the ball, and I would print the image quite small, deliberately, so that the viewer would have to peer into the crystal ball to see the image.

  Crystal Ball f18 1/60s 45mm ISO1.6

My next submission is Visible Invisible, the title of my project on Dreams and Realities. Among the letters is hidden the word invisible, but it’s not immediately apparent, you have to look closer for it.  I often use cut out letters in my journalling, and when scrapbooking one day, I thought it could make an effective image.  I took the image using a shallow depth of field to keep the letters nice and crisp. The photo was taken using natural light, indoors.  Using GIMP editing suite, I layered the background of letters with another shot of myself, that John took in class a while ago.  I removed the contrast and colour by making the image transparent and overlaid it on top of the letters.  If I were to print it, I would use a giclee print on a matte surface because I think it would suit the cut out letters and the more ethereal quality of the image of me. I think a small size print would work best for this image, again because you have to draw the viewer in to look closely.

Visible Invisible f5.6 1/80s 45mm ISO250

Flower girl.  I love this image. Partly because I adore flowers, plants and gardening. Hidden inside me there is a beautiful garden. I retreat there when I need to. In a course that I am currently doing on living with long-term conditions, we meditate and use mindfulness techniques. I ‘sit’ in an inner garden and find calm and tranquility. There’s no judgement, or stuff I have to do or be, no critical internal monologue.

There’s also an element of the mask we wear connected to this image. There is an inner growth and change, a flowering. I feel vibrant, bold and hopeful.  Completely inspired by the work of Marcelo Monreal, I used GIMP to ‘cut’ out sections of my face and then cut and pasted sections of a photo I took earlier of a beautiful clematis, in my garden.  Time constraints and family commitments meant that I haven’t been able to go quite as flower-y as I’d like, but I think overall,  I am happy with this image.  I would definitely want to use a photo rag paper to print this image, because of it’s velvet-y texture, which would add softness to the flowers and a 3D-ness giving the image a pictorial depth.

This course, along with my photography is helping me to blossom and develop. There is a better, brighter future.

That’s my lot for now. I’ve now reached the end of my course. Time for me to stretch my wings and fly… Time to get out and about in this gorgeous weather and put into practice all that I have learned.  I do want to carry on my blog, if real life doesn’t get in the way, so I hope you’ll be hearing more from me.

Thank you, readers, for all the encouragement, support, and lovely comments. X

TTFN.

          DREAMS AND REALITIES NCFE LEVEL2 PHOTOGRAPHY VISIBLE INVISIBLE

[dracox-serdriel]

Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 27: For the Footfall of Artemis

Lament of the Asphodels

Title: The Thread of Moirai Author: Dracox Serdriel Artist: @liamjcnes Artwork: Post 1 | Post 2 Word count: 2,100 Rating: NC-17/Explicit (except on FF) Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, Graphic sexual content, Declaration/threats of sexual violence, Minor character death, Social stigmatization/abuse, Detailed descriptions of hopelessness/depression/inner turmoil, Descriptions of the effects of extreme phobias/social anxiety, including anthropophobia, thalassophobia/hydrophobia, and hylophobia/dendrophobia, Descriptions of shipwrecks and storms at sea

Read Lament of the Asphodels on FF, AO3, LJ, or start at the beginning on Tumblr. Written as part of @captainswanbigbang.

Chapter 27: For the Footfall of Artemis

Killian woke to a burning in his eye. Rushed to ease the startling discomfort, he inelegantly dragged his hand across his face, where he gathered several strands of golden hair that had flown into his brow at the will of the rolling dawn breeze. The stinging subsided in ebbs and eddies, and he relaxed in equal measures, slipping back into the sweet surrender of sleep with only the faintest flourishes of wakefulness holding him on the edge of consciousness, where he delighted in the blissful limbo between the fantasy of his dreams and the comfort of blanketed warmth.

The wind lashed out abruptly, cutting through the protection of the quilt and jarring him awake with its icy tendrils. He instinctively tensed to conserve heat, and in so doing, he brought Emma tight to his chest. She barely stirred at the onslaught of frozen air, though she mumbled a string of nonsense as she buried her head in his chest.

"Morning, love," he whispered in her ear.

She had yet to awaken fully, for her wont was to rise late, even more so on days like this, when she felt she could lounge in bed till sundown. She curled against the firm body wrapped around hers, and a playful smile came to her lips as she recalled events from the night previous, which flooded her with such euphoric energy that her eyes snapped open. Had she still been in some stupor of sleep, the blaze of the sun overhead would've shaken her from it.

"Morning," she grumbled in reply.

"Spot of breakfast?"

"Do I have to move?"

"Aye, and it's best if we do so now," he said gently. "We're out in the open. Only a matter of time before someone happens upon us."

They dressed haphazardly and half-covered with the quilt before consuming a cold and paltry breakfast. They likewise packed hastily and perhaps somewhat unwisely, for they were determined to clear any sign of their camp thoroughly, lest they be tracked by some manner of enemy or random miscreant with the will to do them harm. Killian obscured any remaining vestiges as Emma double-checked the concealment of the rowboat. Unfortunately, their speed did precious little to counter their late-morning lingering, for they had slept hours beyond the dawn. By the time Killian discovered their bearings and Emma, the trail head, midday was upon them.

It was fortunate Killian knew something of the landscape, for there were many miles between the shore and the plains and more yet to the edge of the forest. They spent most of the day under the blaring heat of the sun with scarcely a shadow for comfort. Neither desired any additional delay, but they stopped outside the tree line to consume a very late and equally light lunch, which was hindered by the effects of their hurried morning packing.

Naturally, Emma felt that they deserved the reprieve of the late afternoon clouds, which afforded them a spot of shade as their meal came to a close, but Killian reacted as if a looming danger had announced itself. Without an iota of explanation, he scrambled to their packs and dug out an assortment of oddities, upsetting their already messy packs.

"Emma, we need to act quickly," he said, as if only noticing now that she had not joined him in his frenzy. "It may be upon us in minutes."

She had been too busy enjoying the dimming light to realize what such a thing forecasted, for it was far too early for dusk. The overcast was the herald of a storm front.

She immediately came to Killian's aid, and together they sorted the packs and donned their raingear with impressive speed. They even had a few minutes walking before the wind picked up and the sky opened, pelting them with heavy droplets of rain.

It didn't take long for the precipitation to rise into a full-fledged rainstorm, which was mercifully free of thunder and lightning. The discomfort of their trek increased tenfold, however, for the din of the tempest drowned out everything, robbing them of one another's company. Perhaps that was why the latter part of the day seemed endless in length.

The storm waned as dusk fell, and Emma wondered if they would reach their destination soon or if they'd camp to avoid hiking in the dark. Neither option was particularly tempting. Before she could vocalize her thoughts, however, a sign appeared in the distance, and both increased their pace as their endurance rebounded on the faintest glimmer of hope. She could make out heavy lettering, though the words remained foggy and elusive, yet she was certain that it announced their arrival at the stables. She was so sure of this fact that she did not notice the sign's message was naught but nonsense; indeed, she failed to realize the lettering was enchanted until she was only a few feet away.

Once alerted, she halted immediately, throwing her arm out across Killian's chest to arrest his momentum. He silently obeyed but could not help the confused scowl that blossomed on his face, for he saw no reason for caution.

"Something's wrong," she said in a hush.

That was all she had time to say before the world went black for both of them.

Her next memory was of intense pain followed by a permeating feeling of illness that glued her eyes shut, for she was certain that whatever she saw would only make matters worse. She slowly became aware of a continuous swaying motion along with a constant clip, clop, clip, clop that seemed distant. As her aches receded, her strength grew, and she shifted her weight to test her body, to see if she was ready to rise.

Emma's hands protested, and with a pang of horror, she recognized that she was bound. She held back the panic and the fear erupting within, yet even so, her breath soon turned labored as her heart drummed up a tantrum of blood so fierce it threatened to burst from every pore.

"Brave," a cold, female voice spoke. "But pointless. Don't bother being coy, dear. I know you're awake."

Emma knew that voice, but it couldn't be. She was dead.

Everyone here is dead, she reminded herself.

She sat up and forced her eyes open, unwilling to lay helpless in the presence of an enemy. She vaguely registered that she was inside a carriage, but her focus fell entirely on the woman she'd hoped never to see again.

"Cora," she said stiffly.

"So informal, Second Keeper," Cora replied. "It's the Mayor to you. Do sit."

To her dismay, magic lifted her from the floor of the transport and slammed into the seat opposite Cora. Hoping that the villain would be too distracted by her gloating to notice, Emma began to channel her magic, focusing it so she could free herself of the rope.

"Where's Killian?" she asked.

"Killian?" Cora repeated in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually fell in love with some loathsome lighthouse Keeper! Foolish girl!"

"Where is he?"

"Tell you what," she replied. "I'll tell you where he is if you answer one question for me."

Emma could muster no more than a begrudging silence as agreement. Her magic wouldn't pool at her command, nor did it shake the bindings free of her wrists. Something was blocking her powers.

"How did you die?"

Emma jolted at the unexpected question and balked, "What?"

"It's hardly a complicated question. I died after your mother transferred a deadly poison from the Dark One to my heart with a cursed candle and then tricked my own daughter into returning it to my chest," Cora explained. "And you?"

"The Dark One," she replied.

"The Dark One?" Cora repeated, a thrill of laughter escaping her lips thereafter. "It certainly serves your mother right, doesn't it? She murdered me to save him, and then he turns around and kills you."

Cora smiled smugly at the thought as she relaxed into her seat, her posture still rigid and regal. They rode silently for a few minutes, each expecting the other to speak.

"Killian," Emma said. "You said you'd tell me - "

Cora interrupted, "Only after you answer my question."

"I just did!"

"You told me who, not how."

Emma bit her lip to stall, but Cora clearly wasn't going to tell her what she'd done to Killian until she got what she wanted. What option did Emma have? She needed to know what happened to him.

"Sword to the heart," she said tersely.

"We both know that your heart is protected."

"So did he," Emma replied. "Which is why he enchanted it."

"What is it about your death that you're so desperate to keep secret?" Cora asked. "I doubt the Savior had anything less than a blaze of glory."

Cora snapped her fingers, and every muscle in Emma's body clenched into unmoving tension. It wasn't painful, but neither could she relax. In fact, all she could move was her eyes and eye lids.

She blinked, and Cora was suddenly within an arm's reach with a single index finger extended dramatically, a faint purple glow emanating from the tip. It pressed hard into the center of her forehead, and she went cross-eyed trying to follow it. She knew the spell Cora was conjuring, for it was similar to the magic of Dreamcatchers, which draw out memories, though this spell sussed out secrets instead.

If she could have, Emma would've smiled, for while the spell was powerful, it sought all secrets in equal measure, then honed in those most deeply guarded by the heart. Any secret could lead astray, so she latched onto the most recent one, specifically the location of the rowboat left ashore, and guarded it with everything she had.

The magic burned against her skin, and her secrets flashed before her mind's eye in swift succession: the woman she lied to protect from her abusive husband; Graham, her previous feelings for him still unconfessed; the many things she'd never had a chance to say to Henry. The more she saw, the quicker they went, becoming more and more brief as they did so. She saw flickers of conversation with Regina, her father, her father... she even had a view of Rumpelstiltskin, her parents, Henry, Regina, and Robin standing in a dark corridor before the image of the hidden rowboat overwhelmed it.

Then it all stopped, and Cora withdrew her hand. It took Emma a moment to recognize that she could move again.

"Clever girl," Cora remarked, though by her tone made it plain that it was the exact opposite of what she thought.

Then she huffed a mirthless laugh before she pursed her lips as she shook her head, no.

"Did you really expect me to believe that Rumple killed you?" she asked, her voice derisive. "Don't you want to know what happened to the Keeper? The only way you'll find out is if you tell me how you died."

"Why do you care?" Emma countered. "Dead is dead."

"Except when it isn't," Cora said, her perception sharp as a barb. "Because you are more foolish than my daughter and even your own mother, walking into the Underworld for a pirate!"

"Why did you do to him?" Emma demanded, unable to hide the venom in her voice.

The smile on Cora's wicked face could make serpents slither away in revulsion. With a wave of her hand, she rendered Emma mute.

"I suppose now that I have the only living soul in the Underworld, there's no harm in telling you about the pirate's fate," Cora said. "It was nothing personal, you understand. I never had anything against Hook. In fact, he proved an adequate ally at one point, but he had served his purpose long ago. Now, well, he was a complication, an obstacle, for my plans. He would never stop trying to save you, to defend you, and I couldn't have that. I cut off his head and banished his body rom this realm."

Emma struggled fruitlessly against her restraints, desperate to escape and rescue Killian, but if anything, the ropes tightened against her skin. She wanted to cry out, to scream, because if he was dead, if he wasn't in this realm, then she had failed. All was lost.

Cora watched her railing misery with naught but indifference, save for the shine of malice in her eyes.

"Didn't I tell you, dear? Love is weakness."

End-of-chapter notes: In Greek mythology, Artemis is the goddess of the hunt, wild animals, and the wilderness. 

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