#combined with how I pictured them when I first read the books in like 5th grade

[kitkatdoodlez]

Some biblically accurate tributes

[grimoire-of-geekery]

Detect Magic: the Sixth World Tarot by Echo Chernik

(pictured here- the deluxe edition [left] and the Arcanist edition of the Sixth World Tarot by Echo Chernik)

Y'know, it's been a long time since I did one of these, but here goes. It's time for another Detect Magic review. I haven't put the Dork Magician hat on for a while, so let's give this a whirl!

Today we're taking a look at the Sixth World Tarot, by Echo and Lazarus Chernik. She has this available on her website (click the above link), which come signed by the artist and the author. I'm a bit bummed, I bought a copy of this deck juuuuust before she started signing them. Not her fault, but still. XD

For those of you unfamiliar with Shadowrun, it's a cyberpunk dystopian magic-and-mech RPG setting and fantasy novel universe which originated in the late 80's. The premise is that magic is growing stronger, the world experienced a big Awakening in the early 2000's, right around the same time that corporations managed to gain extraterritoriality. So, you have dragons running huge megacorps, which basically enslave people to be lifelong wageslaves from birth (or as soon as they can get their hands on a desired talent), immersive VR Matrix hackers, cyberware enhanced fighters and magic practitioners acting as "deniable assets" to said corps for all sorts of shady business.

Hence the name "Shadowrun."

This setting, one of my absolute favorite settings out there, has had the misfortune of developing a sort of eerie prophetic element akin to the Simpsons and its bizarre track record of prediction of ludicrous world events. Shadowrun was intended to be a cautionary tale, not an oracular one. That being said, that does make a tarot based on Shadowrun more than a little on-the-nose for predictive purposes. After all, they're telling the future without even trying. Wait until they actually put some effort into it...

All right, time to Detect Magic!

Accessory- Crit (4 out of 4) Stunning artwork, evocative imagery... this deck is gorgeous. It's so beautiful, and so intricate and well made, that people who don't even read tarot (or even particularly like tarot) buy several copies for their geeky collections, and even people who don't particularly care about Shadowrun have dropped their jaw when I showed the deck to them.

A bit busier than I'm used to working with (not the art, but the extras which I'll explain later), I was pleasantly surprised at how much I loved the cards when I first got them. The box for both editions I own are a nice durable gloss with a magnetic foldover closure, there's a ribbon inside each to help pull the cards and book out of the box, and the decorative artwork is gorgeous and fitting with the setting. Definitely aesthetically pleasing enough to take places, and durable enough to resist scuffing or tearing for on-the-go divination and gaming use.

Tome- Crit (4 out of 4) So, the Tome section of this review is supposed to be about how well the cards help one in the pursuit of learning magic and practicing geekomancy. And... really, I don't think I've found a deck (or any artifact of fandom) quite as good as this.

Let me explain.

Tarot, in the sorcery practice I teach, are already basically a pictorial grimoire, describing life in a way that allows us to learn the hidden movements, mysteries, and forces at play in our world. Art is good for things like that in general. It helps you see the world through a special lens, one which allows you to see things you might have missed.

The thing is, the lens of this deck is the Shadowrun continuity, which as I said earlier, has proven to be more than a little prophetic, and alarmingly so.

The magic system of Shadowrun is pretty adjacent to our own. Life force lines, spiritual power sites, astral projection and spirits and magical "energy" forms, initiatory mysteries... it's all pretty much the same as our own reality, just juiced up a bit, with some extra game elements added (don't even ask me about insect spirits).

This makes the deck particularly helpful if one wishes to learn magic in any of the myriad ways described in Shadowrun (and they're particularly respectful and diverse and true-to-life in their tradition descriptions).

BUT, it also has an entire lore-book called the Book of the Lost associated with it, which explains all these little secret sigils and images and easter eggs stored throughout the deck, which can be used for gamebuilding and storytelling, but are designed to be arcane indicators and omens, among other things. And the kinds of symbols they use range from sentences or mottos in dead languages, all the way to waveform patterns and dot-matrix maps. I swear, if you're one of those people who like puzzles and cryptography, this deck is even more fun than the Hermetic Tarot.

In summary, while you'll have to get some Shadowrun sourcebooks to really get deep into the canon lore, there's so much of it that the cards really show you on their own that I don't consider this a setback at all. Feel free to deep-dive with this deck, you'll learn a TON about magic if you let it guide you.

Relic- Success (3 out of 4) If you read the Book of the Lost, or Unearthed Arcana, or any of the 5th edition Shadowrun magic sourcebooks, you'll see that "tarot magic" is an up and coming thing in their canon. Each text helps you see how practitioners use the cards in-game for spellcasting, ritual magic, initiation practices and spirit summoning. The Tarot are already really valuable as central objects of importance to certain kinds of magical practice. This particular deck is designed to be so handy a central object that there's an entire book dedicated to it.

Weapon- Success (3 out of 4) The only reason I'm rating this a success instead of a crit is because they don't provide enough spreads in the various associated books for one to immediately begin casting spells with them, which means you'll have to do some designing. They do have a couple solid unique spreads for basic divination though.

The deck's canon in-game suggests ritual practices like gathering and doing a ritual with sets of related cards, and one such ritual was easily adapted in my own practice, into the Lucky Kimono spread I designed (which people can read about on my Patreon at the higher tiers). So, even without outright including spell-spreads, they sort of gave us clues anyway.

Again, you're going to need the sourcebooks, but it's only a few of them, and they're well worth a read even if you're not planning on playing the game (and I don't play in the actual Shadowrun mechanical system, though I do like the sourcebooks for campaign setting ideas).

Overall Rating: Critical Success (14 out of 16)

Achievement Unlocked: Novahot Echo's artwork is already legendary in the dork realms of geekomancy. She's done work for Dungeons and Dragons, Mage: the Ascension, House of Night... she's even working on a Fate: the Winx Saga playing card deck right now. Her art-nouveau delicacy combined with the powerful non-pandering way she draws women means that her paintings pack a punch!

That being said, it's rare that we see professional artists create a tarot deck of this magnitude as a gaming accessory. Most tarot decks of this caliber are found in professional occult catalogues or as independent projects by artists just wanting to flex their skills for their own reasons. To have a deck like this, clearly a labor of love by all involved, as a major element of gameplay within a franchise is really very special. And something this diverse, deep, and absolutely saturated with layers of ciphers and riddles... it's a geekomancer's dream come true.

Level Up: 2 Levels I think the only way anyone's going to be able to top this deck is if they manage to design a tarot deck that's also a fully immersive VR video game AND an AR game and divination tool useable with one's iPhone or Android. Legit, Echo and Lazarus left everyone in the dust. I haven't been this excited about Shadowrun since Shadowrun Returns first came out, and I got a set of dogtags that had a USB drive with the game on it.

It's just... crazy cool.

Full disclosure, I've had the deluxe edition of these cards for a while now, so I've basically been low-key squeeing about this deck since I first heard about it in 2018, even before I got it. I've been utterly astonished that people weren't more excited about them, and I wasn't hearing about them everywhere.

Before this, I created my own Shadowrun tarot method using the Universal Transparent Tarot (cuz, y'know, plastic and see-through and weird little mosaic readings all in one place, seemed fitting to me), and when I got the Sixth World Tarot? I don't think I've opened the UTT since!

Anyway, this is my review of this deck! Go follow the link up at the top of this post, and buy yourself one! And hey, let me know if you figure out the cool little map trick. My jaw literally dropped when I was shown that!

[vvanini]

This bus concept is so cute, and all the art is so amazing!! Do you have head canons for it? Like where are the losers going? How did they choose who they would sit with? Why was Richie sad?

Oh anon thank you so much 💖💖 and im so glad you asked because i am obsessed with bus trips and winter,,, i wanted to combine the two and drew them going on a ski trip jsjdkdkdl so here are my hc's for the losers

-> How they chose who to sit with:

They knew one of them had to sit alone because, well, they are 7 people, someone probably suggested they should draw straws but Bill volunteered right off the bat cuz he wanted to sit alone anyways lol

Stan is definitely the type to always sit on the window seat so he probably just asked a few people if they were okay with him doing that if they sat together and then agreed to sit with the first person who said yes (Bev)

I think Eddie would also be the type to always prefer window seats so he would just sit on one randomly and the other losers would choose their seats accordingly, i dont think they would have preferences over each other, everyone would be fine with sitting with anyone

-> Bill would come wearing the most comfortable clothing he has, he would also bring 2-3 pillows and would be the one to sleep the most lol. He likes to just get comfortable and doze off

-> Stanley would bring a polaroid to take pictures of the birds/views he might like, they also take lots of group pics. Richie uses it to catch the other losers off-guard and take ugly pictures of them

->  Bill = the one who falls asleep first

     Mike = the one who falls asleep last

     Stan = the one who keeps waking up to every little noise

    Bev & Ben = the ones who can sleep despite whatever is unfolding around them

-> When Richie finally falls asleep Stan gives Ben the polaroid and tells him to take a picture of Richie sleeping with his mouth open, as revenge

-> Ben makes the mistake of bringing gum and opening it in front of everyone and all the losers take one, literally leaving him none. But he would be fine with that cuz he's a cool guy 🥺

Him, Bev and Mike would be the ones to bring snacks i think

-> Eddie falling asleep on Mike 🥺 Mike would have the absolute best shoulders/arms to fall asleep on, not to mention their height difference making it perfect for Eddie to rest his head on Mike's shoulder

-> pun war: Richie suggests a  game where you have to make a pun about the chosen topic or pass. 3 passes and you get disqualified. Winner gets Bill's 3rd pillow

Last place: Eddie

6th place: Bev

5th place: Bill

4th place: Mike

3rd place: Stan

2nd place: Richie

1st place: Ben

-> Richie sitting next to Bill when Ben falls asleep cuz he gets bored, or when Mike moves next to Bill he sits next to Eddie, he just changes seats a lot

-> Everybody doing their own thing:

Eddie with his headphones listening to music looking outside, occasionally sharing it with Mike/Richie, feeling like an edgy main character, contemplating life

Mike bringing 2-3 books and attempting to read all of them

Stan looking out the window admiring the view, daydreaming

Ben playing on his gameboy and Bev watching him play from the back, taking turns playing

Bill resting againt his pillows, shoes off, rambling to whoever is listening, dozing off, daydreaming

Bev would bring a few of those friendship bracelet string thingies and he would teach Stan how to make a bracelet and they would make a few for the losers

Richie would play on Ben's gameboy or read comics but he probably would get motion sick and find someone to talk to instead

->  I know it seems like there'd be lots of shenanigans but i dont think they'd cause any ruckus, maybe they'd get too loud once in a while but that would be it i think

-> they would play games like never have i ever or telling facts about themselves that the others dont know about or telling interesting stories

As they get tired it would eventually turn into a therapy session and they would open up one by one, share whatever's upsetting them

The exact story Richie was telling? That's up to your imagination anon, i didn't have something in mind while drawing that sorry :/

That's all i can think of right now, feel free to share your own hc's if you have any!!

Now i wanna be 14 again lol

[script-nef]

Your Kisses Makes It Go NEON |  Hinata Shouyou

Inspiration: [NEON — DPR LIVE]

Category: fluff

5.7k words; colours decorate your time with Hinata

Very late birthday present for our ray of sunshine. Sorry ;^;

When Hinata thinks about you, he remembers colours. 

He met you only a few months after arriving in Japan. Bokuto was going on about a bar he frequents with Akaashi, exclaiming how “the atmosphere is really relaxing and comfortable! You could spend 2 hours there and it would only feel like a few minutes have passed! Also the bartender there is a really cute girl and she’s super sweet! Her drinks are incredible!"

Hinata was never fond of alcoholic drinks—they tasted weird and had a gross aftertaste—but accepted the offer at the promise of non-alcoholic ones. (He later realises this is one of the best decisions he made in his life.)

Which was why the normally rambunctious group sat quietly—well, not that quiet. That was impossible with the combination of Bokuto and Hinata, but they tried at least—at the counter, as they skimmed through the menu filled with pictures of multi-coloured drinks. Some of the drinks had such bizarre names (Hinata’s face exploded with red when he read "Sex on the Beach” because what kind of a drink is that?) and none of them looked particularly appealing.

A soft tap on the shoulder shook Hinata out of his contemplation, and he was met with the softest eyes when he looked up. You smiled at him.

"Do you need help choosing?“

He couldn’t answer that properly.

The blue top you wore suited you perfectly, a toned-down yet vibrant colour. It contrasted against the deep red of the wallpapers, and the dim lighting made you glow almost ethereal. It somehow felt like you belonged there, like you were the centrepiece.

You snapped him out of his reverie by explaining various drinks to him, what the ingredients were and how strong it was, trying to figure out what type of drink he wanted. Which was nice of you, and he really appreciated it, but he couldn’t understand anything other than the sound of your voice.

He heard pink—soft, warm, soothing and so, so sweet—and it drowned out everything else. His teammates bickering and trying to grab your attention, the mellow classical music in the background, even his own heartbeat. It was all dissipating, leaving just you and him in a bubble of calm.

And he couldn’t help but hope to hear your voice every day.

Hinata started frequenting your bar. ("My cousin’s the actual owner.” You told him on his third visit. “But I helped him decorate, so I feel like it’s mine as well.”) He still doesn’t like alcohol and you laughed when he described the tastes. He then realised that it was rude to complain about it to a bartender and began apologising profusely, but you just waved it off.

"It’s okay, not everyone likes the same things. There’s a wide variety of non-alcoholic drinks for you to enjoy. Like this one.“ You slid a mocktail over, and he beamed before sipping away at the yellow drink. The flavours burst on his tongue, and words could never fully encompass these sensations. A zesty explosion which reminded him of the beach and his experience in Brazil. Hinata sometimes wondered if you were a witch. Surely an ordinary person couldn’t evoke so many memories and emotions from a mere drink.

He couldn’t stop himself as he let out a content sigh, his face morphing into that of utter bliss. Every drink you made was yellow or orange, as vibrant as the sun and somehow tasted like them too. He asked you about it and you just giggled in response.

"It’s because you remind me of the sunshine, Hinata-san. You have an unbelievable amount of energy and unbridled happiness, it’s hard not to think of it when I look at you. Whenever you visit, I feel like I’m getting a vitamin D boost and it gets me through the next few days. And… the fact that your hair is orange really solidifies the image.”

He moved to touch his hair almost self-consciously, but you stopped him in his tracks by blurting out, “It suits you! Your hair, I mean. It helps you stand out in your matches and… you look adorable."

That stopped Hinata in his tracks. You looked away from him, cheeks dusted with red as you cleaned a cup. Hinata’s brain started spinning faster than ever. She just called me cute. No, wait, it was adorable but they’re synonyms. She just said I’m cute. And she watches our matches! Oh God, that means she watched all those times I couldn’t receive the ball properly. The insanely nice and pretty girl has seen some of my worst moments on the court.

"Do you… watch our games, [Surname]-san?” Hinata asked tentatively. Oh God, what if she watched the one where I fell over after I tried to receive it or the match against Inarizaki when I forgot to hit the ball?

"Just some of them. Bokuto-san kept on asking me to watch him play and… I gave in when you came. I kind of got hooked onto it after watching you, Hinata-san.“ With that, you scurried off by using another customer as an excuse, whispering a soft "excuse me”. He watched you walk away, gaining the courage to finally do what he should have done weeks ago.

You came back by the time his drink was finished, a smile replacing the blush and asking if the drink was to his taste. He replied the same way as always, “All your drinks are delicious!”

That never failed to put a smile on your face. A small grin bloomed, and Hinata took this as an opportunity.

"[Surname]-san, I wanted to ask if you were busy this Saturday? I recently found this place called Aobayama Botanical Gardens nearby and you said you like this sort of stuff, so I was wondering if you would like to come.“ Your eyes widened at that. Is he… asking me out? No, wait, don’t get ahead of yourself. Because, surely, this amazingly friendly and loveable national-level athlete would choose to spend his time with someone equally talented and amazing, right? But Hinata’s eyes were full of determination and hope, so much that it pushed you to confront your feelings as well.

"I would be delighted to take you up on that offer.” You quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled your number onto it. “Here’s my number. I’m free in the mornings, so… just give me a time, I guess."

As he stumbled out of the bar, Hinata couldn’t stop the excitement and anticipation bubbling throughout his veins, amazed at how easy that was. He let out a whoop that echoed throughout the street and ran home, desperately wishing time would flow faster.

His stomach was warm and fuzzy, and it really did feel like he drank the sun.

The 5th "date” (not officially though, since neither of you ever called it that) to a park had been cut short due to sudden downpour.

"Hinata, it’s okay if you get water on the floor! Get inside and close the door!“ Hinata hurriedly locked the door, glad to be out of the freezing shower and fierce wind. He slowly walked through the apartment, mumbling "excuse me” to no one as you were currently running around, trying to clean up and turn on the heating. A sneeze escaped him.

"Hinata, are you okay?“ You reached for his arm, only to recoil at the contact. "You’re freezing! You’ll get a cold at this rate.” You pulled him towards the bathroom, picking up some towels along the way. He was left standing on a mat in the bathroom while you ran off again. He looked around the room, taking in the details. There were small plants on the windowsill and various cosmetics littering the sink. The room smelled like you. …That was weird. Ugh, I shouldn’t be thinking that!

You came back holding a pile of clothing. “It’s my cousin’s, I don’t know if it’ll fit you though. It’s all been cleaned recently so don’t worry about that. Take a shower and I’ll have something warm ready by the time you’re done.” He opened his mouth to say “thank you”, but all that came out was another sneeze. You let out a soft shriek. “Shower! Now, Hinata! You’re an athlete, you can’t be sick!” You slammed the door on your way out.

—

The clothes fit him fine. When he came out, you were in the kitchen, stirring a cup.

"Ah, Hinata. Here you go, hot chocolate and some snacks. Sorry, but I have to go and shower as well. You can watch TV or read my books.“ You disappeared into your room, his calls of "You should have showered first! Thank you!” echoing in the hallway. He took a sip, enjoying the warmth travelling down his throat.

He scanned the house, immediately noticing the incredible amount of greenery you had on display and tucked in corners. Small slivers of light from the windows reflected off the leaves and basked the room in a soft green tone. There were a few he remembered from your trips to various gardens, (probably because he hung from your words like they were the most interesting information on earth) and some he couldn’t. He knew you would be able to recite the name, scientific name, meaning and other interesting facts as soon as he asked. You had an avid fascination for flora and alcoholic drinks, which was usually an odd combination but it suited you perfectly.

You came out soon, changed into comfortable sleepwear, and saw him stroking a leaf. It felt kind of weird, having your crush in your house. It’s not like it was hard for Hinata to creep his way into your heart, what with his brilliant smile and incessant energy. He was genuinely interested in everything you said even if it was trivial, like what you had for lunch or rowdy customers who are a pain. And you desperately wanted to let him into your life, to confess your affections for him. But what if you gave him your heart and it ends like last time? Hinata won’t do that, but… That’s what I thought before as well… No! Nope, let’s not think about that. You opted to sneak behind the unsuspecting boy, pushing the thoughts into a corner of your mind.

"That’s a Chinese money plant.“ Hinata shrieked at your sudden presence behind him. ”Pilea peperomioides, but I find the name pancake plant cuter. Come here, you need to dry your hair off. Can’t have you getting sick with a match next month.“ You sat on the sofa while he sat on the floor in front of you, giving full access to his damp mop of hair.

You rubbed at it gently with a fresh towel, admiring the orange locks. It became fluffy and bouncy so quickly. You loved it.

“[Surname]-chan?” You hummed. “Can I ask why you have so many plants?” Your hands stopped moving against his hair at that, and Hinata stiffened as well. It was only for a split second though, and you continued your ministrations.

“I like taking care of them, I guess. I used to date this person… and uh, it didn’t end that well. They weren’t that good of a person, let alone a partner. They just kept saying how lucky I was to be with them and that no-one else would love me… How much they hated my voice… But my cousin, the one that owns the bar, he helped me move over here away from them. He also introduced me to plant therapy to help me and well… It got out of hand, I guess.” You let out a soft chuckle, but it was laced with sadness and regret. “I’m sorry, this is a depressing topic, isn’t it? You don’t have to listen to all of my rambling, just forget about this.”

“I love you!” You looked down at him in surprise. Hinata’s face heated up, mouth set into a determined grin in order to not show how much he’s embarrassed by his sudden outburst. He clambered onto the sofa, gripping both of your hand tightly in his. “[Surname]-chan, don’t ever think or listen to anyone like that! I know we met only half a year ago, but you are one of the most kind and understanding and enthusiastic and strong person I have ever seen! These plants symbolise your strength and hope for a better future, so who cares if you have fifty or a hundred? You deserve the world and everything in it, and I…” He paused, squeezing your hands even tighter. “I love you! I’ve liked you since we met for the first time at your bar, my heart just stopped when I first saw you and all I could think when you talked to me was how much I love your voice!”

Hinata’s face was absolutely ablaze now, red covering every inch of his skin, but his steady gaze was filled with nothing but sincerity. “It’s getting repetitive but I really, really love you! And I… I want you to know that I would never treat you like that, and I’ll always tell you how much you brighten up my day by just texting me, or how cute your unending enthusiasm for your plants are. So… if you’re willing to trust me… will you go out with me?” The blushing settled down and Hinata’s lips were trembling slightly, fearing for the worst.

You were quiet, blinking owlishly at him. Seconds, which felt more like hours to Hinata, ticked past and silence continued. Hinata’s burst of confidence started to shrivel at your lack of response. Ah, maybe… maybe I’m too fast. She’s not comfortable and I’m pushing her too far! He retracted his hands from yours, moving away from the sofa.

“[Surname]-chan, I’m sorry, I’ll lea-”

“Wait!” You grabbed onto his hand, pulling him back onto the sofa. He fell with a soft “oof” and you crawled over to him. “Yes.” He stared at you.

“…Yes?” You nodded firmly, lips quirking into a delighted smile.

“Yes.”

Hinata froze for a moment before exploding into a happy squeal, arms wrapping around you and giggling into your neck. You wound your arms around his body as well, nudging your nose into the side of his face. Peals of laughter escaped from your lips. You could feel his heart thudding rapidly against your chest.

He pulled back to cover your cheeks with his hands before squealing delightedly once more and peppered kisses onto your face.

“Ahhh I’m so happy [Name]-chan!! I swear I’ll be the bestest boyfriend you’ve ever had!!”

And you don’t doubt him.

Cheers echoed throughout the stadium as Hinata spiked down the last point needed for the set and the game. His team crowded around him, with the exception of Sakusa, congratulating each other for another win. Hinata escaped from all the head rubs and back pats, eyes shifting to where you sat. You waved upon eye contact, yelling something out which was muted under everyone else’s screams.

His heart swelled, thudding hard against his chest and about to escape through his mouth. He put the sensation on pause, remembering to show his respect to the opposing team and to respond to various reporters. He really tried to give a coherent reply to the interviewer’s questions. He really did. But the amount of energy in him even after playing five full sets was threatening to explode at the thought of you.

The reporter finally thanked him for his time and Hinata wasted no time after bowing and rushed to you. He leapt over the small barricade and engulfed you in his arms, enjoying the feel of your skin and the smell of your perfume. People clamoured around you two, surprised the star player would suddenly barge into the crowd. He heard his teammates whistling cheekily, probably taking pictures to embarrass him later. But you were more important right now.

You ripped yourself away from his grasp, delight and amazement in your eyes. "Shouyou! Oh my god, that was so amazing how you spiked it down and wow, the videos don’t do you any justice at all! My eyes could barely follow you from all your running and jumping!” You babbled on about his performance, thanking him repeatedly for the ticket. He beamed so brilliantly, it was nearly blinding.

“Thanks, [Name]-chan! I’m so glad you came to watch!” And also that I didn’t make any mistakes in front of you. Hinata honestly thought he would shrivel in shame if he made a reckless mistake—such as the one a few months ago, when he stumbled over nothing and didn’t make it in time for the spike. (You commented about it a few days ago. He was mortified that his girlfriend—he still can’t believe you’re his girlfriend—saw such an embarrassing moment.)

You had shined brightly under the stadium lights, contrasting the black top with black slacks you were wearing. “It’s because I’m rooting for your team!” You said that just before the match, grasping his hand in yours. You hadn’t wished him good luck, “because I know you’re going to win this, Shouyou! You don’t need luck!” His heart rate had skyrocketed at your confidence in him, giving him the extra adrenaline to win the game 3:2. Even the commentators had noticed the excess energy he had, but it had been kind of obvious since he was jumping around everywhere without a break and didn’t look tired at all.

Ah, I love her so much. The thought filled Hinata’s head. He heard his teammates calling for him, yelling that he needed to change out of his sweaty uniform, but it felt like his limbs were physically attached to you. He just wanted to stay in this moment, high on adrenaline and your love for him. You gently pried him off, promising to meet him at the entrance of the stadium so you could finish the day with a date.

He nodded gleefully, taking one last look at you before, very reluctantly, detaching himself from you. He noticed the red lipstick you were wearing, the one he bought for you last week because yours had broken the day before. It took him the whole day with Yachi because there were so many shades and tones and something called hues? He didn’t even understand half of them, but he tried his best to find one which was a similar colour to your previous one. The smile on your face when he presented it to you was worth floundering around for the whole day.

You wore it constantly and Hinata was delighted that it suited your taste so well. Just as he was about to walk away, he turned back to quickly press a kiss onto your lips, taking some of the makeup when he pulled away. The whole stadium, spectators and players alike, gawked at his action, many blushing at the PDA and others squealing.

Your face burst into a flaming red as Hinata casually walked away, like he didn’t just kiss you. On camera. Which is live right now. Like literally, right now. In front of thousands of people and probably thousands more on the other sides of countless monitors.

Hundreds of articles and reports were made, headlines congratulating the Black Jackals for another win while displaying his beaming face with smudges of red on his lips. You could be seen in the background, crouching with your face buried in your hands.

(You reprimanded him severely for his actions, but more kisses being poured onto your lips cut it short.)

Shouyou loves your enthusiasm for celebrating special occasions. Christmas, Cherry Blossom Festival, New Year’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Obon. You once took a day off and whisked him off to Sapporo for the Snow Festival. He treasures the memory of your amazed face admiring the snow sculptures. He tried to make one for you but it ended up as a misshapen lump of ice. A photograph you managed to snap before it melted in his palm is pinned onto the large cork board in the living room.

But your favourite celebration by far is Halloween, or “All Hallow’s Eve, the beginning of Allhallowtide and the day to remember the dead! AKA the perfect day to stuff myself with sweets and pumpkin pies with no one to say anything to me!” as you called it. He video-taped the second time you repeated the grand announcement, giggling at your theatrics. Halloween always brought out your inner silliness.

The third Halloween together was no different. He returned home from his training to be met with cobwebs and cutout bats decorating the walls, illuminated by candles lining the shelves and cupboards. Sweet and savoury smells assaulted his nose and you peeked out from the kitchen.

“Shouyou? You’re back earlier than I thought. Come on, and watch the candles, I made a Halloween themed dinner!” The table was packed with different foods, which was… unsettling, at least to others. A bowl of pasta topped off with eyeball meatballs, a blood-red beef stew, chicken soup with pastry hands hanging out… Shouyou remembered his first Halloween with you, when he nearly fainted. But he learnt the charm of Halloween thanks to your overflowing interest in the day and now he loves it as much as you.

“This looks amazing, [Name]-chan!” He noticed your costume—a long, flowing black dress and an equally dark cape hung off your shoulder. The ensemble was topped off with a crooked hat. “A witch! Aw, you’re so pretty.” You pecked him on the lips.

“Correct and thank you. Your costume is in the bedroom, Shou-chan.”  He perked up at that, dashing to the room after returning your kiss. He returned soon with his outfit: a white shirt tucked underneath a red corset along with black slacks and a black cape, just like yours.

“[Name]-chan, it’s like a couple’s outfit!” He swished the cape around, flapping it like wings while running around the room. “I could be your bat familiar!”

 “Shouyou.” You had a reprimanding scowl on. “You’re making dust fly around. It’s going to go on the food!” He stopped with a “Sorry!” and took his seat on the small dining table, mouth watering at the sight. While other friends might be put off due to the visuals of your creation, nothing mattered to Shouyou other than your efforts and the taste. Which is always phenomenal.

You took a seat opposite of him, laying down mason jars filled with red liquids and eyeballs for the both of you. A chorus of “Itadakimasu!” rang through the house as you both dug into the food.

Shouyou let out an unidentifiable noise of  at the perfectly prepared dinner. He shovelled different pieces of food in, uncaring of his table manners. You laughed and reached over to wipe his mouth. Mid-way through the meal, he grumbled in annoyance as the cape collar kept poking him in the cheek and opted to remove it for the time being. Then the corset, even though it was supposed to be loose, as it was pushing down on his stomach.

By the time he tapped out, half the food on the table was finished and moans of “I can’t… eat… anymore…” escaped him and you giggled in response. His dramatics never ceased to amuse you.

“Shou-chan, help me clean the table please. We have to finish one last activity before turning in for the night.” He replied in groans. “Shou-chan! I promise you’re going to love this, but I need you to help me. Come on, just wrap them up and move them to the fridge, please.” He reluctantly lifted his head from the table and followed your orders, carefully sealing the dishes off.

By the time he moved all the food, the table was covered with spare newspapers and a huge pumpkin was laid on top of it. He gasped at the sight, realisation dawning on him. “Are we making a jack-o’-lantern?!” When you nodded in confirmation, a shriek of delight left him. You immediately calmed him down, reminding him that this is an apartment and people can hear him. It did nothing to stop his energy.

“Shou-chan, you do know that this requires knife work and I can’t give it to you if you’re this fidgety, right?” That seemed to work. He immediately stopped his restlessness, giving you puppy eyes as if to say “I won’t misbehave”. You knew it wouldn’t even last for 5 minutes.

The process of pumpkin carving actually turns out to be quite easy and smooth-sailing despite Shouyou’s absolute lack of self-control and abundance of impulsiveness. He would have eaten all of the scooped out pumpkin fillings if you didn’t stop him in time. Instead, it was dropped into your pot for a “special dish”. While it simmered on the stove, you took over to carve the face out of the pumpkin as you won the argument of “who has steadier hands and better carving skills”. Your boyfriend seemed content enough trying to pick the right candle to place inside.

“Ta-da! Done! And done quite well if I say so myself.” Shouyou looked up from his collection of candles and smiled brilliantly at your handiwork. It was a crow, its wings outstretched like it was soaring through the sky. “Do you like it? I remembered you saying your high-school team’s symbol was a crow so… I practised making it perf—”

He pulled your body into his, gripping tightly as if you were going to dissipate away. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I don’t understand how lucky I am to have you… I love you so much [Name]-chan. So, so much.” He mumbled against your neck. You chuckled softly and ran your fingers through his hair.

“It’s the same for me, Shouyou. I’m fortunate to have you brighten up my life, to have someone like you love me.”

A candle was dropped into the finished pumpkin, the light orange light enveloping the two of you as you cuddled on the sofa. Confessions of love drifted through the air as your lips pressed against his repeatedly, something gentle and warm unfurling between your hearts.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Shouyou received three months of paid leave. It was to help him recover from his (“slightly!”) sprained wrist and also for his non-stop involvements in all the matches so far. Fans wanted to plead for him to take a break every now and then, but seeing his joyful face on the court made them swallow down their complaints. So when the notice of his brief leave became official, the comment section was filled with encouragements and “have fun with your girlfriend!”

Which was why he planned three months’ worth of travelling—from Japan to South Korea to Iran to Russia to Poland to Italy to France to the US to Brazil to Argentina and back—with you accompanying him. You gladly accepted his invitation, full of anticipation at exploring through the various countries. You asked about the odd destination choices, which he replied with a mumble of “��they have high-ranking volleyball teams.” His enthusiasm for the sport, even when he was injured, never ceased to amaze you.

“I’m glad you’re making the most of this time, Shou.” Your fingers carded through his hair while rubbing it dry. This became one of his favourite activities with you, other than snuggling and kissing. Or sleeping together. Or getting into tickle fights. Or eating together. (He just loves everything he does with you.)

“Yep! This will be an amazing opportunity to see all the other athletes! I already called them and they all said yes! But… are you fine with it?” He peeked up from his spot underneath you. “I want you to enjoy this trip as well, not just because I’m forcing you to come with me.” You smiled and placed a kiss on his nose.

“Of course I’m fine, Shou. As long as you don’t leave me alone the whole time for volleyball, I guess.” He spluttered an “Of course not! I’ll only watch them for a couple of hours, all the rest of our time can be used for sight-seeing! I bet this trip is going to be life-changing!”

And it was. Shouyou’s mornings were spent in various stadiums, eyes digging into each player’s forms like a hawk. Turning practice match offers down was practically torture for him, but he couldn’t play against them to due to his injury. When his thoughts of “I can play just this once!” surfaced, his promise with you of “no playing until your finger is fully healed” interrupted him. And he would sooner die than ever break a promise with you.

He would then return to the hotel around lunch to cuddle and share a meal with you. You would be stuck in the bed due to jet lag—how Shouyou managed to be so unaffected when you were half-dead is a mystery—but a few kisses and you would be as wide awake.

The afternoon was used to explore the city, ranging from famous land-marks to small eateries which was recommended to him via comments. (His fans around the world were so helpful.) He held your hand as you weaved through the streets and squeezed through large crowds, gripping firmly as if to say “I’m never letting you go.” Small souvenirs were bought by sets and hundreds of photos were taken to be weeded through and uploaded onto social media. Each city in each country was scouted the same way, and it was honestly paradise on Earth.

“Shou, there’s somewhere I want to go.” You whispered to him on the last night of your stay in Brazil. He moved so that he would be laying at eye-level to you, his body pressing onto yours. “It might mess up the schedule a bit, but there’s somewhere I really, really want to go. It’ll only take a day out of our stay in Argentina.” Your eyes sparkled despite the darkness of the night. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

—

The tour bus was comfier than you expected, gliding across the paved road in the middle of nowhere. Shouyou slept soundly next to you, face half-covered with thick blankets and fluffy pillows. You pulled a hand out from your cocoon of warmth, gently tracing his facial features. His serene face was rare, even when he was sleeping as it normally contorted to match whatever dreams he was having.

A wave of affection washed over you, threatening to drown your senses. Ah, how did I get so lucky? To be with someone this kind, this understanding and this loving. You placed a small kiss on his lips, jostling him awake as the bus slowed down to a stop. He let out a yawn, noticing the proximity of your face to him and gave you a quick peck.

“[Name]-chan? Why have we stopped?” The driver turned on weak lights, awakening other passengers as well. Shouyou leapt up from his seat, grabbing his jumper and yours at the driver’s words. “We’re here! Come on, we need to go!” Your eyes lit up in delight as you took his hand, bounding out of the bus.

The wide expanse of Uyuni’s salt flat greeted you. The night sky was clear, illuminated by the Milky Way and its countless stars. The usually dry plain was wet thanks to a timely shower a couple of hours ago, reflecting the lights off the crystalline ground like an enormous mirror.

The heavy smell of salt assaulted your nose as you stepped onto the ground, softly cracking as you walked on it. Shouyou was right next to you, eye glimmering at the ineffable sight before him. You ventured to the middle of the plain, leaving the gasps of delight and bewilderment of other travellers.

The violet sky was everywhere, underneath your feet and above you. Shouyou caught up, hugging you from behind and squeezing softly.

“I understand why you wanted to come. This is beyond beautiful.” He whispered into your ear, eyes gazing off into the distance. You nodded softly. It felt right, underneath the spotless sky and in the arms of your lover. This is the moment.

Shouyou ripped his arms off of your body at the sensation on his finger. A gold band sat on his finger, glimmering in the starlight. He gaped at it, eyes wide in astonishment. His mouth repeated to open and close, unable to find the correct words as his mind went blank.

“[Name]-chan?! What’s this?!” He shrieked at you, finally finding his voice. “Wh-what what. What. Am I dreaming? Did you just- is this-” You laughed at his flustered state, falling into his embrace while he didn’t take his eyes off the piece of jewellery.

“Yes, Shouyou. It is.” You held him at arm’s length, a hand cupped on his cheek. “The last 5 years with you were… indescribable. You never stopped showering me with affection, always made me feel loved and accepted me for who I am. I never felt neglected despite your constant absence for volleyball… if anything, you motivated me with your endless enthusiasm for the sport. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn’t met you, nor one without you.” You smiled softly, wiping the tears trickling down his cheeks. “So, Hinata Shouyou—the love of my life, my heart and soul—will you marry me?”  

Dry heaving and shuddering cries left his mouth as he nodded, broken declarations of love and “yes” mumbled against your lips in between hitched gasps for air. You kissed him back, giggling at his unending affection.

“I’ll… I’ll do my best to make you happy for— for the rest of your life.”

“I know you will, my love. I will too.”

Life changing trip indeed.

blue,

pink,

yellow,

green,

red,

orange,

violet,

you.

[thesleepyspoonie]

1, 3, 5, 7,9, 36, 38, 40, and your favorite numbers or questions. (You can combine the series questions into one answer.)

1. Approximately how many books have you read??

gosh. I have no idea how many books I've read. I was a MAJOR bookworm from about 5th grade until my 2nd year of college. I stopped reading for awhile until December 2018 when I said my new years resolution for 2019 would be to read more. I read 15 books in 2019, 33 books in 2020, and 17 so far in 2021. 🤗

3. Favorite first book in a series.

Odd Thomas, of course.

5. Favorite 3rd book in a series.

Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire. Book 3 of 6 in the Wayward Children's series. I love the dreamy, fairy tale feel.

7. Book that kept you up all night.

Sorry, but im bringing it up again. Into the Drowning Deep kept me up many of nights, whether it was because I forced myself to keep reading even though I was exausted... or because i couldnt stop thinking about it after I set it down.

9. Book you expected more of.

Oh my goodness, Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer. I had that book on my Want to Read list for literal years, had it suggested to me SO many times because of my love for weird sci-fi. But my god. I was SO disappointed. There was damn near no plot, no questions answered, nothing. The pace was mind numbingly slow & the things that were supposed to be scary were cheesy. I'm mad all over again just thinking about it.

36. Favorite fantasy book.

You know... I really like fantasy concepts but I have trouble getting into fantasy books. I think its because I am very bad at creating/holding pictures in my mind & there is SO much description in fantasy books. Especially high fantasy where there's a whole world of stuff I need to learn/picture/remember. I actually just started The Unspoken Name last night, which is a high fantasy novel about orcs. But im already struggling. If anyone has a fantasy book to recommend, I'd love to try more out!

38. Favorite romance book.

Ok so try not to judge me too hard lmao. Rhapsodic by Laura Thalassa. It's actually a trilogy & I loved all three, but you could totally stop at one while still satisfied.

I thought the world building in these books was phenomenal. The main character is part siren and watching her go from abused to empowered was very motivating. The love interest is a hot fae dude, so thats fun. I will add, there should be a TW for abuse/rape themes throughout. But personally, as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I found it inspiring.

40. Favorite historical fiction book.

The Impossible Girl by Lydia Kang! It's set in 1850s (my favorite time period!) New York and follows a young girl who is the only known female resurrectionist - meaning she digs up buried bodies that have interesting medical abnormalities & sells them to the local universities. She does this not only to make money, but to keep tabs on the people who are searching for her. She is the famous "girl with two hearts" who is sought after by doctors and museum curators. Then, you know, murders and such. It's an intense and romantic book!

Thanks so much for the questions! I adore talking about books 😍

[bifacialler]

This is maybe weird question, but. I'm strugling with drawing faces. My problem is, that any method of admeasuring face can't help me .Is there anything you can recommend me to do it better?

…this is a first art ask I ever got, this is exciting! =))

You wanted an essay. Here is an essay.

Let me start with a preface:

Faces are complicated. They are formed not only by bone and muscle, aka the ANATOMICAL STRUCTURE, but the also exist as parts of HEADS, that are parts of BODIES, and out bodies are basically objects like any other that exist within the multi-dimentional space of perceived reality, aka SPACIAL POSITIONING.

Sounds terrifying, I know.

Good thing about it is - we all are unique, therefore all faces are unique! Before starting with anatomy and such, I think it is important to welcome this idea that this Uniqueness IS Beauty. Therefore every face, no matter the proportion, racial features, anything else, is BY DEFAULT beautiful.

Basically, when drawing a face, the artist’s job (especially if this artist is of academic school, or focused on realism) is to detach from personal perception of aesthetical, and focus on studying the beauty of nature’s design. There will be time for personal taste and creative decisions.

To break the rules you need to know what rules there are.

How to Draw a HEAD

(Mostly because you can draw a disambullated head with some of that shoulder action and get away with it. When you draw just a face - it’s… well it can serve a purpose, but there will be questions. It’s generally better to think of a face as part of a head, it makes life a lot easier.)

As it is customary, the process of drawing an object starts with understanding two basic concepts:

The base shape: if you simplify the object to it’s most basic 3-dimentional shape, what shape would it be (a box, and elongated box, a sphere, a pyramid and so on.) Out of which comes the next one-

Where that object exists in relation to you, aka the Artist, since you are the one who will be drawing it. You have the power. The Power of Perspective.

A head is an object like any other. And a head, as an object, is A BOX.

The basic proportions of the box - and I’m talking the commonly art teacher accepted medium - are:

4 units tall : 2 units wide : 3 units deep

What is a unit, you ask? Will come to that, when talking about points and proportions.

So we have a box, and it’s something like this. 

(Picture belongs to Stan Prokopenko, who is a remarkable artist of anatomical drawing, and generally a professional art teacher. I suggest watch everything he ever made, he has ton of stuff on anatomy. http://www.stanprokopenko.com/)

The grey line in the middle signifies the line of symmetry of the face. It’s on the front plane of box, in the middle. The box is much easier understand that a head with a face. 

What we do with the box? We rotate it in any possible we can come up with, while keeping in mind the proportions. It’s important to always keep those proportions in the back of your mind. 

Why we do this? Because this box will tell us about about the lines of perspective that will interact with our portrait’s features. As you can see on Stan’s picture, the yellow lines indicate which way perspective goes.

(Perspective is a whole another topic altogether that would require a separate tl;dr post, so I’m going to step over it in this essay.)

I took the liberty to use one of your pictures to illustrate, especially since you asked for some feedback. 

Overall this is a good drawing, but see how the orange lines start to stray away from the perspective the box exists in? By sticking to the directions the box helps us with, we can get rid of that feeling of something being crooked - becasue all the facial features will exist in the same architecture as the rest of the head.

Second reason why the box is our friend is becasue on the box we can clearly understand: okay, this side is facing the light, and this is the side is in the shadow. This is the break line between the planes of the object. 

But Ler, you may say, the face is curvier than a box.  

Yes, young padavan. Here is a trade secret: first we tackle the overall, and then we go into details. (then we come back to overall, then back to details, and so on, until you can’t find anything sticking out of the unity of the piece, and you can decide that your job here is done. [it is never done, but perfect is an enemy of good, and sometimes good is “good enough” and “as good as I can do at the moment which is still good”)

This may sound familiar, because it is - it’s a lot like the Loomis method, which is, in it’s essence, your good old illustrative version of academic portrait, but without the hassle of learning all skull bones and facial muscles and crying yourself to sleep.

See how he clearly identifies here the border between the frontal planes of the faces and the side ones? Look how is is not afraid of laying that tone on the sides? This is what I’m talking about. He got it from The Box. 

(I would suggest reading Loomis’s books in general, and especially “Drawing the Head and Hands”, where the illustration above is from. His method of drawing heads is quite good, and he explains it in a very approachable way.)

Now that we sorta figured out the head in space, and the box the head truly is, lets figure out 

Where Do We Put The FACIAL FEATURES

There are a few different school of thought on “where the features are” and “what are the proportions”, so I’m going to share with you how I work around them.

My personal approach is a mix of different methods, and years of life studies - as I explained in the beginning every face is unique and has different proportions, and the more “cartoony” and “caricaturistic” (is this a word?) the style is, the more those proportions are exaggerated. 

My approach to placement of features goes like this [unless I got a life model before me, then I measure with my pencil, old school style.] It’s pretty math intense, so buckle up.

1) [Purple] Cranium is a SPHERE. The axis of the sphere is your friend. Cut it in 3 equal parts. Add one part down - hey presto, this is the height of your head. [Remember the thing about the proportions of the box? These are the units I was talking about. It’s all coming together now.] 

2) [Purple] Eyes exist in the middle of the axis. 

3) [Orange] The protrusion of the face is *design* and may vary. Rule of the thumb: make it an arc, similar to what I did. The lower jaw corner falls into the same cathegory, but I prefer it to be on the same level as the corners of the mouth.

4) [Magenta] Mark 1/7th of the height from the top - that’s your hairline. 

5) [Red] After you mark the hairline, divide the remaining part of the height in 3 equal parts. Lower part is chin to root of the nose, the middle one is root of the nose to eyebrows (actually to the glabella, but let’s call it eyebrows), the upper - from eyebrow to hairline. this is the Rule of Thirds. In reality nothing is perfect.

6) [Yellow] This is the tricky part. This is where I personally mark the border between the frontal facial planes and the side ones. There is a general guideline on how it’s done, but it does require understanding the skull and the subplanes of the frontal plane of the face. In layman’s terms, go from the hills of the forehead down to the middle of the brow, around the eye socket, over the cheek bone, through the middle of the cheek (preferably on an arc) to the chin bone, not foregetting the chind also has upper plane and lower plain and yes, there is a break between them, rounded as it is. 

7) [Dark green] Back to eyes. They are also spheres. In the drawing above I marked them as “width of 1 eye = 1/5th of the face’s width”. This is my design (and also the “fashion portrait design”, but don’t get me started) . What is not my design is that the distance between eyes is about the width of one eye, very convenient. The distance between the ear and the outer corner of the eye is 1 third of the rule of thirds. (see point 5) Don’t forget: eyelids cover the eyeball like peel covers the orange. It has thickness.

8) [bright blue] EAR! Love ears. Their traditional space is snuggly in the middle third. Also their angle usually follows the angle of the nose. 

9) [light green] Nose and Mouth. 

Nose.Take your middle third. Divide it by three (approximately). The top part is where the dip of the nose is. For reference is about the same level as the eyes, maybe a bit higher. The nose itself is a trapezoid. The general width of it - the space between the eyes. There is a shadow under it, in most cases. When drawing from reference, pay attention is the root of the nose goes lower than the edges of the nostrils. It’s important. That’s where character hides.

Mouth. Take your lower third. Divide it by two. That’s - no, it’s not the slit of the mouth. That’s the dip under the lower lip. Take the distance between the eyebrows and the eyes, measure it, and apply from the root of the nose down. That’s where the upper edge of the upper lip is. The width of the mouth is very different, but I prefer somewhere between the irises. 

Oof, that’s about it.

If you are looking into indepth anatomy, I’m going to recommend the bible of all anatomy artists, Mr Gottfried Bammes, and “The Complete guide to human anatomy for artists and illustrators”. No better book was ever assembled. I wouldn’t suggest “reading” it, it’s dry as stale bread, but it has hundreds of illustrations that are pretty self-explanatory.

How to combine this whole knowledge together?

By drawing. Honestly, the rest comes with practice. Lots and lot’s of it. 

I would personally suggest downloading a million photos of faces, plugging them into photoshop and studying then step by step as per process above. 

Second, I would suggest making studies of separate parts of the face: mouth, ear, eye and nose. Break them down into basic shapes. Look at what covers what. There things do in, where they come out. 

Third. After you do your studies on photos, draw the faces you studied. But don’t draw them to minute details. Be as constructive as possible. Basic shape - ok. Hairline - ok. Thirds in proper perspective! - ok. Border of light and dark sides - ok. And so on. 

First hundred many look like crap. It’s okay. You are learning. Then things will get better. The more you draw - the better it goes. The more your drawing chakras open. 

I hope this was helpful. Have fun. Do art. Post art. 

[aspiestvmusings]

THE MASKED SINGER (US) S3

THE MASKED SINGER (USA) SPOILERS! 

Here’s what we know so far. 

Premiere date: Feb 2nd (02/02/2020) right after SB

Clues: There will be clues (video clips?) aired/shown during SuperBowl (commercials) on Feb 2nd

Clues/Clue packages: will be presented differently this time...to make the guessing harder.

Voiceovers: This season the clue package voice overs apparnetly won’t be done by the celebs themselves, who are in the costumes, but by their family members/relatives/friends - people, who know them. (Why not hire a VO actor to read all of the contestants clues instead of involving more people - because the more people that know the identities the harder the secret is to keep, right?) 

SEASON 3 COSTUMES: 

A-Z 

Astronaut 

Banana 

Bear 

Elephant 

Frog 

Kangaroo

Kitty (Cat)

Llama 

Miss Monster 

Mouse 

Night Angel 

Rhino

Robot

Swan 

Turtle 

Taco 

T-Rex (EDITED TO ADD: JUST REVEALED)

White Tiger 

And based on the order of the revealed masks, it looks like they are divided into three groups in the following way (these are my guesses based on the order in which each mask was revealed, but there could be mistakes in my guesses): 

Edited: to correct the names/masks of the 6 contestants in group A, because it’s not the first 6 costumes revealed. Same with Groups B & C. The order of costume reveal is not the order they’re divided into groups of six. 

. 

GROUP A (1) 

(Pink) Miss Monster Mask (looks female & she is short!) 

Robot Mask (looks male, but he is short-ish; costume: vintage robot)

Llama mask (looks male; costume: tourist w. a camera style)

Turtle Mask (ETA: sounds male, & he is short-ish, could be a team-sports baller - athlete, but sounds like he can sing; costume: punk style leather)

White Tiger Mask (looks male & he is very tall - looks to be around/almost 2m) 

Kangaroo Mask (ETA: looks & sounds female...actually...)

GROUP B (2) 

Banana Mask (cannot tell if M or F, but possibly a female artist) 

Mouse Mask (looks female) 

Frog Mask (looks female to me, but could be male, is possible an athlete; costume: purple “Mask” suit)

Kitty (Cat) Mask (looks female, costume: LV burlesque show style)

Elephant Mask (looks male, & he is tal-ish; costume: design gives me MCU quantum realm/time travel space suit vibes)

Taco Mask (cannot tell if M or F) 

GROUP C (3) 

Astronaut Mask (cannot tell if M or F, most likely male, they are short-ish) 

(White) Swan Mask (looks female)

Rhino Mask (looks male, costume: safari & pilot jacket)

Bear Mask (looks female, costume: purple & pink teddybear) 

Night Angel Mask (looks female) 

T-Rex Mask (looks male; costume: Reneissance/Shakespeare style look)  PS. it seemed to be something resembling a 2-headed dragon or so.. so  2 people in one costume or like llama, who has two sets of legs... but instead...it’s a “dinosaur”) 

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

This year the US show has record number of masks/celebs (18), so they are divided into 3 groups (last year it was 16 and 2 groups). And this year the show is filmed and airs differently. First the first group filmed all their episodes, then the second group, and lastly the third group (filming currently). Then only after that all remaining contestants from each group are “united” and compete against each other in the “quarter finals”. 

And they also air the episodes this way: First three episodes are group A. And since each week one mask is voted out, then in the end that leaves 3 masks standing in Group A “finale”. Then next three episodes (eps 4-6) is group B. And then next three eps (eps 7 - 9) is Group C. That means that during the first 9 episodes each group competes separately. 

Then all remaining 9 contestants (3 + 3 + 3 from each group) get together, and form one group...and the show continues as known from previous seasons. And still each week one (or in some weeks 2) masks are voted out. Til only 3 remain by the Finale episode. This means that S3 has most likely 15 episodes or so (depending on how many weeks have double-eliminations between episode 10 and The Finale)

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

Each costume looks kinda male or female. But you cannot judge the gender of the celeb under it by the look of the costume. If the costume is pink and/or has a dress, it’s not definitely a female celeb wearing it, though they do prefer to use pink for girls & blue for boys...so far. And if the costume is dressed in a suit, it’s not definitely a male celeb wearing it. 

Some costumes, which show the persons physique more, make it a lot easier to guess who is wearing it (their gender, their size - height & bodytype), but even then there could be curveballs thrown in there. 

I have added guesses on who I think is wearing the costume (male or female celeb) based on how much of the person can be seen under the costume. And based on whats shown in the video clips, and promo pics...the little clues about the celebs that we’ve gotten. Some of these estimates might be off. 

We know based on the little info that has come out that there is (at least) one very tall celeb in the costume (Taco, Tiger?). And we know that at least two contestants are not very tall (a bit or quite a bit shorter than the shows host, Nick C., who is 6 feet..or so = about 180cm tall). 

Regarding height: When Turtle, Miss Monster, Kangaroo & White Tiger stand next to each other, then they are in order of height with Tiger the tallest & Turtle & Miss Moster the shortest. Miss Monster is quite a bit shorter than host Nick. Robot is also shorter than host Nick. Other short or short-ish contestants include: astrounaut...

IF we assume that (like in most of the time on this format) there are equal number of male & female contestants, then... that makes the guessing based on just the costumes easier...on which one each is. 

EDITED OUT AFTER EP 1 HAD AIRED.  

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

STATS: 

The 18 celebs in the costumes, combined have: 

in total: 69 Grammy nominations (so at least a one or few big(ger) names from music world) EDITED on Feb 3rd: - 25 (the number of noms that the Robot, the 1st mask voted out, has) = 44 left for the remaining 17 contestants 

in total: 88 gold record (so at least one or a few big(ger) names from music world) EDITED on Feb 3rd:  - 12 or more...depending on which ones count here (as far as I know all or almost all of the Robot’s albums have gone Gold and/or Platinum, and he’s released over 10 albums + mixtapes etc) = 76-ish left for the remaining 17 contestants 

in total: 11 super bowl appearances (this doesn’t mean that they’ve played during SB, it also includes all apperances during SB games...like performing during half-time, ...any celeb appearance during the game/broadcast...)

in total: 3 stars in the (Hollywoood) “walk of fame” (so at least 3 big names, who have been given a star there) 

in total: 160 tattoos (this means at least a few celebs, who have a lot of tattoos, because 160 divided by 18 gives us 8-9 per person, but I’m guessing some have none/max 1, and some have more than 10)  EDITED on Feb 3rd: - 86 (the number of tattoos that Robot, the 1st mask voted out, has - his tattoos made up about half of all the tattoos) = 74 left for the ramaining 17 contestants 

in total: 1 title in the “Guinness Book of World Records”** - this one could be easy to figure out if someone took the time to check the list of record holders in those books...

** There are quite many celebs, who have been in Quinness World Record Book. It doesn’t have to really be a “real record” - it can be something like “reached 1 million followers on IG the fastest” or “took the most selfies in a limited timeframe”. Some of the famous people, who have/had in 2019 (when they were cast) or have had titles of Guinness Records include: Eminem, Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Shakira, Ed Sheeran, Sam Smith, Justin Bieber, Dolly Parton, Ozzy Obbourne, The Rock, RDJ (kinda, thanks to his fans), Ellen DeGeneres, Jennifer Lawrence, Cristiano Ronaldo (athlete), Alex Rodriguez (athlete)

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

And that is basically all theyve revealed so far. Which I personally consider a plus. And I hope that theyve really upped their game, and dont make guessing so easy. For profesisonal singers among the contestants their voice alone will give them away most times (examples: Leopard, Rottweiler last season... who have such unique, well known voices). So it’s a bit more challenging for people guessing for the clues not to be so easy. Which is why I hope they really made the clues harder...like they have promised in the previews. 

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

SPOILERS: We have knows for a little while who would be eliminated first. Because weve seen the four costumes that make it to the last epsiode of Group A (ep 3x03) - Kangaroo, Monster, Tiger, Turtle. Since the Robot was unmasked first, that means Llama will be unmasked next (on Web, Feb 5th). We know this because they always miss that they’ve included soem revealing bits in their promos (or include the pictures/clips on purpose). They accidentally included an image of the last four masks for griup A. And you can also determine who stays for how longif you pay attention to the clips - you can tell how many different performances each mask has - cause for some they include just one, for some several, and the more different songs/performances the further they make. 

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

How many different perdormances from each mask/contestant have they included in their promos/promo clips (this means: they persorm AT LEAST this many different songs): 

Astronaut

Banana = 1

Bear

Elephant

Frog = 1

Kangaroo = 1 + 1 

Kitty (Cat) 1

Llama 1 

Miss Monster 1 + 1 

Mouse 1 

Night Angel

Rhino

Robot 1 

Swan

Turtle 1 + 1 

Taco 1 

T-Rex 

White Tiger 1 + 1 

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

[laurasinele]

Magpies Chapter 2 (a Fictober19 prompt that inspired a following chapter)

I was on a streak but shit happens, and havn’t published anything since the 7th, meaqning that today I’m flooding your dashes with my bullshit. 

The drarry drabble I did for the second prompt has been quite succesful, and prompt 8 inspired me a -I believe- worthy continuation. There’s probably going to be a third chapter but I don’t want to push it. 

Prompt 8: “Can you stay?”

Fanfic from: Harry Potter saga

Tags: Harry&Draco

Warnings: death mentions, ptsd, anxiety attack

Ao3

Next Friday came and went, and many others. Mrs Appleworm sent an owl with chocolates, a picture with her grandchildren and a couple of lines of motherly advice. Draco sent a selection of herbs from his grounds with instructions to brew a reconstituent potion for the breastfeeding mother, and some books on the magic of identical siblings. Andromeda visited with Teddy. Mother managed to write a couple of letters, her calligraphy improving slightly. Life went on like it had been usual for the past seven years. Except for Fridays. 

Harry brought Halloween candy and pumpkin juice. Draco made some sandwiches and tea, and they sat by the fireplace and went about the motions of every Friday’s paperwork and control spells.

“There’s only two more years of this. How do you feel about it?”, asked Harry.

“I don’t feel anything special about it”, answered Draco calmly.

“You don’t? Don’t you want the house arrest to end? Don’t you have plans for when it does?”.

“I’m rotten rich and a wizard. I could just lay around for the next one hundred years and there would still be plenty for Teddy to inherit”, he said as he trapped a chocolate frog and popped it in his mouth.

Harry scoffed, amused. 

“Between the Malfoy, the Potter and the Black fortune, Teddy is going to be able to buy Hogwarts”.

“I hope he does. Even at 8, he doesn’t strike like the kind of person to set mortal traps for children”.

“Wow. Did you just roasted Dumbledore?”, laughed Harry.

“I will never not roast Dumbledore. He was wise and powerful but he was completely nuts. Not as in Death Eater nuts or Voldemort nuts, but he was too chaotic to be in charge of children”.

After a brief silence, Harry admitted: 

“That’s what I’m working on in therapy. Well, one of the things I’m working on. To be able to blame Dumbledore”.

Draco perked up. After that first time with the magpies skipping along the windowsill, Harry hadn’t mentioned his therapy or Hogwarts. Draco waited for him to open up more, watching him sit in the puffy armchair across the coffee table cramped with candy wrappers and crumbs, eyes set stubbornly on the flames in the hearth. The clocks around the house started to chime. It was five in the afternoon, the time in which Harry usually took his leave, but he wasn’t moving. Nor talking. 

“How can a muggle therapist handle that?”, dared to ask Draco in the softest voice he could muster.

“Her daughter is a witch”, explained Harry. “She’s in 5th year now, a Slytherin, by the way. When they found out what had happened in the wizarding world before they entered it, my therapist talked to the Headmistress, who introduced her to Hermione, and they devised a program to combine magical healing with psychotherapy. Obviously, I was their first guinea pig, because why wouldn’t I, right?”. Harry laughed at his own joke and Draco gave him a supportive smile. “Anyway, it’s been three years. It helps but it goes slowly”.

Draco nodded, projecting more understanding than he really was capable of. He had read about therapists. Had heard the word in pop songs and seen them in movies. But he knew close to nothing about psychotherapy and it never occurred to him he might need it. Up until Harry spoke again:

“She was appalled by the war and the fact that most of the people involved in the last decisive battle were basically children like me and you. She still can’t come to terms with the fact that I died and came back to life, and…”

“I am sorry, Potter, what?!”

Harry was caught by surprise. That made Draco realise that information was probably public domain and pretty much old news, which failed to soften the blow.

“You… I thought your mother would have told you. She was there and she lied for me so I could kill Voldemort. I explained it at her trial, I thought…”

“Well Potter, I wasn’t there. The Wizengamot considered that, while I was old enough to be treated as an adult before the law, I was too young to attend my own mother’s trial”.

Draco tried to keep his voice calm, but he was trembling, and steam started to rise again from the cold  teacup he was nursing. Harry managed to babble an apology before being interrupted with Draco’s distressed, non-believing words.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Nobody told me! And they don’t let me get the Prophet, I get a curated selection of articles where every reference about the war is redacted! I had no idea you died!”.

“But, why does it matter so much to you?!”

“Because!”, bellowed Draco right before the teacup exploded. He was breathing heavily, cheeks aflame, and made no motion to clean the mess up, nor any sign of feeling the burnt of the boiling water. 

It took a beat for Harry to react and vanish the spill and the shattered china shards. He stood up from his seat and went to kneel in front of Draco, to level his line of sight. With his hands half risen and palms facing outwards he gave Draco an inquisitive look before touching his forearms and thighs, spreading a cooling, healing charm wandlessly and wordlessly. A show of power Draco barely registered, too busy trying to even his breathing. 

“Are you alright?”, asked Harry softly after a while. Draco nodded. “Why were you so upset, Malfoy?”.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t”, he insisted at Harry’s skeptical look. 

“Okay then. I think the clocks already struck five, so it’s time for me to go. Will you be okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course Potter. I’ll be fine, don’t you worry”, said Draco, spreading politeness and deference over his words. “Plus, it is Halloween. There must be a party somewhere waiting for you”.

“Actually I told everyone I had a cold”, he admitted, winking mischievously. “I just wanted to spend a quiet night without much ado”. Draco smiled, understanding even though solitude was his everyday life. “I guess I’ll go now. Don’t break any more Malfoy heirlooms while I’m gone”. 

Draco nodded him goodbye and closed his eyes, focusing on Harry’s steps on the carpet, the beating of his own heart, the swept of the robes being lifted from the chair where they had been resting, more steps, his heart accelerating. 

“Potter!”, he said. And it sounded first year Malfoy in the Great Hall, third year Malfoy across the grounds of Hogwarts, sixth year Malfoy in the second floor girl’s bathroom.

The sound of steps reaching a halt and feet turning around, robes swishing. 

“Yes?”, asked Potter. It sounded like anything Draco had heard before. 

“Can you stay?”

[mattskeebah]

PLEASE READ

I know how much y’all hate “your fave is problematic” posts...but it’s necessary.

Summary: Matt Skiba, singer of the band Alkaline Trio and member of Blink-182, has nazi tattoos, is a fan of nazi bands, made tasteless nazi related paintings, is best friends with Boyd Rice, and in fact, owns nazi insignia. Matt claims to be a feminist but likes countless scantily clad pics of young models and sex workers and follows actual porn actresses on IG. Also, he never distanced himself from Asia Argento and still sells t-shirts with her face on them in his webstore. Matt supports the police and the military and he has a weird gun fetish. He attacked fans who criticized his behavior and his problematic associations.

---

WHY I STOPPED BEING A FAN OF MATT SKIBA

He supports the police as an instutition, specifically Chicago PD. He made a post on Instagram in favor of CPD which ofc received backlash from fans but he ignored the negative comments and brushed it off as “there are bad people in every profession” and then he deleted the post. Thanks to a Tumblr user who screencapped it: [x] please notice the tiny blue (lives matters) heart. Also, here are some “cute” pics of him wearing police-related stuff [x] [x] and check out this post of him “repping” new CPD merch on his car [x] (he disabled the comments).

He supports the military, which might be because his parents served in the Vietnam war, but that doesn’t make it less shitty. Examples for his military-support can be found all over his Instagram. [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] and so on... and in this post he’s delighted that a soldier in Afghanistan is wearing an Alkaline Trio patch. [x]

He’s close friends with Asia Argento / or had possible romantic relationship with her and he still sells t-shirts with her face on them in his merch shop. For those of you who don’t know her, she was one of the leaders of the #metoo movement but then it was revealed that she herself had sex with an intoxicated 17-year-old (!) and her bf Anthony Bourdain gave the boy money so he would keep his mouth shut about the incident, ((later Bourdain committed suicide))

Story of a fan who gave Matt a letter criticizing him for being friends with Argento, and the same night he posted a picture of her on IG (I think it was this post)… which seems like a subtle F*CK YOU at the person who gave him the letter. (he can’t take criticism, can he?)

His IG activity is .. something else. Matt’s major interests are motorbikes, cars, and young, attractive, half-naked models and strippers. One of his recent likes (nudity and bruises cw) [x] [x] [x] [x]….that one is an actual porn actress he follows and thirsts over: (more nudity cw) [x] he commented ‘cool butt momma. miss you xoxo’ [x] [x] (liked)…and my “personal fave” a picture with a sex worker [x] he deleted the picture ofc

HE LOVES GUNS (+said that he would use them) he has quite a big gun collection: SIG SAUERs, a Morning Star, many knifes, a shotgun, a Desert Eagle gun, a samurai sword, a faux snakeskin baton, and more stuff I can’t remember, he posted his collection on November 5th 2018 on IG, but unfortunately I didn’t take a screenshot!! but he posted them individually on IG. [x] [x] [x] [x] etc. and a recently deleted pic at the shooting range [x] ……also this pic exists.. edgelord (tw gun to the head).

In the comments of the same post (I swear on my life it’s real, you have to trust me) a user commented that he’s a Trump supporter but he would still defend Matt, even if he’s “politically left”. Matt’s answer: “I would defend you too, my man!”. o k a y. then Matt said he identifies as “quite a bit left” o K AY. MATT. Just so btw. the user also had a name including “88″ ( is a code phrase commonly used in fascist circles for “Heil Hitler”) or he just meant the year 88. but I saw some racist “memes” on his IG too.

Matt has a weird obsession with WW2. He literally watched a holocaust docu on HIS FUCKING BDAY (or at least he posted about it) and he said he collects WW2 books. Theoretically, nothing wrong with being interested in history, but in the context of everything… bad vibes……….

He really loves Nordic/Scandinavian-related stuff, like jewelry of the Hammer of Thor etc and he even uses MS runes for his merch. Runes are popular among occultists but they also have a really problematic history concerning WW2 and the nazis. Considering one of his most favorite bands Death in June mentions runes in their lyrics and they are a REALLY REALLY questionable band flirting with nazi imagery and being openly affiliated with fascist and far-right satanists, I have every right to question Matt’s intentions.

He literally has a crutch cross tattoo on his chest (which was used as the symbol of Austro-Fascism, and is also the logo of the neo folk - nazi band Blood Axis) PHOTO 1, PHOTO 2 and an EDELWEISS tattoo [x], which is the national flower of Austria and is considered a magical flower in occult circles. Nothing wrong with having a flower tattoo but it was used a lot in the context of nationalsocialism and “traditional values”. To add, it was also used as a symbol of the 1st Mountain division “Gebirgsjäger” in WW2 (Hitler’s elite formation of the Wehrmacht who were involved in large scale war crimes). 

Matt OWNS NAZI INSIGNIA. He is wearing a WW2 Edelweiss patch in this pic [x] and here [x] combined with a crutch cross patch (Alk3 used an iron cross backdrop at their concerts 2014ish and a crutch cross symbol on their guitar picks btw.)

He owns several Death In June patches, their merch [x] [x] [x] [x] etc. and other patches and buttons featuring nazi-related symbols. [DIJ WIKI]. He is also friends with their singer. Matt’s a huge DIJ fan, attended their concerts [x] and Douglas P. reads the intro of the Alkaline Trio song “I Found Away”. DIJ uses fascist symbols and “aesthetics” for the band, including an SS Totenkopf logo.

Matt painted the same logo and exhibited it at an art show [x]

HE LITERALLY DID PAINTINGS REFERENCING DOLLFUSS AND MUSSOLINI and another piece of “art” called “surf nazis” [x] what the actual f   u    c  k .. and here he is with his painting of Mickey Mouse as Hitler [x]

HE IS BEST FRIENDS with Boyd Rice, (here’s a picture of them holding Wolfsangels, a nazi symbol) they are REALLY CLOSE. According to Rice’s IG they meet every week and hang out and Rice considers Matt “family”… the entire Boyd Rice shit can be read in this post (important please read). Matt even attacked fans that were calling him out and called them stupid.

The first liked video on his Youtube channel is a video about neo-nazi biker gangs in Germany....... [x]

He is friends with Kat von D, she did a few of his tattoos and she appeared in the Alk3 video “Help Me”.

He collabed with Jeffree Star on a violent song [x]

He was at an art show of a friend who used nazi symbols (!)

posts like these [x] [x]

In this interview [x] he’s pretty much romanticizing that people got stabbed back then at concerts and that there was a big skinhead scene (he wasn’t “stoked” about the violence happening BUT “the energy surrounding” was “very ATTRACTIVE” to him. Make of that what you will.)

When he was a sophomore in HS (and on acid) he beat up a classmate who threw a U.S. flag on the floor. [x]

Matt made a racist remark a few years ago about Chinese people [x] and according to him //or he’s joking// he has a tattoo on his dick that says “welcome to Jamaica” which can be interpreted as racist.

Many of the movies he praises blatantly depict violence against women, like Blue Velvet, Funny Games, A Clockwork Orange (it has almost 3 rape scenes in the first 15 minutes), lyrics like “Radio” can be seen as misogynist, he literally wishes that his ex-GF (/or someone’s ex-gf) should take a bath with a radio and get electrocuted.

A person on IG commented that his ex-girlfriend accused him of domestic violence, I have no proof for that but he deleted the comments ofc and then a few days later he donated money to a women’s shelter in LA… which seems like he’s trying to avoid a shitstorm…

He compared L.A. women to zoo animals in this interview [x].

He cheated on his ex-gf(s) which I think should go on this list too.

Matt used to be a member of the Church of Satan, just leaving this here. you can argue if it’s good or bad but there seems to be a connection between satanists and neo-nazis .. sadly.

He listed the song* “Los Angeles” by X among his faves in this interview [x] (*edit: Someone has reached out to me and explained that the song was not racist, antisemitic or anything but from the *perspective* of a racist. However, we don't know Matt's reason for liking the song and considering his WW2 fetish, it's sketchy that he would consider the song as one of his favorites. Maybe he likes it because the song openly says things out loud under the veil of "sarcasm" that would be criticized under different circumstances. See also: [Oscar Wild was right.] Matt still listened to the band in 2014 and was at a concert of them [x], even months after their singer spew right-wing conspiracy theories concerning (school) shootings.

THIS FUCKING PICTURE OF HIM WITH A CHARLES MANSON DOLL AND A SW*STIKA. He still had the doll in other pictures [x] [x].

This picture I found on a fansite. It’s supposed to be Matt as a child.. where does that even come from and why is he wearing a military hat with something that vaguely looks like an eagle (?)

I can’t be the only one who noticed that but Matt had a vaguely ~nazi haircut thoughout the years and even some sort of nazi / white power aesthetic~ going on, even fans recognized it as such [x] [x] [x] and in the context of him hanging out with Boyd Rice like this in this picture [x] it’s safe to say he was EXACTLY GOING FOR THAT LOOK.

When he was in Germany during the Blink-182 tour 2017 he proudly posed at a famous Third Reich location in the Alps. Yk. nothing wrong with visiting historical locations but in the context of everything mentioned in this post. IT LOOKS REALLY BAD.

…probably more.. this man is a walking disaster

- - -

In this post I listed a lot, there are probably some things you would consider “minor” because they happened years ago but I thought I’d mention them anyway. Also, I’m not saying he has those beliefs but he definitely doesn’t distance himself from nazi(-sympathizing) scum like Boyd Rice and keeps being BFFs with him. And what’s up with the problematic tattoos and WWII insignia? I can’t be the only one who thinks this is not okay!!!

Thanks for reading.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 52

Tom and I were able to spend just over two weeks together alone with Henry, and we’d quickly become a well-oiled machine. It was seamless, really…which made me wonder how I was going to function when he left on March 1st for Kong promo. I cried, and so did Tom as he was leaving, a puzzled Henry in my arms looking back and forth between us during our final hug goodbye. He’d be returning to London on the 13th, and I made sure to cross every single day off on the calendar before I ate breakfast because nothing makes you lose track of time more than when you’re caring for an infant while thoroughly sleep deprived and missing your partner so badly it actually aches.

All in all I thought I was handling things well, though there were days when breakfast was the only real meal I ate and showering was such a rare and special treat that if I actually took one two days in a row I almost felt guilty. There was one day I managed to shower and eat three meals within a 24-hour period and man, I felt like I’d conquered the Kingdom of Domesticity, lemme tell ya. Alongside the chaos and the exhaustion, though, there were countless moments of joy and discovery as Henry and I got to know each other as separate entities. I’d already begun naming objects during playtime and while flipping through picture books, and, honestly, I blathered on with such constancy that I figured the first discernible sound he’d make would be ‘shh’. Every night we’d sit together in the nursery room rocker and I’d read to him, mostly rudimentary level children’s stories. Skippyjon Jones always seemed to get him amped up the most, his little arms waving as I voiced each character accordingly, sometimes to the point where I’d be laughing too hard to continue. And, of course, I sang. I sang when he was fussy, which wasn’t often, I sang when I changed his diapers, I sang during bath time, I sang when he nursed, and I sang as I rocked him to sleep. Actual songs, songs I made up on the fly, lullabies, humming classical tunes…he appeared to enjoy it, and the day before Tom was due home he flashed me a great big gummy smile from his bouncy seat when I added dancing to my rendition of Melanie’s ‘Brand New Key’. Despite all official guidance suggesting babies were only capable of smiling reflexively until they were nearly at the the two-month-old mark or later, Henry’s was genuine. I know this because I spent a good portion of that particular day testing my theory, and every time I sang that damn song and danced like a fool, there it was. I thought about Skyping Tom in order to share my super-scientific findings, but decided it was only one more day until he’d be able to see it in person…also, I was dying to see what would happen if he sang it and danced as well.

Tom’s flight was scheduled to land at six PM, which meant he’d probably be rolling in around seven-thirty at the earliest. Henry typically nursed every two or three hours, sleeping in between at nighttime and napping here and there during the day. That evening I’d tucked him in at six-thirty and turned on the baby monitor, fully intending to squeeze in a snack and a shower before Tom got home, but then I made the grievous error of sitting down in the rocker for a brief spell just to make sure that Henry was really and truly out before I left the room, because I’d learned the hard way that sometimes he’d pop awake. Nothing like having shampoo in your hair when your kiddo starts crying in the adjoining room, you know?

I must have dozed off immediately, because the next thing I knew I was dreaming that Tom was saying my name, and the dream was so vivid that I could actually feel his hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. Dream me tipped her head to the left to nuzzle dream Tom’s hand, and when the fingers of the hand grasped the back of my neck and the thumb stroked the magic spot behind my ear I inhaled sharply, catching his scent as I did so. My eyes flew open, and there he was, sitting on the ottoman in front of me. I reached up to grab his wrist, finding it warm to the touch which reassured me that I hadn’t lost my damn mind. A long, deep, delighted sigh from me broke the silence.

“You’re real. You’re back. I missed you. So, so much. I thought I was dreaming, you know, but there you fucking are and…”

He cut me off with a kiss, his tongue parting my lips and thrusting into my mouth in order to tousle with mine. We hadn’t been intimate since before Henry was born, given that I was technically on the disabled list until after my six-week checkup. It hadn’t been an issue for me, really, because I’d still been bleeding rather heavily right up until the day after Tom left. The bleeding had ceased completely by the 5th, but prior to this scenario I hadn’t even felt a tingle of desire since giving birth. Nothing. Nada. Deadsville. With a combination his scent and a smooch it was resurrected, back from the beyond, good to go, and ready to rock times infinity. I reciprocated, first sucking on his tongue, then his lip, then continued to devour him until we had to break to breathe. He stared into my eyes, dazed and panting, his left hand slipping under the bottom of my robe and up my thigh, coming to rest between my legs, a throaty ‘oh’ escaping him as his fingers brushed my panties and he realized I wasn’t wearing a pad. When I propelled my hips forward against his hand he groaned, then began to rub my mound, circling slowly. As the cotton grew damp, his eyes rolled back into his head briefly, then focused on me again…they were impossibly full of want, and I bit my lip. He shook his head, dutifully trying to clear it and pull himself back from the brink.

“Maude. I’m so sorry. I know perfectly well that you can’t…I have no idea what I was thinking.”

I exhaled through pursed lips, my chest heaving. “I’m fine. Wait, that’s not what I meant to say. What I meant to say is that I am on fucking fire…”

He whined, a low and thoroughly devastating sound. “May I…I…taste you? Make you come? Please? I can smell you and it’s…I…I can’t…I need to…”

I lifted my hips off the seat to signal that fuck yeah, yes you can, get these things off me but it turned out that wasn’t necessary because he ripped my underwear clean off as if the fabric was a piece of ancient, crumbling parchment. He slid off the ottoman and down onto his knees, lifting my legs in the process.

“Feet. Shoulders. Now. Please.”

It was then that I remembered that hello, a baby recently popped out of there and your husband hasn’t seen this part of you at close range since then and what if it’s different and/or totally unappealing? I hesitated, and he nipped the inside of my right thigh before placing my feet where he wanted them on his own, then dove right in, licking a stripe from my asshole up to my clit, then back down and up again and again, finally taking the nub between his teeth to shake it gently before closing his mouth around it and sucking rhythmically. I had to slap my hand over my own mouth to keep from screaming as I humped his face until I came. He kept going, reducing his suction just enough to leave me on the edge, and I felt the tip of his finger at my entrance. Still not ceasing his ministrations, he peered up at me and I nodded. In it went, inching its way up to my G-spot. He stroked back and forth, round and round, until I began to swivel my hips in the opposite direction. After adding a second digit he began to slide them in and out ever-so-slowly, gradually increasing the speed until the sliding became thrusting, and as I felt another orgasm was imminent I covered the hand already over my mouth with my other one, just in case.

My muffled screams were accompanied by his moans, almost entirely suppressed by my flesh. He stopped sucking completely, instead navigating every fold and crevice with his tongue and waiting for me to apply pressure to his forehead before he pulled his fingers out and his head away. He shifted and lowered my legs back to a resting position in order to rise up so he was vertical, though still on his knees. The sight of his face slick and glossy, eyes narrowed as he inhaled and exhaled rapidly through his nose was so intensely arousing that I leaned forward, grabbed him by his white T-shirt and pulled him in for another kiss…a sloppy, noisy wet one that assured me that if nothing else, my flavor hadn’t changed whatsoever. The rocker began pitching forward and back with more force that it had while he was eating me out, and the cause, I established, was Tom humping the seat cushion. I reached between us and began to unbutton and unzip his jeans, but he stopped me in my tracks, fingers wrapping around my wrists and shifting them to the side as he cut short our kiss, shaking his head back and forth as he moved away.

I growled, then frowned, ready to question his behavior until he stood and held out his hand to help me up. Without a word, he led me through the adjoining doorway and to our bed, stripping naked in a flash and gesturing for me to do the same. Again, I hesitated. He’d seen my boobs plenty of times before he’d left to do promo, but other than a glance after a shower or something similar he hadn’t seen me in all my post-partum glory as yet. I had, though, and while I’d thought all along that I looked pretty damn good, somehow standing in front of this gorgeous being resulted in my confidence bubble deflating like a balloon that’s not successfully knotted. Squeak pffffttt, there it goes. He stepped forward and undid the belt tie at my waist, then slipped his arms around me inside the fabric and pulled me against his warmth, hard cock pressing into my belly, and as he ground it against me his unspoken message came through loud and clear…that was because of me, and for me. And one should never pass when offered cock, should one? Hell no. I shrugged off the robe and let it fall to the floor, and he stepped back to look me over as he licked his lips, took both my hands in his own, squeezed, then released them to gesture for me to lie down on the mattress. I obliged, glancing at the monitor station on the night table along the way to make sure Henry was still sleeping. And, you know…still there in his crib and breathing, because that’s apparently a side effect of becoming a parent, frequent intervals of sheer terror followed by obsessive observance.

Tom placed first one knee, then the other on the foot of the bed as his hands nudged my legs apart, pressing outward on the inner portion of my knees until there was enough room for him to crawl in between them. He knelt there, staring at me, until I sat up, reaching forward to take him in hand. He gasped at my touch, his arms lifting, hands coming to rest on my shoulders.

“Ohhhh…Mauuuddee…” He continued to moan as I stroked him, and though my intent had been to finish the job I couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when he was inside me, and how long it had been since we’d been able to fuck face-to-face, and how much I missed witnessing the way his head fell back and his neck tensed so gloriously when he came. First my rhythm faltered, then I released his cock and lowered myself back onto the bed, leaving him with the options of joining me or letting go of my shoulders and staying where he was. He leaned forward with me, still holding on until his knuckles scraped the mattress, wherein he loosened his grip and positioned his hands on the bed to either side of my head.

He remained on all fours, both of us staring at each other, until I wrapped my legs around his waist and attempted to pull him downward. The gesture was met with resistance, and after a short pause to consider how to proceed, I spoke. Three words, our gazes locked, the sound breathy, the tone pleading.

“I want you.”

A tiny smile from him, then the corners of his mouth tipping downward in a frown of concern. “And I want you. So badly. I’m desperate for it, the feel of you all around me. Are you certain…is this…is it alright?”

I reached up and around him to clasp my hands behind his shoulders. “Only one way to find out for sure. You willing to give it a try?”

He groaned, biting his lip, his body already beginning to gravitate downward toward mine. “You’ll tell me straight away if I’m hurting you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Balancing himself on one hand, he used the other to line himself up and nudge the head of his cock against my opening. His eyes never left mine as he worked himself inside at a snail’s pace, ever-so gently, and the shade of red his face had turned served to me as an indicator that the anticipation might actually be killing him so I canted my hips upward in order to speed up the process. He gasped, his own hips reflexively driving him forward in reaction to my action, and with one more thrust from me he was finally fully sheathed.

“Oh. Maude. Oh. OH.” He blinked and shook his head, the hand that had been guiding him into me returning to the mattress just above my shoulder, his lower belly now resting against mine. “You’re okay? Any pain? Discomfort? Just say the word…”

“I have two words. Fuck, and me. Fuck me. Please. Now. Tom. My god.”

He grinned. “Am I?”

“Are you what?”

“You said ‘Tom, my god’.”

I raked my nails down his back. “Yes, Tom. You’re my god. Now, I pray, wield thy rod and deliver us to the promised land.”

Snorting, he began to circle his hips. “Oh, that was awful.”

Smirking, I lowered my arms back to my sides, then reached up to tweak his nipples. “Oh, I know. But still…the rod. Wield it. I need it.”

He moved in and out, still circling, my own hips moving in time with his thrusts. As our tempo increased everything else around us grew hazy, the lines of objects blurring until all I could see clearly was his face, his shoulders, his chest…and there was indeed no pain, no discomfort, the only possible difference from before being that I was slightly more aware, more sensitive, but that was easily attributable to it having been so damn long since we’d been in this position and as far as I was concerned missionary had never, ever been so fucking heavenly. I’d wondered if I’d still be able to squeeze, and was relived when I gave it a go and Tom screeched like a banshee, then began pounding into me, harder and harder until I came with him doing the same seconds afterward. As his hips continued to twitch I locked my legs around his waist by way of my ankles and rode his still-hard cock until I came again, then again, chanting his name the entire time. He collapsed on top of me, face nuzzling my neck, nibbling here and there as I rubbed his back. He shifted so he could see me, his smile beatific.

“Hi.”

I smiled in return. “Hi.”

His left eyebrow rose. “Everything all right?”

“Everything is spectacular, thank you.” My once again confidence faded, as did my smile, when I wondered what his experience had been, post birth. “How did it…you know…was it…for you…was it…different, or anything?”

“Yes. It was different.” He leaned in to touch his forehead to mine. “Because I’ve come to love you even more than ever before. Which I would have thought impossible, yet, it’s…happened. What I witnessed in that room, Maude…using this body, your body, you performed a miracle right before my eyes…you endured and persevered and brought forth life, the embodiment of our physical and ethereal union…and the fact that you find me worthy of giving, receiving and sharing pleasure with you in this way, experiencing the divinity of your flesh…I just…I…”

In lieu of weeping, I opted for sarcasm. “So, the sex was okay, then?” He chuckled, and I giggled, and when the chuckle transitioned into full on laughter the force of it shifted him to the side a smidge, at which point I noticed wetness between us where it decidedly did not belong. “Shit, sorry babe…it would appear the divine flesh has sprung a leak. It’s baptism by breastmilk for you, my dude. Wow, the religious references just keep on coming today. Pretty sure I just heard Anne clucking her tongue at me all the way from California.”

Tom grunted, grinding against me. “All I heard was ‘coming’ and ‘tongue’.”

As his lips met mine we were interrupted by the sound of Henry whimpering, which caused my boobs to leak even more. Tom’s torso lifted off of me, and I placed my palms on his chest. “Alas, play time is over for now, good sir. Tiny human requires a snack.”

He pulled out and knee-walked backward to the foot of the bed, then stood. “Would you like me to bring him in here for you?”

I shook my head as I got up, then bent to grab my robe off the floor. “Nope. There’s no way I’m missing the expression on his face when he sees you.”

After I slipped my arms into the robe, Tom handed me the T-shirt he’d been wearing so I could clean up. “Here you are, my love. I’m going to grab a pair of shorts…can you wait for me?”  

Nodding, I did a brisk mop-job, dropped the T-shirt back onto the floor, then tied the belt loosely in place. We held hands as we walked to the nursery, but I fell back and let go once we we entered in order to allow Tom to lead the way. Henry’s whimpering had evolved into what I liked to call the Universal Baby Siren Wail, and as Tom first approached then leaned into the crib, I hustled to find a vantage point from where I’d have the best view of both of them. Tom reached down to move the Pooh quilt aside, then rested his hand on Henry’s torso.

“Hey now, baby boy. It’s all right. We’re here.” He slipped his other hand underneath Henry to support his head, then shifted the hand that had been on his torso under his bum, lifting and holding him out directly in front of him, then turning him sideways to cradle him against his upper chest. “Shh, shh, we’re here.”

Henry quieted immediately, eyes un-squinching, then opening widely as he fully realized that someone other than the food-giver was holding him. Tom’s megawatt smile broke out across his face, and when Henry smiled in return I damn near died right then and there. Tom’s mouth dropped open, his head turning toward me so fast that whiplash was an actual concern.

“Maude, he smiled. Did you see? He smiled at me. I mean, I think he smiled at me. Perhaps it’s just gas or…”

“Oh, it’s not gas. He smiles. And he totally just smiled at you, the little bugger.” I moved closer to my dudes and slipped my arm around Tom’s waist. “It started yesterday, but he only does it for me when I put on a show for him.” It had crossed my mind to keep that bit of info to myself because I didn’t want him to feel as if he’d missed out on something, but I knew there would without a doubt be firsts either he or I would miss along the way,  because children develop at such a rapid pace all you have to do is be looking in the wrong direction for a second and that’s that. It initially appeared that Tom seemed thoroughly unaffected by my statement, however, and returned his focus to Henry.

“Henry, that was quite a spectacular smile. It’s made Daddy feel very, very special. Thank you. I missed you so much while I was gone, and I want to keep you all to myself but I know you’re hungry, so here’s Mamma, all right?” He passed him to me, and I headed over to the rocker, pausing before I sat down when I felt Tom’s hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at him, and he smiled bashfully as he spoke.

“Would you mind if I sat with you? Or if there’s not enough space would you consider sitting on my lap while you nurse him? I…I’d like to be close to both of you.”

I smiled back. “Sitting on your lap sounds like perfection. Park that pretty ass, Tom.”

He complied, and I lowered myself carefully into place, resting semi-sideways. He wrapped his right arm around me to serve as support, his hand grasping my hip, fingers splayed. We remained silent until I’d burped Henry for the second time and Tom began to rock us all forward and back slowly. He spoke, voice hushed so Henry’s attempting to doze off wouldn’t be disturbed.

“I knew it was possible…likely, even…that certain milestones in his development might occur in my absence. And I’m aware that such moments are fleeting, even if I happen to be nearby. But having it actually happen the first time out of the gate…well…we’ve yet to discuss it, though I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit, and I don’t know how much consideration you’ve given to it, if any, because lord knows you’ve been busy here on the frontlines all alone, but...where do you see us, going forward, in regard to our occupational statuses?”

While I hadn’t committed to anything, my plan while pregnant had been to take twelve weeks off, then return to work at Prosper at least three days a week and continue to be the Great and Powerful OZ behind the curtain for Manageall. But those weeks, man, they were whipping by at warp speed. The few instances so far wherein I’d needed to handle urgent business issues despite being on leave had been atypically stressful, and that had given me pause, though I was onto the next task at hand so rapidly there was no thorough evaluation as to whether or not I wanted to proceed as planned or rework it all lock, stock and barrel. I shook my head.

“I thought I had the answer for that…there was a plan, you know? But honestly, Tom…now…I’m kind of questioning, like, everything. Which I did not expect.” Glancing down at the beautiful, now soundly sleeping, being in my arms, I shifted my legs forward, then stood. “Welp, someone’s out cold. Let’s tuck him in and adjourn to the bedroom once again so we can speak at normal people volume. Before you comment, let me rephrase – normal Maude volume.”

He chuckled, and both of us whispered our good-nights to Henry, then returned to our marital bed, this time remaining mostly vertical instead of horizontal. We sat, side by side, each waiting for the other to start until I elbowed Tom in the ribs.

“You’re the one who mentioned it, so it only seems fair that you should go first.” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, and I reached out and grabbed his knee. “Thomas. I understand. It’s all good. You’re my partner, I love you, and I’ll support whatever choice you decide to make.”

He placed his hand atop mine. “God, how I love you. Thank you for that. All right. Out with it. Here’s what I’m thinking…for the remainder of this year, I’ve got Early Man to finish up, a very short shoot for the next two Avengers films, then Ragnarok promo. All the Early Man stuff will take place in a studio within driving distance, so while I’ll be working, I won’t have to be out of town. Avengers won’t take more than a few days, but Ragnarok promo…that’s another story, and though it’s unavoidable, it’s not until late fall so there’s a nice span of time during which I’ll be able to remain in London. Early next year I’ll have Early Man promo, then Avengers promo, and since the format of the Vampire Chronicles has been switched from a cinematic release to a streaming series filming has been pushed back until 2019 at the earliest. So, my schedule for the foreseeable future is relatively clear. And…other than possibly entertaining a London-only stage production…I’d like to keep it that way. I want to spend every moment I can here, at home, with you and Henry, until he’s old enough to travel easily. Though honestly, I’m not even sure about that anymore. There are several aspects other than my personal preference to be considered, however. How will this affect us financially? How will this impact my career? And finally, how does this fit with your line of thinking, if at all?”

“Let’s address my line of thinking, then the rest, because it’s all relative. I like working. I can’t see myself not doing some sort of work. And I think you’re the same with your work, with acting. It’s a significant component of who you are, at your core. For me, while I’m really, really good at PR, if I do say so myself…” He snorted, and I shrugged. “Like Peggy Carter says, I know my value. Anyway. I’m skilled at it,  but it’s not my passion. It’s never been. Coding and design…those are my passions. PR is just…work. Bear in mind that if Manageall had never happened I would not be considering this, but…I don’t see myself returning to Prosper other than as an outside consultant. The staff has become well-versed in how to handle social media and instructing clients, which renders me non-essential in that realm. Where I can be of benefit is on the front lines…however, that position is very taxing from an emotional standpoint…and, let’s face it, the entire industry is kind of soul-sucking. I could handle it, before…no problemo, dude. But now that we have a kiddo, I feel compelled to reserve as much of myself for him as I possibly can. And, bottom line from a purely financial standpoint, my earning potential when working at coding and designing is far greater than in the PR world. It’s work that offers nearly complete flexibility in regard to time and location. I want to begin to pursue…slowly… developing and improving Manageall. I want to see how far it can go, and, eventually, I want to explore other projects. Mainly apps. Apps. I want to create and design apps. Wow, that’s quite the revelation right there, and fuck, I really feel like a ginormous turd for essentially bailing on Luke for the most part, but I have to be honest with myself and honest with you and the truth is…the thing that’s most important to me right now and probably will be forever or at least until he’s an adult with a life and stuff but then, grandbabies…fuck me, that’s nuts…anyway…the most important thing is Tom and Maude and Henry being…together. Long story short, we’re in excellent financial shape and could live a perfectly lovely life if neither of us ever worked again, you know that, I know that, and I’m incredibly grateful for that, and time is the enemy, and after all we’ve been through, why the fuck not step back a bit so we can enjoy our son, and each other? Oh, your career. Forgot that part. Will there be an impact? Yes. Will you be able to jump back in at full speed whenever you want? Technically, yes, though it may take a little time if you’re way off the public radar. Is there any guarantee that you’ll ever enjoy the level of notoriety you have right now? No. Will that impact your earning potential? Entirely possible. How does that make you feel? How does everything else contained the verbal version of explosive diarrhea that you just listened to me spew make you feel, other than wicked sorry you asked for my opinion?”

He snorted. “I asked, and I received…not at all sorry. Exhausted, perhaps, but not sorry.” Sobering, he stared down at the floor for a moment, then looked up and turned his head toward me. “I came across an article a few years back…a list of the biggest regrets expressed by patients in hospice. At the top were working too much, and not spending more time with family. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, now…we all have two lives. The second one starts when we realize that we only have one. Throughout that one, our priorities change as we live, love, and grow, but the constant is time. The sand is flowing ever-downward through the hourglass and there’s no stopping it. Time is, as you just said, is the enemy. At the end of my time on this plane of existence I don’t want to find myself staring in the rearview at the life behind me with words of regret upon my lips. I want to be replaying all the moments of beauty and joy I experienced with the people I loved, finding peace in knowing that even if I were able, I wouldn’t change a blessed thing. The path to that is clear…Tom and Maude and Henry being together, as often as humanly possible.”

He paused, and just as I was about to wrap my arms around him, he smirked, then grinned mischievously. I cocked my head to the side, left eyebrow raised. “You’re totally thinking about that first day on the beach when you said you wanted to know me and I said biblically and you said…”

“…as often as humanly possible. Yes, Maude, yes I am. That was quite a day, was it not?”

I nodded. “That it was. Mind-blowingly strange and spectacular. And though there’ve been so many ‘best day evers’ since…without that one, none of them would have happened. Thus, I’m inclined to delegate it as the most important best day ever.”

He reached for me, the sides of his hands resting on my collarbones as his fingers stroked my neck and his thumbs brushed my jawline and cheeks. “I concur, my light in the mist.” He kissed me, feather-light at first, then firmer, finally sucking my lower lip into his mouth and doing the thing…with the result exactly as expected.

My thighs were still clenching as I spoke. “Thomas William Hiddleston…first of all, how dare you. Second of all…HOW DARE YOU?!”

He laughed loudly, releasing me to raise his hands up as if he were praising the god of his choice, then rotating his wrists and turning his palms skyward. “Still makes me feel like a fucking rock star.”

I reached out to pinch his nipples. “As a reward, the rock star will be given the honor of changing the next diaper. If he can handle it.”

Nodding, he wrapped his arms around me and began pushing me backward onto the bed. “He can. But he’s going to handle you first, if you can, you know…handle him handling you. Again.”

“She can handle him handling her again a few times, probably.” With that, Henry began crying again, and we both rose quickly to our feet. I poked his bicep. “I regret to inform you that there’s been a sudden but not entirely unexpected modification to the handling schedule. You’re needed at the north stage immediately, Rock Star. The woman will have to wait her turn.”

He linked his arm with mine as we walked though the bedroom door and into the nursery. “Well, I hope she won’t mind too much.”

I shook my head. “She won’t. You’re worth it.”

He kissed my cheek as we reached Henry’s crib. “So are you, my Maude. So are you.”

After Tom fulfilled his doody duties, which I figured would be the case because Henry typically didn’t wake up when he was only wet, I stood back and observed, attempting to absorb and retain even the most minute details of his interaction with our son. Kissing his little feet one at a time before placing them back into his footie sleeper, carefully closing the snaps, bending down to hold him against his chest as he lifted him from the changing table, breathing him in as he re-positioned him so his head rested upon his left shoulder. And then, he began to sing. So softly I couldn’t quite make out the words, but I knew the tune. And so I stepped forward to stand before him, and the words became clear.

I feel my heart beating I feel my heart beneath my skin Oh, I can feel my heart beating 'Cause you make me feel Like I'm alive again Alive again Oh, you make me feel Like I'm alive again

Turn your magic on, to me she'd say Everything you want's a dream away Under this pressure, under this weight We are diamonds taking shape We are diamonds taking shape

I joined in after that verse, somehow managing to not dissolve in a puddle of tears after hearing my husband remixing our wedding song into a lullaby for our son.

If we've only got this life This adventure oh then I If we've only got this life You'll get me through, oh If we've only got this life And this adventure, oh then I Wanna share it with you With you, with you

As we finished, I found myself transfixed by the sight of Tom’s body rocking gently from side to side, and his fingers drawing small circles on the back of Henry’s sleeper. It was soft, 100% cotton, white with purple horizontal stripes and a powerful sense of deja vu overwhelmed me, though it escalated beyond ‘I’ve been here before’ quickly and transformed into glimpse of the future, similar to the dream I’d had immediately prior to waking up on the day of our public wedding ceremony…Tom and I, three children, brief instances throughout time, the moments occurring in various places, with one thing in common…all of us, together. A vision of myself, looking downward at hands that were starting to wrinkle, holding the sleeper Henry was wearing in the here and now, then passing it to someone, into the hands of a younger man, his face blurry, but his hair very clearly black, and I could hear voices around me speaking, Tom’s being the only one I recognized. Though I wasn’t able to make out the words, I could feel the joy emanating from everyone around me, and from within me. A vignette that, whether it turned out to be real or imaginary, imparted upon me a sense of finality. Not an ending, just a bookmark in the story of my life’s adventure for this year, this day, and this hour, when I could see the purpose of the past and the promise of the future and recognize that I was precisely exactly where I was always meant to be. Tom quietly asking if I was all right snapped me back to the present, and I looked up to see those blue eyes gazing back at me, eyes in which I’d seen darkness and light and everything in between, eyes that were indeed a mirror, a reflection of the soul housed within that had called to mine so strongly, so loudly, across time and space, until, finally, the hand of the universe had been forced to relent and bring us together. I grinned, nodding in the affirmative, my answer a single whispered word.

“Absofuckingloutely.”

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

Separation Anxiety - The Twins

A/N: For my mob AU which was inspired by the ever lovely @borhap-socials posts. Imagine the Twins however you’d like physically. Thank you to my PSM @mollymarymarie for proof-reading and being the inspiration for this. I am going to miss you so much on rotation. 🖤

Warnings: anxiety, traumatic event mention, separation, pretty fluffy tho

Word Count: 1.1k

How lucky do you have to be to find your soulmate in this world? Well, finding them is the easy part. Recognizing them as such is far more difficult. So often, we think they have to be romantic, that we miss the platonic ones gifted to us. 

Early Life

Prudence and Temperance have been together literally their whole lives.

Like since conception.

They were separated into different classes in school, but that didn't really work.

Pru had a nasty habit of talking Tempe into switching places throughout the day.

Famine was the only one that caught on.

Eventually, the school gave in and let them be in the same class.

Their productivity increased and they got more social, which is not what the teachers were expecting.

As they got older, the girls got more involved in student government (lots of skills to be sharpened there) and held Class President and Vice President from 5th grade until they graduated.

Pru always ran for president, her ambition knows no bounds.

Tempe always ran for vice president, she was always needed to temper her sister.

Famine was usually secretary, always making sure that his girl and her sister had everything they needed.

College

In college, they double majored in criminal justice and political science.

They saw each other 7 days a week and turned in the best projects and papers their professors had ever seen.

They had to work their way up the ladder from freshman to senior positions in student government.

But they graduated as the President and Vice President that changed the most within the University for student life.

They always felt like they were destined to shake things up and move the world forward from some dusty tomb an old man deemed tradition.

Some things never change.

Adulthood

As they left college and became more involved with the family, Pru and Tempe's work got more intertwined.

There isn't a day they don't communicate through some means.

Most days, it's face to face and constant texting.

Occasionally, one of them will just take a day off and hide.

They can’t switch places as easily as they used to, but they know enough to be interchangeable when needed.

Substituting one for the other is never as good as having them in combination.

They feed off of the other’s energy while simultaneously balancing the other out.

Pru bolsters Tempe’s quiet confidence, reminding her that she’s almost always right and should trust in Pru if she feels she cannot trust herself.

Tempe quells Pru’s lust for power, reminding her that there is more to the world than she can control.

Mumbai

One day, Pru got a call to go on a long distance job.

Her strategic skills are unmatched and she’s often contracted out to plan missions in other countries.

Usually, she can do this from the comfort of her own home.

This time, she had to go in person. Something about a unique security system that wasn’t on the books.

The job took 2 weeks in Mumbai with radio silence.

It is still the longest and farthest they’ve ever been apart.

The girls don’t talk about it often.

They still functioned independently, but Famine could see that something was missing from Tempe.

Those 2 weeks dragged on for her and she seemed to wane like the moon, holding only a fraction of her usual radiance.

Prudence returned home a little beaten and bruised, but with her usual poise.

She never breathed a word of what happened to anyone, not even Tempe.

If the two days following their reunion were quiet and still, no one commented on it.

Partners

Famine has known the Twins since they were in Pre-K together.

He is the only person that has been able to tell them apart for their entire lives with no visual coding.

He has always been drawn to Temperance.

Something about her settles him in a way he can’t explain.

He and Prudence have also gotten along famously well.

Prudence respects the fact that he’s never tried to force her away from her sister or made the mistake of confusing them as the same person (inside and out).

Conquest didn’t come along until they were almost through with their training within the family.

He was taken by Prudence immediately.

Her poise and the power she holds in her stance is absolutely captivating. He still finds himself distracted by it all these years later.

He also has the innate ability to tell the twins apart at all times, even when Tempe calls from Pru’s phone and vice versa.

Temperance was the first of the twins to trust him.

She pushed him to pursue Prudence after figuring out his feelings. He has always loved Tempe for this.

The Wedding

Prudence knew that Famine was going to propose before he bought the ring.

The day he came to ask for her approval, which was much more important than their father’s, she asked him what took so long.

There was almost a fight over who would have Pru on their side at the wedding.

Tempe won, obviously.

She was the best Maid of Honor that they could have asked for.

Pru knows both of them so well that she could have planned the whole thing herself, but she only handled the day of.

If anything went wrong, and boy did it, Tempe and Famine were none the wiser.

She even managed to arrange a small photoshoot for her and Tempe.

It was just 3 pictures, but they meant the world to both of them.

Tempe opening a gift from Pru (a string of pearls), Prudence placing Tempe’s veil (handed down from their mother), a shot of Pru’s face after seeing Tempe in her completed look for the first time.

Looking back, there’s not a second of it either of them would have changed.

The Engagement

Temperance has waited on her sister all her life. It’s a habit she picked up from being 7 minutes older.

The day Conquest finally came to her was the second happiest in her whole life.

She helped pick the ring.

Not that he needed it. All the choices he showed Tempe were perfect for Pru. The one Conquest favored the most was actually the one that they picked.

Tempe was also responsible for getting the couple a moment of peace in their usually full house.

Conquest decorated the room (after removing all of his beloved’s little toys. There isn’t a room in the house she doesn’t at least have ears in) and Tempe pampered Pru making sure that she looked her absolute best for the photos later.

No one but Pru and Conquest know exactly how it played out. It’s their favorite secret to keep. Tempe knows better than to pry.

Prudence knows exactly how much her sister was involved and doesn’t think she could ever say thank you enough.

Tag List: @rogers-wristbands @deakydeckme @bitemerog

A/N: PM me to be added to the list or if there’s anything you want to see/any questions you have. Enjoy! 

[juliethebibliophile]

I Realize I saw The Lightning Thief Musical 3 Days Ago Now and I Still Haven’t Blogged About It?

So I’m gonna do that now. 

Okay, so I first heard about this musical 5 or 6 years ago on Tumblr when they first started workshopping it. Since then, they’ve been off Broadway twice(I live in New York), literally ON MY CAMPUS once, and every time my best friend and I have planned to see it but been too busy or forgotten to buy tickets. This year, while they were in Manhattan for their tour, we FINALLY went. That notion alone was enough to make me cry you guys, you have no idea how much it meant to me to finally see this show(that is another post entirely that I made on Facebook and might make here but I digress)

FULL SPOILER FREE REVIEW BELOW THE CUT

 Okay, so first thing I’ll say is from the moment this show began, forget that, from the moment I was on my way there, but especially when I got into the theatre, and again when the show started, I turned into a 14 year old again. I had not touched “The Lightning Thief”, or the first Percy Jackson series, since the 5th grade(I’m a junior in college now). I hadn’t even thought about the franchise as a whole since I read “The Blood of Olympus” when it came out in 2014(okay that’s a lie, I read the first Magnus Chase and Trials of Apollo but you get the picture). And yet, this show got me jumping up and down and crying about Percy instantly. And now I’ll go through the reasons why I think that is. 

So with me not having read the first book in ten years, I knew the movie was inaccurate, but I didn’t really know how or why because the plot of the movie was what stuck in my mind. When I reread the book in preparation for the musical, and saw the musical, I really understood where the movie went wrong, and in turn where this musical went so right. In general, the musical comes off like the characters and places in the books jumped right off of the pages. What really amazes me about this is that the actors are all obviously in their twenties, and yet you still feel like they’re the twelve year olds you know and love from that first book. I credit this to the incredible talent of the actors of course, but to some other things as well. 

The musical works with minimalism in terms of sets and effects, for obvious reasons, but this serves it so well. The minimalist way that everything is done matches the heart of the book. The things they do are things that kids playing pretend could do with props in their garage. And that’s what makes it so great: it has this childlike story hour feel that matches the childlike feel of the books, and also plays to the nostalgia factor that the books hold for the majority of the show’s audiences. 

The show is a comedy in a lot of ways, but it doesn’t feel like a parody because the books are comedic/not taking themselves seriously in that same way. The way the gods are portrayed in the musical(I won’t spoil anything but like...I nearly pissed myself at Poseidon) much better matches the feel of the books than the edgy, domineering figures in armor that the movies gave us. Every moment of laughter that the show provides has so much emotion behind it as well, and it harkens back to Percy’s sarcasm and ridiculous sounding chapter titles from the original series. 

The songs are amazing. Seriously, it’s been 3 days, and this soundtrack is still the only thing I can listen to. There are songs full of emotion and heart like “Good Kid” (which I’ve been crying over for years), “Strong” and “Tree on the Hill”, songs that are full of comedy and fun like “Another Terrible Day” and “Drive”, songs that’ll have you crying from triumph and pride like “Son of Poseidon” and “My Grand Plan”, and songs that are a perfect combination of everything like “Campfire Song” and “Bring on the Monsters”. In general, they all reminded me of the most joyful, innocent parts of myself, and reminded me what it’s like to love Percy Jackson.

The way the musical handles time restraints is spectacularly done as well. The song “drive” basically covers all the major events of the quest in about 5-10 minutes(save for Aunty Em’s and the trip to the Underworld which have their own scenes) and they technically don’t do everything that they do in the book, but the musical finds a way to pay homage to and acknowledge those events while also brushing past them in a comical way that the audience eats up. 

Speaking of time constraints, the musical also pays homage to beloved parts of the series that don’t occur in “The Lightning Thief”. Without changing or manipulating any plot points, they reference Bianca and Nico, the “dam” snack bar, Percabeth, and more. The subtle references are even more fun than if these elements had been placed in via changing plot(I’m looking at you creepy pool makeout scene in the movie) and the audience goes wild every time. 

That’s another measure of how spectacular the show is. The audience, which anyone with eyes can see is comprised of hoards of diehard Percy Jackson fans(fully grown adults in Camp Half-Blood T-shirts EVERYWHERE), goes absolutely batshirt nuts with excitement over this show. This makes it such a fun show to go to, because everything you wanna cheer for in an absolute nerdy, over-the-top way, everyone else is cheering for as well(Percabeth references, Percy being proclaimed the Son of Poseidon, etc.) It just brings you back to childhood joy and innocence for the two hours that you’re there.

The show immerses you in nostalgia in every way. The concession stand sells 90% blue food(an expert way for them to get all of my money too I willingly spent 17 bucks on snacks because they were blue). They reference inside jokes and fan favorites. In general, you can tell that everyone involved in the show has been a Percy Jackson fan at some point(or at least they did their research because seriously...”dam”). It’s funny, ridiculous and quirky, but so are the books, and the musical is also deep and emotional and beautiful in ways that I can’t even put into words. Just listen to Good Kid and Son of Poseidon. Seriously. They’re on Youtube and Spotify. You will cry. 

In conclusion, I have nothing negative to say about this show...like at all. If you’ve ever been a fan of Percy Jackson in any capacity, you’ve gotta see this show. I’ve been so ridiculously happy since I saw this show, and I forgot until I saw it what a significant part Percy Jackson played in my childhood and adolescence. It was an absolute delight from start to finish, and I will definitely be seeing it every time I have the opportunity. 

[mandeebobandee]

I said I’d write a post with my experience with mental illness and here it is. I put it off for a while because I wasn’t sure how personal I wanted to get, or if anyone would be interested, but hey. It’s been bouncing around in my head for a long time, and if this helps me or anyone who might come across it, I suppose it’s worth it. I’m going to put a read more here so that this doesn’t kill people’s dashes, since I have a feeling this is going to end up being long and rambly, but...here we go.

I’m not actually sure when my first symptoms showed up. It’s possible that I had some form of mental illness almost as far back as I can remember? I remember being in preschool and having a fear of wetting my pants for an entire day, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get the thought out of my mind. In first grade, I remember being seized by a fear that I would start swearing at the top of my lungs in the middle of class. I didn’t, but it popped into my head, and that felt bad enough. A couple of times in 2nd/3rd grade, I had difficulty falling asleep because I couldn’t stop worrying about trying to get to sleep, and I would keep repeatedly counting out how many hours of sleep I would get if I fell asleep right then, and if it would be ‘enough sleep’.

So yeah. I always was a worrywart, it seems like.

I feel like I should note that I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through 2nd grade. I should also note that I’m fairly certain my experiences with religion shaped some of my first experiences with mental illness. This is not to say anything against anyone who is religious - I respect you and your faith. However, certain things I learned through religion...didn’t exactly help me, with how my mind worked.

In Catholic school, confession is a thing. You go in front of a priest and tell him your sins, and he gives you a way to seek penance for it. Usually repeating a certain prayer a certain number of times, or something along those lines. I dunno, it’s been a LONG time since I’ve actually done it. I’m agnostic now, so I don’t exactly go to church.

The reason I bring this up? 

My experiences when I was younger MAY have qualified as mental illness. I’m not 100% certain. What began near the end of 3rd grade? There is NO doubt about that.

It was Good Friday 1998. I was 8, soon to be 9. The reason I brought up my religious background is this - a religion related discussion precipitated my heardfirst dive into obsessive-compulsive disorder.

I’m pretty sure the comment was relatively harmless in hindsight, my mom making a comment about how Jesus died for our sins or something like that. All I know is that I suddenly found myself besieged by an overwhelming guilt as I thought about everything ‘bad’ I’d done in my life. Saying bad words, sneaking candy when I was 4 years old, all of it kept jumping to the forefront of my mind, and I felt like I had to confess it all to my parents as it came to my mind. I’m not sure how long this lasted...probably only a couple of weeks, honestly, but it wasn’t fun.

Also, the weirdest things became concerns of mine at that point. I had to make certain not to stick my middle finger out too far, or else I was afraid that I’d accidentally flip someone off, which I knew was bad. I didn’t want to say words like ‘wash it’ because...well, the end of the word wash combined with the word it sounded like ‘shit’ and ‘oh no bad word!’.

...I hate to say it, but this was only the beginning.

My mom and I were praying at one point at night when a really bad thought popped into my head. I was terrified, because what if it came true because I thought it while I was praying? And I didn’t really want to talk about it with anyone, because it was so horrible that I didn’t want anyone to know about it.

This continued for much of fourth grade. I was afraid I would hurt my mother. I didn’t actually want to, of course - I recognize now that these were what are known as intrusive thoughts, but there aren’t many nine year olds who know that now, let alone in the late 90s when I was experiencing all of this.

I recall being afraid to even touch knives, if that tells you anything.

I would also pray. By this point I recognized that what I was doing was ‘weird’, so I found ways to hide what I was doing. I would go into a room by myself and go through my routine, or I would do my daily ‘prayer’ in the shower.

...here’s why this was an issue.

I wasn’t just saying a quick prayer. I had an entire script memorized, that had to be said exactly the right way or I’d have to repeat it all over again. And it wasn’t a quick script either. And I often WOULD have to repeat it all over again. I recall at least one point where my parents actually made a comment about how long I spent in the shower, and the water grew cold with how long I spent in there. I didn’t tell them why, because I knew it was weird

That particular phase reached a boiling point one night when I was watching The Lion King. Here, I feel I should note that The Lion King was my favorite movie when I was younger. It came out when I was 5 years old, and I was Simba for Halloween in kindergarten. I had Simba and Nala stuffed animals, a Simba windbreaker with matching pants (yes, windbreaker..it was the 90s, okay?) that I took my school picture in, a Lion King casette tape, Lion King sheets on my bed...

You get the picture.

I bawled my eyes out during that movie, and while yes, I did often cry at certain scenes in that movie, for obvious reasons...this was different. This was almost hysterical crying, and my parents knew there was something wrong. They managed to finally coax me to admit my fears, and that seeing Simba accused of what happened to Mufasa in that movie was...well, it was a little too close for comfort.

Talking to my parents helped. I still had worries, of course, but my next big flare up didn’t happen until 5th grade.

Once again, the thing that set it off should have been something that didn’t affect me. It wouldn’t affect most people. 

A girl in my gym class cut her knee on one of those rolly scooters that you’d sit on and roll around on in gym class. Obviously not the greatest thing, but you wouldn’t think it would be something that would set someone off...would you?

Ahahaha. Yeaaaaaaaaah right.

To preface, some of this was due to ignorance on my part. I was 10, I didn’t know the details as to how the disease I was so afraid of was transmitted. I only knew that you could get it from blood, and there was blood on the floor in gym class. So then I started worrying that I might have gotten it on my shoes. Then, that anything my shoes touched could have gotten something on them. Then my clothes. Then...

You, uh, get the picture.

I was afraid that anything I touched would give me AIDS. X_X Again, I KNOW now that it doesn’t work that way. I also know that even with other diseases, those pathogens eventually DIE outside of the body, so you don’t have to worry about your shoes being contaminated with the same virus two weeks later. But, again, I was 10. I actually learned shortly after this the truth of how AIDS is spread.

Anyway, this was one of the points where my OCD was most stereotypical. I washed my hands constantly. Obviously my parents noticed, and they tried to poke and prod into WHY I was doing this. Once again, my shame and fear and recognizing that what I was doing was ‘weird’ led me to hide the truth to some extent. We’d watched Johnny Tremaine in class and my dad mentioned that after he watched that movie he’d been afraid that his hand would get disfigured like one of the characters’ in the movie’s hands did. So I claimed that I feared something similar, and that was why I was washing my hands.

I’m pretty sure, looking back, that he probably didn’t buy that.

6th grade came. My mom had surgery. My best friend had diabetes. Neither of these were their fault, of course, but both I’m fairly certain had an impact on my already anxious mind. I started worrying that I would develop diabetes like my friend had. Now, I was old enough at this point to understand that diabetes wasn’t contagious, so at least I wasn’t worried about contracting it from my friend. I was, however, afraid of contracting other diseases, so...yep, the hand washing continued. We also happened to have this lovely book of illnesses from the 80s that my parents bought with an encyclopedia set way back that I spent way too much time reading. Actually, reading that became one of my compulsions. There was an entry that I would read through every night before I went to bed. The same entry.

My mom wound up in the hospital with chest pains a couple of weeks after surgery. They sent her home with a diagnosis of acid reflux. It was 2 in the morning and they took me to a side room to see if I could get some sleep. I couldn’t. We were learning about the plague of all things and I couldn’t get the idea that plague bacteria could be lurking anywhere in that room out of my head, so...yep. Didn’t get to sleep until they released my mom out of the ER at 6 or 7 in the morning.

I started fearing heart attacks around this point. I would literally feel for my heartbeat several times a day, just to make sure my heart was still beating. 

Christmas that year was...stressful. My mom was still recovering from her surgery, there was family drama, my uncle’s girlfriend had a possible diagnosis of TB so everyone was paranoid of being around him because of THAT, my dad’s side of the family insisted on smoking despite the fact that being around smoke made me feel blah...

Still, that was a walk in the park compared to New Years.

We were invited to a neighbor’s New Years Eve party. Everything was fine until I walked in the door.

I still don’t entirely know how to describe the feeling that came over me. 11-year-old me summed it up as ‘I feel like I’m going to pass out’. I tried to continue as if everything was normal. I didn’t want to disrupt the party. The neighbor’s toddler daughter, who liked showing off for the ‘big kid’, wanted to show me a dance or something that she’d learned.

The feeling didn’t go away. I told my mom I wanted to go home, that I still felt like I was going to pass out.

We made it back home. I remember pleading with my mom to take me to the doctor, because I was honestly afraid there was something seriously wrong with me. The feeling eventually abated, but not without my discovering something quite interesting.

Remember that childhood illnesses book? When I read it, I usually stuck to certain communicable diseases that I was concerned about, or things like the diabetes that my best friend struggled with. My mom was looking through the book trying to figure out what was wrong with me, and started reading a definition that stood out to me. I don’t recall what all it said, and we no longer have that book (as it would be over 30 years old at this point). One thing I do recall was that she read something along the lines of ‘feeling like you’re going crazy or dying’.

It was under the heading of ‘panic attack’.

That New Years was the only New Years I can ever recall NOT staying up until or past midnight.

I ended up getting a fever a few days later, and in the midst of my fever, my delirious mind pounced on my fears and kept asking me ‘what if you really do want to hurt somebody?’ I was shaking uncontrollably, not realizing that I had chills and a fever, and ran into my mom’s room sobbing and telling her I thought I was going crazy. She felt my forehead and told me I was burning up.

You can understand why, when it was time to return back to school after Christmas break, I was uneasy as my mom pulled up to the curb to drop me off. I was afraid that I’d get a headache, or that I’d feel like I was going to pass out again, or any of the multiple things that seemed to be wrong with me recently. Of course, I had to pull up my big girl panties and still go to school, but...I started to become afraid to do things, out of fear that they would ‘set me off’, that something like what happened at that New Years Eve party would happen again.

And it did.

Not right away, of course. I didn’t walk into school and have it happen right away. It happened once in gym class. It happened at a school party. It happened when my parents were driving.

It happened twice in one day, at the beginning of 7th grade. To be fair, though, there were special circumstances that day. One instance was precipitated by a mental picture in my head of a plane crashing into our school, if that gives you some idea. Needless to say, even the adults seemed confused and panicky that day, and given how I was already..yeah, it wasn’t any surprise that 9/11 left me particularly frazzled. 

The summer between 9th grade and 10th grade was quite possibly the worst. I spent hours doing my various ‘rituals’ that I had to do each day. By this time, I was already getting involved with online fandoms, and every day before I could actually posted what I wanted to on the Harry Potter forum I was on, I had to post certain posts over and over again. By this point, I more than suspected I had OCD.

I actually mentioned it to someone on the board, who pretty much laughed and said. ‘You don’t have it. If you had it, it would be noticeable’.

...like it wasn’t? Did they think I was posting the same thing over and over again for fun? I was doing rituals until 1 and 2 in the morning for pete’s sake.

This was honestly the pattern off and on through high school. 11th grade was particularly awkward, as it began to affect my grades. Certain readings in American Lit would give me ‘weird feelings’, and I couldn’t bring myself to finish the assignments for them for that reason. 

The summer between 11th and 12th grade was when things hit a head. I developed a thing for straightening shelves in stores, and my dad was poking fun at me doing it at one point. I love my dad, but he can be particularly harsh when he teases, and by that point I was already in a bad position.

I burst into tears in the middle of Walmart. Not one of my proudest moments.

That said...it gave me the impetus to finally go to my parents about what was wrong. I knew I’d needed therapy for a few years prior to this point, I’d just never worked up the courage to talk to them about it.

The first part of the conversation actually went how I feared. My parents thought it was like the diseases I looked up as a child and would come into their room telling them I feared I’d get it (...ironically, I did that BECAUSE of this disorder, but moving on). 

I left the room crying and began to write out my experience year after year, much as I did here (though probably not quite as eloquently...I was 17 at the time, after all). Once my parents read THAT, they finally realized how much this was impacting my life, and agreed to take me to the doctor.

Not only that, but they confessed that they did similar things. Now both of them admit to having OCD to some extent, and it’s pretty darn obvious that much of my family struggles with anxiety and/or OCD...on both sides.

Sad thing is? It took until the millennials (me and my cousin on my dad’s side) and Gen Z (a cousin on my mom’s side) before anyone actually sought help for any of this. X_X 

I’m not going to pretend that I went to therapy and things magically got better. Therapy did help. I stopped therapy when I was 19, because my therapist was about to have a baby. I never went back to see her after that, figuring I was doing better at that point.

Of course, the ensuing decade after that was full of ups and downs.

2016 is probably when things began to get extra difficult again. I began to experience tremors. I would get dizzy/have palpitations. My doctor sent me to see a cardiologist and a neurologist.

They ran their tests, determined there was nothing physically wrong with me. The tremors, dizziness, and palpitations were new manifestations of my anxiety. At some point (not 100% sure when), I also gained a diagnosis of GAD.

Last year, I finally began to see a therapist yet again (the 2017-2018 flu season scared me particularly badly, and I still have a paranoia because of it), and started a new medication. Has everything gotten completely better?

No, but it has improved some from where it was prior to that point. I’m still working on it, and I’ll probably be working on it in some way, shape, or form for my entire life.

But hey, at least I can be more open about it now. And I know that I’m not alone, and that makes a huge difference as well <3

[septembersung]

I spent most of the last two months thinking through my educational philosophy in a concrete way - tying it all together, seeing how far we’ve come, and where I want to go over the next year. I’ve finished final revisions to method, schedule, and content, and starting in May we’re ready to launch the revisions. My oldest would be starting public school kindergarten this fall if we were going that route, so our start-early-take-it-easy trial year is nearly over, and it is such a good feeling to see all these ducks in a row (and so far ahead of the legal paperwork deadlines!)

I’ve finally gotten over the feeling that I have to prove myself, which is almost as much of a relief as being able to clearly and succinctly articulate what we’re doing here and why. Under the cut is my thinking-out-loud: a general summary and a where-we-are-now overview.

Our homeschool, now under the patronage of St. Boniface, is a Catholic, holistic, classical liberal arts education for all ages. (That means everyone’s part of school, even the baby, many subjects are taught together, and we don’t have “vacation” from learning.) Our year-round structure is divided into four terms, each named each after a concurrent feast or season: June - Aug is Pentecost Term; Sept - Nov is Michaelmas Term; Dec - Feb is Christmas Term; and we are currently in Easter Term, March - May. 

My new elevator speech, hastily prepared a few days ago when I suddenly realized I was going to get grilled by extended family members during Easter Sunday get-togethers, is, “We are homeschooling in the Catholic, classical liberal arts tradition, with some Charlotte Mason influences.” Although depending on who’s asking it was wiser to say, “We’re homeschooling with a classical program.” That’s what most people, family and acquaintances alike, are looking for after all - they don’t know what a ‘Catholic classical liberal arts education’ is or who Charlotte Mason was, and more importantly, they don’t care. And most of our family, while verbally in general supportive of homeschooling, are old-school evangelicals who have a deep distrust if not outright hatred of the Church and anything tainted with even a faint resemblance of the Faith. So what they really want to know is, “how much of a weirdo are you??” Well, we’re definitely Weird (can’t help it, being tradition-minded Catholics and all,) but yes we are using a “real” curriculum, thanks for asking, and I just won’t mention the curriculum we’ve taken as a guide is named after our Blessed Mother.

Anyway. In familiar, contemporary terms, I have a kindergartener (5), a preschooler (nearly 4), a toddler (2), and an infant. But the ”kindergartener” is working anywhere from a K to a 5th grade level in various subjects, the “preschooler” from a K to 3rd level, and the toddler at a preschool level. It turns out grade level really doesn’t matter all that much.

Why do they seem so advanced? It’s a combination of being bright kids, who are learning together, and directly with mom and dad, who are given real material to work with - and all that compared against the severely lackluster contemporary federal standards we’re familiar with. Don’t get me wrong: they’re all definitely bright kids! I’m very, very proud of them. And I strongly suspect Benedict and Mary fall in the “gifted” spectrum. (As someone who was cursed with that label early on and lived with the fallout all through public school, I’ve given the issue sober reflection.) But they don’t seem to be prodigies, and I firmly believe that any reasonably bright child given a substantial, nurturing home education is going to show up on the very high end of contemporary public school rubrics; analysis of the test data certainly supports that intuition. But I digress.

With the classical foundation and structure as a given, I’ve borrowed as useful “tools” some concepts and approaches from Charlotte Mason, and use Mother of Divine Grace’s booklist, textbooks, and breakdown of the classical method as a template. With those complementary tools we’re building a tailored curriculum within our family culture. 

Thus the theory. Where are we actually at now? 

As a dutiful (would-be) Benedictine oblate, I build our day around the Divine Office. I say as much as I can and for the most part expect the kids to say our family morning offering, and then Tertia (9am), Sexta (12pm), and Nona (3pm). Evenings are hard for us because of Husband’s schedule so I waffle on whether to have them say Vespers or Compline, but even on the “worst” of evenings we do our own bedtime prayers. Other family devotions, including the rosary, come and go in a more or less regular rotation. Ideally we do most of our academics and some read alouds in the morning, cook and bake between 10-12, spend lots of time outdoors, have teatime with our baked goods after Nona, and then somehow muddle our way between dinner, Offices, stories, cleaning up ourselves and the house, and bedtime.

For Holy Week and Triduum we were staying with family so we focused on family time and on living our faith as best we could while not at home. In one way it’s good, because we are just a short (comparatively) drive from an FSSP church; in another way it’s difficult, because the extended family looks askance at our Catholicity. 

At home again for the Octave of Easter, we’ve set aside the schedule and “academics” (such as phonics and math drills) to let our interests lead us where they will. Sort of in unschooling fashion, though I try to retain the basic structure of our ideal day, as outlined above. ((Although I have time to write this all out today because I’m sick enough to be couch-ridden so mostly it’s been “go play outside, come in when you’re hungry, no I can’t read to you I can barely talk.” But all signs point to getting back up to speed before the week is out.)) (((One reason I love the year round four term cycle is we can have relaxed days and sick days like this, and “take off” for high holy days like Octaves - and there is absolutely zero worry about “losing time” or “falling behind.” But I digress, again.)))

Before/at the start of each term I make a core book list, which encompasses chapter books, reference/encyclopedia-style books, workbooks, and similar. We add to it as we go, and occasionally drop a book or quit early to save for later. Frequently I start the next term’s list early so as not to lose track of great books we just don’t have room for at the moment, so I’m in the middle of Pentecost Term’s list right now.) Some books carry over from term to term, or even year to year (e.g. Book of Virtues.) 

Rather than daily lesson plans, our goals are now in whole books, sections of, and skills to master, and I record what we actually do each day instead of what I’d like to do. At least that’s the record keeping method I’m switching to beginning May 1st. I’m filling in my lesson plan book with subject headings. Then in each box I’ll write down what we actually did for that subject on that day. I will also keep going with my notebook (or more realistically speaking, the typed file) where I write everything out in more comprehensive detail.

My list of “subjects” looks like this; I’ve included the sub-headings in parentheses:

memorization (poems, songs, prayers)

music (playing and listening, )

penmanship (MODG handwriting books, tracing books, free writing/drawing/coloring in many mediums on many surfaces)

literature (read alouds)

nonfiction (read alouds)

reading (phonics, readers)

math (Abeka K drills, MODG PK math, general practice)

social studies (history, geography)

life skills (cooking, chores, etc)

foreign language (spanish, latin, asl)

science (observation, journaling, scrapbooking, reading, experiments)

handcrafts (drop spindles, little looms, pre-sewing skills)

religion (catechism, prayer, Scripture, etc)

astronomy (constellations, telescope use, solar system, history of, etc)

art (appreciation, making)

husbandry (growing things) ((and someday we’ll be able to raise animals))

The beauty of this division is it’s easier to keep track of all we’re really accomplishing. So many books and practices work for more than one thing; e.g., learning a traditional hymn (bonus if it’s actually part of the Office!) goes in Latin, music, Religion, and memorization. Now I can make quick notes of things we’ve done and easily see what we’re accomplishing and what might be getting put on the back burner.

Booklist for Easter term (so far):

Literature (excluding picture books*): Farmer Boy  Little House on the Prairie Black Ships Before Troy: The Story of the Iliad The Wanderings of Odysseus: The Story of the Odyssey  The Boxcar Children #2: Surprise Island The Boxcar Children #3: The Yellow House Mystery Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle (#1) The Amelia Bedelia Treasury (vols. 1 & 2) The King of the Golden City: An Allegory for Children A Child’s Book of Myths (audiobook, physical copy for illustrations)

*Picture books are not listed individually because we use the MODG lists, PK - 1st, with additions, comprehensively. We’ve about exhausted the PK and K lists and are beginning to move into the 1st grade list. We read these picture books at will throughout the year, sometimes more frequently and sometimes less.

“Spine” books, Nonfiction, anthologies, reference, hands-on, etc: Discovering Our World: A Course in Science for the Middle Grades (1937), units 1 & 2 St Joseph First Communion Catechism Little Angel Catholic Readers, Book A Book of Virtues Grimm’s Fairy Tales The Harp and the Laurel Wreath  Abridged & Illustrated Gibbons’ Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire  Nature in America Cathedrals and Churches of Europe  DK Eyewitness: Plants Sister Wendy’s The Story of Painting (paired with the DVD) Pioneer Farm Cooking by Gunderson (a cookbook) The Story of Great Inventions by Elmer Ellsworth Burns (1910)  Bach picture book biography for children Mozart picture book biography for children

The tl;dr of the complexity of the issue has been how to make education a normal, daily thing, that’s truly comprehensive, in a family setting with a variety of ages and abilities and interests - without “doing school” in a way that makes it a drag for the kids (because who likes being regimented that way?? nobody!) but without being so loosey-goosey that I have no idea where we are or should be. This breakdown and method, which we’ve been half-doing for a while and are now going to give a long good try for the next twelve months, is as close to perfect as I can get it at this stage in our lives. 

This post started out as a booklist and turned into a manifesto... and I’m not even surprised. Or bothered. Viva la homeschooling!

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 23

I will confess, when I started to write as a hobby I didn’t actually like writing. Trouble with spelling and grammar coupled with school writing projects that were too vague in scope and lacked instructional direction killed my love for writing before it even started. I wrote not because I had been inspired to write, I wrote because I was bored.

It was the mid-90s; the high speed internet that makes streaming, Youtube, gaming and social media a thing didn’t exist yet. My Space, the ancestor to Facebook wouldn’t come into being for another 7-8 years. And don’t get me started on the search engines of the time. The kind of algorithm that makes Google scarily effective wasn’t even a thought. Most search engines at the time used a combination of ‘web crawlers’ to collect web sites and human curation to determine what search results you’d get.

At the time, my family just recently installed dial up internet. Dad was so excited to show me, even if all I did was look up Sailor Moon pictures between reading chapters out of a physical book because the pictures took so long to load. But lack of good internet wasn’t why I was bored.

I had, the year I finished 5th grade, undergone a series of surgeries due to a birth defect complication. And even after the surgeries were finished, I had a long road to recovery. I couldn’t sit for long periods of time that school required, and I was often in pain and exhausted. So instead of going to school in my 6th year, I stayed home. An agreement with the school allowed me to just take the ‘core’ subjects in order to move onto the next year, which was English and Math. So you’d imagine, when I wasn’t sleeping, I was very bored due to the lack of work.

I already read a lot in my spare time, and so taking up writing for my English made sense. And, I did. I don’t remember fully what inspired me to write, or why I wrote the things I did. Painkillers tend to make things a bit fuzzy. But by the time 7th grade rolled around I had discovered fanfiction. 

Again, I’m not sure how I discovered it. I suspect it was the fansites where I first found fanfiction. Back then, there was no fanfiction.net, or if there was it was a baby. Before fanfiction.net and wiki websites, personal websites were very common. This was because they were free at one point, Angelfire being the most well known of them, and I believe buying your own domain was cheaper back then. At any rate, the fans of any fandom that may have existed at the time owned their own websites and through these sites, curated fanfiction. In fact, it wasn’t unusual to receive requests from other sites for permission to host a story on their site.

I got my start on a site called fanfiction.com, which actually was a coding project apparently if I recall correctly. It had spread by word of mouth, and one of the features of the site was that people could, on top of leaving comments, give a story 1 out of 5 stars. And that’s how stories were pushed to the top of a category. Like I said, this site was someone’s project, and they had left it alone not realizing that it grew without them. I ended up on fanfiction.net when the creator realized what was happening, sent out a notice that the site was shutting down and directed everyone there.

And I guess that was history, so I continued to write. Primarily fanfiction until I entered into university but that’s a completely different kettle of issues. But yea, that’s my story. What’s your writer's origin story?

[romancatholicreflections]

3rd September >> Daily Reflection/Commentary on Today’s Gospel Reading for Roman Catholics on Monday of the Twenty-Second Week in Ordinary Time (Luke 4:16-30).

We begin today the reading of Luke’s gospel which will bring us up to the end of the Church year. We have already gone through Matthew and Mark and John’s gospel has been spread through various parts of the year, especially during the Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter seasons.

The gospel is a companion volume to the book of the Acts and the language and structure of these two books indicate that both were written by the same person. They are addressed to the same individual, Theophilus, and the second volume refers to the first.

Luke presents the works and teachings of Jesus that are especially important for understanding the way of salvation. Its scope is complete from the birth of Christ to his ascension. It appeals to both Jews and Gentiles.

However, we take up Luke’s gospel at the beginning of Jesus’ public life (chap. 4). After his baptism he had returned “in the power of the Spirit to Galilee”, the northern province of Palestine and his home province. Already people were talking about him everywhere.

Now, as our reading opens, we find him in Nazareth, a small town in Galilee and the place where he grew up. From the verses immediately preceding, it does not seem that Jesus actually began his ministry in Nazareth. The event described here may not have taken place until a year later. One suggestion (NIV Bible) is that all that is described in John’s gospel between 1:19 to 4:42 took place between the temptation in the desert and the moving north to Galilee (vv.13 and 14).

But Luke has arranged the structure of his gospel so that Jesus will begin his public life in Nazareth and will gradually proceed southwards towards his goal, Jerusalem, without turning back. In the other Synoptics he moves around Galilee in all directions and John suggests that he made a number of visits to Jerusalem during his public life.

The Jerusalem Bible suggests that our passage today actually combines three distinct parts:

the first, vv.16-22 (Jesus is honoured), occurring at the time indicated by Matt 4:13;

the second, vv.23-24 (Jesus astonishing his audience), the visit of which Matthew and Mark speak;

the third, vv.25-30 (the life of Jesus threatened), not mentioned by Matthew or Mark and to be placed towards the end of the Galilean ministry.

In this way Luke presents an introductory tableau which is a summary and symbol of Christ’s great offer and of its contemptuous rejection by his own people.

As the reading opens we find Jesus in the town synagogue. It is a sabbath day. He gets up to read the scripture and comments on it. The ruler of the synagogue could authorise any adult Jew to read the scripture lesson. The passage he reads is full of significance. It comes from the prophet Isaiah and Jesus’ reading of it amounts to a manifesto or what we might call today a “mission statement”. ‘Books’ in those days were in the form of scrolls and the Scriptures were kept in a special place in the synagogue and given to the reader by an attendant. Jesus may have chosen the passage himself or it may have been assigned for that day.

But it is more than just a mission statement. As he reads it becomes clear that the whole statement is about Jesus himself. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” This has already been confirmed during his baptism in the river Jordan when “the Holy Spirit came down on him in the form of a dove” and a voice was heard to say, “You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased” (Luke 3:22).

“Because he has anointed me.” In saying this Jesus is making an unequivocal claim to be the Messiah or the Christ, the long-awaited liberating King of Israel. The word “Messiah”, translated into Greek as Christos (), means someone who is anointed with oil. (We call the oil in baptism and confirmation ‘chrism’.) And a person was made king by having oil poured over his head. (We remember how David was anointed king.) Jesus, of course, was not literally anointed but had been figuratively ‘anointed’ by the coming of the Spirit on him in his baptism. ‘Anointing’ is our equivalent of ‘coronation’, symbolised by the putting of a crown on the new king.

Then comes the mission of this King:

To preach the gospel to the poor,

to heal the broken-hearted,

to proclaim liberty to captives and

recovery of sight to the blind,

to set at liberty those who are hurt

and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.

There is nothing here of restoring the glories of Israel, nothing about conquering enemies and laying waste their lands. No, it is about letting the poor of this world hear the Good News of God’s love for them. It is about healing and reconciliation. It is about liberating those who are tied down by any form of enslavement. It is about helping people to see clearly the true meaning of life. It is about restoring wholeness to people’s lives and to societies. It is about the inauguration of the Kingdom by its King.

It is, in short, the whole picture of Jesus that will unfold in the pages of Luke, a gospel which focuses on the poor and vulnerable, a gospel of tenderness and compassion, a gospel of the Spirit and of joy, a gospel of prayer and healing.

It is about “proclaiming a year acceptable to the Lord”. This refers to the Messianic age when salvation would be proclaimed. Isaiah in the original text is alluding to the Year of Jubilee, when every 50 years slaves were set free, debts were cancelled and ancestral lands were returned to the original family. Isaiah was thinking mainly of freedom from Babylonian captivity but Jesus was speaking of liberation across the board of human living.

And, as he finished the reading, Jesus put down the scroll and said that these things were now being fulfilled as they were hearing them.

And the townspeople who thought they knew him so well were overawed by the wisdom with which he spoke. This positive reaction to Jesus is a favourite theme in Luke. “Is not this Joseph’s son?” they asked rhetorically. But they were wrong. He was not Joseph’s son; he was the son of Mary and of the Father, the divine Word sharing our ‘flesh’. (As suggested above, this event may have occurred on a second visit.)

And this in turn leads us to the third section of the reading which provides an unexpected turn of events and is more in harmony with the later part of Jesus’ public life. Jesus’ hearers were surprised at the way he spoke but they were not moved to change. After all, he was just the son of Joseph, and someone they knew so well could have nothing to say to them. At the same time Jesus says they, his own townspeople, must be wondering why he is not doing the things in Nazareth that he was doing in places like Capernaum.

Capernaum, apparently a sizeable town, was where Peter lived and Jesus made his house the centre out of which he did his missionary work in Galilee. A 5th century basilica now stands on the supposed site of the house and there is a 4th century synagogue quite near.

The reason for their non-acceptance is that they do not really accept him for what he is. He reminds them that prophets are seldom accepted in their own place. Familiarity blinds people to their message. “I know who he is and he has nothing to say to me.” Jesus then gives two rather provocative examples:

During a great famine in the time of the prophet Elijah he was sent to help not his fellow Israelites but a poor widow in Sarepta, near Sidon in non-Jewish territory. Sidon was one of the oldest Phoenician cities on the Mediterranean coast and about 33 km north of Tyre. Later, Jesus would heal the daughter of a Gentile woman here.

And in the time of the prophet Elisha, there were many lepers in Israel but he was sent to cure Naaman, a Gentile general from Syria.

God reaching out to Gentiles through his prophets sets the stage for the Gentiles to receive the message of the Prophet Jesus, which is so much a theme of Luke’s writings. But these remarks so angered the people of Nazareth that they dragged Jesus to the brow of a hill with the intention of throwing him down but he just walked through them. Whether he did this miraculously or from the sheer power of his personality is not clear. In any case, his time had not yet come.

Prophetic voices being rejected by their own is a phenomenon only too common in our own day. And it was something Jesus foretold would happen to his followers, simply for being his followers and proclaiming his vision of life. In the meantime, let us make Jesus’ mission statement our own. It is what being a Christian means.