#forgive me if it's not super polished though

[spockandawe]

I'm so close to catching up with my books! Here we have the triumph of time, again, as a vellucent binding, again. And this may not look super different to you from my last iteration of this project! The differences were VERY process-driven and hard to photograph, but I pinky swear that there are incremental but noticeable improvements, and i would never mix up editions irl.

First up, refresher, vellucent binding is when there's a protective layer of vellum floating over your cover illustration, protecting it. Or. If you're cheap. Paper vellum. My first time around, I realized as soon as I got the vellum paper wet that oh shit, this REALLY has a grain, and it is the opposite of what my books want. It's the first time I've ever been punished for ignoring grain, though, so I can't complain. I pressed on anyways, because what is even the point of fucking around if you aren't bold enough to find out? As a result, my vellum on the first set has noticeable wrinkles, despite only the turn-ins being glued down, and it all floats more than i wish. You have to smooth it with your fingers to really SEE the detail in the images.

So, naturally, my second time, I got bigger vellum paper, covered the whole thing in paste, plopped my covers onto there, and planned to smooth the wrinkles out. Yeahhhh, that... it was fairly forgiving in the one volume with a primarily white background, and was a goddamn nightmare on the three illustrations.

Lesson one: paper vellum is like a sandworm that wants to curl up and die at the first touch of moisture. Lesson two: it wants to hurt you. PUNISH you. Lesson three: no seriously it is so much more difficult and unforgiving than any other material I've sampled yet. The wallet cost of actual vellum may be outweighed by the emotional cost of this shit.

Naturally, I am bewitched and determined to science it into submission.

For the record: v1 (turn-ins glued, wrong grain) in the bottom left, v2 (paste everywhere, abandoned on the curb without text blocks to warp and writhe as they please) in the top center, and v3 (turn-ins glued, correct grain, more effort to pull tension on the vellum) in the bottom right. I'm not done experimenting by any means, but i need to stop for a minute until i nail the process, to save my poor toner cartridges

But the books themselves! Even though i still see ways to polish my own process, i am DELIGHTED with them. The pull of the paper vellum still wants to introduce slack and wrinkles to the cover as it dries, but there's much less! The moment you get adhesive on paper vellum you commit to a fight to the death, but I'm getting better at handling and anticipating it!

There's a level of polish in the assembly of this set that was lacking in my first and second attempts at the covers. Even if it isn't perfect yet, I'm learning so much, and have new ideas for how to troubleshoot. The idea of making this bookbinding style more accessible and affordable fills me with so much delight, I can't even articulate it. I'm still very much an amateur myself, there are lots of professional best practices I can only speak to in the abstract. Pinning down something this niche and luxurious would make me so happy. Future science will be done on single-volume sets, probably after I'm done moving, but it's at the top of my to do list!! And when it's perfected, I'm for SURE coming back to this series, it's one of my all-time faves, I want to give it the fanciest treatment my hands can devise.

[musingmelsuinesmelancholy]

Would you say your spiritual beliefs have changed significantly since you first began exploring spirituality? Do you feel your core beliefs have changed or remain the same?

ooooooh hell yea! how horrified my 14yr old self would be at the shit I get up to now xD

I started out as a neo wiccan, super-duper new age. I'm talkin crystals, reiki, "smudging", rede thumping, love and light and pixie farts. There was some animism, I think I've always been one to an extent. I have very distinct memories of being angry at kids for "hurting" the plants outside the church at school and being absolutely horrified to hear that only humans had an immortal soul. Firmly rebuked that idea in my lil ginger gremlin heart, much to the priest's annoyance. Once I found wicca it validated those feelings of mine and allowed me room to explore them, though not to the extent I later would. Given that I was very fluffy when I began, around 2014, I was very much into (for lack of a better word) toxic positivity and I struggled to accept/acknowledge the darker parts of myself, nature, magic, occult/pagan history and spirits. While there was some animism there it was lacking nuance. It made me uncomfortable to try and reconcile this nature-based religion with the violent colonialist history of the country. So I ignored it.

I found, or rather was led to, traditional witchcraft in late 2017. This led to me fully embracing animism as the focus of my craft/spirituality and accepting all those dark things I had shunned. I moved completely away from deity worship. Tho, tbh, I don't think I ever really did believe in The God/Goddess. (I was one of those all gods are The God/dess types) I think it was more that I liked the sound of it, and I agreed that the divine feminine was sorely underappreciated rather than having actual belief/devotion. I was able to reconnect with my Maliseet relatives which was so instrumental in my developing a more nuanced approach to and understanding of animism.

Rather than craft being a religion it was a spiritual practice. A way to connect with the spirits and make things happen. I yearned for power, for witchcraft. It was how I survived living with my father, how I survived my ex's abuse and how I escaped. I was spite, hate and venom. Cursing, binding, dominating, sweetening and twisting.

My local lore as well as the lore of my ancestors' cultures informed my craft. I balked at the idea of worship. A witch makes magic, we do not bow. Why rely on a god when ours is the weaving of fate? What God would want such a cruel and twisted witch anyways... We have our devil(s), land spirits, the dead... our "little gods". I Didn't need or want a Zeus. After all, there was none of that in the lore. Coming from a catholic background I saw people begging God to fix their problems. Issues which, for the most part, could probably be handled pretty easily. I learned to see seeking solace and strength in religion as a kind of weakness.

Once I was free a vacuum was created. I had my relationships with spirit but I felt rather aimless.. I have reverence for my witch father, after all, it was He who opened the door, yet I felt a certain emptiness. There was no need for all this malefica I had been used to.

Eventually She appeared to me; all those hidden parts of myself were brought to light. I felt like a granite pebble. Hard and unyielding, to be worn smooth ever so slowly by the ocean. Try as I may to remain jagged the waves will win; I will be softened/polished... She opened me to love, not philia but rather something rather like agape. If you'll forgive my catholic terminology haha. I still don't understand. As I'm writing this, I'm in disbelief that I actually said that... that I actually truly feel this way now... This is new and not at all where I thought I was headed. I'm embarrassed that I ignored her for SO long and all because I couldn't find mention of what I was seeing/experiencing in folklore. Yet she was there, from the start.

I'm not sure where this will lead nor how it'll shape my craft. I'm exploring (and adoring) gaulpol. I'll have to, like my animism, learn how to practice it in stolen land. I'm unsure of how syncretic my craft will remain, as a large portion of it was informed by new England lore. My ancestors faith has always played a large role in my veneration of them.. then again they sent me messages/omens when I asked for guidance in identifying Her.. so perhaps neither of them will mind haha.

My craft began very terrestrial, and it will continue to be so, but it has become much more focused on water and stars than I would've thought. I always thought of the heavens as more the purview of ceremonial magic. One thing that's stayed 100% consistent is the imposter syndrome and fears/feelings of inadequacy xD

Good lord I fuckin rambled huh? TLDR yea shits changed, always been a dirty soil lovin animist from the sticks. THank you for the ask bud! Sorry about the novel that shit is wicked long

(I hate that when I'm tired the fuckin Mainer comes out)

[purplenidoqueen]

You can be antizionst, I honestly don't care for your personal opinion.

But when you speak out, a jewish person, against most of your jewish siblings, you are actively hurting us all.

You being publicly jewish and anti zionist, which is a term mostly used to sugar coat antisemitism (my grandma's polish passport taken after the holocaust because "anti Zionism" for example), is used by real antisemitic people in the same way republican use conservative black people, and sexits use conservative women.

Idk, just felt like telling you my opinion.

I really don't intend to hurt you or anything like that. If it comes off as super harsh, please forgive me.

Have a great day!

I'm not speaking out against anything Jewish. Zionism isn't Jewish, and you don't have to be Jewish to be a zionist any more than you have to be a zionist to be Jewish. If there are a number of zionist Jews, that's a problem of zionism, just as the fact that there are white people who are racist or sexist or otherwise bigoted doesn't make white folk the problem. Still you say I'm hurting us all, as the usamerican conservatives say that learning the truth of slavery and antiblackness during the pre- and post-Civil War eras hurts white students? I'm not the one making us look bad; look instead to Netanyahu or Ben-Gvir or Gallant, and judge yourself not for the actions of your kin but by your own actions alone.

Let's put aside the way those same conservatives use zionism to push the far-right ideologies of Likud, Otzma Yehudit, and similar groups into the mainstream of Jewish, Christian, and contemporary western culture. Let's just focus on the issue of antisemitism, on a small scale or on a larger scale. Let's focus on October 7th, or the Tree of Life synagogue shooting, or the Shoah, or all number of incidents prior or since. Why is October 7th seen as the start of an onslaught that has been ongoing since last century? Why do we as a broader culture know of the Tree of Life but not of the Cave of the Patriarchs? Why do we teach students about the Shoah but not the Nakba? Why do you think Jewish people are worth more than the millions of Palestinians that have been killed, maimed, sickened, starved, abducted, terrorized, or displaced by Israel for eight decades? Why should I consider the threat of another October 7th to be a reason to excuse to commit a cultural genocide or a murderous, exterminationist genocide of over two million people, by right of skin color and a landlord's dreams of real estate? Because one side is my people? You're all my people. Every life on this planet is one of my people, and if my own mother, sweet as she is, committed a sin so grievous I'd do anything I could to bring her to justice.

I'm sorry your grandma had issues of antisemitism. You and I have experienced it too, I assume, though likely not as a systemic issue. I personally lived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when the congregation of Etz Chayyim-Or L'Simcha was attacked by a neonazi. I know all too well how antisemitism can spread, unprompted and unabashedly. If you want to put antisemitism to rest, turning "our people" into a country of genocide apologists is not the way to do it. To call antizionism a form of antisemitism is true antisemitism, because it's a way of preying upon the fears of a people that have already been through so much in recent memory. Israel will be judged for Israel's behavior. The dream of avoiding antisemitism is not worth another holocaust.

The Israeli occupation and annexation of Palestine, so soon after watching the post-9/11 descent of my entire country into islamophobia and war, is the single issue that radicalized me into politics as a teenager back in 2005/2006. If I can help others learn what I learned and see what I've seen, then I think it's worth some hard feelings.

Speaking of hard feelings, don't forget: After World War I and the Great Depression, the people of Germany thought the Third Reich had a reason to rule as they did. I speak out against zionism because one grave sin does not permit another. Don't give Likud an excuse to be the modern era's new Nazis.

[wandringaesthetic]

Top 5 JRPGs

So in order to answer this question I had to have a few existential crises. First: what is a JRPG (we just don't know)? I'm going with the more purist answer here since we're narrowing it down to 5. So no action RPGs or tactical RPGs. Second: do I just put down my personal favorites here? because that's going to be 4 Final Fantasy games and idk Suikoden II, probably, and that's not very interesting. I don't really believe in objective quality, but at the moment I find it interesting to take a stab at it or at least name things I think are genuinely very good and polished and have relatively universal appeal. In the end, ugh, whatever, here's a list:

Final Fantasy VII - this is the one that made me fall in love with the genre. I don't have much to say about it that hasn't already been said. I will say, while I mostly like Remake/Rebirth there's something about the original they're never going to catch, and there's a lot to be said about being (relatively) more succinct and focused and leaving some things to the imagination.

Dragon Quest V - This is as good as the UrJRPG series gets. Charming and funny and bright and occasionally tragic. It's about growing up and family and perseverance. It did the monster recruitment thing before Pokemon. I played the Super Famicom version via fan translation and emulation, so I don't know if the remake(s?) of this have quite the same charm. It's helpful for older games to look their age so you can put them in the context of their time, I think. I feel like relatively few people in the west have played this one, which is a shame because it's the missing piece in the influences of Lufia, Earthbound, Chrono Trigger, possibly even Pokemon. Really fun, really solid game that was genuinely touching and made me feel childlike wonder.

Suikoden II - I first played this one when I was in college and Going Through It, and I've been meaning to replay it ever since. So, my memories are a little muddled but I'm going to do my best. Two boys take diverging paths to the same end. A war story that takes on a human scale by developing a huge cast of characters and by having your base grow around you. It takes one of the most interesting middle chapter twists I can think of in a video game. It's one of the best looking and sounding sprite based games to exist. It has an iron chef cooking mini game.

Shadow Hearts Covenant - balances between horror and quirkiness. Atypical setting (in the shadows of IRL World War I). Atypical protagonist with many demons, literal and metaphorical. Really good gameplay. Takes the FFX conditional turn based thing, where you can see the turn order and where some skills alter it, and runs with it. Timed hits, but it's customizable so you can make the system more or less forgiving and balance risk/reward with precise inputs versus guaranteed, but lower, accuracy. Adds up to a really fun game. Vibes are immaculate. Cast is great. But I cannot speak to how good the plot is because I don't remember most of it. It and the rest of the series have never been ported or remade and likely never will be. Keep circulating the tapes.

Chrono Trigger - I mean if you're only going to play one JRPG this is the one. The love child of Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest, with the bright, fun adventure qualities of DQ and the scifi/fantasy fusion and existential angst of FF. Did gameplay stuff it took other games decades to do and did it better. One of the best looking SNES games. The music makes me feel feelings I can't name. I paradoxically think it's overrated even though I'm putting it on the list, because it's not a personal favorite and I don't think anything in the world lives up to the hype around this game. It is very good, however, and a distillation of the genre.

[seekfelt]

4* Gemini Yachiyo Tsuruhime - Bond Stories

To die together, like Castor and Pollux... Isn't that what we should've been?

The True Esssence of Fear

Location: Siegfeld Rehearsal Room

Yachiyo: (Gemini is a constellation split in two. To express that, this costume has a black-and-white asymmetrical look... The lace and decor work to tie everything together.

That's what I was going for, at least! It'd honestly look better if the top was all-white.)

But two brothers, huh... I'm still not sure whether to play Castor or Pollux at all—)

Karen: WOAH, is that one of the Star Celebrate costumes???

Yachiyo: W—... Jeez, Karen-san!?!?

Karen: Heheheh! Surprised to see little ol' me? Shiori-chan told me you were near, so I thought I'd visit.

I knocked, but nobody answered, so I took a peek!

Yachiyo: That's not~... Why'd you come to Siegfeld?

Karen: What the what? I sent you a text, right??

I was all like, "Thanks for supervising my Taurus! I'd love to talk more about the constellations, so I'll be there!!"

Yachiyo: I didn't get... a text...?

Karen: Huh. HUH.

HUUUUUUUUUUUH????

I'm sorry!! I sent it to Hikari-chan by mistake!!!!!

I got a reply like, "I'll wait. No need to inform beforehand." and I came right here.. but...

Yachiyo: So your first instinct's to always text Hikari-san?

*giggle* That's so cute...! You two must be really good friends♪

Karen: I'm sooo sorry... Now I made Hikari-chan wait too... Maybe I should write up an apology...!?

Yachiyo: Do as you like~ I'm still checking over the costumes, so it'll be a short while before we get to discuss the constellations anyway.

[Some time later]

Karen: *sigh*... There's the metric ton of "Karen, you numbskull"...

Yachiyo: Done with my work♪ So, did Hikari-san forgive you?

Karen: Yup. She said she'll forgive me if I could withstand polishing my tiptoe—... my pointe technique!

Ugh... Hikari-chan's a harsh teacher, though, so! I'll have to prepare myself!!

Yachiyo: ...Sure is nice to feel that way.

Karen: Feel that way...? In what way?

Yachiyo: It's nice to feel supported by your loved ones, I mean!♪

Karen: Ohhh! That! I know right!? Makes me feel like I'm over the moon~!

Karen (Io): "That's why I, Taurus, would like to get a return on that favor.

Tell me the story of you twins, closer than anyone else."

Yachiyo: Aha... ha... Isn't it a bit sudden...

Karen: WDYM?

Yachiyo: Thing is... I'm still a bit unsure on how to play Gemini, so...

Karen: Oh, I see... Being asked to do an etude without a script's always a surprise!

Yachiyo: Exactly. "The constellations shining in the sky will lead you, shooting star, to tomorrow..."

Karen: Mhm! A story about us giving our most precious things, then leading the shooting star onto the next constellation!!

Yachiyo: This "most precious thing" business is a bit vague to me.

Based on the star sign, sure, but then it's up to the performer to choose... You feel?

Karen: Yeah...

Oh, I got it!! If you're having so much trouble, how about we try consulting Gemini directly?

Yachiyo: ...

Karen: Sooo from what I remember, the story of Gemini is—

Yachiyo: ....Originally based on two sons of Zeus, Castor and Pollux.

They were very close, but the elder Castor was only a mere mortal. Pollux, the younger, was blessed with the power of the gods, giving him immortality.

In battle, Castor loses his life...

Karen: WHAT?!?

Yachiyo: Lotsa twists and turns in this tale~ Then, in mourning, Pollux begged to his father Zeus:

Yachiyo (Pollux): "I implore you, deal me the same death as my dear brother. We were born together, so I plead to you, for us to die together as well—"

Yachiyo: Touched, Zeus took half of Pollux's divinity and ascended the brothers to the heavens... Theeeee end♪

Karen: O-Oh...

Yachiyo: Ahahaha! A beautiful tale, is it not♪ The love between two brothers is super—

Karen: Y... Yachiyo-chan?

Yachiyo-chan... why are you crying?

Yachiyo: Huh...?

Even if Thousands of Years Were to Pass[1]

Yachiyo: I'm... crying...?

O-Oh!! I am!! Why the hell am I crying on my own... Ahaha, sorry, this is embarrassing~

Karen: Yachiyo-chan...

Yachiyo: Um. You see... I'm not really the type to discuss things like these with others... so I end up just monologuing.

There's another precious half of "me".

She'd stand on stage beside me when nobody would... Ever since I was a kid, she guided and protected my heart.

Karen: Just like me and Hikari-chan!!!

Yachiyo: Wow~ Do we really compare to such a lovely relationship?

But, yes, close enough... She was just that important to me, like she was the stage itself.

A lot's happened, though. Now she's watching me from the audience—

Karen: The audience... So she isn't with you on stage anymore?

Yachiyo: Yeah! I've made some great friends, and I've found the place where I belong, so she conceded "that" spot in my life to them.

But that's exactly why—I'm scared.

Karen: Scared?

Yachiyo: After staying with me all these years, I wonder how she looks at me now.

From the audience, she can see me. But when I'm on stage? It's so bright, I can't even see her... That's why I'm so scared.

Karen: ...

Yachiyo: Is it really okay for me to be the one enjoying these brilliant days?

For me to be surrounded by my friends? Clashing with them?

For me to be the only one moving on with my life?

To die together, like Castor and Pollux... Isn't that what we should've been?

I just can't help but worry... How does she view me now? Is she angry, perhaps—

Karen: YOU'RE FINE!!!!!!!

Yachiyo: Huh...?

Karen: You said she's like the stage itself for you, right? That must definitely 100% mean.... You're fine!!!!!

'Cuz I know Yachiyo-chan loves the stage VERY, VERY MUCH!!!!!

Yachiyo: Y-You're being pushy...

I'm just saying she might hate me now. If my "most precious" feels that way, I...

Karen (Io): "Let's hear it, then, Gemini... From the other you."

Yachiyo: !!

Karen (Io): "Your story, your way of life... Tell me this, and the 'most precious thing' born from it."

Yachiyo: ...I—

???? (Castor): "You wanna know how I feel about my li'l bro? I'm MAD! He's being an idiot!"

Karen (Io): "Of course, that anger..."

???? (Castor): "I knew he wanted to die with me! I know!! But I wanted him to LIVE FOR ME!!"

Karen (Io): "*chuckle*... Just as I thought!"

???? (Castor): "He better get that in his thick little head, yeah? I know he can, worrying over me so damn much."

"But y'know... It cheers me up, seeing him look at me that way."

Karen (Io): "It does?"

???? (Castor): "Whenever that kid thinks of me, our hearts begin to form a harmony.

We are a pair of stars. Do you know the name of the radiance that unites two into one?"

Karen (Io): "This radiance... Could you tell me?"

???? (Castor): "*giggle* Yes! Of course, I'll tell you. Our most precious thing to give to the Shooting Star—"

???? & Yachiyo (Castor & Pollux): "Its name... is love."

This is related to Yachiyo and Chitose's names. Yachiyo means "eternity" while Chitose means "a thousand years". The "chi" in both names is the 千 (thousand) in the title of the bond story.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

I was a brilliant kid from the age of 8, 9, 10 years old. I was doing slide rules. I was doing logarithms, tables, and stuff like that. I was doing solid geometry when I was in 7th, 8th grade. I was always a super-smart kid, a little bit like the Matt Damon character in Good Will Hunting. I was a working class kid. I didn't have a lot of polish, but I had real sharp smarts.

My life took a various turn. I was a father at 18 and at 19 and at 21, and dropped out of college. I bounced around community college, got discovered—like Matt Damon in the movie—ended up at Northwestern University where I was a wizard. I got all As in everything: math and economics and philosophy and German. And I was taking graduate-level courses in mathematics and in economics when I was an undergraduate at the college. I was taking the PhD level courses in these technical subjects and acing them. I went to MIT, where I was at the top of my class again.

Forgive this, but I want you to try to understand the point. My genius—yes, I said it—my gift, my extraordinary abilities were what carried me forward, notwithstanding the vicissitudes of racism and discrimination in America. To have that minimized by somebody presuming that, “Oh, you didn't get to MIT without affirmative action” ... and it's actually true. I didn't get to MIT without affirmative action, because every black person is going to be the beneficiary of affirmative action whether they ask for it, need it, or not.

I had a fellowship. Pretty much everybody in the first year PhD class at MIT had a fellowship of one kind or another. Mine came from the Ford Foundation Doctoral Program for Minority Students in Economics. So it was an affirmative action fellowship. MIT had three positions set aside in its entering class. They usually would have 25, but for a few years they had 28. And those three were to be black students of the greatest promise. I was one of them in the year that I came in, even though I didn't need to be in that box in order to get in because I had As in everything. In the PhD level courses I was taking at Northwestern, my professors were writing letters saying that I was the best student they'd ever seen. Because I was.

Again, I ask for your forbearance as I toot my own horn here. Goddammit, don't dishonor my amazing achievement by chalking it up to favoritism! I resent it. I don't like it. I don't need it. I don't want it. That's not a political position. I'm defending my own dignity here. So you gonna call me a sellout because I'm defending my dignity? Fuck you! That's my position

John McWhorter: Glenn, they're gonna use that.

It was not a performance. It was honest. Please, will you get your hands off of my dignity? Let me succeed or fail based upon my abilities. Don't patronize me, goddamnit!

[ladyofspoons]

hmmm… the thoughts…

executive dysfunction time…

got lots to do today… had plenty of time to do it when i woke up…

aaaaand all i have done is sleep and eat and scroll and play a little viddo game

but because i’ve managed to play game, and drive to get food

makes me feel that perhaps i’m not really depressed or executively dysfunctional

and perhaps

merely lazy

perhaps because i was able to do something

even if it wasn’t the thing i needed to do

but because something got done

then perhaps i could have done something else

and then maybe

i could have taken care of myself a little

done the dishes, taken a shower, brushed my teeth, put on lotion, cook, do the homework that has been sitting there waiting for me for a week now and is about to become overdue even though it’s the first assignment of the semester and it’s super easy and i could do it at any time

i could do it at any time

i could

do it at any time

but i didn’t

because i’m not really trying, evidently, then i must be unworthy to claim that i’m depressed

i don’t want to be one of those people claiming mental illness for clout or internet points or attention

but i do want attention

just, the kind of attention i want is not the kind that i need, and it feels unearned, because nothing has gotten done today

i’ve lain on the bed, and on the couch, and on the bed, and on the couch

and on the bed

and on the couch

and now here i am

back in bed

writing what might qualify as a poem, but certainly lacks any polish or flavor

it wasn’t necessary supposed to be one, a poem

just a text post

maybe something akin to a journal entry

and there’s no reason, either, for me to be feeling this way

nothing went wrong today

nothing except my brain i suppose

or did i imagine that?

for attention

as an excuse

another way out of the things i don’t want to do

i want somebody to pull me out of this, but i can’t accept their help

what have i done to earn it? i didn’t even try today, why should i ask someone else’s energy to do my tasks

and yes, my friends will probably rush to help

but i’ll never feel like i deserved it

here i am

laying in bed

cuddled up to a plush shark, covered in blankets, head resting soft on a pile of pillows

feeling alone

and cold

running out the clock, until i have to go to work

and using that obligation as an excuse for failing to make any progress whatsoever

my partner, my friends, maybe even my parents will all ask me what i did today, how i’m doing

and i’ll tell them lie to them

like i always do

“oh you know, i’m fine,” i laugh lie

“just busy,” another lie

“lots of work,” a half truth “so i couldn’t finish that schoolwork,”

that chore,”

that task,”

that thing that would help,”

that thing that you’ve been asking about for months,”

every time, a lie

or at least that’s what it feels like

but it’s second nature at this point

as natural as breathing, hell, moreso

why

i don’t want to hurt these people

even posting this will be a challenge

i know they’ll see it

and they care about me, and want to help

but if i let them solve my short term problems, the long term ones pile up

i’m so used to lying about what’s happening in my life, just to avoid disappointing the people who care about me, who have invested time and emotion and resources and love, into me

and i don’t want them to give up

to know that it’s all been a waste

to understand that while there is, something wrong with me, something broken inside that makes life just that much harder

i have a hard time noticing

amidst my own self sabotage

“i’m broken,” i lie to myself “i can’t do this as easily as everyone else,”

an illusory comfort, allowing laziness, forgiving my complacency and removing any reason to change

“i’m fine”

incapable of distinguishing lie from truth within my own mind, i tell these people

and greatest sorrow, they believe me

i tell them i’m not fine enough for them to believe it when i finally say that i am

not a single person has ever noticed

not even myself

[kagedbird]

Ao3 20 questions!

Tagged by: @azures-grace I tag: @bamsara @argisthebulwark and anyone else! (I can't remember who writes solely on Tumblr or not, sorry for not tagging you if you do write on Ao3 as well!!)

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

-Currently 16.

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

-Currently 800,424. (Will change for sure on the 15th haha.)

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

-Skyrim, Five Nights at Freddy's / Security Breach, Undertale, Divinity Original Sin 2, and Baldur's Gate 3.

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

-Precious People, Four Makes a Family, That Little Thread, My Neighbor Mr. Roboto, and Forgive Me, for I Have Sinned. (Greatest to least in the top five.)

5 – Do you respond to comments?

-I try to respond to every comment I can, but some I just don't know how to respond to! I'm mentally kissing every commenter on the head though. Mwah.

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

-Angstiest ending? I don't know if I've ended anything super angsty, despite my love for the genre. I prefer hurt/comfort. Can't say I can answer this one.

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

-Oh, That Little Thread for sure. But only because TESSDE isn't remotely finished haha. But I'm still very proud of how TLT came out. :)

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

-I have had a stray hate comment here and there, but I just meme and dab on the haters until they die from their own cringeness. #HatersLoveMe

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

-...The smut kind? I'm not sure I understand. Read 'You're a Feisty One, Aren't You? I Like That', if you need specifics, I guess. (Only if you are above age obviously.)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

-Oh my god I used to on FFNET. I don't think it's crazy, but even before I discovered FFNET, my friend got me into writing crossovers, and it was a massive Inuyasha, Fruits Basket, Code Geass, and Death Note combination with self inserts. I miss it, it was a good stupid time, haha.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

-I've had people try to tell me they can't get writing down correctly, and oh, would you mind helping me write this out? What about this? Until slowly I'm literally writing their story and they're POSTING IT ONLINE. ON Ao3/FFNET. LIKE. A PARAGRAPH AT A TIME.

INSANITY.

But also I was one of the first few people who had the Ao3 scalpers target their fics, but I have no idea if someone is out there on Wattpad or something using my shit. I don't self search, so I do not know.

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

-Nope!

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

-Yes! Not on Ao3 though. (Ah good old days of middle school and writing dumb things with friends.)

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

-I'm a self shipper by trade, I'll admit it. But I was a very big Sesshoumaru / Kagome shipper in my baby years. Now I lean more towards Loid / Yor. Love those idiots.

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

-TOO MAN TO NAME. I REGRET LEAVING ANY FIC UNDONE, BUT I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GO BACK. The past is in the past and it's time is over, unfortunately.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

-Focusing on characterizations and researching accuracies for making things logical not only in the fantasy realm but also reality. I love combining the two and giving people a little educational lesson along side their story time. It pleases me to teach others new things and myself. I also think my pacing has gotten a lot better over the years.

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

-I tend to structure things differently than most people, and genuine writing formats— even using em dashes, I never learned until this year the difference between it and a hyphen— so it comes across as lesser than other people's writing, I think. Less polished. I like bouncing things around textually, having breaks in spots to let the mind "breathe" in between words or phrases to try and give it a bigger impact, but it weakens actual structures sometimes.

That and word choices. I'll be stuck for ages on what word to use. I hate repeating words or phrases, so it'll take me longer than necessary to just choose a damn word.

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

-I've done it many times and think it's fine! I use translators because I am unfortunately only educated in English (and my brain has difficulties learning other languages), but I try my best and do ask around friends if things are accurate if they speak the language.

If you're not sure what it says, just translate it through a friend or Google. Or, read the bottom AN to see if the author translated it for you. I grew up with American's using broken Japanese in their fanfics, you think I'd see dual languages any different? Lol.

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

-Inuyasha? Naruto? Crossover? I don't remember!

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

-Biased. 'The Elder Scrolls Skyrim: DragonBard Edition', otherwise known as TESSDE. It's my bread and butter, my longest length story, and one I would die to complete. We're technically half way there in terms of arcs, but definitely not in chapters, haha. I look forward to the day it's complete, and I hope others enjoy it too.

-

Below are the questions to copy and paste for yourself!

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

5 – Do you respond to comments?

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16 – What are your writing strengths?

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

[duskydrawz]

It's a little late, but happy New Year Everyone! I hope you enjoyed the holidays, whatever you and your culture celebrates. It's the time of the year where we go over goals and make new ones! I had a few art goals for last year; > One full art piece a month (continued from last year) > Aim to draw more full-body pieces > 3 sketches a month I did manage to achieve the first two, though I never posted a finished December piece here and instead kept it for personal use. I'm fine with that, I'll forgive the difficult last few months I had and try and be kind to myself. As for the sketches, I have to confess, I didn't keep up with those past March. I think it's actually quite challenging to keep up when you don't have a dedicated theme or idea each month. I also got a bit conscious about posting them when I'm still not super happy with my understanding of human anatomy. I think I'll re-set the goal for this year, but not put the pressure of posting on myself until year's end. Some goals for this blog for the year ahead: > I'd like to do more new comics! (at least 4 this year would be nice, double last year's) > I want my months to have different arts, instead of only doing love live icons / birthday pieces. I want to move away from those to give myself chance to do more with the characters. > I want to post more sketches, or less-polished drawings in general. I think I can get more done if I don't have to worry about it all being perfect and finished, and I have some fun ideas I just never get around to being able to do otherwise. I also want to continue trying to branch out with poses, and more full-body (or at least not just face or bust-upwards art) this year. (It would also be really neat if we could get up to 100 followers! But that's a little out of my control.) We'll see what the tides bring, though hopefully this year will be better than the last. I so very much appreciate everyone who has supported and joined my blog this past year <3 As well as those of you who stuck with me when some months have been on the quieter side. I love drawing, and trying to be consistent with a full time job on the side is difficult. But I don't feel like this blog is hard work. It's always just been a place for my casual enjoyment to post and challenge myself when I can. I think that's important. Anyways, sappy things aside, may your 2024 be better than the last year. And may you achieve all the goals you want to in the continuous strive for improvement! - Dusky x

[mondstadtlover6000]

hi, big big fan! super curious what your writing process is like! are you a edit as you go along or write the entire thing first and then edit

hi thank you for the question! okay uh i don't actually edit my fanfics. everything i post is a raw first draft. BUT i promise i actually have an interesting (to me at least) process even with that! i'm a very organized writer. i keep outlines for everything, although for fanfics my process is a lot more casual compared to my originals. first of all, i have a queue/to do list of projects i'll be writing in order, which is a lot less fancy than it sounds; it's just bulletpointed list with rough months/timelines attached to them. for example, i'll show mine right now (for the rest of the year):

herc mako fic (late oct)

[original] tv show episodes (six) (oct-dec)

[original] screenplay edit (end of oct)

[original] novel draft 2 (early november)

[original] screenplay (mid to late november)

connalia scott pilgrim au (november)

katie pjosceu fic (december)

now i usually have really high expectations for myself so i'll likely only get around 50% to 75% of that done but whatever. before i start writing anything, i write out an outline: for fanfics it's more likely to be a bulletpointed list with just the scenes i want to write/emotional points i want to hit, but for originals i'll go more in depth (sometimes i mark scenes down to the day and time of day, explain what happens in every scene, etc). sometimes i organize things a lot earlier and write an outline up to months ahead when i eventually get around to writing that specific project and sometimes i outline right before i start or even after i've written a few thousand words of the project and have gotten for a feel for it. it depends project to project but that's my typical process.

for editing, like i said, i don't edit for fanfics. i do fanfics for fun so once i'm done one draft i immediately just post--i could be putting more effort and giving you guys more polished stuff to read but forgive me, my desires are not as such. but for originals i do things in drafts and edit after! i'm a personal believer that the edit-as-you-go approach just slows you down.

usually with originals, i take my hands off the project once i'm done a first draft and also make sure to note down any immediate big changes i see. i'll also reread the first draft a few times until i've gathered a list of big plot changes down to minute little details. once i've got that, i go back and redo the entire outline top to bottom to tweak order of scenes, add new ones, delete ones, etc. then i write the second draft--not from scratch exactly? i start afresh but i consult the first draft and a lot of stuff gets copypasted into draft 2 because if it isn't broken... don't fix it.

i've never actually gotten to draft 3 or farther to line edits before but so far my process for that has been: send to my sisters and get feedback; make (yet another) bulletpointed list of revisions from major to minor; edit everything. and then afterwards i hope to do some final surface edits to ensure all characters stay in character throughout dialogue, the continuity is fine, and there aren't any flaws and errors. and ofc at one point i have to chop things down because i am very verbose (my 2nd draft for my novel rn is 190,000 words!!! wow!!!!) but like i stated i haven't gotten to that stage yet.

sorry i yapped for way too long for this question but i hope that gave you some insight! even though my editing process is about originals instead of fanfics. tl;dr: i really like bulletpointed lists.

[home-at-nine]

Chapter Four — Jerry

“Reality is merely an illusion; albeit a persistent one". - Albert Einstein

I like to live my life like it's a sitcom. It feels like that gives it more meaning. Sitting at a bar at eleven o'clock in the morning might make someone question their life choices, but it's just slightly funnier with a laugh track behind it.

Mind dropping a fake chuckle for me? Attagirl. Thank you. Or fuck you. Either way, I can't tell but know that i feel the utmost gratitude or the deepest hatred.

i look up at the pretty girl with the platinum blond hair and blue eyes on the other side of the wooden bar. This place has a very *vintage*(?) vibe to it. I feel like it is. It smells like coffee mixed with some fine whiskey. With a hint of vanilla? Huh.

The girl is Grace. She does not remember me. That's good. Last time I was here, I was 16, just after I graduated high school. She has more piercings now. A few more tattoos, it seems like. I do too. I think she knew I was 16. Was she 19 then? Her skin was slightly tanned, still is. Her bag is sitting by the corner of the bar, still. Jerry hated that. It's new, it's bigger. Still stuffed with books she loved. Is that Camus? I forgot how hot this girl was. Hm... The First Man. That's funny, are you sending jokes my way too, now? She still had that last time.

Don't make fun of me. This girl is beautiful. It'd be hard to forget her, even after the three years. I think she got a few more piercings–

"Hello? Are you okay?" I feel myself jolt in the suddenness. My hand grips around the glass in my hands. "Would you like another?"

She's been calling my name for a second. "Uh... yes. Sorry, I'm not screwed, I was just-", I'm scrambling for a way to cover my ass. Help.

"Distracted, huh?" Grace puts down the glass she was polishing and reaches for what was in my hand. She pours me another glass of the Macallan. I don't mind the price. Why? Because I know I'm not paying. You'll see what I mean. Grace here didn't card me. She's pretty though, so it's okay, we'll forgive that and move on. Especially considering this part of town. She's probably the nicest person to make a mistake in a 2-block radius.

"Yeah. Well, no. I don't get distracted, just focused on the wrong thing. I saw your book, by the way."

"Oh yeah, you read Camus?"

"I'm a big fan of his work. Got super excited about reading it in school, it kept me up all night." That's a bad joke. But for some reason, she chuckles. Oh god I hope I don't have to open my mouth again. Come on, throw me a fucking bone.

The door jingles and I hear a pair of sneakers shuffling through. The sneakers squeak to a stop.

Thank you.

"Kid-" Jerry's got that look in his eyes again. Like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His voice squeaked the word like he saw me coming but didn't expect it so soon.

"How you been?" I flash him a smile. I don't want this to get bad if it doesn't need to. I just need him to not default on this.

He spins around and reaches for the handle of the door. Okay. Well, it's getting annoying already. I throw the glass at the back of his head, it cracks as it hits him and he gives out a quick scream.

Grace's eyes widen, "OH, FUCK?".

Jerry hits his knees, his hand still on the brass knob of very beautifully painted door. Woah, what color is that? Wait, Grace. I turn my head to her.

"Don't worry, he'll be okay. I just need him to not... run. Y'know?"

She looks like she takes a deep breath and nods. Welp. 3 years of thinking someone's attractive for it to go down the damn drain in less than a minute. Great job, Cha-... Atlas. That's the new name.

I look towards Jerry, "Get your hand off the damn handle, Jerry. Look at me.".

His head is turning, though it's a bit slow. Hm, I should let him know to not play with me right now. I want to breed a trusting relationship. But is Jerry the kind of person to value that? Or would he try to take advantage of it? Wouldn't fear better serve me with him? I can't afford this right now.

The next few years will not be as easy as they would've been before. I need her to have a better and more secure life than I will.

I kick Jerry in the face as he turns his head back. "Where's my money? Where's my shit? Where's Derek? And where is the tip jar that used to be here?"

Jerry takes a second. He's reeling from the surprise of the kick more than the pain. But I know him better.

"FUCK. Spencer, I'll fucking kill you!"

Well, we can't have that now, can we? I get ready to kick him again, but first, I look over to Grace. She doesn't seem as surprised anymore. Is this a common occurrence? He have sharks on him? Do they come here to kick his ass a lot? I notice his right occipital is lightly bruised. Fuck. His goddamn gambling? Did he pawn my shit? FUCK.

"Take a deep breath. You still have them?" I give him a second to recover. Jerry is a slightly out of shape man in his early 50s. He could take most people on, I won't lie. But not me. Jerry is already scared of me. The issue with this man is that he'll never win a fight because he's decided the result in his head before. You don't call Jerry to back you up in a fight. But you can call him to take care of your shit. Last I was here, you could trust him to respect the value of personal property. Did he relapse to gambling?

"I do, I do. Fuck, I still have it." He says. In the second it took me to think, he's already got his arms up to keep me away. Good, at least he's livelier than last time. Though I guess he was getting his ass kicked last time too.

"Then why did you try to run?"

"Alex told me you were in town. I just ran before I could tell it was you, I thought you were one of Rey's men."

Bullshit. But I'll take his work for it. I just want to grab my shit and walk away.

"Where is it?"

"Under the floorboards, seat 4."

I rush to kick him again.

"WAIT WAIT," he stammers, "ask Grace. She knows. She'll take you to it. There's a crowbar under the bar too."

I look at Grace and crack an awkward smile and, for some goddamn reason, I'm throwing her a thumbs up??

She looks used to this. God, I hope that motherfucker hasn't pawned off my shit. Jerry slowly gets up and begins walking to the back door.

"If you run, I'll find you." That should be enough warning to him. He raises his hand as a gesture of what I think is reluctant acknowledgement. I turn to Grace.

"This happen often?"

"Once a month or so, I guess.". She looks annoyed more than anything.

"It doesn't bother you? You've been working here three years. How long has this been happening?"

"Around 6 months."

I take the crowbar from her hand and move the fourth couch from the entrance to the bar. There's a floorboard with a few chips on it. That's the one.

I grab my things from under the floorboards. A black duffel bag. There we go. The bag I put together seeing my life coming to where it is now. The day I'd need money, a way to make more, and some things I just wanted safe.

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

I gave her my number oh my fucking god I gave her my number oh my fucking god I gave her my number oh my fucking god I gave her my number oh my fucking god I gave her my number oh my fucking god I gave her my number oh my fucking god.

I look at the taxi driver in front of me. "Right here. Thank you."

I gave Grace a way to call me if she ever needed it. Or Jerry. Told her the name's actually Atlas, but that Jerry could keep calling me Spencer for all I cared.

I walk in and see Frog on the couch. She's watching TV. She's wearing a shark onesie I got her for her birthday last year. I try and keep the duffel out of her sight and quickly work my way upstairs.

"Ch-... Atlas!" I hear her yell from downstairs. Hm. We'll have to open this later. I kick it under the bed and look at the clock. Barely past noon. I have another few hours before I have to meet Will's coworker at Jerry's.

[stevn93]

Not as soon as I anticipated, but we meet yet again old friend. How have you been?? Yeah it's hard to keep up and it's hard to adjust. I saw you are trying to improve though. Me? Let's not talk about that. Fine I can be honest, truth is I still tell people I'm fantastic or it's another day in paradise when the reality is I don't know if I'm OK. So much in my head... I...my wife I'm pretty sure she's joking when she calls me gay, but sometimes I'm not sure, I know I'm not totally straight. I spent 2 years on the down low with a guy and only 2 people that weren't me or him know and one is my wife and that telling was far from great, anyway we were both from religious homes and had to keep everything hidden. And on the note of religion I think it has led to some of my issues. I don't know what I believe, I know what I have been told to believe my whole life, but I don't know what I believe. I was raised in a Seventh Day Adventist home, as was my mother, and her parents and I know my great grandparents were so it's a long standing thing in my family. My friend was from a equally long line of deep south Baptist beliefs. The SDA beliefs are much more strict and holds to the old mosaic law. I was 30 at my first sampling of bacon. Now crazy as it sounds I work for a Christian based non-profit and have been there 4 years now. I am a maintenance technician and also do grounds care. I am on call and we rotate weekends so I work some Saturdays and Fridays after sunset which is a ticket to the bad place. Not that having had relationships with another guy wouldn't also be a reason for that,but sometimes I still have a desire for it. I still have to keep things hidden because it could be grounds for dismissal from my job. My job is super flexible with days off and hours so I can raise my kids and I know nowhere else would be so forgiving to me. I wasn't careful one day and was sighted in the building with my Proud Furry hoodie on(I had gotten diesel fuel on my other it was the one I had in my truck)so that combined with the nail polish has left people suspect. I have to wonder sometimes if my wife believes I'm more gay than straight or if I want something else. She would be the one to know as she knows more about me and my past than my parents, a therapist would have a field day but until then I will have to settle with emptying my mind here. Have spent the last several nights after she goes to sleep sitting on the shower floor for an hour or two and just letting the water rain down. I don't know if it helps but the rain is still too cold for such things. There is so much I don't understand like pronouns and transjender, I was never exposed to things largely due to religious sheltered life. I have finally encountered a person who is non-binary and it's hard to remember to use they/them and people call you out for you and tell you you don't care about others or you would just change, but I was programed to think, act and talk this way for 30 years! Ask a smoker who has smoked 5 years to quit cold turkey. My grandfather on my Dad's side used the N word and did so openly, but his best friend was an old colored gentleman Mr.Milton and every day before he ate his dinner rain shine or hurricane he would take him a hot plate of food. If you didn't know and didn't see you'd thought him a racist white supremacist, but it wasn't the case. People talk about care but are so quick to judge or tell you how you should feel... That's part of why my wife knows things my parents don't. I won't elaborate much but I took a problem to people you were supposed to trust and it went just as I was told it would. So I made changes and because I was young and of such a light build I likely stunted my growth a smidgen and damaged my joints. I don't know why my wife stays when I'm so damaged. I wish I could see what she does or did see. She still spends a lot of time on her phone and I asked her to talk to me yesterday and she didn't put down her phone. Some days are so much more a struggle than others. I'll see you later old friend. Thanks for being here.

[quoththraven-nevermore]

《"Forgive Me for My Wrongs, I have Just Begun"》

◇

"The eyes of a psychopath will take away an innocent soul". As a kid, Brielle heard those words from her father almost daily. When she thought about it as an adult, it was odd because her father /was/ a psychopath, but then there was a lot of truth in that statement because the eyes of a psychopath /had/ taken away an innocent soul; they had taken away her innocent soul when she was just a child. The middle child in her family, which was her, had turned out to be what other kids called "crazy, psycho, messed up, 'insane in the membrane', morbid, mean", and so many other terms that she honestly didn't care about by that point in her life. Being a CIA Director meant that she had to keep things in order, she had to keep the agents in their place, and she had to carry on the wishes of the late Ward Abbott. He had wanted more agents like Bourne, "super agents" that had almost super human strength and could bulldoze through literally anything without feeling a thing. She had been working with techs in the Langley base to perfect an operation that had previously left Abbott and the CIA chasing after Bourne; Operation Treadstone. The same expectation had been made for the New York base, but the Director there didn't have the gumption to rise up to that challenge the way Brielle did, and she rolled her eyes and scoffed as she thought about New York. Director Conner McAlister had lost agents, some of which ended up in Virginia, while also having failed to get his hands dirty in order to do what was expected, what needed to be done. Instead, he'd ran off like a scared little boy and left New York abandoned after getting attacked by three rogue agents.

"He's spineless. The man doesn't have a fuckin' backbone, let alone any leadership skills. Jesus fuckin' Christ."

She shook her head in disgust as she stopped and looked over the information being shown on the big screen in the conference room. Rolling her eyes again, Brielle stood up out of the chair she was sitting in and walked over to stand in front of the screen, looking over numbers and information from the other base.

"There's /one/ agent in each of the two groups that really stood out, and he's here now. Director McAlister doesn't have jack shit on us."

A malicious laugh slid past slightly pursed lips, and another disgusted head shake followed as the Langley Director continued to take in the information being presented to her. There was an agent in the younger group who was gradually, but also at a fairly impressive rate, working his way up the score charts and Director Hadley couldn't help but notice. A long, skinny finger with bright red polish on the tip pointed up at the screen as she spoke again.

"This one, though. He seems to be improving...which, I guess, says that McAlister isn't a /complete/ loser. But I still meant what I said. The man has no fuckin' gumption, and look at where his agents go when they leave him."

Putting her hand down at her side, and with a swish of long, dark tresses, Brielle turned to address the others in the room with a sarcastic sneer etched on her face as she spoke again.

"And they were weak when they got here. Clearly, the people in New York don't know what the hell they're doing. He loses agents better than he trains them, and they end up here...or trying to kill him."

The last part made a dark laugh slip past blood red lips, and her eyes cast a sinister glint as she thought about that last statement. Director McAlister couldn't even handle his own agents and got the hell kicked out of him by a few of them, which made him seem even weaker in her eyes, and she hadn't thought that was possible until right then. As far as Brielle was concerned, a Director needed to be able to keep their agents in line and show them where they fell on the chain of command, and if they couldn't handle that then they were a weak Director. From what she had seen from Director McAlister, she wasn't at all impressed and thought he was too soft, which in turn told her that he was weak and couldn't handle his agents. He was a pathetic excuse for a Director in Hadley's eyes, and even just calling him a Director was a joke to her. He wasn't a Director, he didn't know what the hell he was doing, and Brielle could tell that he didn't.

"The only thing he's got going for him is that he's easy on the eyes. Nothing else, though, which is a damn shame but is also hilarious. I'll bet he cracks, if he isn't already dead. Either that or he's got one of his weak agents doing his dirty work for him like the spineless asshole he is."

Brielle guffawed and rolled her eyes again before walking out of the conference room, the only sound that could be heard in the halls, besides the sound of agents in the training room working on their skills and training, being Louis Vuitton heels clicking against the floor as she made her way toward the IT office. One of the newer interns, Logan Barker, was gathering intel and finding escape routes for the older agents that Hadley had out in the field completing a mission, and glanced back at her when he heard her come in. He went slightly wide eyed and flinched a bit before turning back around and getting back to work. He was scared of Brielle, it was plain as day that he had been since the beginning, but she just snorted in amusement and shook her head, focusing on the records that she had gone in there to find. Digging through, she eventually found the record she had been looking for and pulled it out of the filing cabinet she'd been rifling through, then smirked as she read the name on the file.

"Madigan, Leander Blaine."

[jcmarchi]

No Rest For The Wicked: Moon Studios On Killing Its Ori Perfectionism And Being Okay With Early Access Issues

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/no-rest-for-the-wicked-moon-studios-on-killing-its-ori-perfectionism-and-being-okay-with-early-access-issues/

No Rest For The Wicked: Moon Studios On Killing Its Ori Perfectionism And Being Okay With Early Access Issues

No Rest for the Wicked hits Early Access on PC on April 18, but ahead of that release, the upcoming action RPG from Ori and the Blind Forest/Will of the Wisps developer Moon Studios is gracing the latest cover of Game Informer. After checking the game out for a few hours alongside some of the leads at Moon Studios in Vienna, Austria, last month, cover story writer and Game Informer editor Marcus Stewart and I have a pretty good idea about what to expect from No Rest for the Wicked’s early access release – you can read my preview thoughts here and his cover story here.

We’re both excited for the release, too. It’s a fun game so far, and it’s a unique approach for Moon Studios. No Rest for the Wicked tech and production director and Moon Studios co-founder Gennadiy Korol and studio CEO and creative director Thomas Mahler are self-admitted perfectionists when it comes to game development, and I was curious how that works with an Early Access release where bugs, issues, and more are typically present.

[embedded content]

It turns out, it required a shift in the entire team’s mindset. 

“It’s really strange, right?” Mahler tells me. “It’s almost like being naked in the buff. As artists, you’re always kind of like scared to death, seeing shots and seeing stuff on screen, it’s like, ‘Oh my god, I see all these issues.’ But I think with games of this complexity, there’s just no other way [than an Early Access release]. Either you make smaller things and you don’t dare to take those risks, and then you can perfect it, or you can make a game of this scale and you’re okay with, ‘Okay, not everything is going to be immediately perfect.’ But I think that’s okay because, over time, it will be.”

Mahler says as long as the game is fun, people will be more willing to forgive potential issues. No Rest for the Wicked launching into Early Access first helps, too, where players (ideally) understand the game is a work-in-progress. He also believes a shift is happening in games where people do still want beautiful games with “crazy graphics and so on,” but more than that, they just want something that, first and foremost, is fun.

“I think we can do both,” he adds. “I think it’s interesting, though, that the biggest games out there are often not the ones that are technically the most crazy ones. You see Fortnite and Minecraft and so on, which aren’t pushing crazy boundaries in terms of tech necessarily – they’re just really fun to play.” 

Korol tells me it’s still a struggle at Moon Studios today to lay aside the perfectionist mindset applied to the Ori games to prepare for the work-in-progress release of No Rest for the Wicked. 

“I think we’re still such perfectionists and we want everything to be super dialed in, and it’s super fun for us to do,” he says. “But we also just have to accept that, yeah, you know what, it’s going to be on the market [as a work-in-progress], and we will learn a lot from it. On one hand, it’s terrifying; on the other hand, it’s really a relief because, as [Mahler] was saying, if something […] isn’t perfect, you can react quickly and adjust it.

“So I think we’re both excited and kind of terrified because we’re very much being vulnerable as artists, and we have to show basically almost unfinished art. That being said, I think there’s still a lot of polish that you cannot take out of us – we’re always going to be polishing and perfecting things.”

Korol notes the team feels No Rest for the Wicked will still be a polished title when it launches into Early Access next month, and after playing it for a few hours, I agree – it feels less like an active work-in-progress game and more like a mostly finished game the team wants feedback on before releasing more content. Of course, that’s not the case as there’s still plenty the team plans to add. Check out the Early Access roadmap for No Rest for the Wicked here. 

“It might have a few things that are just not quite there yet, as the game development process would have you, but I think every day we’re still in this tension of, ‘Ahhh, just ship it and we’ll see what happens,’ and, ‘Let’s perfect it,’ and […] that needle is going from side to side and we’re trying to stay in the middle and find a good balance.” 

No Rest for the Wicked hits Early Access on PC next month on April 18. 

While waiting for its launch, check out this feature breaking down the Early Access roadmap and endgame content of No Rest for the Wicked, and then check out more than 25 minutes of the game in our No Rest for the Wicked New Gameplay Today. 

You can learn even more about No Rest for the Wicked by checking out our features and videos rolling out over the coming weeks in our exclusive coverage hub below. 

[iturbide]

Honestly, bless you and your writing! Quality content fadgsaffsg-- But what if something super bad happened? Like the summoner somehow got captured by maybe Muspell (Surtr?) ovo I'm imagining the reasoning could be something like 'Askr is nothing without their precious summoner. Watch as their mockery of a kingdom falls apart even before I raze it to the ground.' kinda deal? How would Grima (and the whole castle by proxy I suppose) react? :>

quality content I am so flattered okay i’m still screaming about this

but okay you see this

this prompt

this set my brain on fire

so please forgive me for the fact that this monster is literally 6,500 words long and clocks in at a full 18 pages

If you’ve read anything else of mine that exceeds a thousand words, I like to change perspective sometimes.  For ease of understanding, asterisks (*) represent a perspective shift, dashes (-) represent a scene shift.  The first bit is there as a teaser, the part below the cut is significantly larger, you have been warned. 

Kiran was fairly certain by now that combat would never become familiar.  Nothing in their prior life could have prepared them for this, and even with as many fights as they’d seen (and between the conflict with first Embla, now Múspell, and all of the battles waged for practice in the Training Tower or sport in the Arena, they had seen a lot), it never really felt natural or right, sending soldiers – friends – onto the field to fight and bleed and sometimes fall for the Askran cause.  

Perhaps it was good that war did not sit well with them.  But regardless of their feelings, they had a job to do here, and they intended to do it well.  Anything to keep Askr from becoming a mirror of Nifl’s scorched wasteland: the further they traveled, the more wreckage they encountered, empty towns covered in snow that could not hide the burned remains of what had once been thriving communities.

As they continued their trek toward Nifl’s former capital, the Askran forces had run afoul of Múspell soldiers camped in one of the ruined villages.  Tagging Ike, they glanced briefly at his health, winced, and instead sent Lissa to heal him before ordering the young mercenary into a green mage’s line of fire.  Robin moved to intercept a mounted archer encroaching on their flank, sending a conspiracy of magic ravens tearing through the bowman’s defenses, while overhead a six-winged dragon banked slowly over the battle, awaiting his next command.

“We might need to retreat,” Kiran muttered as enemy reinforcements appeared upfield, well beyond their line of sight but easily tracked by the tactical map piped into their phone.  The axe fighter and the red manakete wouldn’t be so bad, with Alphonse and Sharena to intercept them, but the cavalier with the firesweep lance was another matter…

“The situation hardly seems so dire.”

The Summoner looked up at the hooded figure leaning over their shoulder, a wry smile twitching across their face.  “When did you take over as the Order’s tactician?”

Grima rolled his eyes, keeping easy pace with the Kiran as they picked their way through the remnants of the village square.  Several of the houses beyond remained more or less intact: the narrow streets would afford them a good choke point to deal with additional reinforcements, provided they could keep their ranks in order.  Humming thoughtfully to themselves as they climbed the steps of an abandoned home, Kiran drew the Askran fighters one by one across the on-screen grid, casting a quick glance back the way they’d come to see faintly glowing marks on the ground leading into the plaza.  They still had no idea what Breidablik had done to their phone, but it had certainly been effective.

“Incoming,” the Summoner noted, listening to the approaching hoofbeats.  “You ready?”

The fell dragon grinned, violet flames licking at his boots.  “Always,” he chuckled.  Though they both knew it wasn’t necessary, Kiran still moved Grima’s icon down the street as he advanced, the great six-winged form overhead descending to attack.  More reinforcements had appeared around the square, and the Summoner bit their lip as they sized up the new opposition, attempting to suss out the least risky solution to their predicament.  Tapping a few troops experimentally, Kiran gauged their chances…and, satisfied that they could pull off a defensive ploy, moved their allies one by one to engage the newly summoned soldiers, grinning as the blinding glow from Alphonse’s Sol momentarily brightened the overcast afternoon.  Grima’s dragon form screeched as an axe fighter filled the position occupied by the now fallen cavalryman, and the Summoner glanced briefly at the screen…only to chuckle at the damage predictor’s single-digit output.  Even with two hits, there was no chance they could take down the Wings of Despair.  Maybe they had been too hasty, considering retreat–

“Hello, Summoner.”

Kiran froze.

They hadn’t heard movement in the building behind them.  Hadn’t even considered that someone might be in there waiting – which was foolish, given the hard lesson they’d learned combatting the Black Knight not so long ago.  But they slowly raised their hands in the universal gesture of peaceful submission, taking great care not to disturb the blade pressed to their neck.

“Hello,” the Summoner replied, grateful that their voice did not quake the way the rest of them did.  “It’s Laegjarn, right?”

“I’m flattered that you recall my name,” the general chuckled.  “Perhaps you also recall my offer.”

“Surrender quietly and you won’t hurt me?”

“Your memory serves you well.  What say you?”

Kiran swallowed, feeling the sword’s edge burn their throat.  With the fight still raging out of sight in the plaza and Grima’s attention focused on the wyvern rider flying into range, no one had seen the enemy under their noses.  No help was coming.

Some tactician they turned out to be.

“I submit.”

“Very good.  Please disarm, Summoner.”

The blade at their throat relaxed an inch.  Nodding slightly, Kiran removed Breidablik from its place on their hip, kneeling to lay it on the stoop alongside their phone…

…and as they lingered, casting one last pleading look toward the fell dragon, they cranked the volume up to the max.  The music barely even reached their own ears over the pounding of their heart, and the general made no remark on it as the Summoner straightened.  

“Thank you for being so cooperative,” Laegjarn remarked, taking hold of Kiran’s arm and pulling them into the shadows of the scorched house.  The back half had collapsed, blackened beams jutting from the ash; the Múspell general paid the wreckage no mind as she guided them out onto the next road and past a fresh wave of soldiers.  “Retreat,” she ordered.  “We have what we came for.”

The troops pulled back from the village with shocking speed.  The Askran forces remained, perhaps confused by the swift turn of the tides, perhaps elated at their victory.  Kiran did not know.  They could only wonder what the Heroes would feel when they realized what they’d lost.

***

Grima frowned as the Múspell soldiers withdrew.  “Barely a challenge,” he snorted.

Something’s strange.

“I’m inclined to agree, given how fierce these forces are said to be–”

We were outnumbered.  There were still reinforcements coming in.  Why did they retreat?

He glanced up at the dragon floating lazily overhead.

A wyvern rider tried to stab you in the face.  I don’t think the dragon really made much of an impression.

A grin twitched across Grima’s face as he moved back down the icy road.  Kiran had left the doorstep; turning into the square, the fell dragon joined the other Heroes that had gathered, submitting without complaint to the fair-haired cleric’s treatment.

“I was worried for a moment there,” the Askran princess giggled.  “There were so many of them!”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Ike muttered, the words clearly at odds with the wounds the healer had yet to mend.

“What troubles me is how quickly the tides turned,” Alphonse said.  “Our enemy has shown fearsome skill at predicting our course of action and heading us off…they may seek to lure us into a trap.”

“Where’s Kiran?” Anna asked.  “Perhaps they’ll have some insight…”

All eyes turned to Grima.

A sense of disquieting unease crawled down his spine.  “I did not see them when the battle ended.  I thought they had joined you here.”

But scanning the worried Heroes that turned to look amongst each other, he found no trace of the Summoner.

“They can’t be far…right?” Lissa asked, wringing her staff between her hands.

“Let’s look for them.  Perhaps they were sidetracked investigating something,” Robin suggested, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his otherwise calm logic.

The fell dragon retraced his steps as the other members of the Order fanned out through the square, calling to the Summoner to reveal themselves.  Approaching the doorstep where he had left them, Grima narrowed his eyes at the open doorway leading into the wreckage.  Had it been ajar before?  If Kiran intended this to be some prank–

That isn’t like them.

As he drew close, an odd sound snared Grima’s attention: a muffled, melodic hum from somewhere nearby.  Tilting his head, he peered up and down the street, toward the scorched eaves, down to the snowy ground…

Oh, gods.

The fell dragon crouched, lifting the Summoner’s magic tile off the step.  Free of the ice, the song it sang grew louder, a tense battle hymn that set his nerves on edge.  “Kiran,” he called, taking to his feet and striding through the doorway, out through the collapsed rear wall, and across the packed snow left by the enemy’s retreat.

No response.

They won’t hear you.

“Kiran!” Grima snarled, loud enough to echo through the wreckage, distorting beyond recognition.

They can’t hear you.

“KIRAN!!”

The dragon overhead shrieked in unison with him, sending scores of dark birds rushing from the forests on every side.  But as the ringing in his ears at last abated, nothing more than silence greeted him.

They’re gone.

—

The Order had searched.  They had scoured the woods until the last light left the sky, following the tracks left by the Múspell soldiers in hopes of finding the place where they converged; but even with six eyes overhead peering through the dark, they found no clues to spur their progress.

Nightfall forced their hand.  With few options and grave uncertainties of what lay ahead, the Order’s commander called for a retreat back to Askr to resupply and assess the situation.  And as little as Grima liked it, he had nothing better to offer.  

“We should gather reinforcements,” the Askran prince insisted as they strode through the luminous gateway into the plaza.  “The Múspell forces couldn’t have traveled far.  If we set off at dawn we may be able to catch up with them–”

“It’s too risky,” the commander replied.  “We don’t know how many soldiers they have.  Even if we were to take the whole of the Order, we’ve no guarantee of victory – and that could be exactly what they want, leaving Askr’s defenses weak for Surtr’s invasion force.  Until we know more, we should wait and prepare.”

“You would abandon them.”

The words echoed through the plaza, leaving silence in their wake.  Grima stalked forward, rage fueling the violet tongues of flame that swirled around him; only the warning from the presence in the back of his mind kept him from lifting the red-headed general off the ground by the front of her tunic.  The Askrans still retreated, warily touching their weapons as the fell dragon stared down at them.

“We’re not abandoning anyone,” Anna insisted, the tremor in her voice undercutting her patient tone.  “Rushing in will only put everyone at risk.”

“Múspell’s general is a formidable strategist, but has treated the people of Nifl fairly even after its fall,” Fjorm offered.  “If she has taken the Summoner, we can be assured of their safety until terms are delivered–”

“And if Surtr is responsible then they may be dead already,” Grima snarled.

“…we can’t afford to risk the Order, or the Summoner’s life, by rushing in ill prepared,” the commander repeated.  “We will make ready, and when we receive word–”

The fell dragon bared his fangs, feeling the pull of the great form atop the castle and wanting nothing more than to bring the walls crumbling down on the Askrans’ miserable heads…

That won’t help Kiran.

He hated that voice.  All the more for the fact that he knew that it spoke true.

Clenching his fists, Grima stormed from the plaza, winding his way through the halls and up to the castle roof where his six-eyed form roosted.  The dragon made a small noise of distress, six eyes fixed on the distant horizon while Grima settled against the parapets and struggled to fight down the rage burning its way through him.  “Miserable wretched cowardly worms, every one of them–”

They have some sound points.

“They’re leaving Kiran to die, how is that a sound point?”

If Surtr had been involved, we would have known it.  He likes to gloat too much.  He wouldn’t have retreated with Kiran, he would have made it known immediately what he’d done.  Odds are good that it is the general who’s responsible, then, and that gives us time to prepare.

“Prepare for what?  Do you really imagine their terms will be anything beyond ‘surrender or we slaughter the Summoner?’”

…unconditional surrender or providing Gunnthrá’s location would be my guess.

Grima sneered, pressing his fists to his forehead.  “How reassuring.”

What else can we do, though?

“How should I know?  As I recall, you were the genius tactician.”

The presence at the back of his mind had no response for that.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the fell dragon reached into the pocket of his coat, removing the Summoner’s magic tile.  The divine weapon they’d left behind had been left in the commander’s care…but Grima had kept the Summoner’s fohn.  The surface had gone dark, the eerie music silent now as he held the device in his palm…but as he prodded it experimentally, the screen flashed to light, a series of tiny white dots speckling the bottom of the screen.

He had watched Kiran toy with this blasted thing often enough.  Touching the surface, he drew his finger through several of the spots…and with a soft click, the tile’s surface rippled and changed, a faint red cast overtaking the screen.  Touching it lightly sent sparks dancing under his fingers…before a map of the Askran kingdom appeared, glowing stones marked with ornate banners scattered across the continent.  The Summoner had shown him this once before…tapping one the seals arranged along the bottom of the tile, he frowned at the banners filing down before his eyes.  Skills, seals, growth…tapping another made the surface shimmer into a list of even less helpful banners: dueling swords, stamina restoration, barracks expansion…

What are you looking for?

“There must be some way to help them,” the fell dragon muttered.  “If this so-called ‘Order of Heroes’ is as grand as the Askrans claim, there must be something…”

Like what?

“If I knew that, would I be searching?” Grima growled, squinting in the tile’s light and touching another symbol, only to find himself back on the map of the kingdom.  “Wretched thing…”

Try the last one.  On the right.

“I didn’t ask you,” Grima snarled.

…I want them back, too, you know.  But I don’t have a body anymore.  I can only help if you’ll let me.

Silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the whisper of the breeze rustling the Askran flags flying high over the towers.  And finally, without ire or protest, the fell dragon touched the furthest symbol, scanning the list of banners that scrolled before his eyes.

There.  Catalog of Heroes.

Grima touched the words, watching the screen shimmer and change, displaying tiny portraits of the Heroes assembled within the Askran palace.  Dragging his fingertip along the edge sent the tiles trailing out of sight, replaced by new ones.  Some were familiar: Naga’s young daughter, the Hoshidan archer prince, the Ylissean tacticians…others much less so.

Touch one.

He did without argument.  The surface briefly darkened before an image appeared of a fair-haired man in red, a quiver of arrows secured at his side; a scroll emblazoned with a name and epithet hovered over a brief biography…

A strategist.

“How many do you think there are?” Grima asked quietly, touching the scrollwork arrows and browsing through the other Heroes.

If we’re lucky?  Enough.

The dragon felt a smile tug at his lips, exposing pale fangs to the moonlight.  “Then tell me, tactician: what will we need?”

—

It came as no surprise when the Askran troops made no move.  One day passed.  Then another.  A pall of silence hung over the castle; the Heroes carried on their conversations in hushed voices and terse words, half their attention seeming forever fixed on the gates leading to the lands beyond Askr in hopes that some message would arrive from beyond their borders.

None came.

And for that, Grima was grateful.  It would have been far more difficult to lay plans with the Order scrambling to meet Múspell’s demands.

Nightfall cleared the plaza.  None of the Heroes seemed interested in idle chatter when one of their own was missing.  And it made the task of locating them far easier as he stalked through the quiet barracks, glancing from door to door and knocking one by one on the rooms he and the tactician had so carefully chosen.

Responses were, as expected, mixed.  Soren had no interest in helping Grima, with his loyalties so firmly tied to the young mercenary swordsman; Ike, however, needed no encouragement at all to join when he heard the proposal, and in his wake the strategist grudgingly followed.  The Ylissean tacticians, meanwhile, were far more open to hearing the fell dragon out, though the rest of their exalted families harbored grave misgivings (and Grima felt a pang from the presence in his mind when Lucina touched her sword).

They assembled in the castle’s grand council chamber, taking their seats at the round table and looking among their number: four Ylissean tacticians in various states of dress and festive attire, one fair-haired Archanean archer, a stoic swordsman and his branded mage companion an Ostian spy with a sly smile and sharp eyes, and one Ylissean thief contemplating the gathering over a lollipop.

“You said this is about Kiran,” Ike said, breaking the uncomfortable silence at last.

“I did,” Grima agreed.  “And it is.”

“Have you seen something?” his counterpart ventured, glancing up at the ceiling as though searching for the six-winged form roosting far above.

“No,” the dragon replied.  “Which is why I asked you here.”

“…’fraid I don’t follow,” Gaius muttered.

Yes he does.  He just wants to hear you say it.

“How ‘bout you spell it out for us?” the thief continued, leaning far enough back in his chair to nearly upend it.

A smile carved its way across Grima’s face.  “Why are we all here in this place, fighting this war?”

“We were summoned,” Jeorge replied.  “By Kiran, and that strange weapon they hold.”

“I’m still not sure if we’re bound by contract or not,” Robin said, twisting a lock of long white hair around her finger.  “We can’t go home unless we’re sent back, but…”

“I don’t…exactly feel obligated to help here,” her twin agreed, adjusting the coat over her bare shoulders.  “Not like some of the Heroes we’ve encountered in Veronica’s ranks.

“Why is that?” the fell dragon asked.  “Why do you remain here, why do you commit yourself to the Askran cause, if not for a contract?”

“I’m only here because Ike is,” Soren grumbled.  

The swordsman paid him no mind, meeting Grima’s eye steadily.  “Kiran.”

“Kiran,” the fell dragon repeated, beginning to pace the length of the room.  “The Summoner.  The one who brought us together, who’s honed our skills, who’s afforded us every chance to better ourselves.  Who’s listened to us, and tried to help us find our places in this strange world.  Who’s seen us through countless battles and allowed us to be the Heroes we’ve been branded, regardless of our worth.”

You’re waxing poetic.

Kiran brought out a strange side of him.  Turning to the assembled Heroes, he leaned his weight against the table.  “Who’s now lost behind enemy lines, who’s been abandoned by the leaders of this Order, and who may be in danger.”

“You heard Anna,” the festive tactician noted uncomfortably, folding his mittened hands a few times.  “There’s too much of a risk, both to ourselves and to Kiran, to charge back in when we don’t know the full situation.”

A smile tugged at Grima’s lips, exposing the tips of his fangs.  “Then perhaps it would behoove us to rectify that.”

“…alright.  I’ll bite.  How?” Matthew asked, his smile twitching as he fought to keep it in place.

“A covert operation.”

All eyes turned to Grima’s doppelganger.  He folded his hands on the table, meeting the fell dragon’s eye steadily.  “That’s what you’d propose.  Isn’t it?”

“No wonder you need spies and strategists,” the woman seated beside him remarked.  “The first to slip into the Múspell camp, assess their forces and potential weak points; the other to take that and devise the plan to strike, extract Kiran, and retreat.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Ylisse’s illustrious tacticians,” the fell dragon murmured, inclining his head in agreement.

“Why, though?” Gaius asked, propping his boots on the edge of the table.  “What’s in it for you?”

The assembled Heroes turned their attention back to Grima.  He met their stares without flinching, standing tall beside his place at the table.  “You imagine I have selfish motivations.  And you are not mistaken.  Were it another, I would have no qualms about leaving them, whether they were royalty or the Order’s commander.  But this is Kiran.  They are a weak, wretched, pathetic excuse for a human, unable even to defend themselves in a fight.  I want them returned.  Nothing more.”

“…I would like to see the Summoner returned safely, myself,” Jeorge remarked, resting his chin on his hands as the other Heroes nodded in agreement.  “So, then.  Where do we begin?”

—

The council lasted well into the darkest hours of the night.  But their plans came together, bit by bit, until at last they parted ways to rest and prepare for the opportune moment.  Slipping through the plaza, Grima made his way toward the soft glow of the gates that led beyond the Askran kingdom.  If conditions were in their favor, they might be able to set things in motion with the next nightfall–

“Where is Kiran?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Hoshido’s archer prince as he emerged from the shadows of the pillars.  “Not here,” the fell dragon replied brusquely.

“Where?”  His voice sounded hoarse. Narrowing his eyes, Grima watched the noxious violet fog swirl and eddy around the young man.  The possessed one, then.

The volatile one.

“I haven’t seen them since the battle,” the fell dragon said.

“I need to find them,” Takumi insisted.  “Where are they?”

“I could not say.  But they are not here.  Look elsewhere.”

“I’ve looked.  Everywhere.  Nowhere else to go.  I need to find them.”

“…why?” Grima asked.

“It won’t go away.”

The archer pressed a hand to his face, fingers curling into an unsteady fist.  “I try.  I try to block it out, but…the voice keeps telling me…to kill them, all of them, and I can’t make it stop, I need Kiran to make it stop, I need them, where are they…?”

“Gone.”

Takumi looked up, his expression an unsettling mask of distress and rage.  “Where?”

“Captured.”

Are you sure you should be telling him that?

“By who?” the archer growled.

“Múspell,” Grima replied.

“Get them back.”

“The Order intends to do nothing,” the fell dragon sneered.  “They will sit on their hands and wait for Surtr’s demands.  Or for him to put Kiran’s charred corpse on display.  Whichever comes first, I suppose.”

The mist around the prince seethed and roiled, and a thin smile cut across Grima’s face as he watched the bow at Takumi’s side begin to tremble.

You’re doing it on purpose.

“I will go.”

“The Order won’t allow it,” the fell dragon remarked.

“I don’t care.  I’ll go.  I’ll kill them all for Kiran, I’ll get them back, I’ll…”

“You want Kiran back so badly?” Grima murmured, knowing the answer even before he asked.  Takumi nodded, offering no more than a low, guttural noise of assent.  “Then collect yourself.”

The singer might be able to help.  Azura?  Kiran called her in to help before, I think…

The fell dragon gestured for Takumi to follow, making his way back into the halls.  Considering their purpose, a performer could prove advantageous, though a songstress ran the risk of betraying their position…

But if you plan to use him, you need a way to keep him together.  Besides, a singer doesn’t need room to perform the way a dancer does.  Reach out to the one in blue, she’ll have a better chance of blending into the dark.

The fell dragon grinned.  Perhaps it truly had been a stroke of luck that he’d been bound to a tactician’s body.

You can thank me any time.

…he might consider it if they succeeded.

***

Laegjarn had been true to her word: following the retreat from the village, the Múspell general had personally escorted the Summoner through the march to the edge of the forest before placing them – under heavy guard, of course – in a private tent near the heart of the camp.  While Kiran was grateful for that, it didn’t stop anxiety from gnawing a hole through their gut, leaving them queasy and sleepless through the next few days and nights.

It didn’t help that Surtr was on his way.  Laegjarn hadn’t said anything about it, but the Summoner had heard her call for a messenger shortly after they made camp.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was going to send.  

Aside from the unbearable waiting, though, it wasn’t as bad as Kiran might have expected.  No one bothered them, the general was conscious of their needs, and the conditions were more than fair given their prisoner status.

The Summoner wondered, often, as their nerves twisted their stomach into knots, what would end up happening to them.  Laegjarn had vowed that no harm would befall them, but with Surtr on the way, that seemed like a hard promise to keep.  Would she be able to convince her father to discuss nonviolent terms?  Would the flame king overrule his general and act on whatever violent whims ruled him?  Would…

…would the Order somehow find a way to save them?

Impossible as it seemed, that was the thought that gave them the most heart.  Heroes swooping in to the rescue, defeating the Múspell soldiers…

A flurry of activity on the third night made their heart seize up.  Kiran heard Laegjarn calmly directing the soldiers as she strode past the Summoner’s tent…and as she passed, someone entered: not the eldest princess of Múspell, but her sister, her face an expressionless mask and her eyes far colder than her heritage would have implied.

“Is something going on?” Kiran asked, feigning calm.

“You will come with me,” Laevatein ordered.

The Summoner heard no room for argument.  And they weren’t exactly in a position to protest, either.  Rising to their feet, Kiran approached the young general, submitting without protest as she took hold of their arm and led them out of the tent.  

The frantic bustle of activity set their nerves on edge as they moved toward the lanterns lighting the front of the camp.  “Your sister seems pretty great,” they noted quietly, watching soldiers scrambling from one corner of the camp to another.  Kiran swore they saw the ghost of a smile cross Laevatein’s face at that, though she made no reply.  “I’d like to thank her, if I could.  Sometime.  Y’know.  I really appreciate everything she’s done…”

Anything else they might have wanted to say died on their tongue as they approached the edge of camp.  The lights they had seen were not lanterns at all: they were naked flames, writhing in the air and nearly choking the Summoner with their heat alone.  And at their heart stood the Ruler of Flame himself, his dark eyes staring down at them through the rippling haze.

“I present the Askran Summoner,” Laegjarn said, gesturing to Kiran as Laevatein released their arm.

A wicked sneer sliced across Surtr’s face, and any breath the Summoner might have salvaged to speak abandoned them.  “Pathetic,” he chuckled, a sound so low it seemed to shake the ground.  “This wretched thing is what’s given them such nerve?  They look like they would lose to a mere ember.”

Kiran had to admit that they probably would.  But the words would not come out, even if they’d wanted to speak.

The man’s smile grew, exposing teeth and gums alike.  “I wonder how well they will burn.”

He raised a hand, and the Summoner stared at the flames licking his fingers, sparking across his nails and crackling in his palm.  They could not speak.  They could not move.  Try as they might, all they could do was watch in growing horror as his hand stretched toward them, the heat baking their skin and singing the edges of their hood and oh gods this was how they would die, they would burn to death here and they couldn’t even cry as they stood rooted in terror beneath the burning gaze of Múspell’s king–

A hand closed on their arm, pulling them back a step.  

Kiran stumbled, gasping into their sleeve as Laegjarn placed herself between the Summoner and her father.  “I gave my oath that no harm would befall them,” she said, her voice perfectly composed.  “The Summoner is a valuable bargaining chip.  We can deliver terms of surrender to Askr in exchange for their safe return and end this war tomorrow, but only if we have the Summoner to offer–”

“You should not have made such a hasty oath,” Surtr growled.  “Stand aside, or the flames may feast twice this night.”

Kiran’s knees threatened to give way beneath them as Múspell’s king brushed his daughter aside, leaving her armor scorched from even so light a touch.  Another step and he loomed over them, the flames making him seem still larger as they flared around him, and the Summoner could not be sure whether it was the haze of heat around him or the adrenaline coursing through them that made his silhouette waver and blur–

And in a flash, chaos erupted all around them.

Horses shrieked and bolted with glowing green wolves snapping at their heels, blue-black ravens descended on the archers reaching for their bows, and wyvern riders taking to the skies fell to a hail of arrows.  Kiran scrambled blindly out of the way of the scattering soldiers–

Someone gripped their arm.  The Summoner yelped, whirling in a panic…

“Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Their breath caught.

“…Grima!?”

***

The weather held throughout the day and after the fall of night.  Thick clouds obscured the moon and stars from sight as the band of Heroes made their way through the dark: two mages, two dagger wielders, two archers, a swordsman, and a songstress with an ornate axe.  Not a brigade for sustained combat, but they had all agreed it would suffice for a strategic strike.

They found the Múspell camp with little difficulty.  Gaius and Matthew slipped from the cover of the trees, darting across the icy ground to the pillars of ice that sheltered the enemy tents.  They would need time to assess the situation and return to brief the rest of the company…

A sound overhead drew his attention.  Glancing up at the heavy clouds, Grima narrowed his eyes at the winged silhouette moving against the sky.  He scanned their small force, catching Takumi’s eye and gesturing up to the enemy on patrol; the archer followed his gaze, raising his bow and taking careful aim before loosing a bolt of black energy into the air.  The fell dragon saw the wyvern jerk and list in its flight an instant before its wings crumpled…

A sharp hiss drew his attention back.  He frowned, watching Takumi shudder while the aura pulsed and coiled around his neck.  Nodding briefly to the dark-clad singer, he focused once more on encampment glowing against the blue-white ice while a soft song filled their ears.  Even from this distance, he could see soldiers moving hastily through the lines of tents, seething and swarming like ants disturbed from their mound.  Something was going on, that much was clear…

He heard, rather than saw, the return of the spies from their patrol, the faint crunch of pine needles and snow under soft boots betraying their presence.  “We gotta move fast,” Gaius muttered as he slunk up to Grima’s side.  “Bad news just walked in.”

The fell dragon growled low in his throat.  That would explain the activity.  “Then we had best make haste.”

He moved swiftly, hearing the others following his lead.  They moved swiftly, dark shadows against the pale ice, taking shelter behind the icy stones that littered the plain.  As they drew close, he saw Surtr speaking with one of the two Múspell generals, watched him brush the woman aside, his hand reaching for…

Kiran.

“Now,” he hissed.

They did not hesitate.  The tacticians leapt into action, their spells descending on the encampment and throwing its soldiers into disarray.  Jeorge and Takumi took aim at the wyvern riders, arresting their attempted flight while Grima cleared the remaining distance, his attention fixed on the Summoner’s gilt robes amid the chaos.  Taking hold of their arm–

Kiran whimpered, rounding on the fell dragon and raising their free hand to shield their face.  He could feel them trembling beneath his touch.  Typical.  And yet, the fell dragon felt a smile curve across his lips, a soft rumble of laughter rising in his chest.  “Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Kiran stilled, turning their face up to look at him.  And in spite of himself, he could not hide his grin.

“…Grima!?”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, turning back the way he’d come.  “Quickly, now–”

“Hold.”

The fell dragon stopped, moving the Summoner carefully behind him as Surtr towered over them.  “Stand aside,” Grima commanded.  Even at his full height, the fell dragon was forced to tilt his head up to look the Ruler of Flame in his scarred face.  But he felt no fear, even as the man lifted his axe, tongues of fire licking the glowing blade.

Surtr sneered.  “Or what?  What can a puny thing like you do?”

Grima’s smile widened, exposing his fangs.  “I will devour you,” he replied.  He raised his hand, gesturing to Múspell’s king as the man uttered a booming, mirthless laugh…

The clouds above roiled and parted for the six-eyed dragon, its maw gaping wide as it descended toward the camp.  Surtr paused, watching the dragon’s descent with a vaguely amused smirk.  “Keep close,” Grima muttered, sheltering the Summoner with one outstretched arm as the dragon overhead breathed a cloud of violet smoke over the encampment…

“Foolish wretch – you will learn the meaning of fear,” Surtr laughed.

Sparks danced through the veil of haze.  The king of Múspell raised his axe high, flames coalescing into a ball that rivaled the sun – and as he swung his weapon, it soared high, striking the dragon squarely in the jaw.

The fell beast shrieked in rage and agony, expelling another cloud of noxious fog across the enemy’s forces.  He felt Kiran’s hand grip his sleeve, and without hesitation he retreated through the dark, away from the Múspell forces and onto the snowy wastes beyond.  He saw the others ahead, pulling back with equal speed, cutting swiftly across the ice and into the shelter of the trees beyond; with the songstress speeding them along their way, they continued without pause until at last the light and sound of the battlefield had faded from a ringing in their ears to utter silence.

And then, at last, their breathless troop stopped, collapsing beneath the shelter of the Nifl pines.  Grima glanced across the battered force, an odd sense of relief settling over him as he found them all accounted for.  They had done well.

And moreover, they had succeeded.

The fell dragon turned to the Summoner beside him, looking them over carefully as their breath at last grew steady.  They appeared unharmed, if slightly singed…  “Are you alright?” he asked.

Kiran drew in a shaky breath.  And when they looked up at him, their wide eyes were full of tears.

Before he could speak, the Summoner flung themselves at him, pressing close and clutching his coat in their trembling hands.  “He was gonna kill me,” they whimpered.  “Gods…g-gods, I could’ve died, he was gonna burn me alive, and I couldn’t d-do anything – I froze up, I just stood there, like s-some dumb…I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even run away, I was gonna die th-there…”

Grima hesitantly coiled one arm across Kiran’s shoulders, the other awkwardly patting the peak of their hood.  “What did you expect?” he asked quietly.  “You do not fight.  That is not your role.”

“I could’ve…a-at least run away, i-instead of dying like…like some c-coward,” the Summoner sniffled into his increasingly damp shirt.

“There is no cowardice in what you did,” the fell dragon murmured.  “Brave words can mask a coward, but his actions will betray him.  You showed great courage.  You held firm in the face of fear.  You faced a foe that even Heroes fear.  You should take pride.”

“I’m no Hero,” Kiran mumbled.

“No,” Grima agreed.  “You are not.  You are a Summoner.  But what makes us Heroes is not our presence in Askr.  It is not our histories, nor our titles, nor our lineages….it is you.  You are the one who makes us Heroes.  Your belief in us.  Your faith.  You are not a Hero, Summoner…but we are not Heroes without you.”

You’re waxing poetic again.

It seemed effective, though.  Kiran’s sniffling abated, and they turned their gaze once more up to look at his face.  “…do you really think so?” they whispered.

“I think any here would agree,” he nodded.  The Summoner drew back slightly, mustering up a shaky smile as they dried their eyes and turned to scan the assembled Heroes…

“Holy shit, what happened to Takumi!?”

Kiran broke away, hurrying over to where the archer sat.  His head came up, bloody lips curving into a relieved smile as the Summoner settled beside him.  “You’re back,” he mumbled, the shifting aura around him beginning to disperse.

“Of course I am,” they chuckled.  “You guys can’t get rid of me that easy.  Don’t suppose a healer joined the party…?”

“No,” Grima confirmed, moving to stand beside them.  “But Askr is only a brief warp away, and there are clerics enough there.”  

“We should probably get going, then,” they said, helping Takumi to his feet.  Nodding in agreement, Grima turned–

Something tugged on his sleeve.  Looking back, he found the Summoner’s hand on his arm, a familiar smile taking its place once more on their face.  “Thanks, Grima,” they murmured.  “For saving me.  And…for everything else, too.”

The fell dragon inclined his head slightly, concealing his smile beneath his raised hood as he turned to join the tacticians in seeing to the preparations for their return.  The commander would likely have harsh words for them all, but…he would bear them without complaint or apology.  The risk had been well worth the reward.

[whorekneecentral]

Okay but imagine getting into a fight with Lewis and you’re both giving each other the silent treatment. The thing is, you’re both missing each other so much but too equally stubborn to be the first to give in. So, just like the very adults you and Lewis are, you’re purposely walking around your shared home in a skimpy outfit (maybe a nightgown or just a thong and thin top?) while Lewis is on the balcony doing an intense workout with his glistening bare chest and bulge that’s protruding through his shorts on full display. And it isn’t until you and Lewis finally go to bed, both fully hot and bothered at this point, and you put your back to him that he finally gives in first because he can’t stand not having your body against his like you do every night. And it starts off sweet with apologies and then eventually turns into both of you being desperate and fucking the attitude out of each other and yeah :)

okay this, I fucking love this -- super cliché but it doesn't get better than this 

Lewis has gone out of his way to piss you off. Fuck him and stupid Capricorn sun because why couldn't he just agree with you? You were right but he'd never admit it because he's far too stubborn too. 

Not like you were any easier. Your stubbornness was what got you into this to start with. 

So instead to being adults and apologizing to each other, you left Lewis to his work out while you took a shower and put on a little black set, one that he had bought for you for your vacation together - it didn’t last long, spent more time on the floor than on you. 

He was on the balcony, headphones over his ears as he lifted the weights. His orange shorts hanging off his hips as he worked out. You bite the inside of your cheek as you set the nail polish on the table, just hard enough to get him to notice you there. 

Lewis watches as you walk out onto the balcony, stopping right in front of him before leaning down to scratch Roscoe’s side, giving Lewis a view down the top of your black nightgown. 

He says nothing, instead he looks away and continues his workout. “Good boy, Ros,” you pat his head before walking back inside, sitting on the couch to paint your nails. Your leg up on the coffee table, giving him a view of your bare leg. 

He’s had enough - walking inside and heading to take a shower. 

At some point after your nails have dried, you find your way to bed. Lewis was in the bathroom, the door open as you get into bed. The towel hanging on his hips as he tied back his hair. 

You can’t help but look - even though you were mad, he was still hot. 

Lewis pulls on some shorts, finding his way to bed. Your back is to him when he settles in and he can’t help himself - he snakes an arm over your waist, pulling you back to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, so quiet that you almost miss it. 

You hum, resting a hand on his. “Come on, forgive me. I miss you.” He says, peeking over your shoulder. “I’ve been here all day, Lew.” 

“I miss having you in my arms,” he admits to you as you roll over to face him, your leg hooked over his hip. 

Lewis’s hand rubbing along the bare skin, his lips on your neck, moving down to the low neckline of your nightgown. “I missed you,” he hums against the skin, his free hand pulling his shorts down.

“I missed kissing you,” his lips find yours as he lines himself up with you, your hand on his shoulder. 

“I missed fucking you.” He whispers as he pushed into you - you giggled at that one, the argument only happening this morning and you two had sex last night. 

“I missed you too.” you mumbles against his lips.