#hes leading juno along a path he knows that juno will follow

[heres-someart]

He said he loved me, and it was like a dream

Click for better detail. ID under cut. Reblogs are better than likes

ID:

A digital drawing of Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev, both in profile. Nureyev has his hand on Juno's face, bringing it up. Their faces are near each other but not quite touching. Peter is seen from the shoulders up and Juno from the neck up. Juno is a black person who wears a dark eyepatch. Peter is an asian man and is wearing a sheer red shirt. He has on dark red lipstick. His mouth is open slightly, making his sharp canine teeth visible

End ID

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Reading Lewis new facts I am getting super interestend in the other students like Joker CardGaul von Sentinel,Acer and Juno Winter I think they are pretty great people. Can we know more about them ,pretty please Leo ;u;

Sure! The Lewis ask put me in a good mood to talk about the side characters, so it's good for me haha. I remember giving some general information about them when I first developed dorm Gold and Card, but it's probably a good idea for me to update it as I've developed them further haha. I'll go down the list.

DORM CARD - named after the Dorm's representative.

This is a group consisting of second year students. They are further developed in their specialties than the other characters, and their primary role within the story is found in helping to guide the MCs particular specialization choice.

---

Joker Card - Male, Hospian, Shinobi

Joker's presence within the academy is near non-existent, and there are few who even know another Hospian is in attendance. While those who lived in Hospur's mainland possessed the easily identifiable blue hair and value towards intelligence, Joker grew up in the deep valleys and platou mountains found in the northeastern region of Hospur, where the noble Shinobi clan reside.

The Shinobi are an antiquated group that, in their seclusion, have held on to traditional methods and values since before Hospur grew into the knowledge-pursuiant powerhouse it is today. Joker is one of the few new-minded Shinobi that have found the value in learning from other sources, and so has sought the academy to join the faction of beggars.

As such, he will have very little screentime except in instances where the MC or RO has involvement with the faction, but also has a small role in L's story.

----

Rex - Male, Triainian, Student Guard

A mellow man who values actions over words. He is respectful in most instances and prudent in situations, leading him to be a very dependable member of the student body, as well as a role model and moral compass to those that look up to him.

Among the entire student body, he is the most competent swordman and a skilled tactician. He is driven by the goal to refine his swordsmanship and study the different styles found around the world. To that end, he is constantly practicing to the point of overstraining, and it is common to find him bandaged in various places.

He doesn't go out of his way to make any friends, and at the best of times he is unapproachable, but he holds a good relationship with all of them members of his dorm, and in particular has a strong kinship with Acer. He has a strong presence if the MC seeks to follow the military path, as well as a small role in E's story.

----

Acer - Male, Vestian, Rosaline's assistant

Acer comes from a line of soldiers slotted into Vestia's First Division vanguard, a prestigious position for those with an elite melee prowess. Despite being proud of his lineage and ancestry, Acer didn't get along well with his immediate family, and in a strike of rebellion set off on his own oversees when he found an academy application tucked away in one of Vestia's port-camps.

When Acer first entered the academy, he leaned heavily into people's initial impressions of Vestians as a battle-crazed people, he was seen as a general delinquent due to his tendency to seek out altercations, he was coerced into assisting Rosaline after a fight he had in one of the labs, which resulted in the destruction of extremely expensive equipment. Now he is on probation, and much to his distastes is now forced to settle his problems as peacefully as possible.

His only release is in the academy-approved sparring, and it's there that he and Rex developed their initial acknowledgement for each other that has later developed into an almost brotherly bond between the two. Now the two are commonly seen together, and keep each other in constant check. Acer has a strong presence in the MCs scientist route, as well as playing a role in V's story.

----

Juno Winter - Female, Frenzian, Student Guard.

A student guard much like Rex, that is where the similarities between the two end. Juno is brutally sardonic and crude beneath her impassive monotone. She sticks by the idea of swift and decisive punishment, and carries it out unfalteringly with a retractable baton.

Original from Frenza, she was once Juno Halen, Fiore's older sister. As all in her family, she was intended to become an attendant to the royal family, specific in service to the middle child, Fern. However, after six months under his service, it's said she suffered a psychotic breakdown and went manic, leaving a wing of rooms completely upended as she attempted to pursue and kill Fern with her bare hands. Ultimately, her attempt failed and she fled into the woods.

Now reappeared, having discarded her family name, her narrow eyes of contempt and borderline murderous resentment for the so-called "Scum of the Earth", she's unrecognizable from the cheerily ambitious sister Fiore knew.

Juno now suffers from a split personality - one of the manic Juno Halen and the constructed personality of Juno Winter, psychologically tricking herself into otherwise believing she's a different person by wearing a short brim cap so she can't see her olive green hair, which seems to be her trigger.

She has presence in MCs military route, and well as a role in F's story.

----

Uno - Female, Triainian, Burmuda Troupe

Uno is the adopted daughter of Simon, the academy's temporary gym instructor and full time leader if the Burmuda Troupe, a popular traveling performance group.

Uno is spunky and charismatic, leading her to be a near-constant center of attention. She is a talented performer, having been adopted into the troupe as a child, with a focus on acrobatic stunts and trapeze.

She is the general heart of her dorm, and constantly acts as the glue that would keep them together. Despite this, she doesn't share any specific interests with any of the members of her dorm, and none seem the type to be interested in her profession, so there's been little room for her to develop friendships with them beyond surface level.

She is prominent in the Mac's performer route, and has an independent role in the story.

------

DORM GOLD - this is a first year dorm all hailing from aristocratic roots, leading to the meaning of the dorm's name. Many of the members of this dorm are meant to be secondary antagonists in some of the ROs stories.

Vale Wunderkind - Male, Triainian

Treyla's younger brother, he has an unnaturally slender frame and sicky complexion. Vale has suffered from an extremely weak and susceptible immune system from a young age, leading to constant illness.

Despite this, he does everything he can to abate his sister's constant worry over his health and attempts to do everything in his power to work past his symptomatic nature, taking the large step to attend the academy on his own.

----

Treyla Wunderkind - Female, Triainian

A child prodigy and intellectual to rival L, Treyla stems from a long ancestry of genius that she takes proudly to. Not only a quick study, Treyla has the uncanny ability to be able to mimic and reproduce movements people make after a short time seeing them, limited by the methods that she can move her own body.

Due to her constant praise and doting growing up, she suffers from the expectation that every concept she has is correct, leading her to enter debate with anyone who offers a different consideration. Since she's come to the academy however, much of her worldviews have begun to be tested.

----

Gaul von Sentinel - Male, Triainian

The Sentinel family represents the small northern fishing Hamlet of Triaina by the same name. While aristocratic in name, the Sentinel family isnt particularly wealthy, and instead works beside their community as fellow fishers and lead by example. As such, Gaul does not suffer from many of the same haughty idealisms that many of the other aristocrats do.

Gaul takes his position among the nobility seriously, and wishes to transfer the lessons and ideologies taught by his family to other aristocrats. Gaul believes nobility has the direct responsibility to keep other nobility in check, and well as ensure those they overlook are well-kept.

Gaul is often seen with Lewis, though it is more to keep a general eye on him rather than out of any sense of friendship.

----

Priscilla - Female, Triaina

A reserved member of dorm Gold, she wears dark, somewhat off-putting makeup and is often seen around Vale.

Much to Treyla's derision, Priscilla often suggests Vale to do things that would otherwise be bad for his health such as taking a walk when he expresses feeling cooped up. Even knowing it's bad for him, Vale still often accepts any invitation she gives.

She rarely expresses herself in any way that could pinpoint how she's feeling, often simply giving slight one-off statements to questions. One of the only things well-known about her is a surreal and morbid sense of humor.

----

Thank ya for the ask! This was fun haha

[jamestrmtx]

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Summary:

After calling upon the decision to test the waters between carnivores and herbivores, things at Cherryton Academy turn far more tense than they already were. Unsurprisingly, there are those who poke fun at the decision, both with good and bad reasons at hand. Calling the academy out on such high of a risk's understandable, but mocking carnivores for making friends with their opposites isn't.

Having been sheltered through seventeen years of homeschooling and the rigid rule of never going out at night, you far from expect being allowed to attend there after your eighteenth birthday. Regardless, you don't plan on cowering back. Your want to expose yourself to the real world, meet new people, and live through new experiences outweighs that fear, transforming it into strength.

Act One | Man's Best Friend

[Previous] | [Next]

Already messy files almost end up scattered on the floor, yet you manage to salvage them right on time. Your hands and legs shake just as fast as your heart beats; even breathing is a challenge with how stressed your mind is. Being around a large number of people wasn't the norm in your home; you'd been used to being a close family of six since you were born, and nothing more. Spending time with others beyond relatives was a rarity, as was the idea and agreement of having you study your final year in Cherryton -- far outside the safety of your home. Now that you're eighteen and near to graduating, your family's given you three simple rules to follow: never step out of campus at night, never join acting, and never show daintiness. All three of them emphasize the word 'never'; not a single space for protest or bargain is left in those rules. You knew the consequences of going out at night, as well as the risks of calling forth unwanted attention by choosing not to dress how you were told and letting any sort of bubbly nature out. Being forbidden to join acting was by far the only thing they hadn't explained to you by full.

"Your dorm is through here," Jack says, pointing with his eyes and snout over to a busy hallway.

While the person giving you the tour isn't exactly the type you were warned of before being admitted into this school, he isn't exactly of your type either, but more of a happy medium between the two: a dog. Not quite a carnivore and not quite a herbivore, he's what you learned to be an omnivore -- a kind you were taught to be wary of just as much as a wolf or a lion. Even then, his presence is about as warm and welcoming as sun rays on a cold, winter day, and you find it hard not to smile when he continues to show you around the place. He only ever stops when he sees he's left you far behind, a product of you losing yourself in your thoughts and the new world around you. 

His excitement is one you wish you could manifest just as much as him, though the reminder of how you had to behave at this school leads you to brush and bury those ideas away and hold yourself back.

"Are you okay?"

Jack's question paired up with his careful tone help pull you out of your daydreaming. How concerned he looks makes you take note of the expression you're carrying. Oftentimes, you scrunched up your snout and furrowed your brow -- whenever you became lost in thought, mostly. To any outsider like him, it would seem as if though you're bothered by something, so you hurry in your reply, words leaving you in a rush, "I'm okay." Your smile returns as you meet his eyes. "I just… I got caught up with something else."

"Nervous about staying here?"

"About everything, honestly."

He lets out a laugh at that, and his gaze brightens as he motions for you to follow him once more.

Your next destination is what appears to be the rooms you were informed of at the beginning of your visit -- judging by the rows of doors laid around, along with one of them left open, displaying a bunk bed in the background. There's a student by the dresser, combing her fur without so much as bothering to look at you or Jack. She's far too focused on her brushing to acknowledge she's left the room visible to those wandering outside, though -- with her being a wolf -- you assume she's confident in herself. Or you believe so, at the very least, as based on the rumours your parents and every other family member taught you.

You halt when you notice Jack stops right by that door and see him gesture over with his head for you to step inside. 

"Is this allowed?" you blurt out, rushing to cover up not a minute after that question leaves your mouth. "O- Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that."

"It's alright," he says, chuckling. "I know you're homeschooled, so if you have any questions about how things work here, feel free to ask me!" He stops for a moment and seems to recall something along the way. "And you can come over to my place, too, if you need more help with showing you around."

"How bold of you to invite a girl into the boys' dorm, Jack." 

A feminine voice comes from behind him, and -- soon after -- the wolf from earlier appears next to the dog. She directs a cheeky grin at him, then a friendlier smile at you. "You're my roommate, aren't you?" she says, nodding her head in the direction of your dorm. "What are you standing there for? I want to get to know you!" She sounds about twice as cheerful as Jack acts. "I was told about your arrival almost three whole months ago, so the wait has been long enough."

"...You're Juno?" you ask, making memory of the list handed over to you just a few hours ago. 

She nods, eyes softening. "(Y/N), right? It's... nice to have a herbivore who won't look for a change of dorms the second she sees me."

Already feeling guilty, you can only hope she hadn't heard you earlier ago. It was a known fact you tended to speak without thinking sometimes (if not, most of the time), so you make a mental note out of it and set up a goal to improve on that throughout the rest of the year. You thank Jack and say your goodbyes before following her into the room.

At the sound of the door closing, you breathe a sigh of relief with the knowledge you've made it this far without screwing up too badly. The next thing in mind is to try sparking up some conversation, but only when you make enough mental preparation for it -- aware your thoughts might run haywire and tactless again. "But... Why would they do that? Isn't it normal at this school?"

Juno shows you around the room and stops next to one of the beds, bottom one being the only one out of all the others around to have some of her possessions settled down on it. "It's allowed," she replies and continues with, "And though it's not too uncommon for both carnivores and herbivores to be placed together... Things got a lot more tense after a student's passing." Her ears droop along with her tail, and a hint of gloom clashes with her friendly demeanor. "That's why you're the only other woman in this room, and why I…" Her body shudders as she lets out a breath. "Why I try not to walk alone in the halls anymore." She takes another breath and lets it out with a huff. A hushed swoon then seems to take her over, replacing her sadness about as quickly as her ears go back up. "Although... I guess I wouldn't have met someone wonderful, if some students hadn't cornered me for being a carnivore not long after I arrived here."

The wolf sighs, then faces you with droopy eyelids and a softer smile. "Tell me, (Y/N)... Have you ever fallen in love? It's the most incredible feeling I can describe!" She sits down on the bottom bed, though she scoots aside, leaving you some space next to her. "They say your last year at school's the last chance you have for experiencing an emotion so strong, but I like to believe it will carry on as long as your love is powerful enough for it!"

While you're a bit lost as to what point she's trying to make, you smile and nod along as you wait for her to continue speaking. 

After all, having two friends at the beginning of your final school year didn't sound like a bad idea. Hopefully, your lonely days would start to change; your conversation with Jack and your current one with Juno have been -- without much exaggeration -- the most interaction you've had during all your eighteen years of living. Knowing you were finally free to meet as many people as you'd want as well as study over brand-new things and the relationships between both kinds made your worries and doubts more than worthwhile. No matter how often your family and distant acquaintances warned you otherwise, you needed to grow, learn, explore, and see more outside what was taught to you at home. 

You hear Juno out until she asks if you have a special someone yourself; the question turns out to be a bit of a difficult one to answer with how little people you knew to this day. So far, the only experience you remember similar to that of having a crush on someone was by reading stories of adventure and challenge when you were younger. All of these were confiscated by your family whenever you gained too many ideas, fell for a character, or whenever a book so much as mentioned the word carnivore between its pages -- in a light aside from that of hostile and negative.

Although it feels like nothing short of wishful thinking, you hope your current circumstances change soon with the new path being offered out to you; in that, you carry a strong and unshakable desire over.

And, who knows? 

Maybe one day you'd be able to sneak out and watch the night sky, too -- and with a friend or two by your side, preferably.

"I don't, but…" You trail off to consider her question; overwhelmed by the changes and influenced by her energetic self, you find it hard not to follow along with her. "I wouldn't mind having one -- if that opportunity ever came around!"

[Previous] | [Next]

[evening-starlight]

Daddy’s Best Friend

I just finished Chances yesterday and I already have another Tom story posted. I have a serious problem send help. Or Tom Hiddleston, he would work too

1

When Amaris Clarke comes home after a year of studying abroad in Paris, Tom is struggling to keep his feelings in check for his best friend’s daughter.

Word Count: 1346

    Amaris scans the crowd surrounding her at the airport, searching for one of three people: Her father, his best friend, or their personal driver. She pushes through the sea of paparazzi and finds a man wearing a ridiculous hat that looks like somebody's three-year-old painted on it scanning the arrival gate.

    She skips over to him, gaining his attention. Tom's eyes widen at the woman standing before him. When Amaris left for her year abroad, she was an awkward child. At least in his mind, she was. "Bonjour, Tommy," She greets before flicking the brim of the hat. "I see you kept the hat all these years." He laughs and throws an arm around her shoulders to shelter her from the never-ending group of press.

    "Of course I did. My favorite niece made it for me." Amaris will never admit it, but Tom calling her his niece sends a sharp pain through her heart. After a year apart, she hoped he'd see her differently, see her as the woman she was. But instead, he saw her as a child. "Your father is extremely sorry he couldn't come to pick you up. He got called into a last-minute meeting." Tom apologizes on her dad's behalf.

    "Don't worry about it; I'm used to it." Amaris shrugs as Tom lead her into the passenger seat of his black Jaguar. Her dad was a great dad. He went to everything important to her growing up, like dance recitals and art shows. Amaris coming home from a trip wasn't important, comparably. Tom lifts her two green suitcases into the back seat as Amaris sits on her phone in the front seat.

    "I'm going to drop you off at home, if that's alright?" Tom asks as he gets in and starts the car.

    "That's fine," She replies, not breaking contact with her phone, catching up on any gossip she missed on her seven-hour flight. They sit in silence while Tom navigates out of the airport parking lot. You would think he'd know these lanes like the back of his hand, the many times he's flown, but he continues to swear they change the layout every time.

    "How was Paris?" Tom asks as they finally enter the highway. Amaris puts her phone down in her lap, freeing her hands to talk animatedly.

    "Paris," She starts, accompanied by a vague french accent. "Was magnifique." And thus began the long schpeel about her times in Paris. Amaris told Tom about her travels around France, to meeting a french boy name Armel in her favorite local cafe, who she then dated and lived with during the last six months of her stay in Paris.

    Tom doesn't show it, but his heart broke a small crack when he heard she had a boyfriend. "We broke up before I left, though. I couldn't do long distance. Although, I would love to go back to Paris." Amaris confirms. "I felt so at home there the minute I stepped off the airplane." She finishes.

    "It sounds like you had a great year, Mari." Amari nods and looks out the window as the mansions start to pass. Dread starts to fill her body. In Paris, she could be authentically her. She didn't have to put on a face for the public as much as she had to here in New York. The real reason she broke up with Armel was that she didn't want him to see this side of her life. He saw the tiniest sliver of her life, and she couldn't bear the fact he didn't know who she really was.

    Her family's house rolls into view decked out in green and pink decorations and a giant banner welcoming her home. Amaris's younger siblings wait outside with excited looks on their faces. Tom barely has the car in park before Amaris jumps out of the car to hug her siblings.

    "I've missed you guys so much. You have no idea." She mumbles as her cheeks get crushed between the other two. She steps back and takes them in. "You've gotten so tall, Juno. Who the hell gave you the right?" Amaris remarks as she sees her youngest sibling standing a good six inches taller than her 5'6". She then turns to her sister. "And you," She gushes, looking over how vibrant and put together she looks. "When did Dad let you grow up?"

    "I didn't ask permission," She jokes. "How was Paris since I left?" Danica asks, having visited her oldest sister two months into Amaris moving there. Juno went after, six months into Amaris's trip.

    Tom watches the siblings talk and get along as he unpacks Amaris's bags for her. He had to admit, at least to himself, that she looked good. She grew up well in Paris. Amaris dressed confidently and looked the part. Tom was surprised no one else could see the golden glow she had surrounding her.

    Amaris looks over her shoulder at Tom with a bright white smile as if feeling him staring at her. He gives a small wave and picks up her bags for her. She offers to help, but Tom waves her off, telling her to catch up with her siblings.

    They all follow Tom inside, deciding to sit on the comfortable couches in the lounge instead of standing in the driveway. Tom joins them after dropping the bags in the hallway, sitting next to Amaris on purpose.

    He will admit to everyone that he's missed her dearly. It was like a part of him was missing this last year. She was the most important girl in his life, and he'd go to jail for her. He's said as much during drunken confessions. But this new feeling caught him off guard. He wasn't supposed to feel the never-ending need to touch her.

    The feeling dies down as he lays an arm across Amaris's back but returns when she leans into him. This wasn't anything new, though. Amaris and Tom would cuddle and sit together since she was a child. There was nothing else behind it; he was just her safe place after her mother passed away.

    Though, the cuddling and touching died down when Amaris started going through puberty and liking boys. But Tom was always there as her wall when she needed to cry. Tom would do nothing wrong with those kids. He saw them as his own some days and other days as his siblings. He wouldn't do anything to lose the trust of his best friend, their father. But Amaris could threaten all of that.

    As if called by Tom's thoughts, William walks through the front door, arms open and ready to welcome his eldest child home. "Mars?" He calls out. Amaris scrambles off the couch and runs to her father.

    "Daddy," She squeals, launching into his waiting arms. "I've missed you so much."

    William hugs her tighter, "I've missed you more, Owl. You have to tell me everything." Amaris gasps and lets go of her dad, remembering she has her bag full of gifts for the gang.

    "I brought gifts; go sit." She orders, going to find which bag she put them in. Tom says quick goodbyes to the family while he makes his way to the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going, Hiddleston?" Amaris asks, hands-on-hips while she blocks Tom's path. She heard his goodbyes and raced to intercept him.

    "I was going to leave you and your family to enjoy alone time," He offers, eyes falling to the low-cut blouse she wore. Was she always wearing the shirt? Tom adjusts the collar of his shirt as his face gets hot. This was worse than forbidden.

    "Are you trying to tell me you're not family, Tom?" The way his voice falls from her lips could bring any man to his knees. Like fresh honey straight from the beehive and sweeter than sugar cane. He needs to snap out of these thoughts. Instead, Tom smiles and holds his hands up. "Exactly, go sit. I have things for you too." Amaris turns on her heel, and Tom watches her leave, ass swaying in those perfectly fit jeans.

    Tom was utterly screwed if he didn't get over this weird crush he developed in the last hour soon.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos​

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

But What If, Instead

Decided to give a go to posting my horribly named but hopefully very fun Beetlejuice fic to tumblr as well. This is an au where BJ is adopted by the Deetz family at a young age.

He’s twelve when he’s left on his own in the upperworld.

He doesn’t know he’s twelve, because he’s never celebrated a birthday, but that timeline seems to fit, later, when he thinks back on it. So he’s twelve. His mother has promised him a special treat that day, and though he’s skeptical to trust her, he follows her quietly through the door she’s drawn, the bone white stick of chalk a blaring contrast to the dark hallways of the netherworld reception office. She’d knocked, and the drawing was more than a drawing, suddenly, with white light and noise spilling through into his little corner of hell as it opened, and when he steps through, Betelgeuse sees blue skies and green grass for the first time in his unlife. He’d turned back to look at Juno, confused, curious, his big orange snake eyes watching her, waiting for the catch, for her to yank him back and punish him for being naive, and trusting her, but all the demoness had done was billow smoke from her slit throat, and nod encouragingly to him. He takes another step, and another and another, and suddenly he’s running and laughing and jumping and the air up here is different, but good, and he takes breaths he doesn't need because it feels nice, and he turns to her again to try and entice her to play with him- And the door is gone. He stands there, staring at the nothingness where she and it had been, and realization hits him hard, because he’s twelve, and he’s been left on his own.

He doesn't cry, both because he can’t, and because he knows it won’t change anything. It doesn’t take him long to find them. Pre ghosts. Breathers. Humans. The place is lousy with them, and the smell of them irritates his sensitive nose. He’s a dumb kid, sure, but he’s got some survival instincts, so he hides from them as they go about their lives, strolling around this place, completely oblivious to the little demon now crashing their dimension. Breathers look so weird, all flushed with blood and bright eyed and hearts beating, no signs of death or rot or decay on them. It’s a lot to ask a kid to get used to. The ghosts back home, the ones workin in Ma’s office, tell him stories about the world up here, sometimes, usually in exchange for him going away, and leaving them the hell alone. (Their words) If there was one thing he learned from them, it was that humans, living or dead, didn’t like things that were strange or unusual. He wanders the wilds of wherever he is for an hour before he finds a body of water, and stooping to peer into it, takes a look at himself.

His skin is pale, but not pink. The undercolor is purple, maybe, which he would have thought would be close enough, but compared to the living, breathing people walking around this place, he knows is too different. There’s not much he can do about that. His hair is a bushy mess, sticking up all over the place, but at least the color is currently green. It’s the eyes, teeth, and ears that really stand out. Yellow snake-like slits stare back at him, long pointed ears flick in the direction of distant sounds, and when he tries to smile down at his reflection, those too many too sharp teeth are all he can see. He’s not the best at magic, yet, mostly using it to play pranks around the office (and hey, maybe that’s why Ma left him here in the first place?) but he does what he can. He throws a glamour over himself, and it’s far from perfect, but the three big problems are taken care of. He looks more human than he did a minute ago, at least, and that’s something.

He’s less afraid to take the main paths, after that, and with that worry out of the way, he finds himself enjoying the afternoon again. So, ma left him here. So what? She’s done him a favor, probably the first she’s ever done anybody, because now he doesn't have to be around her just as much as she doesn’t have to be around him. It’s a win-win, Betelgeuse thinks stubbornly, trotting along the winding pathways lined with benches and garbage cans and other silly human things. He’s starting to get a bit tired of all the green when he reaches, quite unexpectedly, the end of it. There’s a big arched sign, and he can’t understand the language written over head, even though he’s squinting and tilting his head. Someone at some point had sat him down and tried to teach him letters, and he’d gotten far enough to read through the first page of the Handbook, but then that person had been reassigned, and was gone, and no one had cared to keep teaching him.

He’s holding his hands up at his sides, rubbing his red tipped claws against the palms of his hands, top teeth biting over his bottom lip, head tilted to one side in an extreme, when he hears a snort and then a soft giggle.

There’s a woman standing in front of him. Her hair is a sunny yellow color, but her clothing is dark and dramatic, and there are roosting bats dangling from her ears. She’s laughing at him. They stare at each other for a long moment, her hand raised in front of her mouth, her eyes crinkled pleasantly at the corners, and he finally breaks the silence by pointing at the sign, and speaking. “Wazzat say?” She blinks in surprise at his grating little voice, and then glances back at the sign. “Krap Lartnec,” she tells him. “Which is flipped around and backwards for “Central Park.” He’s been staring at the sign the wrong way. Of course. He feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “Oh. Got it. Park. Right, yeah.” She lets out another laugh, and it’s so different from the sounds his mother makes when she’s guffawing at him, shaming him, that it almost doesn’t register as a laugh at first. There’s no cruelty to it, just amusement, and maybe curiosity. “Are you here alone?” she asks him, and he shrugs easily. “I guess.” She moves closer to him, cautiously, like he’s going to bite her, or bolt, but he doesn’t really feel the need to be worried over one breather. He knows he could rip out her throat if he needs to. The glamour only hides his demonic features, not takes them away. He’s still plenty capable of taking care of himself. “Where are your parents?” She's crouched down next to him now, one knee on the pavement, big brown eyes all sweet and worried, and he shrugs again. “Don’t have a dad. Mom’s downstairs.” She squints at that, and he gestures down with a pointed red claw tip. “Ya know. Downstairs.” The way he emphasizes it is meaningful, and when her eyes show understanding, he assumes she gets it. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be. I’m havin’ a good time.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she expects, but she just nods thoughtfully. “Are you staying someplace?” He can’t, for the undeath of him, figure out why she’s asking, and why she cares. He shrugs again, because things feel better in threes, and says vaguely, “I guess I’m stayin’ here.” That also doesn’t seem to be a good answer. “You can’t stay in the park overnight. There’s creeps around here.” He bites back the urge to explain that he’s the creepiest thing here, because suddenly she’s taking his hand, and she feels cool to the touch. “Good god, kiddo, you’re burning up!” she puts her other hand on his forehead, all the play gone from her voice, clearly concerned. “You might have a fever. Listen…” she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, smudging the dark color there, before she makes a decision. “Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll give you something to eat, make sure you’re alright, and we’ll figure out what to do from there, okay?” He isn’t sick, and he’s pretty sure he can’t get sick. It’s the hellfire in his veins that makes him hot, because he’s not like her, not even close, but the idea of following her seems like a fine one to him, so he just nods. “Kay. You got bugs where you live?” She snorts again, and stands, brushing off her dark, rose patterned tights. “Sure, what New York apartment doesn’t have a few roaches lurking around. You like bugs?” “Yeah, I like em. They’re crunchy an’ they skitter around an’ stuff.” “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding thoughtfully. “Bugs kick ass.” It’s his turn to snort, and then laugh, because she’d sounded so serious that it strikes him as funny. His hand is still in her’s, and she gives it a squeeze. “What’s your name, little buddy?” “Betelguese.” He expects a pause, or a comment, because no newly dead has ever heard his name without wrinkling their nose and looking vaguely sick, but her smile just grows wider. “Far out. I’m Emily.” And hand in hand, they leave the park.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Beetlejuice decides quickly Emily might be the nicest breather who ever breathed. It’s a decision he makes only moments after they’ve left the park. Normally he’d be talking, and talking a lot, and his ma might throw something at him, a curse or a bottle, to try and shut him up. So he’s giving silence a try, here, even though it feels like it hangs like a weight around his neck. But Emily is the one instead filling the silence with sound, and he’s never had such unfiltered attention from an adult before. She’s talking about the park, then his hair, then his name, and everything she says is just… sunshine. She likes his hair. She likes his name. She even likes the loose fitting and filthy black and white striped shirt he’s got on, she says it’s deadlyvoo, whatever the hell that means, but it must be good, because Emily said it.

They’re walking down the street, his little hand still in her’s, when a smell hits his sensitive nose. It’s unlike anything he’s ever smelled before and if he wasn't tethered to her, he would have floated after it. As it is, he does feel his feet lift off the ground briefly, and he has to remind his body to obey gravity, before someone notices. Luckily, Emily only sees part of his reaction, namely the way he’s sniffing the air like a dog and drooling. “Hotdogs!” she grins, and she leads him over towards the smell before he can even ask what that word means.

There’s a little cart set up, and a short, fat woman is fussing over a fire. He quickly finds the source of the smell, those little weird shapes of meat she’s turning over, and he goes to reach for one, only stopped by Emily’s other hand over his. “Not so fast, little bug. To unlock lunch, you need the power of capitalism.” She nods gravely. He nods back, clueless, but after a moment he has the source of the smell in his hands, and he wastes no time in scarfing it down. It’s good. He wants more, instantly, and tugs at her sleeve. Emily has hardly put her wallet away before it’s back out again, and she’s bought two more hotdogs. He eats them just as quickly, but before he can ask for more he realizes she’s led him away from the woman and her meats and her fire. Clever breather.

The walk to her home isn’t so bad, and it gives him time to take in his surroundings. The park had been jarring enough- what little plants grow in the netherworld are perpetually gray and withered, sad little scraggly weeds that struggle and choke each other out for the privilege of what miniscule sunshine permeates through the perpetual overcast. But there’s enough sunlight and water and everything to go around here, and it all grows green and vibrant. The city feels the same way, sort of. Like there’s plenty of space to stretch out and grow, and so they did. In the netherworld, everything is short and cramped, but bigger on the inside, with long, winding hallways meant to confuse and trap the dead. The buildings here are so tall looking up at them makes him dizzy, but he hardly has time to admire them before Emily is guiding him this way and that, and finally, to another door. She presses a button and they’re let inside, and he experiences another first as they ride the elevator up a few floors.

They ride the first few floors up in relative silence, until - “Get ready to jump!” Emily says suddenly, crouching, and he follows her lead, and jumps when she does. There’s a brief moment of weightlessness before gravity catches up with them, and their feet hit the elevator floor again, in time for the doors to open. “Good job, Beetlejuice!” she praises, pushing that long sun colored hair out of her face, and he beams up at her. “Feels like flyin, kinda!” “Right?” she enthuses loudly, and he’s about to ask her how a breather knows what flying feels like, but a door down the hall opens, and the biggest man Betelguese has ever seen steps out. “Thought I heard you rattling the elevator,” he’s chiding Emily, who only gives her snort and smile in return. “Lydia isn’t even with you, do you really play that game when you’re-” his eyes fall on Betelgeuse. “Alone?”

“Charles, I made a new friend!” Emily tells him simply, leading the little demon into their apartment. The interior is dim, but he can see fine. He knows his amber eyes are glowing a little in the gloom, and he closes them, just for a moment, as Emily leads him down the hall and into a sunny, well lit kitchen. The big man, Charles, is tailing behind, looking mystified. “Where on earth did you find him?” a hint of nerves creeps into the breather’s voice. “You didn’t… steal him.. Right?” “Charles!” Emily laughs, like it’s an absurd question. Betelgeuse can’t tell if it is or not. Emily doesn’t seem like a child snatching witch, but he doesn’t know enough about such things to be sure. “I didn’t steal him,” she clarifies, busying herself with getting the boy a cup of ice water, and stopping by for a moment to touch the back of her hand to his forehead again. “I found him wandering around Central Park. He said he doesn’t have any folks, and he was all alone, and he feels feverish. I’m being responsible! I’m a responsible adult!” “A responsible adult who still plays the elevator game, despite being told by maintenance you might throw the whole elevator out of whack?” Charles askes, but he doesn’t look angry, more amused.

“I was teaching Beetlejuice how to play.” The pause he was expecting with Emily finds its home with Charles. Charles glances at the boy. Betelguese stares back with big amber eyes, sipping quietly at his ice water. Charles looks to Emily, who seems to be waiting expectantly. The silence stretches for another beat before Charles asks, baffled, “Is that… his name?”

Emily throws her hands up like he’s asked if the sky is really blue. “Of course it’s his name! Or at least, that’s the name he gave me. I’m respecting it. Respectful and responsible, that’s me.” She turns and winks at Betelgeuse. He returns the strange breather gesture because he likes Emily more than he’s ever liked anyone before.

The water cup is empty, and he simply lets it go, no longer interested in holding it. It bounces and rolls across the floor, and Charles wrinkles his brow at the boy. “Wh-” Before he can say much more, Betelgeuse is sniffing at the air, and he crouches on all fours, nose to the ground, like a dog in a cartoon. He’s caught the scent of some kind of upperworld bug, and despite all the hotted dogs, he’s still hungry. He’s on the prowl around the kitchen, weaving under the little dining table and three chairs, and then back down the hall, into the living room. Charles and Emily poke their heads out of the kitchen to watch him.

“I think you brought a feral child into the house, Em.”

She makes a psshaw sound and rolls her eyes, smacking gently at his lapels. “He’s a kid. Kids are weird. I was doing weird kid stuff when I was his age, too.” “And you never stopped,” comes the dry response. “Charles, I know you worry, but he’s a little kid, lost in New York. I mean, my god, it’s like a movie! I couldn’t just leave him, and I wasn’t just going to give him to some cop, he’s probably an undocumented runaway or something-” and the rest of her rambling is drown out by Charles gasping and grabbing her, and her own muffled gasps of shock, because Betelgeuse has caught the bug. And also, he’s on the ceiling. He may have been trying to blend in, but the second he caught the scent of that delicious crunchy upperworld bug meat, everything else was out of mind. He’d spotted it on the ceiling, and had followed it up there, ignoring gravity to get what he wanted, and right as he pounced on it, nearly catlike, Charles and Emily had gasped. Their breather noises distract him long enough for the bug to skitter away, and he loses his concentration, and drops to the living room floor with a sickening crunch. Emily shrieks, and Charles panics, sprinting for the boy, certain he’ll find a dead child with a broken neck. Instead Betelguise sits up, his glamour disturbed from the fall, and the breathers get an eyeful of what he really looks like. There’s a beat. They’re all staring at each other for a long moment. “I… I might have brought a feral child into the house,” Emily admits sheepishly. You can read the entire thing, right now, over here

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

A brief list of other podcasts to look into:

1) Adventures in New America A world gone mad, in many formats and viewpoints.

2) Aftershocks  A young woman placed in an institution must escape.

3) ALICE ISN’T DEAD A lonely truck driver must search through supernatural mystery and chaos to find her missing wife.

4) Archive 81 Literally someone paid to listen to found footage, strange and bizarre found footage... and goes on a journey of their own, down a dark, bizarre path.

5) The Adventure Zone The mcelroy bros take on DnD and it’s as chaotically hysterical as it sounds.

6) The Archivist An artificial intelligence looking into CM-001. But what... is it?

7) Attention Hellmart Shoppers! Working retail... on the hellmouth. Literally.

8) Audiodiary of a Superhero The rise, fall and mediocrity of being a superhero... and how it came about.

9) Beasts of Bardon College Anthropomorphic animals and the trials and tribulations of entering college.

10) The Behemoth From the ocean comes a towering behemoth that does not speak, he walks across state after state, on a direct line to the coast on the other side of the continent. A small human being feels a calling to save the behemoth in the only way she knows how. [Additional podcast in this series, is IZZY, which gives another perspective]

11) The Black Tapes Follow down a path of mystery, lead by your host Alex... and Dr Strand, as they take on the supernatural elements of the world.

12) The Blood Crow Stories Human suffering creates energy, dear subject. For this reason, you hear the echoes of history in three different yet unique time periods, follow the lives and deaths of humans that were touched by a dark entity. Season 1 follows the SS Utopia, trying to hide certain rich persons from the war. Season 2 Blackchapel joins a posse of avengers on a ride, trying to stop a mystery from killing again. And Season 3... well, ongoing, but the Neon Lodge is a world set in the future where humanity still isn’t safe from the darkness.

13) The Box Addison Gilmore found a lockbox... and her life hasn’t been the same since.

14) The Bridge A big transcontinental bridge, now falling into disrepair, hides horrifying secrets that are carefully puzzled out through each episode.

15) The Bright Sessions Dr Bright provides therapy to some unique individuals.

16) Critical Role A DnD podcast that will knock your socks off.

17) The Earth Collective Humanity’s last historian details how they adapted to a hostile world, by always moving along. And never looking back.

18) The Elysium Project A chemical that can make you superhuman... but what cost must you pay?

19) End of All Hope An Alien Invasion. Follow three survivors trying to get the hell out of the targeted zones...

20) The Enoch Saga Humanity found a way to become immortal... now imagine being the only person allergic to the cure to death.

21) GONE Waking up alone, with no understanding of what happened, one woman strives to keep her mind together. Where has humanity gone, and why did she get left behind?

22) Heretic A young man, disabled and excommunicated by a certain cult, has to investigate the sudden series of bodies turning up in his life.

23) IMMUNITIES Aliens, they take ahold of you with a single glance. Some people are carriers, others are just pawns... and yet a third, rare subset, are immune. The world has changed, and survival is as much mental as physical now.

24) Inhale Tamara Tracer was a hero, and now she wants nothing more than to bury the past.

25) KAKOS INDUSTRIES For all your evil needs, including research into doing evil better, try Kakos Industries!

26) King Falls AM A big-time radio host. A small town that sees nothing supernatural about its ghostly, demonic and crytpid inhabitants... what could go wrong?

27) Lake Clarity A mystery of five teens going to an abandoned camp grounds in the woods, and only one returning with a story no one believes.

28) Lesser Gods Humanity is down to six teenagers, all bred to be the ‘saviours’; ironically, born to hopefully naturally conceive a child amongst the small pool, and save the human race. Except... perhaps they’re not conforming as they should.

29) Limetown A whole town disappeared, something happened there, but the information has been buried. One reporter strives to find the truth, and avoid being killed for it.

30) MARSCORP Imagine waking up in the future... a lot further than intended, to find the world you were meant to terraform is run by idiots who won’t listen to common sense.

31) Marsfall A crew tries to survive on the Red Planet... what could go wrong?

32) Organism Not human, an Other. Trying to understand.

33) The Orphans Teenagers, a crashed ship, a hostile planet. You know what comes next.

34) Paralyzed Sleep paralysis is terrifying... but what happens if the creature you see, is slowly invading the real world? And is now threatening the lives of your friends.

35) The Penumbra Podcast Join Juno Steel, a futuristic detective on multiple mysteries. Join the Second Citadel for kooky, fun adventures! 

36) The Phenomenon Forgot to put this on the FAVES list, actually. Something happened. The warning says do not look outside, do not look at the skies. Do not make noise. Do not make any more heat than you must. You will die... and what exists up there, is only the beginning.

37) Raising the Dead Again Necromancy in the modern age is a little more complicated than you’d think!

38) ReMade They died. All they had in common was death, and this strange rebirth. What have they been returned for... and why?

39) SAYER You are on a new world, part of an intergalactic workforce, in a station run by the AI SAYER. SAYER says jump, and you must... woe betide those who refuse.

40) The Strange Case of the Starship Iris A human adrift in space is saved by an unlikely crew...

41) Supervillain Corner A podcast by supervillains, for supervillains... no superheroes allowed!

42) Tale - A KNIGHT ADRIFT Join the lady knight fighting evil to defend her kingdom.

43) The Thrilling Adventure Hour In the style of old-timey radio hour, and with the occasional guest cameos, the most unique serials you ever will hear! Sparks Nevada the Marshall on Mars, Beyond Belief supernatural mysteries, and so many more!

44) Tunnels Find out what lives down there... and then regret it, for the rest of your short life.

45) Uncanny County Imagine the audio equivalent for the Twilight Zone. Enjoy yourself.

46) We Fix Space Junk Follow the insane adventures of space smugglers, and try not to get shot!

47) Welcome to Night Vale A normal little town, where we never question anything, and angels do not exist. If you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget.

48) We’re ALIVE! A zombie-survival story, and how the survivors coped in a world where flesh-eaters run rampant.

49) Wormwood A supernatural murder mystery, definitely engaging and exciting.

50) 2298 Profiles, as the network refers to humans, are cared for and raised for certain roles. Never deviate. Never.

[blustersquall]

Hey! If you’re taking requests at the moment and can find a way to fit it into your canon, I would absolutely love to see Arthur and Isabel’s first “I love you” 💛

Sorry this took a while for me to get to! It’s been a weird few days! I hope it is satisfactory. This takes place... during Chapter 6 at Beaver Hollow. I did a lot of random quests and a lot of hunting during Chapter 6 because everything was going to shit and I wanted Arthur to have some relax time.

Admittedly this is a bit out of the blue, but it works for them. I think. >.>

@rdr-oc-appreciation @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread

It would be at least another day, if not more, before Arthur and Isabel reached Van Horn. Not that there was any pressing matter pushing them in that direction, but a decent bed and a bath were definitely two things that would not go amiss, after about five days of camping and travel on horse back. 

Arthur knew they would make better time if they pushed the horses faster, but given they were both on the look out for orchids for Algernon Wasp, their pace was slow but the pay off would make up for it. 

He was becoming quite good at recognizing the different orchids Algernon requested, and going by the small cluster they had already, Arthur reasoned another two or three and they would have the amount requested. Juno and Valkyrie were hitched about twenty paces away, down a small hill while Arthur used his hunting knife to gently ease an orange bloomed flower from the trunk of a tree. He would look for more, while Isabel tracked whatever creature had caused her to halt them in the first place. 

As he slipped a flower into his satchel, there was a crack of a twig behind him and Arthur span on his heel, reaching down for the gun in his holster. He was met with a gun barrel pointing directly at his face. Behind the gun, was a man, short but suited, a bowler hat on his ginger hair. 

Pinkertons? Arthur realised. Alarmed, he glanced around behind the man for a sign of Isabel and saw nothing. 

“Can’t believe my luck!” the man said, pressing his thumb down on the hammer of his pistol. “When that drunk in the saloon said they saw Arthur Morgan pass through Annesburg, I didn’t believe it. But here you are,” he gestured, laughing to himself. “In the flesh.”

“An’ you are?”

“Agent Stephens.” He reached for the gun in Arthur’s hip holster and tossed it to the side about ten feet away. He did the same with the gun in his off-hand holster. Both guns lay in the dirt, out of reach. “Turn around, Mr Morgan. You’re worth more to me alive, than dead.”

“You don’t wanna be doin’ this...” Arthur growled. He glanced over the man before him, looking for a weakness. He was shaking a little, from fear or from excitement - it was hard to tell. The hand holding the gun was shaking. One false move and Agent Stephens looked prone to pulling the trigger. That meant Arthur couldn’t attack him. He wouldn’t be able to get a punch off quick enough. He wasn’t stupid. If he moved in a way that was too fast, or looked aggressive he knew he would wind up with a bullet between his eyes. 

“Turn around, Mr Morgan.” Agent Stephens repeated, his voice steady despite the trembling of his hand. 

Slowly, Arthur lifted both hands and began to turn so his back was to the Pinkerton. It occurred to Arthur how strange it was that the Agent was alone. Agent Milton was always flanked by Agent Ross. 

“Where’s yer partner?” asked Arthur, trying to engage in conversation while trying to think of a way to get out of this predicament. With his guns away from him at both sides he was at a disadvantage. He could grab his hunting knife and plunge it into Agent Stephens gut if he acted fast enough. But that would require retrieving the knife from his belt, and doing that would undoubtedly give away to Stephens his plan. 

“Shut up.” Stephans nudged the barrel of his gun into the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur grimaced, gritting his teeth. He wouldn’t go down like this. Not peaceful and quiet like this. “Lower your hands slowly.” Arthur did as he was told, lowering his hands a little at a time. Behind him, he heard the jangle of metal. 

Shackles. 

Cold metal closed around one of Arthur’s wrists. His heart was racing as fast as his mind. How could he have been caught unawares like this? After everything he was taught and told? How could he have let his guard down to be caught by some bumbling idiot who had probably never held a gun before, let alone shot one. 

“I can’t wait to bring you into Agent Milton,” Stephens said, speaking mostly to himself than to Arthur. “It’ll mean a promotion for me, for sure.”

Where was Isabel? Arthur hoped she was safe, perhaps she saw Stephens and ran to save her own skin. Not that Arthur would blame her. He didn’t want her getting involved or killed on his account. He wasn’t worth losing her life over. If she was safe, then that was fine. If she went back to Beaver Hollow and made it known what happened, then some members of the gang would come for him... Wouldn’t they?

Sadie and Charles, surely. John, he hoped so. Javier? ...Maybe. Dutch...? Dutch was so far removed from the man Arthur knew once upon a time, it was impossible to even try to imagine how he might act if Isabel alerted them all to his capture. 

The second shackle closed around Arthur’s other wrist. He clenched his hands. No plan formulated in his mind, and now with his hands bound like this, his options for escape were even less. He was tempted to whistle for Juno. She could charge Agent Stephens, trample him under her hooves... But he didn’t want to risk Stephens firing off and killing his horse. 

“Get moving, Mr Morgan.” Agent Stephens smacked the back of Arthur’s head with his gun. “No sudden moves. No back talk, y’hear?”

“Yea, yea, I hear ya.” Arthur replied, wearily. He took a heavy step, his foot sinking into the soft soil on the hillside. 

“HEY!”

Isabel’s voice came from above. Both Arthur and Agent Stephens looked up and there she was perched on a tree branch, bow string pulled back, arrow nocked. Before the Stephens could get off a shot, Isabel loosed the arrow. It whistled through the air piercing through Stephen’s right eye and out the back of his head with a sickening crack. Agent Stephens gave a gasp of shock, the gun fell from his hand, and his body followed, dropping and rolling down the hill. 

As Arthur found his voice, he turned his gaze back to Isabel. “When did you get up there?” he asked, watching her finding hand and foot holds and making her way down. 

“When he was puttin’ the shackles on you.” Isabel replied. She jumped the last ten or so feet from a branch onto the ground. “He was congratulatin’ ‘imself so much he didn’t hear a damn thing.” She went to Stephens body on the ground and dug through his pockets. Once she had the keys to the shackles, she went to Arthur. “You okay?” she asked once his hands were freed and the shackles were on the ground. “That was a nasty smack on the head...”

“I had worse.” Arthur offered her a wry smile. One Isabel returned, shifting her weight from one side to the other. “I was thinkin’ you mighta run off.” Arthur said, looping his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. “I wouldn’t have blamed you... if you had. Better t’save yer own skin, than risk yerself for me.”

“Arthur,” Isabel gave him a slightly withering look before sliding her hands along the lapels of his jacket, flattening the material to his chest. “You got me, Mr Morgan. I love you. I ain’t goin’ no where.”

She kissed him, but Arthur found himself unable to fully enjoy or reciprocate. His eyes were stuck open and his lungs were empty. She... loved him? Is that what she said? She loved him? Was she serious? He didn’t think he would hear those sentiments from someone... ever again after Mary. He never thought anyone would feel that way about him again. Especially not now with his illness...

But Isabel... she loved him? And she said it with no mirth, and no tone of mocking. She was sincere... At least, sounded sincere. She was earnest and forthright and...

Oh God, she loved him.

“Arthur--”

“I love you,” he blurted out, blinking hard at the confusion and worry on Isabel’s face. Immediately, he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed and inwardly cursing. “I... I mean...” He searched for a way to fix his uncouth confession, but after a few seconds and bereft of inspiration, he sighed, turned and marched himself towards one of the guns Agent Stephens had thrown to the side. He took his time retrieving it, cleaning it of dirt and examining it for damage, glancing back to see Isabel collecting the other handgun. 

He went to where Juno and Valkyrie were standing. Nearby was Agent Stephens body. Arthur began to kick leaf litter and the fallen foliage over his corpse in the hopes it might hide him from passers by. Or, at the very least, by he and Isabel some time while they left this area. If they were lucky, perhaps some hungry wolves or a hungry cougar would happen upon Agent Stephens and the world would forever wonder what happened to the upstart Pinkerton agent. 

Isabel joined him. She picked up bundles of leaves and fronds of ferns, tossing them onto the body. When Arthur was satisfied it was mostly covered, he tossed some slabs of meat used for baiting carnivorous creatures onto the heap. The scent would attract them faster. 

After she handed him his gun and Arthur had it securely holstered, he unhitched Juno and started to lead here away from the scene. Isabel caught up to him, leading Valkyrie by her reins. When Isabel took his hand, sliding her fingers between his, Arthur did not resist. They walked in silence through the trees a few minutes, following the path through the forest.

“Did you mean it?” asked Isabel, her eyes fixed forward.

Arthur did not need to ask what she was referring to. He nodded, “yes.”

Isabel smiled, “me too.”

I don’t hate this ending!Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know in comments/reblogs/tag flailing!Feedback feeds writers, you guys!

[jeaneybean]

Storming castle werewolf

with a lot less storming and a lot more ‘how do I  manipulate everyone and not get ourselves killed’

Entering town Wolf-Wolf paws at his nose and is unable to follow the scent anymore. While Nitahn takes Wolf Wolf around the marketplace to see if he can catch any scents while Vera and Oz find a room for the night and board the donkeys. After Nitahn doesn’t find anything he finds the inn, where Vera and Oz have found out that there’s been a lot of travelers in the area, and that there’s been a lot of activity at the castle. The group has dinner (Vera nearly losing her hand to offering Wolf Wolf some meat) and they head to bed.

The next morning they again get out around town, heading to the church for a bit. Nothing evil there, but they slightly interupt service when they bring in a wolf and a fucking horse (since Steve has again hidden his horn) into the building. After Nitahn makes sure there’s not a wedding ceremony happneing because oz has him so paranoid he just leaves. After a bit more searching the town and asking about Nitahn’s ‘brother’ they head up to the castle to try and get an audience. A man comes from the castle to ask them their business, to which Vera replies that they’re there to pay respect to the family on their way through the area, and that they have family business to discuss. After he leaves after promising to pass along the information Vera feins that she’s made a faux paus and didn’t ask for his name. He’s Hanz the younger, the younger sibling of the Schwarzesholz family. Vera introduces the party as the Isha group, earning herself ‘We ain’t never heard no Isha clan’ “Then I’m doing my job right.”.

They head to the inn for the night, and the next day Oz starts annotating the letter from Vera’s husband and realizes that he’s kind of written a reply. He asks her if he can write her husband and Vera says of course he can. Her husband is brilliant, but he doesn’t make friends easily and he’d enjoy someone to talk magic with. She starts trying to teach Wolf-Wolf to ‘take it nice’ when it comes to eating food, but doesn’t get much headway. After patting his ears she tells him his fur is weird, then remarks to Oz that she doesn’t really have much experience with animals. Her husband has a cat that’s 28 years old, though. Oz scores a good knowledge nature roll to know that’s unreasonably old for a cat. That, with the additional information from the letter that focused on Necromany questions and how Vera both fears undead and has an interest in anything creepy/vampire skeletons, Oz has a suspicious that her husband is a necromancer.

A letter comes for the party, and when Vera realizes it’s gibberish she hands it over to Nitahn, who can read it for traveler’s cant. It’s from Fyodora, and she says that there’s a back pathway into the castle and if they come after dark she’ll be able to meet with them, because she’s up in the keep. So the party gets ready, Nitahn taking a bath to make himself nice and Vera harassing him while he’s taking the bath. “Are we friends, Havilah?” “not right now we’re not!”

After asking Steve if he wants to come to the party sets out, going along a quiet cliffside path until they get to a dead end. Nitahn knocks a few times, and a footman opens the door. He leads them through the castle, Steve following after. The group passes by a corridor that smells heavily of death and decay. The Footman explains that’s where they keep the remains of those who don’t take the change. It gives a somber sort of feel as the group follows in the castle. 

At a point the footman leaves them, giving direction on where to go from there. Vera asks him if he’ll be okay, and the footman says he’ll be fine if no one catches him. Vera advises him to go back to Steve if he’s in danger, as Steve had to hang back in a more narrow passage. They continue towards where they were told to go, Nitahn’s enlightened ring fading when they’re almost at the wall. So in pitch darkness they push forward, Nitahn knocking on the wall. 

A hidden passage opened and there’s Vlad staring out at the group unimpressed. Vera leans to the side and gives him a shit eating grin at the sight of his eye, which while still there now has a scar over it. “Hey.” She says and Vlad grunts unhappily. After a moment though Fyodora is there and Nitahn squeezes past Vlad to check in on her. She’s fine, dressed well. Vlad’s also dressed a lot better.

Surprisngly blows don’t happen and the group is willing to listen to Vlad and Fyodora to learn what’s happened. Vlad had been sent to grab Fyodora and bring her south, because the head of the clan is trying to consolodate power and build up forces in the wake of rumors of Von Rothrine strength waning. Juno, previousy married into the Vodyvolk clan, sent her son Vlad north to find a specific halfblood. Bastard daughter to the pack leader of the Vodyvolk, a girl who’d been passed on after birth to a group of Travelers. Fyodora is Vlad’s half sister. Due to her high status and worth, Juno has yet to marry her off like she has several others. The ones that possesed the ability to slightly control their wolf form when they were infected were inducted into the family, and all that didn’t posses the ability to change are in the cellars.

Vlad pops an additional prerequesite to the plan: there are six others waiting for the full moon to be infected and face the change. He wants them all out, because traveling with Fyodora and getting to know her has helped him realize that this plan is a horrible plan. Vera asks if he’ll face reprecussions for this and he’s basically like ‘if I’m caught, yeah’ because being the son of the effective ruler of the pack doesn’t mean a lot if you betray the pack. Vera’s like ‘well, we’ll have to get you out too then’. They have some banter, with Vera being like ‘Hi, daddy issues. I’m also daddy issues.” which earns a laugh from Vlad.

They (and I mean Vera, Oz has started to harass Nitahn) as Vlad various questions about the family. What Juno’s goals are, what’s the proper terms of address, how to adress the family, what subjects to avoid. That kind of thing. And Vera starts getting a plan to cover up the old one that she can’t use anymore (She was going to blame Vlad for everything and point out what a security risk he was for kidnapping a girl from Von Rothrine territory, dragging her through the territory, getting into a fight in town, all that jazz. That won’t work.) because she’s wants to get some use out of Anton Bellek and his fuckery.

They say their goodbyes to Fyodora and Vlad and head back out the way they came. Once they get back to the catacombs however, when they pass the smelly hallway they all hear a noise. Vera doesn’t detect any evil, but they keep hearing a sort of wet meat smacking noise, like something’s moving. Instead of investigating that they get the fuck out of dodge and head back to the inn.

Fyodora sends a second letter that starts out readable by anyone as ‘I don’t want to see you again Havilah’ but he can read (after the initial shock) that she’s still safe and that an invite to the castle for dinner should come in the next few days. And, indeed, Hanz the younger comes himself to the inn to extend the invitation, asking for any dietary concerns like a proper polite host. They exchange plesantries and are told to dress nice if they’re able before Hanz leaves. The eldest barmaid is like ‘Well, that sounds interesting!’ and Vera’s like ‘oh, doesn’t it?”

Oz takes to the wagon to edit the dress Nitahn bought Vera to fit her and edit a set of armitage’s dress clothes to fit himself while Nitahn heads into town to buy something to cover up his smell on advice of Vlad. He buys two vials of perfume and after Wolf-Wolf leads him to a soap vendor and is like ‘hey i found that scent we were looking for!!!!’ Nitahn buys him a treat. The party gets ready and Oz i able to tell that the cologne Nitahn bought is based in fox urine. He doesn’t tell him and Nitahn douses himself liberally with it. Without their armor but with their silvered weapons the party heads to the castle after a last minute stop to buy a cask of whiskey to offer as a gift.

Vlad had warned them that there would likely be a large number of people in the hall for dinner as a show of force, because Juno has been making a lot of family members. Vera steps foward and adresses the family: first Deidric the clan head, then she adresses Juno as the countes of the vodyvolk wilds (which earns an eyebrow raise, thanks for the in Vlad) and when Hanz arrives a bit late she addresses him as proper. Juno looks to Vlad and he gives a sharp shake of his head; she’s asking if they’re the ones who nearly killed him a few days prevously. (He’s got a gnarly scar on his abdomen, Vera apologized for nearly bisecting him)

Plesantries are made and Vera explains that they’ve been in the country long enough that if you play meek and skirt under the lords of the land then you’re a target, so visiting the family to pay them duty due is only proper. She also alludes to having an interest in finding like minds against the Von Rothrines, citing the town of Hora that the group met in four months ago that was filled with kind people and then very abruptly wasn’t from the thirst. “Revenge, or justice?” “Justice, on a grand scale.”

Having piqued the interest of the countess they settle in to dinner. Nitahn sits by Deidric and gets talked to about hunting for a bit, and Juno calls in the wolves. Literally. Like 30 wolves come ito the room and start picking on the scraps. Questions start coming Nitahn’s way, like “So, where are you from?” “oh, all over, I’m a traveler.” “Traveler, huh? So, dragonport, dormond, rusk?” “All of the above!” “you’re pretty hairy.” “Yeah....” “That’s a nice wolf you got there. Few steps from wild, huh?” “Yeah, I found him, he’s a stray.” “You have a good connection with him? Like, almost understand him?” “Well, I’m working on it, he doesn’t understand me the best.” And he lets them down by not being a werewolf, but shortly after gains some points when someone else asks “So how’d he lose the ear?” and Nitahn awkwardly is like “He bit me. So i bit him back.” leading to anyone listening to burst into laughter and appreciaction. One asks him why he smells like fox piss, to which Nitahn looks betrayed at Oz. Oz doesn’t know why nitahn is looking at him but he smirks down the table.

Oz is across from an older woman who’s got her eyes set on a sweet little young thing and seductivley eats a chunk of meat. Oz politely smiles and  makes small talk with Hanz.

Meanwhile Vera’s doing her best to deal with the beast herself. She explains they’ve traveled the north and when Juno asks about it’s status, she tells her about Anton Bellek and his silver mine ran by humans. Getting a steady supply of silver into the hands of humans aligned with them (or wolves in human form) could be useful. lAs well as having a vampire ally, one who killed his master. Vera expresses distaste and how she’s unable to work for him due to her code of ethics, and Juno remarks how there’s no good or evil. (Which sounds like something someone evil would say). Juno presses Vera to know what she’s after and Vera tries simpering away, to mixed sucess. Juno does allow her to back down, stating that it’s soemthing to go over at another time. She also makes a bit of small talk, asking her how far along she is. Here the mask slips when Vera does the math, and, oh fuck she’s six months along.

Juno has the cask of whiskey they brought brought out, and suggests that Wolf-Wolf take the first drink because they’re far less likely to have given him protection from poison. The poor boy doesn’t like whiskey, with Nitahn apologizing and explaing they’ve only given him beer before. Booze is offered to the two men, with none offered to Vera because Juno’s been pregnant, she’s not going to make a pregnant woman drink. She also extends an invitation to stay at the keep, which Vera says she’ll get her companion’s opinion on before accepting or denying the genrous gesture.

Deidric puts an arm around NItahn and invites him out to a hunt, with Vlad interjecting and being like ‘oh, uncle, he’s probably tired’ and getting him out of hunting what probalby would be humans. Vlad also compliments him on the fox piss cologne, they’ll be smelling it for weeks when it rains. Nitahn is less enthused about this entire thing. The three gather and talk for a quick moment, Nitahn vetoing that idea and being like ‘blame it on me, say I’m not used to being in places like this beccause I’m a traveler.’ They have a bit of banter, with Oz bringing up to Nitahn whas would happen to Vera if she’s bitten. She’s a paladin, but what about the baby? To which Vera immedently gets a sour face and is like ‘I don’t- no. You know what? You need to remind me to ask Nik what happens, becuase I’m not thinking about this. if he didn’t want to get these letters he wouldn’t have pulled me out of the canals as a child’ and explains to them that she’d been trying to swim to the tarrasque. Nitahn knows that it’s basically monster godzilla and is like ‘whyyyyy’.

They make polite exit and head back to the inn for the night, finding that Steve had gotten baked with the stable boy and probalby has punked him a few times with the horn. They go to bed, and Vera dreams. There’s a bear or maybe she’s the bear, she knows what her name used to mean. And she’s running, and there’s wolves, but is she running away from the wolves or are the wolves running from her? Then it changes and the bear is running to the wolves, rearing up on it’s hind feet and it stands tall and powerful above them.

She wakes up and is like ‘I blame you’ to her stomach before doing her usual prayers. And when she opens her eyes at the end there’s a bear there. She knows what it is and why it’s there, and all she can do is reach out and grab it’s nose and start crying.

oz hears the sound of her crying through the door and gets Nitahn, hwo opens the door to find Vera on her knees and sobbing, reaching up to cradle the bear’s head. He closes the door and asks oz ‘Was there a bear in there when you left?” to Oz’s stunned response of no. Nitahn opens the door again and is like ‘Vera, where’d that bear come from?’ and Vera responsd in high pitched sobbing. 

Eventually she calms down enough to be understood, saying ‘He’s too big to fit through the door’ “Well, how’d he get through the door?” ‘he didn’t’ “...How did he get through the window?” ‘he didn’t?’ Nitahn looks at the intact walls, ceiling, and floor, before looking back at her. “How did he get in here?”

“He’s mine. I thought if I fell any night it’d be last night, but he’s here and he’s mine.” And with that Oz can make his knowledge religion check to guess that this is Vera’s paladin mount, a magic creature gifted to her by  her goddess. And it’s a bear.

Vera is later displeased at the realiziation that the bear comes with a saddle and she’s expected to ride it.

[ernmark]

Because I’ve been posting a whole lot of really sad stuff lately, here’s something a little bit more fun.

The prompt comes courtesy of Kya, who requested Juno undertake a very particular kind of case, with some details based on a conversation with @crownsnbirds​. 

Rita’s laid down the law: there will be no more dry spells in the Juno Steel Detective Agency. Juno has two weeks to recover, just long enough for the sunburn to finish peeling and the vertigo to fade into mild dizzy spells when he stands up too fast, and then he’s back on the job. 

He should probably thank her for that, at least when he’s done being annoyed at her about it. 

After everything that’s happened, the current case is a relief. There’s no conspiracy, no murder, no hostage situations, no rigged elections. Just a run-of-the-mill Uptown blue blood whining because their favorite tiara went missing.

“No, not a tiara,” insists Theophania Frost. “It’s a diadem. An antique from my dearest grandmama.” 

“Your... diadem.” Goddamn rich people. “Right. Now are you sure it’s actually stolen? Have you checked with your staff? Made sure it’s not out for cleaning or repairs or whatever?” Hell, maybe somebody left it in the refrigerator by mistake. God knows he’s done that with his eye patch once or twice after a long night.

“Detective Steel, I wouldn’t have called you here if I wasn’t absolutely certain it’s been stolen-- and I know who did it, too!”

Juno sighs. The tone of their voice tells him he’s going to be in for a long day. “Do you?”

Frost leans in conspiratorially and drops their voice to a whisper, as if they might be overheard. “Have you ever heard of the Bouquet Bandit?”

Oh god, not this again.

“Is this one of those crooks with a theme song trying to get into the Fortezza? Because this is a hell of a bad time to cash in on that deal.” 

“I don’t know, Detective, but I’m not the only one who’s been stolen from. Sam Spare, you know, the botanist? Xir diamond shears went missing a month ago. And Telemnachus Wake’s collection of antique horsehair necklaces was taken two months ago, and on the same day, they were sent flowers.”

“Flowers.” 

Frost takes Juno’s exasperation for enthusiasm. “That’s right! Every time he takes something, he always leaves behind a dozen roses.”

“Thus the name, I got it.” 

Why did Rita have to pick now to start doing her job?

Whoever this Bouquet Bandit is, he’s good. The crime scene is spotless, and there’s no signs of forced entry whatsoever. While Rita goes over Frost’s security system for footage and signs of tampering, Juno looks into the other alleged crimes of the serial burglar, looking for something they had in common. 

The best bet is in the delivery personnel-- people this rich get a lot of deliveries, and nobody thinks twice about a person in uniform with a box in hand walking right up to the front door. There are a few people on the security feeds that Juno pegs as suspicious, and not just because of the one thing they all seem to have in common: no matter where they are or what they’re doing, Juno can never get a good look at their faces. 

He scours the timestamps on the videos, looking for others that might give a better angle or reveal some kind of other identifying mark, but there’s no luck so far.

And honestly? He’s kind of loving it. After all the shit that went down, he’s been in need of a good, clean, straightforward case. It’s been too long since he’s done legitimate investigating that he could feel good about.

The thought barely has the chance to cross his mind before he hears Rita start talking to someone at her desk. A moment later, she’s poking her head inside his office.

“Hey, Boss? You got a delivery.” 

She looks about as concerned as he feels. Because in her hand is a bouquet of twelve red roses.

“What the hell?” He starts to his feet. “Rita, did you see who delivered these?” 

“Don’t worry, boss, I already asked. It was just a kid. She said some man stopped her on the sidewalk and gave her a whole bunch of money to deliver these to you.” 

“Did she see his face?” 

“I asked, but she wouldn’t say nothin’. She just gave me the flowers and ran.”

Juno grabs the card from among the roses and turns it over. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Juno’s still got the card in his pocket when he arrives at the meeting point. Rita insisted she come with him when she saw, but this time he was the one who put his foot down-- the last time she joined him on a job, she fell in love with a murderer, and this time he’s going to cut off the inevitable tragedy before he has to buy two pints of ice cream and sit through her forty favorite sad movies.

The card itself is infuriatingly unhelpful. The paper is high-class cardstock, but nothing so fancy that you couldn’t get it at any stationary store in town. The text is digitally printed in a fancy but publicly available font. The message is short:

Detective Juno Steel

Meet me at the Jacobi Convention Center at 3 PM on July 5.

Don’t be late.

It screams ambush-- which is another reason why Rita isn’t coming.

Even if the ambush is apparently going to happen at the local Y2K Faire.

It makes sense in its own ridiculous way: there are hundreds of people coming and going, half of them in costume, and everyone’s going to be carrying a shopping bag or a replica glock or sword or whatever, and there’ll be enough reenactors demonstrating fake duels that nobody’s going to notice if things get heated until it’s too late.

Old Americana-style signposts mark the different sections of the faire, their directions spelled out in big white letters against reflective green rectangles. One catches Juno’s eye: its metal pole is decorated with a dozen roses. It looks like a regular decoration, but he takes it as a sign and follows its lead. It’s not hard to find a second sign post covered in roses a little further, and another, until he’s on the far end of the convention center. By now the trail is easy to follow, laid out in a path of rose petals on the floor. They’re fresh, not quite dried out yet, not nearly as trampled as they should be, given how many people are here. The bandit can’t have been here more than half an hour ago, tops.

The trail leads to an exotic animal exhibit based on old-fashioned Earth petting zoos. Which... can’t be right. Juno checks all the way around the enclosure, just to make sure he got it right, but no. That’s where it ends. 

What the hell is he supposed to do with this?

He stares, perplexed, at children reaching through the bars to offer handfuls of pellets and sliced vegetables to cows and ponies and old Earth species of rabbits-- the kind that are fluffy and bright-eyed and small enough to hold in your arms.

The kind I’m used to eat carrots and wrinkle their little nosies.

The thought makes Juno’s heart ache a little bit. Reminders of Nureyev always do. 

He’s staring into the enclosure when he notices something that doesn’t belong: a bit of paper, fancy card stock the same stiffness and shade as the card in his hand, carefully pinned to the wool of a star-horned goat on the other end of the enclosure. He hurries over to the spot of fence closest to it, but as soon as he gets there, it’s on the move, meandering around to the other side.

“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath, and sets his foot on the metal gate. He wasn’t planning to get cow dung on his shoes today, but whatever.

“Hey!” barks a man who smells like he’s been working with these things for a long, long time. “You can’t go in there.”

Juno would ignore him and make the leap anyway, but the guy grabs him, and hot damn does he have a strong grip. Apparently wrangling a bunch of four-legged antiques for a living builds muscles or something. 

“I said you can’t go in there,” the caretaker repeats slowly. It’s a warning. It won’t be repeated again.

There’s even odds that Juno would win any fight between them, but no matter how it goes, he’ll end the fight by being dragged out by security, which means he’ll lose his only lead on this case. The Bandit’s got a game to play, and Juno intends to win it.

And that means playing by the rules.

“Sorry about that,” he says as sweetly as he can get away with. “I’m just so excited. I’ve never seen a goat up close before.”

The caretaker gives him a weird look, but backs off. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have to do your watching from out here. It stresses the animals out too much to let people into the pen.”

“Do you think you could bring one over for me to get a closer look?” He points at the star-horned goat with the note on its wool. “How about that one over there?”

“Listen, buddy,” the caretaker says. “We can’t do that. If you want them to come closer, we sell food pellets for a cred a bag.”

Sometimes, being a Private Eye means asking the hard questions-- like whether he’s going to include “petting zoo food pellets” in his expense report at the end of a case.

He decides to swallow the cost along with his pride and he buys a bag.

And then he buys two more; the one goat he’s after looks hungry, but apparently not as much as the rest of the animals in the enclosure. In seconds he’s swarmed by livestock, and Juno runs his hands over all of them, just in case the goat wasn’t the only one with a note in its fur.

And... okay, so they are really soft. It’s not like this is his first time at a Y2K Faire, but he’s never bothered to pay money for a chance to pet the animals. It’s actually kind of nice. Especially the cow-- she keeps bumping his hand with her soft, velvety nose, and scrubs her long tongue over the palm of his hand in a way that should be a lot more gross than it is. It’s a shame there aren’t more of these on Mars.

Sure, a few people are complaining about the smell, but Juno spent half his childhood wading through the sewers with giant rabbits. If anything, the smell of hay and manure and animal fur feels a little bit nostalgic. 

It’s not until he trades a handful of pellets to a six-year-old in exchange for a bunch of carrot slices that the goat finally starts heading his way, nosing at one hand while he fumbles to unpin the note from its wool. 

Just like he guessed, it’s the a perfect match for the card that came with the flowers, with the same paper, the same font, and the same obnoxious lack of helpful information.

Hungry, Detective?

Meet me in the Foode Courte.

Even without the little heart at the bottom of the card, there’s something ridiculously flirtatious about the whole thing. But that’s this thief’s schtick, isn’t it? Some kind of hopeless romantic who goes around tossing roses all over the place. Just watch, when Juno finds him he’ll be wearing a top hat and cape. Maybe that’s why he picked this place to sneak around in, so his getup won’t cause any suspicion.

After he washes himself off, Juno follows the signs to the circle of kiosks selling “authentic” twentieth-century cuisine-- things with bizarre names like “deep fried twinkies” and “mashed potatoes” and “blooming onions”. Thankfully, the trail of rose petals on the floor leads him past the more exotic options to a plain-old popcorn stand that’s offering nothing more historic than cheddar-and-caramel among its flavors. The smell of the popcorn is subtle compared to the other foods lingering in the air, but when he’s this close, it’s enough to make his stomach grumble.

Just like before, there’s another note, tucked into one of the pre-portioned bags of popcorn, and he swipes the beg the second the cashier’s back is turned. All expenses paid or not, there’s something criminal about charging seven creds for a quarter’s worth of popcorn. 

Okay, so the popcorn isn’t half bad. Not good enough to justify that price tag, but still, not bad. And he was just thinking he could use a snack.

The note is spotted and translucent with cooking oil, but it’s still readable enough. 

Join me for a game.

“That’s funny, I thought we were already playing one,” Juno says aloud, just in case the Bandit is watching him... which he probably is, dammit.

There’s a section of kiosks dedicated to old Earth carnival games, and sure enough, there’s another trail of rose petals leading him to the right booth: a target shooting game backed up against a funnel cake stand.

He’s not even surprised when he finds the corner of another note sticking out of a cut in an oversized teddy bear.

“Joke’s on you,” he mutters. “I’m great at these things.” 

He used to do these all the time when he was in high school, winning the biggest prize he could carry just to show off for his dates. 

He pays a couple creds to the lady behind the counter and takes aim. All three shots go wide, barely hitting the target.

Anywhere else, that might disappoint him, but not here. Sure, his aim isn’t ever going to be as great as it was when he had the THEIA on and active, but these games are always rigged. The trick is that now he knows which way the laser is skewed, and he corrects his aim accordingly. 

Seven bulls-eyes later, and he’s walking away from the stand with a stuffed bear almost as big as he is. Rita’s going to love this thing-- maybe it’ll make up for not letting her come.

He slips the last note out of the little hole in the bear and unfolds it.

If you want to look into my face, you’ll have to look into your own.

I’ll be waiting in the hall of mirrors.

Finally something direct.

There’s no trail of rose petals this time-- just an “out for lunch” sign and an unlocked door on the old twentieth-century attraction. He never got the appeal of places like this, where everything is dim and warped and confusing. But then, he never really got the appeal of mirrors, either. 

He leaves the bag of popcorn and stuffed bear just inside the door, and he sets out. 

“Alright, I’m here,” he calls into the twisting halls. “Enough of this scavenger hunt. Come out and we’ll settle this.”

His only answer is in footsteps. He whirls to follow the source of the sound, but he only manages to catch reflections of a retreating figure. In the warped glass, he can’t make out a face or a body type, but there’s something about the pattern of the footsteps that feels familiar. 

The Bandit is running, so he gives chase. He keeps seeing flashes of the man, bits and pieces that should all fit together but don’t. All of it feels too familiar. 

And then he’s out of the hall of mirrors and into another corner of the funhouse, this one full of holograms and wax figurines, all of them of celebrities and historical figures and beautiful people through the ages. Some of them are moving, repeating cliched one-liners and overused quotations, and it’s all coming from everywhere, sending false signals from every corner. His senses are so confused that he’s even smelling things he shouldn’t, animals and food and cologne.

Cologne.

“No,” he whispers. “No, it can’t be.” But the more he looks at it, the more obvious it is.

Pet the fuzzy animals. Have a snack. Play a game. Hell, even the flowers--

It’s so obvious. It’s terrible. 

Jesus, why do people keep doing this to him? Sending him on cases that aren’t cases-- it wasn’t even a year ago that he got dragged all over Oldtown for Sasha’s performance review, and then Ramses staged a goddamn assassination for a job interview, and then apparently the stakeout that was a bad excuse to get him to rest up from a stab wound, and now this? 

“Goddammit, Nureyev,” he snaps. “Is this supposed to be a date?”

Nureyev is still out of sight, lost in the dim lights and mannequins, but his voice wafts over Juno. “Are you having fun? I certainly am.”

“You couldn’t just ask--” No, he couldn’t. Because that isn’t Nureyev’s style, and Juno’s never exactly been the type to openly accept that kind of invitation. So he changes tracks. “I gotta say, the location threw me. A Y2K Faire seems kind of low-brow for you.”

“That’s hardly my fault. It did take you some time to respond to my calling card, after all.”

His... oh, goddammit, the serial robberies. “You’ve been trying to get my attention.”

“For months now, thank you for noticing. And you’ve been playing hard to get.” 

Juno sighs. “I wasn’t playing. I was just...” How is he supposed to even put it into words? “My head’s been a real mess.” 

“I can imagine,” Nureyev hums, and his voice is soft and so close that Juno can feel his breath in his ear. “Would you like to talk about it over dinner?”

[pjminyng]

Even If It’s a Lie

this is terribly written and I butchered a beautiful myth and I hate myself but fuck it @ima-dead-girl-walking you’re the worst but ily

Based on The Myth of Psyche & Eros (Cupid)

Writing in Italics are directly from the written myth

A long time ago, when gods and humans walked along the same paths, a king and queen had three daughters. The two eldest daughters had charms that were more than common amongst mere mortals, but the beauty of the youngest was so extraordinary that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. The fame of the youngest daughter’s beauty was so great that strangers from far and wide visited in crowds to awe, looking at her with admiration, paying her that homage which is due only to Venus herself. However, Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. As she passed along, the people sang her praises and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers. The homages to a mortal gave great offense to the real Venus.

"Am I then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty." Venus exclaimed, shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation.

Filled with anger and jealousy, Venus called upon her winged son Cupid. Cupid was mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. She points out Veronica of Psyche to him.

"My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give your mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

In his mother’s garden, there are two fountains, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. He prepared to obey the commands of his mother, filling two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver. He traveled to the chamber of Veronica, who was asleep when he snuck through her window. Shedding a few drops from the bitter fountain, he glossed them over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity. With the point of his arrow, he poked her side. Veronica awoke at the touch and opened her eyes upon Cupid (himself invisible). She startled the God that in his confusion he had pricked himself with his own arrow. Regardless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the damage he had done. Thus he poured drops of the sweet waters over her silken ringlets.

From then on, Veronica of Psyche was frowned upon by Venus who derived no benefit from all her charms. True, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor peasant presented himself to demand her hand in marriage. Her two elder sisters of moderate charms had long been married to two royal princes; but Veronica, in her lonely chamber, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love.

The king and queen, afraid that they had angered the gods, sought for guidance from the Oracle of Apollo, the god of light, reason, and prophecy. Apollo stated that the virgin is destined to be the bride of no mortal lover. That she would marry a cruel and savage, serpent-like winged evil; a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist. The king was told to abandon his daughter on top a rocky crag where her future husband awaited her. The dreadful decree of the oracle filled the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief.

"Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive that I am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me." Veronica of Psyche said wistfully.

Accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home.

While Veronica stood on the ridge of the rocky crag,  alone and shivering with fear as her eyes filled with tears, the gentle Zephyr the West Wind lifted her from the earth and carried her to her new home.

When Zephyr set her down, Veronica looked round and came across a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. Trudging carefully, she entered it. In the midst she discovered a fountain, filtering clear and crystal waters. Behind it was a magnificent palace that was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter.

Every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words,

"Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. Retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit, repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there." A voice addressed her while her eyes were occupied.

Though she saw no one, Veronica gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectarous wines. Her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.

“Your husband awaits you in the bedroom if you dare to meet him.” The voices whispered after her feast.

She was led to the room, twisting the cool feeling doorknob, opening the door. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, the feeling of fear returning. However, Veronica continued to hold her head up high, telling herself she was brave enough. The bedroom was pitch black, so dark that she couldn’t see her husband. She walked around carefully, coming across a figure. She reached out to touch the figure called her husband, but he didn't feel serpent-like at all. His skin was soft, and his voice and manner were gentle. She asked him who he was, but he told her this was the one question he could never answer.

"Why should you wish to behold me?" he said. "Have you any doubt of my love? Have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of you is to love me. I would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god."

“But if do not know who my husband is, how will I be able to address my love to the monster I'm supposed to fear? I understand that I mustn’t see your true form in order for us to love each other as equals, all I request is a name that I may associate my husband with.”

The room remained silent for a while, almost as if she was the only one in the room. Veronica could hear herself breathe, but could still feel the presence of the figure in front of her.

“Jason, Jason Dean, JD for short.” The figure spoke.  

“Jason Dean, how modern of you.” Veronica couldn’t help but smile, not that it could be seen in the darkness of the room.

This reasoning somewhat quieted Veronica for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. His visits continued night after night as she lived in the palace; but at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. Before long, after many months of night visits and their love being the only light that filled their dark room, Veronica found herself pregnant. She rejoiced but was also conflicted. How could she raise her baby with a man she’d never seen?

Veronica of Psyche resisted as well as she could, but her own curiosity was too strong for her to resist. That night she approached her sleeping husband, prepared her lamp and a sharp knife in case he as cruel a monster as he claimed to be. Hiding them out of sight, when he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose. Letting the flame of the oil burn into bright fiery embers, she looked around. Her lamp shined brightly and unveiled her sleeping husband, beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods. With his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, darker than the night sky, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring.

As she leaned the lamp over to have a better view of his face, a drop of burning oil fell onto his shoulder. Startled, JD opened his eyes and fixed them upon her. Without saying a word, he spread his black wings and flew out of the window. Veronica, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. With the twinkle of the stars and the moon, she caught a glimpse of his face, seeing that her husband was not only the name ‘Jason Dean’ but Cupid, Eros, the god of sexual attraction. He who sent gods and humans lusting after each other with the pinpricks of his arrows. JD, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped mid-flight for an instant, turning to look at his bride.

"Oh foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After I disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? But go; return to your family. I inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. Love cannot dwell with suspicion."

He didn't believe that gods and humans could love as equals. Now that she knew his true form, their hopes for happiness were dashed. So saying, he fled away, leaving Veronica prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations. When she had recovered some degree of composure, she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had seemed to vanish, their beauty no longer visible to her. Left in her despair, once again upset and alone, the unseen voice returned and told her that it was indeed possible for her and JD to love each other as equals. Encouraged, she set out to find him.

Veronica wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. She was brought upon a lofty mountain, having its brow a magnificent temple. Sighing, hoping that her husband was inside, she strode in. However, Veronica was met with an angered Venus instead.

"Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you, at last, remember that you really have a mistress? Or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? You are so ill favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. I will make trial of your housewifery." Venus spat with an angry countenance.

Veronica was faced with impossible tasks given by Venus. The first when the goddess ordered Veronica to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons.

"Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening."

Then Venus departed and left her to her task; but Veronica, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. While she sat despairing, watching from afar, Cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. The leader of the anthill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment.

As twilight approached, Venus returned breathing odors and crowned with roses. Seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away.

Next morning Venus ordered Veronica, demanding that she bring Venus the fleece of the golden sheep, who had a reputation for disemboweling stray adventurers.

"Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."

She obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command.

"Oh maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." Said a compassionate river god, teaching her how to collect the sheep’s wool that had snagged on briars.

Veronica soon returned to Venus with her arms full of the golden fleece, but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress.

"I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. But I have another task for you. Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.' Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening."

Veronica traveled down to Erebus by foot, determined to convince Proserpina, queen of the dead, to put a drop of her beauty in a box for Venus. Once again, the unseen voice came to Veronica’s aide. Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again.

But the voice added, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."

Encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways traveled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace of Proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from Venus. Presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day, but having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box.

"What, shall I, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!"

Thus Veronica carefully opened the box but found nothing thereof any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her body. She fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion.

However, JD, now recovered from his wound, was no longer able to bear the absence of his beloved Veronica. He slipped through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber, flying to the spot where his bride lay. He gathered up the sleep from her body, closing it again in the box, and waked Veronica with a light touch of one of his arrows. He told her he’d been wrong and foolish, that her fearlessness in the face of the unknown proved that she was more than his equal. He brought his bride up to the heavenly assembly, he handed her a cup ambrosia, the nectar of the gods.

"Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall I ever break away from the knot in which we are tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual." JD smiled at her.

Thus Veronica of Psyche became at last united to Eros, her Jason Dean. And in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was Hedone.

this was terrible and I murdered a myth 

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/no-rest-for-the-light-filled/

No Rest For the Light Filled

No Rest For the Light Filled

By A Gift From Gaia

How are you feeling? Wanting yet more alone time? Perhaps it feels like a plug has been pulled and all is leaving…..and it could feel a little confusing.

I’m seeing a number of posts stating how “it’s” going to get easier…..let’s get one thing incredibly straight, and Aligned….have you looked at the world? I mean all of it? Have you realised yet that we are the changers?

This means we are in a giant timeline of change, change that begins with you and will at some point herald the start of VISIBLE, I mean physically VISIBLE breakdown or breakthrough of the world as we know it.

In order for the harmony to restore in the garden of Eden, all must move back into harmony and we are by no means close to a trickle of change…..that all starts with you and barely anyone has come close to walking on their path of light, so the idea of things getting easier would only be ego choosing to find pockets to indulge and divert you from the internal work that must be done.

And in true planet/asteroid style Venus, Saturn and Pallas deliver the goods….from the Gods.

Whatever stream you are surfing we are going deeper. Most are simply realising the discord within and wondering why things always happen to them, some folk are realising the energetic patterns and wondering how to break the chains, some are taking the keys from keyholders and are busy and yet comfortably identifying programs and zero pointing as they go, some are realising they can’t feel and are learning how to reconnect themselves and then the cosmic surfers are diving through the sands of time and seeking the Divine Truth of All, to find the most deepest lock of all….and let me tell you, it’s quite a journey whichever stream you are taking, we have surfed them all and we know how once the human yearned for it to be EASIER.

All this highlights is the resistance and after the super lunar eclipse creating the cracks in the blind spots resistance is certainly going to present.

Before I continue I have a vision that keeps flashing in front and I just want to mention it, for whatever the purpose, it’s going in here.  Just before I woke this morning I was in dream, but then it flicked and I was sat on a hospital bed in a cancer treatment ward, with a lady I believe to be called Helen.

Well a nurse came in and my head turned and the name Helen was said, however was I Helen, was she Helen or was someone else in the room called Helen.

A lovely lady, I would say in her 50’s hair light brown, possibly highlights, very very chirpy, she was wearing glasses, and she’s a jeans and slippers kinda girl, the slippers were prominent as she crossed her legs in the dream.

I asked her what was wrong, she pointed to the tubes that were about to be hooked up and said it was leukemia.

I told her I was sending extra goodness, extra light through those tubes, that’s when my attention was turned and the nurse walked in and the name Helen was heard and I woke up.

I don’t normally share these things here, but as I’m writing about this energy the dream keeps flashing like a news flash so I’m putting it right here, it could be symbolic for someone, it could be symbolic for me, but it was definitely an energy jump into a field, because it was all too real and isn’t leaving yet.

Ok back to the energy…….

Let’s begin with Pallas, the daddies girl of the skies, the daughter of Zeus said to have been born from his head, which also means she had no Mother.

She took on her Father’s traits and became the warrior maiden, known for her courage, her strategy in war, she is the feminine super hero, known for her beauty and as strong and as fast as any man.  She uses her wisdom and diplomacy to steer away from conflict, her heart desires peace but woe betide those who resist the truth she holds because she will stand in her light and fight the fight…..and win…..if there were to be winners and losers…. harmony would be her feelings once peace restores as she dusts herself down and continues her path of fight the good fight.

Feeling the Pallas within yet?  Is she striking a chord of action?

She will….

Whilst Pallas squares Venus we know that there is discord within the areas we value, relationships and finances have been under the microscope for a while and the quakes are getting more frequent in those learning about Self through the mirror of their partners, however the ultimate relationship is with Self and to truly understand the coordinates you find yourself in today it’s essential to realise the patterning, and to not only look within at the relationship you have with Self, are you seeking out there? But to take a good look at the programming picked up along that masculine line, where are the cracks, where is the lack, where was the absent father, where is the absent father within you….and how has this formed you into the person you are today.

The recent templates of unity, balanced masculine and feminine were tuned in and up, set and restarted by myself and Linda, FOR OUR SPECTRUM (please remember we guide our own bandwidths, in which those in our webs experience the power of being in the light grids we hold, codes have been transmitted into the water and we are asking for Truth to be revealed…..and it is….

Which means that which is not in unison in the physical realities will be presenting for the changers to keep the changes changing.

No rest for the light filled…..

And whilst Venus Squares Pallas, well let’s throw in an opposition to Saturn for good measure, firstly giving us the keys that this is karmic for those still working their way off the wheel, that is is deep, that it is sent from the Father Cronus (and we all know what he did to the kids) that this frequency requests we look at that core programming, our foundations, our beliefs are lit up so we can see the repair work required.

Are you feeling you need that SOULitude?

Well this energy will lead you in to some amazing discoveries the moment you release the resistance to your opening Eye.

Full responsibility for all presentations occuring, seeking the symbols and the patterns to retrace your steps back out of the programming.

When faced with opposition we surf by bringing forward the diplomacy of Pallas, holding the truth and yet, perhaps, now is not the time to have those emotional conversations out there, perhaps now is the time to observe and focus on the practicality of things, this energy will support the physical movement and clearing, it will support firm decisions and plans, it will create hell in the space of indecision and bring instant relief to those willing to take the next courageous step.

We have entered Phase 2, next stop 88 portal and this energy will see many falling away…..again, the moon will be making connections with Mars, Vesta and Juno

Fast pace into 2020, we have much MORE work before we begin to see the reflection of the breakdown/through on our physical world stage but every step you take, every decision made that is a conscious movement, speeds up the Quickening we are all experiencing.

*****

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Dungeons In Dragons - Season 2, Session 22: “Heads or Tails”

Ichthyarbourus implores the party to help him breach Van Osternburg Furs & Fineries Headquarters, in order to confront his half-sisters Alicia Van Osternburg... and Juno Cytheria, who now controls the mansion's defenses. As our heroes decide on a plan to break in, they must also decide where their allegiances lie.

Nymeria and If lead Fel out of the alleyway, unsure of how to break the news to Ignis. It goes as well as they expect: Ignis lifts Fel by the cuff and threatens him before a crowd, soon confronted directly by a silver Dragonborn man. If allays the stranger's concerns and manages to talk Ignis down to avoid more attention. The human monk angrily relents, expecting a good explanation for this circumstance. Locating Evelyn, Vera, and Mikael by WhisperRing, the party convenes inside a room at The Quest Stop Inn.

Fel, with Mikael at his side, shares his story since he left the party: he and Mikael traveled north together to Pinnacle, where he briefly met his half-brother Syldor at Margaret's Boar-Ding House. Despite seeing a subject of his rage, Fel did not reveal his identity or confront the boy about his birth. The pair traveled then to Corona, where Mikael hoped to find clues to his mother while Fel sought Jameson Van Osternburg. He and Jameson spoke at length about their mothers and father, leaving Fel confused to his purpose. When word of the Avarente murders reached Corona, Fel left immediately for Cerwind to confront Alicia Van Osternburg, though he doesn't truly know why he feels compelled to do so. The party argues whether they can trust Fel's intentions, despite Mikael's defense of the sorcerer's character.

A plan is formed in the aftermath of this talk: half of the party will attempt to lure Juno from the mansion by claiming to have captured Fel, while the other half will sneak inside the building to find Alicia. Venturing forth to find an abandoned building for their plan, If finds the perfect mark just across from the mansion... which is quickly discovered to be a Wristblades safehouse. Inside they are confronted by Dirge, an Aasimir Wristblade also seeking to enter the Van Osternburg estate to fulfill a contract on a special fur coat. He offers to join forces after learning of If's affiliation to his order, to which the group tentatively agrees. He also approaches Nymeria about her interest in joining, to which Vera sternly advises against.

After boarding up the safehouse, Vera, Evelyn, Nymeria, and Gwenael stay behind to distract the guards while Dirge, If, Ignis, Fel, and Mikael enter the mansion via zipline. Ignis leads a group stretching session to prepare for the zipline, and Nymeria hides herself in plain sight, wooden armor against wooden walls. Vera sends a divine message to Juno directly, causing ten guards to be pulled from the compound's defenses.

As the metal footfalls get closer, Vera and Evelyn prepare their story, lying about their available spell slots. The guards breach the abandoned building, and four of them are directed upstairs by Vera. Despite a show of their intense training, Nymeria surprises the remaining six guards on the first floor by entangling them with heavy vines; Evelyn easily knocking them unconscious afterwards. One of the upstairs guards finds the hidden passage to the safehouse, and Vera attempts to stop him with Hold Person. The spell fails, and the guard reveals himself to be another follower of Avandra, betrayed at the attempt. One failed grasping vine attempt and Evelyn's relent swiftly ends the impending conflict; the group is captured and led inside the mansion to await judgement as criminals.

Meanwhile, the reduction in security allows the five infiltrators to sneak into the third floor maidservant quarters with little issue. Dirge ducks into the main Display Room, and the party follows a few minutes later to confront the two guards within. Mikael successfully holds one in place with magic, and the other is dispatched with a blow to the head by Dirge. Exploring the room, the group finds rare and expensive furs laid out in glass cases. If takes a strip of dragon hide, Ignis investigates a strange tail mounted above the fireplace, and Dirge obtains the coat for his contract. The Aasimir departs with a kind farewell, and the party eventually discovers a secret passage in the gruesome preparation room, leading to the fortified master bedroom.

Upon the floor of the opulent master bedroom is a large arcane sigil, drawn in white paint or chalk with spell components scattered about. Ignis and Mikael defile the sigil while it lies inert, rendering it impossible to activate later on, and noting it as some kind of protection spell. In the far corner of the bedroom, staircase downward is locked behind a reinforced glass door. If is shocked that the pins of this door are made of glass, but with skill and determination they overcome the challenge and deftly open the passage. If unlocks the second glass door at the bottom of the staircase, but holds steady as they are informed of Vera, Evelyn, and Nymeria's capture via WhisperRing.

The guards forces Evelyn, Vera, and Nymeria to relinquish their weapons and holy symbols, along with Gwenael. Vera manages to smuggle a spare symbol and Nymeria swipes her staff, but Evelyn is left entirely unarmed. They are then led into the main office where Alicia Van Osternburg and Juno Cytheria sit unharmed. Juno greets the party coldly, not-so-surprised that their sympathies to Fel would lead to them aiding him. She explains her defensive contingencies in full, expecting attack from either the front office door or the side glass door, both paths leading directly to her. Nymeria openly addresses Juno's relation to Alica Van Osternburg, but the claim is dismissed without any physical proof to back it up. Considered accomplices of Fel for their betrayal, the three captives turn to be escorted out, just as Fel opens the side door and strides hesitatnly towards Juno and Alicia... 

@percival-de-rolo as Vera Stoutwillow, Halfling Cleric and Wayfinder of Avandra

@kremdelakreme as If Liakiir, Rougish Elven beauty and Palm of the Wristblades

@softbutchhiccup as Ignis Wildfire, Human Monk Disciple from the Bronzeheart Monestary of Draconia

@dantealicheery as Evelyn Martell, Human Paladin and Sister Enlightened of Ioun

@arointhestreets-aceinthesheets as Nymeria, Half-Elven Druid and former Spriggan of the Sky Elves

@inpaperclad as The Dungeon Master

Special Thanks as always:

@lionsquartz‘s Mikael Roemont, Human Warlock and Knightmage of the Battlemagus

Max’s Ichthyarbourus Fel, Half-Elven Wild Magic Sorcerer from Eispanta

@frillylittlecakes as an inspiration and awesome D&D friend

And to Viewers Like You

[popofventi]

Ear Buds :: 10 Songs We Love This Week :: 3.10.17

// EAR BUDS // 10 FAVORITE SONGS WEEK OF 3.10.17 //

featuring :: Colony House, Portugal. The Man, Amelia Curran, Alex the Astronaut, Alt J, Gizmo Varillas, Baula, Hurray for the Riff Raff, Muna & Soffia Bjorg.

HERE ARE THE 10 SONGS IN HEAVIEST ROTATION THIS WEEK AT VENTIPOP:

1

Colony House :: "This Beautiful Life" :: @ColonyHouse :: New Album Only The Lonely out now

Just when we think Tennessee pop rock outfit Colony House couldn’t possibly get more prolific, they prove us wrong—but honestly, we expect no less from our beloved Colony House boys. With their latest album, Only The Lonely, they’ve set the bar even higher for themselves, and for every band in their orbit... (Source East of 8th)

2

Portugal. The Man :: "Feel It Still" :: @portugaltheman

Portugal. The Man is an American rock band from Wasilla, Alaska. The group consists of John Gourley, Zach Carothers, and Kyle O'Quin. Gourley and Carothers met and began playing music together in Wasilla High School.

3

Amelia Curran :: "Act of Human Kindness" :: @Amelia_Curran :: New Album Watershed Out Now

Amelia Curran is a Juno-Award winning songwriter, activist and mental health advocate from St. John’s, Newfoundland. Curran’s music is distinguished by her intricate and elliptical lyrics, geologic in their resilience and oceanic in their depths. Over the course of a decade, Curran has built a shoreline of song, a place of radical, perpetual collision of matter and form. Even as she leads us to the ever-eroding lip of the abyss, Curran’s music helps us make sense of the heart’s imperceptible, relentless attrition. (Source: Official Website)

4

Alex The Astronaut :: "Already Home" :: @AtheAstronaut

They make Alex Lynn play soccer in the snow. “Outside on the astroturf,” she says. “When you run around, your tears and sweat freeze.”

The 21-year old from Sydney plays soccer in New York, on a scholarship at Long Island University. It’s there she studies Maths and Physics. It’s also there she’s been turning a streak of bold new life experiences into songs under the name, Alex the Astronaut.

Lynn writes folk-influenced pop tunes, slyly tailored to sound incidental. Anchored by wide-eyed, train-of-thought narratives laced with wry personal insights, Alex the Astronaut scans as both naive and worldly; off-the-cuff and honed. “And there’s billionaires for presidents / And parking fines at hospitals,” she sings on elegant opener, ‘Already Home’, as it unfurls from loping acoustic jam to grandiose string-laden groove. “I’m not the only one that knows / I brush the crumbs on off my clothes. And I hope, you’ll be already home.”

“I don’t know if it’s confidence,” says Lynn of her worldly achievements. “My parents say I have an obsessive personality, that I find things I want to do and just keep on trying to do them. I’ll learn the harmonica or piano or Spanish or something random and they’ll be like, ‘Yep, OK. Here she goes again.’” (Source: Official Website)

5

Alt J :: "3WW" :: @alt_J :: New Album Relaxer out 6.2.17

Alternative indie rock trio Alt-J is back with new music after a three-year hiatus. The group’s latest single “3WW” launched to the top of the Billboard + Twitter Trending 140 chart Monday (March 6), hours after its release.

The Billboard + Twitter Trending 140 chart measures the real-time acceleration of conversation around artists and their music on Twitter.

The British group released the song on YouTube and other streaming services around 12 a.m. ET Monday morning and the track reached the top of the chart around 9 a.m. The official audio on YouTube has raked in 60,000 global views since its posting. (source: Billboard)

EAR BUDS ARCHIVE

6

Gizmo Varillas :: "No War" :: @GizmoVarillas :: Debut album el dorado out now

Born in Santander, Gizmo grew up in Bilbao and arrived in London by way of Cardiff, studying as an aspiring documentary maker. A lost summer busking for food and accommodation across southern France however lead him down a different path; one year later, Gizmo began receiving seals of approval from seasoned artists like La Yegros and Gavin James, who he went on to support on tours across the UK and Europe. (Source: Official Website)

“Working from his bedroom, the songwriter has pieced together a series of sunshine hymns, bizarrely contagious and wholly unique nuggets of summertime joy.” CLASH

“Hugely talented” Tom Robinson, BBC 6 Music

7

Baula :: "Just Like Yesterday" :: Facebook

A Swedish/Icelandic duo based in Gothenburg, Sweden, made up of Karolina Thunberg and Ísak Ásgeirsson, Baula’s Scandinavian charm flourishes on Just Like Yesterday.

Following their previous release Don’t Bother, back in May of 2016, Just Like Yesterday sees the duo taking up a change of style as the piano lead work on Don’t Bother isn’t apparent on their latest offering. Utilising a more traditional indie rock sound, that’s DIY-esque, the combination of a riding bass tone that gives way to a leading crunchy guitar hook, which guides Just Like Yesterday along the path of groups such as Blood Red Shoes, Warpaint and Pins. (Source: Velvet)

8

Hurray For The Riff Raff :: "The Navigator" :: @HFTRR :: New Album The Navigator out 3.10.17

Hurray for the Riff Raff is an American folk-blues and Americana band from New Orleans, Louisiana. Alynda Segarra was raised by her aunt Nereida in the Bronx where she developed an early appreciation for doo-wop and Motown. Read all about Hurray For The Riff Raff's new concept album over at The New York Times.

9

Muna :: "Everything" :: @whereisMUNA :: New Album About u out now

I could be mistaken, but I believe Muna is the first artist we've featured on Ventipop for a third time. Needless to say, we really want you to give them a chance.

10

Soffia Bjorg :: "Searching For You" :: @SoffiaBjorg :: New EP Soffia Bjorg, Pt. 2 out now

Icelandic songstress Soffía Björg hails from rural Borgarfjörður, a fjord just up north from the Reykjavik capital. The music of Soffía Björg is a satisfying combo of lulling ethereal beauty occasionally ravaged by roaring, aggressive emotionality.

The results are lived-in and dramatic, as the music draws from americana, folk and her undeniable roots described in the opening paragraph. Soffía’s deeply resounding voice enhances the proceedings, as it clearly stems from an old, wise soul – completely transcending her age. Like a raw Norah Jones, Soffia Björg envelopes the listener with a warm embrace but at the same time there’s trouble lurking just out of sight. (Source: Secret Solstice)

SUPPORT US SO WE CAN CONTINUE SUPPORTING LESSER KNOWN MUSICIANS

3.10.17 MUSIC RELEASES

THE SHINS, SUNNY SWEENEY, HA HA TONKA, BUSH, CIRCA WAVES, AMELIA CURRAN, NATHAN FAKE, HURRAY FOR THE RIFF RAFF, Cameron Avery, GREG GRAFFIN, MALLORY KNOX, David Bazan, Jay Som, Porter Ray, Shelby earl, sir Was, Talaboman, Thelma, LAURA MARLING & TENNIS

EAR BUDS :: 10 SONGS WE LOVE THIS WEEK :: 3.10.17~ FIN.

-xxx-

[hereticaloracles]

Full Moon in Scorpio- Wormwood

“There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India. It says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.” – Libba Bray

Effective Date:  5/10/2017

Helios’ Astrological Angle on the Full Moon in Scorpio5- Well, this Lunation is about to be one bitter pill to swallow. Yes, you have already had to deal with much, giving up on what you thought was important, and choosing the hills that you want to die on, but unfortunately it is not over for you. No, all that you have done so far is preamble. Look, you have to realize that not all things are possible, all at the same time. Yes, you can have it all, but you have to take the proper steps to get there, and sometimes that means taking a backstep. Remember, quite a bit of these skies are still Retrograde, way more than we are used to. That makes forward motion difficult, if not impossible. With all the planets Retrograde (Jupiter, Saturn and Pluto) and those who are still in Shadow from recent Retrogrades (Mercury, Venus, Vesta) we are having to refocus and reasses every foundation that we have built our lives on thus far. This may seem like a disaster to us, but we have to look ahead to see what is coming: Saturn in Capricorn. Specifically, I have had my eye on a specific moment when we will have Saturn in Capricorn, conjoining Pluto and Jupiter (this also happens to be my Saturn Return. Gods help me.) in 2020, so that will be fun.With his shadow looming large over us, everything starts to make more sense. These days, hell this whole retrograde-dominated year, is one big stress test for your life and what you have built for yourself. These moments can feel poisonous to you, and you will have to make drastic decisions if you want to get through it intact.

Artemis’ Tarot Take on the Full Moon in Scorpio- This is the last of it, Heretics. The North Node in Virgo, that is, and with it we are getting some cutting experiences.  This is the culmination of you finding out just how much of a doormat you really are before the NN moves into Leo, the sign of Ego and Self Worth. But Virgo wants you to give you one last work review, and it’s going to be a particularly scarring one which will move you on to your next challenge – the North Node moving into Leo – aka finding your pride in how you re-confront your mistakes. Do you see failures as opportunities for transformation or do you see them as a wall that you cannot push through, boxing you in and suffocating you – forcing you to pace in circles for all of eternity? Usually when these situations hit us, when we are stuck in a room with a door that does not open whether we push or pull, it is time to start digging instead…

The Sun, Moon and Pluto– This one is going to cut you deep, y’all. The terrifying thing about the Moon mixing with Pluto is that the Moon shows Pluto your vulnerable spots, the soft belly that your spiny ridges and defenses protect. Of course, that means that Pluto will be attacking you on your Sun, aka through your ego. This is actually the least attractive tactic to Pluto, who prefers the stealth assault, and only uses this in two situations: Where he is completely confident in his power and willing to come out into the light; Or when he is desperate and no other recourse is available to him. Either way, in choosing the frontal attack, Pluto becomes vulnerable, as his main power comes from the shadows he hides in, in whispers and secrets. When he comes into the light he is exposed as less than what he pretends to be. So it will be for us during this moon. What terrifies us will be shown to be nothing more than the fears of a child, irrational and blown out of proportion.

We all have these fears lurking in our subconscious- about our self-worth and if we are good enough to get what we want, that sort of thing- But this Lunation will amplify that to the nth degree. The ones to look out for are the fears regarding love and our relationships, of our connection to spirit, and of failure leading us to play it far too safe in our dealings. You must not allow yourself to get sucked into the drama and power plays of others. Stay in your lane, and focus on what you are building. Never forget who you are, no matter what you have to do to rebuild.

(Minor Planets used: Juno, Ceto, Bienor, Magdalena, Minerva, Phaethon, Amor, Cyllarus, Klotho)

The Sun(Ace of Wands), Moon(The Tower), and Pluto (5 of Cups)- There is a dark serpent energy here, slithering its way into every crevice of your life and offering you another bit of the fruit that opens your eyes. Are you too scared to actually face what your world is really like?  This moon is a visionary moon and wants to show you the truth; no matter how grotesquely it may manifest for we’ve all been lying to ourselves in one way or another and creating monsters because of this. Scorpio hates a liar – even a liar with good intentions – so truths she has to tell will always leave a shiver up your spine. The passion during this moon is extraordinarily intense and also extraordinarily sexual. This is all because this moon has been touched by Pluto (and we all know what happens when you are touched by Pluto, you get pulled into the fucking underworld – gnashing teeth and bodies of hell). Your sense for danger will be heightened and your aggression toward being dominated will become deadly under these stars. And pay close attention, Heretics, because people’s corruption will rise to the surface like swamp scum.

When animals sense danger, their sexual urges also increase. It’s a strange “mate before you can’t pass on your legacy” sort of feeling, and we are all experiencing the pressure in society.  The depravity is far more evident than it ever was – no matter how dressed up we try to make the world and our lives. At this point it’s like putting lipstick on a corpse; we still see how dead the world is becoming day by day and we notice this death creeping into our own lives as well. We sit at work, wondering why the fuck we are really there and what the purpose of it all is – no matter how seemingly fulfilling your job may be, it is still feeding a dark system (Why does your yoga studio need a rich girl merchandise section if yoga is a spiritual art? Where is the money in your non-profit really going?) We are feeding our souls into a soulless machine that loves to lie to us and give us the illusion of purpose, and the burden of this daily activity is making our subconscious scream in terror – wanting to take a hammer to all the things around us. This moon is Kali energy – here to swallow whole false towers.  And what happens when dismantling begins? Deceit gets far more intense. Enemies find a new wrath during this full moon, and an “evil” sort of energy prevails similar to what we had during the new moon in Scorpio back on Hallow’s Eve 2016.  Your “demons” are coming back to play in hoards, and I suggest you do not ignore them and continue making them more grotesque due to your self delusion. You may call what you see “evil” but it is really just all of the massive amounts of repression being let out – oozing through our pours and permeating our dreams. This is a healing moon, but healing in a sort of violent way where you must sear the wound with fire in order to close it. Healing through “sex magick” is a must with this Pluto sextile, and a warning to keep your eyes open is also a must. It seems the universe wants to reveal some dangerous truths to us, and they may manifest in very violent and “sinful” ways.

Mercury, Saturn and Uranus– Harsh lessons are coming. These planets are cold in their expression, and very mental. Along with all the transneptunians involved here, that leads us to seeing some very stark realities. We are going to have to face our reality as it is, like running into a brick wall. There is no more burying your head in the sand with these guys, we all have to wake up and get to work. No matter how tired we are, how hurt, disillusioned, numb, forgotten or judged we feel; we cannot quit now. We must push on, and play the game. Hang on to what drives you, the dream of the future you seek to build, and there is no way that you can lose. Still, sometimes you have to bluff on a bad hand….

(Minor Planets used: Chiron, Eris, Sedna, Ixion, Varuna, Rhadamanthus, Damocles, Icarus, Rhiphonos)

Mercury (Hangman), Saturn (Ace of Pentacles), Uranus (High Priestess)- You ever have a really bad trip?  You know, you take a bunch of psychedelics and you realize just how artificial everything is. You get the creeps when you look at advertisements, you want to shatter your tv, and you want to go lie outside in the grass and feel something real? It’s this weird understanding that we have built false laws into our lives – a sort of self imposed hell where we believe in weird things like light always prevailing and that somehow none of us have primal urges toward aggression. Why do you think we have the reptilian part of our brain that we do? There is a reminder here that we live in two worlds. One is the world which we have created that is based on abstract concepts like, “freedom,” and “justice,” and “morality,” etc, and the other world is the Scorpionic world – the one based off of the true order of things that rests just below the surface and wrecks our false dreams at every turn. And in the true order of things, death and violence and transformation is a daily occurring thing. Most humans live their lives trying to manifest themselves into the perfect marketed image of a human, when humanity is far more gritty and elusive and intense than we could ever believe.

There is wisdom in the chaos – wisdom in the violence of nature that we must take to heart and swallow like a pill. Do not ignore the fact that you can only gain false purpose if you follow an abstract path. There is reality, and there is human simulated reality that we have roped together as a collective. Do not let the latter weigh you down and make you feel any less than. Stick to your intuition during this lunation, and don’t fall for false prophets who promise you the gold of heaven or some sort of abstract method of breaking down human behavior. There is a wisdom you seek deep in mother earth – deep in reality and it’s true constructs that can only be intuited, not abstractly manifested by the mind.

Venus– Our girl is all alone, still playing by herself in the Aries sandbox, and that is probably how you are feeling right now as well- Alone, isolated, and trying to distract yourself from it until you have someone to play with. Take this time as a gift, and focus on yourself. Sure, doing so seems like an agonizing torment when you realize how out of touch you are with yourself, but I’m sure that it’ll be fine. Do whatever you have to in order to recover. Retreat from everyone, go to ground, and get back on track. Put your head down, work hard, get in bangin shape and get your money right. Fall in love with yourself again, remember why you are amazing and why you chose this path in your life. You are being so cruel to yourself, punishing yourself for perceived mistakes and failures, most of which you had no way to see coming or stop. You did the best you could with what you had, and there is no shame in that. Rediscover the magic in your life, and come back to it, ASAP- it might just save your soul.

(Minor Planets used: Orcus, Eros, Psyche, Hylonome, Crantor, Circe, Achilles, Siva)

Venus (5 Swords)- So it’s time to wrap up your payment for Venus Retrograde, where you may have destroyed your values for momentary delights. Our girl is just about out of shadow (another 9 days after this full moon), but the Scorpio energy of this lunation is going to be a bit of an inquisition. There is a “struggling against fate” energy here, where we may be attempting to get back something that we lost during Venus’ Babylonian rage through our lives. But, again, the lesson during this lunation is that not everything can be intellectualized and you must look deep into yourself to see if the right choices were made. Even if something feels painful and crushing, the severance of that limb may be the very thing that saves your life and lets you continue growing. You made the decisions you made, now there is no going back. So move on with it; I promise you there are greener pastures ahead that you just can’t see through the cloud of your tears. I know it is difficult to realize people’s true intentions with you, but Venus retrograded to show us that not everyone’s love is a positive influence on our life. Love is a wonderful thing, but some love is shackles of our past karma and repression. Some “love” just smooths things over gets us off, like a cheap prostitute, instead of forcing us to reckon with ourselves and truly transform into what we are meant to be. Don’t stay with lovers, don’t feed lovers that do not feed your purpose.

Mars, Jupiter and Neptune– The biggest thing that I hear from you guys is that you are lost, or don’t know what to do with your life after all that has happened to you. That is okay. Honestly, that’s the only sane reaction to what a lot of you have faced. The thing is, do you really have to do anything? No, don’t just dismiss that out of hand- think about it. What if you just do nothing? At some point it all just becomes too much; You can only plug up the holes and cracks in the dam for so long before it floods the town. Sooner or later, you need to focus on evacuating that town so that the disaster can happen with minimal loss of life. If you ignore the root problem and only treat the symptoms, then you never see any real improvements. Sometimes, everything needs to be destroyed so that you can start fresh again. This is looking more and more like one of those times, both in the world and for yourself. If you realize it and embrace it, then it will be easier than if you reject it until you are steamrolled by it.

Sometimes you have to lose, and its hard. Other times, you have to surrender and it’s even harder. The price of progress in those situations is your ego. When the only option you have is giving up, that is a heavy price to pay, but it means that you can live to fight another day, instead of fading away into insignificance with naught more than a whisper. Unfortunately, sometimes it is the only way. What I am proposing is not at all giving yourself over to the firing squad, no- what I am suggesting is that instead of going down with the ship as a romantic or heroic sacrifice, you get on a damn lifeboat. There is more to you that you have yet to do, and calling the curtain early is not in the cards for you. I’m sorry, because it feels like agony to see the stroy through to the end, but this must be done- there is no escape from your fate. Hold your head up high, and walk into the arena with your dignity, like a true hero.

(Minor Planets used: Pallas Athene, Asbolus, Okyrhoe, Teharonhiawako, Praamzius, Terpshichore, Lachesis, Orpheus, Narcissus, Chariklo, Hygeia, Persephone, Bacchus, Asclepius, Urania, Kassandra)

Mars (Temperance), Jupiter (10 of Wands), Neptune (5 of Wands)-  Alejandro Jodorowsky once said, “Birds born in a cage think that flying is an illness.” Although I agree with Alejandro to an extent, I also believe that said birds have an instinct to fly that itches and prods at them to no extent yet their circumstances make it impossible to ever realize what that itching and prodding is actually for. Maddening, isn’t it? I find humans to be the exact same way. We play these abstract games with each other, not realizing that they are mere shadows of how reality truly manifests. Our joy is taxed right now, and we see no end in sight with all the burdens we have piled upon ourselves. But wait! The key is to continue churning out rawness no matter how tired you may feel by these burdens and the heaviness of cultural dogma. Keep sending out the signals so that other humans know they are not alone in feeling this maddening separation from our true nature. You do not have to be anything the powers that be are telling you to be, and they continue to dump more and more on you so that you suffocate under the structures instead of smash them – showing everyone else that you don’t have to live any particular way. It is time to use the master’s weapons against him, so figure out how to use the system to your advantage and temper a transformation as if this reality is some sort of training regime – a cocoon if you will. In short, don’t give up on your dream just because the world is shitting on it. When the ancient Greeks died, the primary question anyone asked was, “Did they have passion?” And if so, their life was worth something incalculable. “Success” in this world may be the death of your soul. So although right now you may have to resign to the system in order to feed your family and keep yourself out of the prison industrial complex, do not stop plotting your escape. If you do, your repression of your instinct to fly will continue to manifest as demons in your head and you will have to eternally confront them and explain why you would rather live in a lie.

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Full Moon in Scorpio- Wormwood was originally published on Heretical Oracles

[johnvstheworld]

2000s indie artists I’d like to see try writing books

I’ve been enjoying John Darnielle’s new novel, Universal Harvester, this week. And when I say “enjoying” I mean fighting squeamish and anxious feelings, taking breaks, questioning my place in life, and examining some of my relationships. Enjoying. I’ll give my full thoughts about the book next week, but the success of Darnielle’s first novel, Wolf in the White Van, along with this excellent follow up got me thinking about who else might give writing novels a try.

Darnielle’s primary gig has been leading his group The Mountain Goats, though that might start shifting if his literary career continues along the trajectory he’s set. From lo-fi roots of Darnielle singing into a boombox to classic indie album “All Hail West Texas” to the celebrated “The Sunset Tree” and beyond, it is safe to say that The Mountain Goats and Darnielle was an indie staple and tent pole through the beginning of the new century and remains so today.

So who else from the 2000s indie scene would make a good novelist? Who would I like to see give it a try? Here is my top 5 and I know there are some notable exceptions (I’ll defend the list if I have to!). Also, I realize there are no women on the list. At first I thought this said something about me, but I went back through the popular (and not so popular) indie musicians of the time, and well, there really aren’t that many women. If anyone has any recommendations, or suggestions for the list, please let me know.

5. Kevin Devine

Kevin Devine is a story teller. Indulging the singer-songwriter trope early in his career, Devine writes songs that speak to the loner in everyone. They describe the isolation and those uneasy attempts at connection – real connection – that defines our modern lives. Whether it is on a dark stretch of road, a late night/early morning on a city block, on a busy train, or in a tiny empty apartment, Devine paints pictures that captured the dreams, problems, and minutia of directionless twenty-somethings, and thirty-somethings unsure of the path they’ve found themselves on. Some albums can be more political, some more airy and some ominous. Either way, I’d like to follow some of his characters through more than the three+ minutes he gives us.

4. Forrest Kline (Hellogoodbye)

Hellogoodbye is in the running for quirkiest band of all-time. And it is a very specific kind of quirk. They definitely are of a specific time and place. Their most successful era is more akin to Napoleon Dynamite than, say, Juno. This is pre Michael Cera times. Heavily drenched in west coast. So why would I be interested in seeing the kinds of stories someone like Forrest would put down on paper? Despite the quirkiness of it all, the charm was always genuine and carried through to later, more mature efforts. The details of the high school (seemingly chaste) trysts are of a certain and brief moment, but the essence of them is timeless and I’d love to see that revisited. Much like how a John Hughes story is dressed up under layers of 80s mannerisms, references, and affectations, the core is still true today, and always was. A John Hughes story for 03-06 graduates? That’s something I’m interested in.

3. Phil Elverum (The Microphones/Mt. Eerie)

Phil Elverum may not have the cult status of Jeff Mangum, but his is the voice I hear when I think about lo-fi in the late 90s/early 2000s. The stories he tells don’t always have words, the characters rarely have names, the speaker not revealing many personal details but still willing to describe their inner lives. It is the atmosphere of wonder and mystery, the feeling that we are floating through a strange land while also having one foot planted firmly in the realm of reality, which is appealing. The best way I can think to describe the feeling some of his work gives is it almost like watching the darkest episode of Adventure Time on VHS, on a black and white screen, with real actors – faceless actors – playing the parts. I can’t think of any other way to really describe it, but I’d love to read about it and visit this place.

2. Tim Kasher (Cursive, The Good Life)

Tim Kasher is known most prominently as the head of Omaha post-rock band Cursive. He’s tackled subjects as diverse as infidelity, religion, infidelity, art, incompatibility, etc. “Domestica” tells, in both lyrics and sound, the story of divorce. “The Ugly Organ” is a masterpiece contemplation on art using wonderful metaphors, allusions, interludes, and again, sound. “Happy Hollow” tells the story of a small town full of characters like predatory preachers and high school sweethearts torn apart by wars halfway around the world. While most of the vignettes on these albums round out their intended themes nicely, the most compelling storytelling work Kasher has done is with his more stripped down group, The Good Life. Here Kasher takes on many of the same themes but has time to let them breathe and develop. Late nights. Six packs. Secret rendezvous. Old videos. Funny stories that aren’t so funny anymore. Men being men, in the traditional, clichéd, and basest sense. They are enlightened enough to be aware of their flaws and expectations, but not strong enough or willing enough to do anything about it. He namechecks John Fante and Charles Bukowski in a few songs, calling them “hopeless Romanatics,” but I’ve always seen Kasher closer to someone like Updike, just working 50 years later. Either way, I don’t see too many authors working like that lately, and it might be welcomed. Then again, maybe not.

1. John K Samson (The Wakerthans)

Every song by The Weakerthans is already a short story. Why not start putting them on paper? People have been wondering if John K Samson would start writing for over a decade, and even though he just released a solo album, the hiatus for The Weakerthans should provide enough time for him to indulge us, the waiting public. One of the most successful indie bands of the 2000s, The Weakerthans have done what so many TV shows, movies, and novels have rarely been successful at, especially lately (do they really even try anymore?): they describe and comment on the life and struggles of the middle class; the lower middle class; the sometimes educated lower middle class. The apartments are dirty, vary in size and location, and are full of meaning. The cats are our friends. The diplomas are useless. The city is sprawling while opportunity is shrinking. The bus is late. The beer is cheap. The car broke down. The cat said, “fuck it I tried you’re on your own.” The Christmas gifts are shoplifted. The club is closing down. But it’s not all sad though. Many times it is the opposite. Samson finds the hope in these situations, no matter how small, and focuses the listener there. Look! Take this and hide it somewhere! We need that sometimes. We need that always.