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lorei-writes · 4 years

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Radio Call

Nobunaga x MC Angst

Written for: Dice be Nice Event Request: @mineko811 Roll: Nobunaga + Post-Apocalypse AU + “Of course. I know you, after all.”

Well, the dice wasn’t too nice this time around, it appears. I think that there’s only one other combination that gave me an idea for angst, haha ^^”

Content Warnings: implied major character death, death, minor character death, corpses, the apocalypse, deadly illness

It was not quite like anything they pictured it to be. There were no bombs, no metal shells, no ashes and rampant military threats, no eclipse – and of all things unexpected, sun rose just as it did on any other day. The beginning of it was not defined, shifting and presenting itself as any hardship to overcome, humans growing stronger together to push through it with mutual support. The beginning was loud, full of inspirational chatter and wishful remarks. And the end? The end was silent, all sounds having already died.

His heels digging into the ground, Nobunaga pushed onto the door with his shoulder, wood refusing to move by as much as an inch. A grunt leaving his lips, he took a couple steps back, fully intending to charge and break through the obstacle with brute force... “It’s no use.” Her voice cut. His fists clenched, Nobunaga turned around to face her, sunken eyes staring at him blankly. Combing her hair back with her hand, Mai sighed, defeat having seemingly settled within her form as she held back a cough. “You’ll only hurt yourself. We should look for a house to spend the night in.” “Judging by the medical tents around, they could have stored the medicine he –” “Power has been out for ages. Even if there was any left, it deteriorated.” Mai stepped forward, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t infect anymore. We should focus on heading south to rejoin with the group who sent that radio call. That’s our only chance,” she added in a low voice, turning her gaze away.

The end was silent – and yet, it wasn’t universal. Not at first.

A stone shattered the window pane, dull thud signalling the end of its fall. Careful as not to get hurt by the shards, Mai looked back at Nobunaga one last time and pushed herself up to enter the house. “Is anybody in here?!” she shouted, already knowing the reply. Her lips pressed into a thin line, she moved deeper inside, floorboards creaking with each of her steps. The corridor stretched long before her, filled with stench she had far too many chances to familiarise herself with. Hair standing on the back of her neck, she pushed the inevitable away in time, her feet directing her towards the kitchen, pictures of the residents of the house staring at her from the walls.

A discarded pot sitting on top of the burner, the contents of it having already rotten away; a puddle of black slime-like substance pooling around the fridge in a protective manner; an empty cat bowl still waiting around to be filled – and a few dozen other little things, all too common for her to notice them anymore. Numb, Mai reached to open the cabinets, stories upon stories of plates staring at her from above. Was there any use for such a number of them in this world? She left them behind, closing the doors as to open new ones – her face lit up. Something beat behind her ribs, her hands trembling upon finding a sort of treasure chest: hard sugar candy. With near-religious piety, trembling fingers unwrapped one silver wrapper, soon pushing the contents into her mouth. Mai gasped, pushing the rest of them into her backpack.

The scouting was successful, the ground floor having gifted her a single new needle, few bundles of thread, sterile gauze, disinfectant, batteries and enough canned food to fill their stomachs for the night. Unwilling, she turned her eyes towards the staircase. The smell was obvious, although she still had to check… Partially for herself, partially for the corpses she was sure to find lying in beds.

The end wasn’t universal. The rich bought medicine and hid themselves – and they were safe, safe for the longest time while the rest… The rest succumbed to the illness and met their end. The rich were safe! The rich were safe until the illness changed. And then… Then the medicine did not work anymore – and this was something their walls could not defend them against.

Spoons clattered against the inside of the cans, fire burning in the fireplace for the first time in months, flames consuming the chair legs. A silver wrapper glimmered in the dim light, discarded over the floor. His back resting against the wall, Nobunaga stared at the ceiling, her head lying in his lap. “How many, fireball?” he asked, stroking her hair tenderly. “Four. Rather fresh too, at least compared to the previous town. They might have heard the same radio call and were preparing to set off… I can’t understand why else they wouldn’t eat the candy.” Nobunaga hummed in agreement.

“I think we should ration it, though,” Mai yawned after a moment. “I thought it was already agreed on. You didn’t trust me enough not to mention this?” he joked, rough thumb brushing against her cheek. “Of course. I know you, after all,” she laughed, her eyelids growing heavy. “I think you should sleep. I’ll join you soon enough.” Mai did not reply.

The end was silent, save for a few voices calling from a different world.

Nobunaga put the batteries inside of the radio. One hand covering her ear, he reached into the pocket on the inside of his coat, his nails grazing against a tape. Deftly, he pushed it inside the compartment, one he never spoke much about – it would be a shame to reveal a secret of this kind, much more so after his friends put so much effort into…

Track 1. Mitsuhide’s voice called quietly from the machine. “Is anybody in there?” Loss of signal. “My group is heading south. We are planning to organise at the second passing point. Is anybody still alive?”

Track 2. Masamune joined. “We need water, but we can go on with what we have. We found the medicine.” “A new group jo –” Signal got lost, cutting Mitsuhide off.

Track 3.

“Ieyasu Tokugawa here. We are approaching the first passing point.”

Track 4. Mitsunari.

“An infected camp found between first and second passing point. We are moving our settlement to the very border. We are fine. Keep –” The recording cut off. White noise. With trembling fingers, Nobunaga pressed forward.

Track 6. Hideyoshi.

“I hope you never had to discover this tape, Mai. If you did… I hope you’re well.” Coughing. “Mitsunari did a great job with the radio… So I really hope…”

Track 7. White noise.

Track 8. White noise.

Track 9. White noise.

Track 10. Mitsuhide.

“I hope this tape made it to you safely, Nobunaga. We shall meet again when the last wave is over.”

Holding back a cough, Nobunaga switched the radio to receiving.

Silence.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me. If you don’t want to be tagged anymore - please, do not feel bad about it, just say so :)

#nobunaga oda #ikesen nobunaga #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my ff #my writing #dice be nice

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calypsoff · 3 years

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Ninety Three. Part 3

That talk with Mel is something I needed, I needed to speak to someone that knows Robyn as much as they do. Mel is relying on me to bring her back, I mean I feel I can do it but then again I feel like Robyn is very much adamant in telling me to fuck off, several times too. Mel said I need to be on her level, I can’t be trying to tell her she can’t do something when she is like this. I really wish Robyn told me this, told me how she is feeling so I could help her get through it. I think Robyn felt alone, like you can have a room full of people but still feel alone and I think she felt that because I was being an idiot. I wasn’t thinking straight, I never do but that video of Robyn. I need to look at it actually, I just had a shower and got some clothes on. I am praying and hoping she is where I think she will be, I am assuming she will be in the casino and if she is with other men, I need to not bite because she is going to do everything in her power to make me get annoyed. TMZ loaded up and the first thing I see is Robyn, they are are saying she attacked me, and I don’t like that because it was never that, my wife isn’t violent. Tapping on the article, this is very much defamation of name because that is not it. Tapping on the video and waited for it to load, I am not happy that this is happening. She doesn’t deserve this; she isn’t a bad person. Watching the video and seeing that she did hit my shoulder or whatever, but she was angry that I said her dad and it kind of works out, it’s bullshit. I don’t want to tell her that this was said. She doesn’t need it, but I need to stay by my wife, she means the world to me. I have let her down, I have always known she was vulnerable when it comes to men in general and her dad, it’s crazy how much it’s affected her.

Sitting atop of the pool table, I want to address the situation because it seems like in the article it states that she was with other men, looks like I was jealous of that and we argued, that didn’t happen. It’s crazy to see what they put but I want to shut down these rumours, it’s spreading thanks to that toxic ass page. Pressing record on my phone, fixing my Snapback “what’s up, I don’t like to get involved in these kind of scenarios or politics to do with things that go on, my life or whatever but I don’t. It’s come up on that wack ass blog TMZ a video of me and my wife, lies are being told. We were talking and she did hit my arm or whatever, but it was playful, she was a little tipsy whatever. But it’s all lies, we are good in our marriage. My daughter is just better, and we don’t need to see that kind of shit, or those rumours being said, we come to Vegas to have fun. Our marriage is fine, we are good. God bless that my daughter is good so yeah, I just want to address that we are fine and that my wife isn’t the vicious person y’all making her out to be, I was fully aware she was speaking to men so there was no issues or arguments about that” shaking my head “we good over here” stopping the recording and adding it onto Instagram, adding a caption ‘y’all need to leave me and mines, I don’t fuck with the shit y’all be saying’ pressing send on the post, I will protect my wife on god, I will fuck up anyone for her, that’s my girl. Now I need to find that wife of mine, I want to call her but then I don’t think she will pick up because of my name being shown, if I don’t find her I’m gonna be panicking. I am worried for her, she is drinking and smoking so much too, like smoking excessively. I need to do this, I need to control my mouth and be there for her, she needs me, and I wasn’t even seeing it.

I put on a shirt and made my way down to reception, I need to know where my wife is and they will know, obviously they will. They see everything and they knew she was here earlier, I huffed out making my way to the reception. The lady looked at me and she was going to say hi, but I just cut her off “my wife, Rihanna? Where is she?” I sound abrupt but I am not the mood for all the nice talk, I just need to see my wife and see how she is “I can show you” why is it everyone knows where she is, is my wife making that much of an issue, this is concerning to know actually “right this way sir” walking behind her, she seems so kind about it but I am wondering if Robyn is causing a scene “is everything ok?” I have to ask; I am nervous. Robyn is so sly and is running off constantly, she isn’t just nobody either “not at all, just she was getting harassed by a barrage of people and we had to bring in extra security but please, it’s not bother” oh god, I am nervous now. Walking into the casino I can see where she is, the group is gathered and it’s not a show. I just need to not kick off either, I get very protective of my wife too “that way sir” she gestured, nodding my head walking off towards the crowd. She is on the slots machine and is being stared at by people, I dislike that because she doesn’t need all eyes on her either. Looking around and seeing phones out “watch out!” I spat, people started to move to the side and then recording me “don’t push sir” I will knock this nigga out, he better let me through right now before I cause a scene in this place, I do not care for anyone “let him though, that’s Chris” another security guy came forward, he let an oh “sorry” he let me through, nodding my head walking by him. Robyn clapped her hands together “I won again” Robyn looked at me, she is wearing my snapback “I can see” moving the snapback back a little, kissing her forehead “I can see you are winning, as you do” pulling the snapback down, looking around us, there is so many cameras around us, they have literally blocked off the whole section because of Robyn, she really doesn’t care, she is staying here and having fun “what you doing” Robyn is searching my pockets, then she dug her hand in my pocket “these” she grabbed my cigarettes “ok” I mumbled, my phone started ringing in my pocket “you good yeah?” I asked, Robyn nodded her head smiling at me. Looking down at my phone, Robyn wrapped her arm around my torso “what’s up?” I asked, it’s Mel “she is in the casino, they are tagging her on Insta” Mel is spying from afar “yeah I am here with her now, thanks. I will update soon” I don’t know what to do, there is so many people here. So many prying eyes too.

Robyn is playing Crabs, I say play she is trying her best and the whole crowd is cheering but I am so protective of her, I am just thinking on what to do. She hasn’t said much to me at all “I done good?” Robyn asked, nodding my head “always” nuzzling the top of her head, licking my lips looking around. I just hate this, it’s so compact like everyone is just here and I feel judged. I feel our marriage is being judged; I hate this. I want this to just stop but I can’t make it stop, I need to take action. I am so protective of Robyn, I feel like she is vulnerable, and I didn’t see it at first but I do now, she is so vulnerable “Rihanna, you good at playing Crabs” someone shouted, I smiled looking over at the person “I am good at a lot” Robyn said, her voice is husky as hell, all that smoking is getting to her “what that mouth do?” my eyebrows knitted together, looking at whoever said that “ask my husband, I just sucked him off in the penthouse suite” I had to do a doubletake at Robyn, the whole crowd just busted out laughing “don’t be speaking on my mouth nigga, go ask ya father” Robyn added “don’t come for me nigga, don’t do it!” everyone cheered, Robyn is being called volatile and she is being recorded shouting this, I just feel stuck on what to do “shall we go to the suite?” I said in her ear “you can get me a blunt, make me one” she turned to me, taking in a deep breath and then sighed out.

Robyn turned away from the Crabs table with the blunt in hand and her cocktail “I want to go now” when she moved the whole crowd moved with her “where you going?” moving back from the Crabs table “let’s go to the club” licking my top lip “erm” I paused, I don’t even know what to say. Nodding my head and leaning down to Robyn hugging her “how about we go to the suite, you can do your hair and stuff. Look all cute for the club” pressing a kiss to her cheek moving back, Robyn nodded her head too “you right, ok let’s go then” following behind Robyn, we can finally go to the bedroom and just talk, I don’t know how to even bring the questions up about everything. I caught some arm that reached forward trying to grab Robyn’ shoulder “the hell” pushing it away, the security is rushing us out and I just moved to the side of Robyn. She is so calm about everything; she doesn’t even care that we are getting mobbed. She doesn’t even know what is being said about her, I am here trying to save her. I just want to protect my girl, she is going through a lot and I want her to be happy, I think I haven’t helped with her at all. I am so bad, I am a bad husband to her, but she needs me to be there for her, I can only love her.

We got to the bedroom and Robyn went straight to the room, she wants to get dressed for the club. The club I don’t really want to go too, I don’t even know where to start at all. Answering the call from Mel, she has been so supportive right now. She has been ringing to check “hey” I answered “just thought I would ask how you are? You seem very nervous about this; you seem a little scared. Robyn is just closed off Chris, don’t mind her. She will break that mask; I just know her” she is so confident “can you come?” I don’t know “no, you need to be the one to do it. She do what you need to do, anyways. I got Rylee actually, she is doing so well. I am so glad to see her in high spirits” I miss her so much “thanks for checking on me, I just feel so stuck. Robyn hasn’t really let go of Rihanna; I can tell. I will go upstairs and see to her, thanks” disconnecting the call, I appreciate Mel for this. I understand what she means by she wants me to do it but I just feel like she would do a better job, I do feel bad because I know that Robyn be there for me to build me up so can’t I do this for her, how useless am I to even think someone else should do this. I don’t mean it in a bad way but it’s hard, I don’t know how to approach the situation.

Walking into the room and all I can hear is Robyn’ phone going off, like it’s been none stop but all she is doing is getting ready. She is really ignoring everything “you good?” I asked what I asked before, I can’t help but say the same thing “are you? I was the one that left you in bed” she sniggered, knowing full well what she did but I won’t make it an issue “erm yeah I am” the phone started ringing again, making my way to the phone, looking down and seeing Jay Brown name. Rejecting the call, picking the phone off to turn it off “I am fine, it’s been a while you know” the phone switched off, placing it down “you remember that time when my dad took us to go and watch Space Jam?” Robyn looked up at me “I do, why?” she is miserable “it just made me laugh because erm, that time I wanted to sit with you, and you ended up letting my dad sit in the middle? Like what, but the bonus of it all is that my dad paid but then you were sick after the hot dog” Robyn groaned out “oh yeah, that was bad” she nodded her head and froze “and your dad was holding my hair back, yeah. He is so sweet to me” she agreed “yeah he was, I’ve always wanted to be like him. Like my dad, just a good man. But I don’t think I actually am, I think I am not the person he bought up, you know. You said I am just like your dad, and at first I was so caught up on it thinking it was a bad thing but me and your dad have something in common. We both hurt you and let you do, and I apologise for that. I do a lot without thinking and what I did and how I have been acting was bad, I will forever be sorry for that” putting my head down “men are trash” I expected that “I don’t blame you for that Robyn” looking up at her “you say we should talk; I enjoy our talks. At night” stuffing my hands in my pockets “talking to me about me, asking me how I am, asking me what I am doing, telling me what I need to do. You have asked me how I am, how I am doing. I have my own issues and you have been there for me to console me but I haven’t thought of you, I can’t say I understand how that feels, to be abandoned by a parent” Robyn doesn’t like it “I don’t want to hear it” she got up from the seat “but I do, I am not Monica where I will say you know what your dad should be like, I want to hear you Robyn. What happened to Rylee was never your fault, I know these words won’t heal you, but it wasn’t” she stared at me “Rylee needs you” I said in a whisper “the same girl that sleeps only when you sing to her, I bet she is wondering where her mommy is, you know she is because her eyes light up seeing you, she needs you more then me Robyn, I know that. Rylee adores you” Robyn put her head down, she was quick to run to the bathroom, maybe I can keep pushing her to break and she will talk to me.

#chriannaff #chrianna fanfiction #chrianna #chrianna ff #fanfic #fanfiction

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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The Eras of Lana Del Rey: Lookbook no.9

Hi to anyone reading,

Hope you’re okay! AND that you didn’t end up here because you searched the Lana Del Rey tag so you could see people ranting about her-you’re about to be very disappointed. Sorry. This is not about to be some Question for the Culture discourse because the world is bleak enough right now and the last thing we all need is to be reminded of that saga.

Being a Lana Del Rey fan is easy, they said. She’s not a controversial artist, they said. And yet 2020 had to do what it does best and fuck everything up.

Whether people like her or not, it’s made me so angry reading all the abuse she’s been getting about her appearance for the last couple of weeks, because I really thought that if we could agree on anything it was that attacking individuals for the way they look because you dislike something they’ve done (with the exception of shit like racist tattoos and blackfishing) is, you know, awful and judgemental as fuck? Like you do realise when you treat the word fat as a pejorative that the fat people you don’t have a problem with understood that you meant it as an insult too? I think what all those people tweeting about Lana’s weight, and that includes some of her fans, are forgetting is that she was in her early 20s when she was thrust into the limelight. As much as there’s this conspiracy that her dad bought her a career in the music industry, she’d made the decision to go it alone and had lived in a trailer park as a struggling musician for years. On top of that, we have the unreleased tracks with lyrics seemingly referencing an eating disorder in her younger years. OF COURSE her body is going to look different. Why is it that we treat weight gain as an inherently bad thing without any insight into the other factors that constitute a person’s “health”? It’s fucking insane that so many feel they have the right to comment on other’s bodies in the first place and it breaks my heart that she might be reading these comments. This wasn’t intended to necessarily be a rant about how much I love this woman but all the shit I’ve read about her on the internet these past few months have pushed me to it. You'll respect your queen of alternative music or I shall stan twice as hard on your behalf. You can thank me later when you come to your senses xoxo

I’d love to say it was intentional that I finally finished this post the week Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass was released but that would imply I have my shit way more together than I actually do. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve only heard L.A Who am I to Love You so far 1). because I want to wait for the hard copy for the rest and that doesn’t turn up til September and 2). because I do not have my shit together, lol. That being said, there is no doubt in my mind that I am going to love it-one thing I have always loved about Lana’s lyrics is how well they paint a picture and this is something that poetry only more freely allows for the exploration of. That ability to create such a strong narrative voice and atmosphere is a talent that extends to her visuals and the production of her records too, and is something I really missed when it comes to the Norman Fucking Rockwell era. I’m just going to say it: a strong aesthetic is to NFR as memorable songs are to Lust for Life. Lacking. Am I allowed to say that as a fan? The collaborations don’t do it for me, okay, and as as NFR is concerned, aside from The Greatest/Fuck It I Love You video which went down the whole neon surfer girl route, it’s hard to identify a cohesive theme. It’s understandable that at this point, she would want to just focus purely on the music, and it goes without saying that NFR will stand the test of time in that regard but I don’t think we can deny that when people think of Lana in the future, it’s not gonna be a green windbreaker that comes into their heads.

^Illustration credit to Filip Kozak (https://filipkozaksart.tumblr.com/?fbclid=IwAR3vwLX2pNxoFNhTPD1ky14LllPqlLtL1GxGlD79xuHxdtzcHLw-6aNBZWo)

And here’s where this Filip Kozak illustration comes into it; after years of it sitting in my camera roll for years, it finally has a use. There’s really nothing better to illustrate how mundane life has become this year than the disproportionate level of excitement my photo-hoarding-self experienced realising it would fit perfectly into this post and is thus eligible for deletion. Up there with being able to fit a whole box of biscuits onto the shelf at work rather than having to individually take out as many as I can and then shove them on top of the existing box of biscuits one by one. Truly riveting content on this Tumblr page. Back to the point-by using this as my stimulus for the post rather than the Lana Del Rey albums as outfits tag that went round on Twitter, I can conveniently exclude NFR as an outfit inspiration category, and that saves me from having to buy a charity shop windbreaker with its price bumped up 150% by some upper middle class Depop e-girl or boy who uses the word peng as a descriptor like it’s a nervous tic. To make up for leaving out NFR, I’ve tried to branch out a bit and do the outfits not just based on the music videos or album covers but also from street style and stage looks and photoshoots from around the same period too. It was hard not to be influenced by the general “vibe” and sound of the albums either when I was planning outfits, whether it’s the grand, orchestral instrumentals of Born to Die or the 70s psychedelic rock inspired riffs of Ultraviolence and hopefully that’ll show as well! Enjoy:D

Born to Die (Release Date: 27th January 2012)

It’s been 8 years, and when you ask most people what they think of when they hear the name Lana Del Rey, they’ll probably dismiss her as the one who sings about being sad and doing coke and sleeping with older men. That’s the Born to Die impact. Say what you want but it’s one of only a handful of albums released by a female artist to have spent more than 300 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart and it really established the mythos of “Lana Del Rey” because before all this, before all the think pieces from other women claiming she’d set feminism back hundreds of years with her music, before she ousted grayscale Effy Stonem as the queen of angsty teen Tumblr (which as you can probably guess was a subsection of the internet I was very much engulfed by, lmao), she was just Lizzie Grant, a relatively normal aspiring singer songwriter in her early twenties. But as Lana Del Rey, she was someone else-some beautiful, mystical being that personified the sentiment of being born in the wrong era. Whilst every other singer’s record labels seemed to be trying desperately to thrust them into the future and keep them on top of all the musical and stylistic trends, it was refreshing to hear someone whose music and visuals captured all the most glamorous elements of the past. Part Priscilla Presley/Jackie O reincarnation (the National Anthem video really illustrated how Lana is just as much a storyteller as she is a musician), part high level mobster’s wayward wife à la Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, she was the good girl by day and the bad girl by night, and I think that’s a duality we can all relate to or would like to think we’re interesting enough to relate to deep down.

Her style from around this period was EVERYTHING. She had those grungy Tumblr girl elements, the camo jacket and the oversized pieces and the leather jackets, but she also heavily drew on the styles and silhouettes of the 50s and 60s with the beehives and the new look Dior inspired cinched waist dresses. Even now in 2020, I think this period is what most people would think if they were asked to describe Lana’s style. I made sure I got the grungy pieces in there with the chunky boots and the vinyl and the oversized leather but the foundation of her looks back then were usually these daintier throwback pieces like the white silk dress and the corset and the mint fur trimmed coat (House of Sunny’s Penny Pistachio coat).

Favourite lyrics from the album? “Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fucking dream I'm living in” from Radio. Nobody asked but I’m gonna give it to you anyway.

Born to Die: The Paradise Edition (Release Date: 9th November 2012)

Lana’s Paradise EP contains probably my absolute favourite song of her’s, Ride, and with that, the beautiful opening monologue that will stay in my mind forever. This era was of course ushered in by Tropico, the short film that included the premiere of the songs Bel Air, Body Electric and Gods and Monsters, which established the ethereal tone of this period-it’s in the name, after all. Both the album and the videos were other-worldly and leaned heavily on religious symbolism which I’m sure pissed off many a middle-aged bible basher at the time. Most prominent in her lyrics were reflections on the freedom of the open road which corresponded with visuals of biker gangs and desert dwellers and modern interpretations of the Wild West, as was an attempt to capture the nature of the so-called “American spirit” which as Lana portrayed it shared more qualities with a kind of celestial, transient being than any kind of solid concept or identity. She played an emotionally detached stripper and a haunted saloon-style-bar singer (almost looking like a runaway bride) and Eve the “first woman” all in the same album and honestly, if that’s not iconic, I don’t know what is. We saw SO many incredible red carpet looks in this period too which built upon this idea of her as the fallen angel tempted by original sin that Tropico established; I feel like this era was all about laying bare the soul of the character she played, this broken, delicate but ultimately liberated being that was so dangerous to the idea of the strong, stable modern feminist ideal. She went about it in COMPLETELY the wrong way in a post that betrayed the ignorance of the privilege she has as a white female performer, but I think this is what she was getting at in it and Ultraviolence only went on to bolster her critics.

In response to the criticism she still receives about the choice to wear a Native American war bonnet in her Ride music video, I’d like to say that it really seems like she’s learnt from that-actions speak louder than words and so though it’s not my place to say whether this makes up for that error, the work she’s done with Native American reparations-focussed foundations since and the money she’s donated to the cause says a lot about her intentions. Again, I want to stress that it’s not my place to say! But it’s a detail that is often overlooked so I thought I’d mention it here.

“I was a singer, not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.”

Ultraviolence (Release Date: 13th June 2014)

AH, Ultraviolence. My favourite of Lana’s albums and imo, a masterpiece. ONE skip. ONE. Sorry Guns and Roses. I got stoned in my back garden and listened to this (for research purposes ofc, heh) and ended up deciding that this is what I want to listen to when I die (also whilst stoned). It sounds dramatic but listening to this album in that state of mind is such a heavenly experience that I’d be too zen to notice myself slipping away into nothingness on the basis that if I didn’t as long as I could stay in that bubble of awe, nothingness forever wouldn’t be so scary after all. I know, I know, that sentence has big Jaden Smith’s old tweets energy. But if an album is what helps me get over an existential crisis, I beg you allow me the nonsensical ramblings about how I felt like I was ascending into the stars.

Though in terms of the lyrical content the public perception is probably correct, I think the reputation Ultraviolence has as Lana’s darkest, most gothic album (which is something I’ve in incorporated into the outfits I put together) is mistaken; instrumentally and visually it drew more on 70s psychedelic rock and the bohemian counter culture of the period than anything, and her stage looks are a clear reflection of that, and also the outfits I was most excited to channel. It seems counter-intuitive to the moody atmosphere I associate the tracklist with but it’s my go-to summer album; it’s raw (probably her most stripped back work along with NFR, lots of the songs are barely edited) and it’s gloomy but let’s be real, hot as fuck-don’t bother making a sex playlist, just put Ultraviolence on shuffle, and you’re good to go. This was the album where Lana debuted some of her most criticised lyrics and where the notion that she glamourises abuse comes from, one of the points she also seemed to be getting at in the Instagram post, but imo it’s fair to say that she sang truthfully about the initial allure of a dangerous relationship and the nature of the mindset that facilitates staying with somebody poisonous where you do feel like you’re nothing without them. Turning horrific experiences into romantic tragedies is how Lana has always made her music and yeah, out of context there are some fucked up lyrics on the album, but policing how a woman expresses her trauma and complaining that she glorifies weakness because she wrote honestly about the reality of a complicated partnership is hardly any more “feminist” than the lyrics themselves. I can only guess that the reason Lana felt the need to bring up this criticism in 2020 is because these darker themes are going to be revisited in her upcoming album and that in spite of the issues with the way she expressed herself, this time critics will be more accepting of how she chooses to address these themes.

On a lighter note “yeah my boyfriend's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me” will always be a great line. Simple but effective. If my boyfriend ever is cooler than me it’ll be doing Lana a disservice.

Honeymoon (Release Date: 18th September 2015)

Considering that a lot of other Lana fans are of the opinion that this is her best album, I find it weird that I really don’t remember all that much about this period, other than High by the Beach being released and then hearing Salvatore and Freak for the first time. I guess because she didn’t do a Honeymoon specific tour and didn’t make that many public appearances in this period? It was definitely harder for me to find visual reference points beyond the HbtB music video and the cover art, so I mostly drew on the general vibe of the album, a cinematic accompaniment to a summer in Italy or the South of France, filled with exotic instrumentals and the sense of impending romantic doom that Lana does so well. I suppose if I associate the visuals of this era with anything it’s idyllic florals and warm tones, bygone country club pool days, a rich American’s vacation in Southern Europe, long walks on the beach (and as our Lord and Saviour Jujubee once said, big dicks and fried chicken). Apparently inspired by Lana’s relationship with Francesco Carrozini, it’s a hazy story of some ultra-feminine, submissive archetype becoming unhealthily enchanted by a mysterious “foreign man” who’s ultimately not all that good for her, which as the story goes turned out to be quite prophetic. Going against the grain, it’s my least favourite of her albums after Lust for Life, but in spite of that, I will always remember how obsessed I was with the sax riffs (I think? I don’t know my instruments all that well so forgive me, lol) on Freak and I definitely understand why it’s a firm favourite for so many.

“You could be a bad motherfucker, but that don’t make you a man.” was truly a cultural reset of a line.

-on an unrelated note, OMG, I never realised how I have my mouth open in literally every fucking photo I take, somebody tell me how to pose, please and thank you-

Lust for Life (Release Date: 21 July 2017)

Lust for Life is a controversial one. On the one hand, I appreciate that this album was the victory cry of a happier, more independent, politically-aware Lana in spite of it apparently being a far more optimistic sounding album than the one she wanted to release, but on the other there were way too many collaborations for me and this meant that the album lacked a sense of cohesion and the characteristic narrative thread that usually runs throughout her tracklist. Aside from Love, Cherry, Get Free and Tomorrow Never Came, most of the songs on the album aren’t hugely memorable and it’s a crying shame that a collaboration with STEVIE FUCKING NICKS of all people left so much to be desired. Coming from two witchy icons, I expected something absolutely magical so maybe I was setting myself up for failure, but come on. We could’ve had a real anthem there.

Aesthetically speaking however, this is one of my favourite eras for Lana, which is unsurprising when you consider the tracklist contains references to both Woodstock and Coachella. I’m not gonna lie, I think seeing Coachella fashion in my early teens was my style awakening-I remember seeing Vanessa Hudgens’ outfits and being like, wow, I want to be her (oh, what a fall from grace)-so the late 60s/early 70s flower power groupie style Lana adopted in this period really spoke to me. It was all long hair and dreamy pastels, and this era included some of the most head-to-toe coordinated looks we’ve ever seen from her. Of course I couldn’t completely abandon the grungy touches that I love, that I tend to associate with the early Lana street style days and the Paradise and Ultraviolence music videos rather than with this album, but I’m never gonna pass up an opportunity to whack out a good floral two piece and putting together Lust for Life inspired looks is the perfect excuse to do that.

So, that marks the end of this post! If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! I have a Yesstyle lookbook and review to edit but now that I’ve finished that, I’m trying to go down more of a style inspiration focussed route with my lookbooks rather than just putting together outfits from clothes I’ve just bought (though I might still do one every so often to bring in a new season-let’s just ignore the fact that they’re all blending into one bc climate change for now, one catastrophe at a time please universe). I find that if you have a specific idea in mind of what you want, it’s super easy to find something similar on Depop and Ebay and that way you avoid buying new things and also take old things off a person’s hands that might otherwise end up being thrown out by a charity shop and then dumped into a landfill from there. Something I’d LOVE to do before this year is out is put together a lookbook based on the most stylish TV shows of the last decade, but that probably won’t be for a while-even so, if you have any recommendations of series to watch which could fit into this category, let me know!

To finish, I need to go a little bit off-topic so forgive me, but I truly don’t know why this even needs to be said: WEAR A FUCKING MASK. IT IS NOT A POLITICAL ISSUE. IT IS A BASIC HYGIENIC PRACTICE THAT HELPS SPREAD THE STOP OF A HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS DISEASE! RUDIMENTAL SCIENCE! NOT A CHANCE TO PROVE HOW “EDGY” YOU ARE! SERIOUSLY, STOP MAKING A FUCKING PANDEMIC ABOUT YOURSELF! NOBODY ENJOYS WEARING THEM BUT THEY HELP PROTECT OTHERS! SO UNLESS YOU HAVE A VALID MEDICAL REASON NOT TO BE WEARING ONE, DON’T BE A SELFISH PRICK!

Sorry to sign off on a rant-y note with something that has nothing to do with Lana, lol, but all the stupidity has been grinding me gears lately and I had to let it out on behalf of all retail workers: if we can wear a mask for 9 hours at a time, YOU can tolerate the mild discomfort of wearing one for 10 minutes. I know this doesn’t apply to the majority of people but there’s always a couple of arseholes, isn’t there!?

Stay safe,

Lauren x

#ldr #lana #lana del rey #fashion #fashion blogger #style blogger #outfit inspo

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balizardsnakething · 4 years

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TW DRAMA AND ME ACTING ON MY EMOTIONS CAUSE OF THIS POST

Granted I did post this after sending her an apology and I’m glad I now have official confirmation that she has seen said apology. The very fact that I have sent an apology means that I had got over the situation and just didn’t care about it anymore. I also tagged @toomanyfamdom because we thought it was ✨funny✨ and have gotten over the situation (unlike some).

It should also be noted that I haven’t had any contact with Maddy since everything that happened and at least had the decency to send an apology and move on. Also, for the record, I had nothing to do with that list of toxicity. That list was put together and shown to me by my friends. I then continued to FORWARD THE SAME MESSAGE to Maddy because I disagreed with the list.

Let’s see, shall we? Up first on the list of hell that I had nothing to do with (and disagree with) there is... “inconsiderate of time zones and peoples family life.” This eventually turned out to be accurate, not just for me but for many others. Madison would organise events like DnD games at UNGODLY hours in the morning (because she is in American time zones) and when us British people were unable to turn up she would kick them from the game and then proceed to shame their character for an hour. Granted her uncle did pass (im very sorry for your loss), but that had nothing to do with anything. Many of us (including myself) helped Maddy and were there for her, and I have plenty of messages to prove it.

ANOTHER thing to do with time is when I was added to one of the greatest Instagram group chats in the world! However, my sleep was abruptly ruined when Maddy group-called the chat at 4am because she wanted to play Minecraft with a friend. Please direct call next time... thanks.

Whilst on the subject of time family life, one of the most memorable things this girl did was shame me and attack me on one of the discord servers we were both on. What made this even worse was that I had an audition for a London West End theatre school which had the power to change my LIFE. And Maddy knew this and also knew that it was worrying me and that I was extremely stressed about it. You may say ‘oh, it's just a coincidence’. If you believe that please explain why said post tagged everyone and was posted 5 mins before my audition. Maddy knew this would stress me out, I spoke about the audition and my ability to read into things many times before and she knew this would get to me! A lot of the things Maddy did were petty shit, but then again, that’s who she is.

Next up is... “shows blatant favouritism.” Well, it’s no surprise Maddy has so many friends! But which ones does she actually care about? My friends and I witness this first hand on many occasions, one of which being another DnD game where she was the dungeon master. Maddy made the turn order by (and I quote’, “the order is in who I love the most.” This caused some of us to feel a little uncomfortable, but we continued until Maddy put each character on a path to different destinations and explained which each path was. By the time it got to me, my dyspraxia/dyslexia couldn't hold the information, and I asked Maddy to explain them all again. Maddy agreed and but then ended with, “You just used up you go, Charley.” I was so confused! Apparently, explanations waste a turn??? But this was fine by me until Maddy explained the destinations to another player, but this time, she let them choose where they wanted to go instead of keeping them on the bench, awaiting their turn. Maddy would also allow people to have longer goes/round claiming that there was more to their story. My turn would be around 2mins where someone else would be 5. Again, petty shit which still happens to make people upset.

Note: It was not just me who felt this way! Many others slid into my dms because they felt upset with how Maddy treated others but not themselves.

Up next is, “making your best friend feel like shit for making a joke”. Another reminder, this list wasn’t written by me, it was written by my friend who was watching from the outside. And this is very true. I would often make jokes with people about Donald Trump and America because their laws and president (not anymore) were stupid. This always seemed to annoy Maddy and hurt her feelings. I would often make a throwaway comment but end up feeling bad about it because Maddy would leave the call. I always felt like I was walking on thin ice with her because if I said something even remotely controversial, she would not speak to me and leave the call. This really hurt me because I cared about my friends a heck of a lot and never wanted to ruin any relationships with them. I would send countless messages to Maddy, apologising and crying to her, telling her not to be mad at me. THAT 👏🏻 IS 👏🏻 A 👏🏻 TOXIC 👏🏻 RELATIONSHIP 👏🏻 One joke shouldn’t be the be-all and end-all of a friendship,, but that is what It always felt like! Also, Maddy never specified it was a trigger until recently, and even after she did say it was a trigger, I held back so she could feel comfortable.

The final thing is: “made you feel bad for your emotions.” Madison needs to learn that EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT and that people deal with things in different ways. Not everyone is smart, sensitive or skinny like she is. Whenever anyone hurt my friends, I would lash out and act upon my emotions because I didn’t know what else to do. This is something Maddy heavily criticised me for and something that eventually resulted in me listening to high-frequency sounds so I could get rid of my emotions and feel numb. My logic was that I didn’t want to hurt anyone ever again by jumping the gun and acting upon emotion. But thanks to others, I was pulled out of that loop, and I’ve learnt to use logic and reason as well as emotion.

As for “breaking my heart”. Yes. Our friendship ending did hurt me, a lot. Just like everything with you, it is very one-sided. I was reaching out, listening and trying to help Maddy repair relationships with people whom she’d hurt. We both said equally bad things which made the ‘relationship’ toxic, and I would just like to point out that the name, ‘evil Maddy’ is cringe and I’m ashamed I was ever friends with you considering you used that in a callout post. /hj

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

Sarcasm aside, ima be real here because I am not afraid to tell my side of the story. So, @ thenameisnoone / Maddy. Here is a long-ass response to the post you made about me. xx

Look, I’m not going to call you out or use Politics_notmything to cancel you because I’m not like that. I’m an actual good person who really tried with Maddy and dis my best to change myself to make her feel comfortable. I left a group chat with all my friends for a week and blamed it on ‘family issues’ because I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. I made an entire Birthday PowerPoint for her, which included some of my best and favourite bootlegs. I made a genuine effort, but Maddy didn't really do anything else but tell me to “calm down” or “not throw everything away and give in to anger or despair and calm down until you can think rationally and make a logical decision”.

And I’m glad I actually saw this because this is a classic Maddy move. She argues with people, builds up a situation then removes/blocks them, so they cant see everything she’s saying about them (i have proof of this from a server im in.) It has happened before, and she manipulated people into believing her side of the story.

“I am allowed to block people who lie to me about serious topics even though they have trust issues which makes them unable, to tell the truth, if it hurts them. I am allowed to talk to people who blow up on me before hearing my side of things where they would have realised what they thought is wrong even though I dont get back to people until 3am and decide to leave them on delivered/read for days at a time when I am happily talking in other servers. I am allowed to block people who accuse me of shit-talking them with my friends who I introduced them to (and I never do that) when I have only defended them and said friends genuinely were being nice to them even if they have proof. I am allowed to block people. Period.” - Maddy

And I’m not saying Maddy isn't allowed to block people. It’s a free world. Im just defending myself :)

Granted, Maddy did defend me and say that this situation shouldn’t change anyone opinions on me, and I can say the same. Just because I had a terrible experience with Maddy, doesn’t mean she is a bad person and I encourage anyone online who loves women’s’ history and WATT to befriend her.

But being honest, she did also call me a bitch on a Tumblr callout post, so I had to come and write this all down for safekeeping and reblogging purposes. Im not a bitch, and that is why I’m not using my following to cancel her. But anyway, we both had some shit experiences with each other so you can read this and make up your own mind even though I did back her up with the previous call-out post, sent her my support, apologised and didn’t block her when she was at a bad time in her life or when she needed help. If anyone has a problem with me posting this, please contact me via DM.

Sorry, not sorry ‘bout what I said. I’m just tired of your petty shit.

#it was supposed to be a joke #u took it too far #like u always do #please just move on #your causing so much unnecessary drama #no offence #but this is just stupid #also dont presume in not gonna find out #can we also talk about how #i destroyed my mental health for u #cos u wanted someone to spy for u #cos u were once again #BEING PETTY #also florida sucks #i just thought id mention #make sure ya'll vote biden next time

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 63: Land of Enchantment

Chapters: 63/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), What Beautiful Music They Make, Even When Diner Food Is Bad It’s Still Pretty Good, Not Very Healthy Though, Get Thee To A Waffle House

Summary: Loki visits Townsvill, USA

Loki had to admit a grudging respect for the human invention known as the internet. Such lawlessness. Such chaos. Such memes! And the fact that anything, anything at all, could be found there. Including information on the-to Loki's surprise-thousands of species of cicadas. It was one of the great mysteries of Midgard; this grand proliferation of living things. When just one version of something would have been fine, there somehow had to be dozens to thousands of kinds of that thing. Especially among the insect world. Why so many beetles? Why?

In your vast Iowa, there seemed to be almost twenty species, though, aside from size and color, there didn't seem to be much difference between them. They were all shaped like fat teardrops, with lacy, gossamer wings covering, but not hiding, their chubby, pointed abdomens. He did learn some interesting insect facts-there were some that only appeared every decade or so, some even went a full seventeen years without showing up, but when they did...

The word 'swarm' seemed to put it lightly.

Horrifying.

He learned about the singing frogs, and their whimsical names; the Bullfrog, the Chorus Frog, the Spring Peeper.

He researched the crickets, locusts, and grasshoppers.

He found recordings of all of these and more-coyotes, owls, the soft squeaking of bats. The loud, crepuscular Swifts, the equally loud, nocturnal Whip-Poor-Will, a well camouflaged bird named after its signature cry.

He could do something with all of this.

In the times in between doing his princely duties, he had things prepared. Some silk needed to be woven, some wooden frameworks made. It would take a little bit of time, but everyone worked faster when it was at the prince's request.

Once he had the blank 'canvas' on its series of wooden 'frames' he sent it to his favorite painters, with an image he wished for them to reproduce.

All the while he waited, he also dove into the study of your homeland.

Midgard was so very large, and he had spent so little time actually being there, and learning his surroundings. The sizes of countries baffled him sometimes. The United States was one of those countries that seemed to contradict its own existence. While not the largest of countries, it was still so large that its central government could not govern its entirety. Instead, it was broken up into 'states'; great chunks of land, many being so large as to be countries all their own. Each of these states governed themselves, reporting back to the central government. It was an odd arrangement, that struck Loki as woefully inefficient and ripe for rebellion.

In fact, his studies taught him that several such rebellions had occurred in the past, and had the possibility of rising again in the future.

He tried to listen to some of the music common to your nation-sized state, but could not stand it for more than a few songs. Modern Midgardian music was mostly terrible, in his opinion, lacking in melodiousness and refinement. The lyrics tended to be simplistic at best, examples of beginner's poetry.

He found some grudging enjoyment in the unusual instrumental achievements of what the radio stations called “Eighties Hits”, whatever that meant, but he would not be admitting that anytime soon.

The pictures and recordings didn't seem like enough. The music wasn't enough.

He needed to be there.

Loki could not take you to Old Asgard exactly, but he could make illusions to immerse you in the world in which he grew up. But you couldn't do that, you couldn't bring your homeland to him. If he was to understand you better, he would have to go there himself. Surround himself in your land, eat the food, breathe in the air.

And so he began planning a little vacation.

Or was it an espionage mission? No one other than Heimdall could know he was there: He was still very much a persona non grata in the United States. He could not take you with him. He would have to go in disguise. He would have to go at night, while you slept, so that you would not suffer for his distance from you.

Maybe someday he would be allowed back; to take you back to see all your friends and neighbors. Until then, he would just have to bring some of it back to you.

One evening, he kissed your forehead gently, telling you that he had an errand to run, and might not be back until morning. You were tired; it was clear to him. You didn't even question what he would be doing.

As he left the city limits, he let his outline shimmer and fade away, replacing himself with features that would be less likely to draw suspicion. Soon there was nothing but a grizzled old man in worn jeans and a stretched out black tee shirt. Boring. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

All the things he was sure he was not.

Heimdall met him with a sarcastic stare.

“What have we here?” He said in a flat voice. “A lost, Midgardian peasant? I suppose I shall have to send you home.”

In a time past, Loki might have felt bashful, but that was before he had realized that the gatekeeper had a sense of humor drier than the center of a star. Now he only felt grateful about how willing Heimdall was to break the rules.

“I wish to learn some things.” Loki said. “It's for the good of my subjects.”

“Plural?” Heimdall questioned. Loki pursed his lips and looked away. Heimdall twisted the sword.

The light gathered Loki up, and flung him across the sea.

*****

The fields were vast in the dying light, stretching so far on every side, that it was impossible to see their end. The only break in the tall rows was the equally endless road Loki walked. He could smell the green plants as the sun disappeared beneath the corn, and the dust, and the mud in the roadside ditches.

Heat distorted the distance, assaulting his senses, but not as much as the noise.

Everywhere, every cubic inch of the world was the sawing scream of cicadas. It filled his skull, filled his bones, inescapable and omnipresent. How did you sleep in this? How could anyone sleep here?

But as he walked, as the day faded and the night awoke, Loki began to hear the song. The insects cries had a rhythm that rose and fell in rounds, constantly changing as a frog in a ditch puddle sang along, as crickets among the corn roots added their harmonies. The interruptions as something, perhaps himself, disturbed the nearest singers, causing them to fall silent, and change the melody entirely.

The whole world around him was alive, and reveling.

A dome of light on the horizon indicated your town. He would be there soon, an hour's walk at most.

The closer he got, the less he could see the emerging stars, a problem even the smallest of Midgardian settlements seemed to have. There were more vehicles too, several of them stopping to ask if he needed help. These he waved away with a friendly declaration that he was just out for a nice evening walk.

Eventually, there came a break in the cornfields, a wide verge between farmland and civilization. A sea of grass and barely visible wildflowers, closed up against the darkening night. He leaped over the ditch and strode a few feet into it, focusing on the last vestiges of wildflower scent, of the insects that rose into the air, the evening choir all around him.

The flashlight shining in his face, the stern questioning of an officer. The warning to move along. He wasn't even bothering anybody, and still, he was somehow in trouble.

The officer also offered him a ride, but Loki didn't trust it. A ride to the local prison maybe. The fellow was a bit too canny; he didn't seem to believe a thing Loki said.

He finally passed a city limit sign, that boasted of its two thousand residents. Smaller, even than Asgard, yet you'd spent your whole life here. Hemmed in by cornfields, like great, green walls. Lulled by the song of nature. Sick, and starving, and scared, without him.

And for a year of it, nearly alone, surrounded by dead fields, like even greater walls, no word from the outside world. Isolated, endangered, without even a single member of your family to draw comfort from. All because of Thanos. Just like Thor had been, in the aftermath. Just like he had been, after he fell.

But never again. None of you had to be alone now.

For a town, the place was surprisingly empty. There were large spaces between buildings, overgrown lawns and poorly manicured houses. There were churches; though in this country, there seemed to be churches on every corner. There was the grocery store he had taken you from. The memory had grown soft and treasured in his mind. The way you had fallen so dramatically in front of him, like a swooning maiden faced with raw power. The way life had flowed back into your limbs when he touched you, the way strength seized your soul, and you had so adorably tried to break his nose.

All he had felt then was your warmth. The blow might have felled a human man, but he was so much more. And he had since proven that to you. Mostly.

You still weren't ready for further steps into this relationship. That was okay. You had a busy life now, lots to think about. Your days were full of so much more than just deciding what icing to put on the cupcakes.

Speaking of...

Loki wandered the isles of the grocery store, imagining that you had done the same. Day in, day out, up and down these cramped, harshly lit shelves, until it was memorized. He stood outside the bakery section-closed by this time of night-knowing that you had spent years in that very spot. How the work of your hands had been appreciated by everyone who had bought any of the wide variety of baked goods on display, but had never been attributed to you. Every worker in this place wore the same uniform, the same hat, the same color. They were forced into facelessness.

You had worn that same uniform when he first found you. You'd lost your hat in the mire outside New Asgard, and he'd had the ugly, ill-fitted uniform thrown out. Only the apron remained, decorated, bettered, made more worthy of you and what you were becoming.

Loki adored the style of clothing you wore now; a mix of traditional Midgardian forms and Asgardian details-as unique in its position as you were. And you had taken to it so naturally! It would be nice to see you in some purely Asgardian pieces though. Specifically, Asgardian lingerie...

Loki tore his wandering mind away from that alluring subject, lingering instead on the array of presumably delicious baked goods before him. There were confetti cupcakes with galaxy-colored icing, covered in glitter, labeled 'Sayd-cupkakes', and a little photoshopped picture of you with rainbows and sparkles fountaining from your hands. He was sorely tempted to filch it, but he had already stolen something from this place.

On a table next to the cupcakes, there were green iced croissants, slightly unfurled before baking, in order to make them look less like a swirl, and more like bulls horns. These were labeled 'Lossants', and Loki struggled with amusement at the awful puns, and awareness about how inappropriate this probably was, considering all he had done. This would never have gone over in New York. The store would have been shut down immediately.

But your old workplace honored you. And seemed to at least acknowledge the reality of himself. If this tiny town could do that, perhaps there was hope yet.

Loki headed down the street, where it seemed a majority of the local eateries were located, and chose the most rustic looking. This would be the place where the local poor would eat, when they could afford to.

The décor was odd to him-it seemed there was little thematic cohesion, with everything from old signs, to movie posters, to farm animals made of wood or tin affixed to the walls. The false leather of the booth seating was red and cracked, and the yellowish lighting threw a grungy pall over everything.

Even in the guise of a rough old man, Loki managed to charm the waitress, ordering a combo plate of breakfast foods, which he was pleased to find were served all day. These were delicious, but he could see how they would be unhealthy for a human, who burned calories at a slower rate than Asgardians did. But Loki knew that peasants of both species needed hearty fare, to do the work that they did.

Personally, Loki found these 'waffles' to be delightful in taste and texture. Did you like these? Had you sat in this seat, smiled at this waitress, eaten waffles off these plates? Did you like this sublime sweetness known as maple syrup?

Or did you eschew these things in favor of the protein? These heavy scrambled eggs, the crunchy bacon, the sausage that was uncomfortably greasy. Asgardian food had been refined over millennia to provide for the needs of mighty warriors: it would be much healthier for you than this.

But maybe he could have some greasy sausage brought for you sometimes. He knew how you loved strong flavors.

He could feed you little tidbits. You could lick his fingers.

Again, Loki had to drag his thoughts away from such subjects, and concentrate on satisfying his other hungers. He had to pay with Icelandic money, bespelled to look like American dollars, but he would likely not be back this way again, so it wouldn't matter when the spell wore off.

Besides, they could just exchange it, couldn't they? It was the correct amount.

He wandered out into the night, allowing himself to get lost in the streets of your town. It was mostly quiet, but the sounds of music and television sets could be heard inside the houses, and cars ran back and forth infrequently on the hot streets. There was smoke in the air, the sounds of gatherings in backyards, and even here, the cry of cicadas. Loki located your 'High School', and what must have also been your 'Middle School', and 'Elementary School', though he still didn't understand the distinction. But there was only one of each in this little town, so you must have attended at least one. Perhaps you had been selected for the 'High school' due to your intellectual acuity? But then why were you still a peasant among humans?

You were exalted in Asgard now, paramour to a prince. He wanted to believe that it didn't matter, but it was your upbringing. It was what had shaped your personality, and informed your outlook on life. This town, with its run down buildings and overgrown lots, fenced in by walls of corn, it had created you. This was your true maker; it moulded you, and was still a part of you, like the Shining Realm would always be a part of him, no matter what was going by the name of Asgard now.

Loki was not so sure that he really liked this place. For being so flat and open, it still felt hemmed in and constricting. But he liked you, so he liked something of this place.

He walked all the way to the other side of town, and out towards the corn. There was a verge here as well; grass and wild plants between the town and fields, and he lay down there, watching the stars go by.

He must gave dozed off, because next he knew, he was waking to a different song. Birds made up the chorus this time, and he sat up to the rising scent of clover, their little pink and white flowers heated by the light of the morning sun. They mingled with the honeysuckle vine winding along the fence behind him, and-yes those were the flowers you had shown him in the Akureyri botanical garden.

Eager to be gone before anybody noticed, he gathered a bouquet of the cheerful, purple blooms. These he pressed into your hands when you greeted him on his return, as well as a quick kiss on the top of your sleepy head

If you wondered how he had gotten them, you were too drowsy to ask, and he bid you go back to sleep. You could both be late today.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #Heimdall (Marvel)

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artnerd1123 · 5 years

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DTRH!AU Masterpost

Moving into a new post since I’ve got stuff actually organized!!! It’ll likely get an update from time to time. Apologies to those whom the read more breaks for ‘^^

Everything to do with this au will be tagged #dtrh!au or #down the rabbit hole au Individual characters are tagged with #dtrh![name]

Here’s an AU PMV for starters!

Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?

Putting this up here so it doesn’t get super buried- Here’s the fic(s) set in this AU! All Moving Pictures End

The AU crash course: The premise behind the au is that everything takes place in a pocket dimension controlled by a black magic script. Joey Drew is the one who’s writing/editing this script, and his rewrites affect the world and the characters within it. His constant reshaping eventually twists the world from a sitcom genre to a horror film- hence the horror esque setting, creatures, and plot. The characters didn’t escape the rewrites’ effects either. They’re warped into corrupted versions of themselves. However, these characters end up becoming sentient after awhile. The first one of these to become entirely sentient is Henry. He’s currently the only one who’s all the way out of alignment. A toon gone rogue, if you will. He still goes along with Joey’s “plot,” but it’s more so he can try to reach the other characters than to keep Joey happy or unaware of his actions. His goal is to basically “wake up” the other characters, so they can all stop living in a hellish nightmare studio and actually try and make something nice out of their home. He’s extremely dedicated to his goal.

Character time!!! toon trio refs / corrupted refs butcher gang refs / corrupted refs toon henry ref toon sammy ref / corrupted sammy ref toon susie ref / corrupted susie ref toon allison and tom refs / corrupted allison and tom refs joey ref / toon joey ref toon norman ref / corrupted ref toon bertrum ref / corrupted ref toon and corrupted grant refs toon jack ref / corrupted jack ref toon wally ref / corrupted wally ref toon and corrupted lacie refs toon and corrupted shawn refs

Character relationships/orientations

Concept art, anyone? toon trio concept work (w/ bonus corrupted bendy n alice) corrupted boris/alice concept work (ft bonus hen) butcher gang concept work (w/ corrupted forms) henry concept work sammy concept work (and more henry) susie concept work joey concept work corrupted norman concept work toon norman concept work throwing around lost ones ideas

Misc stuff Henry, but Goop™ Susie and Studio Tea™ Hey Henry, how do u feel about Joey? Yo hold up, hen and polk are a thing??? Henry’s glasses saga Regular studio shenanigans

FAQ:

How many of the employees are gonna show up? Hopefully all the named ones in the game! Once they’ve got a design, they’re guaranteed to show up somewhere.

Are they really carbon copies of the employees? Is there nothing different about them and their irl counterparts? They started as carbon copies! Latching onto their old traits and their old selves does help them come to their senses. However, different character development happens in script than IRL, so they end up different. Henry, for example, takes up the last name “Ross” when he wakes up (instead of his IRL counterpart’s “Stien”) to differentiate himself :0

So is everyone corrupted on purpose? Yes and no. Yes, because Joey chose to rewrite the script so much that it mangled characters, but no, because he didn’t intend to mangle them in the first place. It just kinda happened.

What makes them corrupted? Corruption is what happens when you can’t hold onto the core of what your character is, and get dragged into what the new script is telling you. It’s when you lose sight of who you are among all the chaos. People who are drawn farther away from their actual selves end up more monstrous. Susie (aka “alice” angel) is a great example of this. Bendy is too! Far be it from his real nature to be a murderous monster.

So can the toons be uncorrupted? Yup! Henry’s our model citizen this time. He looks more like a toon than a normal person, sure, but there’s nothing monstrous about him. That’s because he’s latched onto what makes him Henry. He’s not letting the instability of the world around him shake him up. Otherwise he’d be a goopy mess of ink.

Why’d Joey write everyone so differently that they corrupted? He’s actually very out of touch with people once he starts rewriting the script. Since his memories are getting foggy, he fixates on details that he can remember, and exaggerates them as needed. In fact, he’s hidden tape recorders around the script studio as built in reminders of these character traits.

How’d Henry wake up? And how does he plan on waking everyone else up? Ok… this is a longer answer. It all comes together, i promise. Jus hang with me. Whenever henry dies, he gets sent back to a sort of “first draft” stage. In order to get back to the world he’s supposed to exist in, he has to get through all the layers of ink Joey put down to get to his current script. As one can imagine… there’s a lot. So much so that Henry has to essentially swim to the surface. As he passes through all this ink, he can hear whispers of previous scripts. The deeper he is, the closer these whispers are to what the world used to be like. Seeing as Henry is the protagonist, he ended up dying… a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Joey had a lot of snags in the script to work out. All these times sent into the draft-y ink soup made made Henry slowly realize what was going on. He wasn’t mindless anymore. He knew what was up. After realizing that the world wasn’t right, it didn’t take him long to push for the rest of his consciousness. He plans on using what whispers and memories he can gather to bring everyone else back. He’s not dying on purpose, mind you, but he gathers as much information as he can to help everyone else realize that they’re not who they’re supposed to be.

Wait, memories? Does Henry remember the past scripts now? Not quite? He’s got a good enough memory stockpile to keep himself centered, but he doesn��t always know what’s up ahead as he heads through another studio loop. If Joey happens to rewrite or change around the script, those patches of Henry’s memory blip out of existence. Or at least get hazy. Hen can often tell if Joey’s changed something by how many holes he has in his memories.

Can anyone in the pocket dimension get out? Henry’s the only one who can get out! Joey literally wrote him a back door to the script. It used to be so he could talk to Henry whenever the “story” was over, but nowadays it’s just to judge how fast plot goes via how quickly Hen gets back. All Henry can manage to do is walk around and stare silently. And he can’t even stay out very long. Ink’s unstable in the real world. Gotta go back in n start the horror show over if u wanna live :/

Can Joey go in? Nope! Since he’s not made of ink, he can’t go in. He can watch tho!!! He does so via writing POV shifts into the script, and watches through whatever character it shifted to. Who needs cameras when u got the eyes of black magic toons n inky monsters ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Does Joey know Henry is sentient now? Nnnnot quite? He thinks the magic is being screwy with him. He can’t switch POV to Henry anymore, since the toon’s taken control of himself, and that’s real confusing since the writer doesn’t know what’s up. Plus, like mentioned above, Hen can’t exactly give Joey a sign once he gets out of the studio. Bummer :/

Is Joey gonna majorly rewrite the script any time soon? Nope. He’s to attached to his current plot to change the genre or anythin, so it’s gonna stay as is. With some changes here and there. One musn’t underestimate how many times u can change the order of scenes, or improve dialogue...

AU Background:

((this is long as shiz, so get some popcorn slfkjs))

Y’all probably wanna know how this whole horror show started. I’ve got two words for ya: Joey Drew. Unsurprising! But he’s our starting point nonetheless. Joey Drew is the retired owner of Joey Drew Studios, a cartoon studio that ran itself into the ground after a decade or two of fantastical cartoons. Money problems aren’t kind to the entertainment industries. However, the studio was still his pride and joy! As are the friends who stuck by him or met him during the time it was open. He kept up with all of them through the years. They were like a little family. Unfortunately, time has a way of changing things. With his friends drifting away, living their own lives, getting up in years, or a combination of the three, Joey wasn’t doing too well. He was lonely. Feeling washed up. Missing the glory days, where he helped work on cartoon scripts instead of submitting horror and mystery shorts to local magazines. Not all that surprising that he turned to something else to cope. This thing being none other than occult magic. Because… of course it is. It’s a habit he’s had for years. Nothing like some demonic rituals to spice up the life of the creative mind behind kids’ cartoons! Especially fun when you’re a man with poor impulse control and a wild imagination. In any case, Joey summons the three main characters of his beloved cartoon series. Bendy, Alice, and Boris! (I refer to these three as the “toon trio.”) He was just as happy that he’d managed to bring them to life as he was to have them around the house. It was like having slightly unruly grandkids with toony superpowers. In other words, they were absolutely delightful!!! He took care of them and admired their antics. It was a great time. … until. Well. It wasn’t. Turns out things that don’t belong in this world get rejected eventually. After a few months, things started go go wayward. The toon trio had difficulties maintaining their forms, moving, engaging in tropes, and a ton of other things. They were miserable. Joey was understandably heartbroken to see this happen to his poor toons. So, like any good person, he tried to do the right thing: put them back on the paper they came from. It didn’t end up working exactly how he’d expected. Everything comes with a price when you mess with demonic ink. The magic not only created a stack of paper instead of a series of drawings, but latched onto an old fountain pen and Joey’s closet. If the closet thing seems odd, it is. But it’s a convenient place to hide ritual pentagrams! So, closet it is. Upon frantic examination of the papers, Joey discovered it was a script. A black magic infused script. Three names up top told him the toon trio were the only characters. A bit of experimentation led him to discover that the magic-infused pen was the only thing that could interact with the script properly. Further experimentation showed him that the script had made his closet into a pocket dimension. The contents? Whatever was in his new script. This is where the real fun begins. The new magic script practically floored Joey with awe. He had a world he could shape however he wished! He could run all those scripts he’d never gotten to put in production! He could watch his toons frolick! He could even use it to play with ideas he’d never gotten to explore. The possibilities were endless!

((Of course, you might be wondering if Joey… y’know. Knew the toons were still alive. Because they were, they were just living in a pocket dimension now. In short? No. He didn’t. He carefully tested a few things with the script, just to make sure. All the toons did was what he wrote down. They moved like they were alive, but didn’t act that way. Plus, the dimension made them blank slates. They didn’t have any characterization in there to make them truly alive. So! For all intents and purposes? He saw them as you would any other character you write. A visual extension of his imagination. Ok mini rant over, back to the story--))

Playing with the toons was amazing. Joey hadn’t had fun like that in years! It was his little secret world, populated by his cherished toons. He could make believe whatever he wished. Eventually, though, loneliness started to catch back up to the old man. His friends… his family… life… it all went on. He just felt left behind. And what does Joey do when he doesn’t feel good? Not cope healthily, that’s for sure. Onwards to more occult magic! Only this time, he tries something… different. The toons were lonely. They deserved company. They deserved someone to take care of them. A familiar face. Maybe someone who helped Joey create them in the first place. Someone who’d just sent Mr. Drew an old letter and a card, since he hadn’t seen him in awhile… … someone like Henry. Using the magic pen, Joey traced over Henry’s note. Far from ruining the precious letter, it transferred “Henry” into the script. It’s not the real one! Basically a carbon copy, fresh from the time period that Hen first wrote the note in. Seeing as Henry’s letter came from around the time the cartoon studio was going strong, it’s an old version of him. But it was still Joey’s old friend. Just… toony. Toon Henry reacted just as his living friend would. If he wrote dialogue? He spoke it like Henry would. If he wrote some action? The toon put a classic Henry twist on it. Delighted, Joey returned to his script with renewed vigor. Toon Henry got to spend plenty of quality with the toon trio as the days went on. Thus began a trend of toonification. Missing one of his old friends? All Joey had to do was grab something with their old handwriting on it, and trace them into the script! There’s a carbon copy that acts just like the real deal! A fine compromise, right? … Right? Not exactly. It was fine at first. Joey made what could probably qualify as a sitcom-style story for the toony world to run on. His friends, at this point, all populated the studio. The premise was that the toons (now including the butcher gang!) had been summoned while he was still running the studio, and got up to hijinks with the rest of the employees. A hefty dose of actual studio drama- turned comedic, of course- kept the whole thing almost real. Joey even featured himself once or twice, but only in allusions, or a disembodied voice. He wasn’t about to let a carbon copy of himself have all the fun. It made him feel less lonely. More included. A fantasy world of never ending fun and heartwarming moments. How unfortunate it is that life doesn’t follow this pattern. Morality is a hard thing to come to terms with. So is sickness. Especially that of a friend. … it was just one rewrite at first. One alteration on a bad day. After all, using writing to cope is perfectly acceptable. One bad episode in the midst of sunshine doesn’t discount it all. One uncanny occurrence, though, doesn’t usually stay singular. It didn’t take long for the solitary rewrite to become two rewrites. Then three. Four. Six. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. More and more and more. Until the happy honey colored studio slipped into sinister sepia. This wasn’t the old script anymore. Not by a long shot.

The setting? A studio of shattered dreams. Your protagonist? Henry. His goal? Survive long enough to escape.

~It’s quite th͝e̵͞͏ ͠M̕a͘sţe̛̕r͘p̕i̵͝e̡ḉe̡̨͜~̡̛

#dtrh!au #down the rabbit hole au #dtrh!masterpost #/#//#batim au #woop woop!!!#this took me like... 3 hours #to get it all together #slkjdfkldsfj--#the hyperfixation is strong in this one :VVV #but!!! all that aside; updates to come; as usual. and if there's a question u have that's not in the faq; feel free to hmu!!!#arty writes

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crystalrequiem · 6 years

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The Voice that Urged Orpheus

[Part 3/6(?)] [TRC] Summary: Kurogane learns more about a mysterious new world and accidentally seals his own doomed fate. Tags: Kuro/Fai, Canon Universe, Post-Canon, Warnings: suggestive thoughts and implications (nothing graphic), People assuming married status, GOD, so much fluff, Is it still slow-burn if they’re already in a relationship? because that’s basically what this is. [Part 1] [Part 2]... [Part 4]

Honestly this section probably should have just been included with the one previous. Not as happy with it because it feels less... cohesive? directed? meh. Nevertheless I feel like it’s necessary to set up some of the world-building so I can get to the good points later. Hope you still enjoy! I really look forward to reading your comments and tags. They seriously keep me going!

The shopkeep, it turns out, does look a little familiar. She has dark-skin and a well-toned frame, pretty face framed by a shower of pink, fluffy hair. He doesn’t think any version of her has ever been a particularly close friend, but something about her rings a bell anyway.

“Hello, hello! Your young friend here was just telling me you wa—wow.” She seems perfectly amiable but the moment Fai steps fully into view, her whole expression shifts. Her jaw drops, and the wide eyes she graces them with matches the expressions they’ve been earning outside. “Oh-ho-kay, Hi! I’m so sorry; I didn’t think anyone from the academy would stop by, uh. How—how can I help you?”

Kurogane and Fai search each other out long enough to share a moment of confusion.

“Academy?” the mage echoes. However badly Kurogane’s attempt at reassurance rattled him before, he displays no indication now. Given his ability to bury his feelings beneath exhausting layers of façade, this comes as no surprise.

“Yes? I mean—I just assumed… what with your magic the way it is—” She glances from Fai to Kurogane and back, shock and bewilderment only incrementing. “Do you—are you two sharing the same magic?”

Alright, so they’ve at least found a reason for the staring. Apparently the people of this world can commonly sense magic, and they find something strange. Something about himself and Fai, in particular. Kurogane breathes a little easier given an idea of what makes them stand out. He just wishes he had any hope of keeping up with the why. Magic focused-worlds make his head spin.

At least for right now, Fai seems equally clueless.

“No, I don’t think we are,” he answers, bemused.

“Wow. Hunh.” Her eyes catch on something they can’t see, staring into the empty air between them.

“Actually, Miss Caldina,” Syaoran leaps to the rescue in the awkward silence that follows. “When I said we were travelers from far away, I meant… We’re from very far. We don’t really know anything about this place. Is there any way you could explain a few things about the area?”

The woman, apparently named Caldina, breaks herself from her trance. She pats her face with both hands hard enough to produce a resounding slap. “Sorry! That was rude of me. Let’s start over. Hello, Welcome to the Enchantress. Why don’t you nice folks ask me your questions and I’ll see what I can do?”

A world where everyone can see and use magic.

Kurogane doesn’t get most of what Caldina says, nor does he really understand what Fai and Syaoran ask in return, but he understands that much. People here… see magic. How much potential people have, the spells they cast, the lingering enchantments in his arm, and now his cloak.

According to the shopkeep, Syaoran’s magic stands out on its own—a prodigy, for certain. That alone might distract the townsfolk, but… Fai brings it to a whole other level.

Apparently Fai’s magic is dazzling. He stands visibly above the rest. Caldina had taken a single look and assumed he must belong to the city’s prestigious Academy, where this world’s best casters gather to learn and teach, developing the field of magic further. Then she’d spotted Kurogane and nearly had a heart attack.

“It’s like looking at a flame about to go out—for I second I thought you were dead! No offense!” He doesn’t know how the comparison to a corpse should not offend him, but in the context of magic he supposes he doesn’t mind. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone live with as little magic. I thought your husband must have been pulling from you or masking you or something.”

Chaos reigns as soon as she completes the sentence. Mokona bursts into a flurry of giggles, rolling across Syaoran’s shoulders. The Kid stares at his fellow travelers like a deer caught in lamplight, and Kurogane… looks to Fai.

The mage doesn’t react to Caldina’s mistaken assumption save for the extra-bright flush rising to his cheeks, visible even despite the sunburn.

“Well,” he murmurs, lips quirked in a teasing half-smile, “You’d be surprised how little magic people really need to live.” He doesn’t contradict her. He wants to tease—to fall back into their game of overreaction and meaningless words. Fai meets Kurogane’s eye like he’s issuing a challenge—just waiting for the embarrassment to overwhelm the surly ninja and push him to set the record straight.

He doesn’t.

Once upon a time he would have died of mortification and flown right off the handle to hear someone call Fai his husband. But right now… well it’s kind of his goal, isn’t it? It only annoys him that apparently people other than Fai don’t need his intentions spelled out for them.

Eventually, his family realizes he doesn’t plan to say a word. Mokona’s celebration falls to a hush and Syaoran clearly has no idea what to do. Fai’s expression remains implacable, save for the distinctive blush still written on his face.

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” Caldina drawls.

“Not really! It’s just that those two aren’t married..?” Syaoran takes pity on them all and lets her know, though the fact that he phrases it as a question doesn’t skip Kurogane’s notice.

The poor shopkeeper visibly takes a moment to process this information, flabbergasted. She stares again at whatever it is she can trace between himself and Fai, and shakes her head. “Why not?” her expression reads quite clearly. And boy, does Kurogane not have an answer to that.

“I’m doing a great job of putting my foot in my mouth today.”

“It’s fine! Sometimes Mokona forgets they aren’t really married too.” The manjuu chimes amidst nervous laughter.

Kurogane huffs and turns away, tuning out the cheerful banter that follows. Maybe this is part of his problem. After everything, he feels so close to Fai that even marriage can’t quite encapsulate what they already are to each other. In the end, the extra title of “husbands” won’t change them. It won’t make Fai more or less than he is, or guarantee a forever, or do anything other than put a layer of formality over what they already have.

Still… there’s something about that formalization that he wants. A definite moment in time he can point to as a promise made, a good memory he can give to Fai who has so many to outweigh it, a declaration of intent that the world can’t ignore… He wants to ask for that.

Maybe he’s just a sentimental fool.

He emerges from his thoughts, watching as the shopkeeper purchases a few of their curios for what seems like a decent sum of currency. They exit the shop with a little more confidence and directions to the famed Academy of Chizeta.

“Shall we?” Fai charms, gesturing theatrically towards the direction of the supposed academy. His early sunburn has settled on a pink that gives him a permanent look of over-heated exertion.

Kurogane squints in the too-bright sunlight, but only Fai truly blinds him. The jerk has no business being so damn attractive. Especially not when he’s going to permanently damage his skin at this rate, walking around with his hood down. The urge to thread his fingers through sweat-dampened gold and kiss that stupid grin off his face strikes Kurogane with all the force of a hurricane. He reaches out before he can stop himself and only manages to switch tacks at the last second, tugging Fai’s hood up far enough to cover his eyes.

“You’re gonna burn, dumbass.”

The line of Fai’s mouth tilts from shocked to pleased in moments, and the mage laughs, reaching up to adjust his cloak enough to see. Shit, Kurogane feels weak to that sound every time—unguarded and honest.

“Looking out for me?” Fai teases.

“Always.”

The word escapes him before he can think twice, but he can’t regret it. At least it forms some part of the mess he so badly wants to communicate. This time, Fai takes his desperate sentimentality a little better. He shakes his head, frustration and affection swimming in a churning cocktail of emotion behind his too-blue gaze.

“You’re hopeless.” He touches Kurogane’s shoulder as he sighs the words, sending a renewed burst of magic into the fabric that cuts right through the re-building heat.

“Can we really be sure they aren’t married though?” Mokona’s voice shatters the moment, and Fai and Kurogane both startle badly. He lunges for the damn pork bun, ready to pound it into mochi, before he thinks better of it and remembers that the world outside his Mage exists. They’ve already begun to draw stares again. Maybe Fai’s use of magic just now looked particularly interesting? He doesn’t know.

They start their sojourn toward the school in good spirits, even despite the heat and the persistent attention. He finds himself far less paranoid, even if so many eyes still make him feel like he doesn’t quite fit in his own skin. Syaoran and Fai take the lead, talking softly about cooling charms and how they work. Eventually, Mokona catches on that his cloak has already been ensorcelled and burrows into his hood without his permission. Annoying, but… well he can’t blame the manjuu for seeking out a little relief. It is hot. Part of him wonders why Fai hasn’t copied the spell on his own clothes or Syaoran’s, whether the spell might have taken more work than he thought, and whether he should pass the chilled cloak around in turns… He’ll suggest it when they stop next.

Either way, the enchantment does its work well. The ache of his shoulder nearly disappears as magic wicks the heat away. Less distracted by pain, he has a far easier time monitoring the stares they gather. He can track the eyes of others lining the crowded city streets as they trace lines of invisible magic. A few people glance his way in confusion, but for the most part, Fai and Syaoran draw a majority of the attention.

He thinks of Caldina, pleased and impressed just by the sight of them, able to gauge magic power with a glance, and something like pride struggles to escape him. It buoys upwards, a nervous bubble caught in his chest. So maybe he feels like the kid and mage deserve a little recognition… surely there’s nothing strange about that.

He can’t help wondering what they must look like.

“Everyone is so interested in Fai! Seeing magic must be very exciting. Mokona wants to see too.” The pork bun mirrors his thoughts and sours his mood, speaking in that tinny voice far too close to his ear. He’s not prepared to hear the mage answer,

“Oh, it’s not so exciting really….” Fai’s gaze drifts somewhere distant as he trails off. Sadness seeps through the cracks in his mask—hard to see, but Kurogane can find it in the way he holds himself. Old, and tired. Burdened by some bad memory. The kids don’t notice.

“Does that mean you can see magic too, Fai?” Syaoran voices the thought aloud, quiet enough to escape the hearing of any onlookers, and the mage’s smile sharpens. He focuses on the boy and that heart-twisting sorrow bleeds away.

“Not naturally, like people in this world can, but there’s an old spell for it from… well.” He waves a hand, as if to knock the words from the air. Kurogane knows somehow with a distant pang that he would have said “Valeria.” “I can show you later if you really want, but I promise it’s not as exciting as it sounds.”

The kids both chorus out a “Mokona does really want,” and “Yes, Please!” to the surprise of no one. Fai must have expected the children to say as much; he doesn’t so much as blink when he hears them. No. Only Kurogane’s quiet, “Sure,” shocks Fai enough to forget his words and halt him mid-step.

His cheeks burn with the weight of a different sort of stare and Kurogane looks to see his family gaping.

“What,” he grouches, and Fai rewards him with another honest laugh.

“Nothing at all, Kuro-sama.” He turns back to the path and keeps walking, careful to make sure Syaoran keeps up. “The spell has to be cast by the viewer to work. I meant to teach Syaoran, but… well…” He glances over his shoulder at both Kurogane and Mokona, smiles that slow, easy smile Kurogane loves so much. “I guess I’ll see what I can do.”

Kurogane manages to choke out a gruff, “thanks,” and tries to ignore everyone the rest of the way to the Academy. Between Mokona’s muffled snickering at his ear and the way Fai’s every breath draws his attention like a moth to flame, he does not succeed. He tries to imagine what the magic might look like—Fai somehow brighter and more incandescent than he already is, blue eyes cutting through his soul, that signature white and blue written into his skin or drifting off him in waves...

…Fuck. He’s so doomed.

#TRC #tsubasa reservoir chronicle #kurogane #kurofai #fanfic

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kdtheghostwriter · 6 years

Text

SNK #107 Recap

Not a prediction. A spoiler.

I’m going to get the criticism portion of this post out of the way first. This is mostly gonna be writer’s mumbo-jumbo until we get to the cut, so if you want to know my thoughts on THAT panel, click the link now. Everyone else...shall we?

It’s easy to tell when and how much editors are involved in a certain update. Turns out, they like exposition even less than some of you all do. Makes sense; exposition is quite hard, but in so many ways I felt like this chapter was what 91 should have been.

It’s a reset. A needed one. I’m telling you now as a scribe myself - after running for our lives for a full volume, we need a moment to stop, save the game, check our inventory, etc. I’m glad Isayama at least gave us one more chapter before launching into the next (and likely final) story arc.

Reiner should have opened the chapter. I say that purely based on how these last few chapters have been structured. Every shot is framed like a movie still. The movie buff in me is incredibly pleased by this, but the movie reviewer in me isn’t far behind, either.

A big problem with Suicide Squad - besides, well, everything - is that there isn’t any natural flow. The editing is terrible. I won’t call 107 terrible in that regard, but it is very sloppy. Reiner should start this chapter, because if we’re only going to Marley long enough to see Reiner check the plumbing, we should get it out of the way, and then cut to the kids, because he asked for them.

-Reiner wakes up, Porco offers booze, Reiner asks for Gabi and Falco -Gabi murks the guard, escapes with Falco from prison -Cut to Big Boss Eren, who is also in prison

It’s just basic sequencing. I get that 106 ended with Eren, so you’d like to see 107 start with him, but cold opens are a thing, and they don’t take that long. I actually start most of my own stories this way.

Paradis Island has three options presented to them that give them the best chance of being not-dead. Given that one of those options includes the End of the World, I can’t say they chose the worst option necessarily but, damn did they come close. It’s a really bad idea.

I’ll stop here and keep all the serious talk under the cut. It gets personal and some of you might not agree with what’s said, but I feel I need to say it, so I’ll give you the option of stopping here. I like this chapter overall, even if I didn’t like everything that happened.

Stray Thoughts

-Eren is still totally not cool for going AWOL and killing everyone in Liberio but...just what did Paradis plan to do as Zeke’s term wound down? How were they going to get to him?

-Keep your eye on Gabi. She’s going to have a heap of development shortly and it will be very satisfying.

-Armin is sulking in a dungeon; Eren is fuming in a cell; Mikasa is crying on a grave.

-Kiyomi greeting Mikasa with comments on how “healthy” she looked gave me major Get Out vibes. I don’t think she’s evil, but I doubt she’s genuine.

-Sadly, not even Zeke and Levi’s hike into the Forest of Big Ass Trees was enough to distract me from how very screwed everything is; but, it was still very cute.

Part of what makes fiction difficult is the reaction. We project so many things onto whatever it is we’ve consumed; that’s what we’re supposed to do, after all. But the author is, usually, an autonomous human being that creates of their own volition which always leads to feelings of some sort. Hurt feelings, happy feelings, outraged feelings.

I say that to say this: it’s okay to stop.

I say this earnestly as a friend and with zero snark. The best you can hope for from this story now is a bittersweet ending. It will not be happy. Not in the classic storytelling sense. I don’t like seeing people in any fandom struggle through a piece of work that clearly makes them uncomfortable. I like, even less, people hate-read something or feel like, they’re near the end so they might as well. Not so!

Historia’s fate is very distressing. Her complacency with this awful idea just because the Survey Corps couldn’t be assed to come up with one goddamn plan is upsetting to put it lightly. No one is happy and the story presents it that way. Which is good because-

I think I should get this one off my chest. I feel like it’s warranted, as well, since SnK joins the X-Men as the other most famous racism allegory. The discourse I’ve seen floating in the tag, while not incorrect, is overlooking a key undertone in this series (which wouldn’t be a first for this site ayy).

In Ferguson, MO and Baltimore, MD: two young, unarmed African-Americans were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. In one case, a man died in police custody after egregious abuse. In the other, a teenager was murdered by an officer in broad daylight. Both cities burned for days on end.

And then I see people talk about how we should change the way we dress and talk and how we should be civil and I laugh and laugh. Because literally the only thing we want to know is: How many more of our people have to DIE before we can be seen as human?

The answer in Real Life and Fake Life is: I DON’T KNOW.

Fuck.

Any followers of mine have no doubt seen my comparisons of this story to Metal Gear Solid. (I don’t just write about SnK, it’s just what everyone reads.) It feels weird because a) Hideo Kojima is a much better writer than Hajime Isayama and b) the stories themselves are very different. However...

How could I not?

You see, Jack was the world’s finest soldier, but his mentor defected to Russia and nearly plunged the world into nuclear war, leaving Jack as the only one who could stop her.

Only NOT. Joy was undercover and was compromised, but sacrificed herself and died in infamy to protect Uncle Sam from taking the heat for a horrific war crime (because our record is squeaky clean as we all know).

This breaks Jack and he spends the next four decades trying to fulfill The Boss’ Will, not realizing that his unending anger and unchecked PTSD has warped this ideal to suit his need for blood and violence.

Kojima-san has a relatively hopeful view of the human condition despite the suffering that occurs throughout his series. Metal Gear Solid ends with two lives converging on one another as they reach their apex. Jack finally gets revenge on his oldest enemy and dies alone on the grave of his mentor. His son, David, walks away from the battle and lives a quiet life with his otaku husband and their adopted daughter.

Kojima’s message is clear: you aren’t where you’re from. The theme comes up often. As Logan bleeds out in his daughter Laura’s arms, he tells her not to be the weapon they made her. Going by the recent updates, it seems that SnK is just a tad more cynical. And that’s fine.

I saw Ant-Man and the Wasp recently. Compared to the sheer density of Avengers 3, this was a light and airy jaunt. It had a happy ending. A very happy ending. And I did not like it. The movie was fine, but the resolution to the conflict (no spoilers) was so rushed and involved a deus ex moment that would make Steven Moffat blush. I don’t need a happy ending (I’ll still take one), I need a satisfying one. Now, what does that mean?

The best chance Shingeki no Kyojin has at a happy(ish) ending is for Reiner Braun (Solid Snake) to infiltrate Paradis (Outer Heaven), track down Eren Jaeger (Big Boss) and beat the shit out of him until he wakes from his living nightmare and says, “This is a terrible idea! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” wherein everyone responds, “We DID!!!”

I feel like only half of that is going to happen. Eren’s mind is fractured and the world continues with it’s awful machinations. And whenever I feel I should even half-heartedly dispute the idea that everyone sucks forever, I remember that the “Land of the Free” is currently holding toddlers in cages and...welp. I got nothing.

Then, I think about my younger siblings and my goddaughter and how I love them all so much - more than I love myself. I just want them to find a happy life somehow, someway in this crazy world and I know I can’t give up, because they’re watching.

That’s why I still write my stories the way I do. I may be emotionally busted, but I still believe in the message, and just need someone to take the baton. The message, in almost every story I write, is that you need your fucking friends, because finding another human being (or multiple!) that can stand your presence for more than thirty seconds at a time is a gift that must be treasured.

Chances are slim of this happening in the world of SnK, and that may not be the worst thing. A satisfying end for me is one that makes sense.The gymnastics required to get to an ending where one of the main characters doesn’t die a horrible, cursed death would be worse than the gymnastics that got us here to begin with. No two writers work the same.

The official mood for the latter part of this series is EMA facing the ocean in Ch 90. Eren asks if they’ll have to kill everyone on the other side of the water and his two mates each have an expression that says, “Shit, man, we thought maybe we’d build sand castles instead.”

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nitros-oxide · 7 years

Note

▶▶️

send “▶▶️” to get a glimpse at a scene from my muse’s future.

(( Just so yknow, don’t feel hesitant to send more because I’ll be down to write more ))

(( ALSO YEAH THIS IS GONNA HAVE A SPECIFIC TAG CUZ IT IS SOMETHING I WANT TO WRITE MORE OF))

(( I present to thee, a revisit of something I wrote long ago ))

(( Post write note: WOW THIS GOT LONG ))

As the light of Gasmoxia shined into the red eyes of Nitros Oxide, he thought back to how he even ended up on his home planet once more. Not like they would ever suddenly need him. Or so he thought.

A while ago, the insectoid was outside of his ship, keeping an eye on the troublesome nature of his offspring, Sylazide, watching nym try to get more skilled at flying while using nis telekinesis at the same time. Ne had so much potential, Oxide muses to himself, and yet nym actually getting to be what ne was truly meant to be was probably out of reach. Earth was no place for alien royals. Sure, it was a useful break from that nonsense, but it still left him with that sensation of emptiness, as if someone was missing.

Then, as if fate heard his thoughts, there was a beeping within his ship. Odd, no one usually sent him a signal of sorts through his ship, not when he had one of those communication devices on hand at all times.

His four legs skittered, rushing towards the front of the ship, pressing a button. Throughout the ship, a familiar voice echoed. It was his parent and current Queen of Gasmoxia.

“Now, Oxy, before you say anything, I have to make this quick. There’s a lot of shit to get done.” She sounded noticeably weaker. “I am being told I have to step down from being the ruler of our planet. It’s been fun, and I wish I could continue, but I have to retire. I can’t get out of bed! I’m going to be looked into later on, they worry that the bees are getting into places they shouldn’t... Oh right, I’m supposed to make this snappy! Sorry, we’ll discuss this later! But, to sum it up, get your ass to Gasmoxia, hun, cuz you’re gonna rule this world now!”

The transmission ended, as Oxide was just left staring into the abyss. Now, paying no mind to the fact that something was wrong with Glycerin, I mean, she was nearing her 1000s, so many years of being in her condition as a parasite host had to take it’s toll eventually.

He continued to be silent for a while, dreading having to face up to his world as it’s new Queen. He was broken out of his state as he heard Sylazide approach from behind.

“Yo, Par, did I hear that right? I mean, this can’t be someone tryin’ to fool you, no one can mimic her voice.”

“This is no sort of joke.” He responded. “She explained it in her own manner, and was blunt about it.”

“So, what we gonna do? We can’t just ignore this. We are practically being summoned to... Gasmoxia... away from here... “

“Well, we are going to go to Gasmoxia, and we shall deal with this. A Nitros doesn’t run away, we face this problem!”

“... But Par, you... retreated to Earth, in fear of your people.”

“Nitros Sylazide!”

“I’m just sayin’! Are you sure you are ready to put your best leg forward into this situation?”

The green elder just glared at nym.

“Listen, let me joke, I don’t like the thought of leaving the place where I was raised! ... Do I at least get to say farewell to Cotton and Hydro?”

Oxide nodded, watching his spawn fly off. Smog dammit, how was he going to explain this to to everyone else? Well, surely the two of them were going to insist that this wasn’t a permanent thing. Okay, it was permanent, being a leader of a whole world is a big deal, but it wasn’t a forever farewell. In fact, knowing all about Earth now, could lead into some sort of alliance, a bond with the planet. Even if that meant Earth leaders would now have to truly grasp aliens exist.

Oh well, to cross that bridge when it comes!

Then, present time, where the light reflecting into the bug’s eyes passed, and Oxide looked at the crowd of Gasmoxian citizens staring at him. He tugged at his collar, worried about how this was going to go down. He clenched his hands into a fist, scrunching up his trunk, before taking a step further into view, trying to ignore the floating cameras recording him.

“Greetings, people of Gasmoxia! You... probably aren’t pleased to see me. I disappeared for too long, I fled like a coward, I was dead to you all. But I have returned, to take my rightful place as Queen, because like it or not, it’s Smog’s will. Now, I know already I’m not shaping up to be the greatest leader, with this sort of snarky speech. But trust me, I have learnt from my retreat.

Dear Nitros Glycerin was a wonderful leader. I will not turn a blind eye away from the fact that she was madness and mayhem incarnate, neither do I believe that senseless murder because she could was right. But she believed in being the best, and that all of us on this planet had the power to succeed, no matter the odds.

Now... if any of you have any sort of questions about me as an individual, or negative comments, redirect them to N. Trance over there.” Oxide smirked, pointing towards a certain other dimensional egg that snapped their claw at the audience.

The insectoid continued to speak. “I promise, I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.” He looked over as he heard Sylazide mutter something. “Albeit, I’ve put it off for so many years, due to my interest in racing, and so on, but regardless, I know what I’m doing. I will do my best, even if I know you will continue to judge me, because you all will never change.”

There was a silence amidst the crowd, while Oxide stood now with confidence.

“Your Prince... no, your Queen has spoken!”

#sourattitude #Salty Sovereign | Queen Oxide #Seed of Evil | Sylazide

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darnloveablecharacters · 7 years

Text

Prove Me Wrong, Part Eight: A True Friend

Series Summary: Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Balin is just such a wonderful person in every version of The Hobbit. He’s another one of those characters that just doesn’t seem to get near the credit he deserves. I think he would be my best friend too :-) Fun fact, her parents’ names are actually my parents’ converted names.

On a side note... I just started school, and am going to attempt to fast track it so once I really start getting going with my school work, I may be posting less. We shall see though. I love writing and it will probably be my break from the work/school craziness.

Warnings for this chapter: angst

Translations: none

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged

It had been raining for a few days now, and the entire Company was soaked and miserable. Caithwistë was deeply preoccupied while Mithrandir spoke of the other wizards in the world. Her thoughts were centered around Thorin, as they always seemed to be as of late. She had avoided being alone with him since the night he followed her to the woods. There was a time, and a place, for the feelings she was trying to work through. Unfortunately, this quest was neither of those.

The only words they had shared were simple greetings, or his praise when she would return from a successful hunt. Even with the limited contact, he managed to invade her every waking thought and even her dreams. She tried to distance herself, but the more she pulled away, the more vivid the dreams became.

As time passed, she found herself sleeping less and less. She took a long watch every night, trying to avoid the dreams. But even then, as soon as her eyes would close, he would be there waiting for her.

She was so exhausted, that she hadn’t even realized that Balin had been trying to speak to her until he gently nudged her. “I’m sorry Balin.” She said, shaking her head. “What did you say?”

“I was just wondering Miss, would you mind if I ask something personal of you?” He asked kindly.

She couldn’t help the surprise from showing on her face. “Of course, Balin. Anything.” She said, unsure of what he could possibly be curious about.

“Thorin mentioned in passing that you spoke in khuzdul.” He said.

Caithwistë raised her eyebrows. She didn’t expect to hear that Thorin would have told anyone about their conversation. “I suppose I did. Is that uncommon?”

Balin gave her a curious glance, then nodded. “The language has been a secret for ages, only passed between dwarves you see. How did you come to learn it?”

Caithwistë glanced at him silently, suddenly fearful of what he may have guessed already. Her father had never explained that the language had never been passed to a non-dwarf.

“You don’t have to tell me of course. But I am rather curious and would love to know your story.” He smiled at her and winked. “I promise I will speak of it with no one else if that is your wish.”

She looked forward to the head of the Company, where Thorin rode next to Dwalin and sighed. She knew the old dwarf was trustworthy, but she was still afraid of what the truth could bring. She had already grown close to the dwarves, and even the hobbit, and didn’t want to ruin what she had. Still, she wanted nothing more than to be accepted as she was. “I will tell you Balin.” She said cautiously. “But not with this many ears around.”

He smiled as if he had been given a great gift. “May we speak tonight? We can find a place away from the Company after we stop.”

Caithwistë couldn’t help but return the smile at his enthusiasm, and nodded.

The rain finally had quit, and they stopped at an abandoned farmhouse to rest for the night. As she took in the surrounding area, Caithwistë felt uneasy. She associated the feeling with the pending conversation with Balin until Mithrandir stormed away from Thorin, cursing dwarves.

Startled, Bilbo tried to catch up with him. “Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?”

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.” Mithrandir grumbled.

Bilbo stopped in his tracks as Mithrandir climbed on his horse. “Who’s that?”

“Myself, Mr. Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” Mithrandir snapped, wheeling his horse around and riding away.

“Come on, Bombur, we’re hungry.” Thorin called from behind them, startling Caithwistë.

She watched as Bilbo whispered something to Balin, who shrugged and walked away. He caught Caithwistë’s eyes, and motioned toward the forest.

Everyone was busy either setting up the camp, and they wouldn’t immediately notice their absence. Steeling herself, she followed him to a spot in the trees where they could still see the Company, but they would not be overheard.

“So, lass.” He said, sitting on a fallen tree. He still smiled as if he were a child about to receive a treat. “How did you come to learn khuzdul.”

She leaned against a tree, and closed her eyes trying to center herself. When she opened her eyes again, Balin was still on the tree waiting patiently. She sighed, and finally said. “My father taught me.”

Balin’s eyebrows raised, “Oh? He must have been very well traveled for a hobbit?”

Caithwistë bit her lip. “He wasn’t a hobbit.” She said slowly, gauging his reaction.

Balin continued to smile, and gestured for her to continue.

“My father… he was a dwarf.” She said, biting her lip again preparing for the worst.

Against her expectations, Balin showed no signs of anger. He simply nodded thoughtfully, still smiling. “I thought as much.” She raised her eyebrows at this, shocked. “You don’t carry yourself much like the hobbits do. And, though it is exceptionally rare, I have heard of some dwarves finding their One in hobbits. You’re the first child of such a pairing that I have met though.” He explained.

She nodded, afraid to continue again.

He furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “Who was your father?”

Caithwistë took a deep breath again. “Rofur, son of…”

“Lofur.” Balin finished suddenly. His eyes widened, and Caithwistë tensed seeing the recognition on his face.

“You know my father?” She asked quietly.

He nodded solemly. “I know of him.” She glanced at him quizzically, and he continued. “I read of him when I was just a lad. I fear there are few left who would remember his name though.” He glanced toward the camp with a sad look.

“Why wouldn’t they?” She asked, even though she was sure that she already knew the answer.

“His name had been removed from all of the ancestral records my dear, save for a few.” He said, now watching her warily.

Even though his words were what she had expected to hear, she could feel the untapped anger bubbling inside her. She nodded silently, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. Her father deserved better.

“Will you permit me one more question lass?” Balin asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She looked at him with glassy eyes, and nodded again.

Balin sighed. “Your mother...” He began slowly, “she was an elf?”

She knew, even then, that Balin didn’t deserve the brunt of her anger. At his question though, she suddenly couldn’t contain it. “My mother has a name.” Caithwistë said angrily. “Calyniel Aranel. She loved my father with all of her heart, even though he was a dwarf. She loved him so much that when he was murdered she was left heartbroken, and sailed to the undying lands.” The tears had started to fall from her eyes, but she wasn’t finished. “They gave up everything for each other, and the world hated them for it. Now they’re both gone, and I’m alone in the same world who hates me for existing.” The tears were flowing freely now, and she dropped to her knees burying her face in her hands. Even though her emotions had flown out of control, it felt good to finally tell someone what she had been holding back.

She tensed when she felt Balin patting her gently on the shoulder. “I don’t hate you. In fact, I think that you may be the bravest person I have ever met.” She glanced at him with tears still in her eyes as he continued. “I have grown very fond of you my dear, and I think the others have as well.” He said, glancing toward the camp again.

Caithwistë followed his gaze. The sun was now setting, and the others were conversing jovially around a fire. “I am very fond of all of you as well. But, none of them even know what I am.” She choked out.

“Perhaps not.” He said thoughtfully. “But I think they know who you are, and that’s what really matters. Isn’t it?” He said smiling at her.

She gave him a small smile, and nodded back.

“I must admit though, I think it would be wise to keep this between us for now. I would like to believe that they will accept you as I do, but I think they need more time to adjust. I would hate to lose the reason for the meat in our meals over a silly feud.” He said, winking at her.

She felt tears in her eyes again, and hugged him fiercely causing him to gasp in surprise. “Thank you Balin. You’re the first true friend I believe I have ever had.”

He returned the embrace and chuckled softly. “It’s my pleasure lass.” He said cheerfully.

She pulled away from him, and was about to speak again when Fili suddenly burst through the trees. “Bilbo!” He shouted breathlessly. “They’ve taken Bilbo!”

Caithwistë and Balin shared a worried glance, and they dashed to the camp to retrieve their weapons.

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #thorin x ofc #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield

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extraupdate-blog · 7 years

Text

Five Top Tips For First-Time Bloggers

New Post has been published on https://extraupdate.com/five-top-tips-for-first-time-bloggers/

Five Top Tips For First-Time Bloggers

So, you have determined you want to make a blog. After all, absolutely everyone appears to have a blog nowadays. Once you’ve got settled on the subject of the blog, you need to determine in which you will host your blog: select from a unfastened host like Blogger (BlogSpot) or WordPress or you may choose to pay for web hosting and that manner, your blog domain call will now not encompass the call of your host. This selection honestly depends on you; the general public select to pay for website hosting when their blog is for business reasons. If you are simply running a blog about your final holiday or your puppy cat, then there may be little want to spend money on web hosting. Later on, you may constantly migrate the blog to a paid hosting account, in case your desires trade or your weblog develop right into a money-making challenge. Finally, you want to pick out and sign up a call and then you may be prepared to move. But earlier than you begin blogging, examine these following hints, most of us need our blog to be read by means of as many humans as viable. Once you have got ordinary and repeat visitors on your page, you will be capable of beginning earning profits. These tips must assist you to get maximum site visitors on your web page, enhance your blogging experience and get the maximum out of your blog.

1. Create a sitemap in your weblog

Why create a sitemap? A sitemap is, as you might wager from the call, a map of your website that facilitates the search engines find their manner thru your website online and index your pages efficaciously. You can create a sitemap in Google Webmaster Tools. Make a Google Webmaster account (in case your weblog is with blogger, it will understand your login. Once you have logged in, add your web page (blog) and follow the instructions to verify the web site. Once you’ve got validated your site, select the choice to make the sitemap and then post the sitemap to Google. You must go back and post your sitemap regularly to ensure the search engine is indexing your most current pages and content material.

2. Create seek-engine pleasant URLs

The URL (area name) is a completely important part of your website. Ideally, the URL you have chosen in your weblog will encompass as a minimum one or two of the keywords associated with your product/service/information subject matter. For example, in case you are writing about inns in New York, new-york hotels would be an awesome web page, in which as tiger101 could be totally beside the point. If the favored URL is not available, attempt versions, like new-york-hotels, hotels innew york, and so on. Once you begin creating pages and adding posts, every item will have its very own URL, like newyorkhotels.Com/domestic and newyorkhotels.Com/pageid=7, wherein pageid=7 is the number generated by using the host to call your page. This is an example of a standard URL. It does nothing to assist the search engine to discover your content material without difficulty. If pageid=7 is the code for a web page approximately The Hilton Hotel, it’d be higher than the URL read newyorkhotels.Com/hilton. In some blogging software, like blogger, this form of URLs are generated mechanically, wherein as in others, like WordPress, you need to put in an SEO (SEO) plugin. The All in One SEO Pack is a good alternative. Once installed, you want to go to the settings of the plugin and choose “Generate Search Engine Friendly URLs”. From now on, the URL for every page might be composed of the area call of your website online and the name of each page/post. It is now critical to make sure you identify your pages in a logical and relevant way.

Three. Submit your URL to Google, Yahoo, Bing and Ask

The serps work buys periodically ‘crawling’ via all of the pages on the World Wide Web. It is not known how regularly they do this, so to hurry up the manner of them locating your site, you should post your website to every of the essential search engines like google. To try this, without a doubt do a Google seeks ‘Add URL to Google / Yahoo / Bing / Ask, and follow the instructions.

4. Add content often

Search engines reply to sites which are often up to date with new, unique content. Try to feature something for your web page every day, although it is something small. Make certain that with every put up you encompass tags and/or key phrases related to the problem. These should be key phrases or key-terms for which humans will be looking.

5. Submit your blog to weblog directories

You have to publish your new blog to directories of websites and blogs on the internet like www.BLOGBal.Com. There are lots of directories out there that assist you to increase the visitors to your website. Look for one that has clear sections and make sure you add your weblog to the relevant phase or sections. Happy Blogging!

HyperLog for Hyper Bloggers who discover Blog Layouts All Wrong

Many Bloggers are certainly out of control and if you visit their websites they have got 10 posts all with in multiple days or so. I locate those humans to be what I call hyper bloggers and a few have a few as a substitute interesting things to mention. Of direction you already know you can’t surely go to some of these running blog websites every day due to the fact you do not have time and then whilst you come again per week or later you can not ever capture up.

So what can a hyper blogger do to help prevent this state of affairs from demoralizing the Internet Surfer or their unswerving web visitors? Well first shall we have a look at the inherent hassle with Blogs, you see they are labeled via date and that makes them hard, due to the fact in the event that they had been categorized by way of problem they would be much better for the way the human thoughts thinks and loves to accumulate information.

Humans are always and all the time to categorize stuff to put it into their memory, this is how the mind works and memorization with the aid of affiliation appears to be the very best manner to shop records; Association being the class in, which the information falls into.

Now then, most all blogs have a seek function on them, alas that doesn’t work well for blogs, due to the fact maximum blogs are not using the industry Buzz Words as they are written in remembrance of reality type conversational patterns, despite the fact that some buzz-words are now and again woven into the situation. You can consequently see the issues and why Hyper Bloggers locate Blog layouts all wrong.

What is the answer? Well, the answer could be a weblog that lets in the owner to put up and additionally selected from several classes, which would take the blog posts and reflect them into the Internet.Personal home page kind forum, in addition, to put up the data in chronological order, they ought to do each.

So, the person who re-designs and re-defines Blogs and allows for this form of the duality of categorization will be only who attracts the hyper-bloggers and could win the subsequent battle of the Big Blog Boys. Call it a HyperLog and you will win the marketplace place. Consider this in 2006.

When a blogger has come to the brink of fulfillment – which means famous inside the net but not excruciatingly a lot – there are times whilst he or she might also run out of things to mention or possibly become dull. There are numerous motives: first is the regular strain to replace each day to hold the target market’s interest; second, the want to talk casually yet brilliantly about matters which can be amazing or trivial; and 0.33, to perform the mission of coping with critics inclined to place everyone well-known in disgrace or out of the highlight.

And because of these troubles, bloggers can also suffer what novelists and authors also have constantly – writer’s block. How can one triumph over moments like those, and what does he or she have to do? First, get an actual excursion. Inform enthusiasts of a two-day break and do some thing outstanding: journey a remote area or make a sudden circulate. Surely, this could help the blogger legitimately get away the obligation of updating for the period in-between and get new thoughts during the technique of trying out new matters.

Just constantly carry a notebook and pen as well as a digital camera around, so that it will scribble themes and thoughts inside the new surroundings and seize lovely visuals to awe and encourage the readers.

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