#i have realized that once I started doing silly comics for myself mostly I feel less pressured to live up to anything

[docdufresne]

100% I agree with the last ask where it's such a refresher to see RvB content on my dash. I've thought about rewatching it recently and you're definitely a huge influence. Hope you're having an awesome day my dude and please keep drawing what makes you happy :)

YEEHAW THANK YOU!!!!

I did a huge rewatch earlier in the year since the series ended, and it really just was what I needed to kick my artistic drive back into gear after not having much influence for a while!

It was really fun going back through and watching all the old seasons and getting inspiration from the weird and funky interpersonal relationships that these guys have with eachother.

I'm glad I could bring some joy into people's lives with what also makes me happy!!

Have a wonderful day yourself!!

[scone-lover]

Happy Birthday to Holding Out For a Hero!!! ❤️

art by @subparselkie

I published the first chapter of my longest and most popular fic just about a year ago! And I bet you always wanted to see some shitty outlines. Right? Just giving the people what they want. My brain is chaos and now you all have to be subject to it. Strap in, boys. 😂 Everything’s below the cut!

Read Holding Out for a Hero on AO3

This fic was born because I saw a tumblr post about a hero and villain who are roommates and I just had to Snowbazzify it. I had so many random ideas in my brain, and I’d been engaging with fan content for the CO fandom for a few months now.

So I started off by opening a blank document and writing the Prologue, featuring Shep. I had a few basic facts in mind: Shepard’s a reporter, Simon’s a hero, Baz is a villain, Mage is an evil mayor. And that’s. Literally it. I made it up as I went along. I actually still do that with fics, even though I do try to outline in more detail now—I have to write a scene or two that’s been bouncing around in my head to get a feel for the story, then I can give it a direction.

The document is 337 pages on google docs, LOL. 

Here’s the first ever set of notes I had. I wrote this on March 29, 2020, directly after typing out the Prologue! 

Like I said, absolute chaos. The third Simon bullet point originally said something like “also I’m a superhero and only Penny knows,” then the following day I changed it to “but he’s so handsome? what do???” 

I didn’t publish the prologue until writing 5-6 additional chapters, but I think the only major change was going from Baz being “The Vampire” to just “Vampire.”

Chapter 1 was originally called “not a bloody avenger” before I decided to do the rhyming thing. I actually decided that because I wrote “counter spray and earl grey” down for chapter 2, unintentionally rhyming it, and then @ashspren-writes was like, “you should make them all rhyme”... so I did. 😂 For 25 more chapters.

I have a section labeled “quickie backgrounds” in which I finally sat down halfway through writing Chapter 2 (the blade/vamp fight) and said to myself, okay, maybe they should have backstories or something. Or like, reasons for being the hero and villain. Right, yeah, those would be good to make this into a coherent story. In the first version of that, Simon was a sports coach on the side, not a baker, and Baz was an English teacher. LOL. 

Once I had all that, I literally just wrote for four days. There’s a weird kind of magic to your first-ever fic for a fandom. All your ideas and thoughts and wishes for these characters comes to a head as you suddenly have an outlet for the first time. It’s why I think people’s first works are often their best or most creative or most profound. The first couple chapters took some time and a couple 1am epiphanies, but once I got into a rhythm it was quick going. I wrote a lot of it in a linear manner, but after writing the first Simon/Baz scene (watching the news together in the flat), I doubled back and added Simon going to Penny’s house after meeting the Mage so that I could work her in as a character earlier.

Fast forward to April 5, I had 5-ish chapters written? I thought this fic would have like... 10 total. And be less than 20k. Haha. Ha. I asked @ashspren-writes to beta read for me - I’d been bouncing ideas off her since the beginning - and then I started brainstorming titles. 

The list actually started with that second one. It took a whole 24 hours to decide on the final title. 😂 I thought it might be too cheesy. But hey, it worked out -- now I can’t open AO3 without the damn song getting stuck in my head. 

I worked a LOT with my friend @ashspren-writes on this fic - we were friends long before fandom, and she was the only person I knew at the time who had read CO and was involved in the fandom. I didn’t even have a tumblr at this point, I interacted mostly through Instagram and AO3!

On April 6, right before I posted, I realized that if I was going to actually put this on AO3 I should probably know where the story was going. So I made sure Chapters 1-6 were complete, then I wrote one bullet point per chapter up until 12 or so -- you can read those below.

Then I texted ashspren THIS mess:

Some silly notes:

Then I have a section that says “Why do they even have roommates?” because it was a few chapters in and I hadn’t justified richboy Baz and superhero Simon... living together. Cool cool cool

I also did this cool little writing experiment I want to share. Remember that line in Fangirl that’s like—“Once Cath wrote what she thought was a swordfight, and Wren turned it into a love scene.” (Or maybe it was the other way around? LOL.) Anyway, there’s swordfights in this, AND love scenes, so I wanted to do a play on that for two alternate ways Simon might figure it out.

I have a huge Deleted Section in which I wrote an alternate version of Simon and Baz finding out about their secret identities. I have one version where Baz figures it out first—it’s a very tropey yet angsty scene where Simon comes home totally wrecked from a fight, and Baz realizes as he’s helping with the wounds that he caused them. I actually like it a lot, but it ended up not quite fitting with the vibe of the fic (and I rather like them finding out through kissing better). :) I also had an idea where Simon figures it out because Vampire smells like cedar and bergamot, but it really just wasn’t interesting enough. 😂

Now onto... Outlines. 

I say that hesitantly because I think these are literally a disgrace to outlines everywhere. These are the baby ones I wrote on April 6 right before posting. Some are more detailed than others, clearly...

Gotta live up to my username somehow. 

We do love to see it. ​

I love this next one: 😂 CHAOS, SCONEY.

THEN, I wrote this as a very long text to ashspren, when I realized no sconey, this is not going to be under 20k words. LOL. 

And then I did A Dumb Thing and I put it on AO3, having absolutely NO CLUE WHERE THE STORY WAS GOING. 😂 

This is my favorite heading on the document.

Another one of my favorite notes in there.

This next part wasn’t even divided into chapters yet, it’s just a word vomit. I’m so sorry you have to read this mess.

Hahaha, once upon a time there was angst in this story. 😂 

And then I realized my true calling: bakery fluff.

Then and only then, I actually decided to divide into those things called Chapters. This is the point where I made the admission to mr scone (boyfriend, not husband lol, we just call him that) that I write gay fanfiction, whoops, and can he please help me because he’s a HUGE DC comics fan and knows everything. And of course, he was super chill about it, and he did. He really did. He’s the genius behind Egghead!!! And also the entire Mage-Humdrum-Supercomputer/Politics plot. I’m serious. I did none of that.

I can’t even say I’m trying anymore. “Flort”??? I AM LITERALLY NOT TRYING.

Why yes sconey, so very specific. 😂 

This is what qualifies as a “good” outline for me, that heading was just for my betas. Isn’t it fabulous to see that some of this actually made it in and I’m capable of planning in advance? 😂 

Get ready for the shock of your life, though -- I actually have a SUUUUPER detailed outline for the two finale chapters. Because, well, it’s the finale. Wrapping up loose ends does actually require planning, WHO KNEW. Also I’d been writing and posting for a couple months at this point and it had been several more weeks in quarantine so maybe I’d regained some sense of reality? It’s like two pages but still shittily written, so I’ll just share a couple tidibits.

That bullet point is extraordinarily cracky BUT actually, Baz shooting up from the cloud like an awesome fucking hot dramatic person was one of the very first scenes I envisioned for this fic :D 

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my writing brain! It’s a terrifying place. I love all of you that say Holding Out For a Hero is a well-crafted masterpiece, but respectfully, no ❤️ 

(Though I swear I AM super, super happy with how it turned out - it’s still my favorite thing I’ve ever written. Read it here!!!)

[voidofwords]

hopelessly devoted

here’s a short wlw story i wrote! ngl i came up with everything, including the characters, as i went, but i ended up pretty happy with it!

Her grin is so bright when she looks at me. “Syd,” she says, beaming. “You won’t believe it!”

He said yes. I smile at her and tell the sinking feeling in my stomach to fuck off. “What?” I ask, with as much excitement as I can muster. 

Jasmine turns her phone screen towards me so I can see the messages between her and Brandon, but she’s waving the phone around excitedly and it’s impossible to even get a glimpse of what the messages say. Fortunately for me, and I would like my sarcasm here to be noted, she is kind enough to also tell me the news herself:

“He said yes!” She squeals, grabbing me by the arm and shaking my whole body. “Brandon said yes to go on a date with me! I’m going on a date with Brandon.”

For a moment, my brain is so fixated on the fact that Jasmine is touching my arm, it forgets how to do anything else. But I manage to kick it back into action and plaster on my most convincing I’m-so-happy-for-you-and-not-at-all-screaming-inside smile. “Jas, that’s great! That’s amazing!”

She nods eagerly, her deep brown eyes looking into mine. “You have to help me prepare for the date. I don’t even know what to wear!”

That actually makes me grin for real. “Come on, Jas, we both know you have way better style than me.”

She giggles and shakes her head. “Shut up, I love your whole, like, tomboy thing. Your style is amazing. But I just meant I want you there for emotional support.”

“Oh. Right.” Did Jasmine just tell me she loves my style? I am fighting so fucking hard to keep my brain from going into overdrive. I try to smile, but I think it’s more of a grimace. “Of course I’ll be there,” I tell her. “That’s what friends are for.” 

-

I don’t want to move. I don't want to get up. The alarm on my phone went off five minutes ago to let me know it was time to go to Jasmine’s house, but I think I might just lie here forever. What’s the point? She probably won’t even care if I come. She’ll be too fixated on her date with Brandon later to even notice if I’m there or not. 

Brandon is popular and has abs and is apparently super hot and charming - I don’t get it, but sure - and I’m just Syd, the tragic gay idiot, in love with my best friend. If this was a movie, Jasmine would be the main character. Of course she would. And I’d be the edgy queer-coded friend who’s mostly there for comic relief and emotional support. My life is a fucking joke. 

Because I might as well give the merciless gods watching my tragedy unfold something to laugh about, and because I’d be an asshole if I stood up my best friend right before her big date, I get up. There’s no point wallowing in my self-pity any more than necessary. 

Jasmine’s arms are around me the second she opens the door. It’s a signature Jasmine hug, tight and squeezy and enthusiastic, the kind that leaves me out of breath for more than one reason. 

“Syd! I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come.” She takes a step back and looks at me with her puppy-like eyes and I ask myself how the hell I’m going to get through today.

I shoot her what I hope looks like an apologetic smile. “Sorry. But I’m here!” I take in her worn-in sweatpants and oversized Mickey Mouse t-shirt. She still looks fucking amazing - this girl could literally wear anything and still look like a goddess - but I highly doubt this is what she’s planning on wearing for her date with Brandon. 

“I take it you haven’t found out what to wear yet,” I say. “Or is the date more of a Disney-themed pyjama party?” 

That makes her laugh. “No you silly goose! Brandon is taking me to dinner, and then to see a movie.” She takes my hand, and I freeze up as she pulls me inside the house and toward her room. “I need your input on what to wear.”

“You’d probably be better off without it, you know.” I smile as I imagine Brandon’s face if Jasmine showed up to their date in my battered jeans and too-big flannel. But I quickly chase the image away, because the thought of Jasmine wearing my clothes is too much to handle right now. 

Jasmine picks up two dresses from her bed and holds them both out to me. “Which one do you like the best?”

I have seen her in both of them before, but they’re usually what she wears around her older conservative family members, not when she is out having fun. Both of them are very modest, while still being pretty. 

“What happened to the other ones?” I ask, because I know her favourite dress is either the sleeveless floral one or the cute flowy one. 

Jasmine shrugs and smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Brandon texted me saying he doesn’t want me wearing anything too revealing, since we’ll be out in public.” 

What the fuck. “Brandon is telling you what to wear?” 

“No. He’s just giving me some pointers on what not to wear!”

I stare at Jasmine, who is still smiling like she actually thinks this is fine. “Jasmine, that’s still shitty behavior. He doesn’t have the right to do that!” 

She shrugs again. “It’s fine. I don’t mind! It narrows down my choices, and you know it’s hard for me to decide what to wear. Besides, I like these dresses too!” 

“Jas.” I sigh. “Are you sure you wanna go out with this guy?”

Jasmine laughs, as if in disbelief. “What? Of course I do! It’s Brandon.” 

“I just…” I’m definitely overstepping here, but I can’t stop myself. “I don’t get what you see in him.” 

“Oh, well, you know. He’s handsome and funny and… popular and…” She trails off for a second before looking up at me. For once she isn’t smiling. “I just like him, okay? I’m sorry your standards are so impossibly high. I’ve never even seen you express interest in a guy!” 

Is she kidding me right now? “I don’t…” Now it’s my turn to be speechless. 

Jasmine sighs, like she is giving up on me, and picks up one of the dresses again. “I’ll just go with this one.”

I’m worried she will change in front of me like we did when we were younger, but she goes to the bathroom to change. Thank fuck; there’s only so much I can handle in one day. 

When she comes back out, her brilliant smile is back. Her eyes look a little red, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s because she has been crying. I open my mouth to say something but before I can, she spins around to show off her dress. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s nice.” It is nice, of course it is, that’s not the problem. The problem is, it isn’t the kind of thing I know Jasmine likes to wear. But this time, I don’t say anything.

She grabs a box of her nicest makeup stuff and sits on the bed. “Will you help me with my makeup?”

“You want my help with your makeup?” I let out a laugh. “Jas.” I know how to do makeup decently, but I never wear it, so I don’t have anything close to the kind of practice she has. 

“Syd.” She laughs too. “It’ll be fun! Just like old times!”

That is true. When we were kids, Jasmine used to “borrow” her mom’s makeup, and we would take turns making each other look “beautiful”. It was a disaster, but the best kind. 

“Alright,” I say. “But I hope Brandon won’t be upset when you show up to the date with lipstick smeared across your face like a clown.” 

I sit down on the bed with her and help her pick out what I think would look good with her dress. 

It goes smoothly, until I have to do her eyeliner.

“This is a bit tricky,” I say, moving closer. “Please don’t be mad if I do a bad job.”

“I’m sure you’re doing a great job, Syd.” She smiles with her eyes still closed. 

“Stop talking, I’m trying to concentrate.” 

By some miracle, I manage to make it look good and symmetrical. I’m actually kind of proud of myself. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

But I’m not prepared for when she actually does, and I realize how little space there suddenly is between us. 

Our faces are so close I can smell her minty breath. Her eyes are locked with mine, and I have officially forgotten how to breathe. I think time might have stopped, just for us. And then, she fucking looks at my lips. There’s no mistaking it. She is looking right at my lips, with her own slightly parted. 

And that’s when I make the stupid, idiotic, wonderful mistake of kissing her. Fucking hell, it may be a mistake but it’s the best one I’ve ever made. Her lips are so, so soft. Holy shit. Is this how I die? Am I actually going to die kissing Jasmine? I think I’m okay with that. I think that is how I want to go. 

But before I even have time to register what a bad idea this is, she breaks the kiss and moves away from me on the bed. She is staring at me with a mix of shock and betrayal. Well, shit. She reaches up to touch her lips, like she can’t quite believe they were actually touching mine just a moment before. “Why would you do that?” she whispers, her brown eyes as puppy-like as ever. Though this time, it’s more like a puppy that has been kicked by its owner. 

“I… I don’t know,” I choke out. “Fuck. Jasmine-”

She shakes her head and stands up abruptly. “I have to go.” Her voice is shaky. “My date is waiting.” 

-

Fuck this shit. Fuck the universe and fuck Brandon and most of all, fuck me and my lack of impulse control.

I have successfully ruined everything. Yay. Not only have i completely screwed up my relationship with my only real friend, I have also probably ruined her date with the guy she likes.

At this point, all I can do about it is go outside and touch some grass. There is an old park in our neighborhood that no one visits anymore, and it’s the perfect place if you want to be alone with your misery and self-loathing. I guess you could say I come here often. 

I sit down against the trunk of a tree and look up at the sky. It’s cloudy, but the kind of cloudy where the clouds look like bunnies and hearts and shit. I guess looking at clouds is a better use of my time than replaying the events of today over and over and hating myself more with every passing second. 

I don’t even know how much time passes but suddenly, I feel another person close to me. I start, convinced I’m about to be murdered or kidnapped, but when I turn, I see Jasmine. 

She sits down next to me and offers me a shaky smile. This time she definitely has been crying. She kinda still is. 

I don’t know whether I should say something, so I just sit there and look at her. She looks down at her own hands, and doesn’t speak for a long time. I’m about to open my own cursed mouth, when she finally speaks. 

“I’m so sorry, Syd.”

I stare at her, my brain not computing. “You’re sorry? What the hell do you have to be sorry for?”

“I was a total… a total dingus earlier!” If I didn’t feel so fucked right now, I would have smiled at Jasmine’s adorable inability to swear, maybe even gently teased her about it. But I don’t. I sit quietly as she continues: “I have been for years, haven’t I? Completely clueless.”

“What?” I don’t know what she is on about, but if she means clueless about my embarrassing crush on her, then yes, she has been. I can’t blame her, though. I mean, I did try to hide it, and for good reason. 

“I left the date with Brandon early.”

I feel like an ass for it, but I’m happy to hear that. Not because I’m naive enough to think it means anything for me, but because Brandon is such a punchable fucking idiot, and definitely not good enough for Jasmine. “Oh,” is what I say. “Did you not have a good time?”

She finally looks at me. “I left because of you, Syd.” 

Fuck. “Jasmine, I’m so fucking sorry. I never should’ve-”

“Stop,” she says, and I do. “I left because I realized you were right. I don’t like Brandon.” She lets out a shaky laugh. Her eyes are brimming with tears. “It probably shouldn’t have taken you kissing me to realize it, but… Yeah, well, I’m an idiot.”

My heart and brain seem to have made a collective decision to stop functioning. I stare at her, not sure if any of this is really happening. Maybe I’m misinterpreting what she is saying. Yeah, that seems like the only logical-

My half-panicked thoughts are cut off by Jasmine leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. She is still teary-eyed, but she is also smiling softly as she moves close enough that our shoulders are touching. “I don’t think I even like guys at all,” she whispers. “And… well. I’m pretty sure I like you. A lot.”

She is looking at me expectantly, but I am stunned into silence. My brain short-circuited long ago and left me useless and unable to do anything other than stare at her in disbelief. 

“Syd.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “Please say something, I am freaking out over here!”

“Shit. Yeah. Sorry.” I shake my head, slowly kicking myself back into action. “I like you a lot too. But I probably made that pretty obvious earlier, didn’t I?” I chuckle nervously, meeting her eyes. My heart is still going haywire, has been since she fucking kissed me. I don’t think I’ve fully processed that yet. “Sorry, this is… a lot.”

Jasmine grins. “Yeah, tell me about it. Twelve hours ago I thought I was the straightest person ever and that I liked Brandon? And now it turns out I’ve been a lesbian the whole time! God, that feels weird to say, but… Also like such a relief? Like part of me has known for way longer.” 

I almost don’t have the courage to do it, but I reach out and take her hand. Our fingers interlock. When she puts her head on my shoulder, I almost start to tense up, out of habit I guess, but I tell myself to relax. 

The moment feels so precious, so uniquely ours, that I’m afraid I’ll ruin it if I speak. So I close my eyes and savour the way Jasmine’s soft body is pressed against mine, and I pray that this moment never ends. 

[chibinoyume]

Creator meme

Thank you @indelibleevidence for the tag!

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works <3

--

This made me realize once again how much Fandom helped me through the pandemic for a few months - browsing through my own tags there’s so much stuff I’d completely forgotten about!

1) “Jane Doe” - a 3 part comic series (especially the first one)

Post 5x10, where Jane has lost her memories because of the ZIP, and slowly bonds again with Kurt and the team. Originally it was meant to be a 4 to 5 part comic series, but I needed to get it done before the finale aired, and I ran out of time. Since I have the lines written down somewhere, I may write it as a fic at some point, albeit a very minimalist one (and it would count as canon divergent post 5x10), because it was meant to be a comic script.

Still, the first part of this comic took SO LONG and while I can still pick at things I could have done better, I’m proud of it anyway, especially because my specialty are chibi-like drawings. Cute is my cup of tea, serious is haaaard. 

2) “Ever After” - a bittersweet Jeller oneshot.

Technically there is a second chapter to this, but reads more as an epilogue, so this could be read as a standalone (and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to finishing that 2nd chapter! I’ll try, though).

I mostly wrote it for myself as a fix-it fic (sort of) after the series finale. While I stubbornly will stay in happy-ending camp, sometimes when I saw images of the sad-ending, that feeling of dread filled my gut. I had some ideas in my head to narratively justify what happened, including the odd dinner scene, so I rushed to write it out while the Muse kicked and screamed at me to do so.

So in the fic, it starts as Jane collapses to the ground, but not everything is rosy and magically fixed. Both Jane and Kurt have to deal with the aftermath of what happened, and be there for each other as they learn their new normal and start healing from it, in the way supportive partners do ♥

3) Nightmares - a hurt/comfort Jeller fanart.

Post 4x12, this is how I’d imagine things may go, at least sometimes. Jane almost died (again), and even though she is now fine, has her memories and is no longer poisoned, losing her is still Kurt’s biggest fear, and he has nightmares about it in the following days or weeks. Not all the time, but when they show, it hits hard. She’d always try to reassure him as best she can, whispering words of comfort as he mumbles incoherently and apologizes for what could have been.

While some details about it still bug me (why am I like this) I still like this drawing a lot. One of the many scenes of Jeller in bed that are in my headcanon, if only finding good references for Jane’s tattoos (other than her arms) wasn’t such a hassle, I swear I’d have done so many more.

4) Honest screencaps: one & two (I couldn’t choose) 

I just had to lol when I was rewatching season 1 earlier in the year and screencapping things for drawing reference and because of reasons, some facial expressions where just too good not to caption. The ridiculous lines worked even better as a screencap-comic rather than an actual comic, imo.

It’s so much fun.

5) Too tired for subtlety - a silly Jeller comic.

Early season 5, Kurt is still very much a workaholic, even in the bunker. But this time, Jane is not having it. Mwahaha. 

It took a while to find photos of the relevant tattoos, and even then I had to BS a good bunch of them because the images were too blurry to tell xD. I swear if they released an artbook I’d buy it in a second. They could use the same pictures they had in SIOC where Jane was standing up with all her tats, they blur out the necessary bits and have a map of ALL the tattoos, dammit! 

How am I supposed to draw Summer Jeller when drawing Jane in a bathing suit is gonna take 5 hours just to find references D:?

Bonus) :D this ridiculous video (feat Rich’s rescue)

Basically, expectations vs reality.

This tiny video took way more than I’d like to admit lol and it still looks so choppy. But it’s part of the charm, right? lol Even so, the idea wouldn’t leave me alone and I had to do it. And I feel honored and proud that Ennis saw it on instagram xD

***

Hmmm, trying to tag people Amy hasn’t tagged yet! @marv-el-spot @birdsaesthetic @mchellesvanity @whatshouldjustbeours @singinprincess 

Anyone else, feel free to do it! So much fun.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Intro to Balancing Your Life || Morgan & Sasha

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @sasha-r-blog & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Sasha drops in on a new class on campus; Morgan is only too happy to offer encouragements.

“…And who is it that determines the definition of humanity? What kind of definitions do we see offered by Victor, or Henry Cleveral, or the Creature?” Morgan asked the class. The students, while not thrilled with some of Mary Shelley’s ‘big words’ had enough preparation to offer semi thoughtful ideas. Obviously, Victor thought he could define what human means. One of her try-hard students, eager to please every adult in sight, posited that while Victor’s definition of humanity is the one that dominates the narrative, the intrusion of the creature’s perspective halfway through the book is meant to compel the reader into questioning its validity. “Yes!” Morgan tossed the kid a candy from her bowl. “The midpoint crisis here upends our expectations through thought, rather than action. It is, structurally, the center, the heart of the story, changing what we believe to be true. But, are we convinced by the Creature’s definition of his humanity? Why or why no–”

Morgan’s timer, the theme song of The X-Files, went off.

“Shit. Alright, that’s time everybody! Do your homework, do your reading, and get ready for Fan-Fiction Friday! And you–” She pointed to the newcomer sandwiched at the corner of the seminar table. “Come see me for a minute. The rest of you: glad you love each other, but please get out.” As the room cleared out she began to gather up her things. “I’ll level with you, I haven’t checked my roster, so I’m not sure if you’re a late add or just checking things out. But either way, I might be able to answer any questions you have better one-on-one instead of just looking at you across the room.”

Sasha watched the other students mingle and leave, a second of nervousness keeping her in her seat before the professor called out to her. It was hard to parse the tone in Professor Beck’s voice when Sasha’s immediate assumption at a teacher saying to “see me” was that she had fuck up somehow. But either way, Sasha walked towards the desk, dodging any curious looks from her exiting classmates.

“Um, hi. Sorry I didn’t mean to cause any trouble by sitting in.” She shifted the straps of her backpack, tugging them against her shoulders, as if the weight would somehow shield her from the awkwardness. “I’m Sasha Rodriguez. You gave me your office hours awhile ago. I uh, didn’t get a chance to visit but I saw your name on the winter session course list  and thought I’d check it out. I’m trying to branch out I guess.”

It took Morgan a few minutes to place the girl. She didn’t give out her school contact information to everyone, but it happened often enough that she had more than one name floating around her head. But the more she looked at her, the nervousness, the eagerness, the closer Morgan got to a hunch. “Oh, you’re the girl trying to figure everything out in college. I’m glad you decided to come by. If you’ve got some spare time, we can go somewhere and talk? I’d love to have you join in the spring, if you like what you’ve seen so far.” She dumped her books and laptop into her bag, and shouldered the load, handling the bulk with ease thanks to her strength. “Come on. Why don’t you start by telling me what you’re branching out from and what you thought about class today.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Sasha said as she moved to follow the professor. She still wasn’t used to how casual some professors could be. In high school they made it sound like professors were all strict, no nonsense, and unforgiving. And Sasha had certainly had professors like that during her first semester. But here was a professor throwing candy to students and cursing in class and talking about fan fiction. It was cool, but weird to process.

“I’m in computer science and I’ve only really taken courses in that department and math stuff. Oh, and also English 101, for the gen ed.” Those classes had been a lot different from what Sasha had just sat in on. Even the one English class she took didn’t really match up, that one having been run by an exhausted looking graduate teaching assistant who didn’t seem all that interested in teaching.

“The class was cool, though I feel like a lot of the stuff you were saying went over my head.” Sasha had a moment of internal panic, worried that came off as implying Professor Beck was bad at teaching. “I’ve just never been good at looking into books, but the class was interesting. I was surprised you mentioned fanfiction at the end. I didn’t think most professors even knew what that was.” Oh no, did that sound rude too? Sasha closed her mouth before she could say something dumb. Besides her advisor, if you could even count their meetings as conversation, and Ben, Sasha hadn’t really spoken one on one with a professor before. It still felt a bit surreal.

“Oh, that’s just because you’re coming in at the tail end of the course. I don’t throw my students into the deep end before I’m certain they can at least, you know, doggie paddle.” Morgan smiled good naturedly and lead them up to the main sitting area in the English building, setting her bag down carefully and making herself comfortable. “I can tell you that looking into books isn’t so different from the way you look into the stories in other media. Movies, TV, video games, comic books--our relationship to the stories we engage with say so much about what we envision for ourselves and the world. The more we understand and invest that relationship, the more empowered we feel to take control of our fate.” Morgan stopped herself from saying anything more and laughed, low and self deprecating. “Oh, jeez, don’t tell the other professors I said that. But, anyways, yes, the aforementioned reasons are what fan-fiction and other forms of counter-storytelling are so important. But more important than that is doing something that’s going to challenge you in positive, enjoyable ways. And making time for a little fun.” Morgan held her fingers up, like this much. “Can I ask how the rest of college is going for you, Sasha?”

Sasha followed her and sat in the unfamiliar sitting room. She gave a small smile as Professor Beck talked about stories and how people related to them, finding that she had been nodding along without realizing. She stopped once she did, somehow worried that it came off as over eager, as if a professor would ever get mad at someone being interested in what they were saying. If only the professor knew how close that hit to home for her. All those stories of kids getting superpowers, it was real. As if it had jumped straight off the page. As if Sasha had willed it into being. In the back of her mind Sasha wondered how she would have reacted to suddenly growing calls if she hadn’t grown up on comics and superhero movies. It felt like the blueprint to everything now.

Lost in her own thoughts she was a bit startled when the professor’s tone shifted. “No, no I agree, I think. I think all that stuff is important. Storytelling. I mean, I’m not much of a reader but comics and games and movies have been really important to me.” She wished there was a major in that stuff. Or crime fighting. She’d be on the dean’s list if her nightly patrols counted for credits.

“It’s been going okay. I mean, I don’t really do much outside of classes. I’ve been trying to do more but I mostly keep to myself.” It was the same thing she had told her advisor and Professor Campbell, but more and more Sasha felt silly for saying it. It wasn’t like she did nothing, just nothing related to college life. But it wasn’t like she could tell her professors she was protecting White Crest. Or at least trying to.

Morgan noticed Sasha’s interest and perked up at once. “You know, we do cover films in my class,” she said, grinning slyly. “And books. But still. It’s the same kind of thought process as with books, so it might as well be given its time and place. There’s plenty of other courses like that in this department, even a film and media studies minor. You should do what makes you happy, because undergrad coursework doesn’t matter half as much as you think it does. It’s all internships and jobs and connections and recommendations that help you get anywhere. And this place, college, has a lot of flaws and problems, but one of the best ways to make it worth it is leave knowing as much as you can about the things that matter to you most.” But that was about all the pitching she was willing to do on behalf of her class. Besides, being a student at UMWC came second to being a kid in White Crest. Morgan couldn’t help but look at the girl and wonder what this place would do to her. Morgan pushed the thought away, she couldn’t let herself focus on a big, bad future like it was some kind of unstoppable force.

“This might sound silly, coming from a professor who just tried to recruit you to their class, but I hope you do find other things besides school studies. There’s a much bigger world out there, and you should have something else in your life. At least friends and playing video games or going to Al’s at one in the morning or whatever kids your age do now. Life is for doing stuff, you know? Whatever it is you’re thinking about doing or joining, you should go for it!”

“I never really thought about taking a minor. I didn’t know they had one about film.” Honestly, more and more Sasha felt like she hadn’t planned much of anything when it came to school. Or life in general. But she supposed she could change that. If anything this talk had made her actually interested in looking into classes, something she had mostly breezed through doing in the past, simply checking off the boxes of what she needed for her degree. But if the professor was right and it didn’t matter that much... “Maybe I’ll try looking into classes for film and english and stuff like that. They seem fun. At least the stuff you were talking about seems fun.”

Maybe it would make school more interesting, instead of something Sasha went through the motions of to get to her real job. “Real job,” as being a superhero paid. As if she wouldn’t one day need a day job. College was a convenient way to pass the time and something she was told she had to do, but it would be nice to actually care about it, to feel like she was actually doing something.

“I do have hobbies...” Just none she could tell Professor Beck about. “But yeah, I should probably try to do more. I wanted to check out the library. I was supposed to help out with the comic collection there as a volunteer thing. So that’s a start I guess.” It had almost slipped her mind, but that was something she had been genuinely excited for. It was just hard to remember stuff like that during the day when she was normally up all night. Her nightly patrols had turned her days sluggish and uneventful, filled with quick naps between class and maybe some video games alone in her dorm before she put on her costume and went out again. And she loved doing it, of course she loved going out at night to keep White Crest safe. But at the same time...

“Do you ever just get really focused on one thing?” Sasha asked the question before she was thought about it, but decided to keep going, even if it was dumb. “Like, you have something you like or is important and you just focus on that and everything else just kinda blurs into the background?”  Sasha rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. “I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess sometimes I feel like that. But I don’t know if I want to change it.”

“The library is a great start!” Morgan said. “You’re going to learn so much, and probably find people who have similar interests to you when they come to check out materials. But I hope you do other stuff, not for credit, just for you. You’re only going to be young once--” Hopefully.

She couldn’t help but smile at Sasha’s notion, that hyper-focus was something rare or embarrassing. “Oh, all the time. I have some art projects that I do on the side, and I can get so lost in my carving that hours can pass by so easily. Same with baking, or cooking something really involved. It’s almost like you’re connecting to something else, outside of or beyond you. There’s you, the thing you’re doing, and this energy it gives you, right?” Morgan watched the girl’s expression to see if she was getting it right. “Even if it’s just kind of like that, I don’t think you should change it. Whatever that thing is, it sounds to me like the universe is giving you the green light to keep going.”

Sasha nodded, giving a small smile. She was happy that Professor Beck seemed to get it and not think it was weird. Sure, Sasha's focus wasn’t on crafts or cooking, but it was the thought that counted. Her mind lingered on what she said about being given a green light. Really, what was a bigger green light than getting her powers? But she knew there was more to it than that. There had to be a reason it was her. She had to be able to do something with her powers, something to really help people. It was comforting to have the professor say she was right, that the universe wanted her to do what she was already doing, but there was a pang of melancholy knowing Sasha couldn’t tell her, or anyone, the truth. How much did advice and validation matter when the person saying it didn’t know the full truth?

She shook the thought from her head. “Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask you a bunch of weird questions when I came to sit in. I think it would be cool to try out one of your classes though if you still have room for students.” Sasha chased away the worry of struggling in a class she wasn’t used to. If worst came to worst she could always drop that class. At least it would be something new, something she might actually end up liking.

Beaming and unawares, Morgan took out a post-it from her bag and scribbled out the class information before handing it to Sasha. “Don’t be embarrassed about questions,” she said. “Questions are how we learn. You’re never going to find anything interesting if you always leave well enough alone.” She stood up, getting the vibe that Sasha had opened up all she felt like so far. “I hope to see a lot more of you this coming semester,” she said. “Hoping even more that you do something just for you, but.” She put a finger to her lips. That’ll just be our secret.

“Thanks. I’ll try to keep asking them.” Well that was one social interaction that didn’t go horribly. Wasn’t great that Sasha considered that a victory for herself but she was going to take the feeling of accomplishment anyways. “And I’ll try to do stuff for myself too.” That was going to take more work than just registering for a class, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst. She couldn’t promise herself she would put in the effort though. Tucking the post-it note into her backpack she smiled and said goodbye to Professor Beck. Maybe a few new classes would be enough to make her college life, and her daily life, seem a bit more exciting and a bit less like time to just get through. But her patrolling White Crest at night was still more important. Professor Beck didn’t have to know that part though.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 5: Why I love One Piece and my final verdict

(Warning. Post contains initial geek out about One Piece that is meant to correlate to my opinion on Alex in general)

When I started this series of posts, one thing I asked myself was, how could I sum up my problems with the Sam story while also tackling some general issues with AzP without redundantly repeating major points of my previous posts.

… So I decided instead of giving a straight answer, I would first tell you how I came to fall in love with One Piece.

Around 14+ years ago, I began reading manga, with works such as Ranma 1/2, Pokemon and Dragon Ball being my starting point. You know, the average stuff everyone had read at some point. One Piece, already back then consisting of over 25+ volumes,  was only something a friend started to lend me and I read the first seven volumes, not really quite getting why it was that popular. I did not hate what I read, but there was nothing outright standing out to me the way the story was told that got to me. And then I hit the Arlong arc with volume 8 and onwards. While it was mostly the adventure of Luffy with his crew against Crocodile and his Baroque Corporation that totally sold me on the manga later on, the Arlong arc was what really got my attention. Seeing the character of Nami betray her friends, pieces of worldbuilding that would years later play a role and so much more, made me curious where things were going. Particularly, why Nami would betray Luffy. And when I reached chapter 77 to 81, where I got to read Nami’s backstory, how Arlong killed her adoptive mother in front of her eyes when she was just a little kid and Luffy declaring he was going to help her and her village, I was hooked. This was the first time in my life as a manga reader, I was not just entertained, I was emotionally invested. Because not only was Nami’s backstory genuinely saddening to me, but seeing Luffy determined to help her and the ensuing battles was exciting. Exciting because it truly showed to me, how awesome of a character this goofball with stretching powers really is. Not because he was physically strong, but because he was willing to do all of that for someone just “because” he considers that person a friend. Seeing Luffy not just beat up Arlong, but destroying everything this bastard had build on the suffering of the village and in doing so setting Nami free of the past that haunted her, because he cared for her as a person not in a romantic but platonic manner, was satisfying on so many levels.

 And ever since then Eiichiro Oda proved to me time and time again, even if he hits a bump in the road (seriously, fuck most of the Fishmen Island arc) he knows how to write a world that doesn’t just manage to be cartoonishly entertaining, but also filled with heartfelt moments, where true heroism is not defined just by physical strength, but the willingness of the main characters to help and care for each other and the people they meet across the journey. There are many stories out there where the power of friendship as a virtue, and the virtues it is build on are a theme. But in the world of shonen manga, One Piece for me is still the top.

 And Andrew Dobson’s Alex ze Pirate is the complete antithesis to everything Oda EVER created in One Piece.

 While One Piece has one of the most complex worlds I have ever seen in fiction, with Oda often times setting building stones for future story arcs years in advance (seriously, the thing with Brook and Laboon alone is worth mentioning) , Dobson can’t even bother to properly tell us in what part of the ocean Alex has her adventure or why there is a beaver dog thing walking around a bunch of humans.

 While One Piece has some gorgeous artwork and unique designs with an insane level of cartoonish detail, Dobson has some very generic designs and draws like a 15 year old girl that read Spirou and manga too much and now starts doing scribble artwork.

 While Oda draws chapters for over 20 years now, Dobson could not even bother to finish up the adventure of the crew getting properly together back in 2004, as only one volume was released.

 While One piece tells a story that defines the shonen genre for over a decade, Dobson tells stupid newspaper strip jokes that are not even interconnected much.

 While Oda’s Strawhats are the embodiment of the word nakama, Dobson’s characters only bring the following old saying to mind:

 With friends like this, who needs enemies?

 Bottom line, Alex ze Pirate is absolute garbage as a work of entertainment, particularly in the world of kids entertainment. It was so already long before Dobson wrote the three part story I reviewed in detail, but this story in my opinion was for anyone with a bit of brains the last nail in the coffin. Cause overall, this was likely Dobson’s last chance in his and the eyes of the readers.

 The last chance, because he was going to put all his talent as a writer and artist into this one story to prove his critics wrong; That he could tell an engaging and emotionally fulfilling story in a multi part story, longer than his 15 pagers. But like with everything else I have seen so far, he failed.

 He failed artistically, because damn does this not look even remotely professional compared to other professionally published work or even other silly webcomics like Cludscratcher or Housepets (which I highly recommend you to read).

 He failed as a storywriter, because instead of emotionally engaging and well paced, this shit is rushed, works more on “tell, don’t show” than anything else and really just magnifies the worst aspects of his characters and Dobson’s mean spirited humor in general. Cause this is not a tale where we feel like Sam genuinely has found a family and friends in Alex and her crew. It is the tale of Sam just accepting that he has nothing better going on in his life.

 He failed, because instead of actually putting care, effort and love for his characters and work into this, he likely just wanted to get it out and hope that just because he “put effort” into this more than usual, he would already get praise by default.

 And once this thing was out, all that happened was the following: Even more people realized what kind of hack he is, that this project was not going to be salvaged even if actual stories instead of strip based jokes are told and he misinterpreted the disinterest as reason to just completely give up, instead of trying harder.

 And as a result, even if Dobson still went on to do shitty redesigns and a few more pages for it, Alex ze Pirate soon after ended. Put into everlasting hiatus, where it joins such work as Pilote Candidate or Frank Millers All Star Batman and Robin.

 Dobson, if you ever read this, let me just say it how it is: You failing to make even the most basic story about people appreciating their friends, particularly when within the last decade there has been an entire fandom of manchildren out there that was build on a show with “Friendship is Magic” in the title, just shows how bad of a storyteller and creator you are. You shouldn’t have gone to college in order to become an animator, you should have joined fanfiction.net in order to get some basic understanding on how to even write. Cause your writing is so bad, it makes fanfiction look genuinely complex and thoughtful. Well that and you should perhaps go out and find genuinely friends and not just online supporters that mistake you for some persecuted innocent artist, when in reality you are just a toxic idiot who attempts to manipulate people so he can profit of them and their fleeting interest in his substandard comics based on the lowest common denominator cartoons.

 I wrap this review up. We will revisit Alex one day again, but for now, I just want to focus on something more positive. So within the next weeks, if I post something, I will try to make it focused on something NOT Dobson related. You know, stuff to genuinely enjoy. Till then, I just want to say thank you. Thank you @hypocricyofandrewdobson for reblogging my entries. Thank you to everyone who liked this, reblogged this or started to follow me because of it. I hope I managed to educate and entertain you all in a positive manner, without making myself come off too much like an assholish nerd with too many interests. Stay safe.

 And hey, if any of you has his own two cents on Sam, Alex or the others, even ideas how to make them genuinely better, I am always open.

 See ya.

[camomills]

Title: Old Souls Relationships: Sinon/Lisbeth; Sinon & Agil Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 1767 Summary: Sinon realizes she is allowing others to become closer to her, and that scares her. A conversation with an older friend might help assuage her fears. Notes: Made for SAO Pride Week 2020 - Day 1: Small Steps. This is a reworked draft from last year's SAO Pride Week that I turned into some Sinon/Lisbeth, mostly Sinon-centric. I also just really wanted to do something with Agil because I think he's a fun character, and I personally think his wise demeanor makes him a nice character to bounce off the younger cast.Thanks to redbluezero for beta reading!

AO3 Link

-

The smell of coffee has always been one of Shino’s favorites. It reminds her of rainy days spent in the company of a book in her favorite bookshop, staring mindlessly at the steam as she waited until her drink cooled. It’s no wonder Dicey Café became one of her dearest places.

“Here’s your order!”

The company might have something to do with it, too.

“This one’s on the house,” Rika declares as she sets the cup on the counter, then winks.

From behind her, she hears someone clear their throat.

She slowly turns to meet Agil’s gaze, and sure enough, he’s scowling at her. The grip on the glass he’s drying has turned vice-like.

“That one’s on your salary.”

“Agil, c’mon! Let me be cool!”

They bicker for a short minute, Rika being cheeky whereas Agil is composed. The tone of the discussion is more akin to foolish banter between friends than a squabble between a boss and his employee, so Shino allows herself to laugh at it. 

Rika’s shift soon ends and she heads to the ladies’ room to change. As per usual these days, Shino waits for her so they can keep company to one another on the train ride back home. 

*

Yesterday’s commute was much like any other.

The train car shook and rattled against the steel and gravel tracks as the whirls of metal and the passengers’ chatter filled the compartment. The two girls partook in idle chatter, holding onto the same metal pole to keep their balance inside the box car. Shino’s proximity to Rika allowed the girl to filter the blacksmith’s words through the fog of sound.

Shino’s hands scraped against Rika’s on each stop. 

“So, so,” Rika continued telling excitedly, “he destroyed the best sword in my shop! My masterpiece, turned to smithereens.”

Shino let out a horrified gasp in jest.

“Oh, my. I lost my dear Hecate’s scope trying to help him out in BoB. I wonder if we’re liable for some sort of compensation?”

The two nodded in tandem over their two-person class-action lawsuit plans. They broke the comical act when the train stopped at the next station a bit too roughly, bumping them into each other. They couldn’t contain their chuckles at their own silliness.

“Ah, next one’s my stop,” Rika announced.

Shino knew. They’d been sharing this commute for a while. 

“I’ll be seeing you then. Until next time, Rika.”

Shino expected Rika to leave as the train doors opened, but she approached Shino instead. Rika’s arms bundled around Shino’s frame.

It’s a moment that allowed Shino to take note of a small list of Rika Things. Rika is only taller than her by a few inches, but it’s enough that it allowed her chin to rest on Rika’s shoulder slightly. The fake fur on Rika’s coat bristled against Shino’s nose, gentle and irritating— much like Rika herself, she thought. The pressure at the shorter girl’s back where Rika’s slender fingers intertwined was rough, yet fond.

A wave of warmth radiated through Shino’s body. She weakly squeezed Rika back.

“Until next time!” Rika said as she uncoiled her arms from around the other girl. 

She beamed at Shino before hopping through the train doors, waving as she exited at the station. 

That was the first time Rika had ever hugged her. 

Shino’s body wanted to feel elated, but her brain didn’t allow it; the affection in Rika’s gesture got muddled in her spiral of guilty thoughts. Since when did she allow people to get so close? 

Since when did I let myself want that?

The rest of her commute was spent staring out the cart’s window, hoping that the train’s AC would manage to cool down her emotions before long.

**

As the bathroom door slams shut, Agil rests his arms on the counter and leans against it, a hand sitting upon his bald head.

“Can you believe her? I offered her this part-time job because I knew it’d help her with college, but...” He throws his hands out, his fondness for Lis peeking through a smile fighting his scowl. “You know?”

Mm-hmm, Shino nods empathically, as she’s wont to do with Agil. The company that lures her in here, of course, includes both of the bartenders.

She had grown to care for all of her new friends, but she was caught by surprise at how much she related to Agil, of all people. He is the oldest in their merry band of players, by far, and despite that– no, because of that, they got along.

People her age, throughout most of her experience, were uncaring at best and cruel at worst. The adults around her, dry as they could be, served as the closest to good company she had growing up. There’s a bitter taste in her mouth as Shino realizes she’s grown more proficient in talking to adults due to the past cruelty of all the people her age in her life up until very recently. Thankfully, it’s easy enough to wash it down with the sweetness of the cappuccino Rika had mischievously handed her.

Agil, on the other hand, appreciates having a regular other than Asuna with whom he could default to intellectual conversation and wouldn’t call his establishment, ‘a dump’. How did Kirito manage to rope even Silica into it?

As their conversation strays away from Lisbeth’s demeanor, they fall to their more usual topics: Shino asks about how he manages to do latte art so perfectly every time and he asks if she finally reached the fourth chapter of the book he lent to her a couple of days ago. One “final” plea for him to try out Gun Gale, and his unacceptable excuse that he doesn’t have the time.

Mundane topics like that are their speed, but for once,  Shino has something less mundane in her mind. There’s something in that space, with the gentle ambiance music and the calming presence of a wiser friend, that brings her to feel that Agil is the right person, at that time, for those thoughts.

“I think I like Lis,” she professes like a secret she wished wasn’t true. It doesn’t seem to be the meat of what she has to say, judging from the way her jaw clenches.

Agil simply hums. He’d rather talk about latte art.

“Yeah, I figured. I mean, you really started coming here more often once she started working here.” 

He laughs, a wry, good-natured sound, hard to define between his fondness for the girls and his apathy for the topic.

“I mean… yes. But that’s not the point. How do I…”

 Shino gulps. Her gaze turns to the counter in front of her, where her hands lie. She fiddles with her fingers, watching as her thumbs graze each other through their rotations; staring at them without thinking about the words she’s about to say, are the only way she manages to go through it.

“I guess…  I don’t know if I remember how to be around people. Or if it’s... right, for me to be around people?”

She remembers what those hands did; the cold of steel and the heat of gunfire, the maroon of splattered blood and the gray of post office tiles.

Is it okay for a broken person like me…?

Agil would be lying if he said he’s particularly interested in involving himself in the romantic squabbles of teenagers. The other aspect of her plea, though, is something he’s unfortunately familiar with. He ponders, his face a mix of sagely and worried, as the soft thudding of her trembling hands are barely drowned out by the bar’s blues music.

“I was worried, too, back when I had to come back to my life after SAO.”

Shino raises her gaze to Agil’s eyes. 

“I mean, it's not the same thing, but… it’s hard being around people who judge you for what you went through, and trying to make connections when everyone thinks you’re screwed in the head is a pain in the ass. ‘The game where those freaks killed each other.’ ‘The murderer girl’.”

Agil knows what Shino did. Shino told all of them, eventually. 

“But everyone who spent those two years in the flying castle went through a lot of things they shouldn't have had to, and probably did some things they regret. To others. To themselves. I did, Kirito and Asuna did, and so did Rika. We talk about it…” 

His eyes turn to the ladies’ room’s door, where Rika is changing. He decides her past is not his to divulge.

“Uh. I guess all I���m trying to say is that you’re friends with people who get it, because none of us are sure it’ll ever be okay with people. So, we just stick together. I doubt Rika minds… whatever it is you're worried about? I think people like us have little besides each other.”

The last bit sticks with Shino. As she chews on the words once more, she stares at her hands. The weight they carry is impossibly heavy, but if what Agil says is true, then that means others, too, carry the same burden. 

Her trembling ceases.

He pauses. “Or something?” 

He’s not sure how much sense he is making. 

“I’m not sure how much sense I’m making.”

That gets a chuckle out of her, and that’s good enough for him.

*

Rika exits the bathroom, her former bartender-y, formal-ish ponytail from a few minutes ago undone into a mess of brown hair. Her lack of an apron reveals the cute hammer patterns on her graphic shirt.

"Are you two nerds done talking about nerd stuff?" She says, as if not just as much of one.

Agil and Shino roll their eyes.

"Yeah, we’re done with our nerd stuff."

Rika starts sliding her arm into her jacket, then turns to Shino. “Sweet. Are you ready to go then?”

Shino looks at Agil, who simply offers her a friendly wave and a knowing smile.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

*

The two girls walk off together to the train station. The empty night streets give them quiet, with little to focus on other than the sound of boots hitting pavement, the cold breeze, and each other. It’s then when, bashful yet confident, Shino tries to interlock her fingers with Rika’s.

Rika squeezes her hand in return, rough yet fond. 

As Rika wordlessly taps her fingers on Shino’s knuckles, Shino realizes that Agil was right. There’s no way that those hands, fitting so perfectly together, were meant to be apart. Perhaps such heavy hands have no other pairs but each other, and that is fine.

[clovis-enthusiast]

Little thought about The Tyrant’s Tomb. [SPOILERS!!!!]

oKAY, so I’m gonna start off by saying that, as usual, Rick Riordan’s writing style never fails to impress and draw me in to keep reading and not stop until I’ve devoured every last word. I was DESPERATE to read this book because it took me longer to get it than usual, and I was trying to go into it spoiler free (aside from reading the snippets that Uncle Rick posted on his Twitter every now and then.) I pretty much managed to do so, and it made the experience that much more emotional for me. I went into The Burning Maze KNOWING that Jason was going to die, but I had absolutely no idea what I’d be facing in this book.

Camp Jupiter

I’m just gonna flat out say it; I was never really all that interested in Camp Jupiter in the beginning. I didn’t like the majority of the characters (aside from Dakota who is my legal son) and the camp structure (though accurate to the Romans) seemed too strict and harsh to me. The ranking systems confused me, and it all in all just did not appeal to me the way Camp Half-Blood does. However, the more I read, the more attached I grew, and although I still MUCH prefer Camp Half-Blood and would choose it in a heartbeat when choosing between the two camps, it still became an interesting place to read about. I ADORE the idea of New Rome and the sharp contrast of silly demigods like the fifth cohort vs. the strict rules and upbringing of the camp.

When Jason died in The Burning Maze and the next book was set to take place surrounding Camp Jupiter, I grew excited. I REALLY wanted to meet more of the demigods of the Roman camp and explore them more (mostly Dakota but I digress.) Although I knew reading about everyone’s reactions to Jason’s death would be hard, I fought through it and was somewhat surprised by the lack of grieving that was presented. I mean, the ENTIRE first few chapters were ALL about Jason’s coffin and Lester and Meg grieving and trying their best to get it to camp but when it actually got there there really wasn’t that much of an uproar. At first I thought that was strange but looking back at it the Romans are brought up to be strong and not let emotions take over them, and people like Hazel have to show absolute strength. Besides the camp was already in mourning over DOZENS of other campers at the time.

That was another thing that sort of bugged me. I was absolutely ITCHING to meet some new characters and granted I got a few, but the majority of the ‘newer’ characters had already been killed and served only as the undead army.

THAT WAS SO FUCKED UP. It was one thing that I think Rick did a really good job with in upping the deep and darkness of the Riordanverse series. Can you imagine fighting your undead comrades and friends?? Like holy shit, that was emotional. I was super worried I spoiled something for myself on Istagram bc I read a post someone made about Jason trying to get the undead Romans to follow him instead or direct them away from camp, but I should have known it wasn’t true since he was literally burned.

Frank

Speaking of burning, I ACTUALLY thought Rick killed Frank off. Up until this book, I hadn’t really realized how much I loved this man. His character is just so well-written and likable and when he sacrificed the wood, I was like NOOOOOOOOO. I was SO grateful he came back in the end because I was sure Rick would never hear the end of THAT one if he allowed it to really happen. On the bright side, my baby boy can now enjoy his life with a little bit more vigor and less fear now that the stick is gone for good.

New Characters

Lavinia Asimov: Okay, Lavinia is a REALLLLLLLY weird character to me. She reminds me a lot of Lou Ellen to be honest, but for some reason, she doesn’t appeal to me as much as Lou Ellen does. (Maybe it’s just because I tend to prefer minor characters) Her rebelliousness seemed a little too... forced at times?? And her whole thing with the dryads and fauns was kinda weird too, but I guess since she likes Poison Ivy, it makes sense. However, she kinda did grow on me, I suppose, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more of her.

Poison Ivy: I REALLY wished we could have met her even just once. Lavinia would not shut up about her and was CONSTANTLY rebelling against the rules in camp just to see her, so I wanna know just what kind of a character she is. I’m sure she would have been very interesting and sassy to have been Lavinia’s love interest lol

Pranjal: He’s a good boy!!! Not quite sure how to pronounce his name properly, but his appearance is adorable and I LOVE the fact that he’s a son of Aesculapius because he’s one of my favorite gods soooo... I really wish we could have seen more of him!! He’s kinda like Clovis in the way that he has like one important part, gets mentioned like two times afterwards and then never again :^/

Aristophanes: he’s a cat,,, i love him,,, 

Harpocrates: This was SO interesting and out of the blue to me having gone in spoiler free!! He’s earned a new spot up in my favorite gods list because of how interesting and mysterious he is. His concept was great and although i was sad to see him sacrificed, I hope that he and Sibyl are together wherever they are bc that was damn cute and made me so emotional afgkjldg why did Apollo have to be such a dick as a god,,,

New names with little to no info: Carl (Roman demigod,) Reza (Roman demigod,) Reginald (faun,) Felipe (faun,) Harold (faun,) Lotoya (dryad,) Buster (unicorn,) Muffin (unicorn,) Whagadoodle (unicorn,) Shirley (unicorn,) Horatio (unicorn,) One Eye (pegasus,) Small Ears (pegasus,) Boost (pandai,) Ida (Roman demigod,) Caelius (Roman demigod,) Thomas (Roman demigod,) Colum (Roman demigod,) and Terrel (Roman demigod)

Lester/Apollo

MY BOY HAS GROWN!!! He’s so human now, and I’m so proud. He doesn’t even second guess sacrificing himself or humiliating himself to save his friends. I just... I have a lot of feelings over his character development. Rick handles him SO well, and I just,,, I love him,,, i am,,, in love with him,, i would date lester papadopoulos

Meg

She’s grown to be such a doll!! I was SUPER annoyed by her in the first books, but now she’s my daughter. I love that she’s actually expressing emotions other than ‘annoying 12 year old’ now. Like I wanna protect her.

Reyna

She was a pretty good character in this book and her leaving the camp was a HUGE surprise to me. I kinda wish she was still praetor because idk Hazel just doesn’t rlly seem as fit for it as Reyna was, and I like Reyna a lot, but idk i guess it’s coolio. I was also glad Rick cleared up all the romance discourse about her too though the way he did it was kinda weird (she literally was using the word ‘ship’ out loud like wh-- and i don’t remember the venus thing at all so maybe i missed it from a different book? idk it came out of nowhere to me)

Ella and Tyson

I actually like Ella a lot now!! I used to find her quite annoying, and her relationship with Tyson felt forced, but now that I had the time to get used to her and figure out her character a little more, I do like her. She sort of treats Tyson weird, but I think towards the end, I fell for their relationship more. Tyson was literally excellent, show-stopping, breath-taking, amazing,,, like YESSS KING I LOVE YOU AND YOU PEANUT BUTTER-SMELLING SELF (that one scene where he just started dancing and apollo didn’t know if it was for the ritual or just bc he felt like it killed me)

Character Deaths

Dakota: I AM NEVER GOING TO GET OVER THIS ONE FOLKS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY TIMES I HAD TO REREAD THE SAME SENTENCE TO MAKE SURE THAT I WASN’T HAVING A NIGHTMARE. I PHYSICALLY CANNOT BELIEVE THAT RICK KILLED HIM OFF. I’M STILL EMOTIONAL OVER IT, AND JUST AJSDHF;AMNJ ‘;  NOOOOOOOOOOO THIS IS THE SECOND SIBLING POLLUX HAS LOST IM GOING TO  S C R E A M  HE WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS AND HE DESERVED BETTER DAMN IT I’M LITERALLY IN SHOCK LITERALLY DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE I’M STILL IN SHOCK FROM CREST’S DEATH IN THE LAST BOOK TBH AND NOW THIS??? NOW I’M SCARED CLOVIS IS GONNA DIE JSDKLFKS the only thing that gives me comfort is that Jason can be with his friend in Elysium now fuckkkk,,, rick why did you do this to me,,, I LITERALLY CANNOT EXPRESS HOW UPSET I AM I WILL  N E V E R  HEAL

Don: Don was sort of a comic relief character in SoN, and it was very sad to see him go. He reminded me a lot of Grover, and his death scene with Lavinia ACTUALLY made me tear up. THIS BOOK MADE ME SO EMOTIONAL GOD DAKOTA AND DON WERE LITERAL BABIES RICK GIVE THEM BACK

Bobby: listen,,, we never even met this kid rlly and i was still super sad when lavinia had to kill him again and hannibal is without him and just ughhh whyyy

Julia’s mother, father, AND foster parents: HOLY SHIT RICK WASN’T THAT KIND OF OVERKILL??? I felt so bad for the poor girl, especially cause she’s like six??? But it’s very sweet that Terminus adopted her. I really liked that.

Jacob: AAHHHAHA this one made me sad too!!!! he was such a minor character, but he reminded me of Damien White and Ethan Nakamura (if he were allowed to actually be a kid,) so I think that’s why I was sort of partial to him. The way he died was SUPER horrid too, so I just,,, im big sad for him (on a good hand, he went down F I G H T I N G)

Mentions of anything relating to Hypnos or his children

Yes, i am keeping track, sue me. Somnus was mentioned one time in this book as one of the gods Apollo briefly considered summoning to his aid, and it is presumed he has some sort of tribute at Camp Jupiter had he not before. You’ll make another appearance someday Clovis, I know it :’^D 

Final Thoughts

I literally CANNOT wait for the next book (which I presume is the last one.) From what it seems, we’re returning to New York, so Camp Half-Blood will be present. I can’t wait to see my babes again, and I’m REALLY hoping more minor characters will be allowed to shine (cough clovis cough) but like i KNOW some will die and just,,, im sad,,, dakota’s death has wrecked me,,, but on the side note, the new book is coming out in my last year of school!!! i’m so excited because this series holds emotional value to me like i’ve literally gone through my high school career with trials of apollo like it was with me the whole time and it’s one of the only things that keeps me going. i just,,, i have no words to express how much this series and all the others mean to me...

thank you so much for keeping me going, uncle rick. i can’t wait to see how this all ends :^) <3 

[lemonscreativeworld]

A Rose By Any Other Name

In Which Asra Ruins Everything.

A/N: This is largely based on two things; the meme of MC saying Muriel can have their last name by @arcana-time and @derpam for the comic about Asra bursting into Muriel’s hut and ruining the potential first kiss between him and the Apprentice. 

It was a rare day when Muriel visited the shop during open hours. It was even rarer when he stayed for the whole day, though he spent most of it in the backroom. I had made sure to buy some eel and black mead especially for his visit as well as a comfortable spot in the backroom. Whenever I was not dealing with a customer, I made sure to check up on him, popping my head in and asking him if he was okay.

The darling man was just sitting in a pile of our biggest pillows, some of which I was graciously allowed to bring home with me from The Palace, with a fantasy novella he had asked to borrow. He seemed so concentrated on it, his eyes reading the pages intently and my heart sang with how adorable he is. Even better was that Dumpling had curled up around his neck and dozed off, Muriel idly reaching up to give him head scritches. It was all too adorable; I just wanted to squeal with joy but I had to be the consummate professional I am for my patrons.

As it stands, I just finished with a pair of regulars, a saucy grandmother who came in with her quiet husband. She came in to ask questions about her grandchildren, mostly about their health and love lives. He would ask about their own future and it was entertaining to watch Granny Idris say, “We’ll be dead in a few years, what do you mean?!”

But that was not the catalyst that led to the most exciting events today. As they were leaving, I was engaged in conversation about marriage. “I’m interested to see the man or woman in your future, Mr. Stefanidis!” Granny had said, and I laughed at her remark.

“Who is to say I do not already have one, hm? Did you ever think on that, Mrs. Idris?” My retort made her snort and she just patted my cheek as Grampy Idris just took his wife’s hand in his and pressed a kiss to the wrinkly knuckles there. He tutted at his wife for her nosiness, and gently dragged her away while she continued to call out questions I gave no answers to. While Granny Idris was something akin to a grandmotherly figure to me, I had no desire to tell her about the subject of my affections, especially when I saw him walk out of the backroom and onto the main floor. Dumpling was nowhere to be found and I suspect that he left the lazy weasel on the pillows.

“Do you need something, darling?” I ask him, shutting the door and put a note in the front window about being out to lunch. Of course, I would stay in to eat with Muriel; even if I wanted to go out, I would never leave him alone in the shop. He might leave without saying goodbye, and I could never have that. “Do you wish for some tea or sweets?”

He stood there for a moment, looking at me with confusion written as plainly as letter on his face. “That woman…” He said, and I blinked.

“Oh, Mrs. Idris? Yes, she is a regular patron here, and a wild one at that.” I replied, already getting out the necessary components to make a refreshing rose and lavender tea. “Spicy old woman, I adore her.”

He looked away and then back to me, several times as though he was thinking. “She called you Stefanidis.”

Putting the kettle on the stove, I filled it with water and waited for it to boil. Motioning him to take a seat with me, I took one for myself and answered him. “Yes, that it is my name. Aneirin Stefanidis.” To my delight, he only hesitated a moment before sitting down. Before, he would merely insist on standing a ways away from me…now, though, he felt comfortable enough to sit next to me. It made my heart burst even more and I wanted to kiss away the furrow to his brows. “Do you not have a last name, darling?”

“No.” His answer was blunt and to the point but I could feel the hint of sadness to it. The poor baby probably felt somehow left out. “I never thought about it before.”

I put my elbow on the table and placed my chin in my hand. “Well…do you want a surname?” The question was as innocent as I could ask and yet, he still seemed to blush.

“I…don’t know.”

“You can have my last name, if you wish.” The words flowed so cleanly from my mouth, with no support from my conscious brain. It was nothing more than a gut reaction and even I was surprised I had spoken them. It took us both a moment to properly register them and once we did, we looked at each other with red staining our cheeks. “I…” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “I did not mean to say that…”

He stared at me for a long second before turning away. “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.” Was…was that disappointment I detected? Or was I so used to the gruff annoyance that I merely wished it was something else?

Opening my mouth to say something else, the kettle took that time to whistle, and I rushed up to set it off the heat, turning the stove down. Turning back, I saw him looking at me strangely but he turned away too fast for me to catch a glimpse of his expression.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. I took a couple steps forward to get closer to him in an effort to not talk across the room when I saw a familiar flash of white and then I was falling. I had tripped over Dumpling, who had come from seemingly nowhere. I held my hands out to cushion my fall, but instead of face-planting into the hard floor, I face-planted into the solid wall of Muriel’s chest. His hands were on my hips in an effort to keep me steady and my hands were on either side of his body.

Once I had realized exactly what kind of position I was in, I slowly leaned back to look up at Muriel. My voice was caught in my throat as I saw how close our lips were in this position. His face was a bright, almost cherry red, and I am more than sure my own face was well on its way to being just as bright. I could smell the eel and mead on his breath and even more than that, the scent of myrrh was intoxicating. I felt like I was drowning in his presence and I never wanted to surface for air. “M…Muri…el…” I practically whimpered and his response was for his grip to tighten ever so slightly.

The slight rubbing of his skin against mine shocked me as he started moving closer, leaning down further until our lips were just whispering against each other. I was in a state of euphoric bliss; after months of pining away for this beautiful soul, this large mountain man with an even larger heart, this shy, kind, wondrous human being, I would finally get my wish of us acknowledging and cementing our mutual attraction. It was everything I wanted and possibly more.

…

Until there was a deafening giggle and Muriel and I both froze, our heads snapping towards the door. There stood Master Asra, Faust dangling around his neck. “Working hard, Aneirin?” He said and I wanted to slap him silly.

In a panic, Muriel almost pushed me away and turned away from his longtime friend, leaving me to face a smug asshole. The anger and annoyance was hard to keep out of my voice as I asked, sickly sweet. “Master, would you like to join me outside for a moment? There is something of the ever most importance I must ask you.”

It was then he knew he fucked up, as the look on his face dropped a little. But he could not escape as I marched towards him and grabbed his arm. “Muriel, darling, if you would be ever so kind as to make the tea, I would appreciate you to the moon.” His response was a deep grumble, which is what I expected.

I opened the door and then slammed it behind me, letting go of Asra and we just stood there for a moment in a tense silence. “So…” He started off, his voice still smug. “You and Muriel, hm?”

“Asra…I shall give you a five second headstart towards The Palace.” Golden lightning was already crackling in my hands as my eyes glowed with my magic and he was gone in a white and purple blur.

Suffice to say, he just barely made it to The Palace.   

[allinlowercase]

If I Could Tell Him - Chapter Three

Chapter Three - At the Beginning

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: Alaska hadn't intended to be slingshot back into 1960. Life doesn't always live up to our intentions. When she and her friend Jackie are supposedly hit by Paul's car, they are by chance swept into the Beatle's orbit. But while Alaska struggles to reconcile her lost future and past, Jackie is unable to contain her excitement.

A/N: Hello there *swings comically elaborate candelabra around* welcome to my fic. Thank you for reading! If you see anything that’s inaccurate in this series please don’t hesitate to let me know. I like to think I do a good job of researching my shit, but I am only human.

January 18th, 1963

I startled awake at the sound of a brisk knock on wood. Looking up from my place in a highly uncomfortable chair, I saw a nurse making her way towards Jackie's bed; I must've dozed off. After determining that I was in surprisingly exceptional shape for being hit by a car, the doctor decided that I could handle the news that Jackie was faring much worse than I. She suffered from fractures in her left clavicle and femur, and the bruises that covered her were still purpling. Although everyone thought Paul'd hit us with his car, I knew that Jackie could've been injured much worse from that semi. Whatever God had saved me from extensive injury had also saved Jackie's life.

The nurse smiled at me from the other side of Jackie, and as she started to check her vitals I untangled myself from a plastic bedside chair, pulling my legs down from their perch on the side of Jackie's bed. "How is she?" I asked when the nurse had finished. She'd been Jackie's nurse for a few days now; her name was Mary. Mary offered me another light smile.

"She's improving, little by little. She just needs to be resting and getting her strength back up. How are you this morning, is there anything I can get you?" she asked. I'd kept up a near-constant vigil for Jackie, and the hospital staff had been exceptionally lax on me. There were, of course, the factors that I didn't have anywhere else to stay, and that Jackie was in a critical condition. But I also came away with the feeling that the hospital staff in this unit were just very kind people. Mary had been amazing while she was Jackie's nurse, and all the other nurses seemed happy and eager to be just as kind. I especially liked the doctor, Dr. Taylor, who'd managed to miraculously check by for Jackie every time she happened to be awake.

I shot her back a smile, a small one. "If you could perhaps bring me some coffee? That would be great," I asked softly. There wasn't always coffee left in the nurse's office, but Mary nodded and promised to be back, passing Paul on her way through the doorway. I hadn't expected him to do as much as he had for us. He visited every other day or so; whenever he did Jackie would sometimes be up. She, of course, thought she was having fever dreams, and I didn't see much point in correcting her yet. She was still fragile.

When Paul found that I only had about forty dollars between us (which as it turns out, can get us pretty far) he offered to help pay. He also offered his couch from his living room and a few other things: would I like him to bring by dinner? The food in the hospital can't be that great. Was I sure I wasn't cold? My shirt looked awfully thin and the hospital, as a rule, was pretty chilly, besides it being the wintertime. Would Jackie and I enjoy sitting in on a session of his band, when she was out of hospital? He already knew that Jackie recognized him and was a fan; she looked at him the way Mary must have looked at Gabriel - terribly confused and maybe a little frightened, but in intense awe.

I hadn't taken up a lot of them; I knew he felt guilty for the idea of having hit us with his car, which he obviously thought caused Jackie's injuries. I don't know, maybe he was partly responsible. But I did know that he hadn't broken Jackie's femur, and that combined with her being in such a bad state had fueled me to refuse his offers of a couch and going out for food. To him, it was an offer to get my mind away for a little bit, but that didn't seem right to me.

"Hello," he started, raising his hand in a little wave. He pulled up the only other vacant chair in the room. "How is she?" he asked, crossing his legs. I shrugged.

"Well, she's been able to stay awake for longer periods now, but it's followed by almost equal bouts of sleep. I don't know if that's better or worse. Mary said she was doing better, in terms of vitals. I think she's getting more lucid too, she's remembering conversations better," I offered. He nodded and rubbed his jawline. Jackie rustled around in the bed next to us and I looked over to see her awake. I offered a small smile, which she tried to return, although the bruising on her cheek caused her obvious pain.

"Hey there Alaska." I reached out and squeezed her right hand, which had remained fairly unbruised. "Hi, fever dream Paul." He nodded, trying to hold back a nervous chuckle. He found it almost funny how little Jackie believed that it was him. "Has Taylor been by? I haven't seen him in a while."

"You saw him this morning," I reminded her; she wasn't the best at tracking time yet. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Fuck you man, that is a while," she muttered, digging her head into her pillow, trying to make a comfier notch. In the beginning, I couldn't tell if Paul was bothered by Jackie's swearing, but I think he was just surprised. Now he snorted.

"In a manner of sorts, I suppose it's a while," he offered in defense. There was another crisp knock at the door. I turned to see Mary proudly entering with a mug of coffee. Paul raised his eyebrow as I cradled it for a second before taking a sip. "Are you sure that's a good idea Alaska? It's already six at night."

I shrugged. "I'll be up for a little while, besides I just slept. I don't want to be groggy." Paul sent me a disapproving side-eye.

"I worry, about you sleeping in that chair every night and eating mostly from the hospital. It's doing you a disservice, I think. You know I've room at home," he offered. I shrugged and felt Jackie's eyes on me.

"I don't spend every night in this chair. Sometimes, I manage to find a couch in a waiting room," I replied like that made a difference, pausing to blow on the coffee. "Besides, the food is not that bad, I'm not expecting Gordan Ramsey." Paul looked confused at my accidental pop culture slip but didn't address it. I cursed myself. Memo to work on that.

"Alaska no," Jackie piped up from her spot on the bed. I looked over at her, sheepish. I hadn't really discussed this with Paul in front of Jackie before. "I'm bedridden, not dead and I'm not going anywhere. If you're trying to tell me that I'm your excuse to not go home with Paul fucking McCartney, I will beat your ass."

I snorted. "You'll beat my ass? You'll beat my ass right from that hospital bed?" She glared at me in response.

"I'm serious. I don't want you to sacrifice your own well being because of me. I'll feel like shit for it. I want you out of this room tonight, or else I will grab you by the neck and shove you down a shower drain. Do you hear me?" Paul looked a little perturbed by the scope of the threat, but I lifted both my palms up in defeat, not exactly thrilled to be sharing a living space with a stranger. Jackie was right though; I wasn't taking care of myself.

Our conversation went on for a little longer before Mary came back with Jackie's dinner, and shooed us out at her request. I pulled on a cardigan and jacket that Paul had brought me from his house and started my exit from the hospital with him. We started on the sidewalk towards his house.

Feeling otherwise awkward, I started humming. Paul looked at me queerly. "That's quite catchy; you come up with that yourself?" he asked. I paused, panicking for a moment as I realized it was the guitar melody from Miss You.

"Um, maybe? I think I've heard it somewhere, though I can't remember where. Been driving me nuts," I offered, trying to sound as vague and honest as possible. I could lie somewhat well, but I usually needed time to prepare for it; I wasn't an on the spot type. He seemed to accept that though, and we continued walking, making some genuinely pleasant conversation. Paul expressed frustration over his commute from home to the studio, and I told him about my own hometown.

I wasn't sure how to be here without changing anything later on. That sounded silly to me, the idea that I could change the future, but I realized that I very well could. I could try to Yesterday someone's ass and steal their song or a novel. I could hand Paul the lyrics to his most beloved songs right now and go for a writing credit. Hell, I could potentially stop Revolution No. 9 from making its way out into the world if Paul's guilt kept me around that long. It was constantly hitting me, the power of time travel. But taking someone else's work seemed seedy, and I wasn't down for it, so I tried not to do stuff like that: humming songs that don't exist yet.

We reached what I supposed was his family's home. It was pretty, with brickwork and hedges around where the yard met the sidewalk. Pretty standard I supposed; admittedly, I don't know much about English architecture.  As Paul opened the door and let me in, we were met by the call of a man.

"Paul, come in the kitchen," the voice directed, stern but not unkind. Paul shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a coat rack, and offering to take his jacket back too. I followed him into a small yet cozy kitchen, where a young man was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, and an older man stood at the stove. Squinting, I could see the date on the newspaper read 18 January 1963. I kept forgetting what day it was, though I know I asked Mary more than once.

The young man looked up from his newspaper and made a grunt in surprise. He folded it loudly and stood to offer his hand. I took it and shook as he introduced himself.

"Hello there, I'm Mike, this sod's brother. Welcome to the McCartney residence."

[victubia]

I have decided to end the Victubia comic [Please read <3]

I have decided to end the Victubia comic. Please let me explain why.

As some of you know (those of you who has been a part of this from the start), Victubia started as a simple wallpaper project for some of the YouTubers that I loved at the time.

I was unemployed for long periods of time, and depression and anxiety hung all over me. There were times when I didn’t want to get out of bed because I had no good reason to do so. My confidence in myself and my abilities was at rock bottom… but then I started watching youtube.

And I suddenly had a small (but fun) reason to get up and do something. It gave a reason to laugh and smile. Victubia mixed a lot of things I liked at the time, and eventually, I came up with a story set in this universe, staring the YouTubers.

Victubia started as a motion comic, but when I realized it took me way too long to create each chapter, I made the decision to make Victubia into a regular comic.

The Victubia comic has been going on for almost 3 years. And it has been 3 amazing years!!

Before I continue, I wanna thank all of you who’s been part of this journey!! It’s literally meant the world to me, and it gave me back some self-worth and creativity when I hardly felt anything.

So why am I ending it? Well, there’s a lot of reasons, and in a way… I’m not ending the story here. Let me explain.

The last year or so I’ve had thoughts about ending the comic. It came sneaking up on me, but I kept pushing it back down. I didn’t wanna accept the fact that I wasn’t as happy drawing the comic anymore. And more than anything I didn’t want to disappoint the fans and readers of the comic!

You guys have ALWAYS been the reason I kept going! This project started because of the YouTubers, as a thank you for brightening my days, but it continued because of you who read the comic and was invested in the world!

In an attempt to make the comic a bit more fun for me to draw, I tried to work in more original characters (Alma, Edrea Stern, Ryder, Porter etc), because I love making original characters and I felt that they fleshed out the story in a lot of good ways. But I quickly noticed that the interest for original characters in this story (unless it’s a villain) is pretty small and that most people only cared for the YouTubers.

Which OF COURSE isn’t strange at all! This comic is about YouTubers after all! But I couldn’t deny that there became a rift between what I wanted to do with the comic, and what my readers wanted to read.

While I still had a lot of fun with the comic, I felt less and less joy working on this project, which I guess also got reflected in the fandom, because there were fewer and fewer people interested in Victubia. Less fanart and fics, and fewer people going to my art streams or talking in the discord. And you know, that’s okay <3 As someone who’s been in a lot of different fandoms for the last 15 years, I know that fandoms come and go. Interest fade and you move on to something else. I know that’s the reality of it, but let me tell you, it was a bit difficult to come to terms with this when it’s your own fandom, haha! But I HAVE come to terms with it, and the bitter feeling I used to feel is mostly gone.

Another reason is that drawing comics inspired by real people is never a good idea. Part of me knew that going into this project, but I was just too naive and too ignorant to accept it. People change. Relationships and friendships change. And that will always be a difficult thing to adapt to when making a comic about real people. And as much as I still love a lot of YouTubers, I don’t always agree with them (as is the case for most people), but I don’t always wanna feel that I endorse them. Even if I state my own opinions, actions speak louder than words, and the fact that I make a fan comic speaks volumes in a way I don’t want it to. Victubia was always supposed to be a fun and silly fan project, but because the characters are inspired by real people, it’s bound to get difficult at times. And that made the project become filled with anxiety at times, and it really wasn’t good for my mental health. I felt almost trapped in this project at times.

I also don’t want to be known as the woman “who only draws YouTubers”. Which leads me to my next reason to stop the comic;

I want to do more things.

Victubia takes up a lot of my time most days when I’m not working on my part-time job as a preschool teacher or work with freelance jobs, leaving me with almost no free time.

And as a creative, it really brings you down after a while.

I almost never draw anything for myself anymore, not even sketches. I have so many things I want to study! I have so many amazing original things I want to draw, and also fan art. And I have a lot of other projects I wish to make a reality.

I wish to take more freelance jobs and commissions! I want to make my own children's book series! I have an original comic project that I’m dying to spend more time on!

But time is limited.

Looking over my story notes I’ve slowly realized that the Victubia comic would take YEARS to complete, and that’s just too much for me to spend on a fan comic.

“Are we never gonna find out what happened in the story?”

I don't wanna leave you guys hanging, and despite the fact that the comic is ending, I’m still gonna share the complete story with you guys, as I’ve decided to post the rest of the Victubia comic story in script format.

Doing story scripts takes MUCH less time for me to write (compared to drawing the comic), and you guys will still get the whole story. It’s still a story I wish to tell.

I’m going over and writing it as we speak, and it will be released in parts. How many I can’t say just yet.

“So what happens to the Patreon?”

I will still keep my Patreon, but it will transition into a Patreon for most of my creative work.

The Victubia scripts will still be posted on Patreon first before they reach the rest of the public. And I still have a few things I want to post (like a Late Night Bar map).

But eventually, I want to fill the Patreon with original art and fanart, studies, blog posts and sketch requests, to name a few. I will explain more when the time comes.

If you are signed up to my patreon for Victubia only, I totally understand if you want to cancel your subscription. I won’t hold it against you! <3

I will, of course, be eternally happy if you stick around and see the changes that will happen <3

“So is the Victubia Party over now??”

Not for me at least! XD

Honestly, I’m not ready to give up this universe, because I still love this world and all the characters that have been made for it. My own and others and I don’t see a reason to end Victubia as a whole because the comic ended.

The world of Victubia is bigger than the comic, and if people still wanna visit it, it’s always open! <3

I will still create Victubia related work even after the comic script is done, but it will be work I truly want to work with <3

Lastly, I wanna thank so many people! I want to thank all the fantastic people who've been in the fandom for so long! Some of you joined from the very start and made this community so warm, creative and welcoming! All of you who created your own characters and stories and art inside this universe! You are also the reason I kept going with this project in the first place, and without your love and enthusiasm for this project, it would have stopped as a “wallpaper project”.

I want to thank all my lovely, amazing and wonderful Patrons, new and old, who helped make a dream come true and let me work on a project that is so dear to my heart!! Without you, Victubia would have ended a long time ago! <3

Despite the ups and downs, I am SO PROUD of the fact that this project has managed to inspire so many people to draw and write and just be creative in general! <3 It’s so beautiful! I’m also so damn proud that this community brought together so many people, and that people found friends for life, and even love! Many years into the future I hope people can think back on this project and the community with joy. <3

I wanna give a warm and grateful thanks to Vini and Felix for putting so much work into the Victubia Wiki! <3 Thank you for all the time, energy and passion!

I wanna thank all the YouTubers who appreciated this project! You are forever Victubia royalty! <3

Finally, I wanna thank my AMAZING MODS! Old and current!

Who has supported me through it all, and who gave so much of their time and energy to this project! I can never thank you guys enough! You are truly amazing people, and I’m so thankful that you wanted to be a part of this for so long. Asa, Mishy, Jo, Raz, Panda, and Arc... I’m so grateful I can call you guys friends! <3

The last final and very special thanks is to Raz, who not only was my biggest supporter from the start but who became someone so dear to me, someone, that I want to spend the rest of my life together with! <3 Raz, you’ve given so much to the Victubia world that I consider it yours too! So many wonderful stories and characters that always inspired me to create more! Your love and support brought me out of my worst moments and kept me going even when I didn’t think I could. I love you so much and I’m so glad this project brought us together! <3

If you read until the end, you deserve a medal! XD Thank you so much for your time!

If you have any questions or opinions you can leave them in the ask box on Tumblr or send me a message on discord. I will try to answer as many as I can <3

Be on the lookout for the Victubia scripts, and thank you once again for making this something truly special <3

I love you all!

[nightcoremoon]

there's lots of tiny brained bad takes of the far left branding things as Bad™ based solely on their association to other things or certain aspects of part of their fanbase.

this isn't to discredit the shit idiot brain fungus plaguing everyone from centrists, the moderate right, the far right, and the alt right, and even some of the moderate left, where they label everything that isn't about a Cishet White Male American Capitalist Bootlicker who's stateist, ambiguously christian/atheist, neurotypical, able-bodied, has "aryan" facial attributes, is an insufferable asshole, and the like, as "SJW garbage".

but see, prejudice and judgment is bad even if it's not motivated by minority demographic. being a rude dismissive asshole is, you know, bad. maybe making fun of a furry or whatever isn't as bad as being a racist, but you're still a fucking dickhead either way. fuck both of you but fuck the racist more. I'll punch both of you but punch the racist twice (maybe a third time for good measure). do y'all understand what I'm trying to get at here with the tiers of badness? the shades of grey? the steps down the path of evil from "kind of rude" to "literally hitler"?

bigotry is not the only bad thing in the world. yeah it's one of the worst, but you can talk about other bad things without discrediting that, which I know is next to impossible for teenagers (or people who never bothered to mentally progress from such) to comprehend.

anyway what sparked this is all the fuckin joker memes. now I went into it expecting, you know, literally taxi driver 2 followed by a silly horror movie about a clown murdering people. which is what the joker of the comics is all about. if I never watched the movie and only saw, what, the killing murray scene, the stairway dancing scene, the trailers, and joaquin phoenix sitting in a padded room and laughing, that's exactly what I'd had gotten.

but like. I fucking watched it because my dad wanted to watch it with me and he fucking loves all things batman (except Ben Affleck). and wolverine but mostly batman. he's a comic nerd. so yeah I went to watch it with him.

and it was legitimately terrifying from a purely psychological perspective. it's LITERALLY the best scary movie I've ever seen without being horror in the slightest. the acting, the writing, the score, the pacing, the cinematography, it was well put together without being a moffat level overproduced mess. it was a good movie. you're allowed to not care for it or not like it but to objectively call it a bad movie is not only a logical fallacy (eye of the beholder) but it also discredits the opinion of every single person who didn't hate it and makes you come off as a pompous fucking asshole rather than having different tastes.

it's about a guy with severe mental trauma in a bad situation trying to make the best of it and care for his family and hold down a job but he gets fucked over from literally every angle and eventually he snaps and makes a mistake and kills the misogynist rich asshats on the train. oh fuck. he could have gone to the police and said self defense and go through the court system but wait, society in gotham doesn't allow for a clean system of justice when you aren't rich. so instead he proceeds to be a major creepazoid turned murdering lunatic blaming everyone else for his own bad situation instead of the whole deal where he did stupid shit like taking a gun into a fucking children's hospital and stuck his fingers inside a child's mouth and stealing shit and falling further down the rabbit hole. until finally, he says fuck it and seeks revenge. the whole bloody mess that follows is his own fault. he chose to kill people. he chose to murder for petty reasons. he made his decisions and he suffered the consequences for it. all of the festering rotten crime in the city spawned by waynecorp's supreme negligence heralded him as a hero and so begins batman's story.

arthur fleck is not a fucking hero. he is a villain through and through. his circumstances were unfortunate but he made the wrong decisions. the world fucked him over and he said okay and retaliated. joker is exactly the fucking same as breaking bad. arthur and walter white are both evil people through their own decisions. but they were once normal people. and that's the point. the scariest monsters in the world are usually the white men angry at the world for their own shortcomings. oswald. ruby. dahmer. bundy. gein. manson. klebold and harris. white. fleck. they're all the filth stuck in the gutter of society that, if left unchecked, has deadly results.

I'm not kidding at all when I say joker was an important movie for myself personally to see exactly when I saw it. because that first half, I'm not gonna lie, it got me. the therapy didn't work and then it was taken away. he didn't eat most days because he had to support his mother. the people he worked with were dickheads, the people he commuted with were dickheads, his boss was a dickhead, people treated him like garbage on the streets. he couldn't remember the trauma inflicted on him when he was a baby but it still warped every aspect of his life. he had aspirations but lacked the skills. he was sad. alone. empty. he was suicidal. he was me.

then he started killing people and using the neighbor girl as a tulpa and I realized oh no oh god oh shit OH FUCK I need to change from this. and I did.

joker is a perfect template of how not to react to the world when it kicks in your teeth. it's a perfect template of a dark movie. just enough to sympathize with the bad guy but not enough to excuse his actions. the opposite of star wars with kylo ren. a good movie. a good character. an amazing actor. a terrible person.

if you watched joker thinking you're watching the story of the protagonist, you're right, but if you conflate protagonist with the good guy, yeah you won't like the fucking movie because it'll leave a sour taste in your mouth. you'll feel slimy. disgusting. unless you're a megadouche shitlord piece of human fucking garbage who wants to cosplay arthur fleck because he's so damn cool like walter white and eric cartman and rick sanchez and bojack horseman and tyler durden and all those FUCKING HORRIBLE LOATHESOME HUMANS TO NEVER EVER TRY TO EMULATE OR YOU ARE AN UNEMPHATIC ASSHOLE AND A MORON TO BOOT.

if you hated the movie, that's fine. you're kinda supposed to hate it. and if you loved the movie, that's fine so long as you understand what the message was. but if it's one of your favorite movies of all time ever made holy shit please go to therapy jesus christ.

still the point of this post is, discrediting the movie as a steaming pile of shit is incredibly ignorant. and as for the "good movies made by white men are only liked by other white men and are therefore bad movies" thing... if y'all can thirst over eddie brock in the trainwreck of venom and admit that the standards of good movie vs bad movie are all subjective, you're a goddamn idiot if you can't apply the same logic and reason to every movie just because some white boys like edgy clowns (even tho joker is way less edgy than pennywise but go off) in abusive relationships with harlequins. oh and assflash newshole, I'm not a white man.

I swear this bandwagoning bullshit is exactly the same mentality as "hurr durr nickelback worst band ever" even though nickelback is ripe with musical talent underneath a few pop songs that they wrote for the record label as part of their career so they can make a fuckin living BECAUSE CAPITALISM IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL and also because of all the misogyny that bled its way into the music industry in the 2000s but that's a topic for another day. 'joker bad' and 'nickelback bad' are products of the same mental decay that social media wrought upon us all, inflicting mass mob mentality and incapacity for individualistic rational thought. which is exactly why there's a war between camp 'joker is bad' and 'joker is amazing' and nobody acknowledges the group in the middle that's like 'joker was good objectively but also terrible subjectively and content-wise'. polar. I could make a political statement and also say how the neoliberals and the fascists are at war while the people in the middle are caught in the crossfire and forced to fight like pawns on a chessboard, but the moderate right, dumbass centrists, pastel commies, and pockets of the moderate left, but that just throws everything into chaos.

tl;dr learn to think for yourselves omg

[go-diane-winchester]

Why I stopped liking Misha after eight years.

I loved all the guys at one point.  I don't stan anyone.  Some people may think I am crazy about J2 only.  Well, yeah.  I loved everyone, once upon a time, until they gave me a reason to hate them.  Now only the Js are left and despite being flawed [like every human being on earth] they are still decent human beings.  They are not manipulators or provocateurs.  They are just flawed.  So my admiration has gone back to season 1 to 3, when it was just J2 and they were enough.  With some side order of John.  I like all the Winchester boys, but not blindly.  Even if one of my boys do something wrong, I will acknowledge it.  I wont ignore it, or make excuses for it.  Nor will I dog him down for it.  Unless he is a repeat offender, like Misha.  Misha is not one of my boys.  He is barely a man.   

Before I started to really hate Misha, I had a soft spot for him.  I didn't ship him.  I don't ship.  I mix and match according to my mood.  That is how classic slashers used to do it.  Because pinning your happiness on one ship, when the are a bevy of beauties out there, is a silly thing to do.  I was going to write an epic story for Jared and Matt, where Misha was going to play a pivotal role as Matt's brother because I always felt Matt and Misha had similar fraternal features.  It was going to be an epic.  I was also going to do a suspense-ish story with Jared and Misha, where the epilogue was going to be Misha brutally killing an old woman, but he was the hero of the story.  That story was actually close to my heart.  Unfortunately I got sick, and didn't write anything for years, which is a good thing because I would have regretted wasting such a nice story on that leech. 

I was going to write a Cockles story about two years ago, with Jared, JDM, Gil McKinney and Tahmoh playing supporting roles.  I am meh! about destiel, but never begrudged others who liked it.  Hey, different strokes right?  Its all fantasy anyway.  Or so I thought.   I heard some canon talk on YouTube, here and there, and thought that ''this girl doesn't understand slash''.  How was I to know the majority of them don't understand slash.  Then the hellers started to really misbehave in YouTube comment sections, on Twitter and at cons.  You had to blind not to notice it.  And I was shocked.  I said, ''I wish I could meet Misha.  I will tell him about these fans.  They are giving him such a horrible name.''  I liked him and thought he would make everything better.  How stupid I was. 

Then I realized that everyone else is a either a jerk or leeching off J2's fame.  I realized that Speight was a Trump supporter and that put me off.  Misha blurted it out on a panel and Richard looked angry about it.  Its the first and last time I appreciated Misha having a big mouth.  At that time though, I still liked Misha.  I realized Matt was following a heller on SM, who was bashing Jared continuously, so he can get lost.  Osric was nice and I paired him with Jared mostly, because the big and small thing does something to me.  Sevin was my jam.  This was my honest thoughts when I encountered Kevin zig-zagging and outrunning Sam "Oh, let this cutie be Sam's pairing.  Poor Sammy is so left out because of destiel.  At least now he will have his own stinking cute pairing''.  Not even knowing how I was going to come to regret supporting destiel.  

I felt sorry for Misha, because he was poor and lived on handouts.  I remember him saying that Random Acts was inspired by a woman who bought gifts for him, his brother and mom on Christmas Eve when he was very little.  I felt sad that he cut himself, because he was a bullied teen.  I was furious when he got mugged.  I wanted those pigs caught.  ''Ok, fine, steal his stuff, but there was no need to hit him''.  In other words, I believed everything he said.  I was a sucker.  And I was livid when I realized that he played me and all his other fans. 

The first thing he did, which I didn't like, was bashing the Bible.  I am a Muslim and found that very offensive.  That made me think back on that lady who showed him kindness as a child.  Why would he bash her beliefs when she was so nice to him?  But I thought, first time offence, and let it go.  Then I realized that he was too provocative on stage.  Whether it was swearing or talking abut sex, he didn't care whether children were in the room or not.  I am fairly sure he curbed his language when West was on stage with him.  I cant remember though.  When it came to slash, I was always baffled at why he was talking about it at cons.  As far as I knew, slash-related questions were banned.  Later I realized it was because he was breaking the rules, which was essentially making Jensen look bad. 

Once there was a heartfelt complaint from a minion that fans were asking Misha very sexual questions in a panel.  I was angry.  Why are fans being vulgar with an actor?  He's not your boyfriend.  Later, when I checked for myself, I realized he was being provocative too.  He also made some blasphemous remarks.  Later he complained to one of the handlers ''I didn't know where to draw the line''.  I forced myself to give him the benefit of the doubt even though, that incident stayed with me for all these years.  So he creates the environment that he is complaining about, to make himself look like a victim.  Well sow it and reap it, hypocrite. 

Jaxcon 2017 is where I started to pay attention to Misha and his hellers, and Jibcon was where my mind are fairly made up.  It was only when I looked into Travis Aaron Wade's case that I fully made up my mind, that Misha might be a shadier character than I thought.  Misha has said some very scandalous things about Jensen and Dean followed by ''oh, I am going to get a phone call about this.  I just know it''.  If you have been told not to do something, then why do it?  It was Jensen's death threat that made me really hate this guy.  When I first heard about it, I thought, ''Misha is going to give them a stiff kick for threatening Jensen''.  Months went by.  When Misha kept on pandering and pandering despite the abuse online, that is when I realized that this man is a manipulative, heartless creep who only thinks about himself.  I regret my Misha admiration and I feel a little ashamed that he suckered me.     

Edit:

A reader added this and it thoroughly surprised me:

Agreed on all, but one point I think is off and I’m almost certain I’ve heard that Mishas kids actually swear and he’s ok with it; jokes about it in his panels. I saw a clip once where J2 and MC are on stage and he talked about it and J2’s reactions were almost comical.

If anyone knows which panel that was, please let m know.  I want to see J2's reactions.  And what Misha said. 

[closetfanfictionauthor]

based on this comic by wingedcorgi here on tumblr here is this jily one-shot that i couldn’t stop myself from writing

edit: i was reading through this and i wasn’t crazy about how it was written so i edited it and i’m much happier with this version

Lily Evans was late for Potions. She was sprinting down the corridor, a stitch in her side as her breath came out shorter and shorter, the door to the dungeons coming closer and closer as she ran.

She hadn't planned on being late, in fact she had set off for her class a lot earlier than had been strictly necessary. But because it was Hogwarts and no one could go longer than half a day without a duel breaking out in the middle of school grounds, she was forced to intervene as her duty as Head Girl.

It involved a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin of all people. The Hufflepuff had been spouting some sort of nonsense about Voldemort going about things the right way, and the Slytherin, who Lily now knew was a Muggleborn, had given the Hufflepuff a good arse-kicking before she had stepped in and put a stop to everything. It had taken quite a bit of shouting, at least three Shield Charms, and a threat to take away over fifty points from each house if both students wouldn't knock it off.

Which was why Lily barreled into her N.E. level Potions class, completely interrupting Slughorn while he was introducing the potion they would be working on that day. Her bag hung off one shoulder, her robes were hanging from her elbows, her hair which was previously in a neat bun, was now tangled and hanging by Lily's lower back in a large knot.

"S-sorry I'm-I'm late, P-Professor Slughorn," Lily puffed out, her right hand clamped to her side as she bent over, her left hand pressing on her knee as she tried to catch her breath and stop the pounding in her head. The entire class turned around to stare at her as she staggered to the empty seat that was next to James and collapsed into it.

"Not a problem, Lily," Slughorn replied with a fond smile before resuming his speech. Lily was only half listening to Slughorn's words as she rummaged in her bag for some spare parchment and ink. She wasn't looking when Slughorn took the lid off of the cauldron sitting on his desk at the front of the class, too busy pulling out piece after piece of her Potions equipment that she'd need for that class.

Lily's attention was dragged away from her bag and back to what was happening during the class by a powerful smell that seemed to have filled the entire class. She wrinkled her nose and grimaced. In normal qualities it was the kind of scent that Lily would've enjoyed immensely, but there was such a concentrated smell of it permeating the class it made her nose hurt. She looked around her to see if anyone else smelled the same thing but found that her fellow classmates had dazed looks on their faces and silly, sleepy grins pasted on.

There was something familiar about the smell, something woodsy or musky about it, like it was someone's cologne. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why it seemed so familiar, or where it was even coming from. She leaned over towards James to ask him if he smelled what she smelled when she caught the scent on him.

"Christ, James, how much cologne did you put on today? It's as if you bathed in it," she complained loud enough that Slughorn, and the rest of the class, stopped what they were doing and stared at her. She pinched her nose closed in a weak attempt to stop the headache she no doubt knew was coming. "It's making my nose hurt," she went on in a nasal voice that set the corner of James's mouth twitching upwards.

Oblivious to all of this, Lily gave another strong sniff in the air, not noticing the grin that was beginning to spread across James's face, and frowned in confusion. The smell of his broom polish immediately followed the intense aroma of James's cologne.

"Have you been polishing your broom, too?" she went on, squinting at James in confusion. James didn't get the chance to answer, mostly because Lily was on a roll, but also because he couldn't stop himself from smiling even if he'd tried. "You might want to lay off it for a bit, you absolutely reek of it."

"Have you been to the history section in the library again?" Lily asked in confusion as the smell changed once again. "It's like that dusty, old book smell you get whenever you've been searching through obscure texts that no one has bothered to read in decades. Like that one time I caught you searching for books on Animagi near the restricted section."

It was only when she caught the gleeful looks on her classmates' faces, and the amused look in Slughorn's eyes did Lily realize her performance had derailed the lecture.

"Thank you, Miss Evans, for demonstrating, as I was saying," Slughorn went on, as the rest of the class sniggered at Lily's outburst, "Amortentia smells different to every person depending on what attracts them most."

Lily could feel her entire neck and face getting hot and turning red. She looked down and slowly slid down in her seat until only the top of her forehead could be seen. If the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, she wouldn't object. James managed to slide even closer to her, that idiot grin of his still on his face, one arm thrown across the back of her bench.

Someone let out a wolf whistle, which made Lily turn even redder. She brought her hand up to her forehead to make sure no one could see how alarmingly red she turned. She didn't even want to think about the look of disgust on Snape's face.

"Say Lils, you seem awfully smitten with your Head Boy," James whispered into her ear. She jumped at his closeness. She didn't have to look to know everyone was watching them flirt, she could feel their eyes on her.

"Please, for the love of Dumbledore, shut up," Lily choked out. James's arm moved from hanging from the back of her bench to around her shoulders as he tugged her towards him, because Potions class was obviously the place to start acting like a couple and marking your territory. Although Lily was lying to herself fiercely as she tried to convince herself that she hated it and thought it stupid (on the contrary she could not be more delighted).

James leaned down to whisper in her ear again, the grin still on his face (Lily was fairly certain it would never leave his face). "You're right, we can discuss this more in depth later."

And because Lily had already exposed herself to her entire Potions class, and the rest of Hogwarts, she decided she might as well do it properly and replied with,

"If 'discuss' means anything other than mess around in your bed, I will be very disappointed in you."

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S1 Ep 43: Mokuba Simply Has No Survival Instincts

While it surely wasn’t intentional, since the 00′s hadn’t finished their course at the time this show aired, the storyline of Kaiba, the moodiest millennial of them all, the boy who works his ass off, wins every award, studies hard, and then fails at every aspect of his life when he actually goes out to try and get his career on track is just so very millennial. It’s a pretty familiar story--trained to be a shark in a small swimming pool, dreams as big and high as the moon, but occasionally completely disconnected with what’s going on around us because we’re trapped in some MMO videogame. Again.

We’ve already had quite a few episodes that dove into Yugi’s psyche, including one where we literally walked through his labyrinth brain full of traps and real legit problems as he said “nonono this is all really just fine.” But, this is an arc that’s all about Kaiba, who is about to be devoured by the same insane pipe dream ideas he worked so hard to create.

Mai and Joey suddenly realize who the other is and then just decide “youknow lets not duel” and I praised the sun because how pointless would that have been?

The Mokuba orange text is very close to the Joey yellow. Sorry if any of you are colorblind, I never realized that Mokuba would have so many speaking lines when I started this. Maybe I’ll make him a light blue at some point?

I know I titled it as Mokuba has no survival instincts but honestly it’s every single person on this show.

(read more)

I only say I’m too afraid to check the skyrim mod forums because most those mods are a little too kinky for me.

Like...

Why didn’t Bakura use THAT card back on the island? Holy cow. It’s a good thing Joey isn’t cursed with the ring because everyone would be very super dead.

So they trot along across the desert and not much happens. I guess a sand worm or something? It’s just a desert.

And like do I even need to make the obvious joke or is it already--

No, not yet.

Anyways, what’s at the other end of the desert, hm?

We are SO CLOSE to finishing this season how is there ANOTHER MAZE!? There’s only like 6 episodes left we could have been maze free I just...whoever was in charge of maze design for this show worked overtime.

God bless, storyboarder. This is a frame I caught completely by accident--most people would not be able to notice that Joey just takes two hands--one on Yugi’s head, the other on his chest and just pushes him completely over like he’s one of those roly-poly toys.

The hell Mai? She is the age to date Joey’s Dad.

This labyrinth is different than Yugi’s, in that it is crowded by a bunch of huge inconvenient tanks that all want to kill them for some reason. I have no idea how any of these tanks ever turn a corner.

Mazes seem to be the most boodthirsty thing in this universe--can’t pass through a maze without every law of physics/tanks wanting to murder the hell out of you

Imagine the David Attenborough documentary on this family of wild tanks.

And then this weird thing happened--as if we weren’t already seeing the weirdest collection of things that Kaiba chose to focus on in this magical world where he could have made anything else happen.

It’s Marie Antoinette Mokuba. She’s just here. To exist.

Speaking of bad ideas, Kaiba is getting crucified.

Every anime ever made just acting out the Passion for kicks and giggles, it ain’t even Easter yet.

So quick side story about bad ideas and stuff, because sometimes we spend YEARS of our lives trying to make something that is not very good work and it just doesn’t--it just doesn’t happen. I work in freelance so I see that a lot. I see it happen to other people, I’ve seen it happen PLENTY to myself.

I knew this guy, I’ve known him my whole life (and he’s way super old so he won’t read this blog) and for the entirety that I’ve been alive he’s been trying to make an operating system to compete with Windows. Now I’m from the Bay Area, so this isn’t SO weird. There’s this whole crazy world outside of Linux where everyone and their mule is making an OS that will change the Silicon Valley landscape and make them the next Bill Gates. It’s kind of like “here’s my neat app idea” but like 2 steps more ascended.

For about 40 years, this guy has *and still is* making this OS. 40 years. But his OS is now like 40 years behind the times because he never released it in any form because it wasn’t done yet, it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t ready.

One of the most important things I’ve ever learned is that whatever you may be working on right now will not be your Magnum Opus. It just won’t. So finish whatever you’re on and move on to the next thing. When I was told this, I was working on my first comic and although I wasn’t really aware--it was hella not great. But, it was a story I grew up writing, so I was hella attached to it. So, it could never be perfect. It mattered so much to me to get it right, and I was so worried about what other people would think, that I worked on it for about 4 years before I ran into the OS guy and I realized “I need to just post this and move on or this will be my endless OS”

Like, this is all a silly story of climbing through Kaiba’s bad fiction, but sometimes our simple ideas can turn into parasites, and we become so obsessed with them, that our good efforts are robbed of ever getting a chance to finish something good. Like this is Kaiba’s one big huge sprawling terrible video game idea and all of his friends and his brother are here to basically give him an intervention. Also to save him from the guys who are still heading Kaiba corp for some reason.

Anyways, now these guys are in a generic carriage because they got to the Camelot section of Kaiba’s cyberworld because this boy could not focus on one single genre.

Whatever because inside this castle is DINNER

The vague orange oblong fruit is back! The gravity melons! We still aren’t sure what they are--because they could be mangoes but they’re orange like oranges. huh...

Anyways, it’s about time for this show to get dark.

So this is a game mechanic of playing the card game Yugioh--so like...it actually does make sense why it’s here but like. This is just medieval The Lottery, huh? Is Kaiba getting ritually sacrificed by his own video game? Ritually sacrificed WHILE getting crucified? For a DRAGON? It’s like right in front of him that his Dragon Obsession has maybe gone too far but I assume that once this is over he’ll be right back on ship dragon.

I just like to think that, for the past few years, Kaiba’s just been drawing birds and medieval stuff in class and being all “it’s going in my sweet ass video game, Joey, it’s not a princess, it’s Princess Atena, and she’s gonna get sacrificed to satisfy the Mythic Dragon” but none of his classmates ever remembered any of this lore because their brains kept getting wiped by some Season Zero Pharaoh nonsense.

This color scheme on the walls is just...that’s lime green and lilac all right.

Anyway, how generic 90′s fantasy anime can we make the armor here?

None of them use swords.

Scratch that--Pharaoh would know how to use a sword. For the rest of them the weapon seems kind of moot because they’re all card wizards?

So off they go, Joey in a minidress made for...breastfeeding? I guess? And the rest in matching armor suits. Seems like Kaiba’s game is programmed to recognize and harass Joey just as part of it’s core code.

OH.

So there was a lot of buildup to that happening and I blinked and missed it and had to rewind, it happened so quickly.

Man if they had just stayed indoors none of this would have happened.

So Mokuba is in a 7 layer ballgown for the rest of this show right? I feel like the hoop skirt would make it very difficult to get crucified in. So, at least he has that.

As they bring this ancient bird to life with the time card, we get to see what Tristan and Tea have been up to--mostly just pushing stuff.

So when Tea does ballet she’s on the bottom just tossing everyone else around, right? That girl is jacked.

So, that was a lot of random things in succession--Next week, on Yugioh:

Does Kaiba turn into a dragon, finally, like he’s always wanted? Will the next environment in this randomized video game land them right in the middle of a Fallout Post-Apocalypse? Or will it be in the middle of a Petz kitten-adoption center? Or, will it be the ultimate challenge for these kids--in a Japanese High School visual novel sim where they actually have to attend class?

[awholeotherlevel]

Crime Diary-Chapter 2

By Camille Scott

The night I met Plum, she took me home.  I was a little ashamed for her to see the neighborhood I lived in, but then I was sure I’d never see her again.  My fingers were on the door handle when Plum reached out and briefly touched my leg.  She meant it as a sincere gesture of friendship.

I fumbled with the door handle, mumbling about the lateness of the hour.  She produced a business card.  Her friend Kenji would be in the next day, if I decided to give him a call about the property.  Plum was so nonchalant about it that I didn’t feel the least bit awkward about accepting the card.

I went up to the dingy hole that passes as my apartment, thankful that my landlord’s light wasn’t on.  He would be knocking on my door soon enough.  The end of the month was drawing perilously close.  I went upstairs, sat on my worn couch and savored my first encounter with Plum.  Tomorrow, I’d be a pumpkin again.

I got up and strode to my cramped bathroom.  Using my sleeve to swipe at the toothpaste spattered mirror only succeeded in smudging it.  A dampened bath towel from the heap at my feet did the trick.  I scrubbed the mirror until it squeaked, before leaning towards the reflective surface, peering with comic intensity.  What did Plum see, when she looked at me?

I wanted to believe that I had an air of accidental coolness about me.  You know, the just-threw-something-on sort of stylishness.  My reflection pained me.  What I had actually achieved was a dopey, mom-picks-my clothes look.  No matter how hard I attempt to look mature, my face always betrays me.  Somehow, it always manages to retain an air of young gullibility.  My doe-like eyes intensify the effect.

No wonder con artists and social misfits are drawn to me.  My face is like an open invitation.  Plum was definitely not a social misfit.  I realized that Plum might have ulterior motives and then quickly banished the thought, telling myself not to ruin a good thing with negative thoughts.  You see, my doubt-infested mind rebels against anything positive.

Whenever someone is nice to me or something good happens to me, I automatically look for the catch, because there always seems to be one.  Call it paranoia if you’d like, but I see it as safeguarding my feelings.  Someone does something nice and then the next words out of his/her mouth are usually something like, “Oh by the way, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mid doing me a little favor.”

Since I have a fear bordering on the pathological of disappointing people, I usually wind up doing whatever they ask.  You’d think I would be accustomed to being used by now.  It shouldn’t even bother me anymore but it does.  I’m angry with myself, long after the person has forgotten the favor.  That’s just how I am.

Other people don’t seem to give a second thought to things that keep me awake at night.  That’s my biggest problem.  I over think everything.  It’s the curse of having an overactive imagination.  Sometimes, I wish I could just switch off my brain.  If I could do that for an hour or so a day, then I’d never need to take a vacation.

That night, I decided for once in my life to just go with the flow.  I glared at my reflection and resolved not to analyze every little thing.  If Plum never spoke to me again, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.  I repeated the thought out loud for good measure.  Even as my lips formed the words, my heart knew it wasn’t  true. 

If I’m going to make sense of the bind that I allowed Plum to get me into, then I really ought to be completely honest.  I have thought about it before.  You know, the big “S,” last call, skydiving without a parachute, stop the world I’m getting off.  But I’d never have the guts to actually go through with it.

Thinking about suicide mostly satisfied the drama queen in me.  Whenever I get depressed enough to entertain the thought, I mostly fantasize about the guilt that my family would feel.  It’s the ultimate in having the last word.  Of course, with my luck I’d do it and no one would even notice that I was gone.

I seem to have that effect, or rather lack of effect, on people.  Someone could be sitting in the same room with me and forget that I was there.  All that was going to change, now that I had Plum.  I turned away from the mirror and moved to stand just outside of the bathroom, puzzling over a way to make myself look more mature and sophisticated.

I stalked to the bedroom and flung open my closet.  There had to be something in there halfway decent.  It didn’t take long to work through every piece of clothing I owned.  Everything was out of date, frumpy, too tight, or had some indelible stain in an obvious place.  I’m kind of accident prone with my clothes.  Maybe that’s why I couldn’t recall the last time I’d actually bought something to wear.

I hate shopping for clothes.  Getting undressed and trying things on in a drafty dressing room is a nuisance.  Then the clothes I pick out never look quite as nice as they do on the mannequin.  Even when I manage to find something that looks like it might work, I wind up balking at the price tag and shoving it back on the rack.

When you have to count every penny like I do, buying new clothes seems extravagant.  It’s easy to get by, when you never get invited anywhere.  On weekends, a big outing for me is a trip to the grocery store or the mall.  So I keep clothes until I wear a hole in them or the seams start unraveling.  Even then, I don’t throw them out.  They usually become pajamas. My mother teases me about it.

“One of these days, you’ll wind up naked on the bus because you’ll sneeze and your whole outfit will disintegrate.”

At work the next day, I fished the business card out of my purse.  It was still scented with Plum’s sumptuous perfume--a blend of white musk, flowers, and spices.  For the thousandth time that day, I wondered what she was doing.  Should I call her friend? What would I say if I worked up enough nerve?  Maybe if I called him and set up an appointment, she would be there.

That was silly.  Why would she be hanging around this guy’s place of business?  Someone like her had plenty of important things to do.  If anything, the man probably hung around Plum.  I daydreamed about running into her again.  Maybe I could invite Plum to lunch.  Would it be devastating, if she blew me off?  I tucked away the card and tried to forget about Plum.

The days crawled by and nights seemed endless.  The paltry amount of my paycheck was a nasty shock.  It would only cover my groceries for the coming week.  That was without anything extra, just the barest necessities.  It looked like another week of lunchmeat and salty canned goods.

I could forget about paying rent or utilities.  I hadn’t seen a check that small since I was a teenager bagging groceries at the corner store in my neighborhood.  Asking my boss Mr. Canfield about it would do more harm than good.  I was having a run of bad luck.  Sales were few and far between.  No one was buying any of the rundown properties I had on my books.

He didn’t trust me with any of the nice properties in decent neighborhoods.  Just kept claiming that I was too green.  Despair came home to roost and I gave myself over to it.  I was determined not to sell the locket though, seized with the irrational fear that doing so would signal the end of my dreams.

I had already sold off my television set.  Next went my prized computer.  As long as I kept the locket, I’d be able to reassure myself that I hadn’t hit rock bottom.  How may failed attempts would that make?  I had too many plans to move back home with my tail between my legs.

The thought of my sister dismissing my dreams with a smug, “I told you so” made me physically ill.  I couldn’t let her win.  The two of us had always been competitive.  When I moved into my own apartment and left her living at home saddled with two kids and no husband, she could have spit fire.

No one in my family understands me or my ambition.  To them, I’m a dreamer.  Any attempts to discuss dreams with my family are met with indulgent smiles.  My mother wants me to settle down, get married and allow my husband to take care of me while I shoot out babies like a Pez dispenser.  In desperate moments, that image has almost been inviting.

That isn’t what I want for myself though.  I could never be happy sitting around the house wondering about what might have been.  I grew up watching her waste the best years of her life working every day and then rushing home to hover anxiously at my dad’s elbow.  She’d dash about all evening, attending to his every whim.

Devotion seems to have a crippling effect.  It impairs your common sense.  My mother can’t seem to grasp the fact that dad will never be satisfied.  The more she does for him, the more he expects.  It’s a never-ending cycle.  If that is the sacred institution of marriage, then maybe it isn’t for me.

I want to have a family...eventually.  I just want to make sure that I’ve achieved a few goals first.  Otherwise, I could never be happy.  There would always be that doubt gnawing away at my insides.  Could I or couldn’t I have been successful?  It wouldn’t be fair to bring children into the world and not be prepared to make them my priority.  I never want to resent my children.

It sounds cold, but that’s how I feel.  Children absorb a lot of time, energy, and money.  In my frustrated mind, they would come to symbolize barriers to my dreams.  At times, the way my father looked at me made me wonder if that wasn’t what he saw when he looked at us; barriers to his happiness.  Like, if my mom hadn’t gotten pregnant with my sister, when they were young, he might not have married her and settled for a nine-to-five life.

My pitiful paycheck made me pick up the phone and contact Kenji. That call changed my life forever.  Funny how you rarely grasp the significance of some things while you’re experiencing them.  I made an appointment to meet with him after work.  That way, there wouldn’t be enough time for me to lose my nerve.