#i will fuel my creative energy with SPITE

[windydrawallday]

Forehead Kiss

[dark-corner-cunning]

Transmutation Warding: Feeding Off The Haters

• Welcome Back, Seekers! Within my local coven, we’ve turned our focus to warding and protection magick as we prepare for the year ahead. I adore transmutation magick for warding! It’s one of my favorite ways to craft shields for myself, my work, my growth, and my success. Instead of constantly bracing for every hex, evil eye, or ill wish, this approach flips the narrative. Transmutation wards work proactively, taking any negativity sent your way and alchemizing it into fuel for your growth and power. Why waste energy defending against haters or uncovering their identities when you can let their spite feed your fire? Let them send their malice—it’ll only make you more powerful.

As always, take what resonates with your spirit and weave it into your own unique magick! My spells and workings are here to spark your creativity and inspire your craft. ✨

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Tools & Ingredients:

1 black candle (to absorb negativity)

1 purple candle (for transmutation and spiritual power)

Thread or Cord (any color)

A mirror (to summon your Fetch Spirit or reflect your essence)

1 clear quartz crystal or any charm you’re called to that can be left on your altar or within your space -  As a subtle sentinel of the ward’s power, clear quartz is a cherished ally in magick. Its ability to be easily programmed makes it a perfect vessel for your intention, while its amplifying nature ensures the energy of your working radiates far and wide. To the untrained eye, it appears as nothing more than a beautiful crystal resting upon your altar or within your sacred space—a discreet guardian cloaked in plain sight, silently weaving its protective spell.

Optional: Chalk or something to draw a circle (for creating a sacred boundary to hold the enchantment of your crystal or charm. If chalk is unavailable, let your finger become the wand. You can also use salt or any symbols you would like to use to draw out a circle.

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Preparation:

Cleanse your workspace and tools with smoke, salt water, or another method of your choosing.

Candle preparation, take your black candle and anoint it with a neutral oil, something simple like canola oil—or any oil you feel connected to for protection. Once it’s dressed in oil, sprinkle it with herbs known for protection, such as basil, bay, black pepper, cinnamon, or clove—or any protection herbs that resonate with your magick. For the purple candle, I like to use a neutral oil as well, then dress it with herbs that are perfect for transmutation, like lady’s mantle and yucca. Along with those, I often add a pinch of herbs that represent success and abundance—and don’t forget to include a bit of your hair, fingernail clippings, or something from your person to taglock the magick, connecting the work directly to your energy. Then bind the candles together with some thread or cord.

Binding the Candles:

Take the black and purple candles and begin winding the thread around them, chanting this, or create your own:

"I bind these flames, black and purple entwined,

Protection and transmutation, powers combined.

Through thread and flame, my will takes hold,

To guard my essence, fierce and bold."

You don't have to go all out like I did with those massive candles. Honestly, a couple of chime candles will do the trick if you're short on time.

3. Place your mirror above the center of your altar or working space, positioning it to reflect either yourself or the flickering flames of your candles (refer to the caption below the next picture for more context). Let it serve as a portal, amplifying the energy of your work. Arrange your candles in a fire-safe dish at the center—I often favor a trusty aluminum pie pan for this purpose.

4. Hold your crystal or charm in your hands, letting your energy flow into it. Visualize your purpose, your will, and your desire imprinting itself upon the object. Once your intention feels vibrant and alive within the crystal or charm, move it in a clockwise circle around the candles, envisioning it connecting to the fiery energy of your working—like a thread weaving them together.

5. When the circuit feels complete, place the charged crystal or charm before the candles. Now, cast a circle around the entire space, sealing in the energy. You can do this energetically, feeling the boundary forming with your will, or use chalk, salt, or symbols drawn ahead of time to anchor the space. This sacred boundary holds the power of your work, ensuring that your charm becomes fully and beautifully enchanted. And now, it's time to spark the flame on them candles.

I used a selenite tower in this picture as a stand-in to show where your crystal or charm should be placed. This isn’t the actual charm I used, but it gives you an idea of the setup. You’ll also notice my altar mirror hanging just above the space, perfectly positioned for the energy work. If hanging a mirror isn’t an option for you, no worries—simply place one in front of your working area instead. The reflection is what matters most!

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Casting The Ward:

Lighting the Candles:

With the bound candles before the mirror. Light them, starting with the black candle, then the purple, and then chant this, or create your own:

"Black flame of shadow, guard and protect,

Purple flame of spirit, energy redirect.

Before this mirror, realms align,

My (Fetch Spirit/Reflection) carries this spell through time."

Incantation of The Ward:

Face the mirror and focus on your reflection, summoning your Fetch Spirit or the reflection of your empowered self. Chant this incantation, or create your own:

"Anyone who cannot honor my essence,

Respect my growth, or stand in my presence,

Be it through disdain, envy, or intent,

Their fate is sealed, their malice spent.

Their energy flows to me, transformed,

Into strength, abundance, success reborn.

As I feed upon their misguided spite,

They are drained by their own blight.

Across all realms, my shield is spun,

Now and forever, this spell is done."

Seal the Energy:

Visualize the mirror reflecting the power of your spell into the cosmos, spreading the ward across all realms. Allow the candles to burn fully if possible, or snuff them out respectfully.

I love this picture! The flames intertwine perfectly, mirroring the energy I was aiming for in this ward of protective transmutation.

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Aftercare:

Charging your crystal or charm: Leave your charm on your altar or in your space as a representation of the ward. Each full moon, place it under the moonlight to recharge its energy, visualizing the ward growing stronger with every cycle.

Mirror Care: Cleanse the mirror after the spellwork with smoke or moon water to ensure it remains a neutral tool for future workings.

Final Words:

Maintain your crystal or charm as a talisman of your protective transmutation ward and remember that this ward will work continuously as long as you charge it and feed it with belief and intention.

Stay Wild, Stay Magickal, & Keep Seeking, Seekers!

[equallyreal]

Transmission Received: The Call Is Coming From Inside The House And I'm Mad About It

Or, a response to National Novel Writing Month's stance on Artificial Intelligence.

But before we get into that, a quick story update: I actually haven't been working on much of anything lately due to some IRL issues going on (nothing too serious, don't worry, I am still alive and healthy). The Edge is going to be on a soft break until I get my energy levels back up to serious writing levels, but I will continue to make update posts to keep people in the loop about how well I'm recharging.

Unfortunately for the people behind National Novel Writing Month, while my energy levels might be low, my spite levels are always at an all-time high, and they are fully fueling me to take down their official position on AI. But first, a timeline.

I wake up to a message in a group discord I'm in with a screenshot of National Novel Writing Month making some...interesting comments about their position on AI.

While going to tumblr to see if anyone else is talking about this, I find this post my @the-pen-pot featuring the screenshot I saw. In the responses, I see @darkjediqueen saying that the article had been updated @besodemieterd giving some information that I'm going to keep secret for now because it creates a truly amazing punchline.

I get off tumblr and read the updated article.

I feel a deep rage in my soul that cannot be tamed by group chat participation, and I click the "write a post" button.

So, with that out of the way, let's break this down, shall we?

The original post, as seen in the screenshot of the above post, contained the following two paragraphs:

NaNoWriMo does not explicitly support any specific approach to writing, nor does it explicitly condemn any approach, including the use of AI. NaNoWriMo's mission is to "provide the structure, community, and encouragement to help people use their voices, achieve creative goals, and build new worlds—on and off the page." We fulfill our mission by supporting the humans doing the writing. Please see this related post that speaks to our overall position on nondiscrimination with respect to approaches to creativity, writer's resources, and personal choice.  We also want to be clear in our belief that the categorical condemnation of Artificial Intelligence has classist and abelist undertones, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege.

This was all I saw when I first heard about this, and this on its own was enough to tap into my spite as an energy source. The second paragraph, in particular, was infuriating. "People who argue against AI are classist or abelist" is a terrible take I've seen floating around AI Bro Twitter, and to see it regurgitated by an organization that is supposed to be all about writing was, to put it simply, a lot.

But, as noted in the timeline, I did see that they had updated the article (about two hours ago as of me working on writing this), so I went to the updated post to see what was said. Somehow, it had gotten worse. I'll be addressing the updated post on a point by point basis, so if you want to read the whole thing without my commentary, here you go.

The first paragraph is the same was it was in the screenshot. The first major different is an added paragraph that begins like this:

Note: we have edited this post by adding this paragraph to reflect our acknowledgment that there are bad actors in the AI space who are doing harm to writers and who are acting unethically. We want to make clear that, though we find the categorical condemnation for AI to be problematic for the reasons stated below, we are troubled by situational abuse of AI, and that certain situational abuses clearly conflict with our values.

First off, I find it a big troubling that while they discuss bad actors in the AI space, they won't acknowledge that these same bad actors are often the ones pushing the whole "being anti-AI makes you morally bad, actually" accusations with the most fervor.

Second, why are you not more strongly discussing and pushing back against the "situational" abuse of AI? Why is the focus on how using AI can be good, actually, rather than acknowledging the fears and angers of your userbase around how generative AI is ruining an art form that you claim to want to help foster? I have a theory about this, but we're saving that for a bit further down.

The paragraph concludes:

We also want to make clear that AI is a large umbrella technology and that the size and complexity of that category (which includes both non-generative and generative AI, among other uses) contributes to our belief that it is simply too big to categorically endorse or not endorse. 

The funny thing is, in a vacuum, I don't have a problem with this statement. They're not wrong: AI is an umbrella term with a lot of complexity to it, and I can see how people would be hesitant to condemn the technology as a whole when there are uses of it that aren't awful. If their whole statement had been this, I would have less of a problem with it (still some of a problem, sure, but I wouldn't be writing a lengthy blog post about it) But they had to delve into how Being Against AI is Morally Bad, Actually, which is where the post continues from here.

The last big change between the screenshot and the updated article is in this paragraph:

We believe that to categorically condemn AI would be to ignore classist and ableist issues surrounding the use of the technology, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege. 

This is much less strongly-worded than the original paragraph. If I had to guess, they got a lot of criticism regarding the original sentiment (namely, assuming that disabled and poor people can only make art if a machine does it for them is actually way more abelist and classist than saying generative AI is bad), and dialed it back through this rewording. They could've just worded it this way from the beginning instead of saying the dumbest possible thing they could've, but whatever.

I don't know if the rest of this was in the article from the beginning or if it was added later, as the original screenshot I saw only showed the first two paragraphs. Regardless of whether this is them trying to cover their asses by explaining logic they should've explained from the start or if this was always here, I still have major issues with these points, so we're going to address them next.

(As a quick full disclosure note: I had to transcribe the rest of the article instead of copy-pasting it because I lost the ability to do so at about this point in the blog writing process. I don't know what happened or why, I just wanted to let you know that almost all typos are my fault, but beyond that I recorded the text as-written at the time that I had the article up in another tab. I promise.)

Classism. Not all writers have the financial ability to hire humans to help at certain phases of their writing. For some writers, the decision to use AI is a practical, not an ideological, one. The financial ability to engage a human for feedback and review assumes a level of privilege that not all community members possess.

You may note that they are discussing the use of AI at what seems to be the editing process. As someone in my group chat pointed out, National Novel Writing Month has nothing to do with editing, and everything to do with writing. The only way you can currently use AI for the act of writing is if you use generative AI to do it for you, which is, I think we can all agree, not actually writing and is actually bad. This emphasis on editing ties into the punchline, which we'll be getting to shortly.

On a final note before we proceed though, I would like to carry over an argument about this matter that is used in the small business/handcrafts sector: If you can't afford it now, save up for it. Don't devalue the work of other people (in this case, editors and things like sensitivity readers or beta readers) by saying it's too expensive and I can get it cheaper on Shein by using AI. Save up and support your fellow workers if it really means something to you, or just do the editing yourself and hope for the best. (Disclosure: I don't have an editor. Or a beta reader. I can't say my writing is the most polished all the time, but I get by just fine.)

Abelism. Not all brains have the same abilities and not all writers function at the same level of education or proficiency in the language in which they are writing. Some brains and ability levels require outside help or accommodations to achieve certain goals. The notion that all writers "should" be able to perform certain functions independently or [sic] is a position that we disagree with wholeheartedly. There is a wealth of reasons why individuals can't "see" the issues in their writing without help.

First of all...just say "disabled." I promise your hands will not fall off if you type that word.

Second, level of education should really fall under the class bullet point, but that's just me nitpicking.

Third, I would argue that the real goal here shouldn't be to say "no using AI is fine, actually", but rather to a) dismantle the idea of what writing "should" look like in order to make it more inclusive, and b) fight back against people who bully imperfect writers. Those are actually more noble goals than propping up a corrupt industry by using the disabled as your scapegoat.

Fourth, the dangling "or" is not a typo I take credit for. It was in the article as of me transcribing it. If I had to guess, there was more to this sentence at some point, and they just didn't fully delete the thought.

Fifth, funny how this is once again more about the editing process of writing and not the writing part. Even more funny when we view the final point.

General Access Issues. All of these considerations exist within a larger system in which writers don't always have equal access to resources along the chain. For example, underrepresented minorities are less likely to be offered traditional publishing contracts, which places some, by default, into the indie author space, which inequitably creates upfront cost burdens that authors who do not suffer from systemic discrimination may have to incur.

This one really pissed me off, because the indie author sphere is actively under attack by the use of AI. AI-created scam books on Amazon's kindle publishing platform are increasing and actively stealing attention and money away from human authors (see this article). Sci-Fi magazine Clarkesworld had to shut down new author submissions due to the influx of AI generated stories, and while the head of Bards and Sages cited physical and mental health problems as a reason for shutting down the company entirely, having to weed through AI generated submissions and the way such bad actors are impacting the industry were listed as the final straw. There are probably even more examples of this, but I only did a cursory google search to avoid being here all day.

Simply put: AI is not helping authors who have to go to the indie space in order to escape systemic problems. It is actively killing the space instead. I don't want to sound doom and gloom, but if this keeps up, these authors aren't going to have anywhere to run to. A refusal to condemn the ways in which AI is impacting these spaces does, in my opinion, make you complicit.

On a final note, you might notice that this point is seemingly once again focusing on editing, not writing. Which means it's time to unveil the punchline pointed out by besodemieterd, the response that made me lose my mind:

They made this bullshit up to justify them getting into cahoots with an AI company called ProWritingAid, it's all over their instagram.

I immediately ran to factcheck this...and it's true. ProWritingAid is, in fact, a more in-depth Grammarly that uses AI for its functionality. They are a sponsor for National Novel Writing Month, and the first three posts on their instagram are dedicated to this partnership.

I completely back up besodemieterd's belief that they wrote this article to justify their taking this sponsorship. If I had to guess, they started taking a lot of flack for taking ProWritingAid as a sponsor and wrote this article in order to defend their decision to do so without actually saying so directly.

I don't want to shame NaNoWriMo for taking sponsors on the whole, as they do need money to stay afloat. However, taking an AI company as a sponsor and then defending their stance by essentially calling people with concerns about this morally wrong and bad is, as the kids say, clown behavior. This is clown shit. It's laughable, it's cringe, it's incredibly disheartening. It's so, so bad.

The next paragraph is just about how they "see value in sharing resources about AI and any emerging technology, issue, or discussion that is relevant to the writing community as a whole." Since my stance on this can be summed up as "AI bad and platforming it is bad", I'm going to skip over this paragraph. I will, however, address their last paragraph:

For all of those reasons, we absolutely do not condemn AI, and we recognize and respect writers who believe that AI tools are right for them. We recognize that some members of our community stand staunchly against AI for themselves, and that's perfectly fine. As individuals, we have the freedom to make our own decisions.

So, basically, you're incapable of saying "no" to money and decided to lean into the talking points of bad faith actors and refuse to address the destruction that generative AI is wrecking on the writing world in order to justify why you took a certain sponsor. In taking this middle of the road, individual choice-ass response, you also threw human editors and beta readers under the bus by justifying the use of technology that actively removes them from the space. You are making the writing world a worse place, which is absolutely crazy when writing is supposed to be the thing you're all about.

Truly amazing. And they're doing this on Labor Day, too.

In conclusion, I will be dead in the dirt before you spot me participating in National Novel Writing Month again. Which is probably for the best. My life can only handle so many self-imposed deadlines. I guess I should be grateful to them for removing one from my plate.

[voxofthevoid]

Hi, I'm sending this to you because you're a prolific goyuu shipper and writer and idk who else to talk to. You don't have to interact with this if you don't want to, which doesn't really need to be said, but I would understand either way.

I have a similar teacher/student ship in jjk I like to read and write about and I have posted about them in the past but it got me anon hate for weeks. I did go on a blocking spree after that but I just always live in fear. Getting mean comments about things I enjoy is such a sour experience, I want to be more indifferent towards all this but I'm still at a place where even a hint of hate threatens to ruin my entire day. I'm afraid to post, there's no community. It's just very abysmal. I guess I'm just here asking you how. How to do it.

I don't mind asks like this, don't worry. One of the (many) reasons I'm open, blatant, and unapologetic about what I ship as well as my overall stance on freedom of creative expression is that present-day fandom is becoming increasingly hostile to darker—or even slightly off-white, to extend the metaphor—themes and tropes in fiction and the people interested in exploring them, and I think it's important for people who aren't part of the moral purity crusade to be equally visible. Not that anyone's obligated to, just that some casual, visible sanity can often make a difference.

I'm so sorry that you had that experience in this fandom. I'm unfortunately not surprised; JJK has no shortage of wankers, and some of them are hateful little fucks who would gladly ruin people's days or lives for whatever endorphin rush their bullying campaign gets them.

That's what these people are at their cores: bullies. It seems like you know that though, and proactive blocking is definitely a good way to prevent or mitigate the damage they can do. But even knowing what they are and what they want, it's not easy for everyone to shake off bad experiences and fears for the future, which seems to be what you're struggling with as well.

The how will vary from person to person. Way I see it, there's an internal aspect and an external one—your mindset and your support system, respectively.

Indifference would be ideal, but it's not feasible for everyone. You can cultivate a certain approach, but in my experience, the way your brain is wired also plays a significant part. Some people are just naturally more thick-skinned or confident or apathetic. I just get angry, for instance, and while that's not exactly easy to wrangle, I tend to calm down on my own once it's out of my system and spite just fuels my creativity. There's no lasting effect beyond an idle thought of "am I gonna have to call anyone a cunt today?" when I post things. Others have different reactions, and plenty of people do shake off the initial fear or stress response to develop a more uncaring attitude, but how you get to that point is up to you, you know?

But if you're currently at a place where seeing hate is not something you can or want to handle (and there's no shame in that), I'd recommend any of these:

Write but don't post. Maybe you're already doing this? But indulging your creativity just by yourself can be a good way to enjoy writing without stressing out over the potential backlash from posting.

Post anonymously.

Posting with guest comments turned off, comment moderation turned on, or comments entirely turned off. Comment moderation would mean you'd still see any bullshit that pops up, so that may not be suitable here. Turning off guest comments will weed out most of the wannabe edgelords, but registered accounts are hardly "safe" either. Of course, if you don't want to post in such a restricted manner (I wouldn't), that's also entirely fair.

Do a mix of these as mood and energy allow.

If you do post in any of these ways, do not look at the bookmarks. Turn anon off on Tumblr too, if you haven't already.

All that said, no matter how thick-skinned you are, most people can and will be worn down by dedicated or even just repeated/frequent harassment. We're human, and fighting off negativity for prolonged periods is fucking exhausting. And this is fandom, not life or death. It is easier at a point to just say fuck it and leave for greener pastures, be it a different fandom, a different fan identity, or a different hobby entirely.

That's where an external support system can help. For me, that's both my personal friends and my readers in general. But I've been in fandom for ten years and have been writing and posting consistently for the bulk of it. I've had time to form connections and a community—one whose members are fluctuating but whose existence is consistent. It takes time or luck or both. And these days, the more social aspects of fandom seem to occur in servers, which is not really my scene, so I don't have much guidance to offer there. But I do know servers specifically aimed at supporting writers of "taboo" content exist, even if I'm not sure how to find them. Tumblr's new Communities feature also seems like it can help you find like-minded folks, be it ship-specific or topic-specific.

From the spaces I do frequent, I'd suggest these:

Join the r/Ao3 subreddit. You don't have to connect it to your fandom identity if you don't want to. But that space is staunchly anti-censorship, and while you may not find close friends or anything, you will find a decent space for various discussions (not always calm or pleasant) and creative endeavours.

Actively seek out chill people in your ship fandom, be it on Tumblr or Ao3. I'm not saying slide into their DMs, just participate in whatever capacity you can alongside people you know ship the same stuff or have the same tastes as you. Build connections the way we typically do in fandom, just with a more discerning eye so that you won't run into anyone who'd turn on you later for your own ships/tastes.

Most importantly, be kind to yourself and take the time you need to recover from the bad experiences you have had.

Good luck ❤️

[doodlesfromthebird]

Heya I've been drawing for a few years now but I'm still learning every day and I'm more than aware of the skill gap between me and others which is fine I am willing to work hard and improve. You and your art is a really big inspiration to me and I hope to reach your level someday. Can't help however but be really demotivated and easily affected by the difference between me and others and I know I shouldn't compare myself with people who have been drawing for wayyy longer than I have. What was your experience while improving your art? Any words of wisdom from the bird? I love drawing and I don't want to lose this kind of connection to it but most of the hours I spend practising are driven by spite and hatred over my own self aaaagh is this too personal lol thank god for the anonymous option lol I LOVE YOUR ART, I look at everything your passion for art overflows through your work.

Hey, pal! It's nothing to fret over, and I'm glad you feel comfortable sharing this! I think getting all your thoughts out this way is already good way to start, and I hope that alone was able to let off some steam on the subject.

I absolutely know how this feels, and it's still something that crops up for me time to time, too! It's gotten easier to manage over the years, but there's certainly times where it's taken the wind outta my sails and sunk my energy to be creative.

I think when you're wrapped up in that headspace, the best thing to do is stop the struggle and don't try to force progress. Don't even allow yourself to problem solve, or ask anything from yourself when that cloud's over your head. There have been plenty of times where I just end up making myself feel worse by simply asking "why do I like to create in the first place?" because I'll come up with overly critical answers "well, it's the only thing I'm good at"

Wait til you've distanced yourself from that frustration, and then give yourself time to reflect. Why do you actually enjoy making art? What about your connection to your creativity is so special to you? At what point in time did you enjoy drawing the most, and why? Why do you want to improve in the first place?

It's difficult because I think it's wonderful that you're pushing yourself to improve and practice. There's been many times where I've wished I could go back in time and tell myself to get more serious about practicing sooner. However, I absolutely don't think it's worth putting strain on your connection with your creativity. I think spite can be a powerful motivator, but when it's fueled by your own dissatisfaction and hatred for your own work, it cuts off the flow of that essential part of you that loves to create for the sake of it.

Sitting down to practice is going to feel like torture, because that spark of joy just CAN'T get to ya when you're trying to appease that part of you that thinks its you're gonna get left behind if you don't work harder. Brute forcing improvement has absolutely worked for some people! But it's also completely normal for that work style to make YOU feel miserable if it's at odds with how you actually enjoy drawing.

Is this all to say that you should only try to get better when you're in LOVE with how you feel about art? Not at all! You don't have to try and add any special feelings or force positivity, you just have to remove the resistance and the burden you put on yourself as best you can.

So if I could suggest anything, as corny as it may sound: be more kind to yourself. I mean it! Make peace with where you are. Celebrate your small wins. Detach yourself from it, if nothing else. Your art isn't always going to look better than it did yesterday, but look back on your work from a year ago! If you don't like the way your art looks, that's fine! That can be 100% true and it doesn't have to be a bad thing. You're going to improve. Take inspired action and practice in a way that draws that connection you treasure with art closer to you. Spend more time listening and indulging in what the creative in you wants to do in between study sessions.

I can comfortably say that I'm at the skill level where younger me would have wanted to aspire to be at. And yet, I have MANY days where I look at my work and wished it looked like someone else's. I still stare at a blank canvas with an idea in my head and feel dejected because my skill level isn't up to par with what I want to achieve. I promise you your art has value the way it looks Right Now.

Once you give yourself that grace, you're going to start looking forward to practicing. The inspiration that'll hit is going to motivate you to try things you might never have thought you'd attempt. Once you look at your work differently, your work is going to change. That's not going to be easy at first, but you can start by just saying "I am where I am, and I'm getting ready to be even better."

If you're interested in some suggestions to maybe get in the flow, while also satisfy the brain's need for Progress when practicing just isn't hittin' right:

Challenge yourself to scribble whatever pops into your head. Anything. Maybe it's absurdly complicated! Who cares. draw The Last Supper from memory in five minutes as best you can. Draw an insane fight scene with stick figures in weird angles. Your brain is going to !!HATE!! doing it, but that's fine! It's going to force you to detach from it. Allow yourself to create something that's bad and can be thrown away right after. Don't spend more than 30 minutes on these. Take the most complicated ideas off a pedestal by just Attempting them anyway.

Challenge yourself to draw only what would appease your inner child for a full day. If you used to trace over screenshots from a tv show to insert a fan character in, DO THAT. Draw something while listening to the soundtrack of one of your favorite video games as a child. Draw an alternative book cover for one of your favorite childhood books.

Practice anatomy by turning the models your referencing from into your favorite characters.

Color/paint a scene/character by picking colors from a screenshot in a movie you really like.

put on a favorite show/movie and draw for the entire duration of an episode/movie run-time. Draw passively without the intention of showing it to anyone.

draw a bunch of large, wonky shapes that fill up the entire canvas/paper and draw mini illustrations contained within those shapes.

IF ALL ELSE FAILS!!! GO TAKE A NAP!!! :) Don't be hard on yourself for being hard on yourself, either. Allow yourself time and ease.

I hope any of this brought hope, or comfort, or even just something to consider. I'm so glad you enjoy my art!! Thank you for your kind words. You and I and everyone else are walking this same road to improvement, and even though sometimes it might not feel that way, we're ALL walking side by side. You aren't alone, friend.

[katriniac]

🥰 I love my various fandom communities here on Tumblr.

The wonderful, beautiful people are WHY I stay. They create gorgeous art, amazing stories, and are fun and insightful.

You what to know what I DON'T LOVE? 😠

When those inspiring and sweet people decide to pack up and leave Tumblr because azzhats sent them anonymous hate msgs/asks.

I will NEVER understand what motivates someone to send anon hate. It will continue to flow into your ask box unless you turn off the anonymous setting. Azzhats will always be azzhats.

But you can stop those cowards by turning off the anon feature.

You can stop them by not even letting them send you their ugly poison.

Protect yourself.

Protect your mental health. Curate the experience you want on this delicious hellsite.

🥺 Please don't leave.

I've seen too many amazing creators and good friends leave Tumblr over the past five years because of the anonymous messages they received.

Your fans will still engage with you if you turn off anon.

If you don't believe me, why not make your own poll? 😉

[givemeonebreath]

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. 

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again.   We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one 

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death   “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything 

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling.   But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through.   In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you. 

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this  But I just don't have the patience anymore 

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover   Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again 

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation  The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream  And you want to shout But you've built up steam  And you can't let it out This is pressure 

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years  Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides  To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides  To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so  So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water  Can't go on Can't go back   Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard  

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it  My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"  Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

[winterandwords]

Not as much of a fucking massive ramble about publishing

After I wrote this large boi of a post the other day, I decided not to think about publishing at all for a while...and the creative paralysis lifted immediately. Today, I wrote for ages. I did this on 3 hours sleep with some total bastard of an illness and an early morning trip to the local drive-through covid test centre (there's a collection of words I never expected to write, but here we are). In spite of feeling like boiled shite, I hit the beautiful flow state that absolutely fuels my whole creative drive and it was GOOD.

Then tonight, just there now, while I was sitting here cursing my stupid brain for forgetting I had a load of laundry in the machine and will probably still be sitting here until nearly midnight waiting for the dryer to do it's thing, a thought arrived in my head that blew everything wide open.

If I was doing another art thing - making jewellery, knitting cat sweaters, whatever - and I said I didn't want to sell them on Amazon or some other gigantic sales platform, and would prefer to sell them on my own site or some small platform where I could do everything on my own terms, literally no-one would bat an eye. Actually, I feel like a lot of people would probably be really supportive of that independent approach!?

I doubt anyone would be like yeah, but are you even a real jewellery maker or cat sweater knitter if you aren't selling your stuff on a massive website governed by ratings, reviews and secret algorithms, picking your way through needlessly complex systems of tagging and exclusivity-or-not and pricing strategies, pouring fuckloads of time and energy into everything but creating art, making very little money anyway (while still making money for the platform) and being mostly invisible unless you throw money you don't have or would have to struggle to afford at marketing that may or may not make any difference in the end?

More to the point, I wouldn't think that about myself. To be honest, other people's opinions on whether or not I'm a 'real' writer (or jewellery maker or cat sweater knitter) are pretty much irrelevant. It's more how I feel about myself with a little bit of prevailing community and industry culture thrown in there. And a lot of conditioning.

I (still) don't have any tidy conclusions or anything. I'm just sharing a little mind-blown moment and being kind of amazed I never thought of it this way before. It feels like other possibilities are opening up too - selling physical books being one of them, also creating story-things that aren't novels. I don't know. I figured since I rambled about it the other day and this represents a big shift in brainstuff, I may as well ramble about it again.

(I'm not looking for advice or suggestions or anything here. I probably will want to pick a few brains at some point, but right now I'm letting my own brain do what it does when it wants to do it)

[midnight---hollow]

Ok its almost 4 am and im fueled only by spite.

I will be trying to explain why i personally think ninjago is a show you should take your time watching because god dammit its a show everyone amidietly turns away cus "lego ninjago? Oh thats a cash grab that only toddlers find funny." Please do note im not an expert and this is just my own opinion, plus its 4 am. I will try to keep this with little to no spoilers.

Base knowledge before we begin. We follow a group of 7 kai, cole, jay, zane, nya, lloyd, and pixal. Kai, cole, jay, zane, nya, and lloyd take up the elements fire, earth, lightning, ice, water, and energy. Zane and pixal are nindroids (robots) wu is their mentor/sensei.

Ok so the plot. Ninjago has abunch of diffrent plots, one for ever one to two seasons. Some are more complicated, "a group of bikers are trying to revive lord garmadon," while others are more simple,"our friend got himself and half the people in ninjago stuck in a video game" but they all come with their own pizazz.

I cant really give a strong on going plot for this because of how diffrent each season is but for each season they make each 10 episodes counts and flesh out the stories they want to tell

We have 6 ninja. Every season 1-2 ninja are taken to be the main characters, the story circles around them. One season we may be focusing on kai and nya and the mystery surrounding their parents, while the next we may focus on lloyds heritage of being both oni and dragon. Every character does something important but there is always one who stands out in each season.

The creativity the writers have is amazing. The fact that we are already about to enter season 13 of ninjago with each season still being interesting and exploring a new concept, while staying to the roots of what we know. Its impressive how many snake concepts you can do with only one or two of them being a flunk.

I personally dont know how they can go from a season about evil ghosts trying to take over the realms to a revenge stricken djinn plotting a wedding to gain ultimate power and have it make sense

The animation. Ok this is an unpopular opinion but i personally cant stand season 1. The story isnt the worst but the animation, to me it looks horrible. Especially when you compare it to almost every season past 3.

This is a scene from season 1, episode 10, "the green ninja"

Now this is a scene from season 8, episode 2 "the jade princess"

The improvement is uncanny. Even with the drop in quality in 11 and 12, its still such an improvement.

Almost every villain in this show hits. not counting the pilot, there isnt any villains that are really bad. Yeah personally im not a fan of acronix and krux but they still hold up as villains. I have yet to see a villain that is complete garbage. We have jokester villains that can still hold threat like chen, and tyrannical villain that make you hate them with every bone like nadakhan. We have a gift from god know as lord garmadon, The list continues.

I cant say if unagami is a bad villain since i haven't finished ns12 but from how far i made it in the season he is a strong villain.

The main characters to, you think it would get crowded with 7 characters, not counting wu, but its suprisenly balanced. Like mentioned before the using 1-2 characters as the mains really helps in giving us space. Its rare for it to feel crowded.

Also each character has their own separate personalities that mold and change throughout the season. Kai who starts out as an arrogant hot headed ninja learns to put others before him and that the spotlight dosnt have to be his. This isnt a one episode change either. Move to season 4 and we still see kai struggling with the fact he isnt the green ninja. Everyone brings something diffrent to the table

Not much to say about the comedy. Not a big fan of it in the begining seasons but i enjoy most of it now

Im probably gonna reblog this post. a few times when i have better or more reasonings but for now i need to sleep

[nessiansimp]

Halloween Party Nessian fic

Nesta hated Halloween.

Firstly, because it was the most pointless holiday to ever grace a calendar. She simply couldn't understand why people willingly chose to dress up in some outlandish costume while stuffing themselves with candy and other overpriced sweets. Second, because she had to spend the entire night in said ridiculously uncomfortable costumes, glaring down anyone who looked at her for too long.

But mostly because every year, her sisters dragged her to the stupid Halloween party their friend Mor was hosting.

Which happened to be exactly where she was at the moment. At the huge house Mor had rented out for the evening, which was filled with loud music and dancing and laughing, and people partying like it was there last day on Earth. There were at least several hundred people there, and she found herself wondering again and again how her sister's friend even knew that many people to invite. She didn't think she'd met more than a few dozen people in her life.

The one thing that made the horrific ordeal slightly more bearable was seeing Cassian. She usually didn't get to see much of him during the year because of both of their busy work schedules. The holidays were one of the few times she saw him, and she was glad to have those few moments with him, despite the horrible music and the drunk partygoers that crowded around them.

She shifted uncomfortably in her witch costume, a short black dress and a pointy hat which she'd reused from last year's event, as she scanned the crowd for Amren. Her sister Feyre had ditched her to find her boyfriend Rhys, and Elain had gone off with Azriel to play some party game.

Which left her alone. In a sea of people she didn't know and had no interest in meeting.

A deep voice rumbled behind her. "Hi, sweetheart."

She whirled around to find Cassian grinning at her. He was dressed in the most absurd costume she'd seen yet. A pale gray jacket with orange pompoms down the center. Puffed up sleeves and white feathers glued to every inch of the shirt collar. He wore matching gray gloves and a fiery orange wig, the color of which suited the pompoms perfectly. The white and red face paint he'd been wearing had mostly faded off, leaving nothing but brown skin in its wake. Although his nose was still painted a vivid red.

"Hello, Cassian," she drawled.

He slung an arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the bar, the only place in the party where she could actually enjoy herself. They sat down on the stools and Cassian ordered drinks for them.

He swiveled in his chair and turned to face her, his gaze raking over her simple costume. It wasn't a particularly creative choice of clothing, but she didn't want to waste the money or the energy on an outfit she would wear only once a year.

"Nice costume," he said. The bartender came back and handed them their drinks, and he swished the liquid in his cup around once, before downing its contents in one long gulp. He cracked a fiendish smile in her direction. "It's super creative. And look at that, it suits your personality."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "At least I didn't dress up as chicken."

He motioned to the bartender for another drink, who nodded and grinned at him like they knew each other. She didn't doubt he knew at least half the people at the party. Cassian was that type of person. Funny and easygoing. Not to mention incredibly attractive. Of course she'd never tell him that.

His attention turned back to her and his lips curled upward. Cassian's eyes alighted with the challenge in her words, sensing the start of another argument. The bartender came back with his second drink and slid it over to him on the counter.

He picked up his drink, watching as she took a sip of hers. "I'm not a chicken," he retorted. "I'm a clown."

"Did you mean that literally or figuratively?"

"Both."

She clamped her lips together, trying not to let any of her amusement show. She'd really missed their arguments.

"Are you sure you're not a chicken?" She gestured to his collar. "What's with the feathers?"

He scratched his head. "Yeah, I didn't have the right fabric so I had to improvise." He straightened. "I think I'm pretty recognizable anyway. I mean, I'm not just any clown."

She stared at him over the rim of her cup. "What do you mean?"

He motioned to the wig and the face paint, then the clothes before he sighed and said "I'm Pennywise."

She raised a brow. "Am I supposed to know what that is?"

He gasped mockingly. "You've never watched 'It'?"

"No. Why would I watch a horror movie on purpose?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because it's fun to get scared."

"Well, if you're trying to frighten someone, the only people you're scaring off are poultry farmers."

He barked a laugh. "Well, if I knew you were coming, I would have suggested we picked out couple costumes instead. We could've gone as ghost or vampires, if that's more up your alley."

She snorted. "Yeah, except for the fact that we're not a couple."

"Who says we can't be one?"

She rolled her eyes and looked away to hide the blush creeping up her face. She tried to search for Amren again, but she still couldn't see her anywhere in the large crowd and she couldn't find anyone else she recognized either. She'd probably be stuck with Cassian for the rest of the night.

The man in question grabbed her hand suddenly and started dragging her towards the dance floor. "Come on," he said.

She groaned. "No way. I hate dancing."

"Too bad," he sang.

They stopped right under the disco ball swinging from the ceiling and Cassian's hands came to rest on her hips, swaying them both gently with the music. The loud music pulsed from speakers overhead and neon lights flashed different colors. Her boot heels clacked on the floor as people swarmed around them in the crowded room, shoving her and Cassian closer to each other until there was barely any distance between them at all.

Someone pushed her from behind suddenly and she stumbled forward, crashing into him. His arms came around her, warm and steady. He held onto her until she regained her balance, then his hands found her waist again.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, until at one point he took her hand and pulled her into a dark hallway far away from the dancing and music and people. She stumbled back against the wall as he braced his hands on either side of her, completely trapping her there. His warm breath fanned over her face as he inched closer until they were practically nose to nose. His dark hair slid over his brow, his hazel eyes burning like molten flames.

She crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. "I thought you wanted to dance."

"I changed my mind."

He leaned forward suddenly and seized her mouth in his. It was anything but gentle, the movement fueled by desire and need, as well as the heavy amount of alcohol they'd both consumed earlier. Her lips parted as his tongue slid over the roof of her mouth, his calluses brushing her arm as he held her against the wall. She fisted the front of his shirt in one hand to pull him closer, although there wasn't any distance left between them at all. His body was warm and hard against hers, and she moaned a little in spite of herself as he slid a hand under her dress and started rubbing circles on her thigh.

She pulled back and grinned up at him. He grinned back, panting and breathless.

She smirked. "I think I'm going to need another drink."

He laughed as she took his hand and starting dragging him back to the bar, when Amren tackled them out of nowhere. Her friend was wearing a black dress, her outfit similar to her own, except Amren's lips were painted a deep red with fake blood trickling off her chin and fake fangs in her mouth.

"There you are," she huffed. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

Amren's eyes flicked briefly over Nesta's costume, then Cassian's, wrinkling her nose slightly as she took in the feathers and the vibrant pompoms.

Cassian smirked at her expression. "What's your costume, Amren? Tiny bloodsucking elf?"

Amren rolled her eyes. "I'm a vampire, you dolt. What are you supposed to be, a chicken?"

Nesta nudged Cassian in the side. "See? I told you."

"Idiots," he muttered.

Nesta slid her hand into his and pecked Cassian on the cheek, who grinned at her devilishly, before following Amren through the crowd and dragging Cassian along with her.

After nearly losing Amren three times, they finally made it to the table where Elain, Mor, and Azriel were waiting for them. Mor was wearing a red devil costume with horns poking out of her golden hair, and Elain was clothed in a flowing gown, a sparkling tiara placed on her head.

Azriel was wearing what he usually wore, a black jacket with matching black pants, except for the white face paint drawn in lazy lines, like he hadn't bothered to put any effort in. She assumed he was supposed to be a skeleton, although his outfit did the bare minimum. She really wished she'd thought of that. The skintight dress she was wearing had already started to become unbearably uncomfortable.

She sat down across from them and Cassian plopped down next to her, one hand on his drink, the other on her bare knee. Nesta was just about to ask where her other sister was, the whole reason she was in this mess in the first place, when Feyre strutted over to them with Rhys on her arm.

Her sister twirled around in her angel costume once before sitting down next to Rhys. "Do you guys like my outfit?"

Rhys wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah, but it'd look better on my bedroom flo-"

Amren gagged.

"Oh please, not this again," Mor groaned, then turned to Nesta and said "They've been acting like this ever since we got here."

Feyre laughed and popped a candy into her mouth from the candy bowl in front of her. "Ok, we'll stop. I promise."

Amren snorted. "I give them 5 minutes before they're at it again."

"2 minutes," Mor countered.

"30 seconds," Cassian said.

Rhys rolled his eyes. "You know we can hear you, right?"

Mor stood up suddenly and clasped her hands. "You know what? Let's do something fun. Like truth or dare!"

"I'll go first." This from Amren, a cruel smile dancing on her blood red lips, in a way that made Nesta feel terribly sorry for whoever was going to be subject to her demands.

Amren turned to Feyre. "Truth or dare?"

Feyre contemplated for a bit, before answering "Dare."

"I dare you to eat every single piece of candy in the bowl in front of you."

"What? No!" Feyre protested.

Amren was uncompromising. "You said you wanted a dare."

"A dare within reason-"

Feyre continued to argue with Amren and Nesta's attention started to wander, already bored with the conversation. Cassian gave her a sidelong glance and the hand on her thigh started drifting higher.

Eventually Amren gave up and slumped back in her seat. Mor took the opportunity to cut in. "My turn," she chirped. "Az, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"When was the first time you..."

The rest of the conversation became a blur as his fingers started working their way up her inner thigh, drawing idle lines and circles on her skin. His touch was warm against her freezing skin, courtesy of the Velaris weather.

Somewhere in the background, their friends were laughing themselves hoarse over whatever Az had dared Rhys to do, but Nesta couldn't hear anything over the roaring in her ears as Cassian hand trailed her legs and slipped under the lace of underclothes, his fingers just shy of her folds.

Two fingers curved in on the soft skin at the apex of her thighs, applying just enough pressure to make her cough to suppress a moan. No one payed her any attention, their focus solely on the game. She slid her gaze to Cassian, who kept his face neutrally blank as he casually participated in the conversation, laughing at the appropriate times.

Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers encircled her core teasingly, so dangerously close to where she wanted him. Every thought in her brain narrowed to the two fingers under her dress, just inches away from-

"Nesta?"

She snapped her head up. Everyone was gaping at them from across the table. Cassian smirked and slowly withdrew his fingers from under her dress.

"Um." She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "Did you ask me something?"

Feyre's eyes darted between her and Cassian, before widening slightly and saying "I just asked if you were going to choose truth or dare."

She cleared her throat, trying very hard not to look at Cassian and the taunting expression on his face. "Dare."

Feyre's lips curled into a wicked smile and Nesta shuddered. "I dare you to kiss Cassian."

Cassian mirrored Feyre's expression as he studied Nesta. She shook her head. "Never mind, I'm going with truth."

Feyre's smile didn't falter. "Do you want to kiss Cassian?"

Nesta stood up from her chair and brushed herself off. She made a mental note to push Feyre into the Sidra later. "I should probably head home. It's getting late."

Cassian stood up with her and tucked his chair in. "I'll walk you there."

Amren's eyebrows shot up to her forehead. She gave Nesta a knowing look, which she ignored. Feyre still wore that delighted grin on her face as she kissed her cheek and waved them off. They said goodbye to everyone, then stepped outside into the autumn weather.

As soon as they were outside the party, away from all the loud music and flashing lights, she whirled on Cassian.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed.

A wry smile. "Oh please, you liked it."  

She had enjoyed it. A little. But she wasn't about to tell him that.

He offered her his arm, which she ignored, and started walking ahead of him. He grinned and rushed after her, leaves cracking under both of their feet. They passed a group of kids trick-or-treating who gave them weird looks on their way to her apartment, probably because Cassian was still wearing that ridiculous outfit of his. They walked a few more minutes in silence, before she turned to Cassian again, who was rubbing his hands together franticly.            

"If you're trying to summon an evil spirit," she said, "I don't think that's how it works."

He grunted. "My hands are cold. I think I lost my gloves somewhere."

"Then just buy new gloves."

He rolled his eyes. "Gee, Nesta, that's a brilliant idea. I hadn't even thought of that."

He continued rubbing his hands together and she almost laughed at the site of him.

"It's not even that cold. No one else is wearing gloves," she pointed out.

"Well, I'm sorry for not being immune to cold weather."

She grasped his hand in one of hers. "There. Now shut up."

His eyes widened at first, but then a slow grin spread on his face. "You know, I think my lips are getting cold too-"

"Screw you," she muttered and yanked him forward. He stumbled after her, gripping her hand like a lifeline. They walked a bit longer, silence settling over them again, until they reached her apartment on the banks of the Sidra.

He leaned casually against her door as she slid fumbled with her keys. "Admit it. You had fun tonight."

She slid her keys into the lock and cracked the door open. "Debatable."

"Wasn't that so much better than staying at home alone and reading some cheesy romance novel?"

He stepped in front of her to block her path, and when she couldn't sidestep him, she asked "Which part? The part where we made out or the part where we got drunk?"

A snort. "We weren't even that drunk. We just had a couple of drinks."

"I must've been drunk if I actually kissed you."

He growled. "You could've just answered the damn question, Nesta."  

She laughed, and he looked as surprised as she was to hear the sound come from her. His face broke into a smile again.

She stepped closer to him, toying with those ridiculous pompoms on his jacket that had somehow managed to stay glued on the entire night. "I had a great time. Best Halloween of my life," she added. "Happy now?"

He smirked. "Not yet."

He leaned forward and pressed a featherlight kiss to her lips then pulled back so quickly she barely had time to register that what had happened.

A smiled danced on his lips. "I can't wait to see what we're going to dress up as for next Halloween."

"As long as you don't dress up in this ridiculous costume again."

He grinned as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut behind her.

[aquaquadrant]

ravenous red

Star Wars: The Clone Wars fanfic Rating: T Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, injury, blood, death Summary:

i heard you wanted a war funny, i wanted it more

~*~

So he says nothing, letting his gaze speak his hate as he relents, turning and walking away. It feels like disgrace, it feels like a failure, to go do her bidding- go cause some chaos, she taunts- but real victory lies in that which she does not yet know. Good at it, sure, he can admit as much, but the means to the end will be something she doesn’t expect. That’s how he’ll get her, collateral damage in this personal storm he directs.

At her request.

Lady Tano, you don’t know what you’ve just asked for.

A/N: I know I said my last oneshot was my tribute to the Clone Wars, but then I heard a song that fit Maul perfectly so I had to do a tribute to him too. It’s actually a song fic, I’ve been writing fanfic since I was 13 but this is my first song fic so hopefully I did it right. This is basically Order 66 from Maul’s POV, showing off how much of a spiteful, unhinged badass he really is. Hope you enjoy, reblogs/comments are appreciated! – Aqua

Song is Appetite for Destruction by Vo Williams

Click here to read on Archive of Our Own

Click here to support me on Ko-fi

~*~

ravenous red

It starts with a scream.

Ringing out through the force like a shot, chaos crashing in after it. Words pass in flashes, snippets he can’t quite decipher. The impressions of feelings brush against him; shock, betrayal, desperation. He feels the flicker of lightning, a bygone but familiar sensation. Someone somewhere has made a very poor choice, one that will echo for ages, one that he expected.

(He did try and warn them)

It’s not long before they come. Identical faces behind identical helmets approach without words. They are rigid, unflinching, as they move to lower the shield that protects him, ensnares him, with unspoken intent written plainly as anything else.

Any lingering sympathy he has for these beings, these clones that were raised to be tools- as was he- dissipates like mist in the sun. To think, they would kill him like this. Trapped and defenseless. A coward’s method of choice; it insults him, right to the core. Let him out, let him fight, he’ll give them a show. He’ll remove the spines they don’t deserve. They aren’t using them anyway.

The death in the air is a pulse in his brain, a constant crashing and ebb of bloody waves. It’s hard to concentrate, hard to mediate between what’s happening right in front of him and what’s happening lightyears away. The force is a furnace, thousands of bodies toppling into it to burn. It devours them gladly, wiping out light from the sky to leave nothing but smoke and ash in return.

He wants to join in, wants to destroy. Not a Sith, not quite, but he hunts like one still. The darkness beckons for him, a familiar cold, coursing through his veins. Yellow eyes glare through glass, burning with hatred and rage. He’d kill them, if only he could. He wants them to know it. He wants them to feel it.

If looks could kill, they’d already be dead.

this is the end of your days it's time we end the charades open the cage, i want to play time for the bridges to blaze

Blasters are raised- but cut down just as quickly.

His savior is a flash of blue. Unexpected but welcome (though he prefers red). Her hostility is unsurprising, her fear concealed well- but not completely. She feels the same death he does, but it frightens her, whereas it only strengthens his resolve. He will not fall as the Jedi do. He loathes the thought; there is too much unfinished business for him to perish now.

(Kenobi will survive this because Maul must be the one to kill him, no one else, he wills this with every fiber of his being- and will is a powerful thing, will allowed him to survive being cleaved in half)

Between the two of them, everything falls into place. His master’s plan, beautiful and deadly. Brilliant and artful. Cowardly and despicable. To strike them down with the men who were created to serve, to protect. They’re nothing but droids now, mindless droids coated in flesh. It doesn’t matter to him; he’d kill either way, but he knows that she won’t.

It’s good that she’s come to him, he’ll do it for her, do what must be done to get them out alive-

Except, no.

She rejects him. She wants to strike out on her own, condemn him to the same lonely fate. It’s foolish. So blinded by her lofty morals that she fails to grasp they’re both members of the same dying breed. The Padawan who might’ve joined him has retreated far beneath the surface, hiding under a cloak of denial at the vision he sees. Her attachment is strong, too strong, that she cannot accept the truth even when given freely.

How dare she? How dare she?! Dare to use him and cast him aside, as so many others before- always remember that you are nothing- this child in a warrior’s mask, thinking he’ll act as her pawn. No, not anymore.

Oh, he’ll kill her. He’ll kill her for that. So many ways to do it, weapon or no. Reach out a hand, reach for the force, strangle the breath from her lungs, crushing her throat in his grasp. In this moment, he hates so greatly he truly thinks that he could. Crush her throat, or crush her skull, he wants to, grab her head and smash it against the wall. Red dripping down lekku of blue and white, a striking image it’d make, to be sure. He always did have an eye for these things.

He wants to see it.

i'm slipping into a craze twisted images into the brain turn up the volume on the pain give me the feeling i crave

But no.

Logic and reason win out. They dictate he cannot waste time on the likes of her. She proved a difficult fight before and his chances are slim as they are. Save his energy, save his effort for the real battle to come, for the ones who march to the tempo of death and come for him next, they’ll come for him just as well as for her.

Neither of them are Jedi but he knows they will not see it as so.

In the end that’s all that matters, how they will see you, how they perceive you, all the words in the world make no difference at all. Words do nothing, only action can produce results, as he’s clearly been shown.

So he says nothing, letting his gaze speak his hate as he relents, turning and walking away. It feels like disgrace, it feels like a failure, to go do her bidding- go cause some chaos, she taunts- but real victory lies in that which she does not yet know. Good at it, sure, he can admit as much, but the means to the end will be something she doesn’t expect. That’s how he’ll get her, collateral damage in this personal storm he directs.

At her request.

Lady Tano, you don’t know what you’ve just asked for.

show me your villainous ways show me the killer's awake make me afraid that's how you bring me to life make the adrenaline race i want a taste

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

Alone, he persists.

His path’s uncontested, legs of metal storming heavy and loud through the ship, not trying to hide. Let them come, he’ll be ready. This aggression needs somewhere to go, after all. It’s burning him up inside. He knows intimately what it’ll do to him, if he won’t let it out. The anger, the pain. It seeks to devour, a ravenous red haze flowing through him, taking control of his brain.

It guides him and he lets it. His stalk is a predator’s stalk, single-minded focus on the hunt. He’s not afraid. They’ll see they aren’t the only executioners at work today.

They find him quickly, scattered through the ship as they are, and greet him with a volley of fire. Metal bends to his will, peeling away like skin off of flesh. Weapons or no, he’s been given a task. He can be creative. The true measure of a warrior lies not in their blade. To wield power, he needs only to look within and ask.

The very walls of their ship become the instruments of their demise. He lifts without effort, advancing slowly but surely with an unbroken stride. Walls to deflect their shots, to smash them aside, to cut through armor, through flesh, and through bone. Two heads roll off with a thrust of his arm, slack faces concealed in their helms. Bodies crushed in between, crumbling limp to the floor. A sharp flick of the wrist pins one to the wall, sliced in half- the irony is not lost on him, but humor has no place here, in this tomb.

And finally, they make their retreat, aiming to seal him inside. But no, he’s not done with them yet. There’s something he needs and he’s not asking politely.

The arm comes off in the end, the vital comm-link still attached to the bracer. He slips it on, leaving the limb to bleed red on the floor, staining the armor- and he was right, what a striking image it makes. But he can’t linger long.

Chatter through the communicator gives him his next target.

Chaos… really, she should have been more specific.

i heard you wanted a war funny, i wanted it more here comes the "bang-bang" on your door it's time to back up the noise i've been ignoring the voice begging me seek and destroy it's eating my core feel like a time bomb in the eye of a storm

He makes it to the engine room without interruption.

It’s cavernous, the floor far below, a pit spanned by narrow bridges. It’s protected, as he expected, clones charge to stop him but they matter not. Their efforts are wasted. Over the edge they go; others fall to commandeered blaster fire, or to his fists. He will succeed by any means. It’s futile of them to resist.

(They can’t help it, he knows, but he doesn’t care- he wants their blood anyways)

The dark side has never flowed more strongly within him. It’s a wellspring inside his chest, filling him completely with inky black cold. Their will is one and the same; burn it all. He reaches out, power surging, fueling his rage as it takes hold. All around him, machinery falls. Sparks rain down from above as reactors are peeled off the walls.

He’ll tear them apart from within. Metal shrieks and groans as he pries it away. The ship’s hyperdrive core is his aim. Without it, they’re stranded. Him as well, but he’s not planning to stay. There must be shuttles, and nothing will get in his way.

The doors part, and another squadron advances to stop him- but they’re too late. He topples the reactors on top of them and down it all goes, crashing to the floor far below, sealing their fate.

And with that, it’s time to take his leave.

let all the chips hit the floor do everything that you want settle the score that's how you bring me to life that's when I'm feeling recharged i want it all

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

The flight deck is a battlefield.

She’s here- but of course- attempting to hold off the rest of the forces, their volley of fire. Somehow, someway, she’s pulled one to her side. Her little captain fights bravely, but there’s too many, it won’t be enough.

He senses opportunity, another chance perhaps to make her see. Come to her aid now and she’ll have no choice but to accept. Offer survival; a joint escape from this wreckage for her and her dog (though he cares not for three). Two are better than one, even if two is the way of the Sith, which he’s not. Their chances are better together. He knows this. He feels this.

Except, no.

She already had her chance, she had three. She rejected him. She scorned him. She cast him aside. You lie, she told him. Your vision is flawed. Arrogant. Stubborn. He hates her. He hates her.

Within a second, his choice is made. He runs past, towards the ship that would be her salvation- now it’s his. She pursues, he deflects; a dangerous dance. The world’s falling around them, and still they cannot help but fight- it’s in her nature, in her nature as well as in his.

You wanted this chaos, he taunts.

Then, without mercy, he pushes her over the edge.

i feel the monster rising up inside and i can't hold it down i'm hungry for destruction pieces crumbling, fall into the ground

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

She’s still alive when he leaves.

His ship arcs away from the crash, plowing through smoke and fire. The entire carrier is doomed, every last soul aboard sharing its fate. Escape pods destroyed, no more ships to salvage. Surely, then, this is their end- but not his.

(He did tell them they’d all burn; but while some burn in fire, others burn with it)

There’s no remorse in his escape. It’s a measure of strength; only he was enough to get out alive. He cares not for her, for how she will burn. She deserves it. In fact, he’d say out of all the beings on that ship, she’s the only one. The droids-who-were-clones cannot ‘deserve’ a fate either way. Every action is the command of somebody else, not their own.

A great victory for his master. The thought curls his lip. But he’ll count his blessings; he survived, and as the galaxy is reshaped, he knows that he has all the skills required to thrive. A tool he might be, but a sharp one. A deadly one.

His master saw to that. He should thank him. Maybe he will- before he kills him.

As for her... the possibility lingers that she might’ve survived as well. Resourceful. Determined. He sensed these traits in her. But he truly hopes that she hasn’t, that the firestorm has swallowed her whole. Not for his sake, but hers. Because if she survived, then the next time he sees her- and he will, if she has- she won’t be so lucky simply to burn.

He will kill her slowly, painfully. Unimaginable agony. Broken in body and mind. Enough to beg for death. Enough to understand what he’s felt, the culmination of all his suffering- truly, a fate to wish on no one.

Best to be taken in fire and chaos.

Lady Tano, isn’t that what you wanted?

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

~*~

[mrneighbourlove]

Evil’s Bane: Ch 10. Evil Anew

The World felt out of balance. Leere was so weak, her mind spinning back into consciousness. The first thing she felt was a stinging sensation in her wrists. Her arms were being held up by a chain, with torturous cuffs digging into her wrists to keep her hands together. She could barely have to strength to move her legs. When she did, she discovered that she could, the Mortuus woman felt a draft. Was she naked? She didn’t have her robes. They at least took her coat and shirt off. Maybe her pants were taken too. She was too numb to tell. Even moving slightly, she grimaced at the immediate pain that followed in her wrists. Blood dripped from her fingers to the floor, and Leere finally saw the pentagram that’s surrounded her. “Oh god.”

Looking around her, there were four obelisks, and straight ahead, the Destroyer himself.

"What? Going to call out to my brother now?" Destroyer was occupied finishing the text on the Obelisks for the ritual. His own claws were digging out the symbols from the stone. All this death and decay and he did not even flinch. "Go ahead. Prama's host is rather busy right now, so I highly doubt he'll come running. Though there's plenty of other deities or spirits or whatever you wish to call them to cry to as well. Makes this so much more fun." He then said, "Better yet, why not ask Tzitzmime to have mercy on you? Perhaps he'll be in a good mood today."

“What do you think you’re doing to me?” Leere sounded tired, mostly because she was, but she still had spunk in her voice.

"I'm simply preparing a feast for Tzitzmime." Destroyer answered as his tail then started to draw a line to connect the Obelisks. He walked the pentagram, making sure everything was in place. After this was finished, he could see Kaksa once more. It would be him and her for all eternity. "I have to be a good host now, don't I?"

Leere grimaced, feeling the tattoo on her back vibrate very slowly. “You want to unleash the horror in me, don’t you? Why?” She looked up bitterly into the eyes of the god. “What can you possibly gain from it?”

"I get the pleasure of seeing that snake wail at the realization of he can't save you." Destroyer had a disturbing grin creeping across his visage. "And relish in Prama's failure. The Anagari will come slithering, trying to be your 'knight in scale-covered armor', and risk exposing Prama. When the fool does, I'll be able to rip my brother from the Anagari's body." He held up his razor sharp claws. "Interesting biological component of these Drakkan. They can use the most ancient of all magic... soul magic. Transfer the very essence of a living creature. With the Anagari so weak, I will be able to use this energy I have saved for hundreds of years to end my brother."

Leere felt hope slipping away. Was this the end of her life’s journey? To fail spectacularly?

No.

Even if she was, she wasn’t going to sink into despair. She still had her grit and her spirit. And she wouldn’t die letting him have emotional satisfaction. “Too bad that as a Drakken you look like an ass. Can’t imagine you can get laid either. I mean, it would be the most logical conclusion. You could never get your claws on your precious Kaksa. So why this life too?” When Leere saw him twitch, she smiled evilly best she could. “I bet your brother fucked her good. They were lovers after all. And even as a snake, he’s still a charming lover. I should know. I bet you can’t even pronounce sex you pathetic, little man. Must be why Kaksa didn’t love you. You’re so little.”

Destroyer did not like her speaking of Balance in such a way. No mere human could understand his story. It was just the three of them for eons. She would give her love to Maker and to him equally. Though for the longest time, maybe just a year or maybe a millennium, she did not return to his side and he despaired. What did his brother have that he did not? Was it because he was of the dark? Was all darkness considered bad? No one would ever know or comprehend, even it if would be a relief to share his frustration.

"Insult me all you wish; it will not change your fate. I'm not stupid like my brother. I will not act upon emotions."

“Fool. You might not be emotional, but you are stupid if you think killing me will bring you any closer to your precious Kaksa.”

"Oh, I know it won't. Killing my brother will." Destroyer seemed so bitter towards Maker. "But killing you will be fun."

Now within range of her face, Leere spat a hunk of saliva into his eye. “How’s that for fun?”

"... I was going to start with your finger nails, though I suppose I could begin with a tongue or your eye."

Leere cracked her finger best she could with the cuffs on. “Do your worst.”

Destroyer was by no means ever merciful. He started with Leere's painted finger nails, removing them one by one. Sometimes, on purpose, he'd leave half of a nail and deem he made an error and had to take off the rest as well just to spite her. Then, he worked on her toes. Before long, all of her nails were decorating the floor. When that pain was not enough to rouse the demon from slumber, he decided to try a different type of torment. Over and over, she was made to watch the death of her loved ones.

Every nail broken off was a spurt of blood. Pain became an abundance to Leere. This commodity was fuel to four obelisks in the room, syphoning it from her. When the mental torment of her family came, and in raw creative ways, Leere wanted it to come to an end. Seeing Rinku, Zelda, Covarog, Sunny, and all the others suffer and day was agonizing. “Fuck. You!”

"Seriously, is that the best insult you can do? So often it is used, never followed up on. Not my type, for sure." Destroyer held up a large pair of rusty scissors. "I wonder how much more it will take for you to break."

“You. Can’t. Break me.” Leere was breathing heavily to keep her mind relatively sane.

"Are you sure about that?" Destroyer nearly chuckled at her defiant attitude. "You're not the first that I've tortured and won't be the last. Many of your fellow Mortuus have broken before me. I have pulled horrors that you have never even fathomed from the shadows that my brother tossed aside."

“Vile beast. You lost before for a reason. You will do so again...”

As Destroyer was ready to continue, two robed figures with grey feathery wings floated down next to Leere. Putting two bracelets and a crown of fangs on her, they started to chant an unknown language. The Shadow man whispered gently into the Destroyers ear. “Your brother draws near. You and your minions must stop him and the wrath from interfering. When my other half is freed, my connection to this avatar will be lost. But make no mistake, I am coming here to see my work complete.”

"So… he is coming..." Destroyer sounded most amused. "I was rather uncertain of whether he would or not. Or perhaps, is it the creature that is coming for the 'tiny princess' he holds so dear? Oh well, the snake did try to warn her. Prama probably showed him all of what was to be seen of her fate."

The two-winged cultists started to chant. From outside a dome surrounding Leere, others gathered from Mortuus to monsters chanted in a hellish pray. The bracelets on Leere’s arms sparked on, and the crown on her head sunk into her skull. As Leere was shocked, and the fangs on her head sunk deeper, a terrible scream radiated outwards.

~

A flash of white. Leere was standing in Hryrule field. The sun was shining, but every animal was dead. In front of her the ground opened up. She fell and---

~

A flash of white. Decay and blood poured under her legs with the force of a raging creek. A mirror lying in front of her showed her true reflection. How old she was. As Leere pushed her legs against the blood to be not swept away, she looked closer at a movement behind her. She peered closer to see the blank pale face and the eyes of---

~

A flash of white. A void of emptiness. It was so white. It had no sound, no image, no feeling. In the distance, Leere saw a figure holding themselves close. They were a shaky silhouette. Turning with white eyes, it flickered. Leere’s soul flickered. It was time. It was the end.

~

All over the Tower of Death, Bonegrinder and Black had teleported, hoping to find Leere. However, like a signal bouncing around, they couldn’t lock onto her easily. Just as they were giving up hope, they saw a flashing pillar of blue light. Eager cultists were running forward, and as they stepped into the light, they were flown upwards into a glowing hole in the roof.

"It's started..." Bonegrinder felt a sense of dread tighten in his chest. "We are too late..."

"... is there any chance we can still save her?"

"If the demon doesn't consume her, then perhaps we can. You must be ready to fight."

"I always am."

Behind them, coming out of the wall as if being birthed from it, the Abomination was still giving chase. All six eyes board in on them. They had two choices. Run up the beam, or stay and fight.

"This thing just doesn't give up." Black sounded irritated.

"A Hellspawn of the Second Ring of Hell never stops." Bonegrinder slithered as fast as he could, going up the beam with Black right alongside him. "Personally, he detests the ones of the First Ring the most."

"And that's not a First?"

"No, if a Nameless was here, we'd both be in trouble."

"Hey, I thought you knew all sorts of magic."

"He does."

"So just magic it away."

"Only the one who calls the demon can do that. Or a Summoner."

"... great."

The ‘Angel’ drew close. Its six clawed talons suddenly glew a menacing purple, and it drove them at Black. As one nicked him, a deep sickness flew through the Wrath. Something that shouldn’t be possible was.

It was as if Black was suddenly paralyzed. He could not move and slammed harshly into the ground. Groaning, the Wraith tried to will his body to function, but he could not do so. Even lifting a finger was unsuccessful. As the creature tried to descend upon him, Bonegrinder's huge tail whacked the fiend away. Snarling at the demon, the Anagari maneuvered the Wraith onto his coils, out of harm's way. "You won't interfere." The Anagari curled the tip of his tail around the fiend's ankle and crushed it with a sickening snap. With that, it stopped its movements. For now.

As Bonegrinder and Black flew up the beam, they gave themselves ample time to flee as the Abomination recovered. It was a silent trip up, every second filling with more and more dread. At the top, they found themselves on the outside of a dome. Inside, Leere was floating upwards now. The Obelisk was burning bright with energy. Suddenly, complete nothing filled the ears of all in witness. It was then the Obelisk fired out a beam, killing all the cultists who wished to be sacrificed. Leere was flipped over with her back exposed. The tattoo on her back was glowing, with blood pouring onto the ground below. Outside the dome a whirlwind was starting to storm, red blood sky being torn by the wind. The final step to the ritual began.

Bonegrinder had managed to use a touch of Prama's magic to undo the effect of the fiend's poisoning on Black. The Wraith could now move again, but felt like he was dragging. There was hardly any energy for him to spare. He would be of no use fighting hardly. As the demonic magic started to fill the air, the Anagari nearly panicked. This was not supposed to be happening. He gently set down Black on a high ledge, hopefully to protect him from danger and rushed forward. Slamming his fists on the dome, he repeatedly struck at the structure.

"YOU LET HER GO!!!" He bellowed. "You want this snake!!! Come get him! You leave her out of it!!! Dhakk!!! He knows you hear him!!!"

"Ah, dear brother, you finally arrive to show!" Destroyer was on the other side of the dome completing his work. "A little late, as always, but better than never."

"He is here! You release her! This snake has seen a thousand deaths and he refuses to see another!"

"It seems Prama is still silent? Too cowardly to come and face me?" Destroyer played dumb, tapping his chin with a single finger. "Or perhaps... he's still not at his full power?"

"You are not capable of your full abilities either, Dhakk!" Bonegrinder snapped at him. "That will not happen until the day of prophecy!"

"Oh, you and that stupid prophecy, do you honestly believe Balance will come after Prama? After me? It's nonsense."

"You know she will! She is the Mother Goddess! She will strike down Chaos and restore harmony to the world!"

"Not if I can help it. This world will be consumed by Chaos and with you out of the way, Balance and I can live peacefully without the hassle of meddling affairs of a mortal world in the void."

From outside the dome, waking through the storm, a familiar voice shouted out to them. Sheer-Khan trotted through the bellowing wind, slowly making his way to the Hive leader. “Bonegrinder! We must abandon our station here! Open a portal to Hyrule! We must flee, now!”

"Kit!!!" Bonegrinder was relieved to see that Hades was still here. He had sensed his life was still there, but it was so hard to know for sure in this cursed land. "He is so glad to see you! Please, help him break through! Leere needs us! If the ritual is completed, then Tzitzmime will have another part of his whole joined!"

Lightning crackled, and Hades gently laid a hand on Bonegrinder’s shoulder. “She is lost. But we might be able to rally the rest of Hyrule’s Warriors. You must hurry. You are the only one able to open a portal home.”

"He cannot leave her!!! Don't you understand, Kit?! She's a key! If this is completed, Chaos can take hold of the world before he is scheduled to do so!" Bonegrinder pleaded with Hades. "Help this old snake stop the ritual! There is still time! He can suppress the demon!"

As Bonegrinder turned to break down the dome, Hades grabbed his massive metal club. With a sigh, he swung two critical blows. One strike struck Black. The force of the swing against a body his size made him fly high into the storm as if he was nothing more than an ace in the hole. The second blow was brought down on Bonegrinder’s head, caving in his skull, his brain, and his spinal cord. The concentrated explosion tore down the rest of his nerves along his massive coil. Hades sighed, carefully holding down Bonegrinder’s body. “.... You forced my hand. You stupid bastard. I didn’t want it to come to this. You should have listened to your heart and never should have come here. Now I have to play this disgusting role to its fullest depravity.”

Black had tried to rush forward to save Bonegrinder but Hades had swatted him away. The storm picked up the Wraith and threw him around, but he was still conscious. Finally, Black was able to grab onto a tower's spire and managed to climb inside. He was still here. He would find his way back to his master.

Bonegrinder, however, was out cold. Not moving. But still alive due to the deity inside of him.

“I know you can hear me, you wretched god. This is your doing. You denied me my most simple request. You brought my friend here. You allowed the gods and goddesses to fall out of Balance. My friend could have waited in the Hive while the world was recreated in blissful ignorance. But no. Now I must ensure he stays down for this.” Leere gurgled, a small cry leaving her throat, the Obelisk shining a light on her. Great new lengths had been taken to bring new conditions for the ritual, but it was finally done.

Bonegrinder was a creature of magic and violence when he desired. Sometimes, mere mistaken words or a careless action might agitate him into a rage. Many thought it was due to his split personality. The Anagari showed the side of his usual self, 'Modoc', and then other times, the true, cruel nature of 'Bonegrinder'. Yet, those who knew him throughout the years, had learned that he was one not to mess with or else there would be consequences. There was very little patience in the Anagari except for those he held dear.

Prama, for all his glory and splendor, had no patience. With Bonegrinder's mind silent from the blow to the head, the deity took over his host's body. The divinity inside of him was much stronger and could use his strength through the Anagari's body... but with some consequences for his host later. It was not an action he did often. Those large coils curled around Hades' body and one large hand snatched at the Lynel's throat. "Treacherous creature..." Prama's voice held no love for the creation of Dhakk. In full control, the Anagari's body was radiating powerful celestial magic, floating in particles around the snake. His eyes were glowing white, narrowed and angry. He always thought Lynels were rather haughty. And then one made the mistake of striking his host. "I will scald you into ash."

Hades opened his mouth, blasting the god in the face. His arms still free to move, he brought the power down on the body once more. “You could have resurrected my species! Instead you told me that they should stay dead. A being of creation too spineless to create! You should never have inhabited Modoc’s body!”

Squeezing tighter and tighter with the Anagari's coils, Prama did not let go. The deity did not feel pain. This was not his true body. His magic kept healing the damage. Returning a blow of his own to Hades' face, he kept repeating the same move, punch after strike after blow. "All things come to an end, and my brother is the one who decides that." Prama spat at Hades. "If you're angry about it, argue with him, not me. You should be grateful that the snake took you in, looked after you. Who else would have done so with a despicable species such as yourself?"

“You brought all his pain upon him. You... you alone.” Unlike the god, Sheer-Khan could not regenerate. The feline’s face looked like a tumour by the time that Prama was done. “Modoc would have... helped me. Now watch as you fail....” Before the Lynel went limp, he pointed to Leere.

~

Agony and suffering radiated through every nerve of Leere. Chanting echoed in the chamber, and brimstone sizzled from her back. With an explosion of blood and flesh, Leere’s eyes rolled back. From the pentagram on her back, something crawled out. The moment it did, two things happened. The night sky itself cracked open, bleeding the heavens. The second was that the sail of a baby rang out to all who heard it. As Leere fell to the ground, a little pinkish piece of flesh crawled on the ground. It had the upper body of a baby with its eyes sewn shut. Its lower body was a slug, flapping back and forth like a fish out of water. Every wail was cosmic torture to the ears. Schwanz des Teufels: Tyrannin was reborn into the mortal world.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626630162211028992/evils-bane-ch-9-everyone-has-something-to-lose

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626632248299536384/evils-bane-ch-11-rage-against-the-dying-of-the

[sasorikigai]

BLOOD TIES - Kamidogu Meta 

In the Red Dragon Temple somewhere in China (near Linxia), Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang) attempts to steal retrieve the Kamidogu Dagger for Lord Raiden. He is interrupted by Kano, as the Curse of the Kamidogu corrupts the cryomancer, giving him the character-defining scar on his right eye. After Kano comments about the nature of the Kamidogu Dagger, that Kuai Liang will be possessed by the Blood Code and for the curse to be broken, he would just have to kill himself - the possessed. Kuai Liang not only throws a frigid haymaker on Kano’s right hand - where his cyberized eye lays - but rips the device out and escapes. At this point, Kuai Liang would have only recently come back from being cyberized as Cyber Sub-Zero (LK-520), but as a Revenant of the Netherrealm alongside Scorpion also. The concept of death and his mortality is a double-edged sword, yet no panic sets in as Sub-Zero escapes, bloodied and corrupted. The agonizing whirlwind of the innocents who had died as their flesh becoming translucent, and being shattered like glass shards continue to haunt him again. 

It also showcases Kuai Liang’s stamina and resilience as a human cryomancer, capable of not only overwhelming Kano, who had been unmarred and having been in such advantageous position over him, but his unsurpassed cryomancy as well. As a hybrid of a Cryomancer and human, Sub-Zero controls the power of ice and cold effortlessly. He can generate cold ice by absorbing the surrounding air and releasing it as cold energy to freeze water vapor. By using his powers and creativity, he can create ice constructs of varying purposes, weapons being an example out of many. 

Meanwhile, as Hanzo Hasashi and Takeda Takahashi pushes on for the Sky Temple, they camp close as Hanzo witnesses the streaking lightning, along with the clouds that get too close. Corrupted Raiden comes crashing down from the skies, knocking Hanzo off his feet and electrocuting him, spilling the doctrines of the Blood Code. When Takeda interrupts and stabs Raiden from the back, Raiden also zaps him. 

In the Himalayas a few weeks ago, Hanzo contradicts what Takeda says as hellfire being not a style, but his curse; hellfire is a burden he has carried since the day everything changed for him. He sites that the last seconds of his life passed like hours, as the massacre of the Shirai Ryu was an outrage, but it was nothing compared to what his eyes held in those final moment. His beautiful family, frozen, as the village blazed around the Hasashi family. Hanzo prayed that ice would thaw, he prayed not to the Gods, but to the fire itself, for Harumi (Kana), his wife and Satoshi (Jubei), his innocent child. He died, but his soul kept praying for fire until Quan Chi answered. Fire did not burn him, and Quan Chi never controlled him, he was never his Revenant, but a volunteer; for his loss had become a fire within, and the dark sorcerer only stroked the flames with promises of justice and vengeance. 

Hellfire consumed my heart, my name, and my conscience. 

An Anti-Villain is the opposite of an Anti-Hero — a character with heroic goals, personality traits, and/or virtues who is ultimately the villain. His desired ends are mostly good, but his means of getting there range from evil to undesirable. Alternatively, his goals may be selfish or have long-term consequences he doesn’t care about, but essentially, Hanzo is a good person who might even team up with the hero if their goals don't conflict. In terms of personality, Hanzo Hasashi is shown to be kind-hearted and can be caring and honorable in nature, even towards their enemies, but it can be possible for them to treat their own allies with rudeness, which by its own accord, is a very unusual trait to possess. Moreover, compared to regular villains that are just simply evil, anti-villains are often neutral - depending on the writers of said characters. Those that are part of the neutral alignments however, aren't exactly benevolent, but they aren't malevolent either. As Scorpion, the Netherrealm’s hellspawn spectre, he would find vengeance, but not justice. The fire remained, and he would keep fighting, even after his life was restored. 

"Long is the way, and hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light."

Hanzo Hasashi is an atoner, who thinks he doesn’t deserve a second chance, after all the murders he’d committed willfully, a suicide in the form of hara-kiri. As in Japanese culture, traditionally suicide can be done to cleanse one's honor, as Hanzo would have struggled with the demons in his mind (Scorpion), swaying his temperaments, which makes him The Wild Card - who is a character so used to swinging between teams that they have no default "good" or "evil" character alignment or even a "home team." He truly is not interested in consistently remaining with either side, and will very often simply want both to leave them alone. He is the sort of person who will stay out of things entirely, until someone else (usually the hero or other sympathetic character) asks him for help (in this case, Raiden and Kenshi, who is ‘a wise man’ in the story, who saw Hanzo’s hellfire for what it was). 

Kenshi Takahashi was who saw through Hanzo’s shame, pain, loss that he couldn’t ever lose. And Hanzo still has to relive the moment of his own death when wielding hellfire, and has to risk destroying himself all over again every single time. Hanzo’s recovery would have been ungraceful, and feeling ephemeral, even as his grief and remorse claws at his throat. He wishes he could clam up his emotions and keep them safe, but he tends to wear his emotions on his sleeves as his hot-tempered impulsiveness and always choosing fight over flight when Hanzo’s own survival mechanism, enabling him to react quickly to life-threatening situations with offense, instead of defense. 

Hanzo completely dominates Raiden, even when Raiden is a demigod, obviously canonically proven to be stronger than him. Not only Hanzo blames Raiden for destroying the Second Shirai Ryu and killing Takeda, but the act of giving the Kamidogu Dagger to himself as well. It serves as Hanzo’s berserk button, which is one type of trigger, where the response to a minor or generally insignificant thing is one of extreme anger. That is, engaging the trigger turns an ordinary character into the berserker. The Berserker is a character who throws himself into a fight with such reckless abandon, it seems like he wants to die. It could be over-enthusiasm, overconfidence, unstoppable rage, or the desire to die (in battle). Whatever the cause, it's usually accompanied by a bellowing warcry (Hanzo’s characteristic baritone). Sometimes with total obliviousness to whether he's actually fighting the enemy.

And he never, ever retreats. This is only amplified by his paternal instincts towards Takeda, as agonizing pain and torment of losing too many continues to fuel his feral viciousness towards Raiden. All of this could be accumulated and summarized as love, which breaks the barriers between bodies and perhaps minds, as ouroboros of life and death encircles and becomes a repeated loop. He still manifests himself as a ghost, haunted by his own memory, bound to relive moments as if they are a means of a way out. The one shot at Hanzo’s own freedom and yet, still blinded enough to believe only in his tenacious, unyielding and resilient will that keeps him going all along, as Gods only exist to mess and ruin the course of his life and perhaps fate. 

Hanzo only stops his onslaught and assault when he finds out Takeda’s alive. Hanzo also doesn’t ever hold himself from speaking his mind, saying that Raiden WILL heal Takeda back to health with Jinsei - the Earthrealm’s life force - as Takeda fights for his life. The Kamidogu relates back to Shinnok’s Amulet; for the daggers serve as the keys, and each Kamigodu blade tested the blood of the one being, as its essence dwells within them. Raiden, in tne end, apologizes for not revealing the true nature of daggers’ perilous nature, as the Thunder God did not foresee a demon corrupting the blood magik. Raiden informs Hanzo that all of the other Kamidogu are accounted for, except the one stolen many years ago, which Sub-Zero happens to be in the possession of, as he has been corrupted with the Blood Code. Hanzo makes a promise that he will find Sub-Zero, dead or alive. 

"I knew I couldn’t kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. But if I could get them to kill each other …"

This only draws timeless stigma that has been rampant throughout the Mortal Kombat lore, as when Raiden shows up, people are bound to be dead (as proven with so many kombatants, including Liu Kang, Kung Lao and Hanzo Hasashi throughout the games), as Sub-Zero’s near-death which will come later in the comics, along with Hanzo and Kuai’s bitter rivalry, extended beyond as even with Hanzo’s resurrection, the bitter feud between Scorpion and Sub-Zero extends to their human counterparts, as this event takes way before MKX storyline. Fate had already been unkind to them, as they both turned evil, lest one was a volunteer, and one held at dark sorcery without volition. 

"It's difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It's a wonder I haven't abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart."

On the other hand, this continued rivalry may become a precursor that shows the unfurling events of the future, where they would develop a genuine friendship with the hero and perform a heel-face turn somewhere down the line. For Hanzo Hasashi’s morality was never at tabula rasa; for his intrinsic temperaments weren’t evil to begin with, as they both were pawns in Quan Chi’s malignant scheme to pin them forth as mortal rivals with misconstrued understandings.

[kiyabujayniah1996]

Reiki Images Creative And Inexpensive Unique Ideas

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Reiki Healing Classes

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Reiki Healing For Tinnitus

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[nerianasims]

penig replied to your post:

penig replied to your post: ...

I’m just afraid of you squandering your limited energy on fighting with and for abstract people when you need every bit of it for yourself. But you know your needs best.

Thank you. But believe it or not, this particular fight energizes me. It’s not like an argument with a friend or with someone I like or admire, which absolutely drains me. (That happened yesterday and it was not good.) And I am fighting for myself here too, not just other people.

Also, call it a preemptive strike. I’m putting my whole creative self into a fic right now about redeeming, mostly through romance, a bunch of fictional men who infamously did something really, really, REALLY wrong in a work based on notes by one of the most beloved authors of all time. It’s not like I have a choice to write something else -- for some reason, this is it. Plus when it comes to writing, I’m not kidding when I say spite helps fuel me.

I will do my best to tag future stuff about this though.

[hsactomega]

You know. Even if I enjoyed the Epilouges- I respect Act Omega. And follow it. Heavily. Because unlike so many other fan endings, Act Omega isn't made of bitter feelings and hate. Which I, personally, really like. It makes it more enjoyable to know it comes from a love of Homestuck and not hatred for it. So you know- Keep doing what you guys do.

I’m kind of disheartened that my earnest love for homestuck has kind of been tainted by the epilogues in that way. But like. In the end Act Omega still isn’t a spiteful story, even if my feelings are uhhhh. Complicated, lol.

I don’t think I could fuel any kind of decent creative energy with spite anyway. Not for very long, at least.