#inspired by the short story cousin reveal

[oikvw]

love that igeyorhm gets exclusive cousin rights to scold lahabrea

[the-iron-shoulder]

2020 cross stitch of Rubicant

[image description: a cross stitch on white aida cloth of a sprite of Rubicant, from Final Fantasy 4. He is a red, demonic figure wrapped in a bright red cloak with blue splotches. The text on it says “was it glam? I will show you how!” The word “glam” is significantly larger and fancier than the surrounding text. The photo is taken in sunlight, showing off how much of the floss used is metallic and/or glossy. End description.]

made this in 2020 for my cousin! It’s a riff on a line from Final Fantasy IV, specifically the SNES translation (which, as we all know, was not exactly a modern translation). In the game, the party is up against Rubicant, the Fiend of Fire. Rubicant reveals that he was responsible for some Bad Stuff involving a party member’s family; that party member gets furious and (on the spot) learns a fire spell because of that anger, which he immediately casts at Rubicant. Since Rubicant is immune to fire, he just shrugs it off, tossing out a (maybe not perfectly translated) line that I absolutely love: “Was it Flame? I will show you how!”

(I think a more modern translation would be something like “you call that fire magic? Let me show you how it’s done!” but that doesn’t resonate with me the way the original does.)

Anyway, Rubicant’s sprite changes over the course of the battle, and in one of his two poses he’s sticking this weirdly muscular leg out of his cloak like he’s Louis XIV of France making sure that his portrait painter shows off his exquisite calves. Long story short, that inspired the text on this piece. Was it glam? I will show you how!

The photo kind of shows off the fact that this piece is SHINY. I used a lot of satin floss and a lot of metallic floss for different parts of it, so this thing straight up gleams in the right light. I think that’s appropriate for the vibe I was aiming for!

[velvetvexations]

Blue Conrad is Not a Good Man

I thought I'd post the first ever story I wrote for what would eventually become my setting. This was originally a backstory piece for a character I was playing in a Trophy Dark game GM'd by the amazing and lovely tricksterkisses. It's no longer what I'd consider "canon" and I've retired from submitting it, but it still has some importance to me.

This is a historical horror piece. Reference is made to slavery and Native American genocide, but are not the focus. CW for gore, ableism, suicide, and implied sexual assault.

You are no doubt aware, dearest readers, of the assertion that Blue Conrad is not a good man. Even in the United States of America, the land I don’t think it controversial to say is the most favored by our divine Father, contrarians and iconoclasts bandy about whispers undermining the hope, unity, and strength that Conrad, the most spectacular of frontier heroes, inspires in all of us. However, knowing the high regards with which our readership adores him, we may shock you by unreservedly agreeing with that statement, for Blue Conrad is not a good man. He is the very definition of a great man! Anything less is a slander that must be stamped out, and for that purpose we have put together a short overview of a life larger than legend.

Of course, Blue Conrad shares this present century with several men of great renown, whom we all owe so much. James Bowie, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson – and yet they all pale in comparison to the truth of Blue Conrad’s life. We believe that by the end of this tale, you will understand why we rate Conrad above them all.

We will start by saying it is naught but fanciful imagination that began the rumor Conrad was hatched from a rattlesnake egg boiled in wolf’s blood. Alistair “Blue” Conrad was actually born in a small cabin in Arkansas six miles from the nearest town. His father, John Conrad, was a veteran of the US Army while his mother, Anwen Reese, was a Welsh immigrant. Shortly after Alistair’s birth, he was blessed with a sister whom they called Blodwen, and in the short time they had together they were a happy family.

Though his father had survived more close shaves with the reaper’s scythe than can be counted, the man tragically caught his death one winter when his family needed him the most. This led to Alistair, at fourteen summers, being sent off quite a ways to work as a hired hand on the estate of Ezekiel Scabbard, cousin to the local preacher. Scabbard was an unruly, ugly old cuss who had no patience for a child shipped to him by a relative he forgot existed, but workers were in short supply and with Conrad’s family days of travel away, the miser saw a situation he would be able to exploit. In this way Conrad would support his mother and sister, though he would never see them again after waving goodbye.

The farm work was hard, and Scabbard cruel, but young Alistair persevered as his he imagined his father did in battle. Shortly after his arrival, Scabbard fired the rancher to which Alistair was apprenticed, placing all the responsibilities upon the young boy. Though technically he was no pitiful slave like those who toiled in Scabbard’s fields, Conrad personally received none of his pay. It would be three years until Conrad discovered his family had perished the winter after his arrival to the ranch. Scabbard seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely. Indeed, it has been attested by a credible witness that at one point before his villainy was revealed to Conrad, Scabbard had been asked by the sweat-soaked, sun-baked youth about his family, and Scabbard seemed to truly not remember any such arrangement ever existed.

After the truth came out, one would expect Conrad to have burnt the place down, striking down those who stood in his way until at last he arrived at the heart of the mansion to put a bullet straight through the head of the ghastly old devil, if you’ll forgive my expression. But he did not. Conrad simply took the man’s finest horse and vanished into the night. Scabbard was outraged, of course, but with the hostilities between the North and South on the verge of spilling over, he had bigger things to worry about up until his shockingly brutal death in a slave rebellion.

Some say the horse’s name was Starchaser, Lightning Legs, or if the teller is particularly ostentatious, Swift King. Actually, Conrad himself cannot remember, for rather than the lifelong companion depicted in the dime novels, he had it sold under the table to a business rival of Scabbard’s almost immediately upon arriving in the next town over. As soon as the sale was complete, he took the next train as far away as possible and has never endeared himself to any beast enough to give it a name in the years since.

Taking up any odd job he could, Conrad continued to grow big and strong, and in his free time honed his instincts to become a hunter-trapper hat would have made the great Artemis swoon. His reputation would stay contained to those he worked alongside and the wives he was occasionally accused of having seduced if not for the night four men cornered him in a back alley.

With the war hot and burning, men who did not join either cause were seen as cowards, despite the need for work for which women could not substitute. Conrad, somewhat absurdly, seemed to have had no interest in the killing of men! The young ladies of in the town of Jewel, where Conrad worked as a logger for a time, couldn’t help but find this powerful young man, with such a sweet and sensitive soul, to be a welcome reprieve from the boorish drunks. Conrad had even less interest in romance than he did war, but the longing he left in every girl’s eyes was enough to rile the town into a frenzy.

That frenzy would come to a thrilling climax when four other loggers cornered him at the end of one work day as they all made their way back to the beds with itchy blankets and stiff pillows. One carried a gun, two others an ax, and the last a hammer that could crack a man’s skull open like a chocolate treat filled with cherry syrup. The men were furious with Conrad, who outshone them in every way one could imagine, taking his solitary and quiet nature as further insult.

Were he literate, he might have been a writer of great novels, or been a journalist to rival Mark Twain, but the specific nature of Conrad’s talents kept him a big fish in a small pond. Now the little fish were growing restless. The tellers of tales do not include that the men were had each drained quite a large amount of liquor, but this omission we will not blame the gossips for, as we have a monopoly on access to the only first-hand accounts other than Conrad himself.

You’re no doubt well-aware of what happened. Most tellings are more or less accurate. He tried to ignore them. He was shoved backwards. They charged. He cleared leather faster than a hummingbird could flap it’s wings. What mattered was the change it stirred in him, subtle but important. Conrad had not been shy to violence before, but it was only then that he understood it for all that it was and wasn’t. Before, he would occasionally brawl as young men often do, but no more. Drunken fools or not, they had almost killed him. From now on, when violence came to Alistair Conrad, it ended as soon as it had begun.

After that, Conrad put on the blue uniform and guarded gold shipments heading east to support the Union’s war effort. It was here that he was to gain his next brush with fame. On one cold night as they lay at camp, one of the other two men escorting the cart was shot clean through the head, spraying a splatter of brain and bone onto the freezing grass. Conrad was quickest to react, diving behind cover with his gun. The other remaining guard, Marion Lord, was right behind him, but a musket ball smashed into Lord’s kneecap and sent him face first into the ground just short of the cover Conrad had taken.

“I will never forget the sight,” Lord would write after the war, his injury having made him pathetically useless to do anything other than reminisce for profit, “of Alistair popping out from behind that rock with his rifle and firing shots one after another. From my position I could see him reloading, and the speed with which he did so took my breath away. Yet, watching him move so quickly, I knew it must be impossible for him to be hitting anything, and even had he all the time in the world, we were surrounded by darkness blacker than could be believed. It was hypnotizing to watch and briefly took my mind from the pain in my knee, but I stayed mired in fear until he stopped, calmly stepped out from behind the boulder, and after making sure no one had survived his one-man counter-battery, began to treat my wounds without worry of enemy fire.”

Conrad killed no less than nine men that day. What amazing acts of carnage he could have performed had the war lasted longer we can only imagine, for alas, it was over all too soon. Having nowhere to return to, Conrad soon took an assignment to Fort Poe in Christland, California where he was, to his immense confusion, considered a war hero by all he met. As you are reading this humble publication, we’re sure the first ‘Poe’ to come to your mind is the author of delightful tales that one can’t help but be tingled with joy by. In fact, the fort was named for Edgar Allen’s grandfather, a quartermaster who was of great value during the Revolutionary War. What an astounding coincidence! There could not have been a greater foreshadowing of fate.

This would lead to Alistair’s more well-known moniker, as Fort Poe sat next to Lake Pantheon, which is known far and wide as the California Cerulean for it’s famous blue hue. Although Conrad never sough to capitalize on his deeds, his fame spread quickly when a gift from the wealthy Lord family arrived with a letter to the local newspaper. The letter declared that Alistair Conrad had been Marion’s ‘angel in blue’, and that when he heard of his friend’s latest posting he made up his mind to include with five-hundred dollars a revolver whose steel had been created and beautifully blued by the famous Von Herder, a blind German rightly considered one of the greatest gunsmith to have lived thanks to the thousands of dead men to his credit. All at once the name “Blue” came as though it sprung up from the ground, and his fame was sealed.

Although he ever really wanted was to continue breathing another day, gossip and commercial fiction has worked hard to convince the world he was an adventurer who sought out women to seduce and buried treasure to give to the needy. Alistair Conrad was but a man of flesh and bone, but Blue Conrad was one of blood and thunder. Children everywhere read chronicles of his life unaware his name was the only non-fictional element, with the exception of some that state 'Blue' as the one given at birth. Boys wanted to be just like him. Girls, meanwhile, promised themselves they’d never settle for a man lesser than the one described in those cheap and occasionally borderline pornographic booklets.

One fact that has never before been recorded in print is that Blue Conrad was married, for a short while, to a young Native woman who had taken the Christian name Sarah. She’d lived nearby, and after Blue left the army, he moved her to the nearby settlement that sat next to the lake and they were married. We have not, unfortunately, been able to interview her ourselves, as she was put beyond our reach long ago when she died in a raid by Natives that took with it the lives of both Fort Poe and the neighboring settlement in their entirety.

Only Conrad was spared that faithful day, for he had been out hunting. When he discovered what had happen, he went positively mad with sorrow, guilt, and most of all, a burning anger. I can only lament the misfortune that none of this publication’s handsomely talented artists were there to capture the scene in all it’s details. Conrad surely knew he hadn’t the slightest hope of finding his wife alive the second he saw the bodies left to rot in the street, but it was only upon finding Sarah’s still corpse that his mind truly snapped in two. With but the pull of a switch, Blue Conrad transformed into an inhuman machine of a man, for what shreds of his heart had survived the long years since his father’s death had been skewered by the same arrow that caught his wife.

When he arrived at a nearby logging camp, they considered retribution to be common sense, the kind of rage they all had for the senseless slaying of their kin, but they could not know the depths of fury that whirled in Blue Conrad like a twister of hellfire. Despite their miming of indignation, they treated the violence they visited on a quite helpless and completely unrelated tribe to be little more than a fun diversion, an afternoon spent gladly balancing the scales of life and death as Manifest Destiny commanded.

It was not so for Blue Conrad, who always killed dispassionately in the past simply to end a threat. From a distance that would have seemed as true as ever, for he crossed the bloodied ground like a man built from clockwork. To look him in the eyes, however, would reveal to you the tempest in his soul that drove him to perform such obscenely gorgeous violence. It didn’t matter that they were not the Natives the revenge had been intended for. Blue himself suspected something was amiss with the identification of their targets, but he let the suspicion die under the weight of his wrath.

That tempest did not leave him for quite some time, the sun rising and setting on a man who felt half-alive, doing the bare minimum to continue his heart’s beating. No words were spared for anyone, especially not those who came seeking a frontier celebrity. The most that could be gotten out of the great Blue Conrad was a stare that never failed to communicate the sincere warning that he would blow their brains into a puddle of pink soup if they didn’t leave him be.

That changed at last when a man by the name of Marcus Pike came to the house Conrad built next to Lake Pantheon, where he spent his years as the only living human for miles. The man was begging for help. Pike’s bride had been taken by outlaws on the day of their wedding, and the ransom was ruinous. He knew that only Blue Conrad could save her.

Indeed, it seemed so much like the plot of one of those grotesque little novels that it feels strange to call it the truth, and yet it really happened, and the situation had a quite curious effect on Conrad. Color came rushing back to his face as he heard Pike’s story. The tempest was gone, or at least finally beginning to die. Now there was once again a twinkle in his eye that had vanished the day he lost his wife. Conrad always despised the fame that hounded him, the lies, the romantic words written by men who had never seen a man die.

Now it gave him purpose.

The journey was effortless, for he knew the area well enough to have a good idea of where a gang of outlaws would wish to hide, and the details given by Pike narrowed it down to a gulch only a day’s ride away. With genuine interest, he pressed the groom to tell him of his bride, and the man joked that if Conrad wanted her for himself, it would not be difficult for such a hero to steal his love away from him.

“I swear, I wouldn’t!” Conrad laughed. “But we might die, and I’d like to know what I was dying for. Now that ain’t so much to ask, is it?”

“No, I suppose not!” Marcus Pike laughed in turn, and he told Conrad of her golden hair, her pale skin, her bright blue eyes. So much of her was unlike Sarah, and yet the love between her and her husband-to-be was so familiar that it brought tears to his eyes. You may not believe it, but it’s true. Blue Conrad was crying. Not weeping like a woman or wailing like an infant, but at last he could feel his spirit returning to a fraction of warmth he believed forever lost to him.

The next morning, Conrad and Pike made their move. There was only five outlaws. One was killed as he slept on sentry duty, two more were struck down in the gunfight that followed, and with the odds evened out and hearing it who it was they exchanged bullets with, the last two put down their guns and consented to being tied with rope. It was a trivial exercise.

Despite the quick and thorough victory, however, spoils were not as they had hoped. Inside one of the tents, they found the man’s wife, cold and dead, chained by the ankles. Her clothes were torn to shreds, she was covered in bruises, and a knife was buried in her chest

The next thing Conrad knew, Marcus Pike was pulling him from the badly beaten outlaws, still tied up and unable to resist the savage assault he had been delivering to the now almost unrecognizable men.

“Look man, my God! She plunged the knife into her own heart!” Pike shouted. “She killed herself! The faithless whore ended her own life, in shame for her sins with these criminals! Were we married she would have ruined my name!”

There was a sickening crack then. A few, actually, as Pike’s jaw had come unhinged, and teeth could be seen streaking through the air trailing a cloud of blood and saliva. Those two remaining outlaws had given up for fear of Blue Conrad. Neither could help but think they had not known what true fear was, let alone true fear of Blue Conrad, until they watched the dashing hero put his fist nearly clean through his friend’s face and with the new target of his fury laid out on his back delivered blows that could be compared to an elephant’s stomping foot.

Soon Pike’s eyes were pounded to uselessness, and the pain was too overwhelming to think coherently, but the very air he breathed was thick with hatred that spoke to him of his immanent and very painful demise. He could do nothing as he was bound the same as the criminals, and all three could only watch in horror as Conrad went to acquire firewood.

Oh, readers, how I wish I could have seen it. Just as Conrad drew his matches, the sky filled with dark clouds thick with rain. It was as if He Who Cast Our Father Out were pleading for Conrad to reconsider and show mercy, but Conrad simply waited out that grotesque bastard they call 'God' and sat staring at them until the rain had cleared, the men falling into deeper panic as his gaze bored into them.

After the deed was done, Conrad bade his horse to run in any direction it wished, and it did, into oblivion for all he cared. We do not know where he will end up in the short term, but we can only hope, friends, fellows, and Lords of Hell, that the pain and misery follows. As for where he will end up at the end of it all? Well, I would suggest you begin sharpening your knives now. We have quite the feast to look forward to, far exceeding the pitiful spirits he’s fed to us with every blackguard who died at his hand.

In conclusion, if you do not think Blue Conrad is a great man, rich with sin to wet our beaks, simply think back to all that I’ve written here, and the growling of your stomach will surely change your mind.

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

Blue Conrad was heavily based on the real life Kit Carson, who really did lead the massacre of a tribe unrelated to the crime that instigated it. On another occasion, he set out to rescue a woman, only to find her captors had already killed her, and that she carried with her a dime novel of his fictionalized adventures when she died.

[rudnitskaia]

Im desperately withholding the urge to ask like 13 questions for romauncebut ive narrowed it down to 3, 6, 18 and 19

Hey-hey, Edd! ✨

Thank you for your wonderful ask again! I'm very grateful for the inspiration and the opportunity you gave me to reveal more of the RoMaunce story. 💖

I decided to write and post the ficlets for the remaining part of your ask all at once. I remember you wanted a drawing for № 18, and I will certainly do it in the end of May / beginning of June (only from Rocky's perspective and containing that bonus part of the question), but now I want to cover it at least with a short story. :3

So, here they are, the ficlets for questions № 3, № 6 and № 18 from that list in the chronological (for the characters) order.

№ 18 - Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

A Real Unicorn

“Oh, Rocky, what a—” Ivy stopped short when she noticed that the pieces of paper she had picked up from the floor beneath the table where Calvin and Rocky had been sitting just a moment ago weren't trash, but… notes.

A pile of small, tightly crumpled notebook sheets, all neatly handwritten in pencil. It was unlikely that anyone had ever given Rocky an assignment on paper, and Calvin also had no reason to write so often to the cousin whom he saw every day. Maybe Rocky wrote down poetry that way? Though it would have been a bit of a stretch to assume that he was that meticulous. Ivy stroked the sheets with her fingers. Were they really valuable, since Rocky kept them with him, or did he just put them in his pocket and then forget to throw them away? It wasn't that important, actually. It was better to just return the loss… but curiosity eventually got the better of Ivy.

Forgetting about the plates and cups, she began to read the lines, puzzled to find a strange list of orders from the cafeteria. Pizzas, pastas, salads, coffee… no, Ivy didn't see anything surprising in the fact that Rocky might have dined somewhere else besides Little Daisy, but why did he keep the notes that the waitresses usually made for the kitchen?

She wondered about that until she accidentally turned over one of the sheets.

What she saw was hard to comprehend. With each new word, Ivy's gaze grew more excited. Her heart beat more frequently. Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

She didn't stop until she had read them all, from beginning to end, but even then she couldn't believe it. Ivy sat back in the chair and stared at the wall.

What was more likely? That Rocky had completely lost his mind and over and over again was writing himself tender endearments and, for some reason, wishes of bon appétit, in the same thin handwriting that listed the orders on the back side of the sheets, or that he had a… no, it couldn't be. It seemed ridiculous to even try to imagine.

After all, if somewhere in the world there existed a woman who willingly writes such words to Rocky Rickaby, then somewhere in St. Louis might as well live a real unicorn.

№ 3 - Most common argument?

The Chains That Are Too Short

“Someday I'll steal you away for more than a couple hours, and then we'll get really entertained,” Rocky chuckled, helping Mau roll up the blanket. Another night under the stars in St. Louis was coming to an end.

“Really? Are you planning something for a whole three hours?” quipped Maura at him.

“I was rather hoping for something between fifty years and forever,” Rocky shrugged, picking up his violin case. “And then it is as it goes. You know, all that happily ever after, but… livelier. With a bit of sparks here and there.”

“Hmm. So, you’re going to take me, like a princess, away on a white horse to your sugar castle in the kingdom beyond the clouds, and we'll live in love and harmony, become exemplary neighbors, start paying our taxes, have a bunch of obnoxious kids and die the same day.”

“Why not?” Rocky seemed not to notice her sarcasm. “Yes, the script is old-fashioned, but it's proven by both time and folklore. It's almost a guide to action, if you know how to apply folk wisdom properly. And if we dig deeper into the poetry of feudal Europe, we can probably find a couple or three good tips even about paying taxes.”

“Maybe so, but unfortunately, happy fairytales are now left only as an exception and only on the stages of theaters. And you and I don't have enough for a single ticket even together,” Mau started to walk toward the fire escape, but Rocky caught up with her and took her by the arm. Her words, or rather what was clearly between the lines, made his heart feel totally uneasy.

“Mau… I can get some money. I…”

“It's not about money, Roark,” she sighed. “Or rather, it's not just about them. You know it well already…” she took only a step before Rocky stopped her again.

“Come with me,” he blurted out anxiously.

“Where to?”

“In general! Now! We could live together…”

“You sleep in a car. Which isn't even yours.”

“If I rearrange a few things, we both could fit in there. And I could give the cactus to Freckle…”

“Roark…”

“And… and! And I could also ask Miss M. about a job for you. Sooner or later things will get better at Lackadaisy, and… what if we could rent a room together?”

“That's the very problem. I can't be seen anywhere in criminal circles. My father and I are being chased, and rumors will definitely spread if I show up in the underground, and then… then my father and I will have to run away again, and if anyone finds out that you and I are together… Dio mio, don't you realize they'll kill you?”

Rocky quietly groaned and started pacing back and forth. He was almost shaking from nerves. Mau, meanwhile, continued, oblivious to the need to speak in a low voice:

“These thugs are not going to stop at anything to get us. It's bad enough that you're at odds with the locals, so I pray every night that you'll at least stay alive after your ventures, and I don't want to bring the New York Mafia down on you too! This is madness, Roark! I told you many times, I can't be seen with you while you're in the bootlegging business. Maybe we could rent a shabby little room somewhere if you were just a musician, but you ain't, and you ain't going to be!”

In despair, Rocky flailed his arms.

“But I can't! I can't leave Miss M.! I can't—”

“I know,” Mau interrupted him. “And I'm not asking you to. But you can't tease me with a bright future either… It's too much even for me. We're alive, and we have each other, here and now, and that's more than I could ever hope for. Please, just be with me while it's possible…”

Rocky still couldn't calm down. He was breathing erratically, heavily… when Mau stepped closer to him and gently embraced him, he pulled her against him so tightly that she involuntarily sighed. He was sickened by how right she was. His entire being was rebelling against that rightness, wanting to burn that truth to the ground and recreate his own, happy truth from the ashes, whatever risks it took. The seconds lingered… Rocky didn't unclench his hands. Anything to keep Mau in his arms now… anything to avoid going back into the night alone.

But the chains bound to them were too short to allow them to reach the morning.

Interesting fact: The question № 3 was the hardest for me to explore, because for me Rocky and Mau are not the couple that has many constant, repetitive topics to argue about. At first I thought to write about Rocky ignoring his health issues, because that definitely would've got Maura's nerves, but that topic becomes a 'constant argument' only in the distant future from the Lackadaisy current timeline. But finally, I found the topic that is definitely difficult for them both and may cause repetitive uneasy discussions. I hope it covered the question.

№ 6 - What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

The Serenity in You

The Epigraph: When stars drown in the night and the storm fills your mind, it's important to find the safe haven to hide…

The summer heat in the car was becoming unbearable. Rocky felt as if he was drowning in the dense air, almost as much as in his own thoughts. Whenever he was able to doze off, fears and memories began to flood his mind, to crash over him in suffocating waves. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Rocky found Maura's hand, gently intertwining their fingers together. Even back then, when he hadn't had the courage to tell her about his feelings, she had taken his hand in hers so often that it had become almost a sacred act for Rocky. She didn't even seem to realize how every time they were sitting or standing in front of each other she began to stroke the back of his hand… and how much peace, serenity even, that gentle touch brought him.

Suddenly he heard a whisper:

“What are you thinking about?”

Rocky slightly shivered from tension. What he was thinking about… he wished he didn't know himself. Keeping his eyes shut, he mumbled:

“Ah, it's nothing. You know, there's a pesky streetlight out there, and its reflection in the window keeps me awake…”

Mau was silent for a while, and only turned slightly on her side, resting her head on his chest.

“I love hearing your voice, Roark. Falling asleep listening to the tune you hum and the sound of your heartbeat. It's soothing… almost like the sound of the rain outside the window, only… much warmer. Dearer. But when your heart beats like this… like how it beats now… I want to know what makes it so heavy.”

Once again, the nightmares that had haunted him became clearer in his mind. He hesitated; he was uncomfortable with these ugly thoughts himself, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make Mau sink into them, too. But when she gently, yet confidently squeezed his hand in hers again, his doubts receded. She was here, right next to him. And as long as she touched his fingers with hers, they would not drown in this boundless sea. So finally, gently leaning his cheek against the top of Maura's head, Rocky began to speak.

[mysteriousbp]

Oh, so Lila also met snowdrakes dad, I wonder what that story went. Also Melody met ghost Mettaton? When did she find time to do that between being, you know, hunted down and killed by Axis? (Unless it was in the ruins)

Snowdrake's father isn't really one of the main characters in Lila's journey. He's more like... The Napstablook of the journey. Someone you fight and know more about in optional stuff that isn't obligatory.

But in game sense, he's like Gyftrot. A one-off enemy that isn't a boss or a miniboss that you only fight once.

He's here to bring an Undertale mechanic justice. (At least I think I'm doing that...)

That mechanic, being the yellow descriptions during the true pacifist credits.

The yellow descriptions are better endings for the non-main-cast monsters that you fight. By doing specific acts, you can make their pacifist endings better. For exemple: If you use the act "Don't pick on" on Loox, he will become a reformed bully in the credits description, but if you don't, he will still be a bully.

The player's actions have more meaning than just sparing them or killing them. Your actions affect them in personal ways.

That's what I want to show with Snowdrake's father in Lila's journey. In my AU, during the time that Lila's journey happened, Snowdrake's father was having a hard time keeping a job to support his family. He was just walking, trying to think of what he could do, until he ran into Lila. He then starts a fight with her because of the new law against humans, thinking maybe he could get a reward from the guard to get his family by until he gets another job. But during the fight, he makes a joke by accident, and Lila laughs at the joke. He then stops attacking and tries more jokes, and Lila keeps laughing at them. That's when the fight stops and Snowdrake's father gets the inspiration to be a comedian.

And if you know Undertale, you know that Snowdrake's father is a comedian working for Mettaton in canon. In my AU Lila's actions affected Snowdrake's father life for the better.

That's what I want to show. How these kids interactions with random monsters affect those monsters lives. Because in the fandom, especially UTY, it is always how Frisk/Clover affect the lives of the main cast. But what about the random monsters they met? How do these kids actions affect them. Because that's something that I feel that some of the fandom ignores. Undertale isn't just a game of mercy and fighting... It's a game of actions and how that affects the world around you.

And about Mettaton. Yeah, Melody, meet him in the Ruins. I just wanted to give Melody one monster friend who isn't a normal enemy. Before the Snowdin accident.

And since there isn't really anyone special exclusive to the Ruins other than Toriel.

And only ghosts and monsters that can burrow under the door can enter and leave the ruins. (That's probably why Vegetoids are the only Ruin monsters that are fused in the Amalgamates)

So I had my choices cut short. So between the ghost cousins, I decided to use Mettaton.

First of all, because Mettaton likes dancing, it just made sense. Second of all, because in Undertale, Napstablook was in the Ruins because they wanted to be alone, and Mad Dummy/Mad Mew Mew was in that lock room in the switch version because she also wanted to be alone. So I wanted to be a theme between the cousins that they liked to be alone for some moments at some point in their ghost lives. And because it's just interesting, one of the kids knowing who Mettaton was before he was a robot. Because I'm pretty sure he never reveals his true identity to anyone after pacifist. So it would be funny, Melody, to have to keep that fact a secret.

[aedesluminis]

26 for the ask game （╹◡╹）

26. Forgotten hero everyone should know about

This could have been a perfect occasion to talk about Claude-Antoine Prieur again, but given that I plan to devote him many future posts on my blog, I thought it would have been more appropriate to use this ask to share my knowledge about an important and unfortunately still rather unknown STEM personality, who truly inspired me when I was a young student. I'm referring to Sophie Germain.

Born in Paris in 1776, Sophie was one of the rare mathematiciennes of the 18th-19th century. She had her first approach with mathematics during the days of the storming of the Bastille, when it was too dangerous for a young 13 years old girl to go outside. To pass the time, she turned to her father's library and a book named "Histoire des mathématiques" by Jean-Étienne Montucla captured her interest. The story of Archimedes narrated in the book fascinated her deeply, eventually leading her to start studying mathematics on her own through the works by famous mathematicians like Euler, Newton, Cousin. Her interest and dedication to the discipline was so strong, that during winter, when her parents denied her warm clothes and a fire in her bedroom to prevent her from studying she kept doing it anyway despite the cold; at the time maths wasn't considered appropriate as a studying discipline for a woman.

When the Polytechnic school opened in 1794, women couldn't attend, but the policy of the school allowed to everyone, who asked for them, notes of the lectures. She requested them under the pseudonym of Antoine-Auguste Le Blanc, a former student who had dropped out. Given that, as a student of the Polytechnic school, one was expected to send written observations about the lectures - a sort of homework - Germain wrote and sent hers to Joseph-Louis Lagrange, one of the teachers and renowned mathematician. The latter was so positively impressed by her essays that requested a meeting with the brilliant student LeBlanc, who unexpectedly had improved so much. She was then forced to reveal her identity. Lagrange was pleasantly surprised to realize Monsieur Le Blanc was in reality a young and talented woman and decided to support her, becoming her mentor.

One of her most noteworthy contribution to mathematics was in number theory, where she proved a special case of the so-called Last Fermat's Theorem (1), which has remained one of the hardest mathematical theorems to prove for more than three centuries and whose final proof was actually found only in 1994 by Andrew Wiles. Other important works of hers include treatises on elastic surfaces, one of which, Recherches sur la théorie des surfaces élastiques, awarded her a prize from the Paris Academy of Science in 1816.

Although she often faced prejudice for being a woman, Germain was praised and also supported by various well-known mathematicians of the time. Some of them include the aforementioned Lagrange, Legendre, who thanks to her work on the Fermat's theorem, was able to prove it for another special case; Cousin himself, Fourier, who managed to grant her the permission to follow the sittings held at the Paris Academy of science and last, but obviously not least, the great Gauss, who after Germain's death advocated for giving her an honorary degree in mathematics.

Notes

(1) In short, the Last Fermat's Theorem asserts that for n > 2 there are no integer solutions to the following equation:

with a, b, c being positive integers. Sophie Germain proved the theorem for all numbers n equal to a prime p, so that 2p + 1 is also prime. The whole thing is much more complex that how I explained it, my aim was to write down a simple intoduction. If you want to read more about that I recommend you this link.

[misscongeniality18]

request for peter sutherland x reader and she has very low self esteem. readers family isnt very supportive and maybe at like a family gathering someone in her family makes an offensive joke at readers expense and peter defends her?

Of course! I hope you don't mind me using a bit of my own past with family members as inspiration, and that it's not exactly an offensive joke, more like an offensive opinion/observation? Anyway, enjoy!

Perfect - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! You and Peter go to your family's monthly get-together, where your family continuously judges you. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Fluff, some angst Warnings ! Judgemental/unsupportive family members, reader has body/self-esteem issues, social alcohol consumption Word Count - 1454

" When you said you looked a mess I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it Darling you look perfect tonight " - Perfect, Ed Sheeran

Masterlist Request Guide

You gripped Peter's hand tightly while smoothing out your dress. Today was the day that you were bringing him to meet your family. Every month, your family would meet at your parent's house for dinner and to catch up. To everyone else, it was a lovely tradition that started with your great-grandparents and was passed on through the generations, but to you, it was a nightmare that you dreaded each month.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Peter asked you as the two of you walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

You sighed, trying to keep your clammy palms dry. "I'm just preparing myself. Are you sure this dress looks okay?"

"You look great," Peter said, furrowing his brows at your sudden anxiety. The door opened, revealing your mother in her best sweater set and pearls. "Y/N, darling! I'm so glad you could make it this time. You must be Peter. I've heard a lot about you."

Your mother was warm and friendly, just like the home she worked so tirelessly to keep. She was a teacher at the local community college, and you admired how dedicated she was to her job.

Your mother led you and Peter inside while calling for your father. Your siblings were gathered in the living room, their own significant others sitting at their sides. Your aunts and uncles were there as well, and so were a few of your cousins.

Your mother led the introductions, and Peter shook everyone's hand in turn. So far, things were going well, but the pounding in your chest never left. You were squeezing Peter's hand tightly, holding him close to you. Out of everything in the world, only Peter could keep you grounded.

"So, Peter, what is it that you do?" Your father asked, handing Peter a beer. You sipped your own drink, preferring one of the fruity seltzers.

Peter was relaxed, sitting next to you on the couch. "I'm an FBI agent. I'm currently on a classified assignment in the White House."

"Wow, that's impressive. Must pay pretty big bucks for that, huh?" Your father joked. "Well, it's nothing like being a writer, right Y/N?"

You bit your lip to keep yourself from speaking. If you did, you would lash out. Your father had never been supportive about your choice in career.

Still, your father continued, ignoring the annoyed sighs from your siblings. They knew his habits as well. "I mean, being a writer is a nice hobby, but it's not realistic as a stable career."

"Actually," Peter interrupted. "Y/N has had several short stories published, and her first novel is getting considered for a book deal. "

Before anyone could say anything, a voice called from the kitchen that dinner was ready.

You instantly stiffened. Peter felt you go rigid, and he glanced at you with concern. His eyes were asking if everything was alright, but you didn't have time to answer as everyone went into the dining room.

Your grandmother stood at the dining table adding the finishing touches to the spread that she and your mother created. "Y/N, you're here!"

Your grandmother rushed around the table to hug you tightly. When she released you, she eyed your dress with a frown. "Is that dress the right size? It's making you look bigger."

After taking a deep breath, you stiffly turned to Peter. "Grandma, this is Peter, my boyfriend. He's an FBI agent."

"Oh!" Your grandmother gave Peter a hug and showed him to a place at the table. "That must include a lot of training to keep you fit. Does Y/N join you at the gym?"

"No, Grandma, I don't. I—"

Before you could continue with that you go to a yoga class every week, your grandmother interrupted you. "Oh, darling, you should. You look like you're getting heavier."

She walked away from you then, and you bit your lip as you sat down next to Peter. He took your hand, giving you comfort. "I see why you don't like coming home," he whispered to you.

You nodded in agreement as the food was getting passed around. Peter was asked more questions, but he always brought the conversation back to supporting you.

But eventually, your grandmother began to go on a tangent about you. "I loved having Y/N stay with me while she completed college, but I always thought to myself, what can she really do with a degree in English literature? You would think that she'd become a teacher or something, but no, she wants to be a writer. It is admirable, I suppose, but how does she just become a writer? What does she have to do?"

Peter took a sip of water. "I mentioned this in the living room, but she's had several stories published, and she's really talented—"

"Are you going to eat all that?" Your grandmother interrupted, seeing the amount of food on your plate.

You looked down at your plate blankly. A helping each of meat, potatoes, and green beans, and a roll with butter on the side. You turned back to your grandmother hesitantly. "Yes?"

"Oh my. That's not going to help the figure, is it?"

The table was uncomfortably silent with the occasional clink of silverware against plates, but your grandmother still continued.

"Why don't you take care of yourself, Y/N? You have such a pretty face, don't you want a body to match?"

There was a sudden thud coming from your left as Peter forcefully set his water glass down. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before placing it on the table, pushing his chair back. "I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

"You're leaving?" Your grandmother asked in shock.

"Yes," Peter replied, helping you from your chair and taking your hand. "I'd stay, but I can't stand listening to you insult the woman I love any longer. She is beautiful and smart and so incredibly talented. I wish I had a fraction of what she has, but I don't. You've all praised me for my job, but you know what I really do? I monitor a phone for eight hours that doesn't even ring! Mrs. Y/L/N, thank you for the meal. I hope to see you again soon."

Peter thanked your mother before stalking out of the dining room and through the front door.

Your mother sighed, turning to your grandmother. "Mom, he's right. You can't keep talking to Y/N like that. And you," she said, turning to your father. "No more making wisecracks about Y/N's job."

"Okay, okay. Honey, I'm sorry," your father apologized to you. You gave him a warm smile. After all, his comments were mainly poor-taste jokes. But your grandmother's...

"Grandma, I'm not obsessed with my weight like you are. Yes, I know I'm bigger than average, but I eat right, and I exercise almost daily, it's just that I have to find the right things that fit me. Eating salads and running ten miles a day doesn't work for me," you said, turning to your grandmother. "So please stop making these comments to me. All they do is make me feel bad."

Your grandmother sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry. I'll keep my mouth shut."

Not entirely heartfelt, but if she'd stop, that was good enough for you... for the moment.

"I'll go talk to Peter. He's just really overprotective, but that's what I love about him. He takes care of me," you said, smiling to yourself.

You left your family in the dining room, walking out to your front yard where Peter was waiting at your car. He was leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed over his chest.

"They're angry at me, aren't they?" He asked you, cringing.

You shook your head as you approached him, pulling him toward you by his tie and pressing your lips to his.

Peter's hands moved to rest on your waist, moving you closer to him. When you pulled away, his eyes were lighter and he was smiling. "What was that for?"

"I'd never been able to stand up to my family, especially my grandma, and you defended me when I couldn't. And I love you for that."

Peter kissed you again, soft and sweet, wrapping his arms around you. "I love you, too. You are perfect, no matter what anyone says."

You gave him another quick kiss before pulling him back to the house.

He groaned, not budging an inch. "Do we have to go back in there?"

"Not necessarily, but they apologized to me while you were gone, and I know they'll do it again if you're there. I kind of want to hear it for a second time."

Peter laughed, allowing himself to be dragged by the hand.

Yes, every insult has been said to me before, and if you've heard something similar, you are PERFECT just the way you are! I love each and every one of you. Happy reading. <3

[richincolor]

New Releases

I got an early look at Rez Ball and am really looking forward to seeing it out in the world. I'm excited for that and several others this week.

Rez Ball by Byron Graves Heartdrum

This compelling debut novel by new talent Byron Graves tells the relatable, high-stakes story of a young athlete determined to play like the hero his Ojibwe community needs him to be. These days, Tre Brun is happiest when he is playing basketball on the Red Lake Reservation high school team—even though he can’t help but be constantly gut-punched with memories of his big brother, Jaxon, who died in an accident. When Jaxon’s former teammates on the varsity team offer to take Tre under their wing, he sees this as his shot to represent his Ojibwe rez all the way to their first state championship. This is the first step toward his dream of playing in the NBA, no matter how much the odds are stacked against him. But stepping into his brother’s shoes as a star player means that Tre can’t mess up. Not on the court, not at school, and not with his new friend, gamer Khiana, who he is definitely not falling in love with. After decades of rez teams almost making it, Tre needs to take his team to state. Because if he can live up to Jaxon’s dreams, their story isn’t over yet.  This book is published by Heartdrum, an imprint that publishes high-quality, contemporary stories about Indigenous young people in the United States and Canada.

Those Pink Mountain Nights by Jen Ferguson Heartdrum

In her remarkable second novel following her acclaimed debut, The Summer of Bitter and Sweet, which won the Governor General’s Award and received six starred reviews, Jen Ferguson writes about the hurt of a life stuck in past tense, the hum of connections that cannot be severed, and one week in a small snowy town that changes everything.

Over-achievement isn’t a bad word—for Berlin, it’s the goal. She’s securing excellent grades, planning her future, and working a part-time job at Pink Mountain Pizza, a legendary local business. Who says she needs a best friend by her side?

Dropping out of high school wasn’t smart—but it was necessary for Cameron. Since his cousin Kiki’s disappearance, it’s hard enough to find the funny side of life, especially when the whole town has forgotten Kiki. To them, she’s just another missing Native girl.

People at school label Jessie a tease, a rich girl—and honestly, she’s both. But Jessie knows she contains multitudes. Maybe her new job crafting pizzas will give her the high-energy outlet she desperately wants.

When the weekend at Pink Mountain Pizza takes unexpected turns, all three teens will have to acknowledge the various ways they’ve been hurt—and how much they need each other to hold it all together.

Ab(solutely) Normal: Short Stories That Smash Mental Health Stereotypes edited by Nora Shalaway Carpenter & Rocky Callen Candlewick Press

Channeling their own experiences, sixteen exceptional authors subvert mental health stereotypes in a powerful and uplifting collection of fiction.

A teen activist wrestles with protest-related anxiety and PTSD. A socially anxious vampire learns he has to save his town by (gulp) working with people. As part of her teshuvah, a girl writes letters to the ex-boyfriend she still loves, revealing that her struggle with angry outbursts is related to PMDD. A boy sheds uncontrollable tears but finds that in doing so he’s helping to enable another’s healing. In this inspiring, unflinching, and hope-filled mixed-genre collection, sixteen diverse and notable authors draw on their own lived experiences with mental health conditions to create stunning works of fiction that will uplift and empower you, break your heart and stitch it back together stronger than before. Through powerful prose, verse, and graphics, the characters in this anthology defy stereotypes as they remind readers that living with a mental health condition doesn’t mean that you’re defined by it. Each story is followed by a note from its author to the reader, and comprehensive back matter includes bios for the contributors as well as a collection of relevant resources.

With contributions by: Mercedes Acosta * Karen Jialu Bao * James Bird * Rocky Callen * Nora Shalaway Carpenter * Alechia Dow * Patrick Downes * Anna Drury * Nikki Grimes * Val Howlett * Jonathan Lenore Kastin * Sonia Patel * Marcella Pixley * Isabel Quintero * Ebony Stewart * Francisco X. Stork

Monstrous by Jessica Lewis Delacorte Press

Forced to spend her summer in her aunt’s strange small town, a teen girl discovers dark secrets hidden in the woods. From the author of Bad Witch Burning comes another pulse-pounding novel perfect for fans of Supernatural and Lovecraft Country.

Don’t go outside past dark. Come straight home after church. And above all—never, ever, go into Red Wood.

These are the rules Latavia’s aunt tells her as soon as she arrives in Sanctum, Alabama for the summer. Weird, but Latavia isn’t here to solve any scary small town mysteries; she’s here for six weeks and six weeks only, and then she’s off to college and won’t look back. Still, Sanctum has its perks—mainly, the cute girl who works at the local ice cream shop.

But Latavia can’t ignore how strange her aunt’s tiny town is. The residents are suspicious of her and at times hostile, and it’s clear she’s some kind of outsider. That’s proven when Latavia is dragged out of her house in the dead of night, into the forbidden Red Wood, and presented as a human sacrifice to an ancient monster.

Latavia won’t be eaten without a fight. She’ll do whatever she has to do to survive—even if that includes making a deal with the monster, endangering her crush and family, and even risk turning into a monster herself.

The Name Drop by Susan Lee Inkyard Press

New from the author of Seoulmates comes a story of mistaken identities, the summer of a lifetime, and a love to risk everything for.

When Elijah Ri arrives in New York City for an internship at his father’s massive tech company, Haneul Corporation, he expects the royal treatment that comes with being the future CEO—even if that’s the last thing he wants. But instead, he finds himself shuffled into a group of overworked, unpaid interns, all sharing a shoebox apartment for the summer.

When Jessica Lee arrives in New York City, she’s eager to make the most of her internship at Haneul Corporation, even if she’s at the bottom of the corporate ladder. But she’s shocked to be introduced as the new executive-in-training intern with a gorgeous brownstone all to herself.

It doesn’t take long for Elijah and Jessica to discover the source of the they share the same Korean name. But they decide to stay switched—so Elijah can have a relaxing summer away from his controlling dad while Jessica can make the connections she desperately needs for college recommendations.

As Elijah and Jessica work together to keep up the charade, a spark develops between them. Can they avoid discovery—and total disaster—with their feelings and futures on the line?

Goddess Crown by Shade Lapite Walker Books US

In this thrilling Afro-fantasy, the first set in the lush, opulent kingdom of Galla, a girl raised in secret must leave her sheltered rural home for the subtle dangers of the royal court, where she becomes caught up in deadly power struggles and romantic intrigue.

Kalothia has grown up in the shadows of her kingdom, hidden away in the forested East after her parents were outed as enemies of the king. Raised in a woodland idyll by a few kindly adult caretakers, Kalothia can hunt and fish and fend for herself but knows little of the outside world. When assassins attack her home on her sixteenth birthday, she must flee to the king’s court in the West–a beautiful but lethal nest of poison, plots, and danger, overseen by an entrenched patriarchy. Guided by the Goddess herself, can Kalothia navigate this most worldly of places to find her own role? What if she must choose between her country and her heart? Excitement, romance, and a charismatic heroine shine in this first book set in the unforgettable kingdom of Galla.

[yutopia-eleftheria]

Bill Edward Backstory

My version of his backstory is a combination of all stories from Another Code Two Memories (Trace Memory), Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories (where he is mentioned and we understand his actions better), and Another Code Recollection. Like with Ryan Gray, I decided to combine both backstories into one in my AU, although it's less "impacting" than Ryan, as there are only a few details that have changed for Bill.

Note : The writing is inspired by the official page from the Cing Wiki.

To see the original page, click here.

Full Name : Bill Henry Edward

Race : Human

Age : 38

Gender : Born Male ; Gender Neutral

Birthday : December 31st 1966

Zodiac Sign : Capricorn

Blood Type : AB+

Home : United States

Relatives : Frannie Edward {Mother} (deceased)

Unnamed Father (presumably deceased)

Thomas Edward {Great Uncle} (deceased)

Jane Edward {Great Aunt} (deceased)

Daniel Edward {First Cousin Once Removed} (deceased)

Henry Edward {Maternal Grandfather} (deceased)

Marie Edward {Maternal Grandmother} (deceased)

Leonard Edward {Ancestor} (deceased)

Sally Edward {Ancestor} (deceased)

Lawrence Edward {Ancestor} (deceased)

Helen Edward {Ancestor} (deceased)

Occupation : M.J. Labs Scientist (formerly)

Affiliation : Sayoko Robbins (Former Colleague, Crush and Murder Victim ; deceased)

Richard Robbins (Colleague and Ennemy)

Jessica Robbins (Richard's Younger Sister and Former Girlfriend)

Ryan Gray ("Colleague" ; "deceased")

Judd Fitzgerald (Superior ; deceased)

Ashley Mizuki Robbins (Sayoko and Richard's Daughter)

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"That's ENOUGH out of you ! Why don't you listen to me ? I don't HAVE anything else. Another is all I have left !"

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Bill Edward is a major character in Another Code : Two Memories and its remake Another Code : Recollection.

He is a scientist who worked on Another with Ashley's parents. He is the last descendant of the Edward family and the current owner of the Edward mansion on Blood Edward Island. According to a D.A.S. card, Bill does not live on the mansion, however, only visiting it every few months. He is the son of Frannie Edward.

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Personality :

He is first portrayed as a father like figure to Ashley when he posed as Richard which can come off as creepy. He took this to his advantage, manipulating and lying to her as a result. Later on, it's revealed that he is a serious person and he's dedicated to his work. Bill had fallen in love with Sayoko but he became bitter when she got together with Richard and he lost trust in people. He is also not above harming others to accomplish this goal of his, considering that he murdered Ashley's mother, knocked out Jessica and Richard. Plus, he attempted to kill him.

It is speculated that he wanted to sell the Another for financial gain as he had the mindset that anyone could pay top dollar for this sort of technology. Bill has more of a short temper and he felt that the Another is the only thing he has left, meaning that he needed it to feel happy or whole again. It is said that Bill was optimistic in the past.

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Background :

In 1966, Frannie Edward had a son named Bill after she supposedly got together with an unknown man. She seemingly raised him as well. However, it is unclear if Bill's father was even around to take care of him. When he grew up, Bill worked at M.J. Labs. In 1994, his mother passed away.

Bill knew Sayoko and Richard when they were working at M.J. Labs, as well as Jessica Robbins. They worked on researching memories and the project known as Another, with him and Sayoko being the driving forced of the project.

It is hinted he had feelings for Sayoko and felt bitter when she fell in love with Richard. Meanwhile, it is hinted that Jessica had a crush on Bill, although for unclear reasons, it appears they never became a couple. On the chance they were in a relationship, Bill would have ended it when he fled to Blood Edward Island after his crime.

Bill was annoyed when Sayoko left the project to focus on being a mother (which she did because she felt Another could fall into the wrong hands and be used for evil), as well for betraying the company by hiding her work on Another in her house, feeling Another wasn't just hers or Richard's. In order to stop Another from completion, Sayoko also lied by claiming there was a false report that there was an error in the Another theory. Bill claims he begged Sayoko to share their work, but she refused.

In 1994, under the manipulation of Ryan Gray, he intruded in the Robbins' home with a handgun. He found Sayoko and ordered her to give him the research on Another, but she refused. He shot her with a handgun, while Ashley hid in a closet and witnessed the act.

Sometime later, he arrived at Sayoko's graveyard and left her some flowers. He stood by her own grave for a long time with a stricken (sad) look on his face (possibly because he felt emotionally hurt). It is unknown if he noticed Richard at that time. Bill continued to work with him to finish Another, and encouraged Richard to isolate from the rest of the world by offering Blood Edward Mansion as a place to live.

He eventually discovers that Richard secretly encoded Another to be only usable by Ashley's biometrics, fueling his anger and seeing this as another act of Richard being secretive and selfish.

Bill manages to subdue Richard and implant a false memory of Sayoko's murder into Richard's mind using Another. He later leaves an unconscious Richard in a secret room belonging to his ancestor, Lawrence Edward, and begins his plan to pose as Asley's father, manipulating her into giving him her Dual Another System as well as the Another keys, and allowing him to take Another for himself.

Although not made explicitly clear, it is hinted he may have wanted to kill Richard afterwards so he would not interfere with him taking Another. It is shown he is not above murder, having killed Sayoko and he tells Ashley to say goodbye to Richard while holding him at gunpoint.

Bill abducts Jessica after he told her he will take her to Richard, so she crossed the bridge to reach the main entrance of the mansion. She is knocked unconscious and he locks her in the wine cellar. She was seemingly drugged as well (which was presumably done to make her sleepy and woozy, so that she wouldn't have the energy to meddle with his affairs after regaining consciousness). Bill never actually intended for Jessica to come to the island.

He later meets Ashley in the mansion, pretending to be her father. She is taken aback by how he smells of smoke. She has a conversation with him and asks some questions. Then, they part ways when Ashley goes looking for the Another keys while he goes for Jessica. By the time Ashley reunites and hugs Richard (her real father) at the laboratory inside the mansion after remembering his face, Bill tells him to meet up at the mines through a speaker.

He is confronted by Richard and Ashley in the mine. This is where he's revealed the be the main antagonist. Ashley tells him that was an incredibly creepy thing to do when he posed as her father. He tries to mess with Ashley's head by positing Richard being her mother's killer, but with intense focus, she is able to identify him as Sayoko's murderer from her memories of her third birthday.

He holds Richard at gunpoint, but Daniel Edward's ghost appears briefly and spooks him, telling him to stop or he will make Frannie cry. The shock makes him lose balance and he ends up dangling over a cliff, Richard having caught him. Richard's grip slips and Bill meets his end after he falls off the ledge of the mine. It's never explained if his body is retrieved after.

Bill is referenced a few times during the events of Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories. His figure can be seen in Ashley's dream as the figure who shoots her mother.

Near the end, Ashley discovers Ryan's role in manipulating Bill to murder her mother. It is revealed Bill was one of the few people who knew that Ryan was actually the son of Judd Fitzgerald. Ryan was dismayed when Judd refused him to be his successor, and Bill revealed the truth to him. Ryan wanted revenge against Judd and his successors, and pretended to ally with Bill, although Ryan just saw Bill as a tool to be used.

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Quotes :

"You're a bad little girl, Ashley. To accuse someone of such a heinous crime without proof... Richard, did you fill her mind with all this poison ?"

"Ashley, your father is the horrible one. He pretended to be my friend, but then he stabbed me in the back."

"I thought it was your weakness that made you hide from reality, not any grand goals for humanity. For eleven years, you reveled in your solitude and research, never thinking of the cost. Who do you think paid ? Me and Ashley !" (to Richard)

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Trivia :

Depending on the moment and possibly his mood, Bill's characterization can be a bit different. For example, when Bill is calmer, he attacks Richard's masculinity by saying, "And you call yourself a man ?"

Bill can come off as more patriotic, saying Sayoko betrayed their country.

He seems more concerned about money, annoyed he financially contributed to funding Richard's agenda.

He can have a shorter fuse ; telling Richard to shut up, twice.

He seems angrier at Richard in general, wanting him to die sooner than later, pressuring Ashley to say goodbye to him. However, he actually puts focus on getting her to talk more about her memories. He also takes jabs at Richard for not attending Ashley's birthday party sooner, supporting his view that Richard is a bad father.

It is not revealed Bill is Frannie's son until Ashley and D. sees the picture of Frannie alongside a young Bill in his notebook, but there was evidence. D interrupted him when he is about to shoot Richard by mentioning Frannie's name (D : "Stop. You're going to make Frannie cry.") and Frannie is likely the only one whom is able to give the inheritance of the estate to him. One of the D.A.S. cards reveals that Bill's mother died in 1994, the same year that Sayoko died, and she refused to set foot in the "cursed mansion". Considering what happened to Frannie's family during her short stay on the island - her cousin's death, her uncle being shot by her father, and her father's madness leading to his suicide - it makes sense that she'd be unwilling to ever return.

It is stated that he smells like cigarettes (smoke), so it can be speculated that he smokes to relieve some amount of stress or emotional pain from what he had experienced. Examples include : losing his mother, the memory of Sayoko being more distant and ignoring his pleas, Richard acting secretive and selfish in his eyes or other reasons.

In a D.A.S. card, Richard mentions, "Bill visits me every few months to hear about my progress. When he visits this mansion, he often acts strangely. When his right hand touches some of the furniture with the golden bird designs, he sometimes recoils as if he had been electrocuted. It's all very peculiar. Oddly enough Bill doesn't even notice himself recoiling, and looks at me very strangely when I mention it to him." It can be theorized it has something to do with Henry (who is Bill's grandfather) losing his right arm in World War II.

It can be speculated that Bill probably tried to get Richard to isolate himself on the island in order to avoid any possible contact with Ashley. At some point, Richard probably told Bill that Ashley was found hiding in the room and may have witnessed Sayoko's killer. Bill would not be aware of how well toddler Ashley would see his face and if Ashley saw Bill, she could claim he killed Sayoko. This held true 11 years later when Ashley was able to recognize Bill. Even though, she didn't recognize him at first when they met at the island. Ashley regained her memory of Bill committing the crime by focusing on his face and the gun intensely in the mine.

As Bill visits the island every few months, it is likely Bill who brings fresh canned food to Richard which he mentions eating in a D.A.S. card.

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Family Tree :

Note : All the family members has met their demise earlier.

[myclematis7]

*cutely asks you about all the books you’ve read*

The Kingdom of Fantasy. I was OBSESSED with the twin fairies, Blossom and Wither. and their brother, Prince Lucky. basically, all the attractive characters. when I read book 13 (pretty sure that's it), I started off by shipping Flamelet and Winglet, but then of course, Winglet x Lorian grew on me, though I still half-shipped Flamelet and Winglet. and also Flamelet was revealed to be Winglet's sympathetic villain cousin (!) so of course Winglorian became endgame. My favorite book in the series was The Phoenix of Destiny because I was a child and didn't know of the twin thing. Long story short, my mind was blown.

The Land of Stories by Chris Colfer. My grade 3 teacher read this book to us and BAM! Loved it since the first chapter. Everyone in my class loved it too, so they borrowed the only copy of the second book from the library. Since I actually had money back then, I bought it. It's still there on my shelf.

The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. The only criticism I have for these books is Finnick. WHY'D HE HAVE TO DIE, SUZANNE. WHY. WHY. WHY. Catching Fire is definitely my favorite movie and book.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by rick riordan. I am a daughter of Athena. I like the books. I am also very tired so I'll leave it like that. Also, I can't wait for the Disney+ show.

The 39 Clues. Any stans, leave. I literally co-founded the I HATE AMY CAHILL club. Dan, however, is a different story. He's cool. I don't have very much to say about it, other than that I would be a Lucian or Ekaterina. Probably Lucian though. They need more people ever since Natalie and Isabel died.

A Tale of Magic trilogy (so far) by Chris Colfer. Yes, it is separated from TLOS because there was a four-year gap between the two series. This series made me try to draw again. I might draw Xanrik fanart soon. Very soon. I will start as soon as I get home. And I may color it. Also, I need a book with Emerelda, Tangerina, and Skylene POVs.

The Shadowhunter Chronicles by Cassandra Clare.

The Grishaverse by Leigh Bardugo. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE THESE BOOKS AND I DO NOT NEED TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE. READ THEM NOW. RIGHT NOW. (or at least try).

The Throne of Glass series (minus Tower of Dawn and Kingdom of Ash) by Sarah J. Maas. I preferred it when she was Celaena. Now she's basically a whole new person, Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. Fire powers are cool though.

ACOTAR by Sarah J. Maas, plus a bit of ACOMAF, ACOWAR, and ACOSF. Can I just say...wow. What is this series? Why are there so many faeries? Why is Tamlin evil now?

Lockwood and Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. The skull was great, Kipps' redemption arc was great, Holly was great, and everyone was great. I also liked Annabel's locket. It inspired me to wear my own locket every day.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Shrek the Third (2007)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

The drop in quality between Shrek 2 and Shrek the Third is so steep you'll wonder why anyone bothered. There’s nothing inspired here in terms of plot, character development, humour or even pop-culture references. It’s a devastating letdown that disappoints more the longer you watch.

King Harold (John Cleese) is dying and names Shrek (Mike Myers) and Princess Fiona (Cameron Diaz) as his successors. Convinced an ogre will be unfit to rule the kingdom of Far Far Away, Shrek decides to track down her cousin, Arthur “Artie” Pendragon (Justin Timberlake). With the help of Donkey (Mike Myers) and Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas), our swamp-loving hero is off, but not before Fiona reveals she is pregnant. Meanwhile, a washed-up Prince Charming (Rupert Everett) vows revenge.

The story by Andrew Adamson - adapted by Jeffrey Price, Peter S. Seaman, Chris Miller and Aron Warner - is so flawed I don’t know if there was any salvaging it. By and large, it’s really just the same plot as the original film. Shrek and Donkey - plus Puss - have to find a royal and bring them to a castle so Shrek can get his swamp back the way he wants it to be. Oh sure, there are slight differences. Obviously Artie doesn’t fall in love with the green meanie the way Fiona did but they do have that big “lover’s quarrel” scene once true intentions are revealed.

What you essentially get is Shrek but without anything that made it magical. The characters aren’t fresh the way they were before. Worse, the well of fairytale-based jokes has been drained dry, leaving this movie with few opportunities to make you laugh. I know you could argue whether Red Riding Hood or the Three Blind Mice really fit the fairy tales motif but King Arthur? Sans excalibur and with only a couple of lame scenes where an exaggerated, incompetent and loopy Merlin (Eric Idle) appears? It feels completely out of place.

Tonally, director Chris Miller misses the mark so thoroughly it's almost like it's on purpose. The first scene has a humiliated Prince Charming mourning his now-dead mother. Next a parade of scenes of Shrek grumbling about how much he hates Far Far Away and how much he doesn’t want to rule. He then finds an excuse to abandon his wife so he can pawn the kingdom off on some schmo he’s never met. In no time, you're sympathizing with the villain rather than the hero. Yes, Charming turns out to be malicious but it feels like the character was re-written to be the antagonist. From what we saw previously, there was nothing to indicate he had any volition of his own; he was just a mama’s boy raised to believe he should rule. Couldn’t Fiona wear the crown? How about the still-living Queen? What if Artie had been this megalomaniac who, after obtaining power, used it to get revenge on everyone who bullied him at high school? Shrek would’ve come off as an even bigger jerk than he already is.

Even the choice of songs doesn’t feel right. Whereas Livin’ La Vida Loca, I’m Holding out for a Hero and All-Star in Shreks 1 & 2 either subverted your expectations in a novel way, drove the story forward through non-litteral music, or both, there’s nothing about the short clip of Immigrant Song and the cover of Live of Let Die during the royal funeral that comes close. Where’s the wit? Where are the unusual choices that don't seem to fit on paper, but in execution work so well?

I doubt anyone who saw Shrek the Third upon its original release remembers it. They might remember some of what happens, but the way the movie made you feel? No way. That’s because this comedy has no heart. It’s diet water served after two classic animated comedies. I’d say I hated it, but that's incendiary, passionate - too good for Shrek The Third. The people behind the scenes knew this movie would be a hit so they rushed out a mediocre product because they knew they could. (On DVD, August 9, 2019)

[classicschronicles]

Hi lovelies,

Okay so my A-levels are approaching and once again, what is the point of having this blog if I can’t exploit it for revision, and so today I am going to explain Euripides Bacchae to you all. Also this is my favourite favourite Greek tragedy and so you all have to love it too. Okay yay <3

So, in true Euripidean fashion, the play begins with a prologue that sets the scene. The one giving this speech is Dionysus who explains the complicated circumstances of his birth. His human mother, Semele, was pregnant with Zeus’ child and long story short Hera got angry and Semele dies with Dionysus still in her womb. Zeus takes the baby from the womb and sews him into his thigh, birthing it from his thigh when the time came. However, the family of Semele (especially her two sisters) did not believe the circumstances of her pregnancy. They were convinced that Semele died because she had lied about her relationship with Zeus and so they denied the fact that the child was the son of a god.

The now adult Dionysus says that he has travelled all around Asia gathering a cult of female worshipers (Maenads) to establish his right as a god. He says he has now returned to the place of his birth, Thebes, to take revenge on the ruling house of Cadmus (his mothers father) to punish them for his refusal to worship him, and to vindicate his mother. As the play begins, Dionysus has driven the women of Thebes (including his aunts Agave and Ino) to the mountains of Cithaeron and turned them into his worshippers. The only men in the city who have accepted Dionysus include the king Cadmus, and the prophet Tiresias (although there is a lot of debate over whether these two really accept Dionysus or if they are just taking the piss).

Enter the young king of Thebes, Pentheus (son of Agave and cousin of Dionysus). Guys also wait, when I first read the Bacchae (for reasons you will soon find out) I literally would shit on Pentheus, but I found out that he’s actually like 17 which changes the whole morality of the play and now I kinda feel bad for him rip. Anyways, enter Pentheus, who proceeds to ban Dionysian worship in its entirety and orders his soldiers to arrest anyone engaging in the bacchic rites. He sees the Maenads ‘divinely-inspired’ insanity as drunken cavorting as an attempt escape the moral codes of Theban society.

And then enter Dionysus, who has deliberately allowed himself to be arrested in his disguise as a the long-haired Lydian leader of the Dionysian priests (referred to as the Stranger). He is then questioned by Pentheus. However, it is clear that Pentheus (despite his apparent disgust of the Maenads) is actually very fascinated by the maenads. The reason for that is basically he thinks that the Maenads are having 0rg13s in the woods and he lowkey wants to see it. However, the Strangers refusal to reveal the full extent of the Bacchic rites angers Pentheus and so he locks him up. However, as a god, Dionysus is able to break free quickly and then basically sets fire to Pentheus’ palace. Excessive but okay king.

Guys also I know that Pentheus has banned Dionysian worship and that is seriously blasphemous of him, but you have to understand that this strange man has turned up and taken all the women of the city to the mountains and is claiming to be a god, you would be confused as well. So when he bans Bacchic worship, I don’t think he’s doing it out of malice I think (as a 17 year old) he is doing his best to protect his people.

Okay now to set the scene again, this poor confused 17 year old has just had his palace burnt to the ground and now some strange messenger arrives and tells him what the Maenads are really doing. He says that the Maenads are behaving in a superhuman manor and are performing incredible feats and miracles. The messenger tells of how the women hit the ground with their thrysus and milk and honey spring from the ground. However, when they see the male guards they are whipped into a wild frenzy, chasing after them. He says that the weapons of the guards are unable to harm them, whilst the women are able to defeat them armed only with sticks. He also says some stuff about they are suckling the wild animal cubs in the forest and also they rip up a cow and honestly, there is a lot going on. A lot.

Anyways, this makes Pentheus even more determined to see the maenads. There is some debate over whether or not Pentheus is simply curious about the maenads, or if there is some psycho-sexual thing going on here, but feel free to interpret that however you want. Anyways, Dionysus then says that if Pentheus is so eager to see the maenads, he should dress up as one and infiltrate the rites, saying this in an attempt to humiliate Pentheus.

Pentheus then dresses up as a woman and there is this whole scene where he stands there admiring Dionysus gorgeous curls and his eyelashes, and it’s all a bit homoerotic if you read the deeper meaning. When Pentheus is all dressed up, rather than being humiliated, he is quite taken by his image and asks if he looks pretty and if his wig is fixed right. Basically, this poor boy is having a moment of gender euphoria before it all goes to shit.

As you may or may not know, all violence in greek theatre happens off stage and is retold through messenger speeches. This is because theatre was incredibly sacred to the Greeks and therefore its ritual purity was not to be ruined by violence. Which leads on to the next part. A messenger enters and tells the following. He says that the god took his vengeance a step further than humiliation, helping Pentheus to the top of a tree to spy on the maenads secretly. However, Dionysus alerts the women of the arrival of a man and they proceed to shake the tree from its roots until Pentheus falls. (Trigger warning because it gets quite violent). They then proceed to rip him apart by his limbs and play catch with his head.

Agave (his mother) still possessed with Bacchic frenzy, arrives back at the palace carrying her sons head and displays it at the feet of Cadmus. The catch is, she thinks this is the head of a mountain lion that she has defeated, and has no idea what she has really done. But as the Dionysian ecstasy begins to wear off she releases what she was done and become inconsolable. Cadmus comments that the god has punished the family excessively.

Dionysus then appears in his true form and exiles Ino and Agave. Deciding that this is still not enough, he also turns Cadmus and his wife into snakes. By the end of the play, Dionysus has all but destroyed the house of Cadmus.

Okay so when I didn’t know that Pentheus was literally a child I was like, mmm slay Dionysus mwah. But now it’s maybe not his biggest slay. Also, I cant help but feel for Pentheus as a young king who is convinced he is doing the best for his people, and is being punished unjustly for the impiety of his mother and aunt. Also, i have done this play absolutely no justice so I really recommend that you all read the Bacchae, it’s a very short and very easy read!

Anyways, that was grim but it is my absolute favourite tragedy, and I hope you all enjoyed reading about it as much as I enjoyed writing about it. Hopefully I’ll see you all next week!

~Z

[writelykeekee]

The Writer, Me

Within the depths of my external hard drive, affectionately named Tara, awaits a folder entitled Scribbles. Should one open this folder, many others will be revealed, each with more folders and documents enveloped inside them. They all contain my creations: my poetry, short stories, and novels. All the relevant research I comb through for projects is tucked away in a Misc folder.

Back in the day (meaning the late 1990s to the early 2000s), I didn’t have a computer or laptop. I wouldn’t even get a Nokia Brick, my first phone, for a few more years. A plethora of notebooks, binders, and a variety of pens cluttered those years. Truly, it was chaos. It’s a wonder my mother never grabbed handfuls of it all to stuff in a barrel and burn.

My late cousin, Tabatha, was the one to ignite the passion for writing within me. She’d made the passing statement that I should write down the story I’d just finished telling her. Thus, I started my writing affair with the epic tales I was prone to telling. Knowingly running headfirst into a cliché, writing came as naturally to me as breathing.

It was the details that began to bog me down. I needed every last crumb to fall perfectly into place to feel satisfied with my stories. I needed to jot down every minuscule fragment of thought related to my writing lest it vanish into the void first. It was maddening, yet how could I stop?

As my interest in writing grew, I began reading more poetry volumes. The emotion and truth that went into the poems that I consumed were alluring and spoke to a deep need of my own. Having a history filled with trauma, I realized I could utilize poetry as an outlet. It was a way to pour out all the words my brain, heart, and soul needed to scream.

Poetry was my niche until I was almost out of high school. By then, I had begun dabbling in short stories and novellas. While I had successfully written multiple of each, none of them felt alive. None of them burned with that desire to be shared and devoured. None of them had that something that carried me from page to page without regard for the passing of time.

Over the years, many passion projects have come and gone. Some of them are cringy when I pull them from their cobwebbed compartments within the recesses of my mind while others fill me with regret and a longing for a completion that likely will never come. Of course, I keep them anyway. A writer should always keep their works no matter how cringy, dated, or atrocious they may seem. You never know when they can spontaneously become your next inspiration.

There are two main works that have encompassed the majority of my life as a writer. The first is a story for my mother, my beautiful and intelligent Mama Mattie. When I was in late middle to early high school a friend of mine gave me a stack of books that she no longer wanted. Among them was a book called Seven Tears Into the Sea by Terri Farley.

It’s an enchanting book about selkies, seal-folk who can shed their seal skins when they come onto land and become human. My mother loved this book immensely and wanted her own Selkie story. Thus, I began to research and write. Her selkie story, now with the working title of Torrential, has seen many transformations over the last 15 or so years but has never made it past the first chapter. Mama Mattie does her due diligence in reminding me that I still owe her a selkie story for the ages.

My second work is a story born of a dream, as most of my works find me. Another 15+ year project, it has been the most transformative work I’ll likely ever manage. Originally called Ensphere, the now-titled Shadowstrung trilogy is my all-encompassing passion project. It began as a simple story of fate, endurance, and companionship but evolved when I met my partner Galen and we discovered that the story he was working on seemed to fit together with mine rather elegantly.

Since then, we have gone rounds with this project. All the characters have been renamed countless times, their personalities tweaked, their relationships fine-tuned. The novel became a trilogy. Main characters faded into the background while supporting characters moved to the forefront. All these years later, only the bare bones of SST hold a resemblance to the original concepts of Ensphere.

In early 2022, I made an incredibly difficult decision to put both of these projects down. After 15ish years with little legitimate progress, I felt like I needed something fresh. I needed to see what lay beyond the boundaries of these stories in which I had so deeply burrowed. I spent the rest of the year compiling all of my notes for each so that when I return to them, it will all still make sense.

For the month of Dec 2022, I considered what type of stories I would like to write and I came up with 3 to work on over the next few years. My current work-in-progress is named A Hiss of Sparks. It has been unbelievably arduous to step into this new concept, to stay focused on something ultimately foreign to my mind. I also deal with Autism, ADHD, mental illness, and chronic pain, none of which help the creative process.

Here we find ourselves in May 2023, and I am no closer to having an organized concept of what to write for any of my 3 new projects than I did when they were conceived five months ago. Innately a pantser, I’ve even begun dabbling with plotting and structure to help me to organize. While so far it has been to no avail, I have faith that something will click into place. Until then, I will simply have to try and try again.

[spnepisodemasterlist]

Season 1, Episode 15: The Benders

After following a history of disappearances in Hibbing, Minnesota, Sam finds himself locked in a cage and Dean must team up with a by the book sheriff to find him......before the hunt begins. (Directly from IMDB)

Director: Peter Ellis

Writers: Eric Kripke, John Shiban, Sera Gamble

Car deaths? Is the car being used as a method of kidnapping?

A cat just scared the shit out of Sam

Dean’s going by Greg  as Sam’s cousin. 

The police officer looked Sam up and revealed that Dean was dead and wanted for murder

Okay. Sam’s in a cage??

People...Shifters maybe?

uh oh. this man is going to get himself killed

also doesn’t he know that only dean’s allowed to call sam sammy???

So i’ve been writing this on desktop and I’m curious why the hell the second bullet points don’t show up? like why would it even be an option if they don’t show up on desktop or on mobile?

Dean’s going to get arrested for impersonating an officer

That was hilarious. “You’re a civilian and a felon. I think.” 

Kathleen is pretty funny

Wait they had a conversation with that guy. Who was he??

Maybe these guys are vamps? Or just really messed up people?

The Most Dangerous Game inspired. This family is super messed up.

Is this just taken directly from The Most Dangerous Game short story?? 

One of my favorite tropes is when they meet regular people that they don’t know, they look so strange. it’s a great gag

Honestly just watch this episode  for yourself, it’s super fucked up.

[mirecalemoments01]

Brazilian Health Influencer's Mysterious Death After 45kg Weight Loss Journey

Influencer's Mysterious Passing Adriana Thyssen, a Brazilian health and fitness influencer, tragically passed away at the age of 49 due to a mysterious illness. Her untimely death has left her family and followers in shock. Adriana, also known as Drika, was discovered lifeless in her apartment in Sao Paulo, leaving behind unanswered questions about the exact cause of her demise. Her family has chosen not to disclose the specific cause of her passing. A Weight Loss Journey Adriana Thyssen was a prominent figure in the world of health and fitness on social media. She regularly used Instagram as a platform to share her weight loss journey, providing tips, updates, and inspiration to her numerous followers. One of her most remarkable achievements was shedding over 100 pounds (approximately 45 kg) in just a little over a year. Her transformation was an inspiration to many who struggled with their own weight management challenges. A Grief-Stricken Announcement The news of Adriana Thyssen's passing was conveyed to the public by her cousin through an emotional post on Instagram. The message, shared on the Instagram page of her plus-size sportswear boutique, Drika Store, read, "It is with deep sadness and regret that we, the Drika Blog and Drika Store team and family announce the death of our dear Drika. In this moment of pain, we ask for everyone's prayer and compassion.'' Inspirational Weight Loss Journey Adriana Thyssen's weight loss journey was not just about shedding pounds; it was a transformative journey of self-discovery and self-improvement. She had openly shared her lifelong struggle with being overweight, which had plagued her since her teenage years. At the age of 39, she weighed over 220 pounds (around 100 kg). Her journey towards a healthier lifestyle was triggered by her battle with drug addiction and depression. In a heartfelt post to welcome new followers, she revealed, "I started the fight on 02/18/13, I weighed 107kg. I wasn't pregnant, and I didn't have bariatric surgery. I was unemployed and with my husband, I was in debt at the bank." From Struggle to Success Adriana embarked on her weight loss journey by adopting a balanced diet and committing to a rigorous exercise routine. Over time, her dedication and determination paid off. In the initial eight months, she shed an impressive 80 pounds, followed by an additional 20 pounds in the subsequent seven months. Her story resonated with many who were inspired by her perseverance and her ability to overcome significant obstacles. A Private Farewell Adriana Thyssen was laid to rest in a private funeral at Cemitério Bom Jesus in Araguari, her hometown in the state of Minas Gerais. Her passing leaves behind a legacy of transformation and serves as a reminder of the importance of prioritizing one's health and well-being. Adriana's journey, though cut short, continues to inspire individuals on their own paths to a healthier and happier life. Her commitment to change and her willingness to share her experiences with others will be remembered as a testament to the power of personal transformation. Who was Adriana Thyssen, and why was she famous?Adriana Thyssen, also known as Drika, was a Brazilian health and fitness influencer who gained fame on social media, particularly on Instagram. She was renowned for her weight loss journey, where she lost over 100 pounds (approximately 45 kg) in just over a year. Adriana openly shared her struggles with being overweight and inspired many with her transformation and dedication to a healthier lifestyle.How did Adriana Thyssen pass away, and what is the cause of her death?Adriana Thyssen's exact cause of death remains undisclosed by her family. She was found deceased in her apartment in Sao Paulo due to what has been described as a "mystery illness."What was Adriana Thyssen's impact on social media?Adriana Thyssen had a significant following on Instagram, where she shared her weight loss journey, workout routines, and healthy diet tips. She served as an inspiration to those seeking to improve their health and well-being and documented her personal transformation on her social media platform.What was the significance of Adriana Thyssen's weight loss journey?Adriana Thyssen's weight loss journey was not just about shedding pounds; it was a story of personal transformation and self-improvement. Her openness about her struggles with weight, addiction, and depression resonated with many individuals facing similar challenges. Her journey served as a source of motivation and empowerment for those looking to embark on their own path to a healthier life. Read the full article

[carica-ficus]

Review: "What Do Nightmares Dream Of?"

Author: Antonija Mežnarić

Date: 20/08/2023

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

________________________________________________________

On our way to our vacation home on the coast, my boyfriend and I made an obligatory stop in Rijeka. Of course, that also meant we had to visit its bookstores, where I managed to snatch a few cool books by some local authors.

"What Do Nightmares Dream Of?" is a horror novella featuring a creature well known in the Slavic mythology - the mora. In this book, the mora tortures the main character, Sanja, with violent and horrifying dreams inspired by the traumatic experiences from her life - her parent's death, her grandmother's ruthless nature, and the torment of growing up as a queer person in a very conservative surrounding. Sanja is desperate to get rid of the mora, so she could finally live in peace, but this task is not as easy as it seems. In order to face the creature, she has to work through the difficulties of her life and the troubled relationship she has with her family.

The nightmares Sanja deals with start somewhat tame, but as she gets forced to remember and reveal parts of her painful childhood, their intensity increases, creating grotesque imagery and haunting Sanja with the ghosts of her past. While Sanja is obviously distraught by the nightmares, she considers the mora more of like a nuisance to her daily life, rather than a real threat. She asks her priest cousin, Shimun, for help, but refuses to let him cover her new home with catholic imagery, that he deems is necessary in her situation. Sanja's repulsion towards religion is understandable, given that her grandmother has always maintained control by making her adhere to the commandments of Christianity, but it also perfectly portrays Sanja's utter need to escape the restraints of her former life. While the new flat she has bought and moved to is plagued by a seemingly restless and terrifying creature, she would rather suffer through it, than allow any sign of her grandmother's influence into her new home.

This decision forces Sanja to face the realities of her newfound freedom. She finally escaped from her grandmother's authority, but now she is burdened by the inability to adapt. She has been hurt for a long time, but now she is angry because she cannot comprehend what truly defines her as a person. Did her choices truly come out her own conviction or only out of spite? The mora feeds on these insecurities and plays with them in Sanja's dreams, and Sanja slowly starts giving into it. So much so, that the mora brings her to the brink of death - of turning her to a mora herself, which consequently stirs Sanja into realizing that it is not merely a coincidence that she is haunted by the mora. The two of them are much the same, but at least Sanja still has the power to take ahold of her life and make a difference, to finally allow herself to let go of what is holding her back.

The act of distancing oneself away from trauma is never easy and it includes different hardships that are very difficult to predict and even harder to fight through. Mežnarić masterfully displays this through Sanja's character, especially through the relationship she has with herself and with the one she has with her family. Because her feelings were usually undermined by others, she feels alone in her battles and refuses anyone to help her. Sanja only starts the process of healing when she finally gives in and opens up. The mere act of speaking about it is not enough to change her life, but it is enough for her to realize she doesn't have to do everything by herself.

While I did enjoy the story, the structure of it is a little too even paced. The tension is steady throughout the novella, but there is no true build up. There are instances where the text starts reaching toward something greater, but unfortunately falls short on it. Personally, I would've preferred if the nightmare scenes were slightly more grotesque and if Sanja's fear and anxieties were given more introspection. On the other hand, the aforementioned weak points didn't take too much away from my overall experience of the book and I did find it pretty compelling.

"What Do Nightmares Dream Of?" is a disturbing, but a strangely comforting novella that deals with childhood and religious trauma that manifest through nightmares in the form of a mora. It's relatively short, but offers a lot through its themes and characters, tackling difficult topics and the pain of moving forward. If you haven't yet had the chance to read a Croatian horror story featuring Slavic mythology, this would definitely be a good start.