#making a PLAN tomorrow is a spring awakening INTENSIVE

[yououghtaknow]

girls love me for my in-depth knowledge of sheik/sater’s spring awakening.

[greenmansgrove]

Ahead of the snowstorm that hits tomorrow (the solstice), I decided to make my biweekly pilgrimage to my favorite park today. I first visited it in October, too late to find any acorns, but awed by the colors of the autumn leaves.

Aside from the playground, the gathering pavilion, and a small softball field, it’s just a bunch of hills between oaks of all kinds. There are occasional tables and benches for sitting and meditation.

In October/November, when I was dealing with some intense insomnia, I would take early morning treks out to local parks and walking trails. I also decided around this time that I wanted to start my quest for my druid staff. I had been reading the RDNA’s A Reformed Druid Anthology and found some musings by Albion (p. 468) and the late Emmon Bodfish (p. 469) on finding one’s staff. As someone who regularly doubts if my spiritual connection to nature is “strong enough,” I felt that this might be a good first trial in proving my worthiness to myself. I thought the restful, meditative act of meandering trails while already in a calm, sleepless state might help keep me open to whatever would come my way. All the while, I whispered to myself, at the suggestion of Bodfish, “Who wishes to come? Who will help me?”

I performed this little ritual as I wandered a couple different parks one morning, and while I would find potential sticks, they often wound up being cottonwood, which doesn’t make the sturdiest staves and often rots quickly.

I returned home fruitless until I decided to take one more walk during an afternoon where sleep still would not come. I trekked to my favorite park (pictured above) and saw from the road a downed branch behind one of the park’s chain linked fences. I found my way over and was pleased that with some trimming, the branch would make a fabulous staff.

I broke off and left behind the tinier branches and some of the end so it would fit in my car, and then proceed to do my best to identify the tree from which it had fallen. I wandered among the trees in that spot, looking for places where perhaps this larger branch had fallen, and I settled on what I’m sure is a younger bur oak. Its leaves had all fallen by the time I found the branch, but based on the bark, I’m fairly certain of the tree’s type. I know I can’t be certain that this tree is the one from which the branch fell, since it’s a public park around which children drag branches all the time, but I still wanted to try my best to thank the tree that had given it.

I asked the tree if I could take this branch with me and vowed to visit it regularly. Albion talks about how a staff gives the tree the ability to move and travel as it never otherwise will. I am taking this to heart. Bodfish also says that it shouldn’t be oak, but he provides no reasoning, and I’m not one to look a gift from nature in the mouth. Oak does have a tendency to check, though, so I’m keeping an eye on my staff while it cures.

I’ve since cut the branch more down to size. I returned the shaved bark to a flower bed near my apartment. And I’m saving the portions I’ve sawed off as future ritual offerings that I’d like to leave around different parks within and beyond city limits. In the spring, I plan to finish and seal the staff so I can take it on hikes and to rituals with my local RDNA grove.

In the meantime, I try to visit this tree every couple weeks. I bring small offerings, namely peanuts to leave for the squirrels. I hug the tree, talk to it, visit its friends and siblings in the rest of the park. On today’s particular occasion, I left a votive offering of dried mistletoe leaves that I tucked into various crannies in the bark.

I hope that the the long sleep is gentle on my tree friend. I hope that the life it sustains continues to find rest and safely shelter among its branches. I hope that it awakens in the spring to continue growing healthily.

[lovehugsandcandy]

Fine. (ColtxMC, RoD)

A/N: Happy Epilogue Day! I had started this for MC Day but didn’t quite make it. (I was listening to Jasmine Thompson’s stripped version of Funny and the line ”I guess freedom didn’t free you like you thought” just vibes with me.)  @rodappreciationweek

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~2,100 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (Infidelity. Not explicit but there are references to sex. Swearing.)

Summary: Ellie’s built a new life out East and it’s all fine.

“I’m fine.”

The response is automatic, floating off her tongue easily; she doesn’t consider it, not anymore, just lets her lips move and her brain wander.

She’s been fine for eight years, fine through her time at Langston and through grad school and dissertation and post-doc, fine through first dates and relationships and now her tony engagement, fine through every single second since she sped away from her past behind the wheel of a refurbished sports car and stepped back into shoes that had never known exhilaration, passion, or heartbreak.

That’s such a heavy course load! No one takes six classes. I’m fine.

Are you sure that you want to jump right into grad school? I’m fine.

Are you stressed planning your wedding? I’m fine.

How are you? Fine, fine, fine.

She’s fine. Everything is fine.

She ignores the hollow ache, right behind her rib, throbbing every time she thinks of how her life could have been, maybe should have been. She’s lucky she’s not in jail. She’s lucky she’s alive, thousands of miles from home, enjoying business dinners and boozy brunches and the trappings of success that sometimes feel like shackles.

Everything’s fine.

~~~~~

She shouldn’t be here.

Ellie should never have agreed to this; the memories LA holds replay vividly behind her eyelids and the juxtaposition of reality with the images she sees nightly makes her dizzy. It’s as if she never left, the haze still blanketing the city and enveloping familiar streets in a thick gauze. It’s a struggle to breathe, to exist here, but Edward was insistent that they marry in her hometown and her lips formed the answer before she could think it through. Fine.

She has a week to finalize the arrangements, clock counting down to when her steps would take her down the aisle, toward her future and away from a past that everyone knew she needed to leave behind. (Sometimes, the gap between what people know and what her heart yearns for gapes so wide that the ache physically chokes her, longing shaking her awake and leaving her to pace the apartment, dangerous thoughts screaming in the darkened silence.).

So she definitely shouldn’t be here, edging through the crowd, craning her neck for an unobstructed view of the starting line. When the engines roar, it vibrates through her chest and her heart leaps; she feels young again, soul awakening for the first time in forever, and, for a moment, the dull ache quiets.

The cars speed off, jostling for position, taillights fading into the night, flying as fast as in her memories. The crowd stirs, anxious for them to return, and she scans the lot, eyes tracing over vibrant colors and gleeful faces. 

Eyes wide, she turns and the shock that runs through her body is the closest to lightning she’s ever experienced. The crowd ebbs around her, and she can only see one figure through the bodies, posture tense and hands stuffed in his leather jacket. Colt looks like he’s seen a ghost, shock and disbelief painted across his flawless features, but she’s never felt more alive, cars roaring their return to the finish line, unable to pull her eyes from the electric stare in front of her.

She moves first, tentative steps making their way over to where he stands, stock-still.

“Hi,” she murmurs, with the bit of breath she can force through her lips. 

He stares at her, unblinking, until his eyes crinkle in the corner. “Looks like you’re in the wrong place, sweetheart.” She laughs; the spell has been broken, but she can feel herself falling prey to an even more seductive, dangerous pull. “What are you doing here, El?”

“I’m in town for a week. Wanted to check out some old haunts.” He studies her, eyes probing, and she cautiously slides her heavy left hand into her pocket. “How are you?”

“Good. Shop’s back up, crew’s doing good.” He shrugs. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” The words come easily, quickly, off her tongue and she flushes under the intensity on his face.

His face pulls into a frown and his eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’m…” Her shoulder quirks up and, for a moment, she hesitates; the words are heavy and bitter in her mouth, but she forces them out, anyway. “I’m fine.”

“Do... do you ever think you should be…” His eyes search her face carefully, and her left cheek trembles with the effort to maintain the same plastered-on smile she’s kept on her face for the past eight years, one month, and twelve days. And, like always, he doesn’t miss a thing. “More than fine?”

She doesn’t remember her response, the ride back to the garage. She must’ve held tight, fingers curled into leather and cheek resting against his shoulder blades.

She definitely doesn’t remember reconsidering.

They fall into bed as if no time has passed, as if she were 18 again, as if he were still grieving a father, as if she were still simultaneously dreading and hopeful for what her future holds. He takes her apart inch by excruciating inch and, when he finally slides into her, she is an absolute mess, voice cracking over his name, tears slipping down her cheek and breath hitching with every inhale.

She can’t bear it.

He fucks her like he’s been waiting years for it, desperate and wanton; she leaves teeth marks in his shoulder to stop the words from leaving her mouth, but tears spring to her eyes when she mouths them, desperately, silently into the curve of muscles.

When she was 18, she had no idea  what her next second would look like, let alone her life years in the future. And now that she is living in this future, she only wants the next second to stretch on forever.

She clings to him, fingers clenched and unwilling to let go; finally, the dull ache in her chest recede and her mind quiets.

~~~~~

They don’t spend the entire week in bed.

“You sure about this?” He asks, eyebrows raised, smirk fully planted across his lips, but he’s relaxed in the passenger seat, and the confident angle of his limbs puts her at ease. He trusts her.

“I’m sure.” 

She would have stayed in bed with him all week; hell, in her weakest moments, she never wants to leave, and the thought is far less terrifying than it should be. But Colt insisted that she take him for a drive, so she’s clutching the steering wheel of a Santagata worth more than a year’s salary back East and he’s grinning at her, all teeth and bravado, and she is powerless to do anything but pop the clutch and slam the pedal. His joyful whoop makes laughter bubble from her lips.

When she parks the car and the bay doors close, she dives across the console, adrenaline coursing through her veins and his lips heated on hers. Her hands burrow inside his jacket, seeking the warmth of his skin, and the metal of her engagement ring collides heavy with the zipper.

She pauses, only for a second, before her hands continue and she rolls her hips and it doesn’t matter who she belongs to because she can only sob his name into the curve of his neck. 

She doesn’t know what she feels (desire? shame? abject terror?) but one thing is certain.

She’s not fine.

~~~~~

She sneaks out one morning, when the sunlight is just peeking dull rays over the mountains and the tide laps slow and rhythmic against the sea walls, manor rising into the sky like a castle from a fairy tale.

Her heels echo as she walks on marble floors, and she ponders the difference between a castle and a cage. She talks about place settings (silverware glinting in the chandeliers like headlights in the night) and napkin colors (red like blood blooming on the shoulder of a blue suit) and her head spins with details and numbers.

She’s fine.

She slides her ring into her jacket pocket in the parking lot, metal cool to the touch, and slides into his bed before his eyes open. He’s still asleep, and she watches the rise and fall of his chest, rhythmic and slow, and the splay of his palm on her back is comforting, solid.

They eat at Kelso’s and she is transfixed by the curve of his smile as he takes her in; the yellow neon sign dims the counter and, even in a hazy tint, he is still the most attractive person she’s ever seen. Her heart patters in her chest, syncopated beat stuttering as she shoves a french fry in his mouth, and, for once, her heartbeat isn’t painful.

They race up the PCH, her hands clasped in leather and helmet resting against his back; they fly, the scenery racing past, faster and faster, and it’s unsettling when she blinks-when she closes her eyes, she sees one view and when she opens them, buildings disappear, flowing into pavement and fields and shopping malls surrounded by a sea of cars. They are speeding, flying over the pavement, and the world spins around her.

Blink and you’ll miss it.

She blinked, and eight years passed.

When she splashes into the ocean, hand tightly clasped by his, the water is warm but he’s warmer, pulling her close until she’s on fire, sun and heat flashing through her limbs, sea and sweat bringing salt to her tongue, and the world explodes into a blaze that rivals the midday sunshine overhead.

She’s not fine.

She’s amazing.

~~~~~

“Cheers!” 

The champagne glasses clink and Ellie plasters on that smile. She hasn’t worn it in a week and it’s unsteady, awkward, her cheek trembling with the movement. The liquor is sweet when it hits her tongue, bubbles and cheer colliding with the acid on her tongue. 

She’s getting married tomorrow. The thought is bitter as bile.

“How are you, really, El?”

“I’m...” She trails off, and Riya furrows a concerned brow. Behind her, Ellie can see her dad, beaming as he embraces her fiance, and Ingrid swirls around in a cocktail dress while Darius inhales fancy hor d’oeuvres and men in suits talk jovially and it’s like she’s in a different life. “I’m…”

She can’t finish the sentence.

Riya pulls her outside and holds her close as tears pour onto the silk of her dress.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Riya mutters into her hair and Ellie can only shake her head.

She doesn’t think it will be.

~~~~~

He’s under the bike when she strides through the bay door, steps purposeful, surging forward as if to hide her bloodshot eyes and trembling fingers. He stands, wiping motor oil onto his jeans, and his work boots are loud on the concrete; when he sees her face, he pauses, eyes cautious under the fluorescent lights.

They stare at each other for minutes that stretch like hours, and Ellie sighs before she speaks. “I’m supposed to be getting married today.” She glances down at her left hand; it’s naked, bare, princess diamond left on the nightstand of the hotel, glinting goodbye as she hung her head and slipped out the door.

“I know.” He crosses his arms and waits.

“But… this week… I just...” She took a deep breath. “It’s like you were doing everything in your power to make me stay.” His expression doesn’t change, eyes still guarded, but she knows. She knows him, and the lack of reaction speaks volumes. “Colt…”

“I wanted to make your decision fucking hard. I figured you were going back, but I wanted to make-“ His voice catches and she can’t pull her eyes from his. “I wanted to make it fucking hard to walk to down that aisle.” 

Her shoulders drop; he had made it impossible. “Colt...”

“Did it work?”

Her eyes fly to him and she takes him in, really studies him, from the things that are the same (leather jacket, tilt of his smirk) to the things that are different (the scar bisecting his eyebrow, the inexplicable softness in his eyes). Things have changed for both of them in the years that slipped away, and she doesn’t want to miss another moment.

“Ellie, come back.” The tears start again but, instead of the despair when she fell apart in Riya’s arms, now her smile beams through her fingers. “Ellie, don’t marry him. You belong here. Just come back.”

Her hair flies behind her as she races forward, slower than a Santagata but just as fast as she needs to be, and the leather under her fingertips and stubble tracing her jaw is solid, firm, real.

She’s not fine. 

She’s alive.

.

Tags (I am so sorry. I am really bad with tags PLEASE forgive me I am trying but life and Tumblr and everything is hard and I apologize if I miss you but I also apologize if I am bothering you):

Perma  @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard @desireepow-1986

ROD  @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow @troublemakerinspace @omgjasminesimone

Colt

@deimosensblog  @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @theeccentricbibliophile @dancingboba @tempesrature

[sootcloak]

Crow’s Shadow: Repair Required

The first part of a short, serial-style work I’ve been cranking away at for far too long. This is part one of a (planned) three-part series. You can find the second part, Carrion Circle [Here]. I’ll add another link to the third part once it’s up. Beware of some major spoilers for Stormblood if you’ve not gotten through it yet, and some general spoilers for the MCH quest kinda. Lastly, if you’re a purist when it comes to in-game lore, you should be warned that I take some creative liberties in regards to the character around whom this blog is centered. Also I hate this hellsite’s text post coding, it makes the formatting look so goddamned wrong.

3064 words, featuring Hilda the Mongrel, Rostnthal the Reborn. Centered around a wounded OC, a tense cross-country trip, and the looming specter of a dangerous foe.

    Hilda stares with a rare, dumbfounded expression on her face. Curled in a ball on her old, ratty armchair is a familiar, Lalafellin woman. Her sickly, pale skin, greying blonde hair, and scarred face were unmistakable. Vavara had become a common sight around Foundation ever since the gates were opened after the Dragonsong war. Her work alongside the Manufactory and Lord Stephanivian was shrouded in some level of discretion, but it was no secret that she was an expert in Garlean-style magitek.

    But the whispered words which surrounded the woman seemed an understatement, if her eyes were to be believed. It was rare to find Vavara out of her usual Company-style overcoats. The few times she was caught out of uniform, she was in battle-ready armor instead. Now Hilda understood why. Her body, small and compact as it is, is almost entirely mechanical. Covered in intricate layers of dull, grey plates and brassy webbings of cogs, she looks not unlike the tools and machines of Idyllshire. Like clockwork muscles and cable tendons, her body is simultaneously relaxed and completely rigid. Here and there, where the metal fades, she can still see skin. Sickly, near-grey, and oddly textured like a doll’s porcelain, but still skin. Tangled in a blanket, eyes shut, and body snoring in strange, buzzing whirrs, it takes a few moments of shock to realize two more things.

    First, Hilda hadn’t ever told Vavara where she lives. Nor had she given permission for the huntress to remain with her.

Second, one of Vara’s arms is missing. Just gone. A bare, brass socket lies exposed to the air where it would meet her left shoulder. Hilda glances around, but the limb is nowhere to be seen. There is, however, a note on the end table besides the table. The messy, big letters on the page are of an immediately recognizable hand.

        Hilda,

    Vavara was out testing one of Stephanivian’s new gizmos last night. Something went wrong, it’s all a bit fuzzy until we can look at the damned equipment, but it blew up in her arms. She soldiered on as well as you’d expect from her, but when we caught up to check on her we found her in shambles. We were all as surprised as you probably are - what with all the metal bits and all. Save for Stephanivian, that is. Seems he was already aware of her illness condition state whatever you call that. She was adamant that she not be seen like this, so we needed a place to keep her where untrusted eyes wouldn’t find her.

    So I borrowed a key from Joye and let her in. She should be asleep until tomorrow morning, or at least that’s what Stephanivian says. He’s making replacement parts for her damaged bits, but he couldn’t give me an exact time to give you as to when they’ll be done. I’ll have Joye run over as soon as he has an estimate.

    I know it’s a good bit to ask of you, but we all owe her and hers a solid turn. This is a good chance to make good on that. Please look after her for a bit, and don’t let her run off and do anything dangerous, no matter how angry she may look. She’s too busted up, at least based on how we found her, to really argue with you.    

    Keep her safe for now,

    Rostnthal

    Hilda’s hands crease the paper, her eyes drifting back and forth between it and the sleeping woman. 

    “Well shite. There went my plans.”

    Vavara’s eyes open to the dim, flickering light of a nearby hearth. Her body hums with angry, buzzing pain. As she takes in a ragged, grinding breath her eyes scan around the unfamiliar room. She can feel the damage all throughout her body. She can feel the way her breathing hitches every three-and-a-half seconds. The way her right arm can’t rotate exactly as it should. The way her eyes won’t focus. Her ears are ringing, ever so slightly. 

    There’s dust in the air, quite a lot of it. The furniture strewn about the stone room is old, patched, and covered in a thick layer of dust. The armchair she’s nested in leans to one side, one of the legs having been replaced by a few stacked stone bricks. The wood floor is rough, coarse, and looks like the kind which would give splinters just for standing on it. The hearth, a simple stone fireplace built into one wall, is surprisingly clean. The ashes are swept, the firewood is fresh. The fire is painfully bright. The heavy rugs thrown beneath some of the seating in the cramped, dusty living space are all torn and resewn. Her eyes trail to the bare walls, where a series of hangers stand.

    Through blurred sight, she can see a leather jacket and a rimfire hanging in it’s harness. From color alone, it’s clear they’re neither Vavara’s old service overcoat or her custom revolver. A wave of cold anxiety washes through her, her feet finding the floor and stumbling towards the door. 

    She only makes it a few feet. One of her legs crumples at the knee with a disheartening, metallic crunch. She bites her lip, forcing back a whimpering cry before it can rise in her chest. Instead, she takes a few gasping breaths, each huff sounding like a music box turning through broken cogs. Finally, she gets up the strength to push herself up to her feet again.

    She dully registers quick, urgent footsteps coming from behind her. A steady, insistent hand finds its way just beneath her arm. The tense springs fused with half-dead, ceruleum-greyed skin have a sickening texture, like that of a corpse held together by staples and rope.

    “You’re too hurt to be runnin’ about. Ye’d best come along.” Hilda says, hiding the way her throat closed in a queasy, silent gag. Vavara’s remaining arm twists back, trying to grasp at Hilda’s arm. It clicks and creaks, something inside the joint protesting with quiet, metallic groans.

    “Hey.” Hilda pulls and twists her around. Their eyes lock for a brief moment. Vavara’s dull, foggy eyes sparking with a quick moment of recognition.

    “Hilda?” Her voice is a surprisingly deep rasp. The  grasping hand goes still, it’s steel claw-tipped fingers relax. “Is that you?”

    “Who else? Let’s get you back to the chair.” They shuffle back to where Vavara woke. After grabbing an old crate and dragging it in front of the worn armchair, the two sit next to each other. Hilda sucks in a breath, and breaks the brief, momentary silence.

    “I imagine things feel a bit rough. Been on the bad end of an explosion once or twice myself. Here, read this. It’ll do some of the explainin’ for me..” She hands the crumpled letter from Rostnthal to her, waiting quietly as it’s opened back up. Vavara’s eyes slowly, carefully track across each messy line of text. When she looks up to Hilda again, the other woman is already speaking.

    “Joye came by earlier today, while you were still out. Said parts were being manufactured, but some things needed to be brought in from out the Holy See. It’ll have to get cleared by the Temple Knights, checked for contraband and the like. All said and done, it’ll take about three weeks for them to get all your uh… Parts?” She looks to Vavara for confirmation. There’s a single, quiet nod.

    “Yeah, it’ll take about three weeks for them to get all your parts made. Till then, you’re gonna need someone to watch your back, I’d imagine. I know one of your friends has an arrangement with Count Fortemps, so if you’d prefer-”

    “No. I’ve no intent on relying upon his charity. I have not earned it.” Vavara’s voice is a steady, rasping hiss. No malice or ill-will is born in the words, just a stubborn, quiet kind of pride.

    “It’s not always about whether or not you’ve earned it, just-” The glare Hilda gets before she can finish is petrifying.

    “Fine, fine. You can stay here, then. Can’t promise I’ll be here all day, but you’re resourceful, and so long as I get you a cane you could even get around by the looks of it.”

    “No.” Vavara shakes her head.

    “What? Then where will you stay?” Hilda says, eyeing her up with concern. Vavara’s face is a knitted, frustrated mess barely concealed by her usual stoicism. Her narrowed eyes, knitted brow, and curled lip speak volumes. It was rare for her to emote at all, let alone so clearly.

    “I was only meant to be in Ishgard for two days, at most.” A strange, tense note rides in Vavara’s voice. Concern, or outright fear? Hilda hadn’t seen her like this since she’d returned from Ghimlyt, spending days on end beside the Warrior of Light’s bedside, waiting for him to awaken. Guilt-racked and uncertain. When her voice picks back up, it’s a mess of anxiety and fear. Each word comes out faster, not raising in volume but in intensity.

    “I cannot stay here. I have to return. I need to-” She stops herself, coming to a sudden and abrupt halt. With a clenched jaw, squinted eyes and a tense neck. she pulls a breath in. The tension does not leave her, resting on her shoulders and in her jaw.

    “Thank you for watching over me.” Vavara says, opening her eyes to match Hilda. “I will need that cane. I have a journey to make. Please tell Stephanivian I will return to collect the parts when I am able.”

    “Now hold on.” Hilda squares her shoulders. Her eyes unwaveringly stare into Vavara’s. 

“You’re barely able to see straight. It took you near a full minute to read through a half-page letter. You had to ask if it was me. I don’t remember looking much like another half-breed.” A potent frustration rises in Vavara’s body, but before it can exit in a shout, Hilda continues, Brume accent kicking into her words as she grows more insistent.

    “I’ll be coming with ye. I’ve deputies with the Hounds for this exact kind of situation. And before you try and tell me I’m not, I’d remind ye that I’ve already seen why yer always either in battle-gear or a great-coat. Whatever secrets yer keeping still, ye can keep them. None of my business. But yer health? All the Hounds’ve had their skins saved by ye at least once, meself included. I owe you this much, at least.” Hilda stands as she finishes speaking, walking across the room to wear her jacket and rimfire are hung. She snags them in one hand, turns and gives a confident smirk.

    “So let me just run and get that cane.”

    She’s out the door before Vara can muster a reply.

    Later that evening, the pair stand outside the Gates of Judgement. Vara’s shrouded in her overcoat, her usual brimmed cap pulled tight over her head, greying blonde hair spilling out of it in messy tangles. Beside her, Hilda holds the reins of two birds as they’re hooked up to a small wagon. Some traveling supplies, a small smattering of goods, and some specialized supplies Stephanivian rushed to prepare all sit in nondescript, covered bundles.

    “You shouldn’t come with me. You have work here.” Vavara says. For perhaps the first time, Hilda notes how her breath doesn’t make mist in the cold air. She can’t help but wonder if her instinct was right, if the woman she’s known for years now, who’s saved her time and time again, is just a corpse pulled by metal marionette strings.

    She casts the thought from her mind.

    “And I’ve pressin’ debts to settle with you. It took no small amount of talking to convince Joye not to tell Rostnthal we were goin’. Else you’d have two peepin’ nannies.” Hilda’s forces a grim laugh.

    “It’s dangerous.” The statement hits like a sack of bricks. There was little anyone within the Warrior of Light’s circle deemed worthy of such a warning. Least of all the woman who frequently gives him a run for his money. 

    “Always is.” Is all Hilda can muster in response.

    “You should stay. I don’t want you hurt.” The words come out slow, still rasping with that metallic hiss under the wind. Barely audible.

    “I can’t protect you.” Vavara’s hand goes to the empty sleeve on her left. She looks up with foggy, dull eyes. Were they always so dim? She’s one of the Dunesfolk, aren’t their eyes supposed to be like glossy gems? Again, she casts the thought away.

    “Please. Stay.” Vavara’s words sound pleading.

    “Eh- ‘Ilda?” A deep, rumbling voice smashes the growing anxiety in Hilda’s chest. Heavy, crunching footfalls grow louder from behind. Both she and Vavara turn to look at a familiar, salt-stained face.

    “An’ it is!” Rostnthal reaches them in no more than three strides, his excitement plain on his face.

    “An’ Vavara’s ‘ere too, I see.” He briefly glances to the cart, still being loaded.

    “Ye headin’ somewhere?” It’s not really a question. His eyes fall onto Vavara’s. “Ye sure yer fine to be travelin’?”

    She nods.

    “Good!” He guffaws, a single loud bark of a laugh. “If yer good enough to be out-n’-about, then so am I! I’ll keep with ye. After all, it was cuz I was too drunk to test the prototype cannon that you ‘ad to. I get hurt like that, chirugeons patch me up over a couple nights. You?” He gives an awkward, knowing shrug.

    “So, it’s my fault yer in this mess. I’m comin’.”

    It isn’t really negotiable. Even as Vavara’s takes a rattled breath to retort, he’s already stepped up into the cart proper. 

    The chocobo-hand stands up from besides the cart,

    “All good to go!” He shouts over the wind.

    The three step up, and Hilda spurs the birds on towards Gyr Abania.

    “Ye packed some booze, yeah?”

    Vavara shakes her head. The groan he makes can be heard from the Gates.

    Rostnthal’s voice echoes along the snowy paths of Coerthas, oft-untrodden paths suddenly as lively as a back-alley bar. He’s taken mindful, measured swigs of his flask. He snagged some few supplies from Dragonhead at a painful price, but he had very little considering the length of the journey. Sensing the growing tension, Rostnthal had sung every diddy he knew at least twice from his spot lying in the back of the cart. He’d sung the one about the slaver at least four times, and the one about the Admiral more than eight.

    “So what’s all the urgency about?” Hilda’s question breaks through the bars of off-key song. 

    “I left someone in the wild mountains, where I take my rests between work. He is unskilled, though his training has shown promise. An old enemy of mine resurfaced during the Ala Mhigan Rebellion, and has since been hunting me, and I him. Should I leave my student in one place too long, he’ll be found. And he’ll be killed.” Her words are clipped. Rostnthal’s singing stops.

    “Y’took an apprentice? So the ever-cold Lady Ashenheart does have some warmth left in ‘er.” He sounds genuinely perplexed. “An’ here I thought ye were all business and bad blood with the Empire. Rumors’d’ve me believe ye’d never have time for teachin’.”

    Her gaze towards him could curdle milk. He just laughs his guffawing laugh, gently slapping her good shoulder with one hand.

    “My strength comes at a cost, unlike that of my peers. It requires that I rest for long periods of time after difficult excursions. In recent times of repose, I took to training three such students in total. Two of whom have long passed beyond a need for my guidance, if they ever truly did need me at all.We have not spoken in some time, I have no fear for them. The man who hunts me will not seek them. My current student, though, is untrained, reckless, young, and a danger to himself more than his opponents.” Her voice lapses in and out of nostalgia and strict concern as she speaks, eyes shutting as she speaks.

    “Sounds like a handful of a kid. An��� this ‘unter. Ye think he might meet us there?” Rostnthal’s voice dips into a grim resolve.

    “I do.”

    “Care to share, or are we just going in blind as newborns?” Hilda says, eyes locked on the road and her surroundings. The sun is low, and shadows stretch across the road cast by trees and stones and looming mountains. It will be dark soon.

    “His name is Llain. He and I were once… Compatriots. He is possessed of a strength similar to mine. I will admit freely, he is better suited to it than I have ever been. He took to steel, ceruleum, and magitek as a bird does to flight. He has done so more safely, and more efficiently, than I have. We have not crossed blades directly for too long, to make any assumption on his methods now as opposed to the man he once was would be dangerous. All I can say is this: A direct confrontation is something we will not win. He is a worthy and cunning foe for even the mightiest among us.” Vavara says. Each word is slow, methodical.

    “So we just grab the kid an’ make dust?” Rostnthal thumbs at the cap on his flask, glancing up at Vara with his good eye. She just nods. It’s enough.

    Vara’s hand rests uneasily on the grip of her revolver. In her nostrils she can smell smoke and oil and flame. In her eyes, though snow and tree and stone race past her, all she can see is a burning Castrum and a vengeful shadow in the fire.

    How simple her escape felt then. How powerful those first, few, small implants made her feel. Her clockwork muscles tense. Perhaps if she’d been more careful. If she hadn’t allowed herself to become so gravely wounded so frequently, she would still-

    A tap on the shoulder shakes her out of the old memory. She looks up at Hilda, whose eyes are still locked forward.

    “We need to go through the night, or should we rest?” She asks, tone all business.

    “You rest. I’ll drive.” Vavara answers. Hilda just groans, before stepping awkwardly, carefully into the back next to Rostnthal and snagging a fur blanket from one of the many bundles.

    Rostnthal waits a while, and then starts to sing again. Fewer lively, old tavern diddies, and more of the songs skalds would sing when night came to call.

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/acceleration-of-polarity/

Acceleration of Polarity

Acceleration of Polarity

By A Gift From Gaia

Energetic Navigation – FULLY LOADED

Did someone hit the acceleration button for polarity? Has gravity been turned off? This energy is beyond magical, super intense, super exquisite and I’m witnessing cosmic surfers reach off the charts high waves! IN-CRED-IBLE

High waves are most definitely what we are experiencing, super charged photonic light from the cosmic rays has been pouring through, however we are now due some Solar Winds to bring forward some more action energy, some more super movement for the new codes we have been storing within our DNA to be activated. Protons are currently raising which tells us our magnetosphere is charging so many of the super sensitives will begin to feel the shift now, the prediction is for a G1 storm which is likely to take folk deep within or deep OUT, this will simply depend on how many of those sand bags, those weighted timelines you are prepared to cut away, but DEEP is most definitely the word that springs to mind.

The acceleration of polarity is making itself known within the collective, a divide, something resembling the Grand Canyon is appearing in the 4th frequency, folk dancing with ego and choosing to experience the depths of their minds creations, returning to outdated experiences to realise the attachment programming, where they do not value LIGHT, where they do not value love which ultimately is a lesson in Self Love, the trouble with the 4th frequency is there is an expanded awareness somewhat, which holds responsibility in which the soul will be pushing for those to experience, a guiding light onto the path of the heart where we experience the ultimate heart awakening and begin living as Soul on Earth in Flesh. Yet on the other end of the spectrum there are the cosmic surfers, those who have moved through the 5th portal and there have been a number who have come through are finding the new space of peace, joy and abundant everything like living the dream, clear minds, open hearts and very comfortable in the zero point space where everything begins to move, what this does, energetically speaking is creates acceleration for all, for the entire collective as the cosmic surfers stretch out the bandwidth with their rapid expansion, those anchored in the 3rd dimension of blind bliss, the matrix makers who act like busy little worker ants, securing and building pointlessly hold the old earth frequency in place (for now) which stretches out the 4th frequency so that ALL may be SEEN and more can move from their mind awakened state into their heart awakening, and this is the space in which we see the quickening taking place, everything is pulled, twisted and stretched to the maximum in order for all to be Seen.

Not all are yet able or willing to enter the pain barriers, not all are able to see that behind that smoke screen of what they believe to be true, exists a whole new world designed with the codes of the 5th frequency, that of unconditional love, those who have been surfing the lower aspects of the 4th realm often bounce back into their sleepy space to continue their addiction of chasing the happy dragon, an addiction that this race has been running out for aeons, a false belief that happiness is like a pill, we receive it in small doses when we have been good, our parents and our parents, parents trained us well to believe that happiness isn’t a stable frequency – more blind lies.

I am sure it wont be long before those choosing the old, to go back, start using that word “SORRY” and if you hear it, if you experience the “jumpers” humbly returning, then please remember a sorry is a changed behaviour ONLY and perhaps give a reminder that there is no need to apologise or explain to the out there world, but to realise those words need to be redirected within, for their own Self to feel forgiveness of the highest order.

If you find yourself teetering on the edge of a timeline, if you haven’t quite jumped yet then take some advice……

DON’T GO BACK

Not even with a little extra awareness, not even with a safety plan, not even with a guide…..how much more of the SAME do you need to see, it becomes self sacrificing and trust me when I say, as we now move ever closer to the great conjunction in January, going back is going to feel like suicide, that’s one heck of a ego death you are choosing, however perhaps it is needed, perhaps to connect with the heart the entire world needs to snap in half to be able to see the core.

In order to release these attachments, in order to snap the back of duality it really is a case of doing the opposite and from here observing the fallout, which will highlight the anchors that held you in so tightly, for you to begin dissecting and breaking down the old codes.

Now enough of the old world HOW ABOUT THE NEW!

Goodness me its been quite a wave, cosmic surfers, those chasing the waves out front are expanding in their amazingness and experiencing realities that are now feeling so spacious, everything forming, aligning as the focus purely now goes onto the physical vessel and the realisation comes in that in order to CARRY on the experience MORE must be given to the physical body. New exercise routines, new diets, new ways of living consciously, tweaks and turns to improve the ability to hold and carry this light begins and light bodies begin to come online in the higher frequencies that attract the Soulstyle life we are to experience. Everything becomes simple, there are no requirements to push, to exert energy in fields not along the path, to seek, to correct, to debate or to state, its just simple, its easy and it all comes home to YOU.

Home is where the heart is after all…..

Todays energy brings some beautiful harmonies for us to play in, the moon makes a number of trines so I will give a brief explanation.

Moon trine Juno, well Juno is really coming into play now as the Sun, Venus and Mars play around this little gem in our sky. Juno represents commitment, partnerships and if I continue lots of things that create attachment out there in the timelines of realities so I would like to quickly invert this, commitment to Source (being you, and All), the partnership or the union of the masculine and feminine within YOU, lets entirely release this out there stuff, everything is reflective of the internal vibration, so as we know, by making the adjustments within and by holding a love frequency we attract realities aligned, lets keep the focus entirely on Self expansion…

So as we know the Sun, Mars and Venus are about to conjunct with Juno who requests the union, the balance, the harmony between the masculine and feminine within. The Moons trine today feels somewhat like a preparation so whilst in some octaves they will be experiencing the emotional streams of realising what is out of whack, this is ultimately preparing you for the meet just hours away, tomorrow the sun conjuncts Juno and they begin entering the frequency of Regulus, this trine could work like a little trickster, as we know trines are harmonious so it may be easy to drift into the false beliefs as the trine makes this soft, its easy to MANIPULATE through the false kindness, the relief that this moment is more comfortable, that “they” are being reasonable “today” BUT and we love big BUTS this is likely to give a lesson for you to look deeper into the truth, the agenda and the subconscious drivers as this trine energy could well be flipped on its head and the TRUTH, the behaviour rears its head again as we move into this Virgo party now about to happen, like walking into a party dressed in fancy dress but the invite clearly stated casual dress, not paying attention? THINK you know better? Like dancing with illusions? LIGHTS ON, you will feel the spotlight.

Those of open heart will feel this super nurturing energy, expanding on the already established equilibrium, moon trine juno is a get out in nature day, it’s a day to play with the magic, to create something from the heart, a stream of purity to play in.

Moon trine Venus echoes this, open the heart, come back home, kick off those shoes and dance barefoot to the harmony of Earth, this holds some super relaxed tones to again get creative, enjoy some leisure time and nurture Self just that whole lot more. Its an energy to practice the affirmation of SOFT, tone everything down, walk softly, touch softly, speak softly and through this focus it will be super easy to spot the harshness….FOR you to then realign and deal with in order to continue the these divine experiences.

Moon trine Pholus gives new direction, new coordinates are being seeded and there are glimpses, day dreaming, feeling into what the new timeline will be like, this can make folk feel a little ungrounded however it is up in the heights that we receive the most amazing dreams and from here it is your role, as ground control to begin planting them in the fertile soil of reality.

Whereas Pholus now also trine to Venus brings in a huge amount of heart vibration, a huge influx of feel to direct the inner masculine into a space of Deal as we listen to the whispers from within. This also could play out in the reality as a female bringing assistance or perhaps a new perspective for you to see and change course…..watch out for angels in female form, these changes will be long lasting.

Moon trine Mars creates that harmony I just mentioned with the venus pholus transit, this feels like a compliant masculine energy that is ready and able to take direction from that internal feminine whisper. Confidence increases, an inner knowing that it is exactly right to follow the heart, and it feels safe, comfortable and aligned……because it is!

Mercury trine Jupiter gives an expansion on the data we are currently receiving, MORE, MORE and MORE we scream when tuned into the hearts requests however the lower octaves can experience a lot of mind junk bubbling up to the surface, things can get noisy and the most perfect way to begin un-muddling the muddle is to journal it all out, spend time (self love) removing the noise from the mind and get it on paper, start the evaluations, start seeing what is conscious and what is unconscious, the chances are everything that is loud is simply unconscious and really needs a data dump, get it on paper and hold a little ritual of burning it, purifying it out.

Moon will be moving through a conjunction with Uranus today, more direction changes to be expected, the Moon is currently at 0 degrees and Uranus at 6 degrees Taurus, so this charged moon with its aspects today is really getting down and dirty in the foundational spaces of you, demanding that all old emotions are released, like a clear up as she begins her task of dissolving what no longer allows the structure, the foundation to hold securely. This may reflect in your patterns in terms of self love, cosmic surfers will no doubt be pulled towards making changes in diet, exercise and aligning their way, their habits to a more light aligned way, those in the lower octaves generally look at the relationships, the attachments and when Uranus is in play we often see a lot of reactive activity, which creates somewhat surprise revelations, in order to shift direction. Sudden roadblocks tend to appear, emotionally charged to highlight this road is now fully closed.

All in all it appears the collective have some huge opportunities to shift in a completely new direction, and if this solar wind appears this will assist no end, changes are here for the picking.

You only need choose………do you choose the light of your Soul, do you choose Source, do you choose unconditional everything and to be a part of creating the new world

Or do you choose the stress, anxiety filled and cyclic patterns of the people program.

*****

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[ofnifflersandkings]

Title: Half Agony, Half Hope Character: Credence Barebone A/n: man i love writing for this boy, what a dear, i promised this request a few days ago but i hope the anon still likes it.

•

“Somethin’ on your mind, honey?”

The sudden voiced pulled Credence from whatever trance he had been under, his head snapping to meet the intense gaze of the blonde witch.

“What?” The question caught him off guard, and the way she had fixated her attention upon him made Credence shift in seat uncomfortably, quite like a child would when caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

“Oh, jus’ looked like you were real focused on something.” Queenie slightly drawled the syllables of her words, a mischievous glimmer hidden in her eyes.

Credence blinked, his gaze trailing back to where it had been several minutes before. And as soon as he registered what exactly he had been fixated upon, the uncomfortable feeling returned again and his eyes shot down to the book in front of him.

Queenie gave a silent laugh as her prediction had been correct, she didn’t even need to use her legilimens powers to know what was going on.

The harshness of Winter had finally ended, but now New York was living through the dreadful part of the awakening of Spring. When there was beautiful sunshine one day, and a bitter cold chill the next.

They had lit the fireplace as soon the sky began to turn into a lovely shade of navy, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. Seated before the fire, several journals scattered around them, was you and Newt. A dark red blanket was wrapped around both of your shoulders and another spread across your lap.

From an outsiders perspective, it would have looked quite romantic. Two lovers bundled up by the fire as they read quietly alongside one another.

But Queenie knew better, the two of you were just going over the journals Newt kept over his journey across the world. While you can’t say you were as enthralled by mystical creatures as he was, you had always been the adventurous type, and the different wizarding cultures completely fascinated you.

“Credence,” Queenie whispered, a small giggle escaping her when he jumped. “You’re staring again.”

He frowned, now openly showing his displeasure since he saw Queenie was only teasing him instead of genuinely scolding him.

“I-“ Credence sentence broke off and got caught in his teeth, not sure if he was willing to let his thoughts out into the open. He had grown so much better since being taken out of his old home and spending more time with the Goldstein sisters. “-I don’t like it.”

Queenie beamed, happy to finally be making some process. “You fancy (Y/n), don’t cha honey?”

Credence felt himself grow embarrassed, he could feel the heat crawl up his skin and promptly flushed his cheecks.

Queenie giggled quietly. “Oh, that’s perfect! Say, why don’t you ask her out then?”

The question completely caught him off guard, Credence began to choke up on the cocoa that Tina had given him.

You and Newt turned your gaze back to him, and Credence felt himself become even more flustered.

“He’s alright!” Queenie stuttered out as she lightly hit him in between his shoulder blades. “You crazy kids go back to whatever it was yous was doing!”

You cast another glace towards Credence, offering him a small smile to ease the awkward air in the room from the sudden outburst. Though your intention were pure, Credence felt like sinking into the floor.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Queenie said, listening to all of the boy’s poor thoughts. “I’ll make it up to ya though, I just adore helping people find love!”

Credence didn’t have the heart to convince her otherwise. He also wasn’t entirely sure he could convince her that he didn’t need any help after his less than suave way of reaction to the mention of asking you out.

It had become a sort of tradition among your little group to go out into the city every weekend. Everyone’s always so busy during the week that by the time Friday night arrived, you all were eager to do something fun.

Queenie had her eyes keenly trained on you and Credence, taking in every glance and listening to both of your thoughts to assure that her plan was going to work.

She had to convince Newt that everything would go according to plan, and after several promises that she would take all blame if something did happen to go wrong.

The two of you were walking behind Queenie and Tina, Jacob insisted that he only had a few more things to do at the bakery then he’d join them around noon. Your arm was linked with Newt’s, something new between the two of you, but he had offered it when you all began walking the busy strests, so you didn’t think much on it.

Credence, on the other hand, looked on at the two of you unhappily. He didn’t know what exactly he was feeling, but he knew the way his chest felt unbearably tight whenever he saw the way you and Newt behaved around each other wasn’t something he enjoyed.

Despite that, he didn’t feel any bitterness towards the two of you. The last thing Credence wanted was to make you unhappy, and if that was with Newt, then he wouldn’t speak a word of feelings. And Newt had become a very close friend since his last night as an obscurus.

If anything, Credence was more angry at himself. You were such a wonderful person and he wanted to be able to be around you in the same way Newt was. You both would talk about things and he could practically feel the happiness beam of of you when the topic was something you particularly felt passionate about.

Credence noticed everyone had stopped moving and right before you crossed the street, Newt held out his hand to help you down onto the street, and your hands remained together until you reached the other side.

His chest felt heavy now, was there something that he missed? As far as he knew, the two of you weren’t officially seeing one another. You would have told him something, for Merlin’s sake Queenie would’ve spared him the embarrassment from yesterday evening.

With the last of his hope escaping him, and a sea of agony begin to fill in his lungs, Credence reached out and tapped your shoulder.

Credence’s eyes went wide when you turned around, for a second he was surprised by his own boldness when he realized his hand was still in the air and quickly cleared his throat.

“Something the matter, Credence?” You asked him, noticing his face get all red again.

“Uhm…” He struggled to find any comprehensive thoughts, a random sentence to shout at you to get himself out of the hole he’d thrown himself into.

As if some heavenly being took pity on the poor lovelorn boy before them, a few light raindrops fell from the sky. What started as a drizzle soon began to escalate into proper rainfall.

You were quick to pull an umbrella from your bag, noticing that Queenie and Tina had already huddled under one of their own, Newt was in the middle of opening one he pulled from his coat when you noticed Credence was left without shelter.

“Here, why don’t you join me.” You said, already holding the umbrella up to cover you both.

“Thank you.” Credence managed, blushing when he felt you both brush shoulder due to the tight space.

He looked over at you, he remembered from a film Tina had taken him to see where a couple walked in the rain, the man had held the umbrella while the woman leaned into his arm. Without thinking, his hand reached out to grab the handle, but instead rested right on top of yours.

You both looked at each other and then down at your enclosed hands, stuttering to fix the situation.

“Here, I can hold it.” Credence managed, taking the umbrella and covering you both more easily due to his taller stance.

“Thank you.” You told him, noticing Queenie looking awfully more happy than usual as she watched you two.

Queenie met his gaze and tilted her head over to you encouragingly before she winked and faced straight ahead again.

“Would you,” Credence started, looking down at you before clearing his throat and beginning again. “Would you like…to go out with me tomorrow?”

He couldn’t read your expression, and for a second he began to internally freak out until you smiled at him.

“Sure, where do you wanna go?”

Credence’s eyebrows raised and he felt a wave of excitement fall over him. “Anywhere you’d like.”

“How about the theatre? I heard they’re playing a good show tomorrow.”

Credence nodded eagerly, he would have been equally happy with anything that you would have picked.

A happy silence fell over the two of you, and Queenie turned around in time to see the large smile that took over Credence’s face when you place your hand around his arm to stand closer to him as you walked.

Her plan definitely worked.

[cullinankatsudon]

Yuri on Ice, Episode 1: Easy as Pirozhki!! The Grand Prix Final of Tears

A reminder this is the second time I've recapped this episode, and this is a more casual version, though also far more informed. Probably this is best consumed if you've seen the show, though you're free to wade in if you hadn't But you should watch the show.

So I watched this on my BD because I can’t ever stand to watch it streaming now that I have the high quality version—I put on the Crunchyroll stream for reference while I type this response up, and the difference is intense. Of course, I’m missing all the subs, which is an issue. I’m going off my memory, and since I almost never watch the version with text, it’s increasingly hazier. Though I notice more when I don’t have the words at the bottom, so.  I always read the signs around them and pay more attention to the details of the animation.

This time the first thing I noticed was, poor Cao Bin from China—he finaled last year but wasn’t even a blip on the radar this year. Will he be a dark horse next season? Time will tell.

Also, I love chibi Yuri. Like, I love, love, love chibi Yuri.

The next thing that occurred to me for the first time (I’m probably the last person to get this) is that Yuri Plisetsky didn’t burst into Yuri Katsuki’s stall to be an asshole. He did it to jerk him out of his downward spiral. Or…maybe it wasn’t that deliberate—maybe he really was just mad at him for flaking. But I don’t know. Maybe it was deliberate.

We get to the bit then when Victor shows up after the show’s over, dragging his suitcase, talking to Yuri P, offering a commemorative photo to Yuri K, and I just sigh, thinking, man, the journey you two are going to take. I’m already squishy and we’re like two inches in.

Now we’re at Hasetsu, and Minako is picking up Yuri—why is she wearing a ring around her neck? All of a sudden I’m imagining all kinds of backstory. Is she a widow? Is that her mother’s? Grandmother’s? Is this just a fashion thing? This is the sort of thing that’s going to keep me up at night.

And meanwhile Victor is in Tokyo. Honestly, was he expecting to run into Yuri? Hoping? How hard was he pining at this point? Also filed under “things keeping Heidi up at night.” Additionally “things fueling her fanfiction.”

Oh—Minako’s “Ahhhhhh!” in the scene where she finds out how much weight Yuri’s gained? That’s the first Japanese I ever read! That was my first moment of comprehension. I realized that was the letter A and it was Ahhhhhh and everything clicked and I felt so cool.

(This reaction thing is a little disjointed because I’m basically watching a second time and typing up my reactions. If you queued it up and played along it would track.)

I love the Yuutopia hot spring, and I want to go to an onsen. It’s on my bucket list now. In a big way.

Okay now I'm after the break, Yuri going to Ice Castle Hasetsu to skate for Yuko, having the flashback. I do love the moment baby Yuri has his gay awakening. Like, he doesn’t even quite get it’s his gay awakening. It’s mostly his Victor awakening. “I’ll just be a complete Victor nut. That’ll cure this.” Uh-huh. Just you wait, kiddo.

I’ve always found it significant, though, that Yuri doesn’t stay to pine over Victor’s performance but instead goes to make his own. That speaks so much to his drive and his forward momentum. If he were truly stuck, he’d be at home imagining what he’d be doing, not going out and doing it. I mean, he could have said, “I’ll go see Yuko after Victor skates.” No. He went while. That’s my boy.

God, but what in heaven is going to happen when Victor and Yuri skate on the same ice? It will melt, I think. Well, and Chris will ejaculate on it.

I love showing people who haven’t seen YOI episode one. I love how it captivates them. The story of a guy totally fucked over who decides to skate his idol’s routine for no reason except to lift himself up, and then his friend’s kids humiliate him online in a huge way and he wants to die, except this somehow gets him his childhood idol and secret gay crush and also skating rival as his new coach. Also, he gets to see Victor buck ass naked.

I mean. Everybody keeps saying Victor is extra. I would say Sayo-sensei and Mitsuro-sensei are the extra ones.

I love though how everyone takes him back in, how the Nishigori family adopt him and give him a private rink, how he watches Yuri and Victor training in St. Petersburg and gets jealous and determined (oh honey, just you wait). I love how the two twins cry when scolded and the other just sits there smiling serenely at the laptop. I love everyone’s reaction to the viral video, especially Victor’s determined expression. I mean, it’s like he just gets up and packs up his dog and takes off.

And then Victor in the fucking bath. That scene. That wink. That ass. Iconic as hell.

Oh—I FORGOT, yesterday. I think again I’m the last one at this party, but somehow I did not know that Georgi is the guy who sings the end credits? This blows my mind. I know that’s not uncommon for voice actors to sing the theme songs, but I totally didn’t see that one coming. He came out and sang it during Yuri on Stage and my jaw hit the floor. The things you learn.

THAT'S GEORGI. FOR REAL.

So, that’s episode one rewatched and in the can. I don’t know how many times this is. We’re definitely over twenty. That seems really low, too. It’s a lot. It’s still a great show. It’s a fantastic show. It makes my heart sing. And this episode is still like the first dance step in falling in love.

Tomorrow we shall go onward to episode two.

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A single stroke can change your world.

Xander Fairchild can’t stand people in general and frat boys in particular, so when he’s forced to spend his summer working on his senior project with Skylar Stone, a silver-tongued Delta Sig with a trust fund who wants to make Xander over into a shiny new image, Xander is determined to resist. He came to idyllic, Japanese culture-soaked Benten College to hide and make manga, not to be transformed into a corporate clone in the eleventh hour.

Skylar’s life has been laid out for him since before he was born, but all it takes is one look at Xander’s artwork, and the veneer around him begins to crack. Xander himself does plenty of damage too. There’s something about the antisocial artist’s refusal to yield that forces Skylar to acknowledge how much his own orchestrated future is killing him slowly…as is the truth about his gray-spectrum sexuality, which he hasn’t dared to speak aloud, even to himself.

Through a summer of art and friendship, Xander and Skylar learn more about each other, themselves, and their feelings for one another. But as their senior year begins, they must decide if they will part ways and return to the dull futures they had planned, or if they will take a risk and leap into a brightly colored future—together.

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Heidi Cullinan has always enjoyed a good love story, provided it has a happy ending. Proud to be from the first Midwestern state with full marriage equality, Heidi is a vocal advocate for LGBT rights. She writes positive-outcome romances for LGBT characters struggling against insurmountable odds because she believes there’s no such thing as too much happy ever after. When Heidi isn't writing, she enjoys playing with new recipes, reading romance and manga, playing with her cats, and watching too much anime. Find out more about Heidi at heidicullinan.com.