#please pretend the grain is part of the ~aesthetic

[insurrection-if]

Barbenheimer season: would the ROs watch Barbie, Oppenheimer, both or neither?

Aha, I've been gone so long that this answer might no longer be relevant by now. (；´∀｀) Apologies, truly.

Also, uh, admitting my bias here and now . . . I fell asleep during Oppenheimer. ( ;´д｀) But I also don't really remember what happened in Barbie all that well, so please take this answer with a grain of salt! Anyways . . .

Akil would prefer to watch Oppenheimer but is willing to watch Barbie if that's the preference of his company. He has no nostalgic sentiments about Barbie, but he does have an inclination towards the historical. Really though, neither movie would normally draw much of his interest on their own. Akil, being an absolute workaholic, is not one easily swayed by or much aware of pop culture trends.

Kamiko would defer the decision to whoever she was with. She has little interest in films, and less interest in the loud and stuffy environment of movie theaters. I don't think she would much enjoy either film, really. Any enjoyment from her would be derived from the joy / investment of whatever well-liked company that has managed to drag her to a theatre in the first place. And her enjoyment from their reaction would be more than enough to make the experience pleasant for her.

Sigmund would verbally suggest Oppenheimer, but he would have more enjoyment from the Barbie film due to the more comedic moments. And yet, it wouldn't really cross his mind to be the one to suggest Barbie if whoever was accompanying him didn't have some previously expressed nostalgia / interest in the film. Maybe if he saw some memes about the film, and knew they appealed to the taste of someone he knew and wanted to spend time with, he might come to the idea of recommending and watching it with them all on his own. Otherwise, it's a blip on his radar.

Imka would prefer to watch Barbie, enjoying the vibes and aesthetic of the film, and would most definitely have a far better experience than if she were to watch the more pensive and troubled mood of Oppenheimer. A viewing of Barbie would leave her pleased and charmed whereas a viewing of Oppenheimer would leave her thoughtful and quiet. She's open to either, however, and being such a people-pleaser, she'll likely feign an equal interest for both films if asked to pick which she'd prefer to watch / whether to watch both in order to direct the final decision onto someone else.

Elouan would suggest and prefer Barbie, not too keen on enduring a long and (to him) tedious film that takes such a serious and dour tone. I think he would enjoy Oppenheimer well enough if he were to watch it, though, and he'll have much to say on it in the hours after the film. If he really likes his company, he'll endure the "wasted time" of watching both and pretend that he's having a wonderful time through the whole experience. Movies, however, are a bit of a sore point for Elouan, so do expect some wistful nostalgia to distract him from whatever he's watching now and then.

Jae would push for Barbie right out the gate. The events in Oppenheimer do not interest her in the slightest, a fact further aggravated by the mere run time of the film. She doesn't have an intense personal attachment to Barbie dolls either (though she likes the fashion and messages she sees in the brand) but the trend of dressing up for the film would really catch her excitement. Expect her to go all-out for it and assist anyone who wants to join her for the movie with dressing the part as well.

Niccolò is down for whatever, whenever. He'll love Barbie as much as he'll love Oppenheimer, and he'll definitely want to hop on board the Barbenheimer trend the moment it comes to his attention. Dressing the part is a fun boon on top of it all, especially if he can coordinate his outfit with others to maximize the 'meme potential' (which is the phrase he will use without fully comprehending what it even means). He'll laugh and smile through Barbie. He'll watch with rapt attention all throughout Oppenheimer. The meme makes the entire experience a double win - one that becomes a triple win when it also gives the excuse of light-hearted goofing around with those he cares about for the sake of a mutually enjoyed meme / joke / trend.

Mutya would voice support for watching Oppenheimer if pushed into giving her opinion on which to watch and may just enjoy that more than the Barbie film. Mutya doesn't care much for the Barbie brand, but she would find the film to be serviceable as a piece of entertainment even if it's not quite to her tastes. Similarly, Oppenheimer would not leave a major impression on her, but she would leave the theatre with a nod of approval, nonetheless.

Fyodor would choose whatever seems the most lighthearted based on the promotional material outside the theatre, hence latching onto Barbie. Especially if people were partaking in the pink attire trend at the theatre which he would consider humorous and cute, thus assuming the film to be just that (humorous and cute) as well. Honestly, Oppenheimer would likely have one of two outcomes if he were to watch it: drag down his mood for the rest of the night (leaving him uncomfortable and a little lost as he watched it) or lulling him into a nap as it seems to drool on endlessly. Fyodor does not enjoy depictions of troubled homes and relationships, takes little interest in much anything academic or historical, and has a mind that is likely to wonder in a such a long conversation-heavy film.

Then again . . . The whole concept of a doll wishing to find her own human independence, and Ken’s struggle to find meaning beyond his blind devotion to someone he desperately wants to be loved by, might stir up more bad memories than it’s worth if he were to put much thought in it. It’s more than a little reminiscent of his former ties to Dollmaker and any current romantic prospects he may be pursuing (or even platonic ones, if romance is not applicable). Best to keep him distracted with snacks and comments during the movie so he doesn’t have an existential crises by the end of the night.

And as for the minor ROs . . .

Curadora would state that she'd prefer to watch Oppenheimer. She does enjoy historically based films and would hope that interest will translate to Oppenheimer as well. If she ended up watching Barbie, however, she would admit that she enjoyed that film experience more due to the tone and positive messages it attempts to convey.

Dearil would rather watch neither simply due to the public (and, in this case, crowded) nature of theatres that are prone to filthiness, incessant noise, and human eyes that seem to burn him with an unshakeable discomfort. If the films were to be available for an 'at-home' watch, he would much prefer Oppenheimer, not particularly keen on the aesthetics, humor, or brand of Barbie. Plus, as someone raised in deep isolation from the outer world for his entire upbringing, Dearil rarely passes up a chance to learn more about historical events and notable persons from the past.

Lempo would definitely push for Barbie, delighted with nostalgia, and would leave the theatre more elated than usual. She would urge everyone she knows to watch the film with her and partake in the trend of pink dress-up. She would absolutely adore the film from top-to-bottom and would be a bubbly ball of energy in the hours after from the great time she had while watching it.

Retriever would be down to view both, especially back-to-back for the meme alone. He doesn't have much nostalgia for Barbie, but he appreciates the often preppy and positive vibes of the Barbie brand as well as the nostalgia so many others have for it. On top of that, Retriever is the type to have a passive interest in American history which would make him keen on the depictions of historical events in Oppenheimer. Overall, though, he would have a better time watching Barbie, and would enjoy it most with others.

Mishka would have to be worn down by much insistence and coaxing to bother with either. Oppenheimer, however, would be a more enjoyable experience for them due to the historical nature of its events and the more complex, messy relationships it depicts. Might have a lot of questions after the showing. Maybe too many questions.

Thank you for the ask, and apologies again for the outdated response! （；^ω^）

[sxnwoo]

it's so christmassy all because of you!

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Since you didn't get this request on my bday because Tumblr sucks.. Some cute bday fluff/possible smut with Det Cutie Pants? Please and thank you. 😘

SO BELATED, but I hope it’s worth the wait 😘 Love you, sweetness! And, um, this gets pretty filthy toward the end (aka smut warning). 

Early in your relationship, you learned the flexibility and patience required to be with a police officer, especially one as dedicated as your husband. Special dates like anniversaries, birthdays, and sometimes even holidays became fluid and your family accepted this as your version of normal.  

So, even though Baxter had to work on your actual birthday, a few weeks later, he had planned a special night out to celebrate.

“Have you seen my tie? The dark blue one that goes with this suit?”

You went into your shared closet, running your hand over Baxter’s backside, giving it a squeeze, before you reached for another blue tie, this one with silver polka dots.

“Live on the wild side, baby.”

Bax chuckled and pressed a kiss to your wrist as he pulled the tie from your fingers. He gave your underwear-clad ass a playful smack as you moved away to pull your new, cherry-red dress off the hanger.

The sound of the doorbell made your eyes widen and you glanced in panic at your husband.

“That’s the sitter—”

“I got it,” Bax said as he adjusted his tie and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

You rushed into the bathroom to finish getting ready, and once you descended the stairs, you were greeted by a low whistle from your husband and an adorable smattering of applause from your kiddos.

“Mommy you look SO pretty,” your daughter said in a rush of excitement.

After doling out goodnight-be-good kisses and hugs, you slid your arm into Baxter’s and let him lead you to the car. The restaurant was about a forty-five-minute drive, but you were looking forward to spending this quiet time with your husband.  

“You do look SO pretty, mommy,” Baxter said as he reached over to grip your thigh, the edge of his hand brushing the silky material of your dress.

“I miss them already, but …”

“But?”

“I’ve missed you, just you, so much. I feel selfish.”

“There’s nothing wrong with us wanting a night for just us. You give everything to our kids, baby. We’re a happy, loving family because of you. You deserve a night, that’s just about you—whatever you want, whatever you need.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. When you opened them a moment later, you looked at your sweet husband and pushed away your feelings of guilt, resolving to enjoy your birthday celebration.

“We’re a happy, loving family because of you, too. I know you feel guilty when work keeps you away, but we are so proud of you.”

Baxter’s mouth was turned slightly down as he kept his eyes ahead, his hand moving slightly on the wheel as he signaled to switch lanes.

“Everything I do is because I want to make a safer place in the world for my family—is that selfish?”

“It’s not selfish. Making a safer place for us, means making a safer place for everyone else, too.”

Baxter’s lips turned up in a smile as he shot you a glance.  

“I love you.”

“Can’t wait for you to show me how much,” you said twisting in your seat to reach over and run your hand over your husband’s lap, his bulge just too tempting to pass up in his perfectly fitted suit.

“Save the 10-23 for later, baby,” he said as you leaned back into your seat with a huff of laughter.

* *The Restaurant* *

Reaching up to smooth the back of your hair, you could feel Baxter’s eyes on you as you followed the host to your table. You knew your body in that dress was driving him crazy, and you didn’t bother to hide your self-satisfaction, knowing he was going to get just as much out of your birthday as you were.

The restaurant was a softly lit, charming little place tucked out on the edge of the city. The tables were simplistic with no cloth on top, relying instead on the aesthetic appeal of the soft-honey colored, wide-grain wood. A row of tea-light candles flickered in the middle of the table, nestled inside of their golden-hued, geometricly shaped holders.

Baxter was always stunningly handsome, but there was something about the way his skin looked in candlelight that drove you a little wild.

The host pulled out your chair and you sat, Baxter undoing the button of his suit jacket as he settled into his own seat.

You talked and laughed over dinner with that comfortable familiarity that only comes with time. And when you were sure you couldn’t eat one more bite, you leaned back in your chair, dabbing at your mouth with your napkin, declaring, “That was fantastic.”

“I hope you saved room for dessert,” Baxter said, his blue eyes dark and dancing with the reflected light of the candles.  

You bit your lip and leaned toward him, your voice a purr as you said, “You mean we’re having dessert here, in public? How very criminal of you, Detective.”

Your husband’s grin widened as he reached under the table to give your thigh a squeeze, his large, warm hand roving just a bit higher than public decorum allowed, his eyes darting over your shoulder and his smile turning into a crooked grin as he explained, “I meant the chocolate cake they’re bringing out of the kitchen right now.”

“What?” you said dumbly.

“Happy birthday!” your waiter said cheerfully as he set the decadent miniature cake in front of you, tiny sparklers already lit and burning down as your mouth dropped open.

You knew you were blushing as you shook your head, delighted by the sweet surprise.  

Baxter pulled out his phone.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said softly as he took a few photos of you grinning behind the flickering cake and pretending to blow out the sparklers.

“I actually don’t know if I have room for this,” you said, your eyebrows arched as your eyes warred with your stomach.

“We can take it back to the hotel with us,” Baxter countered, not looking at you as he dropped the second part of your surprise.

“So, that’s it! A night—”

“More importantly a morning—”

“All to ourselves! Bax—that’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Your husband shook his head, his dark hair glinting in the candlelight.

“You deserve so much more than this, Y/N.”

“Don’t,” you said, reaching out to take his cheek in your hand, your thumb brushing across his lips. “You’ve already given me the world.”

He smiled before his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. Then, he picked up the fork on the dessert plate and cut a small piece of the warm, gooey cake. He brought the fork to your lips and smiled, “One bite?”

You made a show of opening your mouth and wrapping your lips around the fork, never breaking eye contact as Baxter fed you a bite.

“You’re going to taste so sweet for me,” he rumbled, not at all talking about that bite of cake.

You shifted in your chair, praying the check was on its way.

* *The Hotel* *

One high heel had been discarded by the door, its mate upside-down in the bathroom.

A man’s dress shoe was at the edge of the bed, but its mate was nowhere to be seen.

A dress, much too expensive to be crumpled on the floor, was mixed up with a man’s dress shirt, now missing a button, and a suit jacket was dangling precariously on the edge of a king-sized bed.

The only piece of clothing that survived your frenzied rush to undress was Baxter’s pants, which were draped over the chair closest to the bed.  

Baxter was already fucking you from behind, your head dangerously close to banging off the headboard, which was thumping rhythmically into the wall as you fought against outright screaming with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, fuck!” he groaned.

The phone rang and you growled in frustration, grabbing it and yanking it out of the wall, tossing it across the room, not caring as it hit the sofa and bounced.

Baxter’s pace stuttered and you turned to scowl at him, but your shoulders started shaking with laughter as you realized it was because he was laughing, his hands relaxing on your hips.

He bent his body over yours, hugging you tightly as he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“If it were the kids, they’d call our cellphones!” you protested.

Baxter’s silent laughter stilled as he said, “Have I neglected you this badly these past few months?”

“I was just really in the moment,” you said, pulling forward to flop onto your back and look at your husband’s glistening cock.

“Well where were we then, huh?” he said as his hips settled between yours and his lips kissed your neck.

As he worked his way up, he slowly shifted and slid back into you. You wrapped your legs around him and the two of you writhed together, slow and teasing.

“Baby—I need more,” you said from beneath him, lifting your head to bite gently at his shoulder, your mind unwilling to forget how good it felt to have him pounding into you from behind.

Baxter’s hands squeezed your breasts, his fingers kneading into the flesh as he pressed them together so he could suck hard on each nipple before releasing them with a pop and a bounce.

He pulled out of you and immediately replaced his cock with his fingers, making you gasp.

“Such a needy birthday girl,” he said as he slid in and out of you, curling up to stroke your sweet spot.

You clutched at the pillows around you, the crisp white sheets having long been loosened and twisted.

“Look how swollen you are,” he continued. “So desperate to come. On my fingers? On my cock? My face? Tell me what you want, birthday girl?”

A garbled noise of pleasure fought its way out of your throat.

You ground down onto his fingers, your body flushing as your climax neared.

“I want to come on your pretty face,” you hissed.

Baxter smirked and slowed his fingers as he dipped his head between your thighs, his tongue immediately laving at your clit, flicking quickly over it for a few seconds before he closed his lips around it.

You twisted into him, one hand grabbing at his hair and pulling hard enough to make him groan around you.

And with the vibration from his groan, you pressed his face harder into you as he sucked and you came, your thighs tightening on either side of his cheeks as he let you fuck his face while his cock leaked onto the sheets at your panted curses.

Your hand fell from his hair as you sunk back into the mattress, but you let out a tiny yelp of surprise as you were immediately jostled to the edge of the bed. Bax lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and pushed your other leg toward the bed, hooking your knee. His fingers dug into the flesh there to hold you wide open for him.

“Not done yet, baby,” Baxter growled as slammed back into you, your body trembling into another plane of existence as he filled your too-tight, too-hot, so wet pussy.

He moaned, long and low, and his eyes rolled back as his moth opened.

He didn’t move again until he bent to look at you, his beautiful, big blue eyes locking onto yours as he leaned forward, his hand coming to rest at the base of your throat.

“How hard do you want it?” he asked with a tender squeeze of your throat and a tiny thrust of his hips.

“Hard,” you growled.

Baxter pushed into you once, twice, teasingly slow before he shot you the wickedest grin you’d ever seen.

And then he started fucking you without mercy as his body glistened with a light sheen of sweat. He was in fantastic shape, but he had to work so hard to hold off his orgasm you could practically see the battle raging across his features. It made you feel powerful and damn sexy to know that you were the reason he wanted to lose control, the reason he had to fight so hard not to come.

He leaned even further into you, your leg now flush against his sweaty body as he held it wrapped up in both arms as he slammed into you, the sound of rough sex acting as a musical accompaniment to the chorus of moans uttered by you and by Baxter.

Your second climax was sofuckingclose and Baxter could tell by the flush that began to color your cheeks and by the way you tossed your head back, your throat bared, your hands yanking at the sheets, the pillows, whatever the hell you could reach. You could feel your own fluid leaking out of you, around his dick as your orgasm built to its breaking point.

“Come, baby, come for me. Come on my cock,” Baxter intoned.

This orgasm came from a place deep inside of your body, and you were certain that if you hadn’t already thrown the hotel phone across the room, it would be ringing off the hook as you screamed through this unbelievable wave of pleasure.

You were barely even cognizant of Baxter pulling out of you and stroking his cock as he came all over your chest and your stomach; the sound of his gruff voice moaning, distant as he let himself go.

When the bed bounced as he collapsed next to you, you shook off the high of your orgasm and turned your head to look at him, a stupid-silly grin on your face. You made a noise of unabashed delight as you shivered and ran a finger through one of the cooling ropes of his cum.

Baxter was the perfect picture of debauchery, his mouth open as he steadied his breathing, his dark curls a mess with the hair at his temples sweaty and even more wildly curled as he reached up to run a hand through his hair and to swipe at the tears that had gathered at the edge of his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you said, wide-eyed as your brain tried to remember when the two of you had fucked this good.

With a hum of satisfaction, Baxter forced himself up and off the bed, quickly returning from the bathroom with a damp hand towel.

He put one knee on the bed as he leaned over you to clean up his mess, laughing softly as he said, “Whoops,” and swiped at a dob of cum near your ear.

You giggled and stretched, your body still feeling weightless and well-loved.

Baxter tossed the towel toward the bathroom and leaned down to take your jaw in his strong grip. He kissed you with such genuine affection, it made your heart swell.

His lips hovered over yours as he quietly said, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“I’ll fucking say,” you replied, the two of you collapsing into a fit of laughter as you cuddled together, naked and warm, wrapped up in the miles of memories you’d already made, humbled as you thought of the miles of memories yet to come.

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[djiange]

I am so obsessed with your art. It is easily the most beautiful art I have ever seen. The emotion that you capture! The minimalist black lines with the insanely good colouring and the slight grain. The Lust, Caution art has been on my mind for DAYS! You are an artistic genius. The expressions, the pallete... The way you worded it was so beautiful. I know you said it would be difficult to write a fic about this, but please consider it. You have a way with words even if you don't think it! XXXX

Thank you so much!! I’ve been trying to stick to the "less is more" principle and keep the visual components simple but expressive. Glad you liked it!

And I'm really thrilled you found the Lust, Caution AU intriguing! It's prolly my favorite AU I came up with so far. BUT I gotta say creative writing in English is a pain in the ass and I decide not to bother myself with writing something plot-heavy like this AU... so I guess the fic won’t happen, sorry about that. 

Though I highly recommend Eileen Chang's original novella and Ang Lee’s film adaptation! The story’s premise is similar to Operation Anthropoid—with the background set in WWII, Morgana's counterpart who was a radical leader of a student resistance organization, recruited her fellow student Merlin's counterpart who had a slight crush on her, to be a part of their assassination of Arthur's counterpart who was a high-rank official in the puppet government under the fascist invaders' control—but Chang introduced an alternative narrative that deviated from the grand accounts of salvation and revolution in the tide of time when all the values tended to be futile and individuals were torn by the uncertainties of chaotic modern society. 

I know Merlin is a medieval show but—I don’t think the creators did this intentionally since it’s a family-oriented show—its narrative is pretty 20th-century-ish tbf. It is more of a cautionary tale than a heroic epic, catching a glimpse of paradoxes in modernism. Both Merlin and Lust, Caution cast off the metanarrative by bringing into focus specific local contexts as well as the diversity of human experience. There is for sure an urgency of eradicating magical persecution and renouncing muggle supremacy, but the story isn't about liberation or redemption; it’s about love.

Merlin neglects his duty of Messiah, betrays his own kin, and disregards his moral compass; instead, he endorses an oppressive regime, protects two tyrants who purge magic while exploit magic when they see fit, seals the imbecile man-child king in this fantasied bubble of honour and justice, and never actively promote the process of top-down reform of law enforcement or penal system, like deconstructing the profiles of criminals so that the causality between the crimes and identities would be enfeebled, or telling Arthur what JFK said in Berlin: "Freedom is indivisible, and when one man is enslaved, all are not free." (I always find it super funny that despite Merlins inconsistency and hypocrisy he genuinely believes his deeds can be justified by "I have no choice." If Merlin considers that Sophia and other guest villains deserve death or poisoning Morgana in Season 2 is a must-do (i.e. killing the killer or trading another's life for "the greater good" is valid), then he should have killed Uther long time ago. He never really lacks for choices; he just won’t accept the ones that likely breaks the shell he creates for Arthur.)

Merlin does all these in the name of love (not specifically in romantic/sexual sense, of course). And deep down he only knows too well it's unfair or unwise, but he simply suppresses the sentiment and pretends it's exactly what he wants. He would always stand by Arthur's side, especially when Arthur is on the opposite side of the righteous. The reason that love has been portrayed in various media of art from time to time isn't that it's morally positive; on the contrary it's beyond reason, conscience or aesthetic. It represents the profound dialectics in humanity, which makes the evil melt in tenderness and despair, and the good lost in callousness and mania.

Also, what hurts more is that Merlin doesn't even choose love over justice; he chooses his short-sighted obsession over everything, including the possible romance. While he says he doesn't want to put Arthur in that position, he doesn't do it for sparing Arthur from the pressure of choice-making; he doesn't dare to offer Arthur the choice to not choose him. Merlin makes the choice for both of them; he chooses this delusional, delicate balance between them for the fear of losing control, of losing Arthur (in every possible sense). If he loved Arthur like a normal love interest instead of this death drive planted deep in him, he'd have seen (or cared) people suffering in every passing second and helped Arthur see it too rather than being totally a slave of passion.

[sharp-fanged13]

Can you please tell me what is problematic with And I Darken? I wanted to read it but if it's too problematic I won't

Hi! Thank you for your ask!

This is just my opinion in general, I am not telling you to hate it or not read it, I just wish you would take it with a huge grain of salt. I do enjoy a lot of 'problematic' stuff myself, but I ABHORR PURIST MORALITY. Cancel culture and purist morality do more damage than good in general, but I deviate from the subject.

Look, the writing in general is pretty ok, the plot is sort of slow and didn't impress me much. I admit that she did her research, but over all - and this is why I turn my nose at in disgust - she tackled it with the entitlement and arrogance of your typical american. The fact that her husband is romanian excuses nothing about her approach.

She is disrespecting romanian culture, pretends she is the expert when it comes to romanian history and she romanticized the Ottoman Empire to the point where Wallachia (a Romanain Country - actualmente the Southern part of Romania) is seen as a hellhole and the Empire a progressive paradise.

Romania is so far from perfect, I'll be the first to list all the stupid shit we do and did. But you can't play black and white with medieval settings, especially not with actual real countries. And with all the shit the Romanian Countries did in the Middle Age, I think the hegemonic agenda and actions of the Ottoman Empire were at the very least just as shitty. I mean, if you don't trust me, ask Greece or one of the Balkan Countries. The Empire was an opressor - they asked for tribute in children and Gold. They used the children for their armies...they are not totally bad, but they are not some paradise either.

I think White just tackled the whole prospect trying to stamp on it FEMINISM and PROGRESS. It's just the work of someone who tried way too hard and ended up ruining everything. Vlad Tepes, but make him a woman is not feminism, pissing on people's past and culture is not woke. She just wanted brownie points so bad that it backfired. It's this angry directness that doesn't actually care to see all the nuances of things before using them to make some art medium cooler. You don't try to understand everything, you just pick something and hammer some progressive thought on it and pass it as woke. It's not actually that easy when you lack the willingness to understand. You just need aesthetics and it's quite disrespectful.

So, in general, it's her attitude that disturbs me. You can't use people's culture with entitlement and arrogance, I don't care that you visited Romania and are married to a romanian.

You may like the book, though. I just didn't think it's worth much story wise and the way she approached romanian culture annoyed me to hell.

Howl on! 🤗

[musicmixtapes]

September 12, 2018 Mix

Spotify Playlist 1. I Wish I Missed My Ex by Mahalia - This song is so uplifting and catchy and about something that is so empowering to listen to, especially after someone important comes in and out of your life, and for some reason, you just don't feel so strongly about it. The large vocal ensemble that is incorporated in the beginning as well as the choruses really magnifies the backbeat and the strength behind the words. From the artist about the song, she says, "...the inspiration came from the fact that I was like, “Why don’t I miss that person?” Like, “What is it about that person, and what is it about me that is making me really not want that lovely person over there?” which I think can be a very relatable feeling to the younger generations where things falling apart is not given the time of day as it used to. Also a great song to sing along and dance to. 2. Hair Slick Back by The Sneaks - One of my best friends Maeve showed me this awesome, totally underrated jam which has one of my favorite, cool bass lines ever. It basically drives the whole song and makes the eerie layered vocals stand out so much. It basically is comprised of a basically drumbeat, the vocals and the bass which is so low maintenance in theory, but when put together creates such an old school low fi punk vibe that new music generally misses out on. Personally, I love to listen to this song when I'm needing an extra boost of confidence and reassurance whilst walking down the streets of the city. It gives that perfect amount of "I don't give a fuck" and also "I care very very much about everything to the point of anxiety" which is a good aesthetic to try to harvest. 3. Consideration by Rihanna & SZA - The ANTI album is iconic and become a staple of many people's lives since it's release in 2016, but some of the songs become an integral part of life at various times and flow in and out based on the mood of life at a current position and time. As of late, I have been deeply reflecting on the emphasis other people put on one's own career and how other people's judgments tend to weigh one down and maybe do things a different way because it seems like the appropriate thing to do. But Rihanna and SZA negate the notion of fitting to people's expectations and sizing down in order to make other's happy. Instead they tell us to "do things my own way, darling" and not to take opinions of other's into too much consideration, to go against the grain and succeed in spite of and because of other's wanting you not to do so. Very empowering. 4. Swoon by Beach Weather - Being a picky snob with music selections is really difficult because it means that in social settings, you automatically judge what music someone else decides to recommend or chooses to play, right? But in a school where so many people have eclectic indie tastes of music, it is also a great things because it means connecting through cool, under appreciated artists and music, such as this song. Someone I'd never met before told me to put this song on when I had people over and I instantly loved it. It is essentially about a person falling for a woman who is both a horrible and wonderful person at the same time, because she has great qualities but causes so much pain and heartbreak to the speaker of the song. The beat behind it is also just super awesome to chill out to, which is always a plus. 5. I'm Not Crying. You're Not Crying, Are You? by Deer and the Headlights - This song is like... 10 years old, which is crazy because it's so awesome and I've definitely never heard it before, but am so happy I'm able to appreciate it now. My favorite line from this is definitely when he sings, "agressively mediocre in every single way" because it totally sums up how most of the world sees themselves and the difficulty in believing in oneself that one is talented and deserves to be where they are. Specifically, this track is about the struggles of being in a band and performing, but I see it as going much, much deeper than that. It's about things not turning out the way they had been pictured or painted out to be and having to deal with the effects of life's way of making things dull after a period of time, even if at one point, we really enjoyed these things/activities. Also the singer's voice is just so quintessential of modern alternative rock and is very along the lines of The Killers, The Strokes, etc... 6. Disorder by Joy Division - Well, I'm not sure that I can really explain this song any better than someone else already has, because it is one of the most popular tracks that Joy Division has released, with good reason (it is SUCH a jam!) As generously described by someone else, this song is about going through a cycle of depression as artists often do and, "This is the struggle of an artist, an unhinged and disconnected artist: how to take pleasure from the things around him, how to use them to make and create, instead of growing bored and detached from them and living solely inside his own head; the protagonist has an artist’s spirit but he can’t live in the normal world, he can’t take the banality of day to day existence as it wears him down and dilutes his artistic purity (spirit) and makes him lose his feeling." As a writer myself, I can totally understand the underpinnings of this song and how the spirit of sensation is so necessary within an artist's life. 7. (I'd Rather Be) Anywhere But Here by Honeyblood - Basically perfect for a person who feels like they are stuck in a relationship that is just unhealthy, boring, toxic, etc and would want to go away, but feels very tethered and then, finally, the other person detaches and the emotional struggle with knowing something is truly gone. On another layer, it also depicts being in an actual place, (city, town, suburb) that is just bland and dull and uninspiring and wanting to escape to somewhere new and seeing someone else being able to do that and the feelings that go behind that as well. The singer's voice is really modern indie style which we always love to hear because it paves the way for women not always needing to belt their entire throat out to sound good and get the attention they deserve. Oftentimes, I feel that this song is important to recall what it is like to be in a liminal space with another person where there is lots of tension, but not the good kind. 8. Copper Mines by Mothers - I think a lot of the songs I have been choosing lately I would enjoy just as much if they were poems instead of songs, which is very interesting because they don't follow the everyday format of a song as one would typically expect. This one is chock full of really intriguing and weird metaphors that don't usually come to mind when describing a person that you would care about or have mixed feelings for. The whole basis behind the "copper" part of the song comes out of the first verse when the singer sings that the person is like when you stick a penny under your tongue and how strange the sensation of that taste is. Just thinking of that mental image is really sour and stinging, which is probably the intended meaning and general emotion of the song. Musically, I really enjoyed hearing the strange melodies that the guitar took on in this piece and how it kind of ended up discordant with the vocals which is very connected to the meaning of the song. 9. Is There A Place I Can Go by Trudy and the Romance - People have discarded songs that are just generally "sweet and cute" themed as of late, because they are not cool and fresh, but why can't they be? I think this track perfectly proves my point because it doesn't do anything so extra and post modern, but just puts a sweet message in a very low fi jazzy kind of way. This is part of a kind of music where it can be regarded as a return to love songs, not because they are copying anything that old love songs used to do, but instead reinventing them and adding freshness to the genre and making love okay again. Just like the revival that many forms of art often has, love is one of them and we should appreciate that in a world that is so twisted in so many ways; in essence, we need love songs again, we need to see that sometimes darkness is okay to dwell in, but so is the light and so are the rose colored shades that those in love look through with such pleasure. 10. Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole by Martha Wainwright - On the other hand, this song is basically the anthem of the opposite of a love song. It's an anger song, a revolution song, a self message song, a song to say FUCK YOU to someone that really deserves it because they have made you feel down trodden and unwanted and unworthy. Very important as well in this day in age when people don't pick their words carefully and basically feel like they can say anything to you without any sensitivity training before it. "I will not pretend, I will not put on a smile, I will not say I'm alright for you, when all I wanted to be was good" is such a mantra that hits way too close to home for anyone who has every dealt with feeling inferior at the hands of a bloody mother fucking asshole who has made you feel that way. Wainwright's passionate and angry tone in her voice with only really an acoustic guitar playing behind really makes the meaning of the song slap you in the face with straight up truth. 11. Anthems For A Seventeen Year Old Girl by Broken Social Scene - Please don't be automatically creeped out by the muffled, alien sounding layered voices that appear in this ever cool and futuristic sounding monotonal song. It describes an insight into the life of a reckless teenage girl who wants love and wants to fit in and how she acts in order to have those things. This is taking that mantra of what being seventeen is like from an older perspective and grieving the loss of youth and innocence. It is described by another reviewer of the song as, “Anthems For A Seventeen Year-Old Girl” is sung from the perspective of a woman looking back on her days as a fresh faced seventeen year-old. A melancholy nostalgic chant pervades the song as the speaker comes to the realization that her present self is a far cry from the girl she used to be." The repetition of the lyrics are important because it portrays nostalgia as a time cycle that one keeps going back to. 12. Eulogy For You And Me by Tanya Davis - I don't know that I would necessarily regard this piece as even a song so much as a performative art piece because it is all spoken word except for the last two lines of it, which is sung very simply but aptly. Hearing these words ring through your ears is very important during a period in your life where you are trying to rebuild yourself when you have been torn down by any number of things (a love, a friend, time, a loss, family, depression, illness, etc it goes on forever) The metaphor of having a clock in your life at all times and having to deal with moving on and starting new and how to get on without a person who was a constant in your life for a long time. The thing to remember which definitely reminded me of this song is that people are not always going to be constants, like a math equation, they will be undefinable variables who sometimes float in and out and sometimes that has to be accepted. 13. Painter In Your Pocket by Destroyer - I'm sorry that I'm unoriginal but this song definitely isn't because of the whirlwind of metaphorical language and sensory images we get to have. But the song is told as being, “'Painter In Your Pocket”’s protagonist drunkenly confesses his love to a woman with which he has become infatuated. He’s admired her for years, and although he finds many of her behaviors and dispositions to be abhorrent, he is still fascinated with her. The song’s subject matter is examined through Dan Bejar’s characteristically charismatic and erudite lens." The trope of the woman described in this song is one that would typically be seen in movies as the woman who takes people for granted and thinks the world revolves around her but then still relies on one person to fall back upon because she knows he will be there to pick her up if something goes wrong. 14. Give It All To Me by Black Pool - The chords at the beginning of this song are literally identical to the ones at the beginning of Hallelujah and has the doo wop style of rhythm too which was automatically very pleasing to the ears to hear. Black Pool always has the ability to make a really simple tune very deep and emotional because of the passion and intellect behind the crafting of the words and the innate ability to create a short story out of something very basic. I think this song really points out the regular desire that all humans experience at one point or another where they want someone to devote themselves entirely to them and be the most important thing in someone's life, even if that is kind of an overbearing or ridiculous notion. But honestly, the notalgic 50s doo wop vibe of this really creates the going back to the ways of going steady in a relationship and caring about someone fully and truly and deeply. 15. Life Is Confusing by Langhorne Slim - Since I found this song last week, it has been constantly running through my head and on my brain pretty much all the time. I haven't felt so akin to a song in such a long time, but damn it if I don't feel every part of my soul in this short diddy about life being confusing and people being insane and having to accept that as something that will always be. It is also about the feeling of becoming super busy with all of these confusing nuances of life and having to see someone you care about less and less because of this hectic way of life. I think especially now I relate to this song because being in New York City means that you are constantly moving at the speed of light and even faster most of the time and that means that seeing people you care about becomes really difficult and forging close relationships can be seen as a challenge of sorts. The very folky acoustic sound of this meaningful tune is a really nice transition from summer carefree to fall chaos and all that a new start entails. 16. Shrike by Hozier - Ok so for anyone who doesn't know what the title means (neither did I when I first saw this come out the other day) it is defined as: "a songbird with a strong sharply hooked bill, often impaling its prey of small birds, lizards, and insects on thorns." This ended up making so much more sense in context paired with the lyrics of the song, which is such a Hozier thing to do, thus putting in a lot of thought to a title in order to make the holistic approach to the song that much more in depth. In terms of the song itself, I felt an instant connection while listening, not just because he returned to his roots of soulful guitar and singing, but also because the song's poetic flow is so strong and sparks the writer's mind within all who listen and appreciate writing. In terms of the EP as a whole, "Nina Cried Power" which was released just a few days ago, I cannot stress enough how amazing all of the songs are on their own as well as a collective whole and how much everyone NEEDS to go and listen to it at least once full through. I guarantee you will love it... I love it. 17. Sixty Charisma Scented Candles by Gabriel Meyers - This song kind of sums up all of the other songs that I have previously put in this mix, mostly because it talks about feeling lost, confused, searching for love and not knowing how to find it, trying to decipher where one is in time and space in the grand scheme of things and also just trying to make someone else proud and how others especially close to you perceive you and all the things you try to do. Honestly though, the title of the song drew me in which usually happens to me because of my incessant pension for lyrical greatness. Meyers crooning and soulful voice while he sings about the topics that most people can't fathom to pen down, let alone perform on a track, becomes such a visceral experience even just by listening to it. The repetition of the phrase "When time and space collide I hope I'm by your side" is so intense to hear especially in a musical form. I think this notion is pretty philosophical and music, in a way, can be pretty much a modern form of philosophy that we can understand. 18. This House by Japanese Breakfast - Off of her album, Soft Sounds From Another Planet, comes this beautiful ballad/indie piece that is a slow understanding of what it's like to return back to a place where there is a mixture of trauma and love and how it takes time to try to recollect all of the memories of a place that you once lived and how it can be painful to go back and restart while retaining a sense of who you used to be. Zauner, who is the main singer/songwriter of Japanese Breakfast, told that the song is about, "This was the last song I wrote for the album. A ballad about returning home after a long tour, waiting for your someone to come home. It’s also about the confused desires you feel for someone you once loved, and coming to the realization that it’s not actually the person you miss, but who you were before. A time when you were younger and felt more and didn’t think so much about death all the time." I feel such a deep connection to this song because I love where I am from (suburban NJ) and I have always felt a mixture of sadness and love returning home for a variety of reasons and how pain mixed with nostalgia is very important to feel. 19. Forget Me by Born Ruffians - The first song I found by this artist I included on an older mix and it was the track "Fuck Feelings" which I think should be listened to in tandem with this song because they kind of work as a venn diagram in the sense that there are a lot of shared themes and feelings within both songs, but they depart in the way of that this song is about staying with someone through really difficult times and having a stronger sense of love because of those hard times. A phrase from this song which is central to the theme is "you'll face the light with me". I think this goes to say that two people, when faced with something as intense and scary as death, if they really care about each other, will make it through to the other side and still survive in an afterlife or space of some sort with one another. I would categorize this kind of genre as a soft alternative rock because of the light feeling mixed with a still present rock vibe. 20. Upper West Side by King Princess - Finally, rounding off this week's mix is a Brooklyn native young and fresh artist new to the indie pop scene, who is amazing for incorporating feelings of acceptance, empowerment, equality and queer love as well as general feelings of love and light. This particular track is about being apart of a so called privileged generation of young people who try to portray themselves a certain way in order to feel accepted by the general public society. In an interview with Coup De Main magazine, King Princess commented, "The song is about somebody who is wealthy and all that, and interested in this concept of disguising their wealth to be cool…I think especially in our culture, a huge part of the way that we present ourselves to the world is edited, and it’s digital. You have the luxury of touching things up and editing them and changing them before they hit the real world, and the reality is that a lot of the parts that we show isn’t the core and isn’t the heart of the matter. I talk about that a lot as well in the music because I am definitely a product of that generation" which I think sums the song up perfectly.

Thanks for listening with open ears and hearts

Much love,

Julia

[fireandseaweed]

Baby It’s Cold Outside || Jason and Percy

Jason and Percy leave the unity feast early, missing the Dominus’ announcement, but they make their own discoveries that evening or early morning.

The Unity Feast had been, well, all told it had been mildly successful. Nobody had killed anyone, nobody had really done anything to shatter the fragile peace and Jason had gotten back to his apartment at a decent hour. Which was when the trouble had really started. Sleep eluded him for many reasons these days; phantom pain in his eyes, his anxiety, nightmares… so he was old comrades with insomnia. But tonight he had really been hoping for a good night's rest. Tiptoeing carefully past Percy’s closed doors he shucked off the vest and loosened his tie, letting the dark fabric hang loose around his muscular neck. He sat on the couch, whisky soda on the table in front of him and booted up his thin MacBook. Might as well get some homework done if he was going to be awake anyway. The clock on the microwave blinked a troublesome “2:30” at him but he shook it off. He could sleep I’m tomorrow. If sleep came for him at all.

After everything that had happened in the last few hours Percy had to admit that he should’ve been tired. It had been a good time, but a long time. His feet were sore from brand new dress shoes that he’d yet to adequately break in. He’d gotten home before Jason and passed out right away, or at least that was the plan. Rather he’d been lying there for a little while when he’d heard Jason return home, and a little while later he had given up on sleep all together, quickly rummaging through his bag and pulling out his small wooden box where he kept all of his paraphernalia. Pulling out a compact grinder, he quickly added and ground a sizeable bud of weed down to a relatively fine grain. Pulling out a pouch of tobacco, he layered a rolling skin with it and carefully poured the grains of weed on top of it. Placing a final layer of tobacco over the weed, Percy rolled a roach and tucked the paper before licking and sealing his joint. Stepping out of his room, he stumbled pretty tipsy still into the kitchen. Smiling as he used a pencil to pack the joint down before tying down the top. Looking up he finally noticed Jason. “Oh, hey man, couldn’t sleep?”

Jason was intent on the assignment when he heard Percy’s bedroom door open and watched his best friend stumble towards the kitchen with a joint in his hand. It took Percy a minute to notice jason sitting on the couch but when he did, Jason waved with a lopsided grin, “nah. You know how it goes. I hope I didn’t wake you, dude.” He leaned forward to grab his drink and took a giant swig from it. “All in all tonight could have gone worse. I resisted the urge to kill Cat Karavadra and nobody started the war back up again. So at the very least we can pretend to be united again. And pretending is the first step to making it happen for real.” He set his nearly empty glass down and slumped back onto the couch. “Remember when we were kids and we could sleep real easy? Before everything rested on our shoulders? I can’t remember the last night I fell to sleep immediately.”

“Wake me?” Percy asked remembering the familiar feeling of dread that always settled into his stomach whenever he thought about his nightmares, “I couldn’t sleep actually, I was hoping that this would help me feel a little better, y’know, try and take the edge off a little bit or something, get me feeling a bit sleepier…” he shrugged gently and nodded. “It was hardly perfect,” he agreed. “I don’t honestly remember that ever happening to me, I don’t think sleep was ever something I got to do. I always felt so wide awake and full of energy. Eventually I’d drift off, then I became a demigod and everything was kind of compacted and somehow it got worse?” He paused and looked around. “You wanna come smoke this with me?” he asked curiously. “We can keep talking, don’t wanna stink out your kitchen that’s all.”

Jason’s weak smile barely cut through the gloom of his dim apartment “I guess it was too much to ask that one of us actually got a good night’s sleep for once.” He draped himself over the back of the couch and looked across the room at Percy, nodding. “You know….. I can barely remember life before I came here. I think I can remember my childhood room. But. It’s vague and fuzzy. We’ve been doing this for so long that that kind of stress and tension just seems normal now. And that can’t be terribly good for us, can it.” He nodded and vaulted the couch, tossing his tie and shirt onto a barstool at his kitchen counter, “don’t want to get them all weedtastic.” He muttered before opening his balcony door and looking out over New Rome. “It’s been awhile since you and I got stoned together.”

“Getting a good night sleep feels like a bit of a myth right now, which is ironic considering our situation.” Percy smiled brightly at his friend and laughed. “Please, the weedtastic is everything that I want from one of these,” he looked at the joint in his hands before stepping out of the balcony door and gazing out over the city. Settling into his chair, he loosened his tie and undid a second button before pulling his belt off. “There, that is 200 times better.” He smiled brightly and reached out, scooping up a lighter and striking the flint confidently. “Too long since we got an opportunity to smoke together,” he agreed, “I missed getting to do this stuff while the war was on, now that I’ve got more time on my hands I’ve been doing everything that I can to enjoy that, and spending this last week with you has been …. I dunno, it’s been pretty great.” This was the happiest that he could remember being in a long time, and although it might’ve been somewhat of a once a year sort of thing, he was already looking forward to the next set of holidays where he was sure that this was going to become a tradition.

“I think the whole demigod aesthetic is sharp weapons and giant bags under your eyes. I know I’ve been sporting them since the year 2000.” Jason pulled one of the chairs on the balcony closer to Percy’s, settling into it and grabbing a blanket he kept folded under the eaves and spreading it over his lap, “Time to de-dapper? It was nice to get all dressed up… but… it’s nicer to undress afterwards and relax. Always feels twice as relaxing.” He cocked his head so he could look at his friend from his fuzzy blanket cocoon. “This is what we needed. Just… to be. No war, no temples. Nothing but being two guys relaxing at home.” He watched Percy light the joint, turning his attention back to the city spread out beneath them and the brighter lights of San Francisco beyond it, “I needed this. Desperately. Just to spend time with you. It recharges me. Can’t be properly sparky without my Percy time.”

Smiling gently, Percy lifted his joint to his lips and took a deep drag. Swallowing the smoke he exhaled gently a moment later, the smoke curling upwards and spiralling into the obsidian night sky. “You’re not wrong,” Percy leaned over to Jason and passed him the joint. A moment later he was fishing his pen out of his jacket as if to prove the point. I never really think all that much about always being armed. It’s normal, but really it shouldn’t be. It wasn’t before. So why do I feel so uneasy without Riptide?” He laughed, almost as if it were a bad joke lacking a punchline. Pushing the pen back into his pocket, he turned and smiled at Jason. “We all deserve a break after everything that we have had to go through, but you’re right, it’s been a real treat to recharge with just you.” He had never met someone like Jason. At times they were so similar that it was difficult to actually believe that Jason had spent the majority of his life living as a legionnaire in this very city. Despite their similarities they were still from different worlds. Not that that had ever stopped them. “Going back to real life seems daunting now….”

Laughing at the pen Percy held loosely in his fingers, Jason tugged the cord tied around his neck to reveal the bright golden coin it was threaded through, “I feel the same way. If this bad boy isn’t touching my skin it just doesn’t feel right.” A quick flip of the coin turned it into a glittering spear, and a second one turned it back into a coin and he tucked it under his white t-shirt. Casting an affectionate glance at his friend he held his scarred fingers out for the joint, “Recharging with you has been the highlight of my year, P. Just getting to spend time where we get to be us, with no pretense or shielding up. It doesn’t happen often, and I think I need it even more than I realize.” It was hard to imagine that there had actually been a time in his life before he and Percy had been best friends. It seemed like the son of Poseidon had been an integral part of his life for as long as he could remember. “Well… remember that anytime you need a break from real life I’ve got a bed with your name on it and all the baked goods you can steal.”  

Nodding gently, Percy was pleased to know that he was not the only one who still struggled with their demons. It hadn’t been easy, but he was hopeful that things would finally start coming together. They had to. This was the future that they deserved. It was definitely one where they got to have a happy ending. “I’m glad that I’m not the only one who is a paranoid lunatic,” he laughed gently, knowing that he was neither of those things. But it was nice to know that other people practiced the same habits as him. “That is awfully high praise, but I don’t disagree, I’ve really had a good time, it’s been nice just getting to hang out. Eat too much food. Drink too much. Smoke too much. Indulge ourselves generally I guess.” He looked to Jason once more and smiled weakly at him before taking the joint back and swallowing down several lungfuls of smoke. “Thanks man, but at some point in your life you’ve got to get back to it, right?”

“I don’t think it’s paranoia if you’ve lived your entire life in such a way where having a weapon instantly accessible is a necessity. Sad. But not paranoia.” Thick smoke flowed from between his lips and he twirled his fingers, watching a tiny cyclone spin through the cloud. “As cheesy and dumb as it sounds… you’re my anchor. When it all gets dark and loud and anxiety is beating down my door you’re the North Star I can turn to. You’ve helped me through a lot since we became friends. Hopefully I’ve returned the favor.” Jason watched Percy do some serious work on the joint as he burrowed into his blanket. “Yeah. You do. But getting back to it doesn’t mean you can’t hide out for a night and recharge. Self care, right? We’re millennials. We’re supposed to be all about that. And this can be your self care safe place.”

“The irony is that I constantly tell everyone that all I really want anymore is to have a more normal life. But I can’t help but keep a sword on me at all times like some sort of safety blanket.” Percy let out a gentle cough as he handed the joint back to Jason and gazed out across the early morning sky that had settled over New Rome. “I wouldn’t know what my life would look like if we weren’t friends, it sounds cheesy I know, but I feel the same. I’m no introvert, but if I was then I don’t think you’d count as people, being with you is just like me time.” He pauses and smiled gratefully at Jason. “What did I do to ever deserve a friend as good as you?” He fell silent as he felt a pang of happiness and joy at the sheer prospect of spending more time with his friend. “I’ll make sure to take you up on your offer,” he promise, “something tells me that we are going to need some time to ourselves with everything that’s going on at the moment.”

“We could do worse as far as security blankets go. But I get where you’re coming from.”  Jason’s fingers brushed the ever-cold coin resting against his sternum and moved to the scar on his lip, before settling on the ragged edges of the spiderweb of scarring around his eye, “Really, all of this is the same thing. Life is tumultuous but this… marring, as it were, helps me anchor myself. I am a warrior. I was a priest and I was a praetor but I’ve always been a warrior. There’s calm in the labelling, but it’s a double-edged sword, because if that’s my anchor, I’m never going to be able to be anything but that.” He took the joint and took a long slow drag on it, listening to Percy talk with a smile on his face, “You were a good person. One of the best people. That’s all. That’s why I love spending time with you. Because you’re just good and lovely and even as much of an introvert as I am… spending time with you recharges me even better than alone time.”

“Well, we could literally have physical security blankets and obviously that wouldn’t be ideal, two studs with eight packs and a blankey.” Percy smirked quaintly at the other and shrugged. The way that Jason spoke was interesting. It brought several thoughts to his mind and he frowned. “I don’t think you should define yourself by the things that happened to you, you’ve always been brave in the face of fear, in the face of certain death at times, but what’s more, you’ve always been compassionate and kind. You’re a good person Jason and that is what your anchor should be, remember who you are before you try to define yourself.” Percy took a moment to breath, grabbing a spare blanket and wrapping it around him to fight off the chill in the air. “I’m not sure that I’d call myself a definitively good person,” Percy replied, “I did some terrible things in the war. There’s so much blood, both Greek and Roman blood and it’s all on my hands. I led us through a war where hundreds died. Do I still get to call myself a good person after that?”

“I dunno man. I think we look pretty goddamn hot right now, two half-dressed-in-formal wear studs wrapped in blankets. That’s a calendar right there.” Jason’s face fell as he listened to Percy question his own goodness. “Percy. You can’t sit here and tell me not to focus on the bad things about myself and question your own goodness in the same breath.” He leaned over and thumped his hand against Percy’s chest. “That heart is the heart of a good man. We all did terrible things in the war. We all have the blood of hundreds on our hands… and believe me I don’t think it ever washes off. But I don’t think that’s enough to tip the scales for you. What you did you did for the good of all. You’ve fought, your whole life, to keep the world safe and to make sure we all have a life to keep living when the war is done.” He sighed to himself and leaned back in his chair, giving Percy’s shoulder a squeeze. “One day you’ll see yourself like I see you.”

“Don’t give anyone that idea,” Percy had a hard enough time with his renown as it was already, “it’s hard enough introducing myself at the moment, I don’t need my body plastered over every middle aged spinster’s fridge.” He hated that his name made people prick their ears and turn with hushed whispers about whether that was him. Could that be the Percy? He sometimes wondered whether people were disappointed by the average height, dark haired and green eyed latino they were met with. He often didn’t feel that he lived up to his … well reputation. He smirked gently. “Well I am a bit of an oxymoron myself,” he replied with a shrug, “being a hypocrite isn’t really that surprising on top of that is it?” He considered Jason’s words. Seeing himself like Jason saw him seemed unlikely to him. But then again he never truly felt as if his friend really saw everything that he did. “It’d be really convenient if we could stop being so self sacrificing and be really honest, but then I guess that’s just the nature of being a hero. Something tragic like that? Right?”

“Gods right? Advantage to studying at Stanford and not NRU. To everyone there I’m just another wounded vet non-traditional student doing his thing. Office of Integration decided that was the best way to explain me away.” The Office that handled the melding of demigod pasts into acceptable mortal stories had been incredibly non-plussed with his injury. Apparently this was old hat to them. “Yeah… well… take off the oxy and that’s what you’re being right now. A moron. I’m calling you a moron.” Jason really did wish that Percy could see himself the way Jason saw him; handsome and kind, intelligent and ferocious, all the little pieces added up to make a man so amazing he put the gods to shame. “It would be. But that really doesn’t seem our style now does it. I guess you just have to keep me around so I can tell you how amazing you are. I’ll keep reminding you, all the time, because I know it’s the truth.” He let his head loll back against the chair, unbraiding his blonde hair and looking up at the stars, “It’s nice to be somewhere where it’s quiet. That Feast was getting to be a bit much.”

“Maybe I’ll transfer out of NRU, although it seems dumb to do it when I’m so close to graduating…” Percy pauses and smiled gently. “Of course they weren’t concerned by something as trivial as injuries. Now if you’d been half satyr or something then that would’ve probably worried them some. But I’m sure you can’t be the first demigod to want to do something outside of the city with some sort of visible injury.” He fell silent as he took the joint back from Jason, or maybe he’d had it all along. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t entirely sure. He was starting to get pretty stoned and he’d drunk a lot at the party. He was hardly a notoriously heavy drinker. “As long as we can stop one another from being too humble then that will keep me nice and happy, can’t allow anyone to think we are braggarts now can we?” He paused and scootched his chair over closer to Jason, placing a affectionate hand on his friend’s shoulder. Squeezing it gently he sat silently for a moment, watching the cloud of smoke ride through the sky away from Jason’s balcony. “Thank you Jace,” he finally said quietly, “this week has done wonders for me.”

“Yeah. I still have a year and a half at least so transferring wasn’t as big a deal for me. But if you’re close then it doesn’t really make sense.” Jason’s laugh cut through the chilly night, “they invented a neat little background for me, falsified some paperwork, bing bang boom Jason’s got a nice backstory for his classmates.” Another laugh and he took a drink of his whisky, “I don’t think either of us are in danger of turning into Octavian. But it’s nice to have someone with a little objectivity to help you keep your head on straight.” Percy moved his chair closer to him and Jason leaned his head to rest his cheek on Percy’s hand, the warmth of it bleeding through his chilly stubble. “My home is always open to you. Always. This week has been amazing. Just spending time with you. When I’m with you the normal buzz and hum of my mind is actually quiet for once. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Either way I’ve got to wait, either for the university to be rebuilt or for the university to be rebuilt so they can transfer me. But I’m making sure I keep nice and busy.” Percy wondered what Jason’s made up past was? “You’re not going to tell me about your backstory? Are you worried it’s going to be cooler than your real life?” Pausing for a moment he laughed. The truth was that Jason had lived a life that was so cool that it would be difficult to live anything comparable. But there was a big part of Percy’s life that was lived in hopes that it would one day become normal. He envied everyone else who’d gotten to grow up as normal. “I actually don’t think I have ever met someone that I got along with better than you and believe me it’s weird, me and Thalia never got along well. I almost dropped an entire river on her once.”

“Well yeah. Trying to fix the entirety of demigod society is certainly a way for you to keep busy, P. You’re definitely not lying.” Jason laughed brightly, moving his cheek away from Percy’s hand, “Explosive Ordnance Disposal in the Middle East. That’s the backstory. Lost my eye to some shrapnel from an IED on patrol. Nothing fancy, just gets the job done.” It felt a little wrong, co-opting his story from so many mortals who had had that fate befall them. But the Office of Integration had assigned it and he’d gone along with it. The good soldier to the end. “Well. In your defense. I also have wanted to drop an entire river on my sister and I don’t have hydrokinesis.” Thalia was a stormy personality at best. She wasn’t really a people person. “It’s true though. You’re just….. you work. With me. With all my crazy. You being around works.”

“I’m not trying to fix the whole of the society,” Percy replied with a shrug, “all I am trying to do is rebuild a city and get my people something better than they’ve had for the last nine months.” Although when he put it like that he didn’t know if that sounded any less like an impossible and insurmountable task. “Well, they aren’t entirely wrong, I know it is stretching the truth a little but IED does sound more normal than exploding ballistae bolt.” Pausing once more, he considered how different Thalia and Jason was. Jason was like a breath of fresh air on a rainy day. Thalia was like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean, tearing anything apart that came in it’s way. At least that was what she was like when she was pissed off. “It amazes me how well she and Artemis get along with one another, especially considering how wildly different they are from one another.” Pausing for a second longer he stretched out further in his seat, embracing the cold night air. “We slot together pretty well,” he agreed.

Jason sat in a very pointed silence in order to give Percy a chance to see that what he was saying was exactly like trying to fix the whole of demigod society. He laughed, self conscious fingers rising to brush his face, “Well… since the mortal world doesn’t know what an exploding ballistae bolt is, this is indeed the better option. Even if it smacks of dishonesty.” As Percy kept talking about his sister Jason laughed, “Well… from what I’ve heard, my godly sister Lady Artemis has a rage and fury that makes Thalia look like a docile little lamb. That’s probably why they get along so well. Though it seems like Thalia is angry constantly, and Artemis only some of the time. But when you’re thousands of years old you probably learn how to pick when to be angry and when not to be.” Watching Percy stretch out of the corner of his eye Jason listened carefully; wondering if perhaps there was a second layer of conversation happening. Though in the secret parts of his heart he was unsure if he was wondering about it, or hoping for it, “We do. Peanut butter and chocolate and other apt comparisons like that. We’re good together.”

Allowing the silence to settle over them, Percy pulled his own blanket around him more tightly. It was a cold night and despite leaving the feast early he was still feeling pretty sleepy. The joint was hardly helping either. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation for everything that you’ve had to go through in the last six months. Sure it’s dishonest but it’s none of their business whether you were hurt by exploding mortal weapons or whether it was of the immortal variety.” He knew that Jason was a traditional hero who thought of self sacrifice as a necessity. But the truth was that Jason had given up more than many in the war. Not to mention his reputation and everything that he’d worked towards as Pontifex Maximus, all for the Greek people. That wasn’t something that Percy would ever forget. If anything it endeared him to Percy more. There was a lot to be interested in Jason. Apart from the fact that he had the body of a literal God, Percy knew that Jason was kind. Thoughtful. Intelligent. Introspective. Selfless. It was really something. Not to mention that Jason was one of his oldest friends excluding Annabeth and Grover. “Red Wine and Steak?” Percy suggested with a smile, admiring the stubble that dotted Jason’s face.

As Percy wrapped himself tighter in his blanket, Jason flipped the end of his fuzzy blanket over the other man’s lap, scooting slightly closer as he did, “I stole the good one. Might as well share.” Heaving a sigh he shrugged. He knew Percy was right. But his life had been one of explanations, of transparency required by duty, and it was difficult to let go of those ideals. “Yeah yeah yeah. You’ve always gone too easy on me so I can’t really trust your opinion now can I. You’re my best friend. You’re hella biased.” He cocked his head to look at Percy as the other guy talked, stifling a yawn. He wasn’t ever quite sure how Percy managed to look like a male model and still be the humble amazing guy he was, but it was always the case. “French fries and too much salt.” He responded, laughing softly, “a bubble bath and beer. Whisky and a cold night. All the great things come in pairs.”

Taking the bit of the blanket that Jason had passed to him, Percy tucked it over his feet and smirked. “Well, this is your balcony, I’m not exactly going to start complaining because I think that you’re being selfish, you’ve put me up free of charge for more than my fair share of time.” He paused and considered Jason’s words. “I’m not biased, I am as objective as it is humanly possible for someone to be.” He smirked gently, knowing full well that he would always take Jason’s side irrespective of the circumstances. It was simply something that was outside of his control. He loved his friend too much to not always take his side. “Can you ever have too much salt?” he asked smirking gently before shrugging a little and stretching. “Who knew that we were such a dynamic duo?” he asked his increasingly handsome friend.

Jason laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the chilly night, as he squeezed Percy’s shoulder, “P. You could crash with me for the rest of your life and that wouldn’t be an imposition. I literally don’t think I’d ever get tired of having you around. It’s the best part of my day.” He waved Percy’s argument away. It was impossible for either of them to view the other objectively, which somehow worked because it balanced out how harsh they were on themselves, “You can never have too much salt. Nor too much hot sauce.” He squeezed Percy’s shoulder again and let go, watching him stretch languidly, “I mean… we did. It’s why we hang out together so much. We’re just great together.” He didn’t know if it was the whisky, the exhaustion, or just years of friendship all coming together, but Percy was growing ever more handsome in the dim light of his balcony, “It’s just the way it is. I’m better when I’m around you.”

“I don’t know,” Percy quietly replied with a smile drifting across his face, “I am sure that if I were able to stay with you for the rest of your life that you’d get sick of me soon enough. There comes a limit to the amount of human interaction that we can all take.” Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully, Percy slipped deeper beneath the pile of blankets that he was nestling within. Breathing deeply, Percy idly flicked at his lighter, it sparked on and off before he tucked it away too. His inability to sit still had always been famous, but he often wondered if his ADHD was getting worse with age. “That sounds like an advert for a hot sauce place, except I’ve never been anywhere in the world that sells just hot sauce on its own…” he laughed and shrugged, glancing at Jason and swallowing somewhat uncomfortably as new feelings washed over him uninvited. “My question was rhetorical,” Percy laughed, “You’re perfect the way you are, you just think you’re better when I’m around because you’re blind to your own abilities and the truth about it.”

The moment seemed like something special; which meant that Jason was ill-equipped to deal with it. “I don’t think so. I think you know me well enough to know when I need to hide in my room playing video games and when I’m ready for more people time. But. Having you here is a great thing.” Percy fidgeted and Jason sat, trying to avoid giving into his nervous energy that made him fidget just as much. Normally he was prone to the standard demigod amounts of ADHD but he tried to keep it in check as much as possible: a feat easier said than done. He kept his hands clasped in his lap, twirling the silver ring on his finger. “There are some shops that specialize in just hot sauce. I know there are a couple in the city. There’s one in Haight-Ashbury. We can go sometime if you want.” He listened as Percy talked, glad for the dim light of the balcony as he blushed violently. “You’re wrong. There’s always room for improvement and I’m far away from perfect. But…” he fell silent. Not even sure of the end to that sentence.

Maybe it was the amount that Percy had drunk. Maybe it was the fact that he had smoked half a joint. Maybe it was the time of the night. Either way Percy couldn’t help but think that Jason looked truly radiant in the dim light. It seemed to shine through his long blonde hair and almost cast a golden glow. At least that was what Percy imagined. “I get that you need time alone, you and Annabeth are similar in that way …” he shrugged gently, suddenly wondering why he had decided to make a connection between his ex and his best friend, “but I’m glad that you think so highly of me. It actually really means a lot Jace…” he sighed contentedly and shifted once more in his seat. “I’d like that. Getting hot sauce with you,” he smirked at the thought, “do they have a blue one?” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “Damn, I wouldn’t know what to say about that, it is pretty hard to argue with such a strong denial. It’s definitely changed my opinion about you. Good job bro.”

“Yes but she’s more likely to use her alone time to try to save the world with her super genius, and I’m more likely to use it to play Horizon Zero Dawn in my underwear until I’ve gotten all the trophies. Big difference there.” He laughed again, shimmying deeper into his mound of blanket and closer to Percy, “even if they don’t have a blue one I’ll dye it for you. We’ll get you a blue hot sauce that’ll make your eyes water. There’re some nice shops down there. We can make a day of it. Get out into the city, grab a nice lunch, just be touristy for once. I’ll even wear a Fanny pack so we blend right in.” He could sense Percy’s sarcasm in his response and head butted him in the shoulder “uh huh. I can tell when you’re being sarcastic, P. I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years. We can’t all be handsome smart amazing guys like you. I’ve just gotta keep trying to be as good as the amazing Percy Jackson.”

“I don’t know about you,” Percy replied with a laugh, “but I would rather spend my day in bed playing HZD in my underwear then save the world. Besides you give Annabeth far too much credit, not that she doesn’t deserve it, but she’s as good at procrastinating as you or I.” Possibly even better. He’d seen her re-design Olympus and had experienced her procrastination first hand. “Damn, and I thought that you’d let me wear the fanny pack, I guess I’ll have to get a “I love Stanford” shirt or even a visor! But that won’t hold a candle to the level of touristry that you’ll have achieved.” Smirking gently, Percy reached out and wrapped a hand round the back of Jason’s head as he placed his forehead on Percy’s shoulder. “You don’t need to keep trying anything, there is a reason that you were Praetor for more than five minutes and I wasn’t, you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.” He gazed into Jason’s stormy eyes and smiled contentedly.

“Absolutely. Trying to navigate one of the cauldrons is way easier than facing down Gaia, more fun too. I definitely don’t think I give Annabeth too much credit, that woman is scary smart. I think even her procrastination is productive. Which is more than I can say for me.” The image of them as a touristy couple made him laugh, and then the realization Jason was imagining them as a couple gave him brief pause, though it seemed he wasn’t too upset by the mental image. “I’ll lend you some of my Stanford wear. I’ve got way too much of it.” Percy’s hand rested in his hair and Jason took that as tacit permission to snuggle up against Percy’s side. “Yeah yeah yeah they’re gonna sing the ballad of Jason Grace for years to come and all that good shit.” He waved Percy’s comments away before resting his hand on the other man’s broad chest, “in the end it's not really the opinion of History that matters to me, I think. Just if I did right by my friends.”

“I once saw Annabeth construct a scale model of New Rome with an absurd number of playing  cards. It was both impressive and a little sad. I’ve never seen someone get so annoyed at someone opening the door and letting wind in…” Percy laughed at the memory before shrugging, “you’re doing it again, you don’t need to compare yourself to anyone else because you’re doing great just as you are.” He smirked gently at his own cliche, it was funny because if the tables were turned he knew damn well that he would be unable to take Jason’s advice. “I look forward to looking like a UCS advert / brochure. I never knew until now what my true calling was.” As Jason leaned against him, Percy felt his pulse quicken slightly as their bare skin caught contact. Swallowing a breath of air, Percy smiled as he tried to ignore the racing adrenaline that was pounding around him. Suddenly he felt somewhat light headed. He’d never felt this way before and in that moment he didn’t want to move. Despite everything that he was feeling, he didn’t want to ruin what was happening in that moment. “Of course you did right by your friends, was that something that was ever in doubt?”

“That’s so peak Annabeth I can’t even handle it. Of course she did. I’m surprised she didn’t start doing the whole of San Francisco.” Rolling his eyes Jason waved Percy’s words away, hand accidentally grazing his friend’s beard as he did. “Of course I am. And don’t give me that guff about how I should only try to be better than my previous self because you know that’s not how my brain works. I have to keep trying to be the best.” He could hear Percy’s heart thudding through his chest and was glad his friend couldn’t hear that his was doing the same thing. “Doing right is an ongoing process. I have done right. I want to keep doing right. Until I finally die. But I need to keep making a difference. Keep doing something. Just so I can always be there for you guys.” He heaved a sigh and twisted his head so he could look up into Percy’s eyes “you know how that is.”

“Annabeth is certainly one of a kind,” Percy replied, dipping his head gently in admittance to what Jason had said. Annabeth had a singular focus when it came to certain tasks, it was almost scary how hard she could work on something if she really set her mind to it. Laughing gently, Percy shrugged. “Maybe I just mean that I think you’ve done more than enough good to secure your place in Elysium a thousand times over. But if you want to insist on trying to get straight to the Isles of the blessed during your first attempt then who am I to try and stop you?” He chuckled gently and nodded.  “That sort of attitude is why you’re so good though,” Percy had never particularly had qualms with platonic physicality, especially not with Jason. Yet there was something making the breath in his throat catch. “You just insist on dramatising it, and then you claim you’re not a drama queen.”

“And I wouldn’t have her any other way.” Jason’s love for Annabeth burned almost as bright as his love for Percy. She was a genius and one of the best people he knew; he’d fought beside her through a hundred battles and he’d do it through a hundred more. “I mean why live three times if I can go to turbo-heaven on the first go? Come on, P. I’m trying to speed run this bitch.” He laughed and straightened up, leaving the warmth of Percy’s chest with a little bit of sorrow. It was comfortable, and in all honesty felt absolutely right. But he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. “I think we both know when I claim I’m not a drama queen it’s a goddamn lie. I’m super dramatic. I just like to say I’m not.” He brushed hair out of his eyes and smiled at his friend, admiring literally everything about the man sitting next to him, “I’m happy we have this time. It’s just… good. Everything about it is good.”

“Well as long as whatever it is that you decide is enough to make you happy then you’ve got my approval.” Percy smiled gently. That was what his mother had always told him. At the end of the day if what he did made him happy then that was something to be proud of. “Well acceptance of a state of denial is one of the first steps on the road to recovery.” Percy smirked gently and sat up as Jason moved away. Honestly he was somewhat disappointed by the fact that his friend had moved away from him. He yearned for his touch for a moment before snapping back to reality. “Dramatics have always been one of my favourite parts of your personality,” Percy admitted as he sat forward, leaning against his knees and rubbing his eyes gently, “I am never bored when I’m around you. Besides your dramatic flair is impressive. Having seen you use harpies as aerial stepping stones and still manage to impale a cyclops with your spear I can tell you it is somewhat impressive.”

“Oh gods. That was such a Sallyism. I’m pretty sure she told me that exact same thing earlier this year. You are absolutely your mother’s son.” Stretching languidly in his chair, Jason scratched his stubbly chin, laughing at Percy’s gentle teasing. “What’s the point of being the son of the god of lightning and the sky if you can’t use that to fuel your dramatic flair. I mean I’ve gotta treat each of my battles like a Cirque du Soleil routine, otherwise I’m going to disappoint my fans and I can’t do that. They’ll stop writing to me for autographs.” Percy leaned forward and rubbed his eyes and Jason automatically started scratching his back gently, before a jaw-cracking yawn brought his hands to his mouth. He gathered the blanket up and wrapped it around him, starting to head back down the hallway towards his bedroom as they moved from the chilly outside to the warmth of his apartment. Pausing at his door he turned back to look at Percy, sweeping hair out of his eye as he weighed a couple of options in his head, “Hey P…” his voice was almost soft enough to get lost in the ambient noise of his apartment, “I know that room gets chilly. I haven’t had a chance to replace the weather-stripping on the window yet and it leaks cold air in. But uh….” he could feel his cheeks getting a little rosy, “My room’s plenty warm… and there’s room for two in my bed. If you don’t wanna be cold all night, I mean.”

“It would be difficult not to be my mother’s son,” `replied with a laugh. “I’m not complaining Jason, I can definitely see the comparison between Cirque du Soleil and your fighting style, and believe me that wasn’t something that I thought I was ever going to say.” He smirked gently and shrugged, before rising to his feet and following Jason back into his apartment. As they slowly made their way back towards their bedrooms, Percy strode towards his room, folding the blanket and placing it in the lounge before moving through. Jason’s question however caught him off guard, and he took a moment to consider it. Pausing, he glanced down at the door of his room before turning back and nodding. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

[aprilskyforever]

another round of the 11 tag

@kakoland tagged me back! i’m too tired to think of 11 new questions and 11 people to tag so i’m just gonna answer this time.

1. How was your day? - this day har barely been anything yet but it’s my precious day off between 4 days of food shift and 4 days of cleaning shift so i’m taking my sweet time to relax today. and maybe do some grocery shopping. 2. Favourite food to bring on a trip? depends on what kind of trip, what vehicle and company, and for how long it goes on. when going on field trips as a kid i loved pancakes/mini pancakes, but if i’m on the train home to my parents i prefer a subway sandwich (i always go whole grain bread, turkey, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, onion, garlic sauce) or a bad of polly bilar. 3. What would you want me to ask you about? Like if you could pick a question that I would ask, what question would that be? - probably something about travelling or food, or what i would do if i won the lottery.  4. If you did pick a question, what’s the answer to the question? If you didn’t, that’s fine, I’ve noticed that it’s very hard to come up with questions. Maybe you could post a picture of a cute animal or a pretty plant or the sky or something instead? - ok so if i won the lottery i’d invest part of the money in something that’d guarantee monthly income without me being forced to work for it, then i’d pay off my student loan (and a couple of friend’s loans too) and i’d buy a mansion or a giant lot to build a mansion on. it’d have an absolutely gorgeous kitchen, and a huuuge garden and greenhouse where i’d grow as much as i could, i’d invite friends and family to come live with me and we’d take care of it all together, i’d host parties, i’d write and cook and just, let myself learn and be creative. i’d sink as much as i could into charity as well. and always give to beggars.

5. Please name three birds you find beautiful? - i’m terrible with bird names but i like woodpeckers, and swans and peacocks evern though they’re terrifying. i have a soft spot for wagtails though. i don’t know why. 6. What’s three inspirational quotes/facts or similar you like? - actually i’m terrible at collecting such things so i don’t think i can name any right now /:

7. What’s your favourite root vegetable(s)? - carrot. it’s pretty much the only one i like actually. i want to like the others but it’s just... it’s like my body rejects it. beets, parsnip, celeriac, turnip... nope. 8. Share at least one new thing you’ve learned this month! - this job i have makes me clueless about people’s ages, it might be becuase we’re all wearing uniforms but it could just be me being terrible at guessing and estimating. there’s this guy who’s apparently 41 who i thought was 30-35. 

9. What’s the best advice someone has given you (or that you’ve found in some other way)? - “let yourself be ugly” probably. like, so what if i look like this, life too short to try and hide who i actually am and worry about what others think. they care more about if i’m a good person or not. so i focus on that instead. 10. Describe yourself in 10 words (don’t make sentences, just list some words). Can be personality, hobbies, aesthetic, whatever! : ) - calm, sweet (that’s what other people say at least), feminist, socialist, food-lover, patient, caring, rational, listener, stand-my-ground-person.

11. Let’s pretend you could visit any planet, star, comet or other thing not created by humans in our solar system. Let’s pretend you could travel there in little to no time and you could explore it without getting harmed, what would you choose to visit and why? - venus because it’s my zodiac’s planet and it’d be cool to be in that kind of heat without getting harmed.

[sarcastic-pasta-games]

Any motivation or advice for one man team developers? Sorry if this has been asked already

Hey! I’ve been working on a solo fangame project for too long almost 3 years, while working on The BOSS & Glitch In The System. I have no clue if this’ll help or if this is the type of advice you wanted, but here you go. The things written here can apply to non-fangame projects, too! 

(Warning: lots of text ahead - and take this with a grain of salt; I’m not an expert.)

General: 

You are going to have to plan in advance and organize absolutely every single thing about your project. Don’t just make an outline for your story. Create concept art for your characters, figure out what makes your game story unique, figure out the mapping and game mechanics early.

Make sure you know your options. If you’re really good at one thing (writing,art,music,code) and everything else is a bit new to you, there are free and paid resources out there. Don’t feel bad for using them. 

If you’re a perfectionist, make sure the tools you use are quick. Do not spend a week on one room design, or a month on one song. You will never finish your game, even if it’s super short. 

Kinda joykill advice, but I don’t recommend making your dream project first unless you fully KNOW how to start making your project on your own (which even then, you’ll need to organize everything for it to work). Make something silly, or try joining game jams. 

External feedback is even more important when working on your game. Get playtesters or people willing to help give feedback to you early on, or midway through development. 

Figure out how much energy you can devote to your project. If you want to be ambitious, that’s great! But overworking yourself is a horrible idea. 

If you want to change something fairly major about your game, you should probably only do it if you’re below the 30-40% mark. Otherwise you’ll forever drive yourself insane by changing anything when you’ve made that much progress on your project. You can always improve on certain aspects for future games. 

Especially for fangames: don’t take everything you make seriously. 

Games can still be considered solo projects, even if the developers got help for stuff like art, music, and code. You don’t have to do every single thing by yourself. But if you’re stubborn like me about this and still want to do everything, that’s cool too.

Back up your game or forever suffer in developer hell. Yes, I’m serious. I’ve seen projects get cancelled because they couldn’t afford to get a backup drive (or even a USB key) and it’s miserable.

Don’t act like you’re above other game developers. This applies for anyone, really. Support the other people around you, too! 

Visuals:

If you have absolutely no passion or desire to do your own art assets, premade resources are your friends. However, you need to really focus on your other game aspects in other for your games to stand out. To The Moon used a lot of pre-made RPG Maker XP resources but had a phenomenal soundtrack and used that + its visuals to make the game feel more cinematic than most RPG Maker games.

If you feel like you suck at art or don’t have money for expensive drawing tools, but want to make all of the game assets, then do it! Even with simple/free-to-use tools, your can make game art that’ll be unique and memorable. example / example / example 

Keep backups of every single one of your original art asset files.

If you want to do pixel art for your game, 1: Always avoid coloring with pure black. Your game will look disgusting. 2: Programs like Asesprite are useful for animations. 3: Make sure it’s proper pixel art. Using AA brushes, the blur tool (etc) will completely ruin that.

Video cutscenes aren’t 100% necessary. Certain game devs make it a goal to never include cutscenes to create a certain atmosphere, or for the game to feel more interactive for the player. (ex: Night In The Woods)

Pretend the player can’t listen to game audio while playing. Keep the visuals interesting and make your game feel alive! Whether it’s through tiny animations, window animations, etc. 

For 3D Games: motion blur =/= super cool polished game. >:(

It depends on your game’s style, of course, but usually it’s not a good sign if you can tell your project is made by someone with default assets and doesn’t try to work beyond that (for any engine, 2D or 3D). 

If you want to do regular art for your game: make sure you know what resolution your game is going to be at its absolute highest, and always work with bigger than that. 

Keep your visuals consistent! If an early area looks unpolished/different from the final maps, then fix it. 

I’m going to skip music advice because I 100% suck at composing and don’t know what I’m doing yet. Just make sure your audio files are lossless, even if it adds a bit to your game’s file size. 

Audio: 

Use the same logic like in one of the points for visuals: Pretend like the player can’t see any of your cool visuals or fancy animations, and is just left with blocks for character sprites and very shapes for maps. Make your game convey emotion through audio, even if it’s through tiny sounds, or really quiet environment sounds. 

Voice acting: Don’t even bother if you can’t find people who have good microphones or can’t afford/know how to properly remove background noise. You’ll just be left with really bad quality audio that won’t help immerse the player at all. 

There can be a theme to your audio, much like there can be a theme to your visuals. Whether or not you decide to contrast the visuals with your audio or pair them up is up to you. It can give the game a whole new tone, depending on how you approach sound design.

Audio cues are good for puzzles, but again, don’t just rely on that only to indicate to the player that an objective has been completed. If they have the game on mute, they’re just going to be left wandering around.

Binaural audio can be cool, if you want to try doing that. 

Writing: 

Don’t write game dialogue at 4 am. It never works. 

Game writing is VERY different from what you might be used to. Keep in mind that for the most part players want to interact with an environment, not just only hear what characters have to say about a certain event or area. Forcing them to go through giant dialogue cutscenes every time is not a smart move to make. (Obviously, visual novels and text adventure games are an exception to this)

Not that you only need to have 4 words in your entire game! But there is a chance someone will download your game and just not enjoy the writing. Think ahead of time if you really feel like every game puzzle, every important cutscene needs to happen after giant walls of text.

If you have the ability to make visuals that can be paired with writing, you don’t really have an excuse for avoiding that. Especially if the cutscene 

Proofread every single thing, or get someone else to do it. If you can export all your game dialogue into text files, that could be helpful. 

If you’re trying to write a serious game (with lighthearted moments or not), chances are that adding that one dumb inside joke with your friends in-game could ruin the immersion for the player.

Only time I think the developer should focus more on their own opinion than the players: create as much atmosphere as you can. Figure out the things YOU like about a game world, and focus on that as much as you can. Don’t worry about making it appeal to all/certain audiences. 

Don’t act like every single player in the world will like all of your characters. Even if they’re nice, someone could absolutely despise your main characters, or find themselves liking the antagonist more.

Dumb character ticks and speech mannerisms can still work.

Not everything about a Serious Game™ has to be gritty and all that. Me and Katie wouldn’t recommend making a completely serious fangame anyway, but that’s another topic. 

You’re probably not going to ever write a game that has absolutely no tropes in it whatsoever, so give up on that. 

You can make a character dislikeable but still charming. The other way around works too. Not everything has to be clear-cut right and wrong.

Game design / Programming: 

If you ever use shortened names for certain switches, variables, etc - or have a complex system for one game feature, write down what all of it does somewhere. You don’t want to screw yourself over months after you implemented something because you forgot what one button does, or what another variable is for. 

Bite the bullet. If there’s an area you restrict access to for the player purely for the sake of not having to deal with coding it, that’s no fun.

You can never make a game with endless options/possibilities.

If there’s something buggy in your absolute basic gameplay mechanics (movement, UI) just change it and don’t focus on anything else before it’s fixed. There’s no excuse not to.

Make sure your game UI is bearable to look at. Please.

You don’t have to add 50 game options or features for your game to stand out. Unless you know it’ll encourage the player to keep playing or will help the player enjoy the game, then there’s no real use for it.

If you can ever optimize your game (frame rate, controls, etc) do that too. Having a simple 2D game running at 15fps one second and 60 the other won’t make your players happy. 

Personally, I’d rather play a working puzzle even if it’s a bit boring, over something that’s super creative but buggy as hell. 

Color puzzles aren’t going to work for colorblind players, and if you have an aesthetic (super tiny) game font, people with bad eyesight won’t be able to play. Give people options! 

“Choices in this game matter” if you know they don’t matter whatsoever for the ending or for a majority of the game, then don’t say that. This also ties into the branding section.

Making band-aid fixes for every single one of your game bugs is a really bad idea. If you can take some time to fix one bug fully rather than relying on workarounds, do that. 

Back. Up. Your. Code. Files. Especially if you’re planning on making major changes to it. It can be very useful to have old pieces of code to fall back on if your changes don’t work as planned. 

Figure out what you can and can’t do with an engine. There’s a section in The Beginner’s Guide that talks about the limitations certain engines can pose to developers, and how certain engines are just better fit for certain tasks than others. You won’t be able to include or make everything for one project. (Chances are, that wouldn’t work well anyways). 

Don’t expect the player to only behave one way to your game’s design, puzzles, or mapping. Again, give people options. There can be some fun in giving the player different results for different puzzle solutions. 

Presentation: 

You don’t have to reveal every single thing about your project online-  but on the other hand, keeping everything to only vague/abstract teaser posts isn’t very helpful to people, either. 

Social media is your friend. Twitter, tumblr, youtube, etc- Find different audiences through your games there! 

Figure out what sites you want to put your game on. There are tons of options: Itch.io is my favorite. But sites like Gamejolt, indiedb, rmn.net, Steam (more for commercial games), etc can work for you. You can always just upload it for yourself online (mediafire, google drive, dropbox) too, if you dislike all of those sites or prefer doing it through direct download links. 

Don’t self promote your game on other people’s games or accounts…

Even if someone is hoping to see something really specific in your game, your project will get out of hand if you just add in what every single person wants. Convince people that your game will be worthwhile even if a feature or a character doesn’t appear in it. 

Remaining transparent with your audience will help you a lot.

Keep things easy to access and read/look at for potential players. Make sure people can find something about the game quick. Things like FAQs, “About this game”, external links, etc are very helpful. 

Apologies in advance for any embarrassing typos that I may have missed.  

One last thing: Focus on making something that you ultimately like. It’ll be much easier to handle any sort of obstacles during/after development that way.

There is so much more I want to cover on this, but this should give you some basic things to work with. Hope this helps!

[whoisleft-rp]

CONGRATULATIONS TO  ADMIN AMANDA //

// FOR EARNING THE ROLE OF GRETCHEN OLLIVANDER

Full application included under the cut ! 

In Character // Getting to know your muse

Name: Gretchen Eileen Ollivander

Gender/Gender Identity: Cisgender Female

Age & Birthday: (I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling) 22 years young, born August 6th

[source]

Your greatest challenge is: coping with routine

The way forward is: to understand that routine is not always a deadening force; it can provide a safe and secure structure in which creativity can be nurtured.

On The Dark Size: Reckless, obsessive, unfocused

At their best: Exciting, creative, ambitious

Power thought: “I can see eternity in a grain of sand”

People born on August 6th have a lust for life, especially things that are uncommon and exciting. Their fascination with what is unique leads them to seek out the extraordinary and attracts interesting experiences their way.

The urge for people born on this day to participate fully in every area of their lives can make it hard for them to deal with the more mundane aspects of life. This is because, whether they realize it or not, they are forever searching for something extraordinary or unusual.

When life does not live up to their expectations they can become moody, despondent and restless. The key to success and happiness for them is to find ways to combine their passion for the unique and unusual with the routine of daily life.

In interpersonal relationships: People born on this day are never short of admirers because they have an unquenchable interest in others and the ability to make them feel special. They can be sensual and passionate as well as reliable and kind, but their intensity can become wearing. It is important for them to understand that laughter, fun, silence and just chilling out with the person you love are a crucial part of keeping a relationship spontaneous and alive.In the professional sphere: These people thrive in careers that offer them plenty of travel, variety, networking, and challenges.

Astrological sign: Leo

Pros: Kind and helpful, energetic, optimistic, straightforward, and loyal

Cons: Headstrong, egoistic, possessive, dominating, impatient, arrogant

Sexuality: While she’s out there fighting for equality on the war front, Gretchen is also an equal opportunity employer in her love life. Although her attraction varies from person to person ––and she tends to seek out women when she wants to actually enjoy herself vs. men when there’s something to be gained–– one thing remains constant. Her attention span is short, but she likes to keep people on the leash for a long time after she’s gone; though she doesn’t want every person she goes for, she always wants them to want her, even when she’s already moved on and wandered away.

She likes to be liked, wants to be wanted, and needs to be needed…even though the latter of those is one of her biggest turn-offs when she’s actually faced with it. She’s far from the manic-pixie-dream-girl trope, but it’s often one that she projects to others, hoping they’ll see her as something elusive, mysterious and unforgettable. Whether or not she remembers them a year from now is unimportant.

As far as committed relationships go, Gretchen has only been in one ever–– something that evolved between her and one of her closest friends at school. She’s shut that part of her heart down and not allowed herself to dwell on the effect the collapse of that relationship had on her, but it’s wrecked her far more than she’s realized and will crop up more and more the longer she’s back in England, in familiar surroundings.

A little more on Gretchen + interpersonal relationships...

Although she craves the same validation she doles out to others, intimacy is something she won’t allow into her life. She’d rather be remembered for being the enigmatic girl who slipped out of bed before her partner was awake, to stay on their mind and be remembered as a privilege not an obligation. She’d rather be known as someone flighty and unattainable than have to face rejection, or the loss of someone she’d really grown attached to.

When it comes to people who do really know the ‘real’ her––like her family, for instance––flaws and all, she often experiences a discomfort wherein she feels that they don’t really know her. She lives in such a state of flux, movement, change, action. She feels as though she’s learning every day. She feels as though she’s an entirely new person every morning when she wakes up, or with every new phase she enters. Order of The Phoenix Gretchen is not the same as Gryffindor Gretchen who is not the same as the girl who once sat on her grandfather’s knee for story time. If they were looking at her like she was the same person now as she was back then (for she really doesn’t know how strongly consistent her inconsistent personality has remained over the years), then they had to be wrong, didn’t they?

Sum your character up in three words: Shake It Off

In Character // [GRADUATES & ADULTS]

Occupation:

Technically speaking, Gretchen is a full-time member of the Order. However, her actual career path is different on paper, and quite unique, even for the Order roster. Nobody blinked an eye when restless, can’t-commit-to-a-path Gretchen took a position with a Temp Agency. She loved it, and could easily talk about why; meeting new people all the time, different jobs from week to week, the chance to travel and network and dip her toes into fresh waters. One week, she might be a secretary for someone high-up at the Ministry whose usual receptionist was sick; the next, a cater waiter at a fancy, pureblood-thrown cocktail event; the next, tending bar at a respectable hotel. However, the twist comes (like most twists in her live have come) from Albus Dumbledore himself. The agency is one of the institutions compromised by the Order of the Phoenix and under its thumb. She goes, strictly speaking, where she’s needed, trying to blending into situations that she otherwise wouldn’t have access to and trying to collect information from figures that might have otherwise not trusted her, or remained behind closed doors.

Where do they live?

After she’d exhausted her travel options [see last history point] Gretchen took a flat above a shop (not her grandfather’s) in Diagon Alley. Her place is a sprawling one-bedroom with a lot of light, and she can only afford it because the actual bedroom is occupied and paid for by a rarely-around, wealthy Chinese woman named Zhi Ruo who keeps to herself and never complains about the state of the main room of the apartment, which Gretchen occupies…and occupies, and occupies and occupies.

The living room/kitchen combination is like something out of a bizarre, very pink film–– Gretchen sleeps on a floor-level mattress over by the windows, surrounded by a sea of freestanding clothing racks overflowing with fun furs, outfits she’s never worn but ‘might some day’ and winter coats that are aesthetically pleasing but very out of season. Books stand in freewheeling piles around the apartment, the couch is a futon that is neither comfortable nor matching to the rest of the décor, and despite owning a very good wand that could take care of the job easily, most dishes put into the sink tend to live there for about a week.

Still, the place has a charm to it and while it’s extremely messy, it’s at least clean and navigable.

What branches of magic are they best/worst at, and why?

Far and away, Gretchen’s best when it comes to a duel. She was never the type of person content to be ‘a second’ to anyone in anything, so fighting for herself was something she had to grow into quickly. She’s prone to thinking before she speaks and acting on impulse, so it’s little surprise how many scrapes she’s gotten herself into over the years. The last thing she wants is to be seen as someone who can’t put their money where their mouth is; she doesn’t often lose duels badly, but in her school days it wasn’t exactly uncommon to see her traipse back into the common room with a set of scraped knees or a bloody nose. Gretchen is quick on her feet and unafraid of pulling punches once she’s thought of them; the quick brain-to-hand trigger pull isn’t the most practical quality to have, but it’s kept her alive up until now. So she isn’t going to complain.

Her worst subject in school was Transfiguration–– she just didn’t have time for the mental gymnastics it seemed to require of her. Gretchen is a very ‘tell it as it is’ person, because she tends to see things as they are, too. She has little patience for people with a poorly-covered-up agenda, hates suckups and, for someone who spends so much of her time pretending to be someone else on a mission or lying to strangers in a bar just for the fun of it, hypocritically (but genuinely) hates being around those she deems as ‘fake’. It’s not a direct correlation, but much of this played into her frustration with the entire branch of Transfiguration. If a feather is a feather, it’s a feather and should stay a feather. She didn’t understand what point there was trying to turn it into a mouse–– why couldn’t she just go catch a mouse? Or conjure one? Teacups didn’t need tails and toads had no use for turning into eyeglasses. It had been drilled into her, over and over again, how practical the subject was supposed to be. But she never found a way to connect it to her own needs or interests, and so checked out at all the most crucial moments.

It also had to do with the fact that she immediately soured on the class after she wasn’t naturally talented at it after the first few lessons…but she’ll never tell that side of the story.

Other:

Gretchen comes from a family of wand makers; anyone who got their wands at age eleven from her grandfather’s shop, or even heard of the famed Diagon Alley dispensary, could clock that fact about her immediately. Even though she’s never been the Wand Expert in her family of experts or had any interest in taking up the family trade for her own, she’s always been a little bit possessive about wandlore.

She can’t help but interrupt someone in public who claims to know a lot about the subject; chances are, she knows enough to step on the one tiny detail they got wrong, and build up her own projected sense of knowledge in the subject.

In that same vein, she gets outwardly picky about anyone treating their wand poorly ––whether that be dropping it, storing it wrong, or holding it badly–– despite the fact that she’s prone to doing all of these same things. Hell, she’s been known to test out nail polish swatches on the handle of her wand; after all, she has access to the best wand-cleaning solutions in the world, with a family discount to boot.

Character History // [ALL CHARACTERS]

+ There is nothing surprising about the fact that Gretchen remembers perfectly the day she got her wand.

She had been eleven for less than five minutes, but she was already inside the lamp-lit walls of the family’s Diagon Alley shop. It was late, but she couldn’t even fathom being tired; the privilege of staying up late was a bonus along, but added to getting her first wand and being the center of family attention while she did so? There was an electricity running through her, a pure joy that was all the more evident by the fact that she was demurring with a practiced, humble air when she was met with congratulations.

She didn’t even complain when Geraldine, a year younger than her and therefore normally one of the ones who’d be made to stay home like Gretchen had had to every year before this, was permitted to come and watch. It was one more eye on her. Who was she to complain about that?

There would be no waiting for the store to open in the morning, no chance of getting stuck in line behind a future classmate of hers or elderly butterfingers looking for a repair. It was officially her birthday––had been since the clock struck twelve––and she was buzzing with anticipation at the center of a room that had fallen hushed with the same feeling. This was her night and, no matter how long it took to click with the perfect wand for her, the end result was going to change her life.

To this day, she can remember the vibration in her palm, the warmth spreading throughout her entire arm, all the way up to her heart. This was her wand, it had found her, it had chosen her. She’d been born and bred a proud Ollivander, and she felt it in every cell of her body in that moment: choked up, beaming, really connected to the finely polished wood in her hand. It was a moment she’d been looking forward to her entire life––

––and although she was genuinely over the moon, she found herself soon wishing it was a moment she could have drawn out longer. It had taken a while to find the right wand, but not that long. Her Grandfather was a pro, after all; aided by what she later found out was a well-informed guess by her middle sister, it wasn’t odd that he was quick to find her the perfect companion. Still, she wished she could have played more, tested out more wrong wands so that it felt all the more better when she finally found her wand. Eyes would have been on her a little longer; they all could have shouldered, together, the sudden burst of joy and relief that the delayed gratification would bring.

It was, on paper, the perfect night and she always describes it as such. Still, she can’t help but remember privately looking back the fact that she wished it had been something a little...more. That was what happened when Gretchen built something up in her head for long enough, or hit a ‘traditional milestone’. She’s always wanted everything to be celebratory, memorable and way over the top.

Her grandfather remarked later in the night that Gretchen would have tried out every wand in the shop if it’d let her–– and though he’d said it fondly, there was something in his voice and eye both that rang of truth, of unintentional criticism. This is something she remembered perfectly for years as well. It was like he saw her, really saw her, in that moment and wasn’t a huge fan. Gretchen knew that her grandfather loved her–– in her bones, she knew it.

But it became very evident to her on that night that he didn’t understand her, or didn’t want to. Even if it was all in her head, that night was the start of a slight wall going up between Garrick and herself; it was uncomfortable to be known instead of fawned over, to be told things about yourself that were true and known to others before they were known to you.

There’s a chance he didn’t mean anything by the comment at all, or didn’t even remember it himself over a decade later.

Regardless, Gretchen makes sure to make a point of picking up several wands from the shelves every time she visits the shop and idly waving them about–– just looking! she’ll say, or just to see!

+ Gretchen has always been a fighter.

It wasn’t that she was an early, small or sickly baby–– none of the things that “she’s a fighter!” usually gets tacked to describing. In fact, even though her sisters followed very close behind her in age, Gretchen was a healthy, chubby, happy and well-attended baby who enjoyed the glowing spotlight of being the oldest. She was doted on, happy to soak up the attention from her parents, their friends and the family’s extended relatives. Dinner parties were her platform to put on shows; when the lines of questioning came about her starting school and how her classes were getting on, she didn’t shy from the questions but indulged in the fact that she had a captive audience, especially for that first year of Hogwarts before Geraldine joined as her peer.

However, she has always been searching for reasons to fight–– especially if it was for the ‘Right Reasons’. She’d wait for her parents to punish one of her siblings, and then take the side of her sister with fiery determination. She wasn’t pretending to love her sisters unconditionally or anything; she really did. But she took these fights to a degree they never needed to reach, if only because they were so justifiable. Of course she was going to launch herself, uninvited, between her parents and Gloria when the latter hadn’t cleaned her room (“She’s my sister! Of course I’m going to stand up for her!”) or between her parents and Geraldine when the former accused their middle daughter of spending too much time conspiring to begin her apprenticeship with Garrick early (“You’re always talking about how family is so important, why can’t you stick to your words? You’re complete hypocrites.”)

Of course, the fact that she was so keen to jump into other people’s arguments with her sisters didn’t mean she was at all deterred from fighting with them herself. How could she help herself? She was right! Most of the time––the overwhelming majority of the time––Gretchen was so completely convinced that she was coming into things as the only person with the correct, clearest point of view. To her, it seemed worth fighting over. Fighting for. She had a genuine penchant for justice, but couldn’t help but be overly performative with it. It was a great way to ‘scratch the itch’ before the Order came into her life and gave her the ultimate goal.

It was this knack for fighting that got her into trouble once, as a student. And it was that same knack for fighting that got her out of it, as a young adult.

For the former, she was a sixth year. Something about her had grown restless–– maybe because she was past the year when she could use ‘I have OWLs to prepare for’ to sound importantly busy but it was far too soon for her to consider beginning preparation for NEWTS. She’d always had a hot streak, always used ‘why not?’ as the perfect reasoning to loudly, proudly and pointedly share her many opinions. She liked to think of herself as very fearless. Others had different adjectives in mind, and it wasn’t long before bickering with a certain stuck-up Ravenclaw boy (Jorah Daniels, a name she refuses to forget even now that it’s all ancient history) turned into setting up a duel. It would have to be after curfew, no doubt. She needed a second; she needed to make sure her wand was ready; she needed to wear comfortable shoes for once.

The duel itself was unremarkable. Each of them got a few good shots in. A few knock-backs, some singed robes, a handful of satisfyingly green bruises. They were fighting pridefully over their pride, not with any real violence in their hearts. But still, as teens with wands were wont to do, they got carried away. Things got louder, and stickier, and neither was interested in calling things off and calling it a tie. Once escalated, it probably would have continued for hours––or until a tragic injury occurred––but interference happened swiftly and suddenly, with the sound of unfamiliar shoes approaching around the corner. The students all scattered, but in the shuffle Gretchen dropped her wand. She could have gone back for it the next day (on the off chance it wasn’t picked up and used to identify her), but it was her wand. She was bonded to it, it had served her well tonight and, besides, something felt inherently uncomfortable about running away from something she’d set up with so much conviction about it being the right thing to do.

If she really thought she was in the right here, didn’t it make sense to stand by it and accept her punishment? There was a little drama in that, sure. A little Martyrdom. But those were two things she was well versed in, and they too aided in her hesitation to bolt.

When she came face to face with Headmaster Dumbledore and was asked to escort him back to his office, she was sure she was done for. That her parents would be written to, or that a mountain of detentions were about to come her way. Instead, she was treated to a delightfully confusing conversation that seemed to be filled with inside jokes that she wasn’t on the inside of yet, and innuendo she wasn’t worldly enough (to her chagrin) to understand.

She did not get in trouble that night.

Years later, standing alone in the dusty familiarity of her grandfather’s wand shop, she did not get in trouble either. She’d been wandering the globe. There was still dirt under her fingernails from hiking in Spain, a bruise on her thigh from the Australian bush, and a cough rattling her lungs she’d picked up on the train back to London. It hadn’t taken her long to get the itch to fight again––that’s what happened when she didn’t have enough to keep her occupied, too busy to take up any new causes to champion. A curfew had been set over the city in the wake of the worsening war, but Gretchen’s feet didn’t know how to stop moving her around; a studio apartment couldn’t contain her, and it had been a while since she’d tried to fight the urge. This last duel had gotten the better of her wand. The wood around the base was splintered slightly; a disaster for most people, but a quick trip to see Geraldine was all it meant for Gretchen.

Dumbledore needed to only cast a quick look at her wand to know what she was up to–– there was a look on his face, a twinkle in his eye. Gretchen felt the same mix of embarrassment and fierce pride that she had years ago as a student. She met his eye and didn’t speak until he did. When he finally broke the silence, it was not with an admonishment, as she suspected (some people never outgrow looking up to their teachers), but with an offer.

Gretchen quit her aimless wandering after that. She had direction now, a permanent cause to champion as a newly minted member of the Order of the Phoenix. She bought into the organization immediately ––always one for disguises, adrenaline, the poetry of espionage and, above all else, throwing herself into causes that she deeply believed deserved justice.

+ Gretchen’s family has always been at the center of her life.

Everyone knows that she’d do anything for her sisters, no matter how many frustrated arguments they’ve had over the years or how inconsistent she is about keeping in touch now that they aren’t conveniently herded under one roof from September to June.

Besides her sisters, Gretchen had always been close to her parents. Sure, fights weren’t uncommon––especially as the growing paints kicked in––but they always made up with a stiff nod and a hug, and the whole thing turned to dust and got swept easily under the nearest rug. Growing up, Gretchen liked to be the one to host her friends for sleepovers or summer trips. She was proud of her house, comfortable showing off her room, and not-so-secretly pleased every time someone new came over for the first time and remarked to her how in love her parents seemed. ‘That’s just how they’ve always been,’ Gretchen would say with a wave of her hand, because it was true and because it sounded appropriately humble. She’d lived a warm, happy childhood with the warm, happy support of her family.

Which was why it was such a horrible, jarring, awful shock when the Ollivander parents sat their trio of girls down over Christmas dinner and told them that their marriage was over.

Gretchen, to the shock of many, took the side of the mother she’d always clashed with over the father who’d always patted her on the head and slipped her extra spending money. She has a lot of reasons to give people, each revealing a part of her heart but neither telling the whole story: her mother deserved someone who actually made her happy; her father had never been able to properly express his appreciation and romantic love for her; her mother needed her support more; her father may not have been so innocent himself, did anybody think to ask?

At her core though, Gretchen knows that her loyalty to her mother had come for the same reasons she’d fought with the woman so much over the years: Gretchen was becoming her, surely and not all that slowly. With every year she aged, Gretchen saw her mother’s face in the mirror a little more, or heard her in the timbre of her own voice when she got angry, or found herself picking up a hobby she’d rolled her eyes at her mother doing when Gretchen was a child still living at home. She saw in her mother the person that she might end up being herself one day–– someone she was starting to think she actually wanted to be, too.

What if this was another part of the family genes? What if Gretchen was destined to wander along the same path, in the older woman’s footsteps, and ended up pulling out the rug from under her family because she wasn’t built to stay loyal either? It didn’t sound like her at all, and it was surely a selfish was of thinking–– but it was also more effort than she’d ever put in before, trying to picture herself in her mother’s shoes. It lit a fire of empathy in her and let her choose between the rock and the hard place that Christmas dinner had become the night the girls were told about the pending divorce.

Never one to do things halfway, Gretchen has found herself now almost stubbornly close with her mother and not communicating with her father at all. It’s an extreme position to take, not to mention an unnecessary one, but Gretchen isn’t Gretchen if she doesn’t throw herself headlong into one side of a battle. It’s true for the war, and it’s true for home life. Not going all-in left room for doubt, loose threads and messes. If she hadn’t chosen all at once, she wouldn’t have been able to choose at all–– and to this day, she’s too proud and scared all at once to admit to herself that maybe she needn’t have chosen at all.

+ Gretchen is at a curious place in her life...

...caught between the phase of her youth where she’s “too young to have to grow up and make any long term plans” but well into that phase of young adult life where she doesn’t like to be told what to do. Too young to care, but old enough to know better–– it’s a phase of arrested development, where she has one foot in childhood and one in adulthood, and is determined to pick her favorite aspects of each to life out.

She’s an adult, after all...on the days that it suits her to be. She’s too young for the responsibilities she doesn’t want to take on, but too old to be told how she should be living her life. She’s going to live forever; she’s done enough living to have her opinions fleshed out and fully informed. It’s a middle ground mess of contradiction and, though the growing pains might eventually overtake her, she’s enjoying it for the time being.

In some ways, this has always been a part of her personality. In others, though, her current phase can be traced back to her extended Australian vacation. Gretchen had emerged from Hogwarts, wind at her back and several NEWTS successfully under her belt–– she’d always been a great standardized test-taker. She had a lot of things that she could do with herself, and even more things she wanted to get done.

The first thing on that list was to travel. Gretchen ended up staying on the road for a long time after her graduation from Hogwarts, even before she became involved with the Order. As the first of her sisters to graduate from Hogwarts and enter the real world, she felt quite worldly. So, it was off into the world she went.

‘I’m thinking about taking a whole month,’ was how the planning had started.

By the time arrangements had begun, she was looking and being gone closer to two months, which was the minimum time needed to visit all the colorful pins she’d stuck at haphazard angles into the fancy, rolled-out maps that had become the apple of her eye.

In the end, she left without telling anyone when she would be back, because she didn’t know herself. She just wanted to go.

First, she flitted off to Australia for a few months, only telling a few where she was going and doing a poor job of staying in touch. When it came time to return home, she realized that she didn’t want to–– too much to face, or not enough to keep her interested. The answer she told herself changed by the day. So, she extended her exploration.

A two week backpacking trip through Spain became a four week backpacking adventure through Iceland–– then Germany, then Italy, then South Africa, then Taiwan. She had a small sum of money to blow through, care of her family graduation gifts, and a sense of adventure that only grew stronger with each new destination.

When she finally tired out, Gretchen came back home, to her parents’ houses, first to live with her mother (who she’d unequivocally sided with in her parents’ divorce), and then with her father (after a blow-up fight with her mother, brought on by being an adult, albeit a young one, thrust back into close quarters with a parental figure).

Only a month of this song and dance was enough to prove to Gretchen that she wasn’t fit for it–– she felt too old for her parents’ rules, too independent to fit into the skin of her childhood life and, most importantly, too restless to keep living in a place she’d already lived. From there, she explored a variety of short-term situations–– six weeks with a ‘boyfriend’ (the term loosely applied), two in a hostel, a handful of sublets across London and outer, smaller cities.

Eventually, she ended up right where her original journey had started. Living above a shop in Diagon Alley, consorting with old professors and forgetting to alert a lot of her old friends that she was back. Although so much about her life now is the same as when she’d originally left––and she still comes and goes as she pleases, rarely giving warning––the core mission of all that travel was successful. Gretchen felt different, like she’d outrun something, or grown well into her own skin.

And on the days that she doubts that growth, or worries that she’s just the same as the teen who’d originally bought an armful of world maps from Flourish and Blotts? At least she has some good stories to tell as a distraction.

Tools For Success // [ALL CHARACTERS]

Wand: Aspen, unicorn tail hair, 12 inches even

Amortentia: Cinema popcorn, peach perfume, fresh paint, red wine

Boggart: No offense to darling Gloria, but Gretchen has always been terrified of snakes. There’s no rhyme or reason or traumatic event behind it. She just can’t see one without shuddering, and doesn’t know what she’d do if faced with one in real life–– maybe it’s for good reason that she always wears high-heeled shoes tall enough to be weapons. Her footwear is no help when it comes to boggarts, however; the one that would appear if faced with a boggart out in the wild would be a cobra of massively exaggerated proportions, ready to strike and strangle her once she’s incapacitated with fear.

In The Hot Seat // [ALL CHARACTERS]

What are your characters political views and how do they see the upcoming war?

Gretchen has always felt the most responsible for her siblings…but that doesn’t mean she’s a mother hen. No, Gretchen has long had her own way of doing things, choosing to fiercely protect and defend her siblings from harm instead of actually encouraging them to stay out of harm’s way in the first place. It would have been hypocritical of her to do the latter, anyway. She has always been a bit of a thrill seeker herself; there’s never been an adventure or a chance to prove herself that didn’t get her heart racing faster. She likes to feel like a protector, a defender of mankind.

She’s never been one for sitting back and silently refusing to voice her opinions…which is how she got tangled up with the Order of the Phoenix.

To Gretchen, the right side of the war is so obvious, and she’s determined to appear in the sympathetic and heroic half of the history books. Not only is she shameless about pointing at people and telling them that they need to care more about any issue that holds relevance at the moment, she’s at her best when the same is done to her. She has no hesitations about standing up for what she believes in, and actually gets off her butt to put her money where her mouth is–– or her wand, or her time, or her effort. She’s not pretending to care about the war, nor any of the smaller issues within the ecosystem of it. She very passionately believes in the Order’s mission and holds her involvement with it as a point of major pride…which is why it’s little surprise that it’s taken over much of her life.

Who is/was the most important person in your characters life?

She would never say it out loud ––for many reasons, many of which have to do with the fact that she thinks of herself as a family gal through and through–– but this title probably goes to Albus Dumbledore.

Gretchen definitely sees the Order through rose colored glasses, and is extremely entrenched in its mission and culture. Politics aside, it’s given her something to fight for. It’s given her training, preparation, wisdom from people she respects, and the chance to feel like she’s actually making a difference in the world. It’s tapped into her penchant for justice. It’s made her feel like she has a sense of control over things in such a scary, turbulent time.

It is, in many ways, her whole life–– and it’s a life that Albus Dumbledore gave to her, because he saw something special in her, something she’d always felt was there. He’s paved the way for her to become the person she wants to be, and she feels a deep indebtedness to him for that.

What is your character’s best quality?

Gretchen has a knack––mostly with strangers, but in some capacity with everyone she comes into contact with––to make people feel special.

She’s a touch to the arm and some deep eye contact that makes you feel listened to; she’s the person who repeats more loudly the question you asked but nobody else in the group heard. She makes people feel special and loved and interesting because she wants people to see her, in equal measure, as special and loving and interesting. She puts a huge emphasis on making people feel validated, on creating an air of intimacy–– which has been great for both Order recruiting purposes and with the success of her missions, since she’s talented at pulling people into her world and making them want to fan the flames with her.

Beyond that, she’s a fierce defender. She has a penchant for wanting to help out worthy underdogs, and actually puts the work in to make that happen. She doesn’t always perfectly practice what she preaches ––she’s human, after all–– but she does believe in getting off her butt and trying to change the world, which is more than can be said for some people she knows.

What is your character’s worst quality?

Gretchen is self-centered. What makes it worse is that she doesn’t realize this at all. For all she talks about the importance of self-indulgence and the benefits of focusing energy inward, she really has no clue how Gretchen-centric her entire worldview is.

She’s ‘practically an adult’ now, after all; she’s traveled, she reads the paper, she has her degree from Hogwarts. She’s a member of a vigilante organization helping to stop the most violent war that Wester European Wizarding World has ever seen, for christsakes! She knows what she’s talking about.

Or, at least, that’s how she sees it.

Gretchen has always acted a certain way, acting out the impulses and vices of the version of herself that exists in her head: terribly charming, philanthropic, justice-seeking and enviable. She sees herself the way that she fancies herself; when she does something that she’s convinced is for someone else’s benefit, even if they haven’t asked for her help, she’s confused when they don’t effuse with thanks. Gretchen likes to do things her way and thinks that she knows best. The real disconnect comes when she fails to realize that not everybody sees her the way she sees herself–– or, in other words, the way she projects herself to be. Some people, especially the people that know her best, actually see her for everything she is, the good and the bad. And Gretchen just can’t understand why they seem to dwell on the bad (in order words, notice it at all) instead of focusing on all the good she does (tries to do/intends to do one day/is thinking about doing).

There is a lot that’s paradoxical about Gretchen–– for instance, she wants to be praised heavily for her hard work and skills yet, at the same time, wants everyone to see her as someone who is effortlessly talented. It’s easy for her to smile and shrug off a compliment by saying it’s no big deal. But if the compliments stop after that, despite her deflection, she’ll become cold and confused, wondering where the new critique is stemming from.

All of this stems from––and flows back to––her self-centeredness. It’s hard for her to wrap her head around the fact that people see things so differently from the way that she does, especially because she’s spent so much time trying to get into her own head.

What are your character’s bad habits?

Gretchen is in massive, massive debt. It’s not a fact she goes around spreading, but her lines of credit have been well abused–– and not just because of her extended travel adventures or on-the-low-side paying job. Gretchen loves her instant gratification. In fact, she loves instant gratification almost as much as she loves pink fur coats, of which she has three. She loves to shop. She eats primarily upscale takeout food. She signs up for boutique yoga classes, has a never-ending stock of face masks and creams, and insists on being the one to pay when she goes out with even the most distant of acquaintances. If she feels the urge to go out, she’s going to go out rather than check her budget. And if someone she meets out at the bar insists that she’s got to come cliff-jumping with him and ‘some cool people’ off the coast next Thursday, she’s going to toss some cash at that before consulting her calendar to see if Thursday even works.

There are a few other things, that she sees as devilishly endearing yet drive others up the wall: she’s never on time; has a tendency to double-book herself and have to flake on plans; she’s bad at updating people on her life but finds herself bewildered when they don’t know what’s going on with her; she flirts all the time, whether she realizes it or not.

She sees all of these as fun quirks–– so there’s no chance of them turning around any time soon.

The Rumor Mill // [ALL CHARACTERS]

the good

Gretchen will do absolutely anything for her sisters. Even if they don’t see each other all that often outside of holidays; even if they’re known to bicker because of their different ways of seeing the world. She still considers them the best, most important people in her life and would walk through any fire to make sure they’re okay.

Gretchen can and will kick arse in a duel, and she’s great to have on your side in a fight. Whether that means a second in a proper wand-on-wand showdown or just someone to stand behind you and fiercely nod when you need to make a point, she has a fiery type of loyalty that can’t be shaken.

the true, but completely absurd

Gretchen once accidentally, ‘technically’ prostituted herself. In Portugal, when she was nineteen, she entered into what she thought was a one night stand after a cantina’s last call. There was a huge language barrier, though, and some vague gesturing was all the communication the two engaged in before setting off together. To Gretchen, it had been small talk; to him, she later found out, it was  a lively negotiation. As she was on her way out, backpack slung over one shoulder, the man passed some money her way. It didn’t occur to her until she was back at her hostel what must have happened there–– and to this day, it’s one of her favorite stories to tell when she’s had a few too many drinks, which is why it’s no wonder it’s made the rounds a bit.

the bad

Gretchen is a little bit of a hot mess. If you have plans with her, it’s best to confirm two or three times in the lead-up to make sure she’s actually coming...and to tell her to be there an hour before she actually has to be, to increase the chances she’ll show up on time.

Gretchen needs to be the center of attention, and likes things to happen on her terms. It’s no wonder that she’s flitting herself all over the globe; there are always new audiences to be found, and new groups of friends to exhaust.

the false

Gretchen’s only so good at dueling because she convinced that grandfather of hers to cram an extra unicorn tail hair into her wand in hopes of doubling its power.

Anything goes // Free section!

The official Gretchen Ollivander playlist can be found here !

[myrskytuuli]

Holy hell, okay, this is not a drill. Goldie O’Gilt is making an appearance in a comic, and it’s not a cameo.

So, my drug dealer got me hooked with some 2017 Topolino, and I need to scream about it, because Goldie!

That’s right, she is back, and looks absolutely stunning.

So, this is an Italian comic, and therefore it can be expected that the tragic romance™, that is more popular in the post-Rosa duck comic tradition, has been toned down a lot. Now full disclosure, I’m shipper trash and am fully committed to the tragic romance™. I wrote a 50 000+ words fanfic about it. I am also known sufferer of Brigitta MacBridge nonsense, so while this rant might be biased, I try to be biased in a gentle way. It’s not your fault Brigitta, that you have been written that way. Or that Scrooge and Goldie are soulmates. Ahem.

But to the comic itself. There are lots of things I love about it, and then there are some things that make me side-eye it in vaguely disapproving manner. I swear, not all of those reasons are shipping reasons. Okay yeah they pretty much are.

(Quick, follow me to the kitchen, you can throw a coffeepot on my face, and we can roleplay our night together in White Agony Creek anew!)

The premise of the story is pretty much, what if Goldie and Brigitta properly met? It’s…not a lot. There is no plot beyond: what if Goldie and Brigitta had a girls’ day out. Which I guess is fine, because that is all it is supposed to be. It is a slice of life character study. Usually I’m all about those, but…well Goldie doesn’t really shine when you don’t give her anything to do. In Rosa/Barks stories (which are the only stories where we see Goldie as a character) the focus has never been solely on anyone’s feelings. They have been very action-packed stories with any hinted romance taking a firm backseat.  

What I’m trying to say is, that I’m disappointed that Goldie didn’t get to join in any of those silly Italian adventures. Not even little bit of shenanigans. Aww, and it could have been so fun too.  

(You mean you didn’t come all this way just to ravish me against this discount-yard-sale table?)

Goldie is in Duckburg to collect a debt that Scrooge owes him. Solid beginning. Unfortunately, we never see her collecting this debt! The money issue is dropped from the story way too quickly for my tastes. Because while I 100% believe that Scrooge would avoid having to pay up any dubious debts, I do not believe that Goldie would give up that quickly.

And even more importantly, it would have been hilarious to see some actual petty shenanigans going on between these two. Note that it is mentioned that the original debt was 20$, which Goldie is trying to claim back with stupidly high compound interest. There is a story right there, nothing else needed. Just show me the ridiculous lengths these two are willing to go for 20$, while the rest of Duckburg watches in horror and bafflement. Also, hint that the real reason why these two keep the conflict going is that this way they can spend time together without actually talking about their feelings. Boom, story done. God, they should hire me to make scripts for these comics.

No?

Okay fine, let’s see what the actual story is all about.  

Oh yes. Brigitta. This story was all about Brigitta.

For no good reason whatsoever, Brigitta loses all of her cools over the situation.

1.Don’t call him your Scrooge. You don’t own him.

2.Don’t call Goldie a dusty memory, that’s rude.

3.Goldie had the receipts, she has a genuine claim for that 20$, she’s not doing anything wrong for you to start insulting her!

Yes, yes, she is jealous and all that jazz, but honestly. It’s pretty hypocritical of her to “protect” Scrooge and his 20$ when Brigitta herself so frequently is an antagonist against Scrooge.

The following temper tantrum from Goldie delights me to no end, not because it is aimed towards Brigitta, but because it lines up so perfectly with all of my headcanons for Goldie. Sure, she might act cool and dignified these days, but deep down she is still the hair-trigger tempered diva, that would stay inside a burning building just for the aesthetic.

This has nothing to do with Scrooge, and everything to do with the fact that you called her old. This primadonna will now destroy you mentally, because that’s how she rolls. You will not disrespect the original material girl without consequences.  

(I am the only person who has ever conquered Scrooge. Wow okay there Goldie, maybe tone it down a bit. I mean, yeah girl you are…but maybe don’t overshare too much.)

Was that kind of a bitchy move? Yes. She is kind of a bitchy person.

My next grumble about this story, is the weird way it deals with Scrooge. I cannot say anything specific…but there is just a really weird vibe to how he is written in here. The weird inner monologue on how he might be able to use the two women against each other to get rid of both of them…was…um.  

While my first impression on Goldie’s, I am Scrooge’s number one love interest, speech seemed to be a bit beneath her, I then realised that she isn’t actually saying anything about her own regard for Scrooge. She is bragging about how Scrooge used to be bewitched by her, because that is the kind of thing that a dancehall girl would brag about. Pffft, yes it was Scrooge who was losing his mind over me back in Klondike, I was cool as a cucumber the whole time. Scrooge was nothing more than another notch on my bedpost. I have a heart made of ice, haven’t you heard.

Anyways, Scrooge decides to get rid of Brigitta by confirming everything Goldie just said. And I know that the story wants us to take Scrooge’s words with a grain of salt, because they are just a plan to get Brigitta to leave him alone….which does nothing to make me sympathise with Brigitta.

Putting my shipper heart on the side, pretending to be in love with someone else, to get rid of an admirer, does not create tension for ambiguous love triangle. It is what girls do in crowded bars when some drunk guy doesn’t leave them alone.

(Sorry Brigitta, but can you please leave. I was hoping to get conquered tonight, if you know what I mean.) 

(They look like mom and dad getting yelled at by their daughter.)

Once again! What exactly are you mad about!? Which part of, I’m in love with someone else, gives you reason to get angry at them???? Remember that Brigitta at least is supposed to believe Scrooge to be fully sincere in his statement.  

Back to Scrooge being a little shit. In a way, I want to be mad about this, but I’m not going to. Because lets not mystify Goldie too much, and pretty much all the rest of Scrooge’s family and loved ones have at least once been sent through that trap door.

No, let me grumble a little bit after all. I would heartily endorse this, if this was actually about the 20$. But it’s not. The whole thing is framed so that Goldie can have the great epiphany, this is how Brigitta must always feel!

Oh please.

Also, I think that we are supposed to be angry at Scrooge for being so callous towards both of the ladies, so that we can root for them becoming friends later. Which, yeah fine, but do we really have to. One of the things I most despise in Brigitta centred stories is that they by default make Scrooge into a dick. They have to. The whole story has to be built on the idea that Scrooge is just afraid of girl cooties, and therefore has to be pushed a little, so that he will eventually play nice, even with a girl. It is the only way to make Brigitta’s advances feel somehow justified. And in this case the characterisation bleeds to include Goldie under the umbrella of women that I don’t want anywhere near me, because women cost money or whatever.

So, it mostly feels like Goldie has to be booted out of the office, so she doesn’t trick Scrooge into marriage or some other sneaky thing that women are always doing. Sighs eternally. 

(Oh my god, she is a serial killer. No one else has this many pictures of one person on their walls.)

But this story isn’t even about Scrooge. It is about female friendship. Which is a beautiful thing, and really this story does manage to do lot of things right.

(Hey, can I crash on your couch? Turns out that Scrooge didn’t like it how I called him my conquest in front of you and the staff. He’s always been a bit of a prude like that.)

I’m not really fan of the whole, we have lots in common thing, because they…don’t. And the whole, I now understand your perspective, because now I have been rejected too… doesn’t really work, because Goldie wasn’t proposing anything in the first place. Remember how she was here for that 20$! I do! Can we get back to that! Goldie wasn’t asking Scrooge out, wasn’t asking him to marry her, she was asking for money, and getting the cold shoulder for that should not come as some kind of an epiphany!

Nevermind. That’s cute as heck, I don’t even care how we got there.

Goldie would make a good mentor for Brigitta. As would Scrooge. The world would be a better place if Brigitta was treated like an over-enthusiastic businesswoman who wants to learn all of Scrooge’s tricks, and Scrooge was treated like grumpy, slightly unwilling teacher.

(So, what was Scrooge like when he was young? Oh, you know, very conquerable.)

Why is her hair silver, what is this travesty, colouring person you had one job!

Goldie tells Brigitta the story of sleeping pills, thievery, forced labour, kidnappings, and other general criminal activities that make up their tragic romance™.

(Oh, so when you slip him a pill on a first date, it makes you morally complex, but if I did that it would be just creepy and weird!)

(Context Brigitta, it’s all about the context!)

If I was Brigitta, I would feel a bit wary drinking anything with her, after the story she just told.

And then I almost got my hopes up, that something amazing was going to happen! Brigitta started to self-reflect upon herself, and doubting the way her life is now constructed. She admitted that she doesn’t have a positive relationship with Scrooge, and that maybe she is wasting her life. For a moment there, I thought that Brigitta was going to develop as a character.

There was a moment. A glorious moment, when I really thought that this was where the official policy concerning Brigitta was going to be changed, and she would stop trying to marry Scrooge. I did get my hopes up.

Aaaaaand, then this happened. 

I guess it was inevitable, that Brigitta would get a cheerleading speech from Goldie, to bring back the status quo, but damn does it still feel weird. While I completely, 100% support Goldie’s you are a good and smart woman, if Scrooge doesn’t want that it’s his loss, that is where it should have ended.

Because the part about: because your feelings are painful it means that your love is real, and you shouldn’t give up on them, is complete nonsense. If a relationship is hurting you, it is not worth pursuing!!! Goldie implying that Brigitta’s hurt feelings are the reason she shouldn’t give up on Scrooge, I asdfghjkl, what the fuck!!!!

Secondly, that’s all well and dandy that Goldie now thinks that Brigitta’s love is real, but how exactly does that change anything?! You don’t think that maybe it should be Scrooge who gets to decide who is allowed to make romantic advances towards him!

Scrooge is not an object whose ownership you get to negotiate amongst yourselves!!

more, or less direct translation: you have continued to beat on to conquer who you love.

That is not a good thing!!

Yeah whatever. Goldie is his past, maybe Brigitta can be his future. Great. And I guess these two making a friendship with each other and admitting that both have the equal right to present themselves as options of romance for Scrooge is kind of mature and respectful towards everyone, if Brigitta wasn’t…you know Brigitta. She has not been known to respect Scrooge’s boundaries.

Goldie makes some great faces in here, and I will fully enjoy them. Even if I at the same time roll my eyes at the mandatory, lets punish Scrooge part of any Brigitta comic. You do know that while maybe him booting you, Goldie, out of the office could be seen as mean, he did absolutely nothing disrespectful towards Brigitta. Scrooge owes her zero apologies, because he never even said a mean word towards her! Brigitta had her whole sulk, because she thought that you two were hooking up. That’s not a crime.

In this continuity, I can understand that Scrooge would prefer to be married to his money. Because these women are written kind of unreasonable.

The inevitable self-reflection. Scrooge admits that both women are important parts of his life, and that he does care for both of their well-being. Cute, believable, satisfying. Well done everyone. I still firmly believe that Scrooge sees Brigitta more as a younger sibling than potential lover. But that’s just a headcanon, so feel free to come to your own conclusions. 

(That is a duck who feels uncomfortable.)

The ladies return to the money bin just in time to eavesdrop on Scrooge’s monologue, and find out that he cared for them both after all. And honestly, I think these pictures tell everything that needs to be said about how much Scrooge cares about Brigitta’s advances.  

God, she looks cute, I forgive this story for everything, Goldie is too adorable.

Well, I guess that this was the first time that Goldie has made a proper appearance in the Italian duck universe, and all in all, not bad. Maybe I will get an entirely new look on the story, if it gets properly translated, and I don’t have to play the I’m pretty sure I know what this means, game.

Congrats if you made it all the way here, these ramblings were long.

Ankkaneito returns back to the hole, where she came from.

[hcfkid-blog]

resident trash can monster reporting for duty with another character. please love me. jackson here is another old oc of mine i haven’t played in a while, but old enough to the point where i have practically perfected his intro so it’ll look pretty vs. the mess that was damien’s. reADY? let’s go.

* 「 ━ △ ❛ is that HERMAN TØMMERAAS walking around edgewood ? wait, no, it’s just that TWENTY year old, JACKSON KENNEDY ! they’ve lived here for HIS WHOLE LIFE now and are known as THE WASTED INTELLECT around town, likely due to how ADROIT and OBSTINATE they act. they’re also A PIZZA DELIVERY GUY at LITTLE SLICERIA, and some people seem to think they’re a CRIMINAL. ━ what do you think ? ( CIS MALE, HE/HIM. ) / ( RED, NINETEEN, SHE/HER, EST. )

aesthetic. it’s your older brother’s car that was old when he got it, backseat filled with crumpled receipts and mcdonalds wrappers. empty streets at two am, you’re alone but not lonely. fire escapes at night that you can practically pretend are terraces. your rigging is custom, built yourself, kept on the desk next to your bed – a basement all to yourself. you use the window as a door. a ‘business man’ in a threadbare hoodie, we’ll call it information broking. loud music though the slightly broken headphones of a probable fair-weather conspiracy theorist. you made it pretty damn far kid, but you wound up back here, starting fights in bars you don’t belong in. halt and catch fire.

raised in equal parts by a mother who deserved better and a brother who knew better, jackson’s father was conveniently absent – all he has is the last name. sometimes he claims to be the bastard son of one of the kennedy’s, but that's probably bullshit. he could have asked to see the birth certificate at eighteen but didn’t ( a. respect for his mother, b. the hassle, c. isn’t it better to believe he is ? you can’t do that when you know )

named after two presidents ( a strong legacy his father couldn't provide ), jackson felt himself shouldered with responsibility from a young age. people were sure he was going places. in school things came naturally, he barely studied and slid by easily. sent on scholarship to a university that will remain nameless ( please, don’t talk about it in front of him ) but when things didn’t CLICK he panicked. everyone had always praised him on how smart he was, he didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t anymore. 

two years later and he’s giving various excuses for dropping out of college ( flunking out ? being asked to leave ? ) .. so what. [ ’ i dropped out, smoked a lot of dope … not because of tahlia but because i’m unmotivated, or whatever. ’ ] excuses that, while built on grains of truth, were there to cover up what he couldn’t say, because letting people down by choice? well, somehow, that’s easier than not being able to live up to what they thought you were. blame it on weed, blame in on girls, blame it on yourself – just don’t let them think this was their fault, that they could have somehow done you better.

edgewood’s golden child, the prodigy of the trailer park, was gone [  hey guys it’s me ! .. the biggest disapointment you know. the kid couldn’t hack it, he’s back and he’s walking real slow. welcome home! ’ ]. no more high hopes of law school, of buying his momma that nice cape cod in the suburbs ( the one she would finally get to decorate with the clippings from better homes & gardens ). but his intelligence wasn’t, he was still smart as a whip. he could do better than delivering pizza for little sliceria, but trying is the first step to letting people down. 

picked up computers as a hobbie in high school. after college ( or the lack there of ) they became a means of survival. they were one of the few things that still came naturally to the boy [ ’ it’s all just logic and english comprehension, really. ’ ] and getting involved in gang activity in edgewood these days isn’t exactly difficult. he’s a dealer, but the junkies are looking for information, and his clients aren’t just the rough men at the back of glaxay. “ nice men ” ( ones will real suits, not button downs underneath sweatshirts ) will pay a good bit of money for what he can find [ ’ i don't quit. i pound mountain dew, oreos and adderall, and i don’t sleep until it’s done ’ ].

now he lives by himself in a cheap basement apartment [ ’ last owners left it smelling like cheap beer and sweat, and only half the lights actually turn on ’ ] but has dinner with his mother every tuesday. the one room flat is decorated cheaply [ ’ decked out mi casa for 2k38 ! … you guys know it’s gon'na be the end of the world right? ’ ], and looks more like a teenager’s bedroom then anything actually hi tech – including the rig on the trash picked desk across from the futon he calls a bed. 

[chirpyann]

Writing Inspiration, because advice is whack!

This is simply what I have learned about the writing process since I started writing in 2015. I don’t have a degree in English or any specialized training. I’m not published, but I hope to be. I’m just a woman who took the time to look things up and by trial and error, found what worked best for me. I present my findings to you, with the hope you’ll find inspiration and confidence, because if I can do this, anyone can.

Please visit your kitchen now. You’re going to need a whopping grain of salt.

Thoughts that have changed the way I view my personal success (have your grain of salt ready?):

Personal success is all that matters. Don't compare yourself to other writers except maybe to say, if they can achieve success so can I.

Always tell yourself you can. If the word "can't" enters your mind, remind yourself it's not your word, but the word of all the people who are wrong. Be right, say the right thing to yourself. Say, "I CAN!"

Be OK with good enough. Perfection is fantasy, it doesn't exist. My turning point was deciding to be happy with completion. I learned, and took to heart, this lesson from Brandon Sanderson (Mistborn Trilogy, The Reckoners Series, so much more) He has said, and I’m paraphrasing, If I never get published and I die with a closet full of unpublished manuscripts, it's all right, because I spent my life doing something I love.

Be inspired. Inspiration doesn't have to come from places that label themselves inspirational, like posters, speakers, etc... Find it anywhere. Find the things that light that fire in your gut. The things that make you want to write and never stop. For me, it's seeing comments from other writers—twitter and facebook posts, about how they're progressing on their own work. If they're getting ready to publish, I'm motivated to get there too. I watch Booktube videos. Listening to people talk about what they like and don't like about the books they read can provide validation and insight. Especially when what they like or don’t like can be found in what I've written. I also like to think that someday they'll talk about my book and won't that be fun!

Listen to everything other writers have to say about their process and try it with the following in mind...

There is no right way to write.

Anyone who says "How to" or "The best way" or "You need to" is only stating an opinion. Don't take any advice as fact. Especially mine.

After you try their method and it doesn't work, realize it's not because you're a failure, it's because their method isn't right for you. Throw it out, try something else. But hoard it in a safe place, because maybe this method would work if you tried it in combination with some other method. Even the process is a process.

Be happy for other writers successes. Never be jealous or think you can't get there. Remember, they started with crap too, they just worked their ass off and didn't stop when it got tough. They found a way to keep going. You just have to find your way too.

Read good books to become a better writer. Read bad books to find the flaws in your own work and to become a better writer. READ EVERYTHING. Read outside your genre and comfort zone. READ EVERYTHING.

First drafts are always, always, always, crap. Did I mention always? ALWAYS! Just write it. Don't scroll up. Even if you have a great idea about how to fix something you've already written, NEVER. SCROLL. UP! Make a note, highlight it and keep writing like you already made the change. Fix it in revisions, because the first draft is ALWAYS CRAP!

Grammar and punctuation don’t matter, that's what editing is for.

Plot holes don't matter, that's what second drafts and beta readers are for.

Prose doesn't matter, that's what revisions are for.

Write everything. Don't censor yourself. Don't revise before you've even written it down. Don't worry about whether or not something works or makes sense. If it's in your head, get it on paper. “You can't edit a blank page” (Nora Roberts), so write it down and if you find, during revisions, it’s bad—delete it. Don't put yourself in a position to regret not writing down what you wish you had written. WRITE IT!

Set goals. Whatever kind of goals work for you. If you need to set a daily word count goal, do it! If you just set a goal to write something, no matter how little, do it. The only goal I have, that pushes me, is to get my manuscript to the point I can submit query letters.

Don't enforce your goals to the point they discourage you. Change your goals to suit your mood and don't worry if you don't meet your goals. Remember, be happy. And if goals aren't making you happy or inspiring you to write, then throw them out!

Nothing you do is wrong. Writing is a creative process. Creative processes are personal—individual. You are not and will never be like anyone else. But here's the kicker, no one else will ever be like you. Only you can write the story in your head and you are the best person to tell that story.

“Beware of advice—even this.” (Carl Sandburg)

Don't listen to me. Find your own way, because I’m most likely            wrong.

Seriously. See number 5.

My process (please refer to number 5 and 13-15 and don’t forget your grain of salt):

I follow my own advice and don't do anything that doesn't work. What works for Project A may not work for Project B. I'm fluid in my process. I tried being rigid— planning—but all it did was give me “block.” When I decided not to conform to any rules or anyone's advice and instead decided to use their advice and rules as inspiration, I started writing without hesitation.

Right now, I’m a pantser. Which means I write by the seat of my pants. I don’t outline—ever.

I world build, but only as a way to spew out ideas. It’s like a wish list or a “wouldn’t that be cool” list. There’s no form or structure to my world building. It’s just pages upon pages of jumbled up thoughts. The closest thing I get to structure in my world building is lists of character names all in one place, so I don’t lose them, but that doesn’t always work out either, because I run out of room. I use a TON of post-it notes.

Remember, this might not work for you. Maybe you need structure. Or maybe you need a mix and maybe that mix is; 2% pants, 10% structure, 10% procrastination, 60% distraction, 15% daydreaming, and 3% writing. Whatever you find that works for you is 100% right!

If I'm stuck I do these things (check your hand, where’s your salt?):

I recognize that it's me, not some shapeless thing (writer's block.) I take ownership of my "block." I know I'm only stuck because I'm trying to take too much control. Maybe I want the character to go to the store and meet a friend, but I can't write it. The words aren't coming, I'm stuck, I'm blocked. Why can't I write something so simple!? Because they don't want to go to the store and see a friend. They want to go jump in a lake and be alone, because that's what they need right now and they'll go to the store later or maybe not. I'm stuck because I need to let the characters and story breathe and live their own lives. Even if the scenes I didn’t plan don't make the final draft, or the plot goes completely awry, it's OK, because I can revise something I've written (see number 9 above.)

Lots and lots of talking to myself. I think about my story and my characters and talk it through (not necessarily out loud, but sometimes—in the car, by myself.)

I pretend to be my characters and have them talk to each other. I write these conversations down or record them in the voice recorder on my phone. I’ve found my dialogue is a lot more natural doing this. I think I'll always do this, until I don't, because I won't do anything that doesn't work. And I'll know when it doesn't work, because I'll get “block.”

I give myself permission to do other things. But when I'm in the bathroom or doing the laundry or have a moment of silence, I think to myself "I can't wait to get back to writing!" I make sure my thoughts are always positive. I try not to say "I should be writing." If I start putting guilt or shame on myself, I know I'll quit. Event not writing is part of the writing process for me.

I listen to music and think about my project. Usually, eventually, a song will come on that makes me think of one of my characters and I'll get going again.

I do research. I research my setting (if it’s in our world) to see if I’m being genuine enough. I look up my characters Zodiac signs to see if the way I wrote them matches that signs personality description. Then I throw most of it out when I remember, it’s my book, I can do what I want! And I go back to writing.

I make character aesthetic boards on Pinterest. It’s just fun.

I start to read something that I think sucks. And when I think to myself, "I can do better than this" it lights a spark of competition for me to keep going.

I dream. I dream of going on book tours and signing autographs. Of getting fan art and posting it on my website. But I have to constantly tell myself that if I never achieve this, it's ok (see number 3 above.) It would be cool, but I'm happy with nothing but a finished story. Since I've spent so much of my life unhappy with myself, I come back to reality and enjoy how happy I am right now because I didn’t give up.

My personal Tips and tricks (Has your grain of salt dissolved yet? Get a new one. You’re going to need it):

Brackets [ ]: If I need a character name or town name, I put a description in brackets and keep going. For example [shop owner], [brother], [city]. Anything that I can't think of right now, I bracket a reminder and keep moving. Leigh Bardugo (Six of Crows) was my inspiration for this method.

NOTES (Much like the brackets): Sometimes I know what I want to write, but I don't feel like writing it at that moment, because something further in the story is begging to be written, so I'll make a note and highlight it. For example, NOTE: This is when [Character A] should break into the bank and there should be someone to stop them but I don't know who or how. I also put in a note when the story has taken an unexpected turn and I'll need to fix something 50 pages up in my revision. Inline notes help me organize thoughts and keep me moving (see number 8 above.)

I write in Notepad and copy/paste into a word processor like Word. I do this, because it allows me to ignore formatting. I don't worry about it looking pretty—indentation, spacing, etc... I just hit enter to start new lines for new paragraphs or dialogue and that's it. So it's just write, write, write, enter; write, write, enter, etc... I get way more words in a day this way, because I find I do a lot less inline editing. Notepad also doesn't have spell check, so I'm not distracted or annoyed by those stupid red, squiggly lines. (Yes, I know you can turn this off and write this way in a Word document, but there’s that stigma that I have to write a certain way in Word and I don’t have that stigma attached to Notepad.) Notepad allows me to make mistakes and not care about them.

I listen to music I don't listen to any other time. I don't listen to dub-step for enjoyment, but I find it easy to ignore and the constant driving beat keeps me going. Since I don't listen to music I love while I write, I'll never have to worry about getting sick of my music or associating music I enjoy with a project I hated. (BTW, this and the notepad thing are processes I discovered on my own. It’s possible other people do this, but I haven’t seen it. Proof, in my opinion, that everyone has their own way, they just have to find it.)

At the end of the day, be proud of what you accomplished, no matter how much you think the writing sucks, be proud that you're doing it.

I wish you good words and swift fingers.

Acknowledgements:

Thank you, my husband, for continuing to give me so much of this advice, even when I couldn’t hear it. Thank you for telling me I can, when I said “I can’t.” I wouldn’t be where I am without you.

Thank you, Em, for giving me an excuse to write all of this down. You inspire me.

Links to my inspiration:

I have tried to attribute as much as I can to specific people. Below are links to websites and people who have inspired me. I acknowledge this list may be incomplete. If you see the need for me to add attributions, please leave information in the comments and I will update this post. Thank you.

Brandon Sanderson BYU lectures 2016

Booktubers:

Katytastic

polandbananasBOOKS

TheBookLeo

The Sheep and the Wolf

PeruseProject

Facebook pages:

writershelpingwriters 

TheWriteLifeGroup 

writerscircle 

Goodreads

BookishBuzz

Websites/blogs (I will have to add to this. Apparently I didn’t bookmark everything):

Nat Russo

Additional inspiring things:

Twitter hashtags I follow:

#WriteTip OR #WritingTip OR #WritersBlock OR #WritersLIfe (put this in a search column in Tweetdeck) I also have a collection column to save my favorite tweets.

Books, liked and disliked, off the top of my head, that have inspired me:

In no particular order...

The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender (Leslye Walton)

Six of Crows (Leigh Bardugo)

Steeleheart (Brandon Sanderson)

You’re Never Weird on the Internet (Felicia Day)

The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)

The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)

Dead Until Dark (Charlaine Harris)

Shatter Me (Tahereh Mafi)

Harry Potter 1-7 (J.K Rowling)

Matilda (Roald Dahl)

Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher (Bruce Coville)

The Giver (Lois Lowry)

Graceling (Kristin Cashore)

Tesser: A Dragon Among Us (Chris Philbrook)

The Odyssey (Homer)

Hell House (Richard Matheson)

Throne of Glass (Sarah J Maas)

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)

[jcladeira]

My paintings for Spring 2017

Initially, this was meant to be a continuation of last semester’s project, but I decided to get a little more political. I will now describe them in the order that they are presented.

She-Wolf - The simplest and least politically charged of my works. This painting of a snarling wolf is meant to be a representation of myself as the artist. To put it simply I have been associated with the term ‘she-wolf’ for as long as I can remember. She’s snarling because she’s angry, and she’s angry because the world is in shambles. I has become such that everything one does is politicized, even if one does not intend to, and because everything one does is politicized it’s impossible to go through life without having to constantly defend ones position, especially if that position is to be non-political.

#LoveTrumpsHate - But Love is Hate. This work is very simple; my reaction to all the people on social media who made use of this hashtag after the election of Donald Trump as our president. My personal opinion on the matter of Donald VS Hillary will remain omitted from this series, but my personal opinion of the copious amount of hypocrites that used that ‘hashtag’ was extracted from my soul and immortalized on the canvas as a very Valentine’s Day themed she-wolf who appears to not be at all pleased with that Hashtag. 

#Halfie - A halfie is a term used by various ethnic groups in reference to those of their culture who are often mixed, usually with white racial groups. In the Romani language, the word for a person who is half-blooded is didikai and other groups have their own personalized words but I chose halfie because it is a little more universal and doesn’t require a translation for the intended audience. I digress. This work is another simple work with a straight forward message. Our country being so racially charged, it’s so often become White America VS Black America. It’s gotten me thinking; what about the halfies? Many times we’re either so dark we might as well be full blooded and embrace the color in our veins while pretending the whiteness doesn’t exist, or we’re so light people think we have it easier by default, that we somehow have more privilege than those of us a shade or two darker with the same 50/50 split. This particular painting is very literally a big F-You to those of you who say either one, because at the end of the day both of those statements imply erasure of a part of mixed race identity, each one a state of being mixed that comes with it a certain nuance that is not so simple as how dark or light we are. For a lot of us none of this shit even matters.

Butts Exist, Get Over It - Another fairly simple one, if a bit niche. Across the video game industry the topic of sexism has become one of particularly hot debate, with leading voices in modern day feminism weighing in on research that would suggest that video games promote sexism. Specifically, there is current buzz, it’s mostly dying now, about BUTTS. In other words, the most recent reason why ‘video games are sexist’ is because, supposedly females in video games have unneeded emphasis placed upon their posteriors, primarily in promotional material. However, there is no conclusive evidence that would even remotely suggest such a thing is the case, and all examples provided by so called ‘feminist gaming researchers’ have been not only contested by gamer developers themselves, but also by the millions of gamers, male and female, who are rather furious that their hobby is being attacked by people with a political agenda, who have very literally no idea what the hell they are talking about. Butts Exist, Get Over it.

Where’s The Fire? - Not much to say on this one. It is my final piece, but because of the way Tumblr posts photos and I want to keep things looking aesthetically pleasing (my paintings certainly aren’t) I’ll talk about it second to last. This on is probably the simplest one, and because it was the last painting it was meant to be what wrapped up my series. Where’s the Fire, no symbolic image, just a flame with Fire and a question mark inside it. Is the question mark on fire to symbolize a burning question? Or is it symbolic of how these days asking questions, digging too deep, or even just asking the wrong questions can get you burned down to nothing like we suddenly renamed the planet Salem? Nope. Where’s the fire? That is my question to people, because to me, it seems like the western world is obsessed with a lot of really small paper bags on fire at their doorstep, while the rest of the world is a smoldering dumpster fire sitting in the middle of a volcano, except those paper bags aren’t on fire, but they’re still filled with shit.

One Flag, Not One Mind - I am a bisexual woman, though really if it’s human, above the legal age and can tolerate me playing video games at ungodly hours of the night in order to combat my crippling depression, I’m open for it really. Point is, I am a member of the LGBTQ community, a proud member who has studied our history in this country and who is very, very aware of the struggles we have had to face, and the varying nuances of those struggles as they play off of race, and gender. To me, ‘united we stand, divided we fall’l has never been more applicable. However, it would appear that division occurs for even the most minor of slights against what is the status quo. For a community that prides itself on its sense of going against the grain it seems that those within the community that choose to do so are considered pariahs and all but excommunicated. We might have one flag, but we don’t have one mind.