#probably less because of my age and more because of the novelty of a black presidential candidate

[writing-in-april]

Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join):

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All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

[feather-dancer]

Since I got a yes, this is the first draft thus zero edits/running over of a section that was cut entirely from Stars chapter 2 when I was trying (And failing) to stop it growing legs that originally happened when Douxie was checking the post. It WILL be back in some form I just don’t know how presently since well how chapter 2 ended and all. This was going to be another hint about him given the Ace and Panromantic colours but in the end only the Non-Binary hints ended up in the final. Writing for you!

“Looks like that book hasn’t come in yet though today though probably a bit too optimistic, ugh that one has bill all over it so that can live in the ignored pile and oh I see something finally showed up!” A paw pushes glasses back down from where the muffin he was eating decided to relocate them to spy the sole padded envelope being torn open with a giddy grin. First to emerge is a piece of paper followed by two pins complete with matching backing cards proclaiming them as a Feathered Fancies product before proudly holding them up for the all-important cat inspection. Both are in the shape of incredibly stylised feathers though while one is striped with black, grey, white and purple the other brightly contrasts it in blue, green, orange and red.

“They were doing a special offer if you bought two so said I’d be a guinea pig for Zoe on the quality stakes since there wasn’t many reviews on their page yet. Devil is in the detail of course but at a first glance they’re looking pretty fantastic don’t you think?”

Hmning curiously the half-eaten snack is placed aside so that he may comfortably lean forward to give them both a cursory sniff before golden eyes flick to the delighted human.

“You do seem to be getting quite into buying these things though suppose it does make a change from your usual tastes in patches, far less skulls for one.” That gets a snort in response.

“See contrary to popular belief I do not have a single straight bone in my body and we live in a new-fangled age of cool merch being created so you’re supporting smaller artists to boot,” he opens the hoodie enough to reveal a black shirt with a large splash of a hand reaching up from flowers before a crescent moon and the words Non-Binary Necromancer. The irony even if it was wrong just made the design even more delightfully hilarious.

“Plus with this too I’ve finally got all three bases covered if in a small way lemme enjoy the novelty alright? Not that long ago even this would have been practically unheard of.”

“Fine, I can let you off but only if you donate some of that cream there to the worthy cause of my stomach,” he teases while a paw is waved in it’s general direction. While tucking the post and new prizes away a brow is raised in answer with a knowing smile.

“Driving a hard bargain as ever I see.”

The request is not denied however it is the offending paw that is smeared on because if he wanted it anywhere else he really should have specified resulting in grumbling about kids these days is laughed at while it’s being cleaned off.

Fun and games aside [[Putting everything away section starts.]]

The t-shirt is also very real! I’m also pretty sure I was lazy and didn’t put any formatting that was in the original doc onto discord go me. According to the date I moved this over on the 9th March and I’m still mad about it.

There was an argument about nail polish between Douxie and Zoe as well but that never made it out note format, it’s also in my list to stuff in somewhere.

This sketch should make a lot more sense now.

[maticide666]

my eurovision top 39 songs (finally)

anyway i finally got my top 39 completed. under a read more because it can get kinda long with the commentary i added klfdja;sflk (and by that i mean VERY long, maybe a wall of text if i have a lot to say about the song.)

none of this takes rehearsals into account.

basically, 39-37 i don't like, 36-35 are meh, 34-25 are decent, 24-18 are good, 17-12 i enjoy listening to a lot, 11-4 i love, and I would pay for votes for top 3 if i could.

39. Azerbaijan - Efendi - Mata Hari - Honestly, I kinda want to like this song. The instrumentation is nice, especially with the Azeri instruments. Efendi's vocals are ok during the verses. However, her vocals during the MA-MA-MA-MATA HARI part makes this song utterly unlistenable for me. It is just so distracting and ear-grating. Not great for my sensitive ears. And that is without taking anything else into account.

38. Estonia - Uku Suviste - The Lucky One - For some reason reminds me of a boring modern country song. Bland af. At least the melody of the chorus is nice.

37. Cyprus - Elena Tsagrinou - El Diablo - Discount Lady Gaga at the best points of this song. Feels like three songs at once. Also, the lyrics seem like they just went all "What Spanish-sounding words sound spicy? Taco? Tamale? Mamacita?" As a Spanish speaker and as someone of Mexican descent who enjoys those foods, this annoys the living shit out of me. At least I can make El Diablo/Fallen Angel memes out of this. (Honestly, I don't mind the gratuitous Spanish with the words El Diablo.) Also, this song got real old real quick.

36. Slovenia - Ana Soklič - Amen - The gospel vibe is nice, but there is just too much Christianity in it for me to enjoy this song. Sorry, Ana.

35. Moldova - Natalia Gordienko - Sugar - Sounds like a sugary version of Siren Song by MARUV. Kinda boring, but enjoyable in the right circumstances.

34. Georgia - Tornike Kipiani - You - Good to listen to when mind feels blank. At first I kinda liked this song, but nowadays this song has lost its charm. This won't sound out of place alongside boring 70s slow classic rock songs.

33. Austria - Vincent Bueno - Amen - Not something I would listen to regularly, but still nice. For me, easily the biggest downgrade from 2020.

32. Greece - Stefania - Last Dance - Pleasant to listen to, not much else.

31. Portugal - The Black Mamba - Love Is On My Side - Good song, but not my cup of tea. Unfortunately, some great songs have to be near the bottom of my ranking.

30. Germany - Jendrik - I Don't Feel Hate - A fun song to listen to. The novelty wears off after a while. The feel good vibes and ukulele are nice.

29. Israel - Eden Alene - Set Me Free - the song release version was bland and boring, but the revamp. Now THAT is good stuff. The song doesn't seem so empty anymore. I miss the key change from the original, though.

28. Spain - Blas Cantó - Voy A Quedarme - A very emotional and beautiful song from Spain. Again, not usually my cup of tea. However, the melody somehow gives me a nostalgic vibe.

27. North Macedonia - Vasil - Here I Stand - DAMN Vasil has a lovely voice. Nice that he's showing it off here. Too slow of a song for me to enjoy regularly, though.

26. Albania - Anxhela Peristeri - Karma - I don't have much to say other than this song is nice.

25. Bulgaria - VICTORIA - Growing Up Is Getting Old - Pleasant to listen to, but depending on my mood I think this is a beautiful song but not my cup of tea or a complete snoozefest.

24. Serbia - Hurricane - Loco Loco - Fun song, but it feels like something is lacking, and I can't quite put my finger on it.

23. San Marino - Senhit - Adrenalina - Once the initial hype from Flo Rida being on the song died down, this became another typical Eurovision bop.

22. Sweden - Tusse - Voices - At first I thought the song was completely unremarkable and couldn't understand how this won Melodifestivalen. Nowadays it's a nice song to chill to. I gotta respect a perfect televote score from the national final.

21. Ireland - Lesley Roy - MAPS - nice.

20. Croatia - Albina - Tick Tock - Grew on me slightly. Shoutout for including a verse in Croatian.

19. Switzerland - Gjon's Tears - Tout l'Univers - Another grower for me. Doesn't hit as hard as his song from last year, but I dig it.

18. France - Barbara Pravi - Voilà - Lovely chanson right here. I wish it didn't take forever to pick up, though. I was about to completely give up on this song in the middle of my first listen. I'm glad I didn't.

17. Belgium - Hooverphonic - The Wrong Place - Classy. Not much else to say.

16. Ukraine - Go-A - Shum - I'd definitely go rave to this song. I kept finding this song hard to rank due to the white voice. I couldn't decide if I absolutely adored it or if I found it grating. Maybe I just wasn't feeling well when I first thought about it.

15. Lithuania - The Roop - Discoteque - Lots of fun, doesn't have the charm that On Fire had last year. I would dance to this song.

14. Poland - RAFAŁ - The Ride - I actually kinda like this song???? Even with Rafal's vocals??? I know he has political controversies, but I can't help but think this song is nice. A better, less controversial singer would benefit this song, though. I'm not counting the revamp just yet since it was released too recently.

13. Latvia - Samanta Tīna - The Moon Is Rising - This song gives me nostalgic mid to late 2000s hip hop vibes. The guitars in this song are lovely.

12. Romania - ROXEN - Amnesia - Definitely something that can put me in a trance if I'm in the right mood.

11. Czechia - Benny Cristo - omaga - Nice, catchy, I would dance to this.

10. Malta - Destiny - Je Me Casse - Damn, Destiny has a lovely voice! And the song itself is wonderful. I'm not a fan of the amount of Swedish talent being used instead of Maltese talent, but I really do enjoy listening to this.

9. Denmark - Fyr og Flamme - Øve Os På Hinanden - another really fun song! This really grew on me. Nowadays if I want to listen to a Eurovision song, this is one of the first songs I think of.

8. The Netherlands - Jeangu Macrooy - Birth of a New Age - I can vibe with this. You can hear the passion in this song. I wish I could let my body do the talking right now, but y'all can't see that with just a tumblr text post.

7. Russia - Manizha - Russian Woman - I was NOT expecting this to come out of Russia when it won the national final. I wasn't expecting to like this either. The message is great, the instrumental is great, everything about this is brilliant.

6. United Kingdom - James Newman - Embers - A funky song. I LOVE James's voice. Massive upgrade from last year in my opinion. I'm a sucker for brass in an upbeat song. Unfortunately, I have had the staging kinda spoiled and I am VERY skeptical about this coming out of bottom five. I'm done with the BBC.

5. Australia - Montaigne - Technicolour - There is a Lot happening in this song and I am all in for it. I'm kinda terrible at parsing lyrics, but it's a non-issue when I can follow Montaigne's voice and forget about the lyrics. Ironically enough, it's Montaigne's voice that also worries me this Eurovision season - mostly whether she was able to pull off her live on tape performance off.

4. Iceland - Daði og Gagnamagnið - 10 Years - I didn't think Daði could pull it off against this year, but he did it. I like this just a little more than Think About Things, which was my favorite song last year. I'm still a little gutted that this pandemic robbed him of a probable victory, but I've made peace with it. I still need to learn the dance moves, though.

3. Italy - Måneskin - Zitti E Buoni - FUCK YEAH A KICKASS ROCK SONG IN EUROVISION! This song gave me massive rock en español vibes on my fist listen, and honestly this is something I would bang my head to if I had the same body I did when I was 15.

2. Norway - TIX - Fallen Angel - I was not expecting to like this song much, let alone becoming THIS obsessed with TIX. In fact, he wasn't even on my radar for winning MGP. I listened to Ut Av Mørket for the first time and thought something like 'this is boring af, but at least it's in Norwegian'. And then he changed it to English, which I wasn't a fan of at first. And then one day the lyrics clicked - especially with my own struggles with mental illness. To this day this is one of only two Eurovision songs to actually make me cry. Even now he still isn't my MGP winner (that honor goes to JORN), but he has definitely won my heart.

1. Finland - Blind Channel - Dark Side - To say that this song kicks ass would be an understatement for me. This song has just the right mix of rock, pop, and even metal. Ever since I found out that this song would be in the national final, I knew that it would be my favorite this whole Eurovision season regardless of who won UMK. Yes, my jaw dropped when I saw the lead Blind Channel had in UMK. I literally cancelled my plans to watch the MGP final live because of these guys. I am not disappointed. Even Måneskin couldn't bring these guys down in my ranking. And while the lyrics might be a bit iffy, they did get me through rough times. I hope these guys are able to bring rock music back like they want to. But for now, I will give them my (useless tbh) douze points.

[avenger-hawk]

Tagged by @altraes (thank you, it was fun to do this~)

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

                                                       *

(I wrote the first paragraphs because my first lines alone don’t make much sense lol)

1- ACQUIESCENCE (Minato/Itachi) my first fic ever. darkish but just a little, angsty. I’m proud of it cause another author wrote a sequel to it.

 to ac·qui·esce: to accept, agree, or allow something to happen by staying silent or by not arguing. A flurry of leaves, swept away by the autumn wind, caught the Hokage's attention while he took off his large hat. That time of the year should have been warmer.

2- THE WILL OF FIRE (Shiita, Danzo/Shisui, Danzo/Itachi) This was dark and shiita fans didn’t like it lol.

 Just like his owner, Danzo's studio was dark and dusty. The man didn't look as old as Hiruzen, but he was twice as scary; thus would think a boy of Itachi's age. Not him. He was not allowed to be afraid.

3- WHAT HE WANTED (Itasasu) Even tho I rewrote it cause I didn’t like how I initially characterized them and their dynamics this is my most popular fic. Maybe because it’s a post-ending, canon divergent, fix-it kind of story. Maybe because it’s Itasasu and I put so much love into writing their dynamics and, also, in giving Sasuke a good ending since canon didn’t do him justice.

Sasuke is where everybody wants him to be: in Konoha. With the battle and the arm he also lost the urge to fight. He's had enough of traveling. He's tired of chasing and being chased. So tired that even if he meant every word about starting a revolution, being the Hokage and build a new era, he had wondered, though only for a moment, if he would be able to really accomplish such tasks all by himself.

4- IN POWER WE ENTRUST THE LOVE ADVOCATED (Itasasu) THis is my second most popular fic. This one too was written after the ending and tried to give Sasuke justice. I planned to write a sequel but I got busy with other projects and lost interest in it.

The gates open, letting the shinobi in after a successfully completed mission. Being on duty the following day Sasuke declines his team mates' proposal to have dinner together, the reddish sunset light forcing him to squint as he walks towards the Hokage's office.

5- PRESSURE (Itasasu) Taken from In Power that can be read as a standalone oneshot.

Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.

6- IN DREAMS (Itasasu, Izuna/Sasuke, DARKFIC). This is one of the darkest things I wrote. The Izuna/Sasuke crackpair was for @admiral-izusasu. The plot, the dynamics, everything has a double, or triple reading, plot related and metaphorical for other, real-life issues such as knowing people online, and emotional abuse from narcissistic people. I wrote it when I was fighting against one of these psychos, on tumblr itself, so this fic has a personal meaning for me. But also the plot and the canon divergent ending thing is cool, I think it’s one of my best fics, even though I coulnd’t care less about izuna.

They say that nature will always find a way. After the end of the war flowers keep blooming like nothing happened even if the light is fainter, filtered from the tall branches of the Shinju tree, now grown into a forest spread all over the world.

7- SOMBER CREATION PALE DESTRUCTION (Madara/Sasuke dom/sub-ish). Darkish? Who knows, I write darkfish stuff all the time. I was (and am) very proud of this fic, the canon divergent turn it took (who am I kidding, it’s really cool lol) and the weird relationship/dynamics these 2 created. So I didn’t update it anymore, because doing so would break their thin balance. Ssssh, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense, I don’t believe you xD

History teaches that Madara Uchiha died at the hands of Hashirama Senju. Their statues were erected in the Valley Of The End where their battle was fought, where the shinobi god ended his best friend's life in order to protect the village they founded together. No one knows that Madara didn't die there.

8- IN THE DARK (kakashi/Sasuke, mob/Sasuke noncon). This is a very dark oneshot that I’m proud of, cause it ‘explains’ canon Sasuke personality in Shinden and later, and that I use as prequel for many fics, like WHW but also OFAF and Broken Things (see later for both).

Things never went as Sasuke wanted. After the war it's no different, although everything seems fine at first, Team 7 finally at peace with each other, the war ended and the village that Itachi protected, even as a dead man, safe. Nevertheless he is arrested when he's still in the hospital.

9- VICTIMS OF PEACE (Shisui/Sasuke dom/sub-ish) I am so proud of this fic, of its non massacre universe, of the dark-ish slow burn relationship between Shisui and Sasuke I wrote, tentatively at first cause no one did it or thought much about it, and because that non massacre filler was bad, but still it was inspiration. I know shiita fans hated me even more for this cause shisui is only paired with itachi, and also itachi/itasasu fans were disappointed but still. This is maybe the fic I’m most proud of.

If a traveler arrived from a random village in the Fire Country he would certainly notice how different Konoha was. He would not be able to pinpoint exactly why at first, because the buildings, houses and shops are similar, just like their gardens, fields and animals. Only after some thought he would understand that the difference is in their people: other villagers are relaxed and casual, even loud. Children run around the streets, chasing each other, playing tag or hide-and-seek. Their fathers bring them presents and their mothers buy them new clothes.

10- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS (DARK Narusasu) I received a lot of hate for this one, which makes me proud of it even more. so many naruto stans were butthurt by my characterization of him as a possessive not sunshine selfless boy and their dynamics as crazy.

Jiraiya used to complain that the first sign of getting old was waking up at night for no reason and not being able to fall back asleep. For Naruto, this only happened after the war.

11- BLACK ROSES (Itasasu, dom/sub-ish) Smutty Bloody Darky Hokage Itachi/Anbu Sasuke oneshot

Because of his farsighted politics, his loyalty towards his allies as well as his iron fist against his enemies, Itachi quickly became one of the most respected leaders in the shinobi world, and because of his unequaled diplomatic skills, along with his vast culture, impeccable manners and refined appearance, he became popular among nobles, including the Daimyo, whose official visits increased since the Uchiha rose to power.

12- NELL’IPOTESI GRANDE (=IN THE BIG HYPOTHESIS) (MetaMoro, not Naruto) I’m very proud of this one cause it’s a psycho-pass inspired longfic set in a retrofuturistic Italy with a totalitarian consumeristic regime. But that fandom is so shitty and they all hate me cause I called them homophobic fascists so no one cares. The excerpt is translated too.

He’s reminded of Pirandello’s* words as he’s riding the automatic taxi across the city, exiting the center towards EUR. COmpared to Milan with its skyscrapers, multilevel streets, automatic cars and incessant novelties, the capital is basically the same as it was portrayed in old illustrations: renaissance and 20th century buildings, seagulls, pines among the Roman ruins, sycamore trees on the Lungotevere, that was probably already busy with traffic when people travelled on horse carriages. (*an Italian writer)

13- DA UOMO A UOMO, MANO NELLA MANO (from man to man, hand in hand) (Metamoro) lol I was hated a lot for this one too. tbh the hate I received in the Naruto fandom is nothing compared to this other shitty fandom

For an artist like Fabrizio, mainly focused on expressing what he has inside, public relations are the hardest part of his job, especially when it’s about events where, instead of fans, of whom he perceives the sincere affection, other artists and professionals are invited. His experience taught him that most of them are hypocrites ready to jump on the winner’s bandwagon as quickly as to throw mud at the loser.

14- STRENGTH THROUGH WOUNDING (wip) (Obito/Sasuke, Obito/Itachi, dark.-ish) 

There is something nostalgic in the eerie way the boy's screams resonate through the dark cavern-like hideout, their pain bouncing from one curved wall to another, their anguish filling their crevices. It’s like hearing his past self from an external perspective, like Madara did. Which is fitting, for Obito is Madara now.

15- WORDS UNSAID (wip) (Kakashi/Sasuke) 

A black flame that cannot be extinguished: they had been warned about Amaterasu by Jiraiya, but seeing it was impressive nevertheless. The whole area was surrounded by black flames and the rain pouring hard could nothing against it. They found Sasuke there, surrounded, imprisoned by black flames that were extinguishing themselves, so they found a breach.

16- BLEEDING ME (Metamoro vampire/priest darkfic) No one can understand this in the Naruto fandom but it’s an AU interpretation of the Da UOMO A UOMO character dynamics where one is an emotional vampire-like person. I’m very proud of this fic tbh.

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby. It was a small, white building that didn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

17- WILD CHILD (Metamoro cop/drug dealer AU). At this point I hate that fandom so much but I like my ideas and I write only for my girl whom I met in that very shitty fandom.

Everything seems bigger in children’s eyes. Like the playground in the courtyard of the church, with its slides and swings that for Ermal’s siblings were the setting of countless imaginary adventures which they told him in detail, enthusiastically interrupting each other, when he picked them up after school.

18- TRUE COLORS (Itasasu, dark, dom/sub) By now I’m only interested in writing dark IS and I enjoyed writing this one lol

"I knew you had it in you. You're a sadistic control freak. Even more than me." Orochimaru's voice resounded in Itachi's ears. Again.

19- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS 2: TO REPAIR WITH GOLD (Dark Narusasu). Cause I didn’t piss off NS fans enough I guess? lol this is ongoing and I like this idea so much

It's a rainy day in Konoha but no one seems to notice. Everyone is focused on the Hokage delivering his eulogy.

20- BROKEN THINGS (Shisui/Sasuke) My latest creation, I’m so proud of it cause it’s Shisasu again, my rarepair! and it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got longer because they have such a cool dynamic that things just happen and get longer.

In the Land of Water summers were hot and damp, autumn and spring were damp for the frequent rains and winter was no less, with its cold temperature and ubiquitous dampness. It wasn't a problem for Sasuke though.

                                                                       *

Tagging: @renamon15 and all the other authors I can’t remember right now and who want to do this, tag me back so I can read your first lines lol

[nadiaportia]

Tarántula

Summary: The new Devil receives a visit from someone from a life that feels like it ended an eternity ago.

Word count: ~4,5k

Because I am a sucker for the reversed routes, of course Lucio’s reversed ending gave me fuel to write down something that could happen at the end of my (still-ongoing) route rewrite. As if this part of a reversed route, it will featured a Devil!MC so if that’s not up your alley, keep on scrolling.

To all others, enjoy 💓

The Devil, or rather the part of the Devil deep down that was still Ximena Rubalcaba y Saavedra, felt the presence of a familiar spirit before being alerted by one of the Wayward Souls of a foreign - a human - soul in its mistress’ realm. 

She turned her attention from her pondering on how to proceed with the Prakran resistance led by former Countess, now again Princess, Nadia Satrinava and her sisters when she remembered a face, slender, unblemished light brown skin, a charming smile with impeccable white teeth, shimmering dark eyes, framed by wavy dark reddish-brown hair.

An impulse was sent to her from the guardian of her Gate.

Step aside, sentinel. Let our guest enter.

As you desire, Mistress.

It didn’t take much for the sound of footsteps to echo through the corridors of the otherwise silent Devil’s Castle, where no mortal soul but one dared to walk through. 

The clicking of heels on the floor came closer and when the door to the throne room opened, a slender figure entered, dressed in a red so dark a human would have probably mistaken it for black. Silver adorned their neck and shoulders and they took a good look at their surroundings before slowly walking closer to the throne.

“I don’t know what I expected… but it wasn’t this.”

It has been a very long time, or at least felt like one, since she last heard someone speak Calpacian, even as it was the lingua franca of the West, few of its native speakers travelled far these days and those that did were of too little importance to be worth watching.

“What are you doing here?”

Heloisa de Rubalcaba stopped as if it was the first time she had heard the voice; in a certain way, it had to be a novelty to her. Lucio had told the Devil that her voice sounded different than before - back when she had only been a weak and feeble mortal. Now it was steely, sharp and commanding. It wasn’t the voice of someone who could simply be disobeyed.

The glint in her visitor’s brown eyes was something that recalled vague emotions, of evenings spent in houses made of glass, of drinking wine in silver halls and sharp jokes at the expense of the unfortunate souls that hadn’t earned any respect yet.

“Is visiting my little sister a crime these days? Are these the rules of the Vesuvian Empire or of the Devil’s Realm?”

“Answer my question.”

The Devil observed Heloisa with a cool gaze.

She hadn’t changed much in the last three years since the Devil had last seen her, age barely left a mark on her as the years - or what was more likely, she was just exceptionally good at hiding it. Upon looking closely the crow’s feet around her eyes had spread a little further, and the lines on her face were concealed well… but not well enough for the Devil’s eyes. 

The Devil didn’t age; she still looked exactly the same as she did on the day the mortal that was before had been so very close to dying, had it not been for the Cold Heart that was now beating in her chest. 

There had been some modifications on her, yes, such as the grey patches of her hair that had turned a stark white and the light grey streaks were among her black curls. Then there were the cloven hooves, the horns that were now spouting from her head and what was surprisingly enough the most unsettling: the golden eyes with a black sclera. 

After some time of getting used to it the part of her that still clung onto her humanity as fiercely as a frightened child to its mother had accepted the changes as something natural that couldn’t be reversed anymore.

“It is very much the truth. How could I possibly have ulterior motives than simply stopping by for a simple ‘Hello’.”

“I mustn’t remind you how our last encounter ended.”

Heloisa pursed her lips.

“And here I thought your ascension to godhood would make you any less prone to bearing grudges! Some things never change. If you want an apology from me, you can have it, but I’m genuinely surprised to see you still care about that little stunt. After all, shouldn’t you be long above that? Above all mortal affairs from back then?”

The Devil gave her a bored look and put her arms on the rests to each side of her throne.

“You’re correct - I don’t have it within me to care about the past. Who showed you the way to my realm?”

Heloisa stepped closer, pretending to casually watch her long nails as she did so.

“A little bird came to me and chirped in front of my window, of ways to enter the magical realms. Now, that little bird had less than good intentions and probably believes I won’t return from my journey, but I intend on disappointing them. If they wouldn’t be a cold-hearted bastard who cares for none other than themselves, one might say they resent you for turning their relatively laissez-faire boss into minced goat meat.”

“Valdemar. A surprise that one such as you who prides herself on her cunning, would make a deal with a Demon.” There was a hint of amusement in the Devil’s voice. Heloisa scoffed.

“Oh please, of course I didn’t. They gave me what I wanted for free; it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re lurking somewhere here and hoping for some chaos to be unleashed.”

“Surely not. I would’ve noticed a presence like that once it enters my borders.”

Heloisa grinned. “Running a tight ship I see. I have a lot of respect for that. You really turned that shithole Vesuvia into a respectable city-state, even Nadia couldn’t accomplish this.” She paused. “Talking about Vesuvia… where’s whatshisname? Y’know, your guy… your personal warmonger? Plaything? Roué?”

“My husband is—” The Devil began but Heloisa broke into roaring laughter that pearled off the walls and rang through her ears. 

She had never liked that laugh a lot but now she felt as if it had desecrated something in her Castle.

“Your husband?” She said in between laughs. “Oh, you have got to be joking! Really, him? And you guys had a ceremony here? Who were your witnesses, the sentinel that led me to the castle?” She wiped a non-existent tear from the corner of her eye but was still grinning broadly. “Oh, how I wish you were lying but I can tell by your face it’s the sad truth. Well, not a surprise but still unwelcome.”

The Devil drummed onto the armrest of her throne with her long dark clawed fingers. Her voice was so sharp it could’ve cut through marble and she had an unamused quirk in her brow.

“...As I was saying, my husband is currently in Firent negotiating with the Papess about her terms of surrender. After that he will return to Prakra to finish this senseless siege. And his name is Lucio — treat him with the respect deserving of a powerful monarch.”

Heloisa scoffed. “What do you want to do, force me to like him?”

“Remember, you are only a guest because I’m allowing it.”

For a few heartbeats there was silence in the throne room. Then Heloisa clapped her hands.

“Anyway, my most earnest congratulations. I hope he makes you happy in whichever way, assuming you still are capable of such mortal emotions,” She shook her head, still smiling. “For fuck’s sake, first Bela, now you, I really am the eternal bachelorette among us. I don’t understand the sentiment of wanting to tie yourself to a person, especially if that person is — just stating a fact here — not on your level. Y’know, Ippolita tried to convince me a couple of times, especially during my house arrest, that we could run off together, take a ship at the port, sailing away into the sunset and never look ba—”

“Don’t waste my time with your personal affairs.” She remembered Ippolita — a skilled warrior, loyal servant to Grand General Esmerelda Rubalcaba and the only one among Heloisa’s many lovers who had remained by her side after years, but their relationship never something out in the open; a high-born noble and a simple foreign commoner who survived in the pits by becoming an assassin was simply not the ideal relationship to be in for someone of Heloisa’s status. “You’re not here just to chat, so get to the point.”

Heloisa regarded the Devil of whom she still thought wholly as her sister and cleared her throat.

“Fine. Since you mentioned Prakra and I happen to have,”, the corners of her mouth twitched, “heard of the difficulties your, ah, ‘husband’ has with securing a victory over the Satrinavas and their remaining hosts… I have a proposal to make.” 

The Devil leaned forward on steepled fingers. She had a suspicion as to where this could be going.

“Go on. I am listening.”

“Alright, so we know that dearest Nadia and her sisters are still holding the territory around and of the Star Lakes. The capital of Prakra not only is quite beautiful but also one of the strongest fortresses due to its location, which at the same time could become its undoing. But this isn’t about breaking through their defenses, with the Prakran Royal Fleet scourging the waters an attack from your troops is virtually impossible unless you happen to bring ships or heavy artillery with you… or are currently building them.”

The Devil scoffed in annoyance. Of course she knew why exactly the situation at the Star Lakes was so bothersome, easy on the surface, nasty underneath it. 

Whenever Lucio returned from Prakra to her, he was particularly agitated and prone to irritation, at times ranting to her extensively about everything that was going wrong in this particular campaign. 

Her own frustration came mostly from having actual trouble with getting past the magical and alchemical defenses, and she knew exactly why. The amount of times the Devil had cursed the name of Sayelle bint Zahir were too many to be counted at this point, and what stung even deeper that this came from someone who had been more than a simple ally to her in a previous life — a friend, maybe one of her best.

“It’s about breaking their spirits, their composure, y’know, engaging in a little bit of my preferred form of warfare: the psychological type,” Heloisa gave her a confident grin. “Your beau cannot get to the capital, but you need someone behind enemy lines who is able to get you insider knowledge or even,” her grin grew wider, “gain the Satrinavas’ trust.”

The Devil stared at Heloisa, then she chuckled. “Nadia will kill you on sight.” 

It was a futile plan, soaked in Heloisa’s hubris and plagued by underestimating how smart the Satrinavas were, how powerful a magician Sayelle was, how united the Prakrans as a whole were in their opposition to the Vesuvians.

“No, she won’t. We have a history.”

“Yes, the history of you wanting to merge the mortal and magical realms so the Devil could help you with getting rid of Esmerelda. That is exactly why she would not hear you out.” The Devil’s lips curved into a deep frown. It was near certain suicide.

“I mean, yes, that obviously happened as well but it’s basically common knowledge that they’re sitting ducks and as such desperately in need of help. I have aided Nadia once already, back when the Plague was running amok through Vesuvia. Even when I was helping the previous Devil I told her I would put in a good word for her. She is aware of that and my immense dislike for Lucio,” she paused and sneered, “... who by all means is my brother-in-law and family now. By the way, do you want me to tell that to the others, or would you rather be the bearer of good news at some point?”

The Devil ignored the last statement and sighed deeply. “They would take any help that is offered to them, that’s what you think. Even if this helping hand is attached to your body.”

“Of course. I am known for my generosity after all, and of course for my lack of interest in war — you can thank me for building that reputation for the last fourteen years after you made everything go tits up.” Her tone was joking but the edge to it spoke differently. There was a fire smoldering deep within Heloisa, and the Devil made sure to not forget about its existence.

“Besides… I wasn't the Information Minister for nothing — I know what people respond most easily, and given their situation this will be more than easy pickings. Give me a handful of people who hand out flyers, have someone convince the Prakrans that if they surrender the bloodshed will stop, and you have basically won. ‘Thank you so much for your wisdom, Heloisa, most beloved of my sisters!’ ‘You’re more than welcome, Ximena.’” 

The Devil didn’t reply like this. Instead she said, “I will stop the bloodshed as soon as Queen Nasrin surrenders. I wish to have Nafizah and especially Nadia as allies, not enemies. It is a shame indeed things came to be this way but there is a future for the Vesuvian-Prakran relations.”

Heloisa’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Even after you led an unprovoked war against them? I don’t mean to rain on that parade you have surely already planned all the way through, but if Nadia intends to fight until the very end… I don’t think a surrender is an option. Better to install a new Prakran ruler, one who is sympathetic to Vesuvia.”

The Devil considered her words and found herself agreeing with them begrudgingly. It was probably true; Nadia’s hatred for her, the perceived betrayal and the losses on her side weighed heavily but it was rather that she didn’t wish to take extreme measures against her. She was smart, politically adept, brave and a genuinely caring ruler - useful qualities to have in a human ally.

“No. Nadia will see reason, she has to.”

Heloisa rubbed her temples. “Do you want to her to adopt your way of seeing the world with a sword at her throat? Word of advice: that rarely works ever.”

The Devil scoffed. 

“But if you have a better strategy of how to beat the Satrinavas, I am all ears. If you’re worried about my safety,”, she put a hand over her heart, “which I would consider quite heartwarming, I wouldn’t even need to go by myself but for the sake of authenticity, it’d be for the worst — but don’t worry,” Heloisa winked, “I know how to take care of myself.”

There was something about blood relations that had always dimmed her perceptiveness as a mortal; it worked well enough on people in general given they had a rudimentary knowledge in magic, could be difficult if the subject had enough magical affinity and was near impossible on trained magicians and of course on residents of the magical realms. 

Now that she was more powerful, looking into the hearts and minds of the residents of the mortal realms came as easy to her as breathing came to them. That powerful magicians such as Sayelle or even Asra were able to hide themselves without great troubles was bothersome but barely a surprise. 

But Heloisa, who was about as magically adept as a houseplant, was a complete blank slate to her — she could sense her life force, her aura fitting for someone with a strong personality and much subdued her feelings, but what really mattered to her, the notion of her true intentions… It was like standing in front of a polished mirror.

It was forcing her to act according to knowledge of their time as sisters… something she would’ve preferred to avoid completely. 

The only person she allowed her humanity to resurface with was Lucio… and he was who he was.

“Hm. I will give the matter thought.” She leaned forwards. “Something tells me that this still isn’t all you’re here for.”

Heloisa let out a defeated dramatic sigh. “You caught me red-handed. That was only the first matter why I am here. Consider it an olive branch, a token of forgiveness and potential allyship between us, Ximenita.”

The nickname out of her mouth made the Devil frown. Not only was she the first human besides Lucio to laugh here but also the one to address her as… something so much lesser. He was allowed to do that, and no one else. 

For a moment, the Devil considered reminding Heloisa who exactly she was talking to, but she halted before she acted rashly. 

She had always been vindictive and resentful, never forgetting injury to her person of any sort. It would… be an easy way to let grievances fester, and at this very moment that was more than counterproductive.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Speak.”

“What are your plans for Calpacia, specifically? I wonder why the Army of the Vesuvian Empire isn’t already at our borders, demanding our surrender. Hjalle and Nevivon were the first to fall, then Zadith and Venterre and yet there are none of your men - because they are your men, I know that - are to be seen near Calpacia, or Karnassos for that matter because you know that if you attack Karnassos you will feel Calpacia’s wrath.”

Heloisa tilted her head and regarded her with an inquisitive look. The quirk in her eyebrow betrayed her though, it was meant to be a dig.

“Are you afraid of facing your past or simply too nostalgic to see us being destroyed?”

The Devil’s eyes widened but she bit down her fury. I have no reason to be scared of you.

“I do know that our magical defenses are strong, you know better than I how exactly the Guild worked but ever since it was overtaken by these zealots, the Court is counting themselves very lucky it is strong enough a pillar to not be swept to the side by them, in no small part due to our strengthening influence. If we weren’t there, you might have a very unpredictable enemy at your hands. But that doesn’t explain your lack of interest in us.”

Heloisa laughed, and the light sound pierced through the Devil’s ears. 

“Unless all of this hard work is meant for us. Is that the case?”

The Devil raised herself from her throne and looked at Heloisa down her nose. She let her take a look at the new ruler of this realm and how much she has changed.

“You give yourself too much credit. My vision is greater than seeing Cartagenth together with its repulsive ruling body and the Zaan burn to the ground.”

“Do tell me though what exactly your vision consists of; uniting the entire world under your Vesuvian Empire so no one steps out of line ever? This reminds me of the plan someone once wanted to hatch, I can’t for the life of me remember who had that idea but I remember a certain young woman being so utterly displeased with that she preferred exile to being around her vicious family.”

Heloisa’s smile was more a baring of teeth now than anything else.

“Where is she now? Does she still have the moral high ground? Does she still feel like a good person who is so much better than her sisters?”

The Devil ground her teeth. She felt her face and ears heat up and could only hope that the red lighting of the throne room worked in her benefit.

“If I had known that one day you’d be exactly what you tried to oppose back then, I would’ve laughed right in your face and told you to get fucked,” she sneered and gave her a look of pure contempt. “You got some nerve to throw us, your family, to the wolves without a second thought, and not twelve years later you are doing the exact same shit you hated us for ever since. How does it feel, knowing that at the end of the day, you’re just like us?”

The Devil closed her eyes. She wouldn’t let herself be provoked by Heloisa, after all she was so very wrong with everything she was saying.

“All of this business with the previous Devil happened because the construction of the realms was fundamentally flawed. I intend on setting things right for once and all under one ruler so that it will not happen again. How I go about that is not of importance to you.”

“It sure as hell is, after all I have a place in this world as well!,” Heloisa exclaimed. In her agitation she stood only ten feet away from her, too close of the Devil’s liking. 

 “You replaced the Devil after allegedly saving the world from certain destruction and now that you settled, you decide to do just continue his work — except that you think of yourself in the right, as some sort of god-empress or whatever the fuck. But I will tell what you are: you’re just as rotten, self-serving and power-hungry as us,” She laughed, humourless and cold. “No, you’re even worse because you’re also a self-righteous hypocritical piece of shit. You might be even worse than Esmé.”

“Don’t you ever compare me to Esmé!” 

The Devil’s voice cracked like a whip and rumbled louder than ever before. Her face was a furious grimace so terrifying Heloisa had to advert her eyes, eyes glowing, long hair billowing and floating around her, and feeling its mistress’ fury, the realm let lightning flash and thunder roar. 

And yet, Heloisa did little more than keep her eyes shut, her face away from the demonstration of absolute arcane power and stand planted on the spot, her delicate hands balled into tight fists and her body trembling, either out of fury or fear. 

The Devil took a deep breath through her nose, taking in the sulphur-stained air of her realm. As she continued breathing, her fury left her body and she felt the Cold Heart within her slow down its enraged pace.

“It’d be for the best if you leave right now. Don’t test my patience and don’t think of coming back. You’re not welcome in this Realm for as long as I have the say in here.”

Heloisa turned to look at the Devil, tears dwelling in her eyes and a very faint but visible enough drop of blood trailing out of her nose. She dabbed at it, grimaced at its sight and wiped it off with the back of her hand. 

“Before I forcibly make you leave.”

“Give me two more minutes of your time; you haven’t listened to my actual proposal. Then I’m gone, unless you want me to come back afterwards.” She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure.

There was nothing more the Devil wanted to do than throw her back into the mortal realms and hopefully into the deepest and darkest pit that could be found there. But she gave Heloisa de Rubalcaba a small nod. Two minutes, nothing more.

“I sympathize with your course of actions, I really do. If I were you, I personally would have rained fire, brimstone and bloody vengeance on Calpacia, everyone who had wronged me and especially Tía Esmé, both out of spite and to rid the world of her, and in the aftermath leave nothing behind but scorched and salted earth. But this is my nature, not yours. That’s why I’m giving you an alternative course of action.”

She hesitated but then approached the throne over the steps. 

“I have many allies at the Court, I’m in the Zaan Saturnino’s favour, Cibela has been just a few steps away from open rebellion against Tía Esmé and to be frank, everyone is tired of the current situation. On paper you are disowned and exiled but in reality and despite everything, you are still Ximena de Rubalcaba, third in the line of succession of the title, and the Court knows that. There are people who would give you actual loyalty for who you are, not because they were forced to kiss the ring on a foreign conqueror’s hand.” With each step Heloisa seemed to gain confidence, until she stood just three feet in front of the throne.

Ximena had almost forgotten how small she was able to look.

“Let me be your agent in Cartagenth and I will give you our home as a gift of reconciliation and a token of my loyalty for you.”

She sighed. The Devil didn’t react, and was careful not to. This is a trick.

“What about the part of me being a ‘self-righteous hypocritical piece of shit’? Are these the words of a loyal vassal?”

Heloisa scoffed and a nervous smile played around her lips. “Of course not; they’re sisterly advice. If you can’t stomach honesty, then that’s your business. If you want to pay me back, come up with an insult on your own though.”

“Why reconciliation?”

Heloisa blinked at the question. “Because,” she began slowly. “I was hoping…” She fidgeted with her fingers, something she never did because a Rubalcaba never showed uncertainty to anyone.

“I thought it would be nice if there was a chance that we could be… sisters once again.”

Something within the Devil stirred and she frowned.

“That is a bridge burned a long time ago,” she stated quietly. It had been for the best, for her own best.

“It doesn’t need to. I can only imagine how lonely you are - because I have been too. Don’t you think I missed having you around? Someone in this pit of vipers that is Cartagenth I can trust in, not solely bound by blood but by genuine familial love and despite our differences.”

The Devil tried to find any hint of a lie in Heloisa’s eyes, eyes that looked so much like hers back when she was a mortal, and there was… nothing. No deception, no falsehoods, but a definite truth.

“I wish to help you, dearest Xime. I understand why you might seek havoc and destruction, the gods know that lashing out at this world and all its obstacles is something I have always done in my own way, but I want to make things easier for you. I know you wish to convince your enemies to become allies before anything and that waging a war of conquest is not your ideal vision… so I’m sparing you any guilt you might have over more shed blood that didn’t need to be spilled.”

She sighed. “I will be leaving for Prakra within the next few days, whether you want me to or not, with a small entourage. I will find a way to contact the Vesuvians or you once I am in the Satrinava castle.”

“I have not yet accepted your proposal.”

“Oh, I don’t need you to. Consider it a show of good faith.” She reached out, with her brows furrowed and gently touched her shoulder. The Devil remained where she was, showing no reaction to the first skin contact with another human who wasn’t her lover in years.

“Until then, sweet sister.” Heloisa leaned forwards, her perfume smelt of almond, bergamot, coffee and lemon. She pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek and the moment her soft lips made contact, it was as if a small shock of magic burned her skin. 

She was the Devil and this burning fire within her that was the yearning for a humanity that had once been bothered her. It could make her vulnerable, allow others to deceive her.

It was not something she could allow to persist within her. 

[erazonpo3]

Thinking a little bit about Best Girl Nuru and the way she’s often given the role of the Voice of Reason, aka the one with the brain cell, and I’ve spoken a bit about this with @bestworstcase where uh, we gotta remember that taking the only girl of the group, who is the second youngest, and making her the Mature one raises a lot of red flags. (The fact that she is Black is also something that should not be ignored because young Black girls are often treated as though they are older than they are, but rather than a white woman telling you this you can learn more about that through this article with links to said study). 

There’s simultaneously a lot and yet very little that can be inferred about her character given the small amount of original notes she has, and I could go for a more specific reading based on her circumstances but ultimately I’m gonna go for a more broad take of Responsible Characters And You: How to give them flaws that make them feel more like a real person rather than just The Straight Man. 

This is hardly an exhaustive list but I went with the biggest five points I could think of in order to expand on them, but the list can go on and grow more specific. 

Being the ‘Mom Friend’ at your own expense 

This one is probably the biggest one I associate with Nuru, and I think it’d hit particularly hard given her specific situation of being the only girl in the group and also the second-youngest. Let me tell you, straight from personal experience: being the Voice of Reason to a group of teenage boys is like trying to tell a wall to sprout legs and walk around. It’s not gonna happen and you’re just going to tire yourself out. My friends were smart, lovely people but I needed to learn that it wasn’t my job to protect them from themselves. 

It’s normal for a friend group to have ‘the one with the brain cell’ or ‘the mom friend’, but that friend group shouldn’t rely on that person to be their only source of support, or expect them to constantly monitor their decisions. It’s unhealthy for all people involved. You need to be willing to let people make their own mistakes, and not hold it against them when they don’t take your advice. You need to see your friends as independent people who understand their own decisions, and although it can be tricky to balance being supportive while also not encouraging bad decisions, it’s important to figure out. 

The Mom Friend is also often someone who habitually offers emotional support and advice, but keeps their own issues bottled up. They could have more healthy outlets for their personal issues, like a therapist, but this kind of stereotype usually pops up in people who prefer to deal with other people’s problems in order to avoid dealing with their own. Either way, it’s important for this kind of emotional support to be a two-way street, and for friends to recognise that they shouldn’t be relying on just one person for all their help.

Healthy friend groups can navigate this by ensuring everyone can share what they’re struggling with, and by having everyone able to provide some amount of support, whether it’s advice or condolences or just listening; this way it doesn’t fall on just one person to be the therapist or the mom. 

‘Intellectually’ mature but Emotionally immature

So, let’s be straight up: ‘responsible’ kids are usually just kids who respect the authority figures/institutions in their lives, either because they thrive in academic environments or because they have a lot of anxiety about upsetting those figures (or any other reason), but it doesn’t actually say much about their maturity as a person. It’s very easy for a smart kid to fall into the idea that they’re responsible and mature because the adults around them trust them not to cause trouble, but at the same time they can be very behind peers their age in terms of emotional development. 

I’m doing a lot of generalising here to spare us a larger essay about the faults of the education system for both gifted and forgotten ‘troublemaking’ kids, but the idea is that your responsible kid might feel as thought they’re the pinnacle of maturity compared to some of their peers, while at the same time do things like hold petty grudges, give their friends ultimatums, make decisions out of spite and have a general lack of consideration for people they might otherwise care about. These are flaws anyone can have, but it’s a very good way to show that being the smart, responsible kid does not mean you have emotional maturity. 

Circling back to our example character Nuru, we could take her suspicion over Hugo as something she believes is insightful and cynical (mature), but the others see as a grudge and an inability to trust others’ judgement. 

Straight up Immature

Yeah, they’re mature for their age. But that doesn’t mean they’re not still young and inexperienced. Maybe they do have more emotional intelligence and social skills than their peers, but that doesn’t automatically spare them from being gullible, making uninformed decisions, and much worse: being preyed on by people who would take advantage of them.

That last one’s a pretty dark path to take and you’ve got to be ready to deal with that issue from top to bottom if you’re going to go that route, but otherwise the message behind this one is simple: Kids are Kids and they can enjoy juvenile things, where the novelty hasn’t worn off yet, and they can make mistakes simply because they haven’t ever made that mistake before in order to learn from it. 

If your character is under 18, or even if they’re over, they’re allowed to be uninformed and say or do things that hurt others because they don’t understand the implications, and they’re allowed to be a little obnoxious or uncritical of what’s going on around them. Kids be kids. 

Obsession and an inability to see the bigger picture

Following the earlier example, ‘reasonable’ characters are probably people who rely a lot on logical thought processes to make certain decisions. (Note that Logical  =/= Correct or even Sensible, it just needs to abide by whatever the person’s internal rulebook is). That kind of mindset can lead people down rabbitholes and lead to conclusions that only they see, because they’ve jumped through so many mental hoops to reach their destination that nobody else can see how they might have arrived there. 

The expression here is “Can’t see the forest through the trees”, where a person misses the bigger picture of the situation because they’re so deep in the details they can’t see what’s going on. You see it a lot with puzzles that are fairly straightforward that people try to overthink and search for clues because ‘it can’t be that obvious’ when it really is. Thinking twice about something isn’t bad, but sometimes a first impression is the right one too. 

I can definitely see this applying to Nuru, star-chart master, and particularly in conflict with Yong- she has a great eye for detail that often comes in handy! But sometimes keeping your eye on a single star will blind you to their constellations. (Also for a more advanced reading, as a Princess Nuru might be less likely to see institutional problems compared to someone like Hugo). 

Selfish and Privileged perspectives

Keep in mind that prioritising yourself and your own health doesn’t make you a bad person, and being selfish doesn’t mean you lack empathy- it’s just a character flaw that means you have to actively think about other people and how your actions/inaction might affect them. A lot of people, especially ones who are raised in privileged positions, aren’t used to factoring in other people when it comes to making decisions. It comes down to “how will X thing affect me?” and they go from there, without thinking about how X affects others. 

This can be paired with socio-economic privilege, in which people who enjoy the benefits of a particular social system don’t pay much attention to how it fails others, or perhaps they know and make excuses that relieve them of any guilt (or maybe they don’t really care at all, so long as they’re winning). The remedy to this is education, and learning from the people who are disadvantaged the way in which certain social systems fail them and ways in which they can be improved. It also means committing to those improvements, even if they may come at your expense. 

In regards to Nuru being a Princess, there’s definitely a lot to unpack. I imagine her kingdom isn’t very wealthy (relatively- they’re far from destitute), given that it spends all its money on rebuilding infrastructure and apparently doesn’t have the resources to send a bodyguard or even a LIW along with Nuru on her journey. Nonetheless I think her position of privilege is a good place to start if you want to give her some sweet flaws

a few more ideas I won’t expand much on

Jealousy (ties in with Emotional Immaturity)

Overly Risk-Averse (The man who sleeps with a hatchet is a fool every night but one, but his friends still think he’s a fool most nights. Ouch.)

Insecurity (Do they have doubts? Of course they do.) 

Overly Emotional (Not always a flaw, but can impact their judgement)

Just straight up bad with emotions (Maybe they have trouble empathising with others?)

[sistersblack]

okay something went wrong with the draft but @ the anon who sent me this, here’s the answer skfhbd

ahh sorry this sat in my ask for a few days, but i’m glad you liked them!! i love thinking about them fjdks

for eileen in general, i’ve been playing around with a prequel to my bang fic that focuses on eileen and how she ends up in cokeworth, but who knows if that’ll ever happen, so have some bullet points instead (tw for allusions to family violence)

she’s a pureblood (it seems odd to me that teenage severus would take pride in calling himself ‘the half-blood prince’ if he came from a half-blood prince) but the prince family isn’t in the same realm as, say, the malfoys or blacks. i like the idea that they aren’t originally english (i usually go for slavic; am also partial to romani).

i tend to picture her with a distant mother (possibly died young) and an overbearing father. i can imagine her father wanting to ~better the family’s status & perhaps pushing for her to marry a Respectable Pureblood (for all the good it does him). i always, for some reason, picture her father’s name as atticus????

probably obvious that i think she was at school with key players in both wars (minerva, abraxas, possibly tom riddle himself) though whether they were close in age changes from concept to concept.

i don’t think she left the wizarding world immediately. her and abraxas are estimated to have been born around the same time, and bc of the age difference between severus & lucius, i think she was around for four or five years post-school. my hc for what she’s doing during that time also tends to jump around a bit, but i love the idea that she was powerful in some way and sought after because of it (maybe potions? curses? occlumency/legilimency? something she passed to her son?)

either way, i’d say she’s around long enough to (1) notice the war brewing & (2) become disillusioned with it. in general i picture eileen as world-weary and apathetic. i think she cares more about self-preservation than the so-called Greater Good and doesn’t quite understand her son’s extremes (either of them).

she hates albus dumbledore. has hated albus dumbledore since she was a student. after severus’ time as a student, she will 10/10 strangle albus dumbledore with her bare hands if ever in the same room as him. (this only worsens in the au where she’s alive for the second war.)

she meets tobias by chance. it’s a whirlwind romance, happens so quickly she can barely keep track of it. it’s refreshing, at first, to be with someone so detached from the wizarding world. she falls in love with the novelty of it.

the pregnancy is a surprise; she hadn’t meant for it to happen, and she doesn’t want to keep it, but tobias says there are rules about that sort of thing where he’s from, and so she reluctantly goes along with the wedding. (she’d been looking for a way out of the wizarding world, anyway. what better way than disgracing yourself and the family name in the eyes of all your acquaintances?)

she doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. being a good mother requires an effort she hadn’t anticipated, and often she’s too exhausted to give it. it’s not that she doesn’t try (she does, she loves her boy) it’s that it isn’t always easy, less so as tobias’ moods worsen.

she doesn’t tell tobias about her magical heritage until it’s too late to back out (post pregnancy/wedding). it’s the first real rift in their relationship.

when severus is old enough (and even when he’s not), she feeds him knowledge. not just to quell his curiosity, but also because sometimes it’s the only thing she’s got to offer.

severus learns the word mudblood from his mother. it’s spat in the heat of an argument following the first time tobias lays a hand on him.

she’s more of a natural witch. more brewing & wandless magic than wand-waving, both by preference but also as a result of living with tobias.

she regrets leaving the wizarding world and simultaneously does not want to go back.

she resents severus’ love for magic in a way that’s sort of inexplicable. she knows she shouldn’t: severus is young and curious and magic is his safe space, but there’s always something bitter that flashes when she sees his eyes light up at the mention of it. she can’t help but think all that hope is a stepping stone to disappointment.

her relationship with her son strains over time, especially as he falls deeper into death eater rhetoric.

aaaand these are all i can think of right now. i know i’ve got more but i’ve been doing uni work all day my brain is fried fjdksk

[fanyiyimdzs]

Mo Dao Zu Shi: Chapter 6

Masterpost

Previous chapter

Once the sky darkened further, it would be impossible to navigate the forest without a torch. Wei Wuxian continued for a while into the mountain but, surprisingly, encountered barely anyone. Did so many houses really decide to stay in Fojiao Village, arguing and playing armchair general instead of hunting? And had other houses, like the people he had met earlier, really reached their wits’ end and decided to return empty-handed?

Suddenly, cries of help echoed somewhere ahead of him.

“Someone! Please!”

“Rescue us!”

Some of the voices were men, some were women, but all had the panicked, helpless tone of people lost in the wild mountains. There was an eighty to ninety percent chance that this was the work of evil spirits, attempting to lead ignorant naifs into their traps. But Wei Wuxian was very pleased.

The eviler the better! He was only afraid that they wouldn’t be evil enough.

He slapped the donkey and rode toward the sounds’ origin. He saw nothing in any of the four directions, but when he looked upward, he discovered that there were, in fact, no monsters, demons, or ghosts, only the family of small time cultivators he had met near the rice paddies, who were now hanging from the trees in brilliant golden nets.

The middle aged man had originally brought his descendants with him to scout the area, but they didn’t encounter any of the prey they had expected. Instead, they had stepped in some rich person’s net, they didn’t know whose, and were captured and dangled from the tree branches, where they could only complain bitterly and wait for rescue. Sensing someone approaching, they were suddenly overjoyed, but when they saw the person was the lunatic, they immediately lost hope. The binding nets were made of very thin ropes but high quality material; thus, they held fast and didn’t break. Once they caught you, whether you were a god or a ghost or a demon, you had to struggle for a long time in order to break free. Only other, better spiritual tools could cut you out. The lunatic said he’d help them get down, but who knew if he even knew what he was dealing with.

Just as they were about to shout at him to find help, the sound of agile feet dashing over branches and leaves approached them. Through the black mountain forest swept a youth wearing a light, pale robe.

This young master had a vermillion mark between his eyebrows. His features were delicate and pretty, yet also harsh and unkind, and he was very young, around Lan Sizhui’s age. He was still half a child, but held a longbow in his hand, wore a quiver of arrows on his back, and a long sword which shined with golden light and glittered with gemstones. The embroidery on his clothes was as exquisite as any, uniting into a white peony over his chest, the golden threads slim glimmers in the night.

Wei Wuxian sighed and muttered, “Rich people!”

The boy was surely some young master from the Lanling Jin Clan. Only that clan used the white peony as its emblem, suggesting that their own beauty was comparable to the flower’s. The white peony was also the king of flowers, and thus through it, the Lanling Jin Clan also subtly advertised that it, too, was the king of cultivators. The vermillion mark on their foreheads represented “enlightenment and ideals illuminating the world.”

The young master had originally nocked an arrow on his bow, itching to shoot, but upon seeing that the binding nets contained only people, he was sorely disappointed. He whipped around suddenly, irritation written across his face. “Every single time it’s you idiots. There are over 400 binding nets hanging around this mountain and none of them have caught anything, but already you people have ruined nearly twenty of them!”

Wei Wuxian’s thoughts continued to be, “Rich people!”

A single binding net already cost more than a humble sum, but this boy had used four hundred in a single go. The price was enough to ruin a slightly smaller house—the boy was sure worthy of the name “Jin.” But this kind of abuse of binding nets to capture prey hardly counted as night-hunting, which meant their true purpose was to keep people away and give them no opportunity to take a share of the spoils. It seemed the cultivators who had withdrawn earlier had done so not because the prey was too tough, but because offending an old, illustrious house like House Jin was more trouble than it was worth.

After journeying freely for a few days and eavesdropping on interesting conversations in Fojiao Village, Wei Wuxian had heard more than a little of how the tides of fortune had turned in the world of cultivation these past few years. The Lanling Jin Clan had emerged as the primary winner of the period of chaotic clan warfare preceding his death, and now was the leader of all the clans and houses of cultivation—even their Clan Chief was now called Chief Cultivator. Prior to this, the Jin Clan had already possessed haughty airs and an inclination towards ostentatious displays of beauty and magnificence; since they had risen higher and higher these past few years, amassing even more wealth and power, their children had developed a tendency to run amuck. Even if the brats humiliated weaker houses, those houses could only swallow their anger and hold their tongues. These small village cultivators stood even less of a chance, so though this youth’s language was cutting and their faces were flushed red, the people hanging in the nets dared not bite back. 

The middle aged man calmly and respectfully said, “Please, Young Master, help us out and free us.”

The youth, impatient that his prey was taking so long to appear, vented his anger on the country bumpkins. Clenching his fist, he said, “How about you just hang here? That way you won’t randomly run around and get in my way! Once I’m done catching the soul-eating creature, I’ll cut you down if I still remember.”

If they were forced to hang here the whole night and whatever was prowling around Dafan Mountain happened to find them, they had no hope of getting away and their souls would be sucked dry. The round-faced girl who had given Wei Wuxian the apple became scared and started loudly crying. Wei Wuxian originally sat crossed-legged on the donkey’s back, but when the donkey heard her sobs, its long ears shook and it suddenly leapt up.

After it had leapt up, it let out a long bray, and if only the bray didn’t sound so ugly, to compare its relentless, heroic charge to that of a legendary steed would have been no exaggeration. Caught off-guard, Wei Wuxian was thrown off the donkey’s back and narrowly avoided cracking his head and bleeding all over his own face. The donkey looked forward, lowered its big head, and rushed straight at the youth, as though it firmly believed its skull could send him flying. But the youth’s arrow was still nocked, and he had just begun to pull back the bowstring. Wei Wuxian didn’t want to be forced to find a new mount so soon, so he repeatedly yanked on the donkey’s reins with all his strength. As the youth caught a glimpse of Wei Wuxian’s face, shock flew across his expression, which immediately melted into disdain. His lip curled. “Oh. It’s you.”

His voice was one fifth astonishment and four fifths revulsion. Hearing it, Wei Wuxian could only blink. The youth then said, “What, so once you were kicked back to your old home, you went insane? Look at how ghastly you’ve made yourself look. I can’t believe they had the guts to let you out and let other people see you!”

What ridiculous thing had he just heard?!

Was he really…?—Wei Wuxian slapped his thigh. Was Mo Xuanyu’s dad not some random, small-time house leader, but actually the renowned Jin Guangshan?!

Jin Guangshan had been the Lanling Jin Clan’s previous Clan Chief and had long since died. It was a long story. He had a highly celebrated and fearsome wife who was widely known to dominate his personality. But despite his fear of her, he couldn’t stay away from other women, and no matter how fearsome Lady Jin was, she couldn’t keep an eye fixed on him twenty four hours a day. Thus, on the surface, they were a fine and illustrious loving family, but behind the curtain, Jin Guangshan wandered the wilderness and the countryside, satiating his carnal lusts—as long as he could have a girl, he wouldn’t let her slip by. Moreover, because he so carelessly trampled around the grass, picking flowers and sowing his wild oats, he had acquired a herd of illegitimate children everywhere and in all directions. He was also extremely fickle, loved novelty, and hated habit. Once he became bored of a woman, he tossed all thought of her out of the window and did not feel a tingling of responsibility anywhere inside his head. 

Even his death was unseemly. Confident that though he was old, he was vigorous, and wanting to challenge himself, he decided to fool around with a whole flock of women simultaneously. But unfortunately, he lost his own challenge and died amidst the throes of passion. Of course, this was far too embarrassing for House Jin to let pass through their lips, and thus the Lanling Jin Clan reported to the rest of the world that their old Chief had worked himself too hard and died of exhaustion. Hence, a tacit understanding developed—all houses would act as though they didn’t know. In short, this was the true reason for Jin Guangshan’s “renown.”

After Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangshan had made the second biggest contribution to the Siege of the Burial Mounds. Now Wei Wuxian occupied his illegitimate son’s body, and it was hard to say who had ultimately come out ahead.

Noticing that Wei Wuxian had zoned out, the youth, filled with hatred, said, “Fuck off! Why haven’t you fucked off yet? Just looking at you makes me sick. Gay piece of shit.”

In terms of lineage, Mo Xuanyu was probably this youth’s uncle or something similar, a generation above him, yet the boy still tried to humiliate him. Wei Wuxian thought that he really had to return the humiliation, if not for himself, then at least for Mo Xuanyu’s body. He said, “Your mom may have had you, but she sure didn’t raise you.”

Immediately upon hearing these words, two rage-filled flames flashed within the youth’s eyes. He pulled a longsword from the sheath on his back and said menacingly, “You—what did you say?”

The blade shined with brilliant golden light—it was a rare, first-class weapon. Many houses could toil for an entire lifetime without touching a sword its equal. Scrutinizing it, Wei Wuxian found it looked unexpectedly familiar, though on the other hand, he had seen more than his fair share of golden-tipped swords. Consequently, he didn’t consider it further and instead began turning the small cloth pouch in his hand.

This was a “spirit-locking pouch,” which he had put together out of a few scrap materials he happened to pick up the past few days. The youth hacked at him, but he pulled out a small sheet of paper cut in the shape of a man, sidestepped the swing, and slapped it onto his opponent’s back.

The youth’s movements were very quick, but Wei Wuxian had a great deal of practice with things like tripping opponents and slapping paper seals on their backs—he was even faster. The center of the youth’s back went numb, then his entire back grew heavy, and then he had no option but to fall face first onto the ground, his sword clattering down beside him. However hard he tried, he couldn’t get back up, as though he were being crushed by Mt. Tai.1 A gluttonous dark spirit lied atop him, pressing down on him until he was gasping for breath. The little ghost, though weak, was more than enough to handle this kind of brat. Wei Wuxian picked up the boy’s sword, weighed it in his hands, and sliced through the binding nets above his head.

The members of the family looked quite pathetic as they dropped down. Without a word, they bolted. The round-faced young woman looked as though she wanted to thank him, but was yanked away by one of her seniors for fear that this Young Master Jin might come to bear a more bitter grudge against them if they spoke too much. The boy on the ground said angrily, “You gay piece of shit! You failed at developing your spiritual power, so now you’ve taken the evil way instead? You better watch out! Do you know who’s here today? Today, I…”

Wei Wuxian clasped his hands over his completely insincere heart. “Ah! I’m so scared!”

Though his old practices attracted widespread castigation and, over the long term, damaged the practitioner’s body and mind, they had rapid results and weren’t limited by innate skill or spiritual strength. Thus many were extremely tempted—there was never a lack of people who secretly craved shortcuts. This youth assumed that after Mo Xuanyu had been chased out of the Lanling Jin Clan, he had decided to walk the crooked path. It was a reasonable, fair suspicion, and allowed Wei Wuxian to avoid a lot of needless trouble.

Bracing himself against the ground, the boy tried and failed to crawl back up a few more times. His face now thoroughly red, he gritted his teeth and said, “If you don’t remove this curse I’ll tell my uncle! He’ll kill you!”

Finding this odd, Wei Wuxian said, “Why your uncle and not your dad? Who’s your uncle?”

Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him, grim, cold, and bitter like a wintry forest. “I’m his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

Upon hearing this sound, all of the blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to rush toward his head at once, then completely evacuate it shortly thereafter. It was fortunate that his face was already as white as death—if it got any whiter, no one would notice.

A young man sauntered towards him, clad in light, violet robes with hemmed in sleeves,2 his hand pressed against the pummel of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, but when he walked, Wei Wuxian couldn’t hear any ringing.

The young man’s apricot eyes were topped with slim, sleek brows and gave the impression of sharp, penetrating beauty. His gaze was heavy; a faint aggression burned beneath the surface, and to meet his eyes was to be struck by two cold bolts of lightning. He walked until he was ten paces from Wei Wuxian, then stood in silence, his expression like an arrow on a tight bowstring. A conceited arrogance emanated from his countenance as he waited.

Frowning, he said, “Jin Ling, how much time are you going to waste? Do you need me to go over there and invite you back? Look at your sorry state—why the hell haven’t you gotten back up!?”

Once the initial shock passed, Wei Wuxian’s conscious awareness rapidly returned. He curled his fingers inside his sleeves and recalled the paper man. Jin Ling, sensing the burden on his back lightening, immediately rolled, grabbed his sword, and scrambled up. In a flash, he was by Jiang Cheng’s side, pointing angrily at Wei Wuxian. “I’m going to break your legs!”

As he saw the uncle and the nephew standing side-by-side, Wei Wuxian could indeed make out some similarities in their features—in fact, they looked like brothers. Jiang Cheng gestured and the paper man escaped from Wei Wuxian’s grasp, flying into the Clan Chief’s hand. He glanced at it, spite burst in his eyes, and he clenched the paper between his fingers. A spurt of flame engulfed it, and the spirit inside screamed as it was burned to ashes.

Jiang Cheng said darkly, “Break his legs? Haven’t I told you that if you come across someone who practices these sinister things, you should just kill him and feed him to your dog?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t even remember to hold onto the donkey’s reins as he rapidly backed away. Originally, he had thought that, however much Jiang Cheng had despised him so many years ago, by now the Clan Chief’s hatred, like fog or smoke, should have been scattered by the winds of time. How could he have known forgiveness or even forgetfulness would hardly come at such a low price? Not only did Jiang Cheng’s hatred fail to dissipate, it had aged like wine, growing stronger and stronger as the years passed. He had started to take it out on any cultivator who imitated his despised former friend!

With someone behind him to protect and support him, Jin Ling swung his sword all the more viciously. Wei Wuxian’s fingers probed the entrance of the spirit-locking pouch. But just as he was about to take action, a flash of blue sword-light swept past him like lightning, clashing with Jin Ling’s blade, shattering the weapon’s golden rays in an instant.

The outcome did not result from a difference in the quality of the swords, but rather the vast disparity in the wielders’ strength. Wei Wuxian had originally timed his trick perfectly, but, unexpectedly thrown off step by the tip of a blade sailing past, stumbled and crashed into the ground right in front of a pair of snow white boots. He froze for some time before slowly lifting his head.

The first image that shined into his eye was the edge of a blade, glittering and translucent like ice. 

In the world of cultivation, this sword was very renowned. Wei Wuxian had learned of its might from countless fights, both shoulder to shoulder and face to face with its wielder. The hilt was forged out of silver with a secret technique known only to the smith. The blade was extremely thin and as clear as the purest crystal; icy air emanated from it like breath and iron parted before it as though it were no more than clay. The entire sword was graceful, agile, and awash in enchanted mist. But contrary to its light appearance, it was leadened with weight; an ordinary person was entirely unable to swing it.

—“Bichen��3 was its name.

The tip of the blade swung around, and a shing sounded above Wei Wuxian’s head as it returned to its scabbard. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng’s voice rang from far away. “I was wondering who it was, Second Master Lan.”

The pair of white boots circled past Wei Wuxian, neither hasty nor slow, then walked forward three steps. Wei Wuxian raised himself up. As he brushed past Young Master Lan, their gazes met briefly. Wei Wuxian pretended it was unintentional.

The young man’s whole body was draped in white silk that shined like moonlight. On his back he bore a seven-stringed guqin, which was uncommonly narrow and made of a soft, raven-feather black wood. A white, cloud-patterned ribbon was tied around his forehead, and his skin was fair and unblemished. Like polished jade, he was both extremely beautiful and extremely refined.

His eyes were very light, as if made of colored glaze, making his gaze appear cold and detached. His expression was tinged with frost and snow, and was solemn but not quite stiff. Though he saw Wei Wuxian’s ridiculous appearance, not a single reaction rippled across his placid face.

Not a single speck of dust soiled his appearance, nor was a single hair or thread out of place, nor did a single point in his countenance breech etiquette. Despite all of this, two words jumped into Wei Wuxian’s head:

“Mourning clothes!”

They really did look like mourning clothes. No matter how many people extravagantly praised the beauty of the Lan Clan’s uniforms, as though they were flowers floating on the breeze, and no matter Lan Wangji’s reputation as a man of peerless, once-in-a-century beauty, his appearance still resembled that of a widower nursing a deep, bitter hate.

The year was inauspicious, and enemies traveling along a narrow road were bound to meet. Blessings always came alone, but misfortunes, never unaccompanied.

Without uttering a word or glancing away, Lan Wangji stood face-to-face with Jiang Cheng, motionless. Jiang Cheng himself was an exceedingly handsome man, but compared to the one before him, his beauty was indeed somewhat inferior. Impatiently, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Hanguang Jun, you’re undoubtedly deserving of your fine reputation for ‘appearing where the chaos is,’ so how do you have the time to visit these old forests and mountains today?”

Elite cultivators like them normally disdained to take notice of low level prey, but Lan Wangji was an exception. He was never selective about what he hunted, and would never refuse to go after a monster or demon just because it wasn’t violent or fierce enough for killing it to improve his reputation. Ever since he was young, as long as someone requested help, he would come. Thus, “appearing where the chaos is” was the phrase everyone used to describe Hanguang Jun’s night-hunting habits, and a form of praise for his character.

Jiang Cheng’s tone was therefore remarkably rude. The flock of juniors who followed behind Lan Wangji, upon hearing the Clan Chief’s words, grew quite uncomfortable. Lan Jingyi, habitually blunt, said, “But isn’t Chief Jiang here too?”

Jiang Cheng replied coldly, “Tsk, when your seniors are talking, is it your place to interject? The Gusu Lan Clan boasts of having the utmost concern for etiquette, yet it teaches its disciples like this.”

 Appearing uninterested in arguing with him, Lan Wangji glanced at Lan Sizhui, indicating that the juniors should settle this among themselves. Stepping forward, the boy said to Jin Ling, “Young Master Jin, night-hunts have always been fair competitions between clans and houses, but you’ve hung up these nets everywhere around Dafan Mountain. It makes it difficult for other cultivators to navigate the forest for fear they’ll fall into a trap. Doesn’t this violate the rules?“

Jin Ling’s frosty expression was the exact same as his uncle’s. “They’re the ones who stepped into the net,” he said immediately. “It’s not my fault they were stupid. If you have a problem, wait until I finish catching my prey first. Then we can talk.”

Lan Wangji wrinkled his brow. Jin Ling was about to continue speaking, but suddenly found he could no longer open his mouth, nor could his throat produce any sound. Startled, he turned pale. Jiang Cheng looked at his nephew and saw that his lips were stuck together, inseparable by ordinary methods. His face began to grow red out of anger, and his words lost any veneer of politeness they had previously had. “You with the surname Lan! What do you mean by this? Jin Ling isn’t yours to discipline! Undo it!”

This silencing spell was used by the Lan Clan to punish disciples for making mistakes. Wei Wuxian himself had fallen victim to the trick on several occasions. Though it wasn’t a complicated, high-level spell, no one but members of House Lan could undo it. If someone forced their mouth open, either their lips would be shredded and start to bleed, or their throat would be mute for several days. Thus, the victim was forced to stay quiet, keep their mouth shut, and reflect on their shortcomings, until the entire period of punishment passed. Lan Sizhui said, “Chief Jiang, there’s no need to be angry. As long as he doesn’t try to break the spell by force, it will undo itself in twenty to thirty minutes.”4

Jiang Cheng was just about to open his mouth when a man in a violet Jiang Clan uniform bounded out of the forest, shouting, “Chief!” When he saw Lan Wangji, his face turned hesitant. Mockingly, Jiang Cheng said, “What’s the bad news you’re bringing to me this time? You may as well spit it out.”

The messenger said quietly, “Not long ago, a blue sword flew around and ruined the binding nets you set up, sir.”

Jiang Cheng glowered at Lan Wangji, the fury in his heart rapidly leaking into his expression. “How many?”

The messenger very carefully said, “…all of them…”

Over four hundred!

Jiang Cheng seethed.

He very much hadn’t expected this outing to be so wretched. Originally, he had come to help Jin Ling, who would turn fifteen this year and should be embarking on his career and competing with other juniors for experience and reputation. Jiang Cheng had carefully sifted through the options before choosing Dafan Mountain as their hunting grounds, and then covered the area with nets to scare off cultivators from other houses. Because the nets would make navigation very difficult, they would have no option but to leave, thus eliminating the competition and leaving the prey to Jin Ling. Though four hundred binding nets cost an exorbitant price, it wasn’t much to the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. The actual destruction of the nets was a small issue—the big issue was the loss of face. The fact that Lan Wangji had done such a thing made bitter resentment bleed from his heart and circulate up towards his head—the higher it got, the more resentful he became. He narrowed his eyes, and unconsciously or not, began stroking the ring around his right index finger with his left hand.

This was a dangerous motion.

Everyone knew that ring was a fierce, deadly weapon. Once the Chief of Clan Jiang began to touch it, he intended to kill.

__________________

Translation notes:

1 A mountain in northeast China, one of its “Five Great Mountains,” and an important religious and ceremonial site.

2 Literally “arrow sleeved,” a style of sleeve with a narrow wrist opening, unlike traditional hanfu sleeves.

3 Literally “to avoid dust.”

4 Literally “in the time it takes an incense stick to burn,” which is twenty to thirty minutes.

Next chapter

Masterpost

[cherry3point14]

Thunder Thighs

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Kinda cracky. You’re a bit of a perv. Stitching up an injury. Word Count: 3000ish. Summary/Prompt: You’re visiting your friend Jody when two flannel-clad brutes come storming in the door, both bleeding and needing help. You help the shorter one with stitches to his thigh. When Jody and Sam walk in to check on you guys, they were not expecting to find you like that! A/N: Guess who’s back, back again. By that I mean guess who’s back with a prompt by my girl @divadinag? That’s right, me! Basically, this is a trash fic with no discernable plot beyond holy shit DEAN HOT.

Ao3 if you prefer

As much as you hate doing the dishes, and that’s why you own a dishwasher, you’re still doing them. Jody cooked for you, saving you from the pseudo-food in your freezer. Plus your mom taught you that manners matter, especially if you’re the guest. It doesn’t help that Jody excused herself to the living room to take a call from the station.

Honestly, it’s her fault. She straight up left you alone with the dishes.

It’s not that bad anyway. Considering you never do your own it’s almost a novelty. The soap Jody has smells like a poor imitation of roses. It’s pink anyway. And the whole thing is keeping you entertained while she's busy. Idle hands are the devils' playthings and all that.

You’re humming to yourself since there’s no music. You’re offended by the lack of a radio or anything but Jody probably didn’t count on being gone this long. Or the fact that you’d start doing chores in her absence. She’s going to smack you upside the head when she gets back but the dishes will be done so you know she’ll be grateful too.

It’s a particularly stirring moment of the tuneless song you’re humming when the back door slams open, “Jody! Little help here!” Two hulking masses of flannel amble in with no consideration for the fact that they are total stranger dangers.

Obviously, you scream.

The noise begins shrill and high pitched. Like how you imagine Macaulay Culkin screams now that he’s come of age. Then it morphs into a roar of attack all without taking a breath.

Of the two men who have burst in unannounced and covered in blood, the taller one scrunches up his entire face. Dramatics aside you’d think the noise is causing more pain than whatever injury he has. The shorter one leans his friend against the wall and then raises his hands in a calming, defensive position, “sweetheart…”

You finally take in some air, by which time Jody has come running in guns blazing. But you’re not some defensive, wilting wallflower. You can look after yourself. You dip your hands into sink again hoping to find a knife or other sharp kitchen implement. What you yank out, dragging a trail of dirty, soapy water with it, is a metal potato masher. Determined to not die like this you do the only that seems reasonable since Jody hasn’t fired a shot yet.

You throw the damn thing.

It spins as it cuts through the air and hits the shorter man square in the face. Success. You’ve fended off your attacker, or at the very least softened him up. Now all you need is some butter and you’re in business.

“Shit!” He growls as he rubs the wet spot on his face while your weapon clatters to the floor.

“Y/N! Y/N! It’s fine.” Jody’s tucking her gun away and stepping between you and the potential murderers, before you attack again. “I know these dummies.”

She throws a pointed look in their direction as you finally feel your heartbeat calm enough to think rationally. “They didn’t knock.” It’s the most important thing your coherent mind wants to say. You’re not crazy, because it’s them who are uncivilized.

She smiles at you like you’re a child but her tone is clearly meant to chastise the lumberjacks behind her. “That’s right they didn’t knock because they were born in a frickin’ barn. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean.”

They’re both introduced together so there’s a solid minute where you’re still not sure which one is which. You only know that collectively they form a duo known as ‘Sam and Dean’. The taller one, all hair in his face, whichever one he is, seems to be struggling to stand straight. Although, considering his height the air might be that much thinner up there.

“Listen, Jody, we’re real sorry to barge in like this but Sam he’s-” it’s the shorter one talking, at least now you know which is which.

Jody takes one look at Sam and her friendly annoyance becomes motherly concern real quick.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” You watch your friend go across the room and eyeball Sam's blood-soaked undershirt. Dean, still watching you with annoyed suspicion in case of more flying utensils, pulls her in to whisper in hushed tones. She pushes him back with an elbow to the ribs, “what am I going to do with you two? Help me get him upstairs.”

“Jody what’s…” you start.

“Y/N I’m sorry maybe it’s best if you went on home?” She doesn’t outrightly say she’s throwing you out but it sure as hell sounds like she’s throwing you out.

Dean chooses then to grit his teeth at Sam’s weight back on his shoulders. You scan his body for the source of the pain and see a sizeable cut in his now red stained jeans.

“At least let me help him with that while you help… um, Sam.”

Dean looks about ready to argue but Jody catches your meaning and rolls her eyes. “So, you’re both hurt?” She sighs like they're both so exhausting although you can read the worry behind it.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Can you just patch up him please?”

“Sure, I’ll patch him up. While my nice doctor friend takes a look at you.”

Dean doesn’t argue but then Jody has that power over the majority of people she meets. Sheriff or not, she gets her way most of the time.

You follow behind them as Jody carries most of the weight but somehow they manage to get Sam moving. Between the three of them, it’s all limbs and sideways shuffles but they move him upstairs and out of sight.

Everything happened so quickly that the sudden silence of the room now that it’s empty is deafening. There’s scraping furniture and muffled yelling from above while you’re left there staring at your nails.

A minute later and Dean starts hobbling back down the stairs. Apparently, he’s forgotten you’re there because he’s grimacing with every step now that Jody and Sam are gone. It’s only halfway down that he notices you still standing in the middle of the living room and straightens his jaw. “I’m fine by the way."

“You sure look fine,” your arm stiffly points at the dining table. “Sit.”

He grumbles under his breath but still slumps into the chair, Jody and her superpower must be rubbing off on you.

You lean over and use careful, measured touches to peel the frayed denim away from the cut. You don’t normally deal with patients so you’re paying extra attention to the pressure of your fingers. Shooting for gentle. It still has to hurt though. The cut is deeper than it looks. “Dean right?”

“Yeah.” He grinds through clenched teeth.

You stand up swiftly. Quickly enough to give yourself headrush if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. “The jeans, lose ‘em”.

You don’t hang around to see his mouth twist in confusion. There’s a first aid kit under the sink, god knows what Jody is using upstairs. You know where it is because you’d been here a few months back when Claire cut her hand on something or other. Of course, she’d only needed a bandage at the time but you know it will have the tools you need now. In the past, you’ve never questioned why your friend has such a large at home medical kit. Now you’re guessing evenings like this are why.

When you wander back into the living room with the hefty plastic box in your arms you’re instantly irritated at the sight of Dean still clothed. “Do you need help taking those off?”

There’s a reason you don’t work in clinical or surgery, you have a shitty bedside manner. Though Dean, to his merit, seems to be riling you up extra fast.

“I don’t need to take these off.” For someone who looks like a male stripper he sure is being a brat about taking off his pants.

“That cut needs stitches and I need to see what I’m doing if I’m going to sew you up all pretty. Normally I’d cut them off but I’m guessing you want to be a big boy about this?”

He frowns petulantly, then sighs and finally starts working on his belt and fly. “Don’t get excited or anything sweetheart. This is strictly professional.” He’s trying to claw back some of whatever macho bravado he thinks he has.

“Don’t fall in love. Got it.” You quip back at him complete with a finger gun. It’s all fun and games anyway. That is until his pants drop.

The guy is handsome. That’s not a question. He’s an Adonis. You don’t need to dwell on the sharpness of his jaw, the emerald hue of his eyes or his lips that are the perfect mathematical curve for kissing the fuck out of.

But the guy almost murdered you tonight, in your mind at least. So, you’d made an effort to not let yourself be distracted by his face. You’d been doing well so far. You hadn’t looked at him much at all, even if you’d thought about it.

At least you hadn't looked until those pants dropped.

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes your throat tighten. Is it his black boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination? Probably. The guys got a third arm for crying out loud. And it’s so inappropriate that you’re even noticing but damn, those thighs. He's got those bowed legs, which are hot on a regular day, except Dean also has these thighs that are pure sin. Toned, muscled tree trunks that look like they could slam into you with all the force off…

He whistles, waves a hand to his face and lets a self-satisfied smirk settle on his lips. “I’m up here sweetheart.”

Oh god, you’d been staring. It wasn’t professional but then again your patients are usually a lot less chatty and a hell of a lot less handsome. No one is handsome when they’re dead. It’s not your fault. You’re at Jody’s. You hadn’t been prepared for this.

Somehow you have the gall to act affronted by his accusation, “and your gaping wound is down there genius. I’m a doctor for crying out loud.”

Good. He looks confused like he can’t decide if you’re a pervert or medical professional. The truth is a little of both. It’s hardly your fault that his cut goes all the way up his thigh to the edge of his underwear. Wait, what if it goes further? No. No, it can’t.

Once you open the first aid kit everything flows on autopilot and his dumb half-naked body fades into the background. You know this, it’s as easy as blinking. You sterilize the needle and lay everything out like you're at work. A latex glove gets pulled over each hand and you remind yourself to be careful since he’s still breathing.

"This is going to hurt," you warn him with alcohol in your hand.

“I’ll be fi- shit!” He’s so busy trying to be brave that he doesn’t brace himself for the sting as you clean the cut and blood drying on his skin. His fists clench at his sides but other than that he stays deadly still while you finish.

Then when you're ready to put Humpty Dumpty back together again you find yourself pausing to look down at his leg. You’re too high off the ground to do this without killing your back. You already know that there’s only one solution and as much as you don’t want to you slide to the floor. Resting your knees between his thigh gap, all the better to stitch him up.

Whatever he wants to say he holds in. Thankfully. If you’ve got to ignore being this close to his dick then the least he can do is keep his perfect mouth shut.

It’s a grueling silence at first. You’re not talking because you’re concentrating on how many stitches you want to make. He’s not talking, you imagine because it hurts. It's only after the first few stitches are tied that he’s used to the jab of the needle enough to speak.

“So, you’re a doctor huh? That how you met Jody?”

You’d shrug or laugh if your hands weren’t busy, “I mean, I’m a doctor but not a doctor doctor. We actually met over a dead body.”

He stiffens under your touch and you don’t think it’s because you hit a nerve. Unfortunately, it’s not an unusual reaction when you tell people about your line of work.

“I’m a pathologist. So, I deal exclusively in bodily fluids, specimens, and autopsies. I mean, I’m great at stitching things but my patients are normally pretty stiff.”

He laughs at you and the sound is refreshing. There are no questions about why you’d want to cut open a dead body or how you can stand to do it. “That why you don’t have the whole soothing doctor thing going on?”

“Exactly. I never was a soft touch and cadavers don’t talk back.”

You’re going faster now. He isn’t so tense under your fingers and you’re finding a rhythm.

“I can’t believe I’m nearly finished and you still haven't told me how you got this.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you darlin’”

God knows what it is about the way he says darling but it stops you from sinking the needle into him again, at least for a second. From your kneeling position between his legs, you can’t help but look up at him through your lashes. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you wonder if you're the only one who can taste your heartbeat.

“Try me.” You don’t even know what you mean when you say it. You don’t even know what you're offering.

Jody does.

“Y/N! Dean! What the hell?”

Jody is standing at the bottom of the stairs with a freshly sewn together Sam, who is better able to support himself on the banister. And they’re both wearing equally shocked looks. All raised eyebrows and open mouths. It’s only when you look up at Dean again and how the green of his eyes has all but disappeared that you understand.

No less than an hour ago Dean burst in as a stranger. Now you're on your knees in front of him while his jeans and belt sit around his ankles. And when you paused to stare into his eyes like a lovesick puppy you rested your hand on his uninjured thigh. Something you’re only noticing as the heat of him seeps into your fingers.

Yeah, you can understand what Jody thinks she's walked in on. You get what this looks like.

“It’s not what it… I just have one more stitch and then he’s free to go.”

Well, now it sounds like you’re the one who orchestrated all this. Like you’re keeping Dean here against his will. He doesn't seem to notice their entrance. Or care. He hasn’t stopped looking at you with this curl to his lips like he thinks the whole thing is so damn funny. He might be right. You’d see the funny side if it wasn’t you on your knees.

You tie and cut the last stitch with Sam and Jody whispering as your soundtrack. As soon as you’re done you jump up and pretend that you don't need to get away from the heat between his thighs. 

“I… erm. I need should wrap that up and you need to keep it dry for a few days.”

“Whatever you say doc.”

It’s not fair that he’s so comfortable now. You almost regret stitching him up. Now that Dean isn't in pain he's far more dangerous than when he was busting in the kitchen to kill you.

Jody’s helping Sam to the sofa even though he insists he’s fine and they’re both so there. But Dean's still looking at you like they don't exist.

You pick up the gauze intending to wrap his thigh and realize with him sitting this might be harder than it looks. “Um, can you…?” You point upwards to motion standing without thinking of the consequences.

You bend down again to wrap his thigh only realizing halfway through that because he’s standing you’re now eye level with his dick.

His barely concealed by his underwear dick.

You cut the gauze probably before you should and secure it so you can jump back again. The smile on Jody’s face definitely isn’t making you want to blush. It’s just a dick. Every second person has them. Or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Ok, you’re good to go.” You say loudly enough for the room while packing up the first aid kit.

He pulls up his still bloodstained, ripped jeans chuckling to himself, “thanks, doll. Hope I was a better patient than a dead body.”

“Debatable,” you glance at him out the corner of your eye.

He holds a hand to his chest dramatically, still staring at you, as Sam hauls himself up again. “Come on dude, we’ve still got to clean up that thing.”

Dean all but ignores Sam, once again focussing on you. “Right right. I should swing by and see you though? Get these stitches removed by a professional?”

Jody starts pushing Dean out the door, finally sick of them both, “if you wouldn’t mind not accosting my friends. Any more than you already have.”

“I’ll see you in a week! Doctors orders!” you call out from behind Jody. She closes the door giving you a look that’s half warning and half judgment.

You 100% don’t care.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

[clarissaartap]

Jeepneys by Manansala 1951 Enamel on fiberboard 51 cm x 59 cm

     Born on January 22, 1910 in Macabebe, Pampanga, Vincente Silva Manansala is an acclaimed Filipino painter and artist. In his youth, he considered his hobbies, kite-making and creating charcoal sketches on paper, as fun, temporary escapes from his labor-intensive jobs of being a newsboy and shoe shiner in Intramuros. At the age of 15, he found that his inclination to the arts brought him under the mentorship of Ramon Peralta to learn the fundamentals of painting at a sign and poster shop. A year after, he enrolled at the University of the Philippines School of Fine Arts. When he graduated in 1930, not only was he able to master the basics of oil-painting, but he was also able to merit a great deal of financial aid, scholarships, and grants from art establishments around the world due to the artistic prowess and prodigious creativity he displayed during his stay in the institution. Later in his career, he received multiple awards and held positions in esteemed local and international art establishments. 

   The education and training he took up in countries like France, Canada, the United States of America, and Germany, was reflected in his approach to his artworks, which were obviously products of international influence. It was refreshing in the local art scene at that time, which drew in a massive audience for his exhibits. Rapidly gaining popularity, Vicente’s eccentric aesthetic made him a pioneer of modernism of the arts in the Philippines. His style could be referred to as “transparent cubism,” which involves scattered facets of varying hues across the painting. His paintings created lasting impact to their audience, as his technique seamlessly blended geometry with expressionism, calculation with spontaneity. His genius as an artist transcends beyond his technical innovation, as the subject matter in his paintings, centered on the post-war urban experience, spoke to a new Filipino audience. The end of World War II sparked a type of social awareness that Vicente tastefully incorporated into his artistry. As he took inspiration from his immediate surroundings, Vicente’s paintings revolved around the life of the commoner. He took everyday scenes, objects, and places, like family gatherings, cockfights, native delicacies, the slums in the urbanized areas of the country, religious figures, and painted them in his slightly more westernized fashion that somehow made them iconically Filipino (Paras-Perez, 1980).

   Jeepneys is the title given by Vincente to his work. Based on the title, and the painting itself, the image he intended to create was the daily traffic congestion in the metropolis. Given that the jeepney is one of the most affordable means of transportation readily available to the masses, Vicente probably wanted to cement the theme of daily Filipino encounters as the core of his collection. This work was made in 1951, just six years after the war ended. It is known that jeepneys quickly surfaced as a makeshift, creative way in an effort to re-establish inexpensive public transportation, much of which had been destroyed during World War II. This was done by repurposing and decorating the surplus jeeps from American troops in order for it to be suitable to accommodate several passengers and look visually appealing, colorful, and eye-catching as it traveled on the road (Platino, 2014). The popularity and the history of the jeepney during that time may have also prompted Manansala to create this artwork. The painting is currently displayed in the Ateneo Art Gallery as a gift from Fernando Zobel. 

   Jeepneys is a painting done on a fiberboard using enamel. A wash of white and bright yellow was laid down first, before hasty, daubs of other colors in varying saturations, like orange, red, and brown were applied. The use of enamel on fiberboard allowed for the different-colored strokes to be semi-translucent and glassy without the need for tedious modification of the paint, permitting the yellow hue to penetrate through the secondary layer of pigments. This mimicked a filter of warmth throughout the piece and brought about a more cohesive color palette. The presence of the different colors also distinguish one entity in the painting from another, allowing for clarity of scenery despite the expressive style employed by Manansala. This clarity is also achieved through the use of actual, irregular, black lines that serve as outlines of the subjects in the painting. The inconsistency and coarseness of these lines give a sense of spontaneity to the piece. On top of these outlines, smudges of warm blues were added as accent colors to impart variety against the otherwise unified, chromatic value scale of only varying shades of red and yellow; this makes the painting more interesting and more captivating of the attention of its viewers. Slivers of white highlights also creep through the painting. 

   With the guidance of the chromatic value and the black outlines in the painting, I can identify many jeepneys and people as subjects, which makes me infer that the setting is an urbanized area, like Metro Manila. In the upper portion of the painting, I can see even more people, lined up, probably waiting for a ride to get where they want to be. I deduce that these are common Filipinos, patiently queuing for transportation to get home from work. The reds and yellows make me believe that it is sunset, or time for people to return to their homes after a day at their jobs. The primary colors of the painting may also signify the colors of the Philippine flag, in order to place emphasis on the Filipino origins of the jeepney, and on just how routine the scenario depicted in the painting is in the country. 

   Unlike the vast majority of Manansala’s works, this particular painting of his makes use of more organic shapes than geometric ones, a hallmark of his signature “transparent cubism” style. Similar to his other paintings, this painting is composed of superfluous shapes of different colors that contribute to an overall puzzle-like look. The distribution of these shapes and visual weight is more or less uniform across the entire work, which makes the painting balanced. The irregularity of the shapes, formed by both colors and lines, also evoke a touch of movement and life to the whole piece to be perceived by the viewer. There is also very minimal negative space in the painting; the fiberboard is saturated with different objects and characters. This gives the piece an disorganized rhythm which almost makes the conveyed scene feel chaotic to the viewer. The seemingly rough texture of the painting, probably achieved through the use of a fiberboard with grooves and indentations as its canvas, gives the painting a rustic, undone edge. There is also an absence of a defined vanishing point in the painting, which makes the elements appear very packed and arranged in a collage-like manner.

   In my opinion, all of these elements reinforce the mayhem and frenzy of the traffic scene in the painting. Manila is known for its notorious traffic; streets are rarely peaceful in the midst of the relentless honking of vehicles, the reckless attempts of drivers to beat a red light, and the rowdy crowds of people on the street desperately trying to find a good deal or any sort of transportation to get where they need to be. The dynamism and movement in this painting, that I was able to immerse myself in, was successful in transporting me into the legendary Manila traffic. Given that this painting was made just a few years after the end of World War II, the Philippines was eager to rebuild its economy that had suffered tremendously during the war. This could have led to more Filipinos joining the workforce, and the subsequent increase in the number of people that had to be on the road to earn a living. The work of Manansala, Jeepneys, through its elements and composition, has successfully communicated the essence of a bustling city, brimming with vitality just as it is with madness. 

   I have utmost respect for Filipino artists like Vincente Manansala, who use their acquired techniques from other parts of the world to help in the progress and development of their own country. Jeepneys, along with Manansala’s other paintings and illustrations, is a carving etched on the history of art in the Philippines, as he spearheaded the rise of modernism in the local field of art. Other artists like Mauro Malang Santos, Antonio Austria, Angelito Antonio, and Mario Parial have been inspired to experiment with their own distinct, unconventional styles in painting because of the contributions of Manansala. His artistry birthed a new generation of artists that embraced their personal aesthetics. Beyond his mastery of art, I commend him for the common thread of daily, purportedly hackneyed conventions in the lives of everyday Filipinos that is firmly woven throughout his series of paintings. He shows that the average Filipino is worth creating art for. An image of the traffic-bombarded roads of the city are just as enthralling as extravagant portraits of doñas and dons, paintings of picturesque views that only the upper class can afford to see in a lifetime, and illustrations of glamorous novelties. I believe that in a way, Manansala’s work was able to open the once inclusive, intimidating realm of art to other people who resonate with his work that captures the unfeigned, honest heart of the Filipino. 

   To me, this painting does not necessarily pass the classic standards of rhythm, harmony, balance, and proportion, as it does in fact look disarrayed at first glance, especially when I consider that Manansala did in fact intend for this painting to represent a scene of jeepneys. It might even be difficult for some to make sense of the painting at first. In spite of this, I cannot help but be in awe when I look at this painting, maybe because a sight that I am so familiar with, has been transformed into a expressive impasto of color, with details that take my gaze from one impressive fragment to another. The more I look at the painting, the more things I am able to find that make the work even more fascinating. I do find significant cultural value in this painting as well. The use of primary colors keeps the painting grounded in its Filipino roots, and it also allows for a more graphic projection that the jeepney is a mode of transportation unique to the Philippines. Its history of it being a product of Filipinos’ resourcefulness and resilience after the war makes it a cultural staple in the country. There is a deep heritage and origin to something deceivingly simple like a humble jeepney, like there is a hidden complexity and masked grandeur and to the everyday, seemingly mundane, themes of Manansala’s works. 

References:

Paras-Perez, R. (1980). Manansala. PLC Publications.

Platino, M. (2014). Philippine jeepney: World War II surplus vehicle that became a cultural icon. Retrieved from https://globalvoices.org/2014/04/20/philippine-jeepney-world-war-ii-surplus-vehicle-that-became-a-cultural-icon/

[justine-the-guillotine]

Hey there! I saw your post (about Mystic Code) on LucyDream's tumblr. Love how you're in your 30's but still playing otome games! I'm the same, but I'm in this world just recently. Can you make a list with your favorite visual novels and otome games? I love those ones with a more mature MC. I mean your can be cute/fun and still be sassy/adult hehe I miss it sometimes...

Okay Anon first of all I’m trash because I told you I would have this out the day you asked it and I totally didn’t so I’m sorry I don’t even know if you’re going to see this. 😩 But you need to know that THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE QUESTION I HAVE EVER BEEN ASKED AND I LOVE YOU A LOT. 

Anyway, I have a lot to say about this and here’s what I’m gonna say first - there’s a lot of layers to this question so let me just... write a novel. 

Important Note #1: I don’t know that you necessarily want to consider me some kind of expert on otoge with adult MCs. My favorite VN of all time is not an otome game and it is also not with a “mature MC”... you play as a 16-year old boy in Fate/Stay Night. But it’s such a good VN, if you can find it I totally recommend it. I will rave about it for DAYS so if you also want an essay about that please let me know. 

Important Note #2: Some little, technical things... - there is a difference between “mature MC” and “older MC” so I’m gonna kinda do a mix of both... but also going to include “older suitors” or “suitors with no canon age” in this criteria as well.  - I prefer PC games to mobile games but play mobile more often due to convenience... -I own a lot of games that I’m super interested in and have actually never gotten around to playing because I have both a time management problem and a shopping problem. So there are probably some even better choices than what I’m about to list from personal experience and maybe I’ll just come back and update this in a few months.  Moving on...  Here are my current top favorite VNs (otoge or not):  1. Fate/Stay Night (PC) 2. When the Night Comes (PC)   3. The Arcana (Mobile) 4. Amnesia (PC and Mobile) 5. Mystic Code (Mobile) My favorite mobile VNs:  I’m gonna tell you right now this list is gonna change on July 1st when Ikemen Vampire comes out... watch that immediately jump to the #2 spot but as of right now I haven’t played it so I can’t do that.  1. The Arcana 2. Ikemen Revolution 3. Mystic Code 4. Mystic Messenger (this is iffy to call this a VN in my opinion but VNDB lists it so I’m going go with it) 5.  Mysterious Forum and 7 Rumors  My favorite PC VNs (otoge or not): This list is a big oof to be honest because there are so many games I am really interested in but haven’t yet played. For example, I have 20+ unplayed games in my Steam library right now.  1. Fate/Stay Night 2. When the Night Comes 3. Amnesia: Memories  4. Higurashi no Naku Koro ni 5. Cinderella Phenomenon  Now those are my favorites, but here instead are my actual recommendations for you personally Anon:  Recommendations for VNs with a More Mature MC:  1. When the Night Comes (PC, Free to Play) I absolutely adore this VN. It is the best otoge/dating sim I have ever played (thus far). But that’s because it caters to a lot of my interests - it’s definitely not going to hit the mark for everyone! The MC has no canon age or gender. You can date a human, witches, a vampire, a Lycan, and a demon. There are even two route options for poly romance. THE WRITING IS PHENOMENAL. I mean the story is great, yes, but THE FUCKING LANGUAGE is totally everything I love. It is very snarky, witty, and British. Swearing in places one would swear in real life. Sarcastic, “roll my eyes at myself” jokes that one would make in real life. Things are dark but with a sliver of hope. MC is a fucking badass and very much a mature adult. It’s currently being updated monthly (chapter 8 comes out tomorrow - 6/29) so we only have two more months left and then we’re done :( 2. The Arcana (Mobile, Free to Play, with Premium Options)  Please be cautious when interacting with this fandom, especially right now. But besides that warning, The Arcana is amazing. It is also currently still updating. But the MC again has no canon age nor gender. And as a plus, as far as I am aware, the suitors do not have canon ages as well. I wish all games would have no canon suitor ages but I digress. The story sorta starts as a murder mystery but evolves into something much more. It is magical. It incorporates tarot so well. The art is absolutely gorgeous. The MC is not at all helpless and definitely holds their own. 

3. Cinderella Phenomenon (PC, Free to Play)   Okay so MC in this one is NOT an adult. She’s 17, I believe. But she’s a bitch and I love her. I genuinely love the plot of this VN. The art is very pretty - very art nouveau. If you like twists on fairy tails, some snark, and a story of... uh, learning how to be less of a bitch ... this one is a great play! 

4. Mystic Code (Mobile, Free to Play, with Premium Options) I’m not gonna elaborate on this here since Anon already knows about it but I want to remind people reading this that I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS VN... I believe it is the best game to come out on mobile thus far this year.  5. Love Tangle in the Niflheim+ (Mobile, Free to Play with Premium Options, Abandoned)  So... normally I would never recommend a Shall We Date game as a top choice, however, this game is SWD’s only exception. It, of course, has the god awful mechanics that all SWD games have, which could make it a bit annoying to play. This game has also unfortunately been abandoned by SWD so there are NO updates to it. Luckily, all the routes (save for one, I’m pretty sure they were planning to release Sunny’s route prior to abandoning) are out and in full. MC has no canon age and it doesn’t matter because she’s fucking dead. Your suitors are also dead. This is the best premise of a fucking story I have ever seen. As with most SWD games, the writing is a hit or a miss depending on the route, but the MC is mature and strong-willed - never helpless. (One thing I will give SWD is they tend to write their MCs with a bit of *bite* in them.) The writing has some well-timed comedic moments so it definitely keeps you entertained!! I originally started playing just for the novelty of it but I actually genuinely love it. Plus MC has the best hair of all the MCs I have ever seen. 

Additionally, I recommend both Ikemen Sengoku and Ikemen Revolution (Mobile, FTP w/ Premium Options). The MC usually has her shit together although she does have her moments of “oh no baby what is you doing?” And in both games, she’s a young adult, not anywhere near 30 but I still find I have no problem self-inserting.  Other games:  -  Hustle Cat (PC, $) - I have yet to play, but it was recommended to me by two people I trust when it comes to these types of games. It seems to be geared toward adults and as far as I am aware, MC is customizable in not only pronouns but build as well.  - Mr. Love Queen’s Choice (Mobile, mostly FTP) - I do play this and I enjoy it. I wouldn’t really recommend it for a “mature” MC (even though she is a young adult who runs a company), but I mod a MLQC discord server and noticed a lot of our members are in the late 20s-30s. So obviously this game appeals to an “older” market (har har, I just mean “older” than 21). It’s a VN at its core, but it’s got so much extra shit going on that it can be overwhelming unless you like those sort of games. The story part of it is really, really good. And the MC gets equal time with all the suitors (instead of specifically just choosing one route to date).  - Food Fantasy (Mobile, mostly FTP) - this isn’t a VN and I don’t think it’s technically an otoge either- it’s a JRPG-  but oh my goodness the art is fucking gorgeous, and the backstory that sets up the game is WILD, dark, and deep. It blew my mind. It’s cute! So I had to throw it in here in case you were looking for something fun. :)  And finally, VNs on my “To-Play” List:  - Ikemen Vampire (Mobile) - this is coming out in just a few days and I have been waiting for 8 months, so I’m super stoked! - Psychedelica of the Black Butterfly (PC and Vita, $) - The House in Fata Morgana (PC, $) - Clannad (PC, $$)  - Tokyo Debunker (Mobile) - as far as I know there’s no official release date yet, unfortunately! :(  Anyway please message me more if you have any more questions or want to know anything else, I love this shit thank you!!! Depending on the question I’ll try not to write a thesis paper next time :[ 

[emsartwork]

below the cut

1. I’m excited! granted there are some serious issues that we should not let slide (the whitewashing mainly), and a couple decisions im not a fan of (valtor and the stiff art style) but im holding final judgement until the season actually airs. I do think the girls look cute, and cosmix sounds cool but we’ll see     2. yeah my version of harmonix isn’t waterbased, its just like the baby version of nymphix. I kinda removed all of the shell and coral aspects in my redesign too lol.  3. 

Yeah so, people in the magix universe live generally the same amount of time, no matter what planet. The ages are based on the planet Magix’s rotation and are a universe standard. They live MUCH longer than earth people, 7500 is pushing it as an age, its probs about the equivalent of 100 in human years. They are considered to hit puberty at 14/16, to be a young adult at age 20, and fully mature at 50. their long lifetime is partially why most of the characters are single children(bloom and possibly flora being the exceptions) if you live for a really long time you don’t need to reproduce as frequently. The reason life expectancy on earth is so so short is because the wizards of the black circle basically cut off ALL the environmental magic on the planet, leading to following generations of people to not have the very necessary influence during their childhood(kind of like if you never got any sunlight, you might live but it wouldn’t be for very long) as the magic has been realeased again, the current generation will probably live much longer than expected, and any lingering symptoms in the future generations will quickly fade so they’ll live the full magix universe 7500 years.   4. Yeah!!! i’m gonna get to world of winx after finishing the 7th season redesigns. 5. not totally sure what you’re asking about since economy and industry are insanely large topics but i’ll do my best to cover it. I think each planet would have it’s own currency, but that there would also be a universal coin that could be used alongside native currency. I could see Lynphea and Domino still using a barter system, and zenith economical standing could literally be based on ur IQ but im not committing to that. As for industries, I’m just gonna cover exports. Domino would export a lot of stone,gold, and magic goods, but after being restored they have to break into the market again. Solaria would export sand. if that sounds boring sand is used in  A LOT of building projects and fine glass so they make bank. Andros would export fish, salt, and some rare underwater plants. Lynphea primarily exports agriculture/animal goods, and produce 50% of the total food consumed on magix. Melody has a thriving entertainment and tourism industry, and a lot of iron deposits. Zenith exports mostly electronics, and sometimes furs when they have a good season. Eraklyon exports precious metals and gemstones, they have some of the finest jewelry crafters around.  Earth is just rejoining the universal market but i think “archaic and magic-less” artifacts would probably be successful novelty items. 6. Possibly! it would be after the other transformations lol 7. I think bloom would be protected from natural fire, but magic fire i think it would depend on the intent of the caster. The fire you talk about when bloom is found was a natural house fire(i think), but the fire in cloud tower was set to scare the girls by Miss Griffin, so even if the girls had stayed in the library i don’t think the fire would have seriously hurt them(maybe a slight sting is Ms G is feeling ornery but beyond that i think they were safe) 8. Thank you so much!! 9. (I’m assuming you’re talking about dipper and mabel) Probably not unless it’s a commission, the crossover thing isn’t really something I’m interested in. 10. ngl some of the comic transformations seem….. pointless? like as a pure aesthetic experiment some of them could be fun, but a lot of them are super situational and don’t seem like. useful. the exception im thinking of will probs be travelix, which i might combine with the “stone of memory sequence” outfits from season 7 for an extra and very limited use transformation lol. greenix could also be useful as like, a super version of sophix, but would need some HEAVY redesigning. i’ll probs end up doing at least some of them but we’ll see lol @drops-of-moonlights 11. I’m not super familiar with the girls from monster high actually, but I can ascribe monster types to the winx girls!! @divinelavellan Bloom: daughter of the great dragon obvi Stella: star based monster types are actually pretty rare….. so im gonna go with daughter of the nemean lion. Flora: Dryad? actually nah, she’s gonna be daughter of the unicorn since she focuses so much on healing magic. Tecna: cyborg or robot, alternatively i could see her being the daughter of baba yaga but thats probably more everafter high material.  Musa: Probably a siren, the greek bird type not the fish type. Aisha: I wanna say mermaid but thats so basic…. what about a encantado. 12. your english is fine! the short answer is yeah, they can do it the “traditional” way lol. If you want a clinical answer basically all the lynpheans have done is broadened the reproductive material status to include the rest of their body and not just egg/sperm. Lynphean+Lynphean still takes a long time for the graft to take, so Lynphean+Non-Lynphean would probably take even longer and have more complications, but the non-lynphean could very easily use drawn blood as a DNA contributor instead of their hand lmao. Granted the respective sexes of the partners would make it easier or harder depending. I can go even deeper down this rabbit hole but idk how gross an answer you wanted so i’ll stop for now lol.

[sirkkasnow]

02 Always Take the Nickel Tour

Ao3 link

07/01/13 Monday

Morning dawned with a pleasant chill. Between Stan, Soos and Ford, they got the old station wagon - a sky-blue Ford Fairlane - rolled away from the house and tucked in at a shallow angle next to the Stanleymobile. The S still leaned forlornly against the dented siding. They’d get it hauled up and nailed back into place later.

Stan swept the road-trip debris off the front passenger seat and cracked the glove compartment. He set aside the age-yellowed manual and the service records, most of them crisp and fragile on ancient transfer paper, one new, extensive and computer-printed.

He then flipped through everything else, scanning with an expert eye for items of interest. 

Brand new insurance card in the name of Clara Jane Merrick. A small collection of much older insurance cards in the name of Charles and Caroline Merrick. Vintage pressure gauge, matte black LED flashlight, heavy-framed designer sunglasses, can of pepper spray.

Photograph in a gold-stamped cardboard frame. Stan fished that one out, curious. The photo stock was the old-school linen textured stuff. Three blondes of varying shades grinned back at him, lined up like nesting dolls by age – forties, twenties, preteen – with matching sunhats and huge smiles. The smallest and darkest-haired was instantly recognizable as Clary. She was maybe twelve years old here, a beaky girl still growing into the aquiline nose neither of the others shared. He flexed the frame in one hand, squinting in to read the penned inscription on the photo's back - Carrie, Charlie, Clary.

Stan filed that away for later reference, returned the less-relevant stuff to the glove compartment, then leaned way over along the bench seat to pull the hood release.

The sun had slipped past noon by the time Clary finally emerged from the house, looking far less threadbare than she had the prior night. She was crisply dressed in yesterday’s Bermuda shorts, a fresh button-down shirt and a silk scarf patterned with dragonflies - wrapped twice, snug, knotted off-center at the throat. “Good afternoon, Stan.”

“Hey, Clary. Feelin’ better?” He was elbow-deep in the car’s guts by now, a few unsalvageable bits laid out on an old towel to one side. Grease streaked his forearms. The engine was pretty nice for something near the age of his own wheels, a huge V-8 that had seen very little use. This must have spent most of its life in a garage.

Clary stepped in alongside Stan, peering despondently into the engine compartment. “Sore, but rested, at least. What’s the diagnosis?”

Stan hissed in thought. “Drive belt assembly’s shot, electricals are kind of a mess. Radiator hoses of course. Think the engine block’s okay. The body damage isn’t too bad.”

Clary ran exploring fingers along the battered chrome of the front grill, mouth set in an unhappy line. “Except for the concave hood, I suppose. What can I do to help?”

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“Repair? Not a thing.”

“It’s gonna be a while.” Stan glanced sidelong to study her profile.

“Ford said it may take weeks.” Clary’s tone was conflicted, teeth catching lightly at her lower lip, brow furrowed.

“Ford doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about when it comes to cars, but yeah, he’s not wrong. This thing’s old and the parts are gonna be a pain to scavenge up.” Stan straightened and toweled off his hands. “Orderin’ stuff in would take a while and I know from experience that you don’t always get the right widget through the mail. Might have a couple ideas about local sources…we’ll see. You okay?”

That air of pinched distress was tight around her eyes again. She rolled her shoulders back, looking up and out into the forest. An unhurried breeze set thousands of green-velvet branches into whispering motion. “Okay enough. It’s gorgeous here,” almost as an afterthought.

Stan flicked his gaze heavenwards for a weary moment. Yeah, she’d be staying for the duration. What the hell was it with tourists and pines? “Y’get used to it. Check out the Shack yet?”

“Not yet. I was promised an expert guide.” She stepped away, heading around the back of the wagon to unlatch and hoist down the mountain bike from its rack. A faint residue of reddish dust clung to the tire rims. “Maybe when I’m done unpacking the basics? Since I’m going to be here a few days, there are people who need to know my plans have changed.”

“Thought you were on vacation.”

“Money never sleeps, and unfortunately it’s easy to get some things done on the road.”

She trailed back and forth for a while, parking the bike and hauling a larger duffel bag into the house. Stan worked methodically through the last few items on his engine checklist and jotted down an occasional note. By the time she returned he had a more or less complete catalogue of what needed work. He lowered the badly-dented hood into place and latched it. “Fixin’ this is gonna be an adventure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Let me know what you need in terms of parts, I can cover whatever – “

Stan ducked his head, stifling the wide flash of his grin behind one hand. “Careful, kid, don’t leave yourself quite that wide open. This is pretty much on Ford anyway so I’ll take most of it out of his hide. C’mon.” Clary paced in his wake, looking up and out across the Shack grounds like she hadn’t bothered before – probably a fair enough assessment after yesterday’s chaos. “So car repair’s not your bag, no shock that. How about arts and crafts? Tall tales? Improv?”

“I’ve had to put on a song-and-dance routine for the IRS a few times. Does that count?”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Depends on whether you pulled it off.”

“I definitely pulled it off. At least no one’s come looking for me yet.”

“Maybe you help me help Soos around the Shack, then, put those tap-dancin’ skills to the test. A favor for a favor.”

Clary frowned at him in puzzlement. “I’m game to try. This is all a bit outside my wheelhouse.”

“Honestly, you could get stuck in way worse places than this. We’ve got tons of stuff for the discernin’ passerby. Merchandise, magic, mystery, uh, mayhem, you get the picture.”

They walked through the house and he held the showroom door open for a moment. Clary peeked through at the flock of tourists trailing after Soos like happy ducklings. “You interested in this kinda stuff?”

“Interested enough to read the bumper sticker. Not enough to actually plan you into my itinerary.”

“Damn shame, that, you’d be missin’ out on the ninth wonder of the world.” He managed to time it in sync with Soos’ patter, the rhythm of the show familiar as breathing, and got a chuckle in return. “They’ll wrap up in a few, we’ll take a quick look at the gift shop until they clear out. Then you get your Founder’s Tour.”

“That’s you, then, not Soos?”

“Got it in one. I built this place from the ground up! Sure, the house was here and the junk was here, but I’m the one who spun it into a wondrous house of mysterious junk.” His hands swept up and out in a marquee arc. Clary gave him that wry, oblique glance he was getting used to.

The gift shop was temporarily abandoned. Stan made himself comfortable leaning against the counter and watched her pace the periphery, trailing careful fingertips over the snow globes. “Take a look around! If you see an impulse buy, make it.”

“I’ll pick out a few things before I go. If I don’t have physical evidence, no one will believe that I was here.” She picked up a snow globe, flipped it over to stir the flakes into motion, then set it down with exaggerated caution and headed for the freezer.

“Just because you’re stayin’ over does not mean you get to sneak in here for an ice pop.” He watched her peer through the glass at their collection of frozen novelties. “This as far out west as you’ve gotten? I mean, we’re off the beaten path and you’re just passin’ through, right? Most folks would’ve taken the main route north of here.”

“This is my fifth state in - “ She frowned, then sighed. “Three days with the overnight, I guess. I’ve been taking it slow and sticking to the state highways, since I’m traveling solo.”

“Long way to drive alone.”

“Yes.” Clary skimmed through the T-shirt rack and plucked out a question mark to hold up against her chest. “You started this place up, then. Can I ask how long you’ve been at it? There’s some history here, I can see that much.”

“Thirty years.” Easier to say now that the long wait was over, that was for sure. He studied her thoughtfully; she was a tough read compared to the usual Gravity Falls crowd. “Can’t say that I ever thought I’d start to enjoy this line of work, originally the idea was just to get the mortgage paid, but go figure. Built a pretty nice business out of tellin’ lies – ‘scuse me, stories.”

A bare sliver of a smile curled along her lips. “You did. I can tell this is a local institution. You’re retired now?”

“More or less. My brother wanted to haul me off on an expedition. Couldn’t say no.” Stan ducked his chin, smiling to himself. “Couldn’t up an’ close the place either, so I left it all to Soos. Been nice to come back and see what he’s made of it, stick my hand in again. You can take the man out of the Mystery Shack, but you can’t take the mystery out of the man, I guess.”

Clary came to rest at the counter next to him, hands empty, he noted. “So I get a rare chance at a tour from the original Mr. Mystery.”

“What, nothin’ here inspires you to drop a wad of cash?”

“I think I’ll make my purchases after I have a functioning car.”

“Fair enough. You’re about to witness a true master in action.” The excited murmur of shopping-primed tourists was beginning to build at the interior door. “We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before the next gaggle rolls through, so you get the short form. Anythin’ specific you want to see?”

They slipped out of the shop as the current group started to trickle in, ducking into the showroom. Stan couldn’t help sweeping an arm out to indicate the entire collection. “Behold, the Mystery Shack!”

Clary appraised the exhibits with cool cynicism. “Which one of these gets the least attention? I’ve always loved the half-hidden displays best.”

She strolled at his side, hands in her pockets, lips twitching now and then as he spun familiar stories. Coaxing a laugh out of her at the right points, a smile here and there, felt like a little victory. There was a customer like this in every tour, the one who’d been dragged along by family or friends. If that one could be won over the rest of the group would be eating out of his hand.

“I have no idea what this is. Must be a Soos addition.” Stan peered at the tiny huts shingled with pine cone scales built into a series of branches suspended from one of the ceilings, glittering with well-concealed LED lights. “All right, the Village of Cannibal Pixies, to whom we’re apparently now rentin’ space in the showroom. They’re out huntin’ their fellow fairies for the rest of the day, but they’ll be back this evenin’ and no doubt throwin’ quite the party, which is just as well, because most of the other fairies ‘round these parts are about as much fun as a root canal….”

She had to bite her lip against a horrified laugh. “I thought these were all your creations?”

“Nah. You’ve gotta keep the mix fresh. Throw in somethin’ new and the tourists will flock through the doors. It’s been almost a year since I got to add a new exhibit, actually.” Stan nudged her in the side with an elbow. “And you are gonna help me put my mark on the place again. Think you’ve soaked up enough inspiration?”

“I’ve soaked up something. Inspiration for what, exactly?” Stan ushered her through another door, one tucked into the shadow of a larger display’s curtain. They wove together through a twisting hallway and he savored her blink of surprise when they emerged a few steps down the hall from the kitchen.

“We’re makin’ another attraction for the showroom.” He’d already laid out most of the basics earlier that morning, with a vague plan towards taking stock and maybe patching some bits and bobs together, but the prospect of testing their new guest’s creative skills – not patience, that’d be rude – was too good to pass up.

The contents of the kitchen table were pauper’s choices, honestly. A handful of pelts, odds and ends left over from birds long since parted out for other projects, a couple of smaller skulls, coils of heavy aluminum wire for armatures. Clary sifted through the remnants with a careful hand and a dubious expression.

“Surprise me.” He dropped off a tack hammer and a few brads on his way past. She made a faint incredulous noise, her head swiveling to follow, and Stan shot her a flat look of challenge: Show me what you’ve got, bean-counter.

Her shoulders stiffened, and she settled cautiously into one of the kitchen chairs. “Pliers?”

“Toolbox under the table.”

The toolbox jangled heavily as she hauled it up into easy reach. He tuned out the low noise of her work for a while. His own projects kept him plenty busy – sprucing up the display cards for a couple of the new oddities Soos had incorporated, reviewing the merch inventory and a couple of new concepts, moving on with a hum of pleasure to update the current supply list for the Stan O’War.

It was the better part of an hour before he heard the chair scrape back. “Tinfoil?” Clary asked.

“Two drawers over from the fridge.”

A few clunks and a crinkle, then he heard her muttering spoon, spoon under her breath, clattering through the silverware drawer. She paced back over to the table and dragged the chair back in with a shallow sigh. Stan glanced over and saw her hunched over an armature, brow creased as she padded out the shape.

“You all right over there?” He was trying not to laugh. This was not the kind of focus he’d been expecting.

“Flashbacks to high school art class, nothing too traumatic, I promise.”

This went on for a while. Stan drifted out of the kitchen to track down one of the Shack ledgers and his last box of spare critter bits, which he set wordlessly at her elbow. She ransacked the contents and didn’t look up when she spoke. “Putty?” He rattled through a drawer and dropped off half a jumbo packet of the plumber’s two-part type on the table, which Clary pulled in and unwrapped.

It was well past five when something mostly complete sat before her. She had come up with a compact little mustelid nightmare, something weaselish in build with elaborate grasping talons pieced together from every sharp claw remaining amid the sorry leftovers he’d dumped out of his dwindling box of tricks. Wings scavenged from a sharp-shinned hawk he’d collected on some roadside ages ago were anchored in half-furled at the shoulders. The mink skull had been carefully if inexpertly re-skinned. Brow ridges and tiny, twisting horns sculpted out of plumber’s putty crowned the toothy head.

The thing was cute in an amateur way. He thought, bemused, that it might make a decent plush toy.

Clary flipped the critter over, features creased in complete concentration as she stitched in the last bits along the belly. “Got any paint?”

Stan folded his arms, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “Y’know, normally I’d just patch together bits from a fish, a squirrel and a chicken, and call it good.”

“Hell with that, we’ve got tourists to impress.” Clary hissed under her breath as she stabbed herself with the needle. When she finally stretched, he heard her neck pop and saw the wince. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half past time to pack it in, kid.”

She sat up straight in surprise, glancing out the window into the saturated deep-golden light of late, late afternoon. “Oh no.”

Stan tilted his thumb her way, letting the grin widen. “So I think you might be on the hook for pizza tonight. Seein’ as how you’ve been dead to the world for hours and we’d be goin’ with cereal otherwise.”

An indignant pause hung in the air as her brows rose sharply. “There’s still plenty of time for me to call my insurance company. I might well have whiplash. Those old-school bench seats with no headrest are infamous for that.”

He slung a dirty look over his shoulder as he retrieved the paintbox from a cupboard. “Ford said you were fine.”

“I don’t think I heard him mention a medical degree in that list he rattled off.”

“All right, fine, we’ll split pizza for the gang.” Her eyes narrowed to calculating slits. “Lady, you drive a hard bargain. Howsabout you tell me what this thing is and then we’ll talk.” Stan opened the paintbox and sorted through half-empty tubes of acrylics. “You know how to drybrush?”

“Nope.” Clary studied her spiky-clawed creation, somewhat at a loss. “Let me mull this over a moment….”

“It helps to have some idea what you’re doin’ before you start stitchin’ things together, y’know.” Stan picked out a dark chocolate brown and laid down a quick basecoat on the horns. “You’ve outfoxed the IRS? Then all you gotta do is think on your feet.”

There was a brief quiet. The weight of her gaze lingered on him as he dipped into a deep purple and started shading along the inner edge of the brow ridge.

“This is the lesser Northwestern horned hawkweasel,” she said at length, adopting the deep, plummy tone of a nature-documentary narrator. “Or the midnight mink. Fierce far out of proportion to their size, these crafty, fearless creatures feed mainly on fish and whatever birds they can catch. Usually solitary, as the moon wanes they gather up in gangs to hunt their favored prey – nightmares. The bigger, the better.”

“Where’s a winged weasel gonna find nightmares in the depths of the Cascades?” Stan plucked out a liner brush and limned the eyes with a perfect pinstripe of metallic teal.

“Everything that can think has dreams. These little fellas like the blackest, bleakest ones they can find, and some of the denizens of these forests have deep and terrible dreams. If not for these guys, some of those denizens might wake up.”

Stan snorted in soft amusement as he laid highlights in along the horns. “Not terrible for a first shot. Soos might dig the idea, and hell, at least Lovecraft’s long since out of copyright, yeah?” He sat back, assessing, then touched on a last few dots of color. “This is about as show-ready as it’s gonna get. Hang on a sec.”

He toted the not-quite-weasel down to the office, setting it on the least cluttered file cabinet for later – it was going to need a story card at the very least – then swung by the deserted gift shop, cracking the vending machine open to fish out a couple of ice-cold Pitts. Clary was packing away tools by the time he returned to the kitchen, and he set a can within easy reach. “Nothin’ like a cold one to finish up the day. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She picked up her can, popped it, then tapped its edge against his. “I’ve got to wonder.” He eyed her, momentarily wary, as he dropped into his own chair. “What possessed a man from New Jersey to land way out here in the hinterlands of Oregon? It’s certainly pretty, but this is about as close to the absolute middle of nowhere as I’ve ever been.”

“You actually interested in me? Or do you ask everyone these kinda questions?”

“I’m mainly interested in you.”

That was a bit of a surprise. A chuckle snagged in Stan’s chest as he met her frank regard. “Usually the longest I can get people to listen to me is when I’m sellin’ somethin’, and even then it’s tough luck.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.” The faint curve of her smile was half obscured by the rim of her soda can. “No way you kept this place running for so long without knowing how to string an audience along in suspense.”

“It’s, ah, it’s a knack. I’ve been good at it ever since I was a kid.” He cleared his throat and took a lingering sip, buying a moment. Her brows quirked in expectation. “So, you’re serious?”

“How long do you plan on leaving me in suspense?”

“The last time someone started askin’ personal questions, she tried to eat me,” Stan muttered. “Can you imagine? I’m practically skin and bones.”

That bought him a sharp laugh, right on the beat. “Come on. You can’t just leave it there.”

Stan took a long look at her, then drew breath, fired up the cockiest grin in his repertoire, and launched in. “So, y’see, there’s this irresistible thing called ‘revenge’….”

Clary was a good listener and a better interrogator, absorbing whatever outrageous half-truth he had to offer without scoffing, pressing with well-targeted questions at every opportunity. Every time she cut close to the bone he’d flash her something shiny to distract. Verbal sleight-of-hand was so second nature by now that he barely noticed doing it. Stan couldn’t tell how much of it she was buying, which was disconcerting as hell.

In the end he paid for the pizza. She slipped in behind him to press an overgenerous tip into the delivery driver’s hand.

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There are plenty of repair records in the glove box, the old manual, and some other potentially interesting odds and ends.

Just take the repair records and the manual.

Go through all the personal paperwork.

Is there any money in there?

[amanda-shipley-massage]

Why Did I Go Into Massage Therapy?

I was, well still am, a nerd. Sci-fi, Anime, and Band. Large square glasses, always a book in hand. As a child, one look at me in Gym class and you would laugh......so how in the world did I get into Massage Therapy???

If you try to picture a Massage Therapist, you will probably imagine someone with long hair tied back in a length of fabric, eating a lovely breakfast of organic vegan food, and listening to whale calls on a music player. Or perhaps someone who is doing yoga on some random white sand beach overlooking a peaceful ocean whilst harmonizing with the ebbs of the tides.

Now picture me, if you can, a 5'4" 180lb book nerd who has the athleticism of a bear during January. That doesn't quite match up to the aesthetic, does it? So how did I get here?

I'll let you in on a little secret. Ready? My dream job when I was little: To be like Steve Irwin. Yep, that's right. I wanted to be a Herpetologist. I have a picture of me when I was just 5 years old holding a baby alligator. And one day when I find it in the massive pile of photo albums my mom keeps, I'll attach it to this post.

I was so determined that when I was in 3rd grade (or Primary 4 for non-Americans) I convinced my mom to take me to the local college where there was a Herpetology class on Saturdays. For 5 months every Saturday I would go to the local college and learn about reptiles. And even now I can pull up my transcript and that class will still be on there.....though I think I got more of a participation grade than an actual grade.

Now, let me bring everyone to my generation for a bit. I was born in 1998. Youtube was invented when I was 8. Okay? Everyone with me? Alrighty then.

When I was in 6th grade (I was 11 yrs old. Do the math. I tried seeing what other countries do, but apparently literally everyone does it differently. For me it was my last year in Primary) over Christmas I got a laptop and on the laptop was the Internet. Now I had been on the internet before and my family had a desk top, but now I could have the Internet On.My.Lap.

I could use the laptop in the living room, my bedroom, I even used the landing on the stairs a few times. It was a novelty.

Well as any self respecting 11 year old would do in the year 2009, I went on Youtube and watched Charlie the Unicorn and Llamas With Hats. When I finished with that I watched Dragon Ball Z. Again, reiterating.....I was a nerd starting from a very young age. Well, one day over that glorious Christmas break away from the worries of school as I was on Youtube watching various videos, on the trending page there was a video titled something along the lines of: Strange Asian Chiropractic Must Watch Now.

Obviously click bait, but I was baited and I clicked.

But now the Youtube algorhythm thought they had me after that video and over in the suggested column was a video titled "Relaxing ASMR Swedish Massage"

You can probably guess what I did next.

I clicked.

That video changed and rocked my world. I couldn't believe what I was watching. It felt so right. Like a chunk inside of me was missing and had finally been found.

I kept clicking and watching more and more videos. I subscribed and liked and commented. I learned techniques and styles and lingo.

Just the thought that I could be the reason someone recovered. That someone felt a relief from pain. That I healed someone. I was already someone that loved to be gentle and kind to all people. And I loved being a carer.

I grew warm and my heart became light.

I envisioned a world where I was a Healer and a Fixer. Patching up broken people with Love and Kindness and Hope and Peace.

*************************************************************************

The word Massage has a jaded history. Other than Youtube I had only ever seen it on Disney channel shows where the characters are comically hurt by hot stone therapy. And on the news you only heard about the scandals that drenched the industry in shade.

I grew up in St. Louis, MO and while people are more progressive with each generation, Massage and Eastern Medicine is still trying to build public appeal. To sway opinion that it's not just luxury spa and pamper, but a medical and healing art form.

Living in this environment, even just 10 years ago, I kept my interests closed off and quiet.

I didn't ever really think I could ever go in to the industry and I held those therapists I subscribed to on Youtube on such a pedestal that I never compared myself to them, giving them more of a celebrity status.

Instead I focused on History. Because I was going to be a History Teacher. Or really a teacher in general. I come from a 6 generation line of teachers on my mom's side, I would have been the 7th. I figured that since I love history and that I have a good genetic probability of succeeding, then that's what I should do.

And whilst I was preparing myself for a life of lectures and grading homework, I continued watching videos and practicing moves in the background.

Then the universe stepped in and changed my life forever.

September 1, 2016 I was t-boned on the driver's side of the car. I was taking classes at the local community college on an A+ scholarship and was heading to the local plaza to get food. Suddenly my cars 100 ft down the road, perpendicular to traffic. There's smoke everywhere and this horrible smell. My ears were ringing and I hurt top to bottom. There was an airbag in my face and blood running from my lip. My vision slowly faded to black, but I did not lose consciousness.

We learned later from the experts that looked at my car, that the other guy hit me so hard that my seat detached from the floor of the car ending with the back of my head hitting the windshield. And before you ask, yes I was wearing my seat belt.

I was fully blind the first 8 hours after the wreck. I was worried that I'd be sightless the rest of my life. Eventually though, I regained vision in both eyes, but only color in my right, my left is as you are looking through a sepia filter.

It took me two month's to walk again without aid from a walker, cane, crutch, or brace. Though I still have a brace I use if my knee's acting up.

I ended up having to drop out of school. Or rather.......I flunked out of school. The day after the wreck I was sitting my classes and I continued to stubbornly show up. Let me just say that you do not want to see my report card.

I finished out that year with the only passing grades on my transcript being Band.

The next year I took a gap. Until October. I was sitting in the living room filling out job applications when suddenly I got a text from an unknown number saying: "Are you interested in a career in Massage Therapy?" I replied that I was interested and less than a month later I was working as a receptionist for a Massage Envy location and I had a spot in a school starting in January.

Thanks Universe!!

Since then I have graduated from my program with an "A", passed the MBLEX, and have now been working as a LMT for almost 6 months and it has been amazing!! I have lots of amazing coworkers and I love the clinic environment and I have never felt like have belonged somewhere more than I do now.

And that, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, is how I, Amanda Shipley, ended up becoming a Massage Therapist.

Peace and Love

Amanda

************************************************************

If you like my content, make sure you give me a follow and leave a heartwarming comment! Maybe share how you got in to your profession!

[jkl-fff]

JKL I cannot stress this enough. ANSWER ALL OF THEM.

Heh. Why pick when you can just request all of them, right?Here we go, then (and thanks for the asks!)

Slightly Invasive Gay Asks

1. What’s your gender?

Hmm … Since I find the idea ofconceptual genders rather poetic (not recognized terms, but abstractdescriptions), I’ll give one of those: quirky and enthusiasticlanguage-literature-writing teacher who unironically uses a lot of Uncle Irohgifs and giggles like Scooby-Doo when someone make a particularly potent pun. Also, I’m a cis man with inclinations more towards non-toxic masculinity.

2. What are your pronouns?

He/His Grace, preferably, thoughI’ve no problem with people using Him or They/Them, I suppose.

3. Is your family accepting?

I’m fortunate enough to say theyare. Mom’s still worried about my spiritual and emotional well-being—about mefinding happiness, and worrying it might not happen like this—but that’s justwhat moms do.

4. What do you wish you could tell your past self?

Righteousness and Wickedness aresocial constructs propagated and perpetuated by authority figures to maintainan ideology which benefits them. So is “God the Father” (and Jesus Christ andthe Holy Ghost) as you conceive of them, or as anyone else ever conceives ofthem. You are *free* to do *whatever you want* so long as it doesn’t infringeon the freedom of others.

This means, boyo, that being gay isn’t a sin.Which is good, because you are gayer than a fruit bat. Just embrace it already,and you’ll be a lot more at peace with yourself and the universe.

5. What is your sexuality?

Hella gay,my dudes. Hella gay.If I wanted to expand further,I’d add placiosexual (I get off on pleasuring other people more than being pleasured).

6. Favorite color?

A deep and rich purple, like Tyrianor Imperial purple. Though I am increasingly fond of light pinks. And black is always in season.It’s funny, but as a kid I’d always say dark blue because I didn’t want peopleto think I was gay. Naturally, purple was the gay color, while blue was a safe“boy’s color” … for reasons … Isn’t heteronormativity absolutely silly?

7. Sun Gay or Moon Gay?

Moon, I guess? The sun is sogarishly bright. Even harshly so. But the moon is tastefully understated—just reallyelegant, y’know?—and also gentle and cyclical.

8. When did you find out your sexuality?

This is a rather difficult questionto tackle thanks to the cognitive dissonance imposed by heteronormativity … 

Onsome level, I *had* to have known since I started masturbating regularly (atage 13 or 14), because I only ever fantasized about other boys and guys. And I *was*aware of this on some level. However, the very idea of being gay was soinconceivable for a mormon boy (and socially stigmatized thanks to thepejorative use of the word “gay” to mean basically “stupid” from elementarythrough high school), that I refused to recognize it for years. Like, I was soinvested in being a good, mormon boy that I truly fully planned to follow themormon track of serving a religious mission for 2 years, marrying a woman inthe temple (big thing for mormons, that temple marriage), and probablyeventually having a kid or two (though I’ve never actually wanted to havechildren).

Ergo, it wasn’t until I was 19 and on a mission in France, working and livingnonstop with other guys (most of whom were quite good-looking AND had notrouble lounging around in their underwear when we were at home), that I couldno longer lie to myself. That was when I consciously recognized and consciouslybegan to struggle against “the burden of Same Sex Attraction” (as mormons insiston calling it) through “the power of faith” in Ja-eeee-sus Chrys’theLORD.

You can extrapolate from the present-day contents of my blog (and the abovesarcasm) how successful that was. Honestly, I’m rather surprised thepsychological distress such internalized and slow-toxic homophobia caused neverdrove me to take a leap of faith off a building at some point between ages 20and 25.

But those dark days were over when, at 25, I fell in love for the first time,and decided that there wasn’t much sense in being miserable, self-loathing, andlonely anymore. That’s when I started the process of coming out.

So … take your pick, I guess: it’s 13, 19, or 25.

9. How was your day?

Apart from sleep deprivationweighing me down (which is my own fault, as I stayed up late writing, then hadto get up early to lesson plan), it was grand! Went to work in the afternoonand got a good workout there moving freight, then went to teach my French classin the evening and had a ball while doing it!

10. Do you have any gay friends?

Bitch, at this point, I’m wonderingif I have any *straight* friends.Seriously, though, I do have some straight friends. But my closest friends areall openly queer in one way or another.

11. What’s your favorite hobby?

Taekwon-Doand writing.

12. Who’s the best gay icon in your opinion?

Garnet, anthropomorphicrepresentation of a now-married, WLW couple WHO KICKS ALL OF THE ASS BECAUSESHE IS MADE OF LOVE A N D  I T  I S S T R O N G E R   T H A N  Y O U,  J A S P E R!

13. Which Pride flags do you like the most design/colorwise?

Hard not to love the classic Gay Priderainbow, since it accessorizes with everything, though I prefer one thatexplicitly makes sure to include PoC, such as this one:

(Does anyone know who made this one?I saved a copy when I first saw it, because it’s fantabulous,but have never seen the post for it again.)

For the colors, the Bi and theTrans flags are quite lovely combinations, too.

14. Are you openly out?

You tellme:

Yeah, I wear this everyday becauseI got tired of people even contemplating the possibility that I might bestraight.

15. Are you comfortable with yourself?

More-or-less, and I think more thanless as time goes on. There are still bad days, but … once I understood thatbeing kind to people *also* means being kind to *myself*, it became a loteasier to become comfortable with myself. AND also easier to actually recognizeand work constructively on the parts of me I wished to improve.

16. Bottom or Top?

As a matter of principle, I striveto at least *be willing* to be verse—strive to never ask for anything I’m notwilling to give back, but … I definitely prefer to take charge and Top (evenwhen, or especially when, still giving manual or oral pleasure).Who knows, though? Maybe I just haven’t been topped right.

17. Femme or Butch?

Bold of you to assume I have aconsistent style.Seriously, though, im be Butch, I guess? I don’t really seek to present in afeminine way, so by default that make me Butch … Right? I dunno.

18. Do you bind?

Only myroot foot to strengthen it against a lingering ankle injury when I go to work.

19. Do you shave?

Only when I have to tidy up mybeard. No one shall see all of my face EVER AGAIN!

20. If you could date anyone you wanted, who would it be?

Right now, it’d be a coworker ofmine named Justin. He’s just … such an adorkable nerd with a really upbeatpersonality, and I find him very cute. And physically attractive, too. Like,damn, have you *seen* his assets? (obviously you haven’t, but trust me, they’requite pleasing assthetically)Unfortunately, he’s already married to another guy, who I hope knows he’sdamned lucky.

21. Do you have a partner (s)?

Alas, I donot. I’ve been somewhat unlucky in love.

22. Describe your partner (s)?

Hidden from me—hidden somewhere outthere, hopefully searching for me as I search for him … hopefully soon to crossmy path …

23. Have you ever dated anyone of the same sex?

I thinkabout 10 different guys. Obviously, none of them worked out.Some of them might have, but Iwasn’t ready at the time, and now it’s too late …  Oh well. Life goes on.

24. Anyone of another sex?

Technically, I suppose I’ve been ontwo dates with women. For the first (a double date) we were theoretically goingto a high school dance … but none of us were really into that when we gotthere, so instead we just drove around in her truck and made her stuffedpenguin heckle other drivers. The second was a few years later, and we went to a young, single adults gameevening after having dinner with her family. Annnnnd … that’s it.

25. Pastel Gay or Goth Gay?

I ain’tgoth, that’s for sure. But I’m not sure I’m pastel, either …

26. Favorite dad in Dream Daddies?

While I’ve never played the game,the most physically attractive one to me is the redheaded bear. Mostly becauseanyone else who might be physically attractive to me ruins the effect with amustache (THEY HAVEN’T BEEN STYLISH SINCE THE 70s, AND EVEN THEN THEY LOOKEDSTUPID!) or by being unrealistically sculpted (and I am *not* into that; I likemy men to look like they actually exist in the real world).

27. Tell me a random fact about yourself.

I have, like, over 20 neckties leftover from my mission days. I hardly ever use them anymore because I loathedressing up … but I have used them for some fun with other guys, and hope I getto do so again, soon.

28. Do you own any Pride flags/merch?

Just the rainbow bracelets picturedabove … and also a pair of rainbow socks, though those were actually procuredfor (not by) me … so I could officiate a *straight* couple’s marriage,ironically.

29. Have you ever been to a Pride Parade?

I’ve been to three. The first twowere … alright, I guess. Like, it was exciting to go to something so openlyqueer—so loud and proud—the first time (even if I had to hurry home for churchstuff for my little brother’s mission homecoming … let me tell you, that was a dayof extremes). And fun to go with my then boyfriend for the second.But … I dunno … There was a big crowd, and a lot of noise and heat (what withit being the middle of June). Introverted ol’ me wanted to go home—or at leastsomeplace quiet an cool—after about an hour, because the novelty had worn offby then.

The third, however …I was visiting my aunt in Washington D.C. That Sunday morning, we were walking tosome of the Smithsonian museums when we just happened, entirely by accident, tocross paths with the advancing Pride Parade. So we stopped and watched it for,like, half an hour … I suppose it was more of a March than a Parade,technically, which might be why it resonated with me more than the other twohad. But all the same …Here’s more on that event: http://jkl-fff.tumblr.com/post/161753611614/dc-pride

30. Any advice to someone who isn’t out, or who is exploringthemselves?

Two things: Go with what feels right for you. Your labels might or might not change, butyour understanding of what they mean for you definitely will develop and deepenover time (this is part of what “gender is fluid” means; it isn’t fixed and unchangeable,because *your identity* is neither fixed nor unchangeable). Be truthful enough withyourself to let it happen. Because in the end, the only wrong answer … is adishonest one.

Also, learn as much sympathy, empathy, compassion, and compersion as you canfrom your negative experiences. Like, it is inevitable that you will suffer inlife, so learn how to be aware of and kind towards the suffering of others.Exclusionists absolutely disgust me, because after suffering discrimination andoppression … they decide to put others through the same kind of needless pain.Gods above, life is hard enough as it is, so don’t go out of your way to makeit harder for others. Let your negative experiences motivate you to make sureno one else has to go through such bullshit ever again.

Thanks again! These were a lot of fun!

[zukadiary]

Arch of Triumph / Gato Bonito!! ~ Snow Troupe 2018

I feel a bit weird writing this up after only day 2 of the run, because I’m sure the troupe is still very much warming up... but this is when I happened to be here. Yukigumi fan life has not been ideal for me since Chigi’s retirement and this was BALM FOR THE WOUNDS in unexpected ways. Beware of spoilers.

Arch of Triumph

I happen to really like the original version of this show (from back when Tom was Yukigumi’s actual top star), but despite that the primary emotion I felt re: this show choice, as a Daimon fan who has to travel 7000 miles to see her, was saltiness at the stolen lead. I anticipated suffering through this and prayed that Fujii-sensei would carry the experience for me entirely, so I was truly taken aback by how much I loved Gaisenmon. 

There is a pretty long summary on the Takawiki page, and the original is also available from TIP with subtitles.

Just objectively as a show, it’s so beautiful, and it’s beautiful in ways that I didn’t know about at all because you can’t see them on the recording. It’s a dark story and the set is kept fairly dark as well, so all the meticulously colored lights and gobos and gorgeous rain effects dissolve into unintelligible black fuzz on an 18-year-old Sky Stage video. From the second floor you can also appreciate the incredible fluidity of the set rotations and scene changes along with the amazing choreography, of which there is A LOT. It’s a really impressive feat of direction; I am (despite my Takarazuka-related fervor) not a well-versed technical theater person at all and the artistry of it still struck me as something really special. The music is also gorgeous; it’s a very moving show, but I don’t like the main characters as people enough to cry from the culmination of the story... however, the reprise of main song, delivered in beautiful powerful troupe harmony as the curtain fell, murdered me, and I burst into tears on shonichi.

My main worry, especially considering that we have a guest lead and I adore Yukigumi as a whole with all my heart, was that it’s a very top-heavy show. Yesterday I was SO pleasantly surprised at how well-balanced it felt compared to my expectations; today, unfortunately, I felt the same from my vantage point but also realized it will probably feel just as top-heavy as the original on DVD. A sizable portion of the other main players’ stage time comes from beautiful but wordless dance scenes. But despite the light usage of most of the troupe I actually felt better than I did watching Robespierre. Everyone may be on stage less, but I felt like their characters were more lovingly crafted and very distinct from each other even with the simplest backstories. 

My two biggest gripes about Tom swooping in are 1) they often like to pretend she is still 25 which she is distinctly not and 2) in what I’ve seen recently I felt like she and the troupe she’s borrowed were acting separately from each other. I think a big reason why Gaisenmon worked for me is neither of those things applied. While there were a few insertions to balance the stage time a little better, the show is largely the same as the original, yet there is nothing in it that suggests Ravic—a surgeon who escaped Germany as the Nazis came into power—is any specific age, and he works at any age... specifically, even a large age difference between Ravic and Joan is totally reasonable and believable. Against the chaotic backdrop of refugee-laden pre-war Paris, an older doctor and a younger aspiring actress could absolutely meet and fall in love. Tom also meshed with the troupe a lot better than I expected. There’s no way to sugarcoat how shot her singing voice is, but damn the woman can act, and her otokoyaku mannerisms (stage kisses in particular) definitely show her long years of practice. 

Kiichan slayed, I thought she was even better than Tsukikage Hitomi. Joan is a REALLY HARD role; she’s practical out of necessity but a bit frivolous at heart, and she’s in love but also struggles to differentiate between actual love and the fear of being alone in an increasingly dangerous world. It doesn’t sound like it in writing but in execution it’s really easy for her to come off as weak, clingy, and annoying, when she’s actually a very nuanced character. Kiichan hit all the right notes, she didn’t appear intimidated at all by Tom, and even their romance seemed totally natural for the aforementioned reasons. Her sudden lovesickness could have been so one-note but I felt the tinge of anxiety behind it throughout the whole show, and I was so impressed by that. There is a scene of misunderstanding between Joan and Ravic at a cafe that in a way triggers the unfortunate events that occur thereafter, and it’s gut-wrenching, especially on a second viewing when you can watch it unfold with the knowledge of what’s coming. Her death scene is also extremely intense.

Salty as I am, I LOVE the role of Boris for Daimon. I’ve been feeling like I’ll explode if I have to see her do another sad French play, but after watching this somehow it wound up exempt. The story is heavy and all of the characters are struggling, but amidst the turmoil Boris is a calming presence, refreshingly level-headed and quite positive in a lot of ways (EDIT: in chatting in the comments the words I wanted but couldn’t find at 3am came out: he’s definitely got a cynical edge to him as well, but it was kind of like his cynical view of the world freed him up emotionally to be quietly supportive of the other characters’ problems... I think that’s what I mean by positive). And I can’t even express HOW LOVELY it was to see Daimon play THAT CHARACTER for a change, how fulfilling not to just watch her suffer for an hour and a half. Boris is in the story himself but also the narrator. In the story bits, he’s cool and reliable and there’s a really heartwarming sense of purity in the way he freely shows his emotions. Daimon seems to enjoy over the top acting just fine, but it’s her roles that rely on subtle facial expressions and body language that absolutely kill me—this was the latter. In the narration bits, she weaves an intricate tapestry with her voice. As I said every detail of the direction is intentional and beautiful, but so much of the mood also comes from the emotion in Daimon’s singing, not only in the actual songs (one of which she sang in probably incorrectly but nonetheless tantalizingly pronounced French, ugh ♥), but also particularly when she hums background tunes as other bits of action are taking place. She barely moves and her voice is so soft and yet STILL it reverberates throughout the entire theater somehow, like it flutters into every corner. And she was so beautiful, she worked the hell out of some costumes that definitely wouldn’t be flattering on everyone. I’m TEARING UP right now, my heart is so full. 

Here’s where things get bit eh for some people and downright unfortunate for others. Saki and Shou barely had anything to do, although I understand why they were relegated to those roles versus the Aasa, Hitoko, Kari group which although comprised of very distinct characters still felt like a single unit in a way. After a bit of prologue choreography Saki doesn’t show up until past the halfway point. She’s Henri, the handsome but creepy and possessive movie producer who lands Joan some acting jobs and then also shoots her in a fit of jealousy. She really only has two notable short scenes toward the end, when Henri first tries to coerce Joan into staying with him and then comes to Ravic pleading for her life after shooting her. Shou is a sexy doctor who talks on the phone sometimes. 

The Aasa/Hitoko/Kari group, however—and, tangentially, Asu, Manaharu, Michiru, Kiwa, and Agata Sen—shone more than I expected remembering the original group (our legendary Yukigumi 3兄弟 Touko/Komu/Naruse Kouki). While they also only had a few scenes to themselves, those scenes were some of my favorites, and they’re the ones who got to decorate the outskirts of the other scenes’ action with beautiful dancing. Aasa is the only one whose role I’d call a step back from Robespierre, but only because she was my Robespierre MVP, and she was still wonderful as the more subdued Jaime. I felt distinct forward momentum from everyone else. Hitoko was absolutely adorable and injected way more into Rosenfeld than Komu did (which I can say even with the ultimate bias on my side), and Kari was truly outstanding, I could melt just looking at her and I’m so glad she landed a role with that kind of prominence. The whole Hotel International group just had so much humanity. 

Final shout outs go to Niwa who I love unconditionally in every role she plays but particularly here for a) A+ slimy awful Gestapo officer and b) the novelty of Kouju Tatsuki squeeing OMG YOU WERE KEN-2 IN THE ORIGINAL AND NOW YOU’RE SCHNEIDER?! in the talk show; and Miho Keiko who I was SURE they stuffed into Gaisenmon because Fujii-sensei demanded her presence in his show as usual, leaving me quite dumbfounded when she wasn’t in Gato Bonito at all. It wasn’t a role that one of our many boss beautiful perfect upperclassmen musumeyaku couldn’t have done, but nonetheless her presence leant some more gravitas to the show in addition to balancing out Tom a bit.

Gato Bonito!! had the opposite effect on me initially. I expected to dislike Gaisenmon and it wowed me, and then it wowed me twice over because that feeling of your expectations being so far exceeded is wonderful. Meanwhile I’ve been laying in bed at night screaming DAISUKEEEEEEEE into the darkness for months, praying he’d deliver me a perfect trilogy of HOT EYES!!, Santé!!, and now THIS!! (boy he loves double exclamation points doesn’t he). 

Well, it sure wasn’t HOT EYES. But in retrospect, that’s a damn high bar. After watching Gato Bonito today with my expectations in a reasonable place, I liked it more... especially when I think about how SUPER VOYAGER was everything I never want to see in a revue ever again tied up in one neat package, and this, in contrast, was a lot of things I want to see very much.

From the start I liked or loved all of the scenes individually, but something about the show as a whole didn’t come together for me, and after two viewings I think I have some idea of why. The sets and backdrops were off for me, in a way that I did not think could have such a large effect on the show’s overall vibe. Most revues will have a big eye-popping scene, then they’ll close the curtain and have people dance in front of it for a short transition, then open it again to another eye-popping scene. There’s a nice rise-climax-break-repeat flow. But there were so many scenes in Gato Bonito where they’d drop a curtain down, have a dance in front of it, then drop A DIFFERENT THING down and have a dance in front of that, and I just felt like I was being constantly led toward a climax that never came. When they did open up the whole stage I found the sets really spread out and airy, such that it felt as if no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t fill the stage with enough people. They were also FLAT, like literally flat on the floor, not enough gradated pieces with people standing atop them to fill the back as well as the ground. I might feel differently when I watch it from the first floor, but for now I think some pretty small adjustments could have given it overall more impact.

Also, WAAAAAYYYY too many LITERAL CATS for my taste.

THAT SAID, boy this was SO MUCH of what I love to see out of Daimon. It was hot and extra and the music was amazing and she got to stand there making these burning faces and do TRULY UNFATHOMABLY STUPID THINGS WITH HER VOICE and flamenco and tango and all that jazz. Everyone was melting pile of orange goo no thanks to the weather and the insufficient air conditioning, but other than that there were even enough good costumes to balance out those ruffle abominations (you know the ones) that of course showed up a bit. Saki was ON FIRE, I know I said I was tired of riding the Saki coaster but oops here we go up another hill. They made up for shafting her in Gaisenmon with a loooooot of juicy revue time. She’s gotten so good at emoting through her dance, she was just dynamic and sexy and 150% energy from start to finish. Kiichan has a little ways to go to catch up with everyone in her Latin dancing but there was already a really noticeable improvement between shonichi and today. 

Highlights:

Argentine tango to Yo Soy Maria ft. Daimon singing in Spanish, guessing by the lack of bedazzling on the suits that that was the ANJU-sensei scene. When the curtain opened on all the otokoyaku just mingling in the dark smoky background it PHYSICALLY HURT (it also began with all our boss beautiful perfect upperclassmen musumeyaku in slinky dresses)

There’s a scene with Saki, Shou, Aasa, and Hitoko taking turns grinding on Daimon in the world’s tackiest bodysuits, but there was something so inexplicably hot about the drag + otokoyaku hair despite the melting orange goo and poor Saki and Aasa absolutely drowning in their own sweat

The chuuzume starts with a conga line across the ginkyou, and EVERY PERSON IN THE TROUPE comes out in single file in rank order, it was A LOT for my Yukigumi-loving heart

Kiichan gets to do stuff, Daisuke is aware we have a top musumeyaku which is apparently a challenge for some people

Daimon enters from the back of the first floor singing Kuroneko no Tango at one point and when she reaches the stage there’s a daily “ad lib” (in quotes because I’m sure she’s already written them all down and rehearsed them ad nauseam), but her ad libs are so dumb I love her

ASU GOT A WHOLE SONG

I forgot to pay close enough attention through the applause today to grab the exact words, but I’m like 90% sure the final lyrics as Daimon is descending the stairs in the parade are something she also referenced in her +act interview right when she became top (I don’t have the magazine on me but I translated it as “we can live through today for the sake of tomorrow and for the sake of living tomorrow we can stand firmly right here today”). She was talking about the “soul of flamenco” and that being something that turned her whole outlook around during Don Juan, so I thought it was REALLY SWEET they threw that in as a nod to her continuing to grow. Haha nope, after 4 viewings I'm sure I was wrong, but I like my idea better Hankyu pls hire me

Did I mention her dumb stupid voice? I know Robespierre was literally written for her by a Broadway composer but for me there was no comparison; in both acts it danced and changed and filled the theater in ways that don’t seem like they should be physically possible. Like this is the ????th time I’ve seen Daimon live and I was still just absolutely slain by all the heretofore unheard things her voice can apparently do. 

I’m whole and healed and so surprised and delighted I didn’t have to wait till 2019 for that to happen.