#so to balance it out the red is a bit dull and the blue and purple are more saturated than the red

[woolydemon]

actually I want to share the gifs I made out of this too

uhhhhh. i'd copy me too

ytube link

[adobe-outdesign]

Could you review the shiny forms of regirock/ice/steel? The change from 2D to 3D did regice so dirty

Regirock: Regirock's shiny is pretty good! Swapping out the light gray for a sandstone-esq brown looks good as it compliments the warm tones of the orange accents and yellow eyes, and it makes sense thematically. I wouldn't have minded them tweaking the other colors a bit more just to go the extra mile, but eh, no big deal seeing as the rest of it's plenty distinct and the whole palette still works together.

Regice: An unfortunate victim of sprite colors shifting; originally, regular Regice was a very dull slate blue, almost gray, and the shiny was bright cyan blue.

Come BW's sprites, and they changed the regular sprite to be more accurate... without changing the shiny to actually retain some contrast compared to the original (this happened a lot—Gengar is another example). Then 3D models came along and now "shiny" Regice is near-indistinguishable from regular Regice.

The obvious solution would be to flip the shinies again—make shiny Regice the same color as the OG Regice sprite. You could also make it an icy white or just... you know, literally anything other than this.

Registeel: Shiny Registeel is at least easy to distinguish from the original, with a light minty-ish aqua color in place of the regular gray. I don't hate it, but I don't really love it, either—I feel like the mint doesn't really go with the red that well, and too much attention is being brought to the outside, flipping the original focus (with all of the attention being brought to the inside due to the darker gray). Also, I don't think the mint works very well thematically; it doesn't read as metal or steel so much as like, 1970s plastic.

I think a better choice would've been to pick out a more metallic color—gold, copper, etc. That would've made a bit more sense thematically and might have helped the balancing issues as well. Still, this one isn't awful—you can at least tell it's shiny, which is more than I can say for poor Regice up there.

Overall: Regirock's shiny is really good. Registeel's is okay but doesn't make a whole lot of sense for the 'mon, and Regice is a straight-up travesty.

[hellboys]

I LOVE your colouring!!! do you have a psd / tutorial?

wow thank you so much!! and because you asked so kindly here's a simple tutorial on how i color gifs 💜

(to save on time i won't be showing how to create a gif or how to sharpen them)

CREATE YOUR GIF BASE

first things first is to create your gif and sharpen it to your liking. i'm using the latest version of photoshop just so you know

2. LEVELS LAYER

when coloring, i immediately start with a levels layer. obviously these settings will differ depending on the scene you're giffing. however, my goal is to balance the colors so that the highlights and shadows aren't color tinted. ultimately i want the whites to be white and not off-white - and i want the blacks to be evenly black.

this scene is already pretty bright so i'm not going to lighten it in the RGB channel. instead, i want to wash out the yellow in the whites with the blue channel.

when increasing the blue highlights, the shadows will become blue tinted as well so its important to balance the shadows by dragging that far left dial inwards

repeat that process with the green and red color channels until your satisfied

also important to note that you want your skin tones to be even, meaning not too green/yellow and not too red/blue. play around with the individual channels until you find that sweet spot

⭐ brighten your scene in the RGB channel if needed!

3. SELECTIVE COLOR LAYER 1

next is to saturate the reds in the scene and further dull the yellows with a 'selective color' layer

at first your gif will appear to be very discolored. you'll want to go to the 'opacity' tab in the 'layers' channel and set the percentage to 30% for this layer. like so ↴

4. SELECTIVE COLOR LAYER 2

time for the second selective color layer. this time the opacity will stay at 100%

again, just adding saturation to the reds and pinks and dulling out the yellows

i added a bit to the blacks to darken the shadows more

5. VIBRANCE LAYER

this is an optional layer i sometimes add when a gif is lacking in color. in this case it definitely needed it

END NOTES!

i just want to add that i don't always color my gifs this way. it changes with every scene i work on. a lot of the time my colorings are more complex and i end up with like 10+ layers. i wanted to keep this simple. hopefully it helped you a bit. but if you're looking for a more specific tutorial, please feel free to send me another ask 🩷

[agentnico]

Conclave (2024) review

This Pope is dope!

Plot: Cardinal Lawrence is tasked with one of the world's most secretive and ancient events - leading the selection of a new pope. Surrounded by powerful religious leaders in the halls of the Vatican, he soon uncovers a trail of deep secrets that could shake the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church.

Since his stellar 2022 adaptation of All Quiet on the Western Front that bagged him a Best International Feature Academy Award, Edward Berger showcased himself as a director to keep an eye out for. I did not expect him to be back so quickly, yet here we are with Conclave, and goodness we he may have yet another awards contender on his hands. This movie is all about lies, deception, manipulation and strategy, all encapsulated in this global scale game of chess. From the offset one may question how interesting a movie about a bunch of cardinals picking the next Pope could be. Like it’s just a bunch of men in red caps sitting and talking. But believe me this is far from a boring tale, as Berger manages to turn this intimate and supposedly-holy ritual into a thrilling and tense experience that echoes the scheming, backstabbing nature and intrigue of something like Game of Thrones whilst also feeling strikingly relevant. I’m not saying this thing is full of sex and blood, but truly this movie about priests gossiping is extremely entertaining and engaging. Whenever the ballot result was being announced after every vote, I’m not going to lie, and I hate using this term, I was at the edge of my seat, wondering who the next front runner was.

Part of me wishes this took a Death of Stalin approach with all these cardinals trying to one up each other to get to the top, as there is so much comedy potential in that. However this movie plays it mostly straight, yet it does still manage to find some humour in the interactions, with especially one of the most diabolical vape hits of all time, and I don’t just mean in cinema history. Truly though this is a really well made piece of drama, and also fantastically shot, as Berger and his crew manage to turn the Vatican into a highly cinematic location, with even a small behind-the-scene auditorium darkened in a way that only the red of the cardinals clothing and the turquoise blue seats are highlighted, which I must say was a phenomenal minimalistic approach. Also a bird’s eye sequence of the cardinals holding white umbrellas and walking past a fountain - chef’s kiss! Huge shout out to Volker Bertelmann’s music score, as even though I think his work on All Quiet on the Western Front was overrated and dull, here his style works much better, with his score dominating a specific sound made by a string chamber orchestra, that mirrored the movie’s constant theme of being “stuck”.

With this cast you already expected high class performances, but truly they are great. Elegant, crafty, poised, but never shy of getting emotional when needed, Ralph Fiennes abilities of balance continue to impress me with how he invests in making a good character. It’s a reserved yet powerful performance. Stanley Tucci goes a bit more theatrical, his character the voice of the "liberal" side as his aggressions and passions are artfully delivered in a manner fit for the stage to offset Fiennes' calmer tones. John Lithgow is almost a mix of the two extremes, holding his usual support role that keeps so many of the leading sides held and providing perhaps most of the engaging mystery element in the search for the truth. Isabella Rossellini is unfortunately a tad under-used, though she does get one scene to deliver that powerful note that the Oscars would love to reference should she be nominated. Lucian Msamati, Sergio Castellitto and Carlos Diehz also make notable turns as the other contenders for the Pope role, all of whom get their moments to shine.

In my eyes Conclave is a stunning piece of work. It manages to take what one would assume as such a simple premise, yet manages to entangle it with so many threads of twists and turns, as such turning a political and religious drama into a true mystery thriller, with Fiennes character acting more so as a detective rather than a leader of the conclave. Partner that with the great acting, sublime cinematography and a slow but engaging pace with a script filled with wit and realism, and we have ourselves one hell of a motion picture!

Overall score: 8/10

[twst-drabbles]

Jack 12

Summary: You have a little stalker tailing you after you left the cemetery. The little creature, the church grim, the spirit of fog, follows you to keep you safe.

(Requests are still open. Two more slots! Get that angst request out. Anyways, have this silly idea that entered my head at the ungodly hours of the night and dawn.)

The forest was a difficult thing to traverse for a spirit as small as Jack. At the start, he was born on a pleasant hillside place by a lake, and his next home was in a clear cut cemetery. Both of these places didn’t have the confusing cluster of tress and roots with paths narrow and inconsistent. It’s easier for Jack to become a cloud of fog, but he never manages to stick the landing quite right.

So, what is a creature such as he doing in a place that he was clearly not familiar with? Well, simply put, Jack had a goal. And said goal was walking further and further away from him with the greatest of ease, with five little plant nymphs that were having even easier time keeping up.

A human’s senses are dulled to the sounds of nature around them. A farmer would have an easier time knowing what’s off and what’s not, but even that doesn’t compare to the razor sharp instincts of animals and magical pets. Jack’s ears were raised, his tail still and puffed. The plant nymphs, especially the smaller red and blue one, were constantly looking around themselves.

The deeper you went, the softer and more muffled the noises of nature became, but they were never silenced. No, they blended. Tweets of birds warbled out into rushes of leaves. The crack of a rotted bark piece echoed into the breath of a flame.

As the sounds became nothing more than a messy thrum of its former self, the trees and roots became more and more twisted. Natural juts of strong roots began to resemble gnarled grips into the ground, spiraling and digging into the dirt as though trying to become its parasite. The leaves, as you walked deeper in, grew bigger than the last until they all consumed the last of the sun’s rays.

The forest was quiet. The forest was hungry. And yet, you and your little group kept walking in deeper, as if you knew your goal was somewhere beyond.

Jack’s chest huffed and puffed, but something kept him from making any noise. Perhaps he knew if he was too loud, he’ll catch the attention of something. He dispersed his form into fog once more, looping under a large root to close the distance, but not quite enough to catch your or the plant’s attention.

However, when he solidified once more, his foot got caught on a stray rock. He didn’t yelp, but something gurgled in his throat. He rolled forward when he landed on the ground. Little Jack did not catch his balance in time, for he crashed right into your ankle.

Only then was there pure silence. The lingering echoes all held their breathes.

Then you sighed and corroded noise returned, just the slightest bit more distinguishable than before. You reached down and scooped up Jack, who was trying to shake dirt from his eyes.

“I was wondering who was following us. What are you doing all the way out here? Didn’t you want to stay in the garden we left behind?”

The abandoned cemetery was nothing short of a paradise of glorious flowers and lush nature. Not even a flood would be able to wash away the land Jack wanted to protect. But…

Well, the flowers you planted were beautiful. The glossy leaves and sturdy stems were perfect for Jack to run through. The headstones and those that sleep no longer have to worry about being left alone. Nature has taken this place, as as such, Jack no longer has to linger. He can leave it behind, knowing it won’t simply be taken by the floods.

That’s why he chased you.

But Jack was a prideful little critter. His face pinched up, huffing out as though that will help him regain his cool. The plant nymphs, all looking up to you, knew better. And so did you.

Either way, when Jack puffed himself onto you shoulder, you didn’t fight it. Though the red and blue plant nymphs certainly squeaked a complaint out.

“Well, I guess we have a new addition. Welcome, Jack.”

[hellcheer-heaven]

Budding - 90s Pregnant Hellcheer

Beard Eddie photo by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Click here for the post Thanks for giving me the okay for using your photo edit.

Thank you @a-strange-inkling for proofreading the beginning stages of this short fic. Also please check out both creators listed here.

Waking up early in the morning came naturally to Eddie, it was pretty much a part of himself like the curly locks on his head; and currently the dark hairs sprouting from his face. He looked over at the sleeping woman, hair draped along her shoulders and face so at peace. Chrissy has been getting some much needed rest lately for the sake of her health and for the developing little one in her womb. There was a lovely sort of glow that surrounded her no matter where she went. Even on the days when she felt and proclaimed that she looked like a terrible mess, Eddie reassured her that nothing would dull her sparkle.

It was another quiet, lazy Saturday in their neighborhood. Most of their neighbors were still asleep, say for a few early birds that wanted to get their steps in before breakfast. Eddie occupied himself with whisking raw eggs and adding just a bit of milk to give it that fluffy texture that Chrissy liked. He practically tore open the entire package of bacon, nearly loosing a few stragglers, but thankfully his lightening fast reflexes caught the flying pork. The coffee maker bubbled as he placed the large glass container beneath the dispenser. Before he could turn on the stove, Chrissy’s sudden gasp caused him to rush to the room.

“PleasebeokayPleasebeokayPleasebeokay!” His mind begged. Eddie nearly lost his balance as he ran down the carpeted hallway before catching himself, firmly planting his feet onto the ground. “Chrissy? Baby? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the emergency room?!”

Chrissy’s back faced him, her blue eyes gazing into the mirror with quite the wide eyed stare. “Eddie… I…”

Eddie was afraid something absolutely terrible must have happened, but he had to take a deep breath. “Y-Yes? What is it?”

She slowly turned around, something was quite different with her. Aside from her bump, there was also the newly developed pair of breasts protruding out from Eddie’s nice dress shirt.

She kept herself covered, feeling incredibly embarrassed at how much skin was showing, “Eddie my boobs got bigger!”

He gulped, his mind heavily chastising him for the thoughts that were appearing. He had to think of something, anything to say to his beloved wife.

His face felt so hot and red, “Y-Yeah… yeah they did.”

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other semi to fully nude before. In her current state, this was vastly different than what she or he were used to. They both stared, flabbergasted at the single or possible double cup size increase.

Eddie hurried to readjust his vision, “How do you feel Chrissy?”

Her fingers gently felt along her budding skin, “I feel weird.”

“Do you have to go to the hospital?”

She gave him a reassuring smile, it gave him some relief of his anxiety. “No I’m fine. I just… never really thought they would grow that much.” She faced her reflection, shrugging off the shirt to get a closer look. “It’s just, I look so different.”

Eddie placed a loving hand to her shoulder, she held onto it sweetly. He pecked the top of her head, “Good different or bad different?”

She sighed, “I don’t know. I just… never really imagined that I would actually get big breasts.” Chrissy winced slightly when she held up the tender bundles.

They felt and appeared so oddly shaped to her. Then again having her abdomen sticking out from her small frame was still so unusual to see. Chrissy was always so used to having the body that she had always had: Petite with muscle and a bit of body fat. Nothing out of the ordinary for some people, but the things that her mother said did a number on her self esteem, self image, and self worth. Always making her believe that she was ugly and unattractive in her childhood and especially during adolescence.

Fat pig, string bean, baby face, rabbit teeth, body of a child, too quiet, not lady like, and so much more.

Even when her body began to naturally change during puberty and now during pregnancy, her mother still made it her mission to make her life hell. It’s no wonder Chrissy and her darling husband found a house of their own some towns away from Hawkins.

Eddie moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, “Do they hurt?”

“A little bit.”

He nuzzled into her neck, his voice filled with concern, “Only a little?”

She carefully placed them back down, really considering how she truly felt, “Well, more than a little. They feel sensitive and sore. It’s like I’m going through puberty again, but now I have these and my stomach is…”

Eddie cradled her pretty belly, his warm palms tracing her lovely stretch marks. “You look beautiful Chrissy.”

The lump in her throat started to grow even more, “But I feel like a fat cow.” She shut her eyes tightly, “And I look like one too!”

Eddie just wanted to hug her as tightly as he could, but all he could do was gently wrap his arms around her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You’re beautiful Chrissy, no matter what your brain tries to tell you. You’re the most courageous, amazing, and beautiful woman in the whole world.”

She swiped her teary eyes with the backs of her hands, “I wish I could believe that Eddie!”

Eddie turned her around and pecked her face, sweetly and generously giving her as many pecks he could give her until the tiniest smile pulled at her cotton candy colored lips. She softly cooed his name, her tears forming from self loathing to affectionate. She couldn’t prevent her giggles from tumbling out, the scruff tickling her neck as he bent down. Chrissy nibbled her lower lip, watching the way his bubblegum pink mouth planted more and more upon her body. Slowly and earnestly along her breasts, looking up to gauge her reaction: Chrissy was all smiles, batting her eyelashes at him.

She ran her fingers through his curls, “Eddie, that feels really nice. It kinda tickles a little.”

He closed his eyes, his hands caressing the sides of her body as his lips followed the shape of her torso. Wanting to follow every stretch mark with his fingers and tongue, but she was vulnerable and that wouldn’t be fair to her. Instead he placed the side of his face along her bump, breathing lightly as the warm flesh heated his cheek. Eddie looked up and still could see the sunshine smile of his Spring Goddess, her flower bed and fruits growing healthily.

Chrissy cradled his sweet, hairy face, rubbing the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs. His lips proceeded to return back up until their mouths collided, that’s when he heard it again: Laughter. Her laughter was the most wonderful melody that he could ever hear. No amount of string bending, shredding, or tapping would ever compare. They walked over to the bed, and he helped her onto her back, making sure that her pillows were aligned the way they were supposed to be for both support and comfort.

Chrissy curled her pointer finger, wanting a little more love; boy did he deliver. Kisses, kisses, and more kisses. She then began to whimper, the sensitive sensation returning to her breasts once more. Eddie was careful to not put any kind of weight on her, laying next to her and kissing her hand.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She thought for a moment, tapping her fingers upon the mattress to find her answer. What did the moms back in Hawkins suggest during this time? A gentle massage with massage oil was the way to go according to them. He smiled, soon returning with a jar of oil that Mrs. Sinclair, Wheeler, Byers, and Henderson swore by. Thank god for their wisdom and experience, because the last person Chrissy would ever turn to regarding motherhood was her own mom.

They sat there for a moment, the two of them looking back and forth at the jar and her chest.

He gulped nervously, “So… um…”

“I guess you can start,” Chrissy mentioned, still a bit weirded out as well; honestly that makes two of them.

He swallowed, “Y-Yeah. Yup, I’m gonna massage your ti- breasts.” He sighed slowly through his nostrils, “Holy shit her tits are huge. So fucking soft and squishy. Our baby is so lucky.”

She nodded, gulping down as well, “Yeah, you’re gonna touch them.” She proceeded to open the dress shirt, blushing a bit at the sight. “God I feel like a cow! Jesus my tits look like someone sewed cantaloupes in me. Please don’t turn into watermelons! Please!”

Eddie broke the silence, it was probably the stupidest thing he’s said in a while, but he really needed to know. “So I’m not going to squeeze all of your milk out, right?”

Chrissy held his hand, showing him a wonderful grin and a warm chuckle, “No Eddie, my milk isn’t going to come out.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

She held his worried face, “You won’t hurt me, you never have.”

Eddie grinned, moving his face to kiss her palm before warming up the oil in his hands. He could feel the more immature part of his brain telling him to do things to her chest. The rest of his mind continued to scold him before locking up that area. With all distractions put aside, he could then focus on her needs. His tattooed hands and fingers slowly touched the heaping bundles of flesh, following the shape in precise circles. Starting with both and then transitioning to each one individually with his talented hands. Chrissy observed how those inked appendages motioned along her breasts, gazing through her lashes and following the way he very gently sculpted her.

She giggled, “Eddie, I really like that. Ooh, you’re so gentle. I love how sweet you are.”

He gave her a playful wink, “Sweet as honey baby girl.” He stopped momentarily when she softly gasped, his worrying thoughts returning in a flash, “Are you okay?”

“Mmhm, that just felt really, really good.”

His eyes looked between her face and body, “Are you gonna… you know?”

Her brows rose up, nodding slowly and waiting patiently for him to continue. She knew the word, but still wanted to hear it from him, “Am I going to what?”

His fingers started to slowly release her, his bashful smile evidently displayed, “Squirt milk?”

Close enough.

He couldn’t help but hide his face when she started to laugh, very loudly actually. When her giggle fit was over, Chrissy moved his hands aside and pecked the thorn surrounded rose tattoo on the back of one hand.

She placed a curly lock behind his ear, “I’m sorry Eddie, that was just really funny. It’s lactate, baby. That’s the word you’re looking for.” Chrissy held up her bosoms, giving them a gentle squeeze, “And no the doctor said it’ll be a while before that happens. Actually they could end up getting larger.”

“Really?” He sounded a little hopeful, something that Chrissy slyly smirked at to which Eddie changed his tone. “I mean… um… that sucks.”

“Pun intended Eddie?”

He gave her a cute pout before smirking himself, “Geez Chrissy, you’re really putting me between a rock and a hard place.”

Chrissy snickered, “Well I’m sure resting your head on something soft might ease the tension.”

Was she being serious or just joking? Either way he was pleased knowing that she was happy, comfortable, and safe. They hardly said anything for the remainder of the morning as he commenced with massaging her. Nothing much had to be said, their smiles were enough. The gentle touches were enough. Their kisses were enough.

They were enough.

[narrans]

The Orion's Daughter : To Lands Beyond | Chapter Seven : Forms and Family Names

**~~~~~**

Chapter Seven | Forms and Family Names

**~~~~~**

I laid back against the grass and stared up at the bright blue and seemingly endless sky. I was completely out of breath. I closed my eyes and let myself relax just for a moment. I knew Steele would have me at it again in just a moment, but I decided to enjoy this moment with every fiber of my being.

The air has turned from the burning of the warm months to those of change. Already, the leaves started to fade from green to dozens of other shades of reds, browns, and golden oranges. The promise of the cold months was on the horizon. Still, it didn’t stop the blazing sun from baking the ground, and me with it.

As I laid on the ground, I felt my muscles twitching and aching, the pain washing over me like waves in the ocean. One moment, it was a dull ache, and the next it might be a harsh pinch or throb.

Still, I would not change it for anything.

For these past few moons, Steele has been putting me under every test imaginable. If I was not learning common script and letters with Mehlein, I was training and learning with Steele. His knowledge of practically everything under the sun made him such an asset to me. I felt like I could spend a thousand years with him and still not know everything there was to know.

We started with different histories of the land and significant events in history, both from his land and my own. He taught me about some of the great wars as well as some of the natural disasters that occurred, as well as how to combat the tragedy and restore balance.

It was something he was very insistent and passionate about – balance.

He talked about how there was a give and take in this and every world beyond the stars, which really made me think about what else could be out there. The possibility of worlds like ours but so different at the same time was mind numbing, and I loved it.

Next, he taught me about strategies using games and scenarios. I knew it was to grow my mind, but this is something I struggled with quite a bit when he first introduced the topic to me. The games were simple, but recently he started to make them harder. The games consisted of certain amounts of supplies and soldiers. I had to move them from one point to another without casualties, minimal supply use, and as fast as possible.

Over time, he would throw in different scenarios and tragedies. There would be natural disasters and realistic injuries I had to learn how to deal with. Sometimes, I had to divide my forces, and other times I needed to keep everyone together. I wasn’t always successful, especially in the beginning. However, a few moons of practicing and working through the different scenarios made the games a little easier. I was able to see patterns in how Steele worked, and I used them to my advantage.

When he realized I had picked up the patterns, he changed them, sadly leaving me in defeat once again – but I wasn’t going to give up.

We had a game later in the afternoon tomorrow, but now was not the time to worry about that. Right now, I focused on breathing and relaxing my body, forcing my mind to function. I knew that Steele would not let me rest for very long, but just because my body needed a rest didn’t mean that my mind needed a break.

Mentally, I was primed and ready to charge forward in my learning.

So, as I laid there, I went over the words I knew from Steele’s language. He had been teaching me intermittently, but the list of words I knew had increased tremendously.

Viyoo-en rhonor meant are you alright. Please was vandri. Mother was naterma. Thank you was bromidian. Stop was zhanth. Apologies, or I’m sorry, was ptiedier. There were other things like counting that I had gotten very good at, but only up to nineteen. The twenties were a bit harder for me for whatever reason. I needed to practice them more. I was nowhere near as good as my momma and I could only hope to catch up to her sooner than later, but, for now, I knew what I knew and that was enough.

After a few minutes longer, I heard Steele clear his throat, which was a clear indicator that it was time to get back to work.

“Terrilyn? Do you want to continue?” asked Steele. I heaved another breath before glancing up into Steele’s violet eyes. Something about them held a not-so-subtle amusement at my exhaustion. It took effort despite my protesting muscles, but I managed to get to my feet and once again took the correct stance in front of Steele, placing my right foot back and making sure most of my weight was on it. I kept my hands up, fists clenched the way he told me and didn’t tuck my thumbs in this time.

Steele leaned forward ever so slightly, his torso looming over me a bit, as he evaluated my form. His finger approached, but I didn’t shy away. I welcomed it. He carefully prodded my back, checking to see if my stance was able to withstand a gentle push from the tip of his finger. I could tell he needed a moment, and so I held that position.

Despite hours of training and the exhaustion of my body, I felt completely sound and determined. I was not going to bend or break - not after today. Another minute of evaluating and then Steele leaned back to his sitting position as I stood on the dirt mound.

“Good,” he complemented. “Now. First position.”

I fell into first position, letting my left foot sweep back as I kicked and lashed out with a back handed fist.

“Switch.”

The simple command made me spin on my heel to face behind me in the blink of an eye.

“Good. First, then third, then nine.”

The sequence was the one that started the fifteen-stance exercise that wore me out.

I spun on my heel once more, leaning on my back left while lashing out with a back fist from my closed right hand. I then lunged forward, punching out with my right hand followed by a kick. Ninth was tricky, but I was determined to get it this time. I spun on my heel and swung my left with a roundhouse kick. This time, I managed to stick the landing, but I was far from done.

Steele continued increasing the movements by two until I was up to seventeen when, as I sprung forward for a high front kick, I lost my balance and tripped down the hill, skidding my knees against the grass.

I laid there, once again, and stared at the sky.

I took a few deep breaths of the clean, wildflower smelling air, feeling the way my heart pounded and raced. The sequences were getting harder and faster, and I was definitely feeling each and every practice session that Steele and I had together.

After hearing Steele’s thoughtful chuckle, I saw his hand lower and rest right beside me.

“Care for a hand up?” Steele asked. I could hear the thoughtful caring as well as the amusement in his aged voice, and I welcomed it. Still, I was not ready to get back to it. I let out a puff of air and let it blow away one of the strands of my auburn hair that slipped out of the ponytail I put it in away from my face.

“If I sit up, do we have to get back to it immediately?” I asked. It felt like I needed to use all of the energy I had left to call up to Steele, making sure I spoke clearly. I knew in that moment that Steele felt completely conflicted. I saw the amusement and firm hand rise to tell me no, but the softer, gentler side rose up to meet it, and won.

“Very well. You do not need to start immediately. We can talk instead,” said Steele. Satisfied, I lifted my throbbing arm and rested my hand against his. I could feel his pulse against my fingertips, and I let his warmth, not the warmth of the day, spread through me. It somehow soothed my muscles and gave me new energy.

At least, it gave me enough energy to pull myself up onto his palm and lay with my back pressed against the side of his hand. He kept his hand there for me, unwavering, as I continued to catch my breath.

I looked back up into his features after a minute, my breath and heart finally under my control once again and nodded.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” I asked. I didn’t want there to be too much silence between us - not when he had so many things he needed to teach me.

“Well,” said Steele. He pulled his lips into an inquisitive purse off to the side as if in suspicious disbelief while his brow furrowed in contemplation. From where I was, I could see every all of the different smatterings of lightening dark blond and gray in his facial hair. “You could choose the topic, or I could talk of… eh… koonyardo vi… weak points on hands and limbs if you are in a tight spot.”

I felt excitement at that second option.

“Could you talk about the pressure points please?” I asked, remembering my manners this time. The last time I asked him to talk about something, I all but demanded it, shouting ‘that one that one’ and interrupting the other options. Steele smiled warmly, but I saw the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Say it in my tongue, and perhaps I will,” he stated. I knew he was going to tell me regardless, but it was the true effort he wanted to see out of me.

I liked that about him.

He didn’t care if I was right or perfect. He just asked that I try with as much effort as I could.

Sadly, my effort was going to be very little. Some of the words he wanted me to use were ones I just memorized, and I just knew that I was going to get the pronunciation wrong in so many ways.

“Ooofff… alright,” I said as I conjured the words from my currently muddled mind. “Sa… wait… no… um… oh, yeah. That’s it. Vandri, sabon… ke….”

Steele must’ve seen the bit of panic in my eyes and the hesitation in my stuttering words and took pity on my floundering because he simply chuckled thoughtfully, as a wise grandfather would do, before he stated the phrase in his language.

“Vandri, sabon ke’tzellel rraha snikrik tab-va f-veryon,” stated Steele, making sure to speak slowly and deliberately so that I could hear the pronunciation of each and every word.

“Vandri, sabon ke’tzellel rraha snikrik tab-va f-veryon?” I bit my lip and hoped that I had managed to do his language some kind of justice. Steele made his language sound so beautiful and effortless. Even when momma said it, she seemed so certain and was able to spit out the words with ease. She had spent more time with Steele, and I had a lot to catch up on, which is exactly what this exchange taught me.

Steele smiled and nodded.

“Very good,” he said. I felt my heart swell with joy as I saw the twinkle of pride in Steele’s violet eyes. “Do not forget to roll or flip the ‘r’ sound against your tongue and keep the ‘n’ sound softer to where you almost do not hear it.”

“I won’t forget,” I said firmly, repeating the words and rules over and over in my head and softly out loud so I committed it to memory. Steele smiled proudly again and waited patiently to see my eyes meet his before continuing.

“To do this, you need to sit on the heel of my hand to see the points I… eh… koonyardo vi… reef-fur to,” stated Steele.

“Refer?” I asked, hoping to help him just as much as he has helped me.

“Ah! Yes. Bromidian. Refer. Points I refer to,” said Steele. I nodded and hoisted myself up onto his hand and practically crawled onto the heel of his palm because my limbs were practically screaming in protest with every movement I made.

Once I made it, Steele began pointing to different fingers and explaining how to pinch and twist them to place someone into submission easily.

“You pinch the little one like this,” he said as he took his pinkie finger, curled it in toward his palm, and squeezed on the bunched, curled up finger. “Moving it like this is not normal and painful for the body. Then, bending the wrist back can bring an enemy to their knees.”

“I see,” I said.

“Good. Then, notice how your arm twists as you move,” said Steele, rotating his left arm for me to see as a demonstration. Steele continued to explain as he lowered his left arm and pointed to different spots on his arm and hand. “By grabbing the hand here and twisting along this line here, you can pry someone’s hand off of you and get them in a submissive stance.”

“So, I’m supposed to twist and push down like this?” I asked. Instantly, as I performed the motion Steele told me about, I felt a twisting pain shoot through my limb. I didn’t even twist very hard and yet knew this was a very strong power move to be used if someone tried grabbing me.

Steele continued for the next hour talking about different poses and maneuvers to use. One of them, which was really useful and simple, was anticipating someone lunging, snagging their wrist, pivoting, and then using their forward momentum and weight against them as you forced them to the ground and pinned them there.

The more he spoke, I saw that there was something in his eyes. I could not quite place the emotion. It almost looked reminiscent at times, but other moments it was sprinkled with pain and renewed knowledge.

The more Steele talked, the more I started to wonder whether or not he had explained these things before to someone else. With the ease of his explanations, I could only assume he had done this at least a few times before.

An unexpected pang hit me full on in the chest. All I could think of was all of the people Steele had told this knowledge to and how I wished that I could be learning things like this from my own father. I wondered about him for a moment.

Would my father know how to fight? Was he any good at fighting? Or was he more of a scholar. You could be one and the other, as Steele demonstrated every day from his expansive knowledge and his use of tactics and skill. Was he a smooth talker? A diplomat who could talk his way out of conflict?

As I wondered these things, another painful pang hit me and made my heart clench.

What did it matter wondering these things about him?

I would never see him.

I would never meet him.

What good did it do thinking about him and all of the things he failed to teach me when he left my momma?

I must’ve stopped paying attention just long enough for Steele to notice, because I felt his index finger reach up and brush against my shoulder tenderly.

“Terrilyn? Are you alright? Are you finished for the day?” asked Steele. I didn’t realize it, but I suddenly felt warm moisture at the corners of my eyes. Why was my vision blurry?

“Um… yeah… I mean… yes. Sorry. Or, um…. Ptiedier. I was just thinking about something. I was distracted. That was rude. I’m sorry,” I stammered, realizing only after a moment that I had thrown in an apology in his tongue. Steele, instead of accepting and continuing the lesson now that I was paying attention, unfolded and then refolded his legs to readjust his sitting position and lifted the hand that I was in so he could rest his arm against his knee.

Waves of concern seemed to emanate from him and wash over me, only giving me that compressed feeling in my chest more. My cheeks started to feel warm. Everything tingled. I wanted him to look away and continue with the lesson, but it somehow felt like everything came to a screeching halt with my mental wanderings.

After a few more moments, Steele did as I predicted and began to ask questions of his own.

“Thinking? About what?” Steele asked. That concern in his voice did not help that compressed feeling in my chest. I felt so cornered and vulnerable all at once, but it oddly didn’t make me feel helpless. It was like my momma was asking me a question – asking to know and to help rather than just for the sake of gathering information.

Somehow, someway, Steele felt my momentary hesitation or saw my internal conflict and, in his way, offered comfort. “Terrilyn, you do not have to tell me if you do not want to. Just… if I have done something to hurt or offend, I want to apologize.”

I felt my insides flip guiltily. It was not his fault, and he didn’t need to apologize. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and turned around to face Steele.

“No, don’t apologize. It isn’t your fault. I was just… thinking,” I said. My mouth felt dry like I stuffed cotton in my cheeks, but I felt some odd urge to talk about the thoughts rattling around in my head that led me on my mental tangent. I let the warmth from Steele’s palm spread through my body to give me the reassuring boost I needed to voice what I had kept in my mind and heart for so long.

“I was just thinking about… my dad.”

There was a silence after my statement that was filled only with the gentle breeze with the smell of warm flowers mingled with it. The words seemed to sink into Steele’s mind slowly, like water through one of his water filters, when his eyes narrowed and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I understand,” he said softly, his thunderous voice rumbling deep in his chest. “You did not know him?” I shook my head, glimpsing my auburn curls that managed to slip out of my ponytail as they fell into my face.

“No. He left before I got to know him. I don’t even have his family name to go find him,” I muttered, remembering my momma explaining this to me when I asked why our family names were different.

“Family name? What is yours?” asked Steele. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I don’t know why I felt embarrassed. Perhaps it was because I had not talked about it before with him or because it was a reminder of what I had been teased about for years of my life. I picked at the dirt under my nails for a moment before responding.

“Lun. It’s Terrilyn Lun, and my momma is Raina Toro,” I replied. “Lun comes from the time of day I was born, since it was at night, and because my father… didn’t give me his name.” Steele nodded slowly. I felt his hands trembling just beneath me. Was it because of age? Or was it from frustration and emotion?

One glance up into his violet eyes told me it was because of his emotions. He was obviously upset for me but was doing what he could to conceal and control his emotions as to not upset me.

He is so thoughtful that way.

“Ptiedier, Terrilyn. I did not know…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just how things are,” I said, forcing a bit of a smile onto my face as I gazed up at Steele’s concerned features, his expression wrinkling his crow’s feet by his eyes and furrowing his brow. “It’s just… I wish I knew more about him. I wish he taught me things the way you’re teaching me. I… don’t ask momma about him because I know it will upset her, but it doesn’t stop me from being curious and wanting to know.”

Steele readjusted his sitting position, being careful as I sat there on his palm, before a melancholy, curious expression filled his face.

“What did you want to know?” asked the older Orion. I squirmed a little as I sat there, thinking about everything I wanted to ask my dad.

“You know… just… anything,” I replied. “Like, asking him about what it was like growing up and what kind of plants are good and bad to eat. I’d know if he was a scholar like one of those educated types or if he was stronger and could take a punch. Just… a little bit of everything. That’s why I love spending time with you. You teach me so much. You taught me about your language, and you tell me stories. You’re teaching me to fight and to think. You care about me, like how momma cares about me.”

There.

I said it out loud.

I managed to get out some of those wretched words that had been rattling around in my head for as long as I could remember. In a weird way, I felt a weight lift from my chest. It felt like the compression ended just a little, but it was still there. Just because I voiced something didn’t mean it would make the feeling go away. I should have known that it wouldn’t leave me, even though I wished it would.

“I am sorry to hear this,” apologized Steele. His left index finger came up and brushed my back gently, which made me smile. “Can I do anything to help?” I thought about it for a long moment, thinking about everything Steele had already done for me. Was there anything more that he could do that he wasn’t already.

I ended up shaking my head.

“No, I just…” I looked into his violet eyes and felt that weight lift just a little bit more. If I was behind honest with myself, more time spent with him seemed to lessen the burden in my heart. I had no real words how to describe what was going on. I felt confused, but also determined. Steele had done so much for me and continued to do so much every single day.

Instead of trying to verbalize all of my thoughts, I decided on something different that would mean just as much to him.

I wiggled my legs out from under me and laid down on Steele’s palm, spreading my arms as far apart as I could in an effort to hug his entire hand before muttering a single word.

“Bromidian.”

Steele’s smile was so genuine – so warm – and I knew that he cared for me as if I were his own. His fingers curled lightly over me as he nodded.

“Youl-heiris,” he smiled. I closed my eyes and, though the day was still burning warm, I let myself lay against his hand. At some point, he readjusted to lay on his back and laid me against his chest. I stayed curled up against his chest, listening to the sound of his deep, rumbling breath and the gentle thumping of his heart pulsing beneath me.

At some point, the both of us drifted off, Steele’s calloused hand laid gently over me like a tent. The last thing I remembered was gently grasping at the vast canvas of cloth that made his shirt. When we woke, Steele decided we had worked enough for the day and that, the next day, he would teach me about swords and knives.

“You are doing well in your stances and switches. We will start with sticks, but it is important to know these other skills,” said Steele.

Once again, I felt invigorated and determined to learn everything I could from Steele. What was more exciting was that I was about to learn about weapons – something that only boys got to study and learn about. Excited beyond words, I made sure to stretch and eat well at dinner to be ready for the next day.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Book One: The Orion’s Factotum

[sentanixiv]

The One To Call (wc: 2,068) Spent my lunch break today scratching out this modern AU test-write based on a exes-to-lovers prompt:

They are still each other's emergency contact. Which becomes apparent when one of them ends up in the hospital.

Morston, modern AU; reference to injuries sustained, but no details or visuals. John reacting to being the one called when Arthur turns up at the hospital, beat to shit and no one knows how. Plenty of vague/inaccurate medical terms because I am bone-tired and braindead.

Streetlights stretch and streak overhead, a blurred mirror to the dotted lines demarking the lanes on the freeway. Recently refreshed, the paint burns bright under the headlamp, waits for the grease and dirt of the daily grind to dull it into the same muted hues of the cityscape's south end. Rush hour's petered out, though plenty of vehicles still cut between lanes, seeking to make the small gains that'll save them thirty seconds on their commute home. Their pace is sedate in comparison to the streak of copper-and-chrome that routes through without care nor caution.

Wind whips at the hem of his jeans, tangling with threads worn loose from the denim weave. Arms half-bared make targets for bug bodies to strike, stinging as they collide and crash away from the lone motorcycle rider. Ducked low, making the best of his bike's swift profile, John shifts the gear and lets go the clutch. Uneven, the frame jerks beneath him before the tires grab at asphalt and rip him forward faster.

 The steady, streaking lights count out a tempo that matches the beating of his heart, but it can't hope to catch the racing of his thoughts. He drives on instinct and reflex, tearing through the narrow spaces between cars, earning hollers and honks that curse his lineage back to the beginning, but he ignores them. Lets muscle memory guide as he counts the miles and urges the speedometer to edge just a little bit further beyond its max.

 Internally, there's a litany of thoughts that demand he go faster, be there sooner, and a dizzying spiral of questions to why him, what's happening, and who's responsible. Two he can't answer, but the first has the audacity to make sense.  'Why him' is because he's named on the file - the only name - and it's best he comes to talk with the doctor per the voice what'd called him.

 Green highway signs with white lettering catches his attention and he gears down, crosses three lanes and leans to balance the curve as he takes the ramp at an ungodly speed. The red light at the intersection exists as an afterthought, traffic slower here, with fewer cars to obstruct him and he takes full advantage to push the limits.

 Too long still passes before the backlight sign emblazoned with The Blackwater-McCourt Memorial Hospital zips overhead. There's an anthem of sirens accompanied by flashing lights that surrounds the area, but there's no blue to slow him and so he don't. Rides straight up onto the concrete walk and kicks down the stand, kills the engine and grabs the keys before he's through the front doors. Ignores the unhelpful call of a bystander telling him he can't park there, focus intent on the front desk.  A sleepy-eyed volunteer sits there, turning the yellowed pages of a bodice-ripper romance. She blinks and looks up when he stops there and demands the room number.

 "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you," she says, apologetic as she dog-ears the page and leans forward with a helpful smile.  "The, ah. The helmet doesn't help."

 Right.  He loosens the latched belting and pulls it off, dragging a gloved hand back through his sweat-streaked hair.  "I said: Got me a call about an 'Arthur Morgan' being here?" he repeats, breathing slow and steady against the rising anxiety that hospitals bring about.  "Whereabouts should I-"

 The name stills her, the rosy hue of her complex fades brief before she shakes it off and smiles wanly.  "I'll call the doctor," she says, hand automatically lifting the phone from its cradle. An older model, push-tone and connected to a landline, she manipulates it smoothly, whispers into the mouthpiece and nods at what she hears.

 John sets his helmet down on the counter, fingers tapping erratic beats against it. His leg twitches, foot bouncing as he holds down the need to move, to do something, to get answers without asking half so nicely.

 "Doctor Roberts is on the way," the young woman tells him, an interruption to his reverie and John swears.

 "You gotta be kiddin' me," he mutters.

 The lady - Mary-Beth, by the volunteer's tag she wears - looks up at him with wide, serious eyes. "She won't be more than a moment."

 "No, I bet she won't," he grumbles, dragging his helmet off the counter. John paces, walks the five steps across the hall and back again at least a dozen times before an exasperated noise jars him out of the motion.

 "You meanin' to wear a hole in my floor?"

 Doctor Abigail Roberts walks up and near past him, grabbing his elbow to pull him along as she nods to Mary-Beth.  "I got this from here," she says sharply and there's no fight against it. Mary-Beth sinks back into her chair, novel absent from her attentions as she digs out a phone. Whatever's gone on, it's about to hit the shitfan of social media and that makes him groan.

 "Ain't you gonna stop her?" he asks Abigail, wrenching his arm free. John keeps pace with her, lets her maintain the half step lead needed to guide them both.

 Abigail shakes her head and points down the hall that'll route them past trauma care. Her hair's pulled back, messy wisps plastered along her temple; sign that she's been in the OR, not long done. They were together for a while, once upon a darker time; one of them whirlwind romances what happened when she was the trauma care doctor and he was the trauma-suffering fool that'd needed care.  John knew her well, knew she liked to look at least a bit composed before starting her rounds, so knew this hectic break from habit meant something real and something that weren't apt to be good.

 "You know as good as I that there ain't no point," she reminds him. True, there ain't. Mary-Beth is no doubt connected to the same network that most of them are and won't be long for her to rouse the rest of the gang now that John's been dragged into it.  "Let it happen, John. It'll make things easier."

 "Nothing's gonna be easy here, Abigail," he tells her flat out. "You know I ain't been 'round Arthur for three years now, so why's I the one that got the call?"

 Crisp steps on smooth linoleum and Abigail does not look at him, only holds her head high and keeps her eyes forward. There's a clarity to them, the sort of shine that comes on when she's feeling something fierce and that makes his gut clench because the thing they're talking about, the man Arthur Morgan?  Well, he's means something to a lot of people, and it sets a poor stage to have that mist about her eyes before they get into the meat of it.

 "Arthur ain't never updated his emergency contacts," she says quickly, checks the chart she's been carrying.  Taller than her, John can make out details on the patient's file and sees his name listed there, like she's just said. "There weren't no one else I could call."

 "That ain't telling me why I'm here."  Why he got a call; don't matter to him if Arthur took his name off his file or not. They'd had a good run and ruined it, but it ain't so easy to change all the records, all the details to strike the other from their lives. Hell, he'd found out week before last that Arthur's name still sat on the lease when he went to renew it, had to explain to the landlord that weren't no one but John there no more. Had to endure the lamenting that Arthur'd been the best thing to happen to him and John never disagreed, but that ain't changed that Arthur'd done the best thing for himself by ending it.

 "Well, John," Abigail begins, taking a breath, "that's 'cause it ain't good."

 John reaches out, grips her arm to stall them both and turn her towards him. "What's that mean?" he asks, eyes seeking to pry something from her gaze that'd answer that. "I been told that already, but it don't mean shit without more. You know that."

 "It means that it ain't good," she replies, unflinching under the stop, under the inspection.  "I done what I could and he's stable now, but..."

The words don't trail off so much as his grip tightens. All these words, this dance around it, tells him more than he wants to know already.  "What happened?"

 Abigail pulls herself free and gestures him ahead, pointing to the left hall. "We ain't sure and I don't got details, but Sadie came by not long after he showed up, says he went missing a week ago, maybe more."  She shrugs, leaves out the why of Sadie being there, but the woman ain't family, so must've been present for function. That meant the police were getting involved, sending her out to get a bead on it.

They slow up outside a door closed, lights dimmed in the hall and the profile of a police guard half hidden in the shadows. John didn't recognize him, didn't much care to because Abigail stopped with her back to the door, keeping him from crossing the threshold. Beyond it comes the muffled melody of medical equipment, monitoring the someone there what'd been hurt. "All I know's that he walked up to ER looking a right mess," she explains, fingers pale in their grip on the chart. "Blood and bruising and, well.  You know Arthur. Anyone else'd not be able to walk, but he managed it.  Said something about gettin' away, keepin' folk safe before we lost him."

 John feels the jerk in his chest, his heart threatening to up and stop on him. "Lost?"

 Abigail shows a flicker of annoyance, smacks one hand against his chest. "Not like that, y'fool!" she hisses. "Charles got him breathing again, Tilly and Karen got him stable, Sean processed him while Lenny paged me."  It's a report, a buffer to give him a chance to breathe again before she provides more details.  "I spent seven hours working on him," she adds, shaking her head.  "Ain't much that weren't busted or broke; looks to me like he got worked over real good. Shoulder torn up, ribs broke, couple fingers were twisted up bad.  I ain't sure all what's wrong. Seven hours to step the bleeding, pull the mess of debris from his shoulder, and cut out the infection, John.  Could be worse, but I won't know more 'til diagnostics gets me the details. And I ain't sure it'll be smart to put him on the table again too soon."

 The flicker of panicked fear calms at the assurance the man's alive, but the small spark of it feeds the fires of his temper at whomever attacked Arthur. Once he knows the extent of it, John will find them - ain't no point denying it, not when the heat of his anger near as burns in him.  John'll find them and revisit it on them, but first-

 "I talked to him some in Recovery, but weren't long," Abigail says, stepping away from the door, up closer to John where she can drop her voice and give an air of privacy. "Arthur said somethin' about Colm O'Driscoll."

 Everything hones in on the name, the target of what'd been a man and was now, in John's eyes, a dead man walking. He jerks back, makes to leave, but Abigail stops him with a hold on his arm.

 "Not yet."  Her voice is insistent, a steady pressure to keep him from leaping off into the dark void wherein the violence beckoned to him.  "I ain't had you called to mess with no stupid vengeance," she tells him, nails pressing against his skin where it's pockmarked with the remains of bugs that crossed his motorcycle's path.

 "Then why's I even here?" he demands. "Arthur and I ain't nothing, no matter what no file says. You know that well as I do."

 Abigail hesitates, the sharp edges of her softening, her expression one she'd used when trying to calm him. "He asked for you," she says quietly.  "Fevered and dying and barely nothing, but as he was coming out in Recovery, weren't no name but yours on his lips. Weren't awake long, weren't real coherent, but you're the one he wanted here."

[wasnt-always-there]

Lore explaination post (p1 - world building)

This is probably gonna be so long

So.

My OC's world is split into 4 dimensions 💥💥

1. Base reality, the one we know.

2. The Corridors. This is a "glass reality/dimension" as I call it.

3. The Fields. This is also a "glass reality/dimension"

4. The void, Limbo, nowhere, etc. This is a place you will escape from, but most likely not alive, and certainly not the same.

Here's the explainations of them all :DDD

1 - Base Reality

This is where people are, as well as animals, buildings - humanity, basically. This is where you and me are.

The story is set in a made-up Danish town I have yet to fully name, but it's basically a small, half-abandoned town with like one store that's almost bankrupt and a few mini-stores under the one apartment complex that exists there. The place is known to be "haunted".

2 - The Corridors

A glass reality, which basically means it's sort of like an overlay to the base reality. Where the sky is blue, it shines bright red. Where there is color there is dull teal. People from the base reality can be seen as transparent husks, deprived of personality and identification.

The inhabitents of the Corridors are called "Marrings". These are entities born from inherent negativity. They live in the corridors, they cause negativity in order to spread themselves, and contradict the Viewers (will say who they are in a bit). These entities have no real form, and exist merely in energy form. They know and communicate with each other through mutual understanding.

Marrings can transfer their consciousness into a human body if they want, although it is not common. Most often, they want to spread turmoil by manipulating base reality in extremely miniscule ways, and causing heavy butterfly effects.

If a Marring transfers their consciousness to a human body, their hands will appear bright red, though not to a normal human, only through the eyes of a Marring or Viewer.

Example of a Marring:

^This is my OC, November :DDD Their hands aren't red here because idk who's looking and also it ruins the aesthetic sometimes lmao^

3 - The Fields

A glass reality, which I'm kinda still figuring out how to visualize.

Every tree is a birch tree with golden leaves. The sky is clear, no matter the season, and is almost blindingly blue. The sun shines and looks somewhat like a giant iris. People from the base reality are seen pretty much how they would look in the base reality, but they're sort of glowy and blurred. Everything that is broken down and ruined in base reality, here, is just nature.

The inhabitents of the Fields are called "Viewers", which are entities born from inherent positivity. The Viewers strive to make the world positive, but also balanced, and natural. The flow of reality should not be hindered, which is why the Viewers despise the Marrings (although they'd never say that because unconditional love and all that) for using the butterfly effect to their advantage, hereby manipulating the natural flow.

Viewers CAN transport their consciousness into a human body, but no respected viewer would. That is prohibiting natural flow. Although, Viewers need to see the base reality, to make sure the Marrings aren't manipulating it too much, because then they will gladly stop that, no matter the cost of 'normality'. So instead, Viewers use any eye shape in base reality to inhabit and spy through. Statues, posters, birch trees, butterflies, moths, anything. When a human feels as though they're being watched, that's because they are.

When a Viewer DOES transfer into a human body, their eyes will be golden and their clothes white and gold. Their appearance will be neat and composed. They will keep their hands on their backs, as to not show association with the Marrings.

Example of a Viewer:

^My OC, Enzo‼️‼️‼️^

Finally, The Void/Nowhere:

In the rare scenario of a Viewer or Marring interfering so much with the base reality, as to create a pocket dimension using part of the real world, the void will eventually consume it. Whatever place that was taken from base reality will disappear from the presesnt, the past, and the future, creating a paradox that fixes itself by altering memories and reality itself. This obviously, heavily disrupts natural flow, which is why it practically never happens. And if it does, it's usually the doing of a Marring. There's only one account of this being the doing of the viewers. (*cough cough* Kaylus in a courtroom *cough cough*)

This pocket dimension and the void in general doesn't effect time in base reality.

When viewers/marrings stop spending their energy holding up the facade of the pocket dimension, the void will start to consume it and anything or anyone within it. However, if a Marring or Viewer reside while the facade drops, their body will be consumed, but their consciousness will be forever trapped in the void. If a human is there, their "consciousness" (Which is just a brain and cells, which it isn't just for Marrings/viewers, because their consciousness is purely in energy form) will either be "recyled" or consumed, too.

The atoms that the void consumes will be put back into the base reality to rebuild what they took. However, neither the void, the viewers or marrings know how to make it look right again. It will look jumbled and like a poor imitation of real objects and shapes. This will also implant into every human's brain, to not question it.

If a person is consumed by the void, their atoms will return to base reality, most often as building material (a wall, the floor, a growing tree, etc.), but there is a chance of the person returning as themself with their consciousness intact, but their mind jumbled, a messy memory, and something just slightly off about their appearance.

---

Some extra notes:

"Switch" -

A "switch" occours when a Marring or Viewer is found to not fit into the glass reality they were born into. It doesn't take any discussion, just a knowing that the Marring/Viewer is different in some way than the rest.

For example:

Angie was born a Viewer, from positivity, but witnessed enough general negativity after watching and spying on humanity for too long, that they became more pessimistic than optimistic. So although they still had good values at heart, Angie was a source of negativity, now, and couldn't continue to exist in the Fields. Angie was switched to the Corridors, where they certainly did not fit in any more, but that was the only "place" they could be, other than humanity. This also, in turn, led the to be more outwardly mean and cold.

^Angie‼️ my personal favorite character of mine theehee^

Field/corridor symbolism -

Viewers are represented using eyes, and Marrings are represented using hands.

This is something I decided using the trolley problem💥💥 like the two options being "Don't do anything" and being forced to watch 5 people die, because you don't wanna be a part of it, to put your name in the equation, essentially ridding yourself of the blame and wiping your hands clean - and the second option being "pull the lever", essentially putting the death of an entire person on your shoulder, but savning the majority. It's observation and action, eyes and hands.

Because the vast majority of people, despite what they may say, would turn a blind eye. It's too much to handle, and too big of a decision to make in a few seconds - to kill an innocent person. So, you pretend you never saw, and you can go back to your own life, where you can make good choices, and present yourself as someone who did not just neglect their ability to save 5 people from the horrific death they have endured. That's the essence of the Viewers. Toxic people pleasers, who will say what they need to, but also do what they need to.

Marrings are reckless, with their own lives as well as others'. The truth is, a Marring could not care less about their choice, because either way there would be suffering. 5 families suffering and burying a loved one, and one person traumatized from screams and dealing with survivor's guilt, or the other way around. However, what Marrings love is action, it's influence and it's annoying the hell out of viewers. So in the end, a Marring would kill someone, just to get their hands a bit more directly bloodied.

Possession (TW - brief su*c*de mention) -

A Marring or Viewer can "possess" an already existing person, but the body will then be shared between two consciousnesses. Normally, when a Marring or Viewer goes to the base reality in a body, they will create one from nothing. Possessing someone is a level of influence that is rarely even done by Marrings because of how severe it is. It has a possibility of the person afflicted knowing of these paranormal entities after literally sharing body with one, and Marrings and Viewers neither want people to know of their existence, because for Marrings is would diminish their negative impact, and for Viewers it would make people more aware of truth, which would also in turn create more negativity.

An example of possession in ABH is when Kaylus possesses Damien in order to talk to Angie and then kill off Damien, which is very much not successful.

Damien here, has already started to spiral since meeting Angie, because a lot of the facts that he used to ground himself with, to feel more real and present, is all turning out to be doubt-worthy. When Kaylus possesses Damien, he is unable to move for a long time, because the signals from brain to body are both contradicting and Kaylus is trying for a bit to get him run over by a car or something.

Then, Damien is taken to a mental hospital for a short bit, where Kaylus decides just to not engage through Damien, because it's only really here that they realize they could use Damien to talk to Angie like they want to so bad. Kaylus then starts using Damien's friendship with Angie against him, to make him think he's still in full control of himself, when he asks Damien's sister, Maja, to find Angie.

This whole thing, though, leads Damien to try to off himself, which is what Kaylus was intending, and even encouraged throughout his possession. Luckily, he gets to a hospital in time.

---

^Might add more notes or edit some things as time goes on, but we'll see!!^

If anyone reads this far THANK YOU SO MUCH lmao I love talking about this universe it's my favorite thing. i love anyone who made it to the end forever <3<3<3

Also if any of it didn't make sense, or something or if i should add more to it let me know please i love this universe so much its so awesome to me arghhh

[toshiro-taichou]

Ice Changes the Story Chapter 1

(Credits to the original artist)

Summary:

Inspired by Change One Side Change the Story on Fanfiction.Net.

What happens if Toshiro Hitsugaya is thrown into the past and has to save everyone by changing the time line just a little bit. Being sent to where he doesn't exist nor mainly anyone he knows. To stop Aizen, Toshiro is sent to a time before Aizen is even in the academy. Will Toshiro be able to save the future?

Ships: No Main Parings. There will be side romance

Tags: Alternative Universe - Timetravel. Hitsugaya Toushirou - Centric. BAMF Hitsugaya Toushirou. Toshiro is older than Yoruichi and Byakuya. Change One Side Change the Story fanfiction inspired. My Ice Changes the Story rewrite. Bad spelling and Gramar. I don't proof read my stories.

Ao3 and fanfiction link:

Chapter 1:

In the year 2158, there was a war that completely destroyed the balance of the worlds. In the world of death, a world that was neither heaven or hell, just a limbo between life and rebirth, there was death filled the entire afterlife.

However, there was a 5'11 man standing, completely out of breath after pushing his exhausted body to finish off the remaining hollows. His hair was suppose to be snowy white and spiky but was stained half crimson and covered in brown. Crimson comes from his and his enemies blood. Brown from the dirt and dust of the battle. His eyes used to be turquoise, a bright amazing colour but they were now a dull, lifeless turquoise. Unlike his usual clothing which was a black Shihakusho with a white sleeveless hiaori, his clothes was completely different. A white open ruined jacket with a frozen collar and the ends of his sleeves are frozen. His pants were white and had holes in them, a black belt that barely stayed on his waist. His feet, which acted as shoes, were frozen to his shins. Although the colour of his clothes was suppose to be white, it's very obvious that they turn a greyish red colour from the dirt and blood. His tanned skin was also cut and bruised. 

This man was the Tenth Division's taichou, Toshiro Hitsugaya. He was a child prodigy and the youngest taichou in history. He is the sole survivour in the entire three worlds. Shaking in pain, he walked over to a collapsed building and sat down. He looked down at his Zanpakuto, the strongest ice zanpakuto in history. "Hyorinmaru?" Toshiro coughed out. "Master..." He heard the dragon's voice, it was filled with worry. "This is the end, isn't it?" Hyorinmaru hummed in agreement. He didn't like the fact that his master was in so much pain and that the soul society, world of the living and hueco mundo was collapsing. Toshiro closed his eyes and relaxed his body, with some struggle, waiting for death to take him.

A hand brought him out of his acceptance darkness. He struggled to open his eyes and once the blurriness passed, Toshiro took in the appearance of the person in front of him.

A man was stood in front of him with his hand on Toshiro's forehead, using healing kido to heal Toshiro the best he can. He was very, very pale, but not sickly pale, just someone-who-hasn't-seen-the-sun-at-all pale. His hair was long and black, it reminded the taicho of the previous thirteenth division taicho, Jushiro Ukitake. The man was wearing, what looked to be, a standard Shinigami uniform. If it wasn't for the Reiatsu that the prodigy was sensing, he would've believed he was a survivor. The man's eyes interested Toshiro the most. They were blue, but a blue he's never seen. It's like he can see the sky in the man's eyes. 

"W-Who are you?" Toshiro asked. The man smiled softly. "I'm the Soul King, don't worry, I'm not Yhwach, he's gone and I was left behind." He said, seeing Toshiro's shocked expression. "There's not enough time, Hitsugaya-taichou. The balance is destroyed with all the death that has happened and all the worlds are collapsing. I need to ask you a favour." Toshiro frowned hearing that but he had already figured that the worlds were collapsing. "What is it you need, sir?" The Soul King stood up and offered a hand to Toshiro. "Not here." Toshiro took the hand and stood up. It was a good thing as the building Toshiro was resting on collapsed again but this time, the floor beneath it collapsed and the building and floor disintegrate into the abyss. Toshiro's eyes widened. "Come with me." The king said. Toshiro nodded and the king teleported them to another realm.

The King and Toshiro had entered the Soul King Realm. Toshiro's eyes widened with the amount of destruction that was the realm. He couldn't even sense the noble members of Squad Zero. The King guided Toshiro to a part of the Soul King realm, that he had no idea existed. The King turned to Toshiro with a serious expression. "Hitsugaya-taichou, what I'm about to ask you is the upmost important thing that will need to be kept a secreteven in death, understand?" Toshiro nodded. "Yes sir." The king sighed softly before suddenly coughing violently making Toshiro catch him before he fell. "Your Majesty!"

"Hitsugaya-taichou, I need you to return to the past, way before you were born, before Aizen Sosuke became a Shinigami." Toshiro eyes widened at the words coming out the most powerful being's mouth. "Are you sure I'm the right person?" The king smiled tiredly. "I can't think of anyone else that would be the best person for this job." He shakily stood up straight and headed over to a doorway that looked broken. He turned over to Toshiro. "Hitsugaya-taichou, don't allow anyone to know you're from the future and make sure you murder Aizen before he becomes immortal." Toshiro's eyes narrowed as he nodded. "Understood my lord." Toshiro said.

The king's serious face melted into relief. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-taichou." He then snapped his fingers making the doorway light up. "There is no return, Hitsugaya-taichou." Toshiro then smirked. "I never expected to return once you told me about your plan." The king chuckled softly. "I'll be sealing a lot of your reiatsu away, so you'll have to train and wait for some time until it unlocks. Some require time while others will require training. Good luck, Hitsugaya Toshiro." Toshiro nodded in understandment and walked into the doorway.

The King watched the light from the doorway dimmed and it was no more. He turned around and watches as the worlds repair itself, slowly. "It's probably going to take centuries for the worlds to fully repair itself. Good luck, taichou." The king said to himself.

Toshiro woke up in a forest 200 years before he actually does in his original timeline and he arrived 50 years before Ichigo invaded the Soul society. He sits up from his laying-stomach position. By looking at his tiny hands, he quickly came to the dreadful conclusion that he was in his child-like body again. Toshiro shakily stands up and looks around his environment and notices the forest was familiar to him. ‘I think I’m in Junrinan.’ Toshiro thought to himself.

Once Toshiro managed to gain his balance, he dusted his green kimono that was quite similar to his kimono that he wore before meeting Rangiku. He ran his hand through his snowy white hair and slowly walked to Junrinan town. However, once Toshiro managed to get used to his small legs, his pace quickened.

The town was exactly the same as Toshiro remembered it being from his childhood. When he entered the town, many residents glanced at him and whispered to the other person. Toshiro already gathered what they’re talking about as he had already been through this before. He looked around, looking for the leader of the town without asking for help from the residents. 

“Are you lost, young man?” An elderly voice spoke from behind Toshiro. Toshiro stopped walking and turned his body to the side to look at the elder who spoke to him. Toshiro instantly recognised her as his granny, just younger, but he knew he couldn’t call her that as they do not know each other and it would be disrespectful. Toshiro shook his head. “Not really. I’m looking for the elder of Junrinan.” Granny smiled at Toshiro and nodded. “Let me help you.” Toshiro’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to ma’am.” The woman just smiled. “I don’t but I want to. It doesn’t fit right with me if a young man such as yourself is wandering around lost.” Toshiro sighed softly, knowing he couldn’t argue with the woman he respects the most, even if she was from a different timeline. “Okay.” Toshiro said. The woman smiled and led Toshiro to the hut where the leader lives.

“I never got your name, young man.” Granny said, glancing at him at the corner of her eye. Toshiro turned to her slightly shocked, he never expected her to want to know his name as the way they met this time was much different than how they met originally. “My name is Toshiro Hitsugaya.” The woman smiled. “My name is Ayame Hinamori. It is lovely to meet you, Toshiro-kun.” Toshiro smiled lightly. 

They soon got to the hut and Ayame knocked on the door. Soon the door opened to reveal another elder. The elder looked happy to see Ayame. “Ah! Ayame-san, how may I help you?” He asked, happily. Ayame smiled and looked at Toshiro. “This young man wanted to meet with you.” The elder looked at Toshiro, he was surprised by Toshiro’s colouring but he smiled and invited the two in but Ayame refused as she has things to do. 

Toshiro found himself sitting in the large room in front of the firepit with a cup of green tea in his hands. “How may I help you, young man?” The elder asked kindly. Toshiro blew on his cup and frowned. “I was hoping to know the date and the events that are happening in the Seireitei. With Junrinan being right next to the Seireitei, I thought you, or at least someone, would know what will be happening.” The elder was surprised by Toshiro’s request. “I’m surprised that someone as young as you know what the Seireitei is. You look like you just arrived at the Soul Society.” Toshiro huffed softly and took a sip of his green tea. “I arrived a while ago and people do talk. One thing a lot of people believe is because I’m young, they think I just arrived at the Soul Society.” Toshiro half-lie to the elder. The elder blinked before chuckling a bit in embarrassment as he too believed that. “You are correct. As of right now, it is the year 1751.” Toshiro nodded. ‘204 years before my life as a human ended.’ Toshiro thought. ‘Which also means this is 250 years before everything goes to shit with Aizen.’ “I see. What about the Seireitei?” Toshiro asked. Elder hummed and drank some of his tea. “Not much is happening in the Seireitei. It’s just the same. Shinigamis defeat hollows and do what they usually do.” Toshiro nodded. “Thank you.” Toshiro said, drinking his tea. The elder then sighed. “The only problem that I’m aware of is dangerous.” Toshiro raised a brow. “Dangerous?” The elder nodded. 

“Do you know a man called Koga Kuchiki?” asked the Elder. Toshiro knew the name from the Zanpakuto Rebellion, he was Byakuya Kuchiki’s uncle. “No, I've never heard of that name. Is he a noble?” Toshiro lied. The elder nodded. “Technically he’s not but he did marry into the family, so he is a noble but not blood-noble.” “Ah. So what is the deal with this Koga Kuchiki guy?” “Recently, he broke out of his prison and is now killing innocent Rukon citizens in other districts.” The elder sighed sadly, feeling sorry for the poor citizens that had been killed by a now insane Shinigami. Toshiro frowned, not liking what he heard. “That is not good.” “I agree.” 

The two sat in silence until the elder spoke up again. “If you don’t mind me asking, young man, why did you want to know about the Seireitei? It couldn’t just be because people talk.” Toshiro smirked lightly. “I’m thinking of joining the Gotei 13 at some point.” The elder blinked in surprise. “Are you sure you want to? Even though you are much older than what you let on, I don’t think, with all due respect, they’ll allow someone as young as you to join the academy.” Toshiro shrugged. “Trust me, with what I have planned, they won’t have no choice but to let me join the Shin O Academy.” The Elder sighed. “I see. Well, good luck.” Toshiro nodded. “Thank you for the information, sir.” The elder smiled and nodded. “No problem, young man.”

After Toshiro finished his drink, he left the hut and walked away from the hut and town. He went back into the forest and sat down under a tree in a meditation position. He concentrated and went into his mindscape. 

Toshiro opened his eyes and saw the familiar ice plane and snow covered ground. He could even see the tall mountains in the distance as well as the frozen lake nearby him. Toshiro stood up and noticed that he was in his adult form. “So, in my mindscape I’m in my adult form while in the outside world, I’m in my child form.” 

A huge gust of cold wind brushed against him as well as a shadow covering his entire being and a lot of the ground. Toshiro looked behind him and saw the other half of his soul. Toshiro smiled at the dragon. “The king did say that your powers would be sealed and you were always put into your child form due to your power being too powerful for your soul to handle until you were able to master it, even if it expanded every day.” “That is true. How are you, Hyorinmaru?” “I am fine. It feels strange not being able to communicate with you without you being in your mindscape.” “It does feel like I have a hole in my heart but as long as I can communicate with you, even if I have to meditate.” Toshiro grinned. Hyorinmaru rumbled in amusement. “Master, what is the plan right now?” Toshiro hummed in thought. “I want to get training, even if I have to start with the basics. It’s not the first time I had to go into the basics.” Toshiro stated. Hyorinmaru nodded. “That seems like a good plan, master. The quicker you train, the quicker I am in your hands.” Stated Hyorinmaru, making Toshiro laugh. 

Toshiro went back into the real world and started training himself. He started with basic exercises and to see how much Reiatsu he has. He has the same amount of Reiatsu that he had when he met Rangiku. “Looks like my reiatsu is the same from when I started as an academy student.” Toshiro stated to himself and put himself through harsh training with a lot of the basics he remembers from the academy but more challenging.

It takes him weeks to gain the power he had as a third seat but the good part was that he had his Zanpakuto in his hands again. While taking a break, Toshiro heard a rustle of bushes and a stick snapping very close to him. Toshiro narrowed his eyes and his eyes stared at the location he heard the noises from without moving a muscle. 

Suddenly, a blade was aimed at him and Toshiro rolled out of the way just in time as the blade sliced the grass. Toshiro got up on his feet and saw a well-toned man with piercing green eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and a long ponytail of red hair, with bangs hanging on the right side of his face to frame it. The one thing that caught Toshiro’s attention was that the man is wearing a Shihakusho. 

Toshiro’s eyes narrowed. ‘A Shinigami. So this must be the infamous Koga Kuchiki.’ Toshiro glared at Koga. “Can I help you, Shinigami?” Koga scowled. “You can help me by dying, boy.” Toshiro frowned. “I can’t help you then.” He said, rolling his eyes. ‘Kuchiki did say that this man was cocky but I didn’t think it would be this much.’ 

Koga gripped his Zanpakuto tightly and dashed over to Toshiro, thinking that Toshiro would not be a problem. However, Toshiro waited for Koga to get close to him before raising his hand towards the insane Shinigami, also taking notice of the two massive Reiatsus drawing near. He points a finger at Koga before saying: “Raimei no basha, itoguruma no kangeki, hikari mote kore o mutsu ni wakatsu, Bakudo #61; Rikujokoro.” Toshiro inchanted and light beams had soon trapped Koga. Very soon after Koga was trapped, the two people that were drawing near had arrived. Koga glared at Toshiro. “How does some Rukon brat like yourself now a high kido?” He growled out, struggling to get out. Toshiro just stared at Koga with no emotion before smirking. “That’s for me to know and for you to never find out as I believe your hunters have arrived.” Before Koga demanded Toshiro to explain what he means, he sees Toshiro pointing at the two people. 

Koga looked over at where Toshiro was pointing at and his eyes widened seeing the Soutaichou, Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, and his father in-law, Ginrei Kuchiki. “Koga.” said Ginrei. Koga scowled. Toshiro stretched and walked over to his zanpakuto and picked it up. He walked behind a tree and let the two captains deal with Koga.

Once they managed to seal Koga, Toshiro let his kido down. He tied his Zanpakuto around his back and started to walk away. Yamamoto looked at Toshiro. “Young man.” He called out to Toshiro. Toshiro stopped walking and turned his head to Yamamoto, his eyes blinking confusingly. “Yes?” “What’s your name?” “Toshiro Hitsugaya.” Yamamoto was quiet for a few seconds. “How do you know kido?” Toshiro turned his body round to show Yamamoto that he had his fall attention. “I saw someone use it before and I just wanted to see if I could do it, so I tried it out.” Toshiro stated, even though he was lying. Yamamoto just stared at Toshiro with his eyes closed before his attention draws to Toshiro’s Zanpakuto. “That blade-” “My Zanpakuto.” Toshiro interrupted him. That caught Yamamoto’s attention. “Your Zanpakuto? I find it hard to believe.” Toshiro grinned and shrugged. “You can believe it or not but this is my soul and partner.” He said, tapping the hilt at the end. The two stared at each other for a few minutes without any sound. 

Soon Ginrei appeared and saw the two staring at each other. “Yamamoto-Soutaichou.” Ginrei announced his presense. “Kuchiki-Taichou.” Yamamoto acknowledges his presense. Toshiro’s eyes traveled to Ginrei, taking in his appearance. Ginrei notices Toshiro’s staring at him and stares back. “Thank you for your help.” He says. Toshiro looked up at him in surprise. He never expected a Kuchiki to thank a peasant such as himself. “Y-You’re welcome.” Toshiro stumbles over his words. “Soutaichou.” Ginrei said. Yamamoto nodded. “I agree.” Toshiro deadpan. ‘How are these two communicating?!’ Toshiro screams in his mind, he could hear Hyorinmaru laugh in the back of his mind. 

“Hitsugaya.” Ginrei said, gaining Toshiro’s attention. “Yes, Kuchiki-Taichou?” Ginrei crossed his arms. “How do you feel about joining the Shin O Academy?” Toshiro blinked in surprise, not expecting that. “With your Reiatsu and your easy-to-pick-up kido technquies, even the fact that you have a Zanpakuto.” Ginrei explained. Toshiro lightly huffed and nodded with a small smile. “It would be an honour to join to the Gotei 13.” Yamamoto nodded. “Kuchiki-Taichou will sort out your documents to join and the academy starts in 3 weeks. Good luck.” That was all Yamamoto said as he walked away.

[chibsandchill]

Effervescent

Chapter 10: Snitches end up in ditches

Tsu'tey x OC

Effervescent masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The machine shut down with a heavy groan that tore through the now warm gel. In an altogether choppy process made more difficult by the guilt, Alva was bit by bit torn away from her blue counterpart and pushed back into the human one. 

Alva opened the upper lid of the link unit before sitting up. The room was relatively quiet, most of the avatar drivers already working on their other projects.  Grace sat on a swivel chair with her arms crossed. The scientist wasn’t wearing her white coat and her red hair had been swept behind her ears, a pair of glasses resting low on her nose. 

“When I told you not to do anything unusually stupid yesterday, I meant it.” Grace said. “Skipping important meetings to throw temper tantrums in the corridors like a five year old, jeopardizing our entire mission here so you can run amok in the forest is stupid. . Do you know what Selfridge would do if you got hurt?”

A dull throbbing grew behind her eyes. 

“Sran. Yes.”

“Bullshit.” Grace scoffed. “If you did then you’d have brought that Avatar right back. Quaritch is frothing at the mouth trying to find something to escalate this conflict, and if you get hurt… Well… It won’t be just arrows on display in his office.”

“I won’t get hurt.” Alva brought up two fingers to massage each temple. It did nothing. “Eywa protects me.”

“Eywa doesn’t take sides. She protects the balance. You are not the balance, Alva.”

Alva shrugged. 

Grace scoffed again as she pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her shirt pocket. She lit one of them, taking several drags of it with her eyes closed before she spoke again. 

“I get it. Really, I do. I was close with them once too. Closer than you could imagine.” Grace pushed her chair closer to Alva’s bed. “But we are not one of them. We can’t be. Not after everything we’ve done to them. And it sucks. Seeing the world like they do, experiencing it as one of them is… addicting. But it’s not real for us. Your brother made sure of that a long time ago.”

“It could be.” Alva denied, hopeful of a future she dreamt of. 

“In a perfect world, maybe.” The scientist sighed, resigning herself to something. “Relations with the Na’vi used to be amicable. Each of us stayed in our lane… mostly. I started meeting with Mo’at, the Tsahìk, to talk about the people and try and figure out how to coexist with them here. She taught me so much, but each morsel of wisdom she gave us was returned with death.”

“The school.” Alva said. 

“Yeah. Best thing I ever did. But it began way before that. Selfridge got greedy, he wanted more mines. More territory when the resources grew scarce. They started dumping the waste in the waters, contaminating it. Mo’at finally relented and came and visited us with some of the children, but they got sick.”

“Sick? Sick how?” 

“Poisoned by the contaminated water. Mo’at found the cure with the Tawkami clan but our relationship with them was even worse so they refused to let us return. It wasn’t just the children anymore, but the adults, and even the Avatars got sick. This poison used up important nutrients before our bodies could replace them, which is why it affected the children first. Eytukan was preparing to attack us, and I wouldn’t blame him. We had poisoned their children but it wasn’t intentional.”

Alva felt small under Grace’s gaze. “Did any of them die?”

“Thankfully no.” Grace breathed out. “But they never visited again, and it took years before Mo’at trusted us enough to let me build the school.”

“Have you spoken to her since?” Alva asked. 

“No. How could I?” Grace placed the cigarette between her lips. “I got her daughter killed.”

“There’s still time to get your friend back.” Alva placed a manicured hand on Grace’s leg. “I’m sure she misses you too.”

“Yeah, like the deer misses the wolf.” Grace gave a wistful smile. “It’s too late for us now, but Jake still has a chance to turn this thing around. No more children have to die.”

Grace let the words linger in the air before she sighed and stood up. Her knees cracked but she didn’t seem to notice, or was indifferent to it. She snapped her fingers and one of the technicians jumped up from one of the chairs nearby with a steaming cup of coffee and a PDA device at the ready. 

“I won’t let it get to that.” Alva muttered. “Tsu’tey is taking me to the tree of voices tomorrow. I’ll leave after we’re done, tell them some of my family survived. They’ll understand.”

“He’s bringing you to the tree of voices?” Grace swiveled around, placing a hand on her cocked hip. “Do you have any idea how sacred that site is to them? It is one of the most important places to the Na’vi. It’s how they communicate with their ancestors. It’s a direct link to Eywa.”

Alva stretched out her legs in front of her. There was a new bruise on her knee, and a grass stain on the side of her shin. 

“He invited Ayotola to the tree of voices.” Alva countered. She was painfully aware of what going to the tree of voices would mean, of who waited for her there. “Not Alva the human.”

“Yes, but Tsu’tey, the leading warrior of the Omaticaya, the unofficial runner up for Olo’eyktan, has invited you, Ayotola, whoever it is you’re pretending to be,” Grace threw her hands in the air, “to the tree of voices. This is huge, Alva. In all my dealings with the clan, Mo’at never even mentioned them. Can you imagine the samplings I could take there? It could change our entire understanding of Pandora.”

“I-, I can’t. He’ll notice no one’s connecting back to me.”

“All I need is a piece of one of the vines. This is a game-changer. The board won’t be able to keep sticking their head in the sand if I can prove-”

“-but I’m not a scientist.” Alva protested. “And I’m terrible at lying. It was a miracle he didn’t find out last time.”

“Really, Ayotola?” Grace took a drag of the cigarette held loosely between two fingers, her eyes narrowed at the interruption. “I’d say you’re the best one here at living a lie. I’ve read your file. There’s a lot of redacted information.”

The glitter coating the top part of her neon yellow socks sparkled in the artificial light. Heaps of it fell off whenever she moved, a sizeable pile already coating the metal floor beneath. 

“It’s there for a reason. A lot of people would get in trouble if it wasn’t.” She giggled. “Does my brother know you’ve been digging in my past?”

Grace shook her head. 

“He wouldn’t like it very much if he did.” Alva told her. “You know how he is.”

“An idiot?” 

Alva laughed. “Yes. But he is my brother.”

“Adoptive.” Grace corrected. 

“Our father told us family are who we choose, not who we are born of.” She looked up at the scientist. “But I miss them. I would choose them if I could.” Alva confessed, eyes falling back to her hands. 

“I’m sure you would.” A ghost of a sad smile passed Grace’s face. “Here.” She offered Alva a see-through bottle. “I found them on your desk. The label says twice a day, you know.”

Alva hesitated. “I don’t like them. I can’t… feel with them.”

Grace hummed and looked at the label. Alva knew she wouldn’t find the name of it. The text had long since been scratched away during one of her episodes. “What is it anyways? Your file doesn’t mention any medication.”

“Secret.” Alva sang. “They’re made just for me. Parker says they’re supposed to help but they just make everything dull. And I’m always tired. I don’t want to be tired.”

“Then don’t take them.”

“He’d know. He counts them.”

Grace dropped the pill bottle in Alva’s lap. It was half-full and rattled like a baby’s toy. 

“Living a lie isn’t healthy, Alva.” She said. “But neither is whatever this drug is. We don’t know how this affects your brain, or the potential life-lasting damage it could cause. Your mind isn’t some mine that Selfridge can just send his bulldozers into. Forcing you to take some experimental medication for some… eccentricities is insanity. I can’t let you go through the link without knowing if this could potentially cause a stroke.” 

“No, please! I- Don’t take this away from me.” Alva pleaded. “I’ll do the tests. Just don’t, don’t take my Avatar away.”

Grace shook her head. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You’ve made friends with too many of them to pull you out now. They’d kill the Avatar and any chance at peace would be dead with it.”

“I’ll talk to him about the pills.” Alva promised. “He’ll listen. He always does.”

“You and I must know two different Selfridges’.” Grace scoffed. “And if you don’t talk to him about it then I will. Your wants matter, Alva. You’re not a goddamn mine.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good. Good. You deserve better than being pumped full of drugs just because your asshole brother wants to control every aspect of his life.” The scientist lingered by Alva’s side for a few moments before she sighed, briefly squeezed Alva’s shoulder and walked away. “I’ll… see you at dinner.”

“Yeah. See you at dinner.” Alva responded, but Grace was already too far away to hear it. 

Max thudded down the stairs and down onto the floor. Alva glanced up at him before her eyes fell back on the pill bottle. 

“I’m sorry.” He began. “I told her about your episode. I had to. She’s my superior.”

“It’s fine, Max.” Alva said and sighed. “I should’ve told her about them a year ago.”

“If it makes you feel any better she gets them too.” Max wrung his hands in front of him. “My, uh, my room is next to hers. I hear her at night sometimes… crying. Mo’at wasn’t the only one who lost someone that day. It’s why Grace is so hard on all of you.”

“It doesn’t.” Alva said. “Make me feel any better,” she clarified. “But she’s right about me being a danger to them. And the pills… They’re supposed to help. Keep my head out of the clouds.”

“Can I sit?” 

“Of course.”

Max sat down on the bed next to Alva. 

“Listen. Grace and Selfridge have been at each other’s throats since they got here. Don’t let them use you as ammunition. Neither of them.” Max took the bottle from Alva, read the label before shaking his head. He dropped it on the bed next to him. “Selfridge won’t touch the natives or the hometree as long as you’re there. You are not dangerous, Alva.”

“No, but I know what he’s capable of. Even if Grace thinks I’m not.” Alva turned her head to face him. “And she’s right. If they hurt me, even by accident, Quaritch will use that against them and my brother won’t want to stop him.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But why are you assuming they’re going to hurt you? Just- just listen to what Eywa tells you. Follow your gut. If it says to stay and learn, then stay and learn. You’ve always been so vocal about not being caged. Why are you folding so easily now?”

Alva shrugged. 

“I don’t want to be the reason anyone gets hurt.”

“Just… think about it. When is it going to be your turn to be happy?”

She looked away from him.

“I don’t know.”

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Max and Alva were walking down the halls to meet up with their pilot Trudy on the half-way mark between the Avatar compound and the large warehouse-typed lodging where the pilots dwelled when they weren’t out flying. They were passing one of the smaller meeting rooms when they heard Quaritch booming at some technician. 

“I didn’t know they had meetings this late.” Alva commented. 

Max glanced at the closed door. “They, uh, they don’t. The company isn’t fond of paying unsocial hours.”

“Want to eavesdrop?” Alva’s lips curled into an easy grin. 

She was walking towards the door before Max had a chance to respond. It slid open automatically and for a brief moment she froze. It was quiet. Alva breathed out a sigh of relief and snuck into the room before it closed again, Max right at her heels. Whoever Quaritch had yelled at seemed to have fixed the problem because the ape of a man was silent, content almost, it appeared. Instead a cacophony of voices murmured and muttered in low tones. Alva and Max rounded the wall and crouched low on the stairs leading up to the raised platform. From there they could peek up at the meeting without being seen. 

Soldiers were bundled close around a dimly lit hologram of the Omaticayan kelutral. The image showed the many layers of it and some of the columns, as well as the giant mass of unobtanium resting in the ground below; possibly to remind everyone in the meeting as to their purpose. Selfridge stood on one end with his arms crossed over his chest, but he hid whoever he was looking at, while Quaritch stood on the other with Paz. 

“Go on, tell us.” Her brother urged someone. 

“If you want to hit this thing, it’s gonna be complicated. Your scan doesn’t show the internal structure. There’s an outer row of columns – real heavy duty – , then a secondary ring here.” A familiar voice revealed. 

“Uh huh,” Quaritch hummed. 

“And an inner ring here. There’s a core structure like a spiral,” they continued, but then they leaned forward to adjust the hologram, revealing… Jake. “That’s how they move up and down.”

Alva bit back a gasp, sharing a wide-eyed look with Max. It was strange seeing him there. Jake had never looked so at home, so comfortable as he did in that meeting. He wasn’t tense, instead leaning against the table without a care in the world, a ghost of a grin on his soft face. He wasn’t stingy with his words, or jokes. Here, Jake knew what to say, how to act. And Alva was reminded that for most of his life, this is what Jake was. A soldier. 

“We’re gonna need accurate scans on each column.” Quaritch said. 

“Roger that,” Jake replied. 

Selfridge moved around the table as if to better see what controls Jake was fiddling with. “What else can you tell us about the structure?” He asked. 

“Don’t,” Alva whispered, but Jake didn’t hear, and so secret after secret spilled from his lips. 

“The second ring is also load bearing.” He told them. “They mostly gather on the first two floors, but they’ve got sleeping hammocks spread through most of the middle layers.”

Max gripped the back of Alva’s dress and gently pulled her away from the sight and out of the room. Jake continued to talk but when the door divided them, his monotone voice faded away. 

‘So this is what Quaritch wanted him for’, Alva thought. 

“We need to tell Grace,” Max stressed as soon as they could no longer hear the meeting. 

“Yeah.” Alva agreed. “Did you leave my pills in the lab? I’m gonna need them.”

Previous chapter Next chapter

[troutfur]

I bring Lynxkit, a mottled black and red molly with striking blue eyes flecked with amber(I think that’s how your supposed to do this)

Lynxkit's chart:

[Image ID: Under the header “What will Lynxkit’s life be like? (02/19/2023)” 16 rows of tally marks crossed out two by two until there is only 1 or 2 left uncrossed. To the left, a shield chart at the top with the following geomantic figures: Albus as the first mother, Coniunctio as the second mother, Cauda Draconis as the third mother, Amissio as the fourth mother, Fortuna Maior as the first daughter, Coniunctio as the second daughter, Via as the third daughter, Populus as the fourth daughter, Rubeus as the first niece, Rubeus as the second niece, Acquisitio as the third niece, Via as the fourth niece, Populus as the right witness, Amissio as the left witness, Amissio as the judge, and Laetitia as the sentence. Below the shield chart, an astrological house chart with the first twelve geomantic figures above mentioned assigned to houses 1 to 12 in the order mentioned above. /end ID]

Interpretation under the cut:

The judge here is Amissio, loss, usually a bad figure but considering the sentence is Laetitia, joy, it seems it will ultimately work out. Whatever it's lost, Lynxkit will be glad to have lost it. The right witness is Populus, passivity and stillness, representing she isn't a particularly active player in this whole thing, and the left witness is Amissio, giving the idea of passivity in the face of this loss.

The first figure of the house chart, Albus, suggests we've got another candidate for elder in our hands and tells us a bit more of about why their reaction to loss was inaction. In addition to being the figure of wisdom and of the old, Albus is the figure of apathy. Let's inquire into the other houses to see why that is, shall we?

In the second house, Coniunctio, communication and connections. The house of wealth and material posessions is a constant struggle for me but I've taken to associating it with food and prey when doing these randomly generated bios, so this suggests to me a pretty particular character quirk for Lynxkit: being a pretty capable negotiator, able to talk other characters into hunting her favorite types of prey in exchange for her doing the same. I don't know what exactly in her desert environment she could be really good at hunting and what food she likes so much she's willing to trade her catches for something else she might not be able to hunt for herself. But there goes an idea.

In the third house, Cauda Draconis, endings and foregone conclusions. WELP! I don't know exactly what happens between her and her littermates/close platonic relationships but this doesn't bode well for her relationships and particularly in relation too...

In the fourth house, Amissio, loss. We see this repeated from the court and while I could make this the loss the court figures refer to, killing off a parent or mentor figure and her reaction being nothing doesn't mesh for me? Like, this should be a more significant side effect. I'll put this down for an initial loss that dulls the pain of a subsequent loss. (Which may be why Cauda Draconis in the last house popped up, could she be perceived as heartless for that reaction leading to close platonic relations forsaking her...?)

In the fifth house, Fortuna Maior, independent success! Good old friend! I always love having this one in either this or the seventh house because this means an excuse to add in singles. In this case a single mother. Good for her, love me some strong independent women.

In the sixth house, Coniunctio yet again. I'm choosing to interpret this in light of the second house and say that she's a very health conscious type of gal. Cats obviously don't know much of anything about nutrition, but I like to imagine in wanting to keep a varied diet with all her food trading, she is cultivating a balanced diet. Good for her. Good for her.

In the seventh house we have Via, motion and change. This probably contributes to her singleness. She moves on fast from a partner, can't settle down, single parenthood was the best move because ultimately she couldn't stay with a single cat. Bodes for a bit of a messy love life but she doesn't strike me as the type to be too torn up about it.

In the eight house, Populus. Precisely as we knew already, the reaction of stillness towards death is related to a death. And since the narrative of SandClan has already involved many a volatile and aggressive deputy, one of which even died by her own hand, I don't see being too torn up about it. Which of couse, may alienate her from her littermates or a close platonic relationship as seen all the way back in the third house. Another factor we established as part of our narrative already is the aggressive faction of SandClan so, members of that?

In the ninth house have Rubeus, anger and uncontrolled aggression. This doesn't seem to refer to herself, really, and it is the house of long journeys. It could be considered an obstacle within a journey, though with how generally chill Lynx is shaping up to be I don't know exactly what. Unless perhaps it is just in general the journey of life in case which, Rubeus was also the significator that gave me the idea of making an aggressive faction a strong presence in SandClan...

In the tenth house, Rubeus again. This reinforces my thoughts about Lynx being in a position where people dislike how callous, even joyful, she seems to be towards a death. If figures of authority are mad at her, that is pretty notable.

In the eleventh house we have Acquisitio, gain. And yet! She is not standing alone! She will gain allies that will back up her inaction. She doesn't seem to be in bad company at all.

And in the twelfth house we have Via, change. If change is an antangonistic force this jives very well with her characterization so far as someoe steadfast, who stands her ground in the face of opposition. This will, of couse, also lead to an entrenched attitude into her old age, pointing us futher to the idea of the elder character.

Putting it all together:

Lynxkit will face loss for the first time early in her life, when a parent or mentor leaves the world for StarClan's hunting grounds. Coming to accept death early, she will take on a largely passive attitude towards life, taking what she can get. Though she is conscious of her health and delights in simple pleasures such as tasting the varieities of prey of the desert, she isn't too torn up about her time coming. Always on the move, she is unable to settle with a partner, but is successful raising kittens on her own. She is very much unfavorable to the growing aggressive faction of SandClan and as a result during one battle she lets the deputy, a figurehead of that group, die by her inaction. Her littermates, themselves sympathizers, feeling extremly betrayed, denounce her and cut her off. She remains steadfast on nothing being her fault though, and though facing anger from many, she also finds support in her stance. Ever steadfast, she carries this attitude into the elders' den, now too fragile too really fight the turn towards aggression in SandClan but still being stubborn in voicing her displeasure.

Warrior name I'm thinking Lynxpelt.

[maxisdezign]

4. Photoshop - Homework

The task was to select 4 images, 2 B&W and 2 Colour and adjust the photo using what we learnt in class. I accidentally did 4 colour images, so I did a total of 6 photo adjustments.

Photo 1: The photo originally had a very strong blue hue tint to it, so I have corrected the photo so that the original colours are easily seen. The adjusted photo, does appear like an older style photo as the colouring is a little 'worn down', as if it is a memory photo from an album.

Photo 2: I wanted to make the forest appear spooky and more mysterious. To do this, i darkened the image, desaturated it and then added green tint in the colour balance options.

Photo 3: I wanted to make a hip, colourful, unrealistically vibrant image. I selected a normal image of some houses and put the saturation all the way up. I also adjusted the colour balance option to get a nice hue of blues and greens, with contrasting oranges and reds.

Photo 4: The original photo just didn't fit right with me, the colouring was very bright, but the photo itself appeared quite desolate and lonely so I decided to make the colours match the vibe i felt from the photo. I saturated it, and used colour balance to add blues, cyans and a little green to counter the once warm image, making it appear colder and more dull.

Photo 5: I thought these B&W flowers looked a bit flat, and I wanted to give them a bit more depth with modifying the exposure and shadows. I made a very subtle change, but I think it was worth it. I added a gradient mask which allowed me to then use the curves filters to make the bottom right darker, and the top left more brighter. I felt that these changes gave the flowers more depth as the shadows of beneath the flowers are now far more pronounced.

Photo 6: I felt that thing beautiful photo of deer was too bright/white. It needed to be darkened and have some shadows brough out more. So I used the curves adjustments to make the darker tones more pronounced in the image. But I also did some experimenting of my ow, and tried out the exposure adjustment and slightly modified the gamma correction, just enough to help bring out extra details and spots. REFLECTION:

I have found a new love for editing photos. This is honestly so much fun, its easy, relaxing, and its just great to repurpose and allow bad photos to show better colours and moods. I loved creating new atmospheres and helping some photos stand out more in the details. I am proud of each of my pieces, and I now might need to help my friends edit of of their photos for social media xD This was my favourite homework task.

[blurry-walker]

Carlisle and Esme Short Story

I have been seeing people discussing Carlisle, and Esme and Carlisle and Esme and I felt like writing something. I wasn’t worried with historical accuracy or complete fidelity to cannon events. Or time and space rationality really. This is just a darker take to Esme and Carlisle and how they  met for the first time, cause as I see it, for him to turn her later she must have left an impression on this 200ish old vamp. Considerably short work. Sorry for any mistakes.

Not Twilight, nor any of its characters belong to me. I just twisted it a little bit. 

__________________________________________________________________________

If Only I Knew How Right You Were

The afternoon sun hit her eyes at an angle that she knew would make them honey gold. It was a magical kind of uncomfortable. The stones by the river made her ankles bend this and that way as she balanced herself one foot after the other, her path a perfect straight  line for 5 blocks now.

Everson had asked her out that afternoon. She smiled and thanked and tried not to pay attention to how her heart squeezed in her chest, and her throat closed up even though she didn't like him back. He didn't take it nicely, but what gnarled at her was not his response but the fact she couldn't say yes. Not truly. So she didn't.

The sky was already turning a dull dark blue color by the time she got home. Mrs Platt chastised her for taking too long, tried not to smile back at her daughter's light hearted comeback and patted the girl's mane of caramel hair, now taller than the top of her own head. She hugged her tightly.

Her steps were heavy as she entered her room, and her sigh was long as she sat down in bed. A song played on someone's radio, the sky now dark, but for a small portion in the horizon, where the sun laid his rest, as her father said.

She loved that song.

__________________________________________________________________________

Esme Anne Platt was 15 and 8 months old, because she liked the childish stubbornness of counting the months as if they made you perceivably older. It made her feel younger.

She knew how to read, count, write, draw bugs and use a saw, but her dad said she shouldn't tell her mom that last part. She still kept the secret even though he wasn't around to get in trouble for it anymore.

In the afternoon she helped as a teacher aide at a downtown school, 2 and half miles away from her home. Walking made her feel like she was off to an adventure, the sort you usually read in books. It invigorated her, and when she got to work and Tim Manson smiled at her before sneezing on her clean skirt, she felt like one was starting right before her eyes. A different one everyday.

Esme laughed loud, smiled often, and would help people solve their problems as if they were her own. Would clean, and teach, and play with their kids as if they were her own. She wouldn't let the older kids steal your coins and there was no way you would win against her if you weren't prepared to throw her a punch. But no one ever was, because Esme shined.

She was shining gold in all the 3rd graders' eyes one beautiful afternoon when at 16, 3 months and 1 day old she fell from a tree, knee first, when trying to get a stuck ball back.

The bone was white as milk and the wound pomegranate red, it took a few seconds for the blood to spring up, first like a stream, that grew fastly into a river. Esme looked mesmerized at it. Then a kid screamed, then the rest, and then Esme.

That's how Ms Clove found them.

__________________________________________________________________________

The night was falling slowly, the temperature lowering fast. Things at the hospital lacked the fast paced desperation that would effectively get him out of his own head.

One more day goes by. And again again, ad infinitum.

When he first learned how to clean a wound, how to mend a cut, the miracle of pharmacology... It felt right, it felt like salvation. What else could be the forgiveness of a monster than the saving of souls, one more year, one more day for them to stand up and try again. A day after the other and then again, he felt closer to  the ones that shared with him the condition that he once had, but also more and more distant from any hope to actually get it back. Mortality, the rest of the deserving.

He felt lonely. Even those like him didn't share his beliefs, didn't share his doubts. They feasted uncaring as he starved.

Jesus, hung up on the pale blue wall, overlooked the moribund, and in between them the creature disguised. Carlisle looked back, sometimes in adoration, sometimes in spite. Hadn't the hunt, and the devotion in his name count for anything?  Why had he been cursed? Was it the innocent souls he couldn't stop from burning then? Was it the desires of the flesh that he could control but not extinguish? Would this hunger never fade?

He felt hungry. 

As he stood still he could hear the rasping breathing of the old lady at the corner, she didn't have much longer to live, her heart beating slowly, circulating the warm liquid like a calm stream inside her veins. Making the dried flowers smell seep gently from her fragile skin. His mouth watered and his throat burned with thirst. He swallowed the venom back and tried to listen further. At the entrance he could hear loud chatter, too loud for the hospital.

Something terrible must have happened, he smelt blood, there were three kids crying, a woman hysterically trying to explain the events to the receptionist while a man held another lady, away from his view behind the stranger's large form.

His approach calmed everyone down, maybe for his position, maybe for what he knew was a face most were stunned by. But not the young lady, a large red stained fabric wrapped around her left leg, her right hand caressing the head of a small boy that cried with his face pressed to her healthy tight. She smiled at him, eyes slightly glazed, face clammy and pale. She looked young.

"It's a pleasure to meet you doctor. I think I might need your assistance."

She smelled like crushed orange leaves.

__________________________________________________________________________

It took them a while to get to the hospital. And only a bit less for John to think of wrapping a shirt around her mangled leg.

It hurt, it hurt terribly. By the time they arrived she was feeling weak and cold and slightly confused.

Dr. Cullen was the name of the man that was mending her. He carried her to the cot and laid her down. Told her it would hurt but it would be fast. Ms clove ran off the cubicle right before the procedure began, leaving her hand empty in air and her heart throbbing for the teacher's distress.

It was fast, But when he pulled her leg to reconnect the bone's ends she saw stars. Her sweaty skin felt claustrophobic before, but when he pulled all there was was her leg, and him pulling it. It was cold and hot and sharp and pressure and pain like he was trying to rip her. She might have produced an unladylike grunt and a few swears.

 As soon as the protrusion was back where it should be though, it felt like he had grabbed the pain with his bare hands and taken it away from her. A surge of relief and gratitude so strong it left her dizzy rushed through her body, every muscle untensing. She gasped fat gulps of air.

He had her swollen leg in his cold cold hands, it made her shiver, her right hand holding his coat lapel tightly. His eyes were golden brown and curious, or maybe surprised. He had golden eyes and golden hair, and skin as white as her bone. He looked too young to be a doctor. Too handsome to be in Columbus, Ohio.

She fixed his lapel sluggishly, making sure she fixed every wrinkle she might have made with dragging fingers.. Her hand fell heavily beside her, but her smile was genuine.

"Thank you"

__________________________________________________________________________

Suture, gauze, morphine for the night. A night at the hospital for observation, considerable blood loss.

She smelled like crushed orange leaves.

A long note written to the mother, they lived far, it was late and she didn't have the means to be there. He would take care of her. Her work colleagues took the letter.

She was young. Esme. Ms Platt.

She had a restless night, but didn't wake up. Every few hours she tossed around, grumbled a name, gasped, asked a question, moaned.

She had looked at him disarmed and sweaty, exhausted. Her hair stuck to her cheeks as she smiled at him. Her leg trembled in his hands. "Thank you".

She would be fine in the morning.

Esme Anne Platt. 16. human. Smells like orange crushed leaves. Smiles like you just told her the happiest news. Always.

__________________________________________________________________________

The girl came back for a check up a day later, her smile still bright, brighter when she saw him.

She was spirituous, he found it endearing. She started seeking his attention, and to his surprise, he enjoyed it. For the next week he would meet her early at the hospital,  or late in the afternoon at church, or following her steps back home, promising himself he  wanted only to make sure she was fine.

“You look lonely Dr Cullen”

It was the way she always had something to say, the way she looked you in the eyes and really listened no matter who you were. The way her eyes turned stern when she was giving a lecture. The way her hands showed calluses uncommon to a school aid. The way she neglected her crutches and gritted her teeth when she miscalculated her movements, putting too much weight on her leg. The way she looked at him, eyes glinting mischievously when their gaze met at the church, the same eyes that glowed in adoration when she sang for Him, when she whispered under her breath "please lord, spare them"

Please lord spare them.

Please lord spare me.

Please lord spare her.

7 days went by and he sought her eyes, her scent, the shine of her hair, the peal of her laughter. Imagined what would happen if her flesh shivered feverish in his palm again. What she would look like sweaty and dizzy and grabbing onto him in something else but pain. If she tasted the same way she smelled.

He had to leave. Soon.

She was so young, so full of life, and love and the fierce spirit of those who believe what is right and fair will prevail. Of those who fought to make it happen.

Please lord spare me.

Please lord spare her.

__________________________________________________________________________

"Es- Ms Platt."

It was mid afternoon, a hot and dry Saturday. He looked surprised at her, like someone does when they are not expecting a visit. He kept the door only half open, hiding a dimly lit room behind.

"Dr Cullen, sorry to come without notice! I'm just passing by, I brought you something.”

He looked at the bouquet on her hands and then back at her eyes. He seemed to make a decision then and there, his expression slightly off, he looked different from the sweet but distant Dr Cullen from the hospital. Esme's smile fell slightly.

"You shouldn't be here by yourself, Ms Platt"

As he said it, he stepped back to let her in though. She looked surprised, but limped in, before thinking her steps through.

Esme rarely felt uneasy, but for some reason, every hair on her body stood on end at the sound of Dr Cullen closing the door behind her. His apartment was somber, and his eyes were alert, though his smile was friendly. He didn't move his hand away from the door, she couldn't say if he wanted to tell her to go, or lock her in there.

There are moments in a person's life when you try to maneuver around social situations to escape uncomfortable settings. Esme surprised herself when her brain started coming up with excuses to leave. This was Dr Cullen. Why did this feel off?

"I don't mean to disturb your afternoon Dr Cullen, I merely came here to thank you, quickly really, for treating me. I heard you’d be leaving soon… and I didn’t want to miss the chance to say goodbye. Thank you!" 

Her voice broke as she said her words. There was plenty more she wanted to say. But this was Dr Cullen, and she was Esme Platt. And his apartment was dark and he was still holding the door handle, still as a statue.

She extended the flowers to him. He stepped slowly her way, smile still polite, but his hands were cold, too cold for the summer afternoon when he wrapped them around hers to take the flowers.

"You can call me Carlisle, Ms Platt."

His voice was conversational, but his eyes were heavy. Esme had to, for the first time in her life, pay attention to her facial expressions. It felt like she should be careful. Like she shouldn't  be here. Esme was always true to her heart, but not now. She smiled back, but she was only smiling outside.

"Thank you… Carlisle"

He inhaled deeply, smiling, and turned away from her, taking the flowers with him.

Her eyes followed his form as he walked into another room, so unfamiliar without the coat covering his shoulders. He looked taller, thinner. The apartment was strangely empty, no photos, no decor, barely any furniture. There was a chair, right behind her at the corner of the room, and a coffee table. The curtains were all drawn.

"How have you've been feeling?"

His sudden words, though muffled, startled her, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. The sound of water feeling whatever he was putting the flowers in filled the air.

"I'm well, thank you. A little pain still, but nothing particularly important."

He came back and put a jar on the coffee table, slowly, speaking as he arranged the petals to perfection.

"Let me see."

Esme looked at him in silence for a long awkward minute, until he looked sideways at her smiling that same contained smile and pointed to the chair. She sat down hesitantly. Her heart drummed in her chest as realization downed heavily on her. Why did she come? Why did she come in? Dr Cullen was a man, an adult man, what was she thinking?

Carlisle step around the coffee table hesitant himself, she dared not look at his face as he knelt down before her and lowered his hands to the hem of her skirt, his thumbs pointing up as he brought the clothe up, losing momentum as he reached the middle of her tights, where he rested his hands on her bare skin for a moment before retreating them. Esme shivered.

He looked at her wrapped knee but didn't move, his breath hit the skin of her legs, frigid like his skin, one, two, three times. But he didn't move.

"Carlisle?"

When he looked up at her Esme's mouth went dry and the bottom of her belly tightened in a disconcerting fashion. She was afraid, there was no lying about it. His eyes weren't the exotic caramel color that she’d gotten used to. They were dark like burnt wood, like the shadows of his empty apartment, like the end of an unlit street she had no business wandering into. They switched from her left eye to the right, then back. She couldn’t move.

"Esme... you shouldn't be here."

He wouldn't look away. He wouldn't blink, and she couldn't make herself do it either.

"You'll leave, and heal and grow, and one day you'll have everything you've ever asked for. Do you understand?"

She didn't, but she nodded anyway. Her breathing was shallow, and as much as she tried to control it and not show she was distressed, oxygen failed her and her heavy breathes became just more apparent. He looked at her, still as a stone.Terribly beautiful. For a moment she questioned herself if he had really said anything. If he would have what he wanted from her and leave her marred and broken and ruined at a young age, like her mom said men tended to do to stupid girls who wandered alone into dark streets at night. For the first time since her childhood, tears escaped unrelated to pain.

"Shhhhh, I won't hurt you child. I would never."

His voice was pleading as he inclined towards her, and Esme wanted to believe him, so so much. That Carlisle would never hurt her, that he was a caring young man that put her back together and had only good intentions in his heart. But her heart and mind and body couldn't agree on what to feel as she sat in shock while his cold hand touched her neck, and his face nested into the other side, inhaling languidly, whispering softly behind her ear.

"You smell citrusy"

She closed her eyes as that knot in her belly tightened, and her heart thrummed and Carlisle, as if knowing exactly everything that was going on inside her, brought his face next to hers and looked at her hungrily.

"Go"

And he was gone. Like magic. Like a dream.

Esme gasped for air for a moment, trying to recollect herself. The apartment was the same, still dark. The flowers were still in the jar where he left it. Water dripped rhythmically on the other room.

She got up and left as fast as her broken leg could bear. She didn't look behind.

__________________________________________________________________________

Days later, when Esme went back to get the stitches off  she heard the news, Dr Carlisle Cullen wasn't at the hospital anymore. wasn't in Columbus anymore.

She felt a mixture of emotion when she heard it. There was something terribly wrong with Dr Cullen, Carlisle... but there was something terribly right too. She was afraid of him the last time they saw each other, when they were alone, that weirdness just came to the surface. But he hadn't hurt her, even though it looked like he could, it looked like he wanted to. 

She still dreamed of that afternoon in his apartment. In her dreams she was in the apartment alone and her heart would race and her skin go cold. Sometimes he was a shadow in the end of the corridor, a silhouette against the closed curtain, lit by the setting sun behind it, the sound of running water feeling her head like she was the jar. She would turn to leave but the door would be locked, no matter how much she turned or shook it. Sometimes she was sitting on that chair unable to move as he looked down at her with black eyes, as his cold hands grabbed her hips tightly, his cold thumbs caressing, in slow circles, the bones right above the top of her tights, under her skirt. Air flowed into her lungs in a desperate drag, suffocating her on the sweet sap smell that came from his skin. His lips would touch her neck as he whispered something, freezing lips moving slowly against her warm skin. From those she woke up sweating and ashamed.

Carlisle Cullen was her first love. The first man she feared. The first one she missed.

In time he became a what if. Then a bittersweet memory. Then that handsome young doctor that fixed my leg once when I was a girl.

__________________________________________________________________________

Esme grew, and gave up her dreams of moving across the line of the horizon and having her own classroom so she could stay close to her mom. She still smiled as the gray haired woman hugged her.

 And one day she said yes to Charles Everson, who couldn't buy her a fancy ring, but smiled like he had just plucked the reddest apple from the tree as she held his arm at the altar. She smiled too.

She also smiled at the bakery when she explained to the clerk  how clumsy she was, tripping down the stairs to avoid stepping on the dog's tail the previous night. The marks would fade with time, if only she stopped tripping.

People thought her smile looked lighter after the start of the war. She said she had to be strong as she waited for Charles to return. And then calmer as he did come back. Maybe now she didn’t have to be as strong anymore. Maybe he was strong for both of them.

No one knew, though, why Esme ran, that's what people said. But Mary from the bakery knew. And Ms Clove. And John. And Tim. And Liza from the church. And her mom. And her cousin in Wisconsin. One person didn't know though. The Baby.

__________________________________________________________________________

The sun was up, bright and hot.  She hadn't found a place to stay yet, and although people looked sadly at her, more belly and smile than woman, their sadness didn't outweigh her lack of coin.

"These are hard times for us Baby. I thought that winning the war would make people more forgiving than your dad. But I guess I'm wrong."

She caressed the mound lovingly as her stomach rumbled, and imagined the little stomach of Baby rumbling too. That wouldn't do. Sometimes in life as with children, and husbands, and wars, you have to choose your battles. And that's how her last resources were spent with a meal. Hers and Baby's last meal.

__________________________________________________________________________

When the contractions began she felt a little panicky. How long has it been since her stomach started growing? Should this really be happening now?

Her water broke. And she started really panicking then. The coachman took her to the hospital readily enough when he understood what the young lady was talking about and even forgave her when she ran, by herself, without paying.

She remembered getting in, and feeling with each minute that went by, that she would be ripped in two, or turned inside out, or explode in happiness because Baby is coming and it is everything.

She sweat, and screamed, and cried, and pushed! Just one more time, one more time and that's it. One more push and they will be here. One more push and she'll get to share a life with Baby. One more push and she will get to see Baby learn, and grow, and get hurt, and heal and have everything that they ever ask for; because she will give them all, no matter what it is, she will give them all, all of her.

__________________________________________________________________________

Two days later she was back on the street. They gave her an address, and a meal, but she didn't feel hungry. She didn't feel anything.

Her belly was still a bit distended but Baby wasn't there. Baby wasn't anywhere anymore. And she realized for the first time in a while, for the first time since she told her mom that yes, she would stay, that she was being true to her heart again. Because she didn't have smiles to give, and so she didn’t.

She left her little baggage a few streets away from the hospital, as it didn't make sense to carry it anymore. She didn't want to carry anything anymore. She had carried a lot for a long time, and right then and there she realized one more thing. Baby had been carrying her for a while too, all of her, and now she would have to do it herself. But she was tired, so she wouldn't.

She didn't know how long it took her to reach the edge, or how many seconds it took her to hit the bottom. She knew that it hurt, and that it didn't end like it should have. She remembered pulsing like an open cut for eternity. She remembered dreaming of that doctor, his black eyes, on that bone white face. Carlisle, and crying like she did on his chair that afternoon. Oh Carlisle, if only you knew how wrong you were.

Like that afternoon, he looked at her hungrily, touched his lips to her neck and whispered something.

"You still smell the same."

Then she burned.

__________________________________________________________________________

I Like to think that what drove Carlisle to medicine was his fear of God and what he had become. It is easy to see him as this always giving, always pure of heart vampire, but thinking about it now, it takes away some of his humanity. Humans are flawed and as the most human of the Cullens, Carlisle should be too. He had his doubts and interests and selfish intentions. And I think that his relationship with blood shouldn't be of complete control and easy disinterest, but of a constant resistance to torture, like a defiant proof that he was more than what destiny made him to be, that he could carry the crux given to him.

He was selfish when he turned Edward, and he was selfish when he turned Esme, even more than Edward as I see it. Edward was young and, allegedly, his mom pleaded for his life, but what drove him was a need for company and a strong connection to Edward.  Esme was almost dead and there was no one there to plead for her, no reason to turn her but that he wanted her for himself, and if Edward can’t go to hell, so can’t Esme… right?

[maxchallis]

Week 4 - Image Adjustments Self Tasks

Image Adjustment 3

There was also 3 of the downloaded images each needing an adjustment from one of the three learnt image adjustment menu's to do on our own. First of all there is this extremely dark image of a cat. The adjustment to make this image not so dark is just a simple curves adjustment, dragging the top of the curve left along the x axis till where the spike of light occurs on the histogram. I am happy with the image on the bottom right as an adjusted image.

Image Adjustment 6

This is the original image for the 2nd image adjustment that we had to do on our own, and off first glance I feel that it is way too blue.

So going along with thinking it looks too blue, I made an adjustment to the mid tones in the color balance menu dragging the slider away from cyan and towards red to counter this blue sort of tint that was on the image.

This one adjustment has almost made the image good enough though I thought I would make some minor changes in the curves and hue/saturation menu just to make every element in this image visible. For example making the curves adjustment though very slight makes the tree line in the background of the image more visible and not just and black line across the image also giving it texture. The adjustment in the hue menu was one of putting the saturation up as it almost looked a bit sad and gloomy whereas after it is adjusted it looks more warm and I also noticed the river in the center of view also popped out of the image more after doing so.

Image Adjustment 8

This is the last image on our self adjustment tasks that we had to do. Looking at it for a start I felt that it looked very dark and you could almost not really make out what was going on in the lower layers of the building so I did some slight curve adjustments.

After doing this I made a color balance adjustment so that the buildings in the forefront of the image don't look so dull and boring and look more browny yellow to what they would actually look like without all the darkness that is in the original image making them pop much more.

Lastly, I made a saturation change to just brighten the image up and make the sky in the background more blue as I felt it still looked a bit dull.

After doing these three tasks on my own I am feeling pretty confident in terms of Image Adjustments in Photoshop.

[ashmcfarlane]

Week 4: Photoshop

We have been working on adjustment layers in photoshop. We primarily focused on curves, hue/saturation and colour balance. Colour theory was very important in todays class e.g understanding the relationship between warms, colds, complementary colours, etc.

Curves is useful for correcting under or over exposed photos, messing with the blacks, whites, darks and lights. Much more range and versatility than using the brightness tool.

This was the first image we looked at, goal is to bring back life to this faded/over exposed image. Using the curve tool. I brought the bottom point to the left edge bottom of the mountain of coverage, then gave a slight curve to the top right. This enabled it to focus on the blacks being darker and the whites being brighter. Creating a much cleaner sharper contrast.

The Cat was originally a very under exposed and dark photo. Using the curves tool brought the points over to the left to make it brighter, making more whites than blacks. I had to be careful not to make it too bright so I can still see the fur textures in the face which has some shadows. Very successful with this one as the whites arent over powering the blacks, showing good balance.

Hue/Saturation is useful for changing the strength of colours and the position of colours in the spectrum. Good for photos taken in different moods, changing foggy to sunny or night to dawn, etc.

Used the hue/saturation to fix the photo of the villas, originally a very low contrast foggy photo. I played arround with the curve tool a bit to up the brightness (decreasing the shadows). I then added more saturation and lightness to eliminate the dull colours. At this point the vilas were looking too bright/warm so i put the hue down which balanced it out with some green. Making the image looks more realistic.

Colour Balance is useful for changing the relationship of complementary colours e.g cyan over powering red or vice versa. Can be applied to shadows, midtones and highlights.

It's all about balance e.g strengthening the warmer colours to battle the colder colours through the colour balance adjustment. If the image is bright, add some darkness. If there's over powering magenta, add some green. If the colours are dull, add some saturation.

Here I used colour balance on the shadows, midtones and highlights. For the mid tones and shadows (ground and mountains) I pushed the red higher (cyan<red) which helps give the image a warmer tone - For the highlights I pushed the yellows, helps making the the blues brighter (river and sky). Overall turned a cold image filled with blues and greys into a warmer image by increasing the warmer colours to balance it out.

I messed around curves and saturation and hues to show more contrast between the different colours of the image. This image has a very warm tone so I used a bit of everything to balance it out. I increased the colder colours through colour balance. Decreasing the yellow to add more blue in the grass, tree leaves and sky which is needed. Added more darker tones in the shadows to show more contrast of the tree trunks, pavement and the person on the right.

This is a fairly complicated image so I really enjoy the trial and error aspect of it, experimenting until the colours work well together and then learning why they work together. Found the last image the most difficult as i couldn't quite get temperature down without making the greens unrealistically blue. But i got a more subtle balance out of it.

Definitely need to practice with these adjustment options in photoshop. Very helpful for understanding colour theory, contrasts, balance between lights and shadows, midtones, highlights and hues.