#this site is so great at archival. i wish i could use it without feeling sick

[mewguca]

sometimes i feel compelled to delete this account

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[mcalhenwrites]

It's not that your writing isn't good enough. It's great! I'd buy all of your stories in hardcopy if I could. I think the community for writing especially for independent writers just isn't what it used to be :/ alot of the time nowadays people just read stuff on tumblr and just like it and move on without ever saying anything even in the comments. Rebloging is a big thing and works barely get that. And then on ao3 it's such a vast site and an archive for it's namesake that it can be really hard to find new works unless you're specifically looking for them. Alot of great authors get overlooked because of the way these sites are :c

I really appreciate you taking the time to say all this, thank you. I know it's hard in general for all creators - the internet has changed to be about fast consumption, then we had N/F/Ts, now we have AI... and yeah, being an original creator is tougher than fandom, bc you have to sell a new thing rather than offer potential of characters/ships/worlds people already love. ^^ That said, I'm not even getting the likes on my work most of the time. I get 0-3 average, but most of those notes on my work are my own (mostly) useless reblogs. ;A; It's discouraging every day, and I don't have enough "ups" to justify that I keep trying to swim while the rapids are pulling me toward total obscurity. I love writing, I love creating, but... it's tough to keep going some days, and other days the love for it makes me just go, "Well, I want to share this, I'm proud of this!" Only I feel so much shame when I'm proud of something and no one or only a couple of people even want to interact with it. Even finishing Seasons, the most popular thing I've ever written... I'm pretty sure most people dropped it. That said, most things do well enough on AO3 for me, though I feel like maybe a lot of people who were reading Seasons got disappointed before or because of the end, and they won't want to check out any of my other stories. Lots of anxieties about that. I don't know where I'll stand, but after 14 years of trying to get my work seen and being worse off now on socmed than ever before, and writing for over 30 years... y'know. It's. It's disheartening. I want to do it. I'm glad people like it. I'm kind of surprised that people do, when they do, because so many people were so happy to tell me what I was doing wrong for so long, and my writing has been the center of jokes more often than the center of excitement. ^^; (And there's probably both love and hate for it behind my back alike, but... honestly, I really wish people understood that you gotta express love to writers. Then I fear people will think I'm a hypocrite, but... *stares at my AO3 comments on fics I like* I don't think that's an issue. xD) Also, I'm sorry I am such a mess to the people who do like my work. It's just feeling unfeasible to keep sharing sometimes, if that makes sense. (Unfeasible to keep writing as much as I do, there surely has to be a way to use this time that actually makes money so I can afford to live lmao)

[angeloparker]

Random AO3 Points

I've noted the fandom is really still getting used to AO3 from what I can tell so I wanted to point out some things new users may not know and that I've picked up on from years on the site under various usernames and from interacting a lot with other writers/readers from other fandoms. For readers and writers.

For Readers

You can only give kudos to a fic once. So if you've given one on the first chapter of a story, you won't be able to do it again per chapter. Consider comments as a way to give feedback.

Collections are largely meant for events like challenges (big bangs, exchanges, etc), not for collecting your favorite stories. An unrevealed collection's purpose is usually to keep works concealed only until the challenge is over. If an author permits you to put a story in a collection and you mark it unrevealed for any variety of reasons, you wind up hiding that work from the rest of AO3 until the author either removes it or you reveal the collection again.

Instead of using collections use Bookmarks! It's a great way to find your favorite fics and you can make notes in them -- like memorable plot points, how you feel about it, or even a mention of where you left off reading. Please note, there are private bookmarks and public bookmarks. If you use a public bookmark, the author (and site) can see what you wrote about the story.

The archive is precisely that: an archive. Not a social media site. Why is this important? Because if you are looking for a fic or fic recs or to request a fic, you should not be doing it on AO3. Yes, in certain fandoms you'll come across "stories" that are someone looking to make requests, take requests, or looking for a story. The majority of AO3 users will report these and while it might take a while because their support team is made of volunteers, just don't do it.

Download your favorite stories. At any given moment an author could leave AO3 for any reason. You can download from AO3 in a multitude of formats, including PDF and various epubs to read on your devices. However, if an author deletes their work and you have it saved you cannot repost it and should only share it privately and even then do so in a way that is respectful of the creator's wishes if they had any.

For Writers

First of all: Engagement takes a while on the website, don't get discouraged.

Your kudos refresh in real time, your hits refresh every 30 minutes, so if you see your hits are 5 and your kudos are 6, it isn't a bug -- something isn't wrong. The system is catching up. Similarly, hits are measured within windows of time by visitor, so if some reads all 10 chapters of your completed fic, it will count as 1 hit and not 10.

Similarly to above, do not use a post to take requests. The archive is limited to fannish/transformative work. Use your Tumblr or Twitter to take requests or eventually it will get reported.

Placeholders similarly are not for AO3. An influx of Wattpad users have lead to people describing their story idea in a few sentences and posting it without any story written -- maybe to gain interest or maybe misunderstanding and thinking there is an algorithm they need to tap into for their fic to be found. Both are bad practice and will be reported and removed if there is nothing fannish/transformative in them.

There are mixed feelings when it comes to one-shot "books" -- or rather, one story where each chapter is a one-shot. In general, AO3 readers who have used the site for a long time will prefer them grouped by some kind of common theme -- such as the main pairing. When searching on the site, people like to look for certain things and filter them out -- so having a 50 chapter story of 50 individual one-shots with 50 different couples and individual tags is a nightmare and many users will skip past them since they can't discern what they're getting. Plus, you'll limit yourself in terms of hit count because of the aforementioned reason about hits refreshing.

A series is generally a better place to group things together, because people can still search out and filter out tags and things they do not want from your works page. I advise to only do a series if there is still a common theme. I have done them for things like requests and drabbles but only because I was uploading them all at once when I made my transition. In hindsight, I probably would have just made them separate one-shots but do like that anyone who made a request can go to those two series at once.

You cannot link to your Ko-fi, Patreon, or anything else that solicits for money for your work. You can, however, link to your social media site like Tumblr and if your Ko-fi/Patreon link is posted there, that's fine.

Utilize work skins for fun, visual and interactive elements. Tutorials do exist on AO3 and also Tumblr for the coding as AO3's CSS capabilities are limited.

Do not put in your author's notes, tags, or summary that if you don't get comments, you won't update.

Avoid being too self-deprecating with your summary and tags. I know tongue and cheek we're sometimes like "I suck at summaries" or "I don't know what to tag this" but it is better to make an effort and attract a reader than not give them enough to go on.

Tag appropriately. Especially for potentially triggering topics. For other things, ask yourself "is there enough of X in this story where if someone were looking for a story about it, they would be satisfied. If it's a consistent theme, tag it. If it's one character who appears for half a scene in a 20 chapter WIP, you can skip it.

Archive warnings: Use them. If you are writing about something that might be triggering to others but want to avoid warning for it to avoid spoiling your plot, you can choose the "Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings" and any reader should know that they could be getting into something. I personally like to just provide warnings because I would rather let people know and avoid them getting invested/turning them off. But the "choose not to warn" exists for a reason and you are within your rights to use it.

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" is not a catchall for any triggering topic. It's origins are from a television show and it was originally meant to essentially mean "does what it says on the tin, so don't be surprised with what you get." In other words, if you work includes non-con, graphic smut, various kinks, or elements that are an "acquired taste" you should not use the dead dove tag in lieu of those tags to describe a dark!fic. You should use it in combination with the appropriate tags as a way of saying "This really is what I say it is, so get involved at your own risk."

I'm sure I'll think of other things and come back and add to this eventually. If you, an AO3 user, disagrees with what I've said here, as I mentioned this is from my experience and a lot of time spent on subreddits and talking to other authors both in and out of the fandom. So feel free to make your own recommendations in your own post so newer users can get their own feel for how the archive functions for multiple people and craft their own experience while still being in line with the AO3 TOS.

[buglife]

Bend and Not Break - Ch 1: A Mark

Anonymous said: Not sure if someone has requested this yet, but I’d love to see how the cast would react to an assassin coming after Ghost or Quirrel. I mean, there’s gotta be some bugs out there who don’t adore the new sovereigns right?

Anonymous said: If your still doing these (if not I’m really sorry and please just ignore me) may I request 17: “Ok, well… Fuck.” With Quirrel and Ghost being his knight in shining armour.

Read here on AO3 :3

Quirrel looked in the mirror, sighing to himself as he regarded his reflection. He was due to make a public appearance today along with Ghost, so he had to look the part of a King. He still didn’t feel much like a king, not really. He felt more like he did when he was helping his mother run the archives, which was a lot of running around and keeping people from losing their fingers to explosives. It wasn’t all about preventing disasters, it was also about fostering the love of learning and the curiosity that makes society better. So in a way...he felt the same now as he did then. There was more paperwork, of course, but he was happy. It helped that he had a spouse to share the load with.

He fiddled with the ring on his left hand, the pale ore gleaming in the light. It had been made from Ghost’s old nail, with them having a matching ring. They had long since outgrown the old nail, and most of it was used in making the pure nail he now carried. Still, it was something special that their rings were made with the metal that helped kill a god and started the rebirth of Hallownest. Smith and Sheo were absolutely delighted to work on them, and now the both of them had completely unique nails and rings that will probably last forever.

Today was going to be a rather emotional day for Ghost. He remembered them telling him snippets about the Soul Sanctum here and there. They could only mention what they were comfortable talking about, and it wasn’t much of it that qualified as such. Sometime during their journey to end the infection, they had entered the Soul Sanctum and put down the mad scientist within along with his equally mad followers. Grandeurs of immortality and power was enough to corrupt any bug, but from what he heard, the ones involved went far beyond corruption. It was evil. Pure evil. Ghost usually stopped talking at around that point, and Quirrel found himself cuddling them as they sought comfort to ease what they cannot forget.

The worst day perhaps, was when the Kingdom had established themselves enough to expand beyond bare necessities. As soon as the funds was available, Ghost had the Soul Sanctum completely stripped down to the bare walls and floors. They had gone that day to oversee it all and when they returned, they could barely hold themselves together. They spent the night crying, mourning the lives lost in the pursuit of power. They had given the dead within rest, but it still destroyed them on the inside to have to return to that place. Quirrel did his best to help, and many a sleepless night was spent together, attempting to heal deep wounds within.

They had recovered, in time. Stripping the place had done a lot to help them move on from the experience, and they had decided to turn it into something new. Something useful that would help bugs and not harm them. Something that promoted life, not take them away.

Its where they were going today, to officially open it up to the public. Quirrel would be there not only as a fellow ruler, but as support for Ghost. Despite it all, it was going to be hard for them.

Quirrel smoothed back his antenna and tied his silk kerchief around his head. It was a necessary habit he picked up while growing up with his mother. After burning his antenna one too many times due to splashes of acid or a chemical reaction gone wrong, he tended to pin them back. They got in the way sometimes, but once in a while he felt safe enough to let them out. The palace didn’t really have acid, or volatile chemicals, but old habits die hard.

He clipped on his cloak, letting the study fabric fall around his shoulders as he pinned it in place. It was a lovely blue, nearly iridescent, and clasped with a pale ore brooch that designated him as king. There was no way he could ever bring himself to wear something as tacky as a crown. Hell, Ghost wouldn’t even be able to fit one on their head. Instead, brooches seemed to fit a whole lot better.

Once he made sure his nail was strapped to his side, he deemed himself ready, and exited the room - only to nearly smack into his spouse, who was opening the door at the same time.

“Oof!” Running into Ghost wasn’t as fun as it was when they were little. Back then their shell was soft and kinda squishy like any other grub. But once stasis ended and they caught up on all their missed molts, their chitin had become tough and hard.

“Are you alright?” Ghost’s telepathy was soft and gently breezed by his mind. It’s just something gods could do, apparently. Their sire could, Quirrel knew that as a fact, but the fact they also ate a god boosted their ability to communicate without relying on sign language. They only ‘spoke’ like this to family and friends, a little too nervous to use it on the public. Quirrel hoped that would change with time.

He didn’t blame them, though. They were terrified of being considered scary. They were certainly imposing, but not as much as their sibling, Hollow. There were those that will always be scared of them, with them being a god and immensely powerful. But enough of their subjects loved them enough to not care. He just wished they could see it. Quirrel considered them handsome and cute, but then again, he was biased.

“I’m okay love, I was about to go and find you.” Quirrel smoothed down the front of his cloak and picked at Ghosts, adjusting it around a little. “It’s nearly time.”

Ghost was silent for a moment, and then leaned down to softly bonk their forehead against theirs. “I know.”

“You’ll be fine. That place doesn’t exist anymore.” He did his best to soothe any lingering nerves. Being around Ghost for so long as alerted him to their various tells. “It’s a better place now. Much better.”

They nodded slowly and let out a deep breath. “You are right. It is just hard to let go of what it was.”

“I understand, it will take a while, but you are doing great.” Quirrel took Ghost’s claws in his and gently squeezed. “Come along then, we don’t want to be late to the dedication.”

Ghost tilted their mask up in a smile, and then nodded. They bent down to steal a quick kiss, one that Quirrel returned, and together, they headed to the Stag Station.

----

The Capital was bustling, like always. It no longer was the City of Tears, not with the new revitalization of Hallownest. The rain had been stopped, redirected with new plant life growing on the ceiling. Lurien himself helped renew the spells that kept the water from outright pouring out of the lake above. Without being constantly rained on, more bugs were out and about. Today however, they were gathering in front of what used to be the Soul Sanctum, waiting around a platform where their rulers would be giving a speech. Most bugs were eager to enter the newly renovated building, because it was for them, and them alone.

The Soul Sanctum, which had brought so much death and misery to so many lives, had been converted into a multi-level communal greenhouse. There, farmer bugs would grow a verity of food, which is then free to be picked and used by the public. Taxes from the upper members of society will be used to keep the place running. That way, no bug would have to go hungry. The intimidating and Gothic architecture of the building had been transformed into a pillar of glass and green. It was now friendly, the oppressive air from before banished into a place of shelter. Not only could you go there to eat, but you can go there to rest among some of the floors dedicated to flowers. It was a gift, from the rulers of New Hallownest to the people, and the people were waiting to be allowed in to enjoy it.

The five new knights of Hallownest stood in various places around the crowd. So far, they didn’t need to do much but remind some citizens to calm down and not crowd each other. With Xena on her beast (named Pickles, but only she can call them that), it was easy to keep everyone in line. Cloth stole a quick moment to wave to Myla in the crowd, temporarily breaking protocol, but it wasn’t like Tiso was going to scold her for that, since he did the same thing. Once he finished his quick wave to his other date friend, he scanned the crowd and recognizing a few folks from Dirtmouth as well. A lot of people showed up to this dedication, hell, he even spotted a few spiders and bees in the crowd. It just made him scan the crowd more thoroughly. Threats could come from anywhere, and he took security very seriously.

It wasn’t long before he spotted the Kings approach the platform and climb on, waiting for the crowds cheering to die down before they began the ceremony. Quirrel was doing the speaking today, Ghost standing beside them and holding his hand. Tiso remembered when Ghost was small enough to pick up and throw. It was lots of fun, but now they were too big for that. Oh well. As soon as the crowd’s noise died down, Quirrel tapped a speaking stone on the provided podium and his voice was projected outwards to be heard by everyone.

“Hello to you all, our dear subjects. Today we continue to do our very best to provide for you, our people, whom we dearly love and cherish. This site was a place of tragedy, and pain, part of the past of old Hallownest that was rife with corruption and oversight. But today we have washed away the dark and terrible past, to bring in the new, which is full of hope and life. We have -”

Quirrel had always been a good speaker. But Tiso wasn’t here to hear a speech. He heard it before, when Quirrel had asked him and his fellow knights to hear it and give honest feedback. Tiso had suggested Quirrel get to the damn point because nobody liked just standing around, so he thankfully cut the speech down by half.

There were bugs everywhere. Bugs in the square, bugs that could climb were hanging on buildings, bugs looking out windows, bugs on roofs, everywhere. Tiso scanned them all, eyes narrowed. It was no lie that there were bugs out there who didn’t agree with the direction the new government was taking, especially having another god as a ruler. Ghost and Quirrel had managed to piss off the right people. They were the folks that enjoyed profiting by gaming the system, and that system came tumbling down once Ghost claimed the throne. It got even worse when they married Quirrel, who was scarily smart. Quickly it became obvious that nobody was going to get away with old hustles anymore.

Quirrel continued talking, and Tiso continued watching. Then, something caught his eye. A glint of metal shined on one of the rooftops, a figure crouched down behind it. The glint moved, and Tiso’s heart went cold.

“GET DOWN!”  He shouted, and with a heft, threw his shield as hard as he could. Bugs instantly dropped to the ground and the knights gathered to the podium. The shield whistled through the air, and with a satisfying clunk, impacted the bug on the roof. There was a brief shout of pain, and then came the thwip as a crossbow bolt lodged itself in the podium. It was obviously aimed for the pillbug’s head, and it missed him by scant inches. Someone in the crowd screamed and it started a chain reaction of panic. Cloth and Ogrim took crowd duty, ushering the crowd into nearby buildings to get them off the streets and away from the danger.

Xena was already heading up to the roof atop her beast, the creature climbing up the sides with frightening speed. Tiso flashed his soul and recalled his shield, just in time to hear the bug on the roof start screaming once the beast reached it’s fanged maw out and grabbed them. He trusted Xena to keep at least enough of them alive for questioning later.

To add more chaos to the mix, some bugs in the crowd dropped their cloaks, revealing nails, and rushed the podium.

“No more gods! No more masters!” Some of them shouted. The sentiment was echoed by the other assassins as they parted through the crowd, not caring about who they knocked over or trampled in their haste. Bugs continued to scream, struggling to get out of the way as some were simply tossed aside to make way. Tiso could hear grubs wailing and the sharp clang of metal as some of the bugs in the crowd took up their own nails. They were valiantly trying to hold back the assassins, who cruelly cut them down and left them to bleed out. Thankfully medics were among the guards, and they quickly raced out to try and save the injured civilians.

So this was a coordinated assassination attempt, usually they were done by singular bugs. They must have gotten a little smarter. Tiso was about to jump into the fray, only to hold back when Hollow sped past him and body checked an assassin so hard that he could hear the chitin cracking from where he stood. Ouch.  He let Hollow do their thing and barked out orders to his guardsmen. They had to get everything under control, and fast.

However, the Kings of Hallownest were no pushovers. Quirrel practically teleported, moving with an insane amount of speed to kill an assassin with a flash of their nail. Since the crossbow bolt was aimed at him, Ghost was especially pissed. They were trying their best to not change into their true, terrifying form and completely destroy the square they worked so hard to rebuild. Judging by the extra three pairs of eyes that opened on their mask, they were barely holding on. Tiso did not blame them.

One assassin got lucky, moving at just the right time to scratch their nail along Quirrel’s side. He let out a hiss of pain and leapt backwards, ignoring the wound for now. He moved to retaliate, only to see said assassin become a smear of hemolymph on the platform. He glanced up to see an absolutely furious Ghost retract a void tentacle back into their body, still coated in a thin sheen of gore.

“Are you okay?” Ghost’s mental voice was now tight, louder. Quirrel could hear the rumbling of the void in behind, overlapping as the power of a god began to leak through Ghost’s control.

“Yes dear, just a scratch.” Quirrel sidestepped another assassin, bringing his nail around to cleanly slice off their nail arm. The assassin screamed, now missing an arm, and was quickly grabbed by Ghost and slammed bodily into the ground. Ghost then proceeded to kick them into the nearest building, cracking the stone slightly and leaving said bug a quivering mess.

As quickly as it all began, it was over. In total there were eight assassins. Three were outright dead, most due to Ghost. The rest were maimed and beaten bloody, but were alive. They weren’t too sure if the ones Hollow got to would survive or not. Either way, they weren’t going to get out of the situation alive, either by the executioner’s axe or dying from their wounds. Tiso had ordered the spare guard out, and there was a city wide search for more conspirators. There was no way to tell how many were out there, at least, until the prisoners were questioned. Something Tiso was going to enjoy doing so very much.

Ghost was panting, trying to calm down after losing their control for the bare moments it took for the fight to finish. Quirrel shivered, also breathing heavily. Adrenaline was surging through his body still and he doubted he’d be able to calm down anytime soon. Ghost had grabbed him, holding him tight as they too, shook. For a being designed to have no emotions, Ghost sure wore theirs on their sleeve, frantically patting Quirrel down for injuries. He knew what they were afraid of, and he stopped their hands with his to prevent their anxiety from taking over their rational thought.

“I’m okay love, it’s just a scratch.” He had time to look at his wound, bleeding blue. It wasn’t even terribly deep. It would just need some cleaning and some shell paste. If anything, it was making a mess of his cloak. The cleaners were going to have an absolute fit about it. He sighed as Ghost moved their hands to the wound, clearly worried.

“Your Majesties!” Ogrim hurried over. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, thank you. What of the assassins'?” Quirrel again, moved his hands to hold Ghost’s as he listened to Ogrim.

“Captured. We have guards scouring the city for anything suspicious.” The dung beetle looked about the now empty square, watching the assassins that were dead being dragged away. “Tiso and Xena are going to head an investigation once they interrogate-”

Ghost whistled, stopping Ogrims words. “I will interrogate them.”

“Your majesty, are you sure, you-”

“I am very sure.” They had since hunched protectively over Quirrel, arms like a gate around him. The malice in their 'voice' wasn't hard to miss, something Ogrim picked up on. He was always able to pick out the tiniest of details.

Ogrim bowed his head, but spoke plainly. “With all due respect, as your knight, and as your friend, I urge you to at least let the captain and his lieutenant do their job first before you decide to do anything.”

“Ogrim is right, love.” Quirrel reached up to cup Ghost’s cheek, hand oddly feeling weak. Perhaps he was still worked up? He started feeling a little dizzy, maybe he needed somewhere quiet to de-stress for a little while. He wouldn't mind retreating back to their bedroom to cuddle for a while. That should be able to do the trick nicely. Still, he continued with his advice. “You are too worked up right now. You need to calm down first. We both do.”

Ghost shook for a moment, and then took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Please tell Tiso and Xena to get as much from the prisoners as they can. I will be there shortly.”

Ogrim nodded. “Of course, Cloth and Hollow will be here soon and they will be able to escort you back to the palace.”

Quirrel started to say something and then was hit by a sudden wave of light headedness. He grabbed onto Ghost’s arm to steady himself as he momentarily lost feeling in his legs.

Ogrim and Ghost noticed that for sure. “Your majesty?” Ogrim questioned, reaching out a claw to offer support.

“No no- I’m fine...I’m..” The world twisted and a spike of pain and nausea punctured his gut. He suddenly couldn’t tell which way was up or down anymore. His legs gave out and through an increasing and concerning wave of numbness, he felt himself being caught.

“QUIRREL!!”  The mental shout was loud, and with it came more noises he couldn’t quite make out.

Ok, well… fuck.” The pain seemed to get worse, now a burning sensation that spread from the wound on his side to the very core of his body. His lungs hurt. His heart hurt. A disturbing wave of pain twisted around his limbs and went right into his brain. It suddenly got more difficult to breathe as he clutched his spouse with his claws.

He was dimly aware of someone screaming desperately, echoing around his head as he lost the ability to understand it, he was too busy gasping for breath.

The noises blended together until finally, there was nothing but darkness.

-----

“In you go, ya fucker.” Tiso not so gently tossed one assassin, a particularly nasty looking cricket, onto the stone floor of the dungeon cell. They had given just the bare amount of medical care necessary to keep them alive. The worst injury was the stump where their nail arm used to be, cleanly cut in half by the biggest nerd in the kingdom. “This’ll be your new home for a while, but it can get a little nicer if you decide to talk.”

“It won’t make any difference,” The cricket spat a wad of hemo on the floor. “I’m dead anyway.”

“True…” Tiso mused, leaning on the bars to stare the other bug right in the eyes. “But would you rather prefer a quick death, or being dragged kicking and screaming into the void? Cause let me tell you, I’d rather take a beheading over that. That shit is fucked up.”

“Typical of a tyrant.”

“You seriously calling the squirt and the nerd tyrants? I mean, they literally were about to open a public greenhouse so that everyone can eat before you idiots crashed it.” Tiso tapped his shield against the bars, making the metal ting in the most annoying way possible. He absolutely loved messing with prisoners like that, it made them slip up more often than not. Tiso learned more from pissing off the prisoners than he ever did 'nicely' interrogating them. “I don't know about you, but that don’t sound like tyrants to me.”

“All gods, are tyrants.” The doomed assassin moved to sit up, resting their back against the cold stone walls. Their movements were awkward, now that they were missing an arm. “The Pale King was. The Radiance was. Even the White Lady. Now we have an even more powerful tyrant as our king! We can’t keep letting ourselves become playthings for monsters!”

“Call them a monster one more time and I’ll feed ya to Xena’s beast, and the beast chews slowly.” Tiso narrowed his eyes at the bug on the other side of the bars. He could roughly hear the other prisoners being tossed in their cells as well. Judging by the echoes, they were spouting the same nonsense and getting zero sympathy for it. “You’re a fucking idiot, you think you can just kill our Kings like that? King Ghost killed the Radiance, for fucks sake!”

The cricket smiled through their broken mandibles, dribbling hemo over their cloak. “No, we can’t kill the tyrant, but we can hurt them.”

Tiso stared, shocked by the words. A very bad feeling sat in his gut, and was quickly vindicated when Cloth rounded the corner.

“Tiso!” she shouted. “It’s Quirrel!”

“Yeah?” The bad feeling grew stronger and he desperately prayed to whatever was listening, that the next words out of his love's mouth wasn’t going to be bad news.

“Quirrel...he's...He’s been poisoned!”

Tiso’s world went numb, and all he could hear was the insane laughter of the prisoner behind him.

[world-of-puppets]

Puppetry Lost Media

In honour of reaching 50 followers last week (now 55 followers, as of writing this) I decided to cover two subjects of great interest to me: puppetry (of course) and lost media.

Everybody online loves a good old bit of lost media. Whether it be being a part of the many searches for the media in question, or watching documentaries about them on sites like YouTube. I’ve been mildly addicted to the latter kind of content for a while. From what I’ve seen, though, there aren’t many videos or articles out there specifically covering lost puppetry. So, in no particular order, here are a couple of pieces of lost puppetry I found while scrolling through the lost media wiki.

銀河少年隊 - Ginga shounen-tai AKA Galaxy Boy Troop (1963 - 1965)

Osamu Tezuka is one of the most pioneering figures in Japanese art and animation. Starting as a manga artist in the 1940s inspired by the animated works of American studios such as Walt Disney and the Fliecer Brothers, he adapted and simplified many of the stylistic techniques of both artists to create his own signature style of big shiny eyes, physics defying hair and limited animation. A style that would go on to heavily influence the world of anime and manga as a whole.

But animation and graphic art were not the only mediums Tezuka would dabble in. Ginga Shounen-Tai, or Galaxy Boy Troop in english, was a television series that aired on the public broadcast channel NHK from April 7th, 1963 to April 1st, 1965. Running for 2 seasons with a total of 92 episodes.

The series was a mixture of marionette characters that utilised the Supermarionation marionette technique, popularised by Jerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds, and limited traditional animation. The story revolves around a child genius named Roy who leads a rag-tag group of heros around the galaxy in a rocket ship in order to revive the earth’s sun and later protect it from alien invaders.

Out of the 92 episodes that aired, only episode 67 still exists in its entirety with French subtitles, and the full episode can be found on YouTube with English subtitles uploaded by user Rare TezukaVids. According to user F-Man on the Tezuka in English forums, footage of episode 28 exists but with no audio, and episode 87’s animated segments exist without the marionette segments. F-Man also claims the reason for Galaxy Boy Troop’s disappearance is due to Tezuka not being proud of the series and having all episodes of it destroyed.

Personally, I think it’s a shame that pretty much all of this series is gone. From what I’ve seen in episode 67, it looks really charming. Tezuka’s signature character design style was adapted suprisingly well to marionettes, and the puppetry itself isn’t that bad either. I love the little face mechanisms like the blinking eyes, flapping mouths and others. It gives the puppets a lot of personality and charm. Like, just look at this old mans eyebrow mechanism and tell me you wouldn’t want to watch 92 episodes of this show;

Tinseltown (2007)

Tinseltown was a 15 minute sitcom pilot created by the Jim Henson company under thier Henson Alternative banner. The pilot was commissioned by the Logo Network and aired as part of the Alien Boot Camp programming block in 2007.

The pilot (and likely the series, had it been picked up by the logo network) features a cast of both puppets and live actors as characters. The premise revolves around Samson Kight, an anthropomorphic bull preformed by Brian Henson and drew Massey, and his partner Bobby Vegan, an anthropomorphic pig prefomed by Bill Barretta and Michelan Sisti, as they attempt to balance thier lives working in Hollywood with life as parents to thier sullen 12-year-old foster son, Foster, played by Paul Butcher. Other human characters included Mia Sara as Samson’s ex-wife Lena and Francesco Quinn as the family’s manservant Arturo.

The Tinseltown pilot used to be available on the Logo Network’s YouTube channel, but was later removed for unknown reason. Since then, the pilot has not been made available online. However the characters Samson and Bobby have made appearances in other Henson related works, such as the improv stage show Stuffed and Unstrung, where they played the role as the shows producers, and in a 2011 video on the Jim Henson Company YouTube channel celebrating Jim Hensons 75th birthday.

I find Tinseltown pretty interesting as I feel like it should be more noateable or known, considering that this is (as far as my knowledge goes) the first Jim Henson Company project featureing openly lgbtq characters as its leads, and would have been the first Henson show to do so had it been picked up. As someone who’s interested in lgbtq+ representation in creative media such as animation, I realised that there’s not many examples of canon lgbt characters in puppetry. The only ones aside from Samson and Bobby I could think off the top of my head would be Deet’s Dads from The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and Rod from Avenue Q. Though, obviously, there could be more I’m not currently aware of. I don’t think the Tinseltown pilot was a masterpiece or anything. After all, there’s probably a couple of good reasons Logo didn’t pick it up for a full series. But I think it be cool if either Henson co. or Logo made this available online again, if just so we could appericate it as an interesting little footnote in the history of lgbtq rep in puppetry.

With that said, considering the pilot’s obscurity and the fact that it’s main couple haven’t been used in any Henson Related projects in almost ten years, as well as the possibility that there may be legalities preventing the Henson company from releasing it such as Logo still owning the rights, it’s unlikely we’ll see the Tinseltown pilot anytime soon.

Sonic Live in Sydney (1997 - 2000)

Sonic the Hedgehog is a fictional character no stranger to multiple interpretations of him and his universe across a diverse range of media. From the more light-hearted and comedic stylings of The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog and Cartoon Networks Sonic Boom cartoon series, to more serious faire such as the Sonic SatAM cartoon and the Sonic Adventure videogame duology. One of the more obscure and stranger adaptations of the character came in the form of Sonic Live in Sydney, a one an a half hour live show hosted at the former Sega World Sydney amusement park in Darling Harbor, Sydney, Australia. Originally beginning as a live show with actors in meet-and-greet style costumes, the show eventually was replaced with a puppet show during its last two years.

The shows plot was set in an alternate timeline whos continuity was a mix of the SatAM cartoon and Sonic the Hedgehog 3, where Doctor Robotnik’s Death Egg crash lands in Sydney, Australia instead of Angel Island and attempts to take over before being foiled by sonic and friends. According to Phillip Einfeld of Phillip Einfeld Puppetoons, the company that made the puppets, Sega felt the costumed actor version of the show wasn’t dynamic enough, and wished to replace it with a version featuring live puppets with animatronics. Both versions of the shows plot are identical.

While Sonic Live in Sydney’s soundtrack is available on YouTube, and some photos of the show are available on the Lost Media Wiki, no footage of either the costumed actors version or the puppet show version have resurfaced. The show was closed down in 1999, possibly due to cost, shortly before the Sega World park as a whole in 2000. So unless there is someone out there who viseted the show between 1998 or 1999 who recorded the show via a handheld camera, footage of both incarnations of the show are likely forever lost to time.

On a personal note, I don’t have much to say on this one other than how gloriously peek gaudy 90s Sonic the set/puppet design is. I have no doubt finding footage of these puppets in action would truly be a silly delight to behold...

Legend of Mary (year unknown)

This one is a little different from the other entries on this list as while the film itself in its entiraty is available on YouTube for anyone to view, the information surrounding Legend of Mary, specifically its year of release, remains a mystery as of writing this.

I have mentioned the film before on this blog so I’ll keep it brief here: in summary, Legend of Mary is a short film retelling of the Nativity featuring the Rod puppets of Austrian puppeteer Richard Teschner. the video was uploaded to YouTube by user canada 150 archive. I looked up the people credited in the film and was able to find most of them, but didn’t find Legend of Mary listed in thier credits, and was unable to find the film on sites like IMDB, tMDB or Letterboxd. I reached out to Canada 150 archive asking if they had any info regarding the Legend of Mary’s release date, and after a coupe of months, they replied saying they didn’t know.

And that’s as far as I got on my search for answers, if anyone of you guys has any information regarding Legend of Mary, then it be of huge help in finding the release date.

Sam and friends (1955 - 1961)

Sam and friends was the very first puppetry television series created by Jim Henson alongside his colabarator and future wife Jane Nebel. filmed in Washington, D.C. and airing twice daily on WRC-TV and the NBC affiliate in Washington, D.C. from May 9, 1955, to December 15, Sam and Friends would mark the first apperence of Kermit (though not yet as a frog) and paved the way for Henson’s iconic and revered legacy in the realm of puppetry on film and television.

With the impact this show had in mind, it may come as a shock to some that almost half of Sam and Friends, specifically, 42 of the 86 episodes, are considered lost. With 16 existing, 8 documented, 9 known from memory, plus 8 existing Esskay commercials and 1 memory-known Esskay commercial. Some taped episodes have been shown at venues such as the museum of the moving image while others have been erased. It’s unknown if copies of these erased episodes still exist.

This post would become far to long if I were too list every episode missing from Sam and Freinds, but if your curious, the lost media wiki article has a comprehensive list of all lost episodes.

Annnd that about it for this post. This type of content is pretty different from the stuff I usually post. So I’m egar to see what you guys think about it. If you enjoyed this article, want to see more like it or have ideas for what puppetry-related topics I should cover in the future. And again, thank you all so much for helping me reach 55 followers. Your support really does mean a lot to me, and I hope you enjoyed this as a follower milestone gift.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this dip into lost puppetry, and have a happy holiday season!

[eryiss]

Chapter One - The House

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. It ended up becoming a multi-chapter, and I thought the first chapter should go up today, as a holloween gift. The next one will be published on thursday, and will continue on weekly.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter One – The House

Freed hadn't expected his mother's death to be so tedious.

He should probably feel more emotional about it. He and his mother had no ill-will towards one another – there was no tragic secret nor history of arguing or abuse between them – but he found himself oddly unbothered by hearing of her death. Not a numbness of any kind either, he felt very much the same as if a colleague had told him their mother had passed. It was just an event that had happened, and something that affected his life, but not his emotions.

His apathy probably came from the fact he and his mother hadn't spoken for years. Again, not for any great reason, just because they didn't. He and his father had always been closer, and when he had died four years prior, Freed had grieved and got over it as best a person can. His mother was the worker of the family, and thus the emotional relationship hadn't been as strong. Neither had made an effort to connect in their adulthood, only really linked by his father. And so once he had passed, there wasn't really any reason to speak. Neither person was overly emotional, so they didn't seek comfort in one another's arms, and instead just drifted off.

And so, the death of his mother was tedious.

Death was followed by a lot of things. The need to plan a funeral, people being completely unaware of how to act around him, and an odd amount of pity coming from people who didn't know him at all. Freed was something of a pragmatist, and as such it became an experience he didn't want to repeat. At least with the death of his father, he'd had his sadness to distract him. But this was just, well… tedious.

Perhaps the worse thing to have happened occurred two days prior. As was customary after someone passes, there was a reading of the will. A pointless exercise for this instance, given Freed had literally inherited everything. Freed knew this already – he was his family's lawyer for god's sake, he drafted the damned thing – but he still had to attend the reading. So, for an hour in a busy work week, he was forced to travel down two floors in his building, and sit there while another lawyer – Natsu Dragneel, who had actually interned under Freed for a year – explained the law and what the will meant. To the man who had taught him it!

Further adding to the annoyance of the situation, almost everything he'd inherited had strings attached. There was a lot of debt, from both loans and gambling, apparently. Freed's credit score was going to take a hit, given how much there was. There were also her belongings, which he would have to look through at some point. She also apparently owned property, which was now his.

This would be good, had it not been for its location. Freed's life was centred in the city, this house was in the middle of the countryside, miles from what Freed considered civilisation. Why she had owned a house there was beyond Freed, she was more metropolitan than him; she lived in Era and Era alone. But unfortunately, now it was his.

So now, he was nearing the end of a three-and-a-half-hour train ride.

He was going to sell the place, of course. Why his mother hadn't done so confused Freed, given her debts. Property values were high in this area, many rich older people wanted to retire there, and a three-bedroom cottage was perfect for that. But he needed to see it, speak with estate agents, and sign away the rights. All in all, tedious.

When he got off the train, he was hit by how different it was to Era. It was open, the air smelt different and it looked like an illustration from a Victorian romance novel. All very idyllic, but Freed had no intention of staying long enough to appreciate it. Instead, he located the taxi service, and ordered a car to his new property.

Apparently Uber hadn't arrived there yet.

The car came soon enough, and after a few failed attempts to illicit more than a curt answer from Freed, it was a quiet ride. It took about forty minutes, and Freed watched as fields passed by, the atmosphere dampened by the scent of manure filling the air. People raved about the fresh air in the countryside, but Freed much preferred the smell of petrol and faint piss of Era to literal crap. Better the devil you know.

Thankfully, the smell of muck spreading was interrupted when his phone lit up. He glanced at the contact name – 'Estate Agent' – before lifting it to his ear and accepting the call. He needed an evaluation for the property, and apparently this man was the best in the area. Hopefully the fastest too.

"Mr Clive," He greeted, leaning back.

"Mr Justine," The estate agent replied in a more jovial tone. "Just to let you know, I'm at the property and waiting for you. There's been a few evaluations over the years and they're all pretty similar, so it shouldn't take long."

"Thank you," Freed nodded to himself, glancing past the front seat to see the GPS saying they should be at their destination in about five minutes. "I'll be there soon."

"Great," Gildarts' grin was audible in his tone. "Sorry that you had to come down here to deal all of this."

"It's not your fault," Freed said placatingly, though not honestly. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Gildarts grinned.

"Why had it been evaluated before?" Freed asked, brows furrowing slightly.

"Apparently your mother has tried to sell it a few times. Twice with independent online stores, and once with an estate agent. Clearly it didn't go well," The man laughed. "But we'll be more successful. We know what we're doing."

After some pointless pleasantries, the call was ended. Freed found himself frowning; a cottage in this area should have been sold without any difficulty. The fact this one hadn't, despite its perfect position and seemingly positive qualities, didn't bode well. He tried to be optimistic, but at this point, it was almost certain that even selling the house would further add to his annoyances.

It was ten minutes later – it took longer than expected because he got caught up in traffic caused by a heard of cows crossing from one field to the other, followed by an uncaring farmer who glared at the taxi as if it were an affront to his lifestyle – when he saw the house.

It was clear as to why his mother couldn't sell it.

The place was practically derelict. In its prime it would have been the ideal village cottage, with white walls and a slated roof. It would have had a garden filled with perfectly trimmed flowers, a large but well-groomed oak tree, and most likely a cliché dog running around. Unfortunately, the house's prime was clearly centuries ago because it embodied the world decapitated in a way Freed had never seen. The roof was falling apart, the garden filled with so many overgrown plants nothing else could be seen, and a window was hanging out of the wall. It was unliveable, and practically unlovable.

Perfect. His mother had left him debt, three wardrobes filled with wrinkled clothes, and a building nobody could use without a death wish. Now his hopes of selling the place was unrealistic.

As he approached the building, a man made his presence known by leaving a car with a smile on his face. He was older than Freed, in his late forties if Freed was being kind, and he gave a polite 'Hello' as he approached. It was clearly the estate agent, who was showing a lot more optimism than Freed felt at that moment.

"Mr Justine, nice to meet you in person," He greeted.

"Likewise," Freed nodded, though his tone didn't reflect the sentiment. Gildarts laughed.

"I can see from your face that you were expecting something a little… different," The man chuckled, and Freed found himself annoyed by the man's enthusiasm. "You probably thought it'd be a little more liveable, didn't ya?"

"Something like that," Freed agreed, looking at the building almost accusingly.

"Well if it's any kind of relief, the building's structure is actually very secure. I won't lie, there's probably hundreds of problems going on in there, but at least the roof isn't going to collapse on our heads," The agent laughed, and in any other situation it might be less grating. "I can explain the details as we look through it, I'm sure that you want to get this done quickly."

"If that's possible."

Gildarts nodded, then jogged back to his car. When he returned, he was holding two hardhats that one would see on a building site, and Freed looked at it warily. Gildarts smiled and patted him on the shoulder with an unneeded amount of strength.

"The roof itself won't fall, but there's always a chance that the ceiling tiles might, so we can't be too careful, can we?" He chuckled loudly, placing on his hat, and walking into the building. Freed, after a moment of hesitation, joined him.

~~~

"So, you're sayi-" A small scratch. "-basically unsellable."

Freed ground his teeth together slightly. He was pacing down a village high-street, holding his phone to his ear and trying his best to listen to Evergreen's stuttering voice. Apparently random country roads were perfectly fine with phone signals; but for the most built up area for miles, it was practically impossible to have a conversation without some kind of interference. It was something very quickly grating on his nerves.

"Essentially, yes," Freed sighed, sidestepping a couple walking towards him. "It's too run down for anyone to want to buy it. My estate agent said the best thing to do is to see if a property auction will take it and sell it cheap."

"Why don't you-" Another scratching sound. "-it down. Sell the land-" A quick, high pitched noise. "-farmer or property developer."

Freed's muscles tenses slightly at the suggestion. He had thought about that, but of course when he had told Gildarts that it was the logical course of action, the man had looked at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. He had then patted the man on the shoulder – again making Freed's body jerk slightly with the power behind the action – and added another layer of annoyance to this ridiculous situation.

"Apparently it's a listed building, and has some kind of historical preservation status," Freed sighed, slowing slightly when the buzzing on the phone went quiet. Hopefully, he had a stronger signal now. "Essentially meaning, the building has to stay."

"If it's so important, why did they let it get so run down?" Evergreen asked, voice clear now.

"They didn't, my mother has been receiving phone calls and letters from local council about it for years," Freed wiped at his eye with his free hand, deflating slightly. "Which I will now be getting, I suppose. Along with the letters and phone-calls from debt collectors, no doubt."

"How much would it sell for as it is?"

"Optimistically, 25 thousand. Since you can't make any modifications to the outer building, something in this state is hard to get customers for."

It wasn't anywhere near enough to cover his mother's debts, even when combined with the savings he was unwilling to give up. Though a successful corporate lawyer and having saved a substantial part of his earning for over ten years, Freed was by no means rich. His family came from money, but never gave any to him as they wished for him not to be spoiled. So far it hadn't mattered, but now with six figures of debt from nowhere, his comfortable life seemed unstable. This wasn't helped by the fact he only wanted to use his savings as a last resort; he'd saved this money for himself, not to give to online casinos because of his mother's apparent addiction.

"Couldn't you make it a bit more marketable," Evergreen suggested, and Freed found himself irrationally irritated by the chewing he heard. They were colleagues, and he knew that her lunch break wasn't for another hour. "Tidy it up slightly."

"It's not run down, it's unliveable," Freed grunted. "The windows are boarded up, the garden practically a jungle, bare floorboards, furniture that is practically rotting, and a bird had nested on the oven."

"Maybe plant some flowers and bake a cake when showing people around," Evergreen joked, and Freed almost laughed.

He couldn't resent his mother. He did love her, and perhaps if he had made some kind of effort in talking to her then maybe the debts wouldn't have happened because she could talk to him about her gambling. Of course that regret was pointless now, thinking about what he could have done wouldn't change anything. He just had to deal with the consequences.

"You'll figure something out," Evergreen spoke up again.

"I know," Freed nodded. "But I'm not quite sure exactly how, yet."

"Well, I've just checked, and there's a nice-looking hotel near you," Evergreen smiled, and Freed could hear the clicking of a computer mouse through his speakers. "All good reviews, apparently a brilliant kitchen and very nice staff."

"Good for them," Freed said with furrowed brows.

"I've booked you a room," Evergreen declared, clearly grinning. Freed went to speak but Ever went first. "You're staying there for a week. You can either spend it thinking what to do next with your house, or just have a nice break, which you're overdue. Climb one of the mountains or something. I'll have a suitcase sent down with everything you need."

"No," Freed said firmly.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, dear," Evergreen smiled. "And I've already paid for it. If you stay, consider it a gift. And if you don't, you'll be in even more debt, and I'm much worse than any bailiff you can think of, and we share an office, so I will make your life miserable."

"You're both blackmailing and threatening me," Freed grunted. "I could technically sue you for workplace harassment."

"Yeah, but you're my lawyer so you'd have to argue with yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Which you could, you've got an ego big enough you probably crop up on those reddit pages about people who think they're really smart," Freed let out an indignant sound at that, and Ever just laughed. "Just take some time off, you know you have to have a week off eventually. Why not just do it now? Enjoy the countryside, smell the fresh air, read a book."

"I read constantly, the fresh air is laden with the scent of literal shit, and so far the countryside is a pointless expanse of green that makes me want to take on more cases against environmentalists."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Find your hotel, get yourself a drink, and relax for a week."

After a second of consideration, and a deflated sigh, Freed spoke again. "What's the hotel called."

"Fairy Tail Inn," Evergreen read aloud. "Sounds a bit cliché, but the rooms look great and the reviews are all good. Should be at one end of the high street, at the top of the hill."

Freed looked back over his shoulder, he had walked past the hotel in his search for a reliable amount of signal. He hadn't paid it much attention, as it was at the start of the conversation and he'd been attempting to understand any of what Evergreen was saying, but it looked nice enough. The only real reason he had actually remembered the place was because he was fairly sure they had mistaken the two spellings of the word Tail. He started to walk back up the steep high-street, telling Evergreen that he knew where the place was.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Evergreen smiled, and the buzzing on the phone returned slightly. "See you in a week. Oh, and text me a picture of the house when you're tetchy so I can make fun of you. Bye!"

She cut herself off before Freed could reply, and the lawyer rolled his eyes slightly.

When he reached the top of the hill, he walked through a quaint beer garden and into the Fairy Tail building. He was confronted with a small front desk, behind which a woman with a light bob smiled up at him. He walked towards her, scanning the name tag – Lisanna – before she gave a polite introduction to the hotel.

"Are you here to eat, or to stay sir?" She asked, voice enthusiastic and happy.

"To stay," Freed explained. "I believe my friend just made a reservation for me. Freed Justine."

"One moment," She smiled, leaning down, and typing on the computer.

As she worked, Freed glanced around the lobby area. From the outside, the building had been incredibly rustic looking, and Freed had feared slightly that it was going to be as old fashioned and outdated inside as well. But it was contemporary, clean, and relatively nice. It was clear that it was made to look farmhouse-ish while keeping all the needed amenities, making a distinction from the branded hotels while also keeping to a high quality.

They had a few certificates hung on the walls, mainly hotel awards from different companies. There was also something proclaiming 'MAGNOLIA: Village of the Year 2019' in proud prominence. Freed vaguely wondered if this was something all businesses got, or if Fairy Tail was some kind of hub for the town.

"There you are," Lisanna said suddenly, and Freed turned back to her. "Room 17. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you there. I can carry your bags if you'd like."

"I don't have any bags with me, actually," Freed said, and Lisanna looked at the floor with a frown to confirm his words. "This is rather impromptu, I'm afraid. I'm having a suitcase sent down here, I expect it'll be here tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Lisanna smiled, though Freed could clearly see she was somewhat confused. "What brings you to Magnolia, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get many people here in autumn, you're our only guest actually."

"It's not for pleasure," Freed explained. "I inherited some property, and selling it isn't as easy as I thought, so I'll be here for a little while."

"Is that the Albion House?" She asked as they turned a corner.

"Yes," Freed answered a little slowly.

"Oh, sorry, that probably sounds a bit creepy that I know it so fast," She laughed. "It's just that news sort of travelled about it getting a new owner. It's been run down for a while, and people thought that maybe the new person would try and renovate it. But if you want to sell it then that's your choice of course, I hope it goes better than it did with your mother-" She stopped talking, and clearly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For your loss, and for that."

"You don't need to do that," Freed waved her off. "I'm not going to start crying at the sound of her name."

She looked relieved at his reaction, and Freed tried not to show a small scowl on his face. The young woman hadn't done anything wrong, but the fact she knew both the house and the fact his mother had died meant that other people knew as well. He had hoped that, at least for one week, he wouldn't have to deal with people knowing about his bereavement. Apparently he wasn't even going to be given this.

"Is the house important for some reason?" Freed asked as they climbed the stairs. "It's got historical preservation, and you said people were interested when they found out I own it."

"Not exactly," Lisanna smiled. "I think all the buildings in the town have that status, they want to make it look like it did when it was made. Personally, I think they do it because the council makes a lot of money from film shoots coming here," She laughed a little. "And we're a fairly small community, so news gets around. They were the same when it got sold last time, actually. They thought it'd get renovated too."

"So my mother wasn't the reason it looks like it does, then?"

"I've never seen it in a better state," Lisanna shrugged, before pausing in thought. "I think there's a painting of what it used to look like in your room. That's a coincidence."

She laughed to herself before continuing to walk, Freed following her. They walked through a few more corridors and up another staircase before they stopped at the old looking door of one of the rooms. Lisanna pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, revealing the room that was to be Freed's home for the rest of the week. Freed walked in after, and looked around.

It was a nice room, also designed to look like it belonged in a farm house while still being relatively luxurious. It was on the smaller side, clearly Evergreen hadn't wanted to spend too much if the single bed was telling, but nice enough. A private bathroom, TV, and area for making drinks. It was essentially everything one could want from a hotel room. Although the fact that the slanted roof above the bed was low did make Freed pause; he would have to make sure not to bang his head when he awoke.

His eyes fell to a painting on the wall. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the house he'd been inside, only in a much better state. It looked rather homely.

"It's nice, isn't it," Lisanna smiled. "I think that's why people want to see it renovated. Just because it's nice."

"Well, perhaps soon it will be," Freed mused. "I'll most likely have to sell it to a retail auction, they often attract people looking for cheap property to work on, or so my estate agent said. So perhaps that'll happen."

"You don't sound enthusiastic about the idea?"

"I was hoping for more than an auction house would be willing to pay, I must admit," Freed sighed, still looking at the painting. "It's a last resort, but I doubt I'll find a better offer over the next week."

"You could renovate it and sell it when you're done?" Lisanna suggested.

"My knowledge of property development extends to the legal side only," Freed chuckled to himself. "If I were to try and work on it, there's a good chance I'd set it alight. I expect that doesn't align with the preservations society's rules."

"I suppose not," Lisanna laughed. "I should get back to the desk and leave you alone. Breakfast is served from six until twelve, you get it included in the price of the room. And if your bags come I'll bring them up for you, or have my brother do it since he's working the desk tomorrow If there's anything else you need, just call reception," She smiled. "And we hope you enjoy your stay."

Freed watched her leave, before standing alone in the room and letting himself decompress for the first time since he arrived.

Peculiarly, he found his gaze land on the painting.

[maybankiara]

I HAVE COME TO SAVE THE DAY

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: JJ is a postman and Kiara is his favourite receptionist (alternatively, 4 times Kiara didn’t know JJ’s name and the one time she did).

w/c: 5k

a/n: i posted this on ao3 back for jiara week and totally forgot to post it on tumblr, too, so here’s a belated jiara fic, a short ‘lil enemies to lovers trope for y’all!!

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

1: J.

‘Carrera Law Firm, how may I help you?’

  The guy standing in front of Kiara in a postman’s uniform gives her a glance that’s part-question part-disbelief, and then points at the device in his hand. ‘Delivery for Anna Carrera.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  Blood rushes to Kiara’s cheeks as she clicks the button on the desk telephone, reaching her mother within seconds. 

  ‘Just sign it in,’ says her mother. 

  ‘Okay.’

  She hangs up and looks at the guy, extending a hand. ‘I’ll sign it.’

  He gives her a slight eyebrow raise and she may or may not see a hint of wickedness in the tight corner of his smile as she takes the device from him. She’s quick to sign it, with a shaky hand, and give it back to him. 

  ‘You’re new here.’

  Kiara nods, says: ‘Yeah, it's my first day’, even though it was a statement, not a question. 

  He stares at her for a hot second with the same expression, and Kiara expects him to ask something else, make it a conversation—it seemed like a conversation starter—but he doesn’t even acknowledge her answer. 

  ‘Where do I put this?’

  There’s a slight thud and she leans across her desk, seeing a medium-sized box with his black combat boot right next to it. 

  Her lips purse as she realises what he’d done, and decides she dislikes him. 

  All she wants to do is tell him off, that could be fragile, but she’s new and he seems cocky and reeks of trouble enough to make her bite her tongue. 

  So all she actually does is lean back into her chair and nod towards the wall to her side. ‘Just leave it there.’

  He does so without a question, and on the way out, gives her a two-finger salute. 

  Kiara checks the paper slip he left on her desk, finding his name with ease: J. Maybank. She thinks of his short but shaggy blonde hair, rugged and self-satisfied appearance that oozed confidence, and yeah, he looked like a boy whose name begins with J.

  It’s not the most awkward conversation/situation she has that day, but it’s the most memorable one, mostly because she can't get his smirk out of her head for more reasons than just one (and far too many of them she’d never admit). 

  She decides she hates him, anyway.

2: JOHN

The next time he comes, it’s Friday and Kiara’s got the hang of it, so she wags a finger at him to tell him to wait as she picks up the ringing phone. 

  ‘Carrera Law Firm.’ 

  She talks with the customer—a lovely lady, has the misfortune of living next to a new construction site—for a little bit, laughter falling from her lips. It’s Friday already and she’s gotten better at this, more confident, and making J. Maybank wait on her is worth it. 

  (It’s not a personal vendetta, per se – more of karma, really.)

  She watches him shift weight from one leg to another, hands resting in his pocket. He’s got a slouch to him, the ease in his shoulders making him seem as if anything he wishes for, the world gives him. Kiara’s friend Sarah calls boys who stood like that suave, but Kiara calls it arrogance. 

  The same half-smile with the same dose of wickedness in its curve is mocking her when she bids farewell to the lady on the phone. Her back is resting against the chair and a pen slides across the paper, before she actually looks at him. 

  ‘Delivery?’

  J. Maybank reaches into the side of his backpack and takes out a handful of letters, placing them on the desk. 

  Kiara frowns, because he’s still standing there. ‘Do I need to sign those?’

  ‘Nope.’

  He doesn’t budge and neither does his smile. 

  She collects the mail and goes through it, separating them in piles for each of her mother's employees. It takes her a couple of seconds, but J. Maybank’s gaze on her burns on her cheeks and makes it last a whole eternity. 

  Her glance at him comes in pair with a single raised eyebrow. ‘Can I help you?’

  J. Maybank puts his fingers on the desk, tapping one of them. ‘I can leave a message with you, right?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Okay’'

  He nods. Kiara notes his fingers are shaky as he reaches into his pocket, taking out a pen and a piece of paper, even though there’s a bunch of both already on her desk for this exact purpose. 

  He scribbles down a note and folds the paper in half, hiding the text. He slides the note towards her, fingers still shaky. It’s a far cry from the overconfident, cocky person he was a mere minute ago. 

  ‘I looked up on the internet and it said that you offer free consultations, right?’

  Kiara nods. ‘Mostly, yeah. Depends on what you need.’

  ‘Family law,’ he elaborates. 

  ‘Then a consultation is free. It’s Mrs Viola Glisson’s department.’ Kiara puts her finger on the note and she wants to open it, to see what he’d written. Instead, she swallows dryly. ‘Do you want me to give this to her?’

  He nods. ‘That’d be great.’

  No thanks comes her way, only a smile that is innocent for less than it takes her to blink. He gives her the same two-finger salute and is back to the cocky J. Maybank in moments, and Kiara hates to admit that she can’t take her eyes off of him as he walks through the glass door. His uniform doesn’t fit the aesthetic of the building, nor Kiara’s smart black trousers and a red t-shirt with a propper-up collar and a zipper on the cleavage, but he doesn’t look out of place. 

  As soon as he’s out of sight, Kiara’s fingers take the paper note, ready to give it to Viola, a woman who grew up with her mother and Kiara dated her son James back in middle school. She’s planning to give it to Viola immediately, no wicked intentions, but J. Maybank’s face pops up in her mind, complete with the self-confident smirk. She gives in with a sigh, thinking that he deserves her snooping for the way he’s been acting. 

  To her disappointment, the writing is just a phone number with John Maybank written underneath it. 

  She hands it to Viola with a sigh, offering no information to go with it. Viola reads the note and a knowing look spreads over her features. ‘Maybank, the postman, right?’

  Kiara nods. 

  ‘He’s about your and James’ age, no?’

  ‘I guess.’ Her face flashes before her eyes and she places him in her school corridors with ease. She knows he doesn’t go to the Cooke Academy because a face with demeanour like his would stand out. 

  ‘He’s a good kid, Maybank. Mowed our lawn a fair amount,’ Viola muses to herself. Her fingers flip through a stack of papers and she writes something down, looking up at Kiara. ‘Did he say what he needed?’

  ‘Just a consultation with Familial.’

  ‘Hm? That’s interesting, might be about his father... Can you bring me a cup of coffee on your way out? You make the best coffee I’ve had in years!’

  Kiara knows when she’s being dismissed, so she does as Viola asked of her. Her mind buzzes with the newfound information about J.—John—Maybank. 

  He’s a mystery, and stays in her mind longer than she’d like, again. 

  3: JOHN J.

‘Mrs Grubbs, I can’t give away our employee’s private information.’

  ‘It’s just a phone number,’ repeats Mrs Lana Grubbs in exasperation. ‘It’s not private.’

  ‘A personal phone number is private information. I don’t have the right—’

  ‘Fine, I’ll just do it myself.’

  The short woman with greying brown hair pulled into an elaborate bun walks past Kiara's desk with complete disregard of any manners whatsoever, and is already halfway through the main hallway when Kiara comes up in front of her. 

  The young Carrera puts her hands between her and the woman, lips pressed tight. ‘Mrs Grubbs, you can’t walk in here unannounced.’

  ‘Announce me, then.’

  ‘You need to have an appointment,’ elaborates Kiara. She feels herself close to seething; there are firm rules set in stone when it comes to culture, and the woman before her seems to have completely missed them. ‘I can arrange you an appointment.’

  Mrs Grubbs scoffs. Her perfectly defined eyebrows shoot up, and her lips purse as she raises her chin. ‘I need an appointment now, young lady.’

  ‘My mother is in the middle of a meeting, and is busy until the end of her shift.’

  ‘She is not that busy. Push me in after this meeting.’

  Kiara sighs. Even if she pushed her in, she knew her mother wouldn’t give her time of the day with that attitude. ‘With all due respect—’

  ‘Ms Lana!’

  The two women avert their attention to Kiara’s reception desk, where a fair-haired boy in a postman’s uniform is standing with a small box in his hands and a grin on his face. He waves at them, but he’s looking at Mrs Grubbs. 

  ‘Hey, Ms Lana. How you been?’

  Mrs Grubbs’ demeanour changes in an instant – Kiara watches her go from a ruthless witch to a friendly lady from the neighbourhood. She approaches John Maybank and squeezes his cheeks with, asking about school, his friends, and whatnot. 

  Kiara takes the opportunity to go back behind her desk, eyeing the exchange suspiciously. Before she knows it, John is hugging Mrs Grubbs and she turns to the girl with a disappointed smile on her face. 

  ‘I will arrange an appointment elsewhere,’ she states, as if Kiara is supposed to give a damn. ‘Your services are subpar.’

  at least we don’t need to deal with entitled, mannerless assholes like you, crosses Kiara’s mind, but the only thing noticeable is the smile on her face. ‘In that case, I hope you find services that match your demands.’

  What she gets in return is a distasteful eye roll paired with an over-dramatic huff. Mrs Grubbs turns on her heel and walks out of the door without so much as a goodbye. 

  At last, Kiara takes a deep breath and shifts her gaze to the postman in front of her desk. 

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he tells her with the smirk she’s gotten used to in the past two weeks. ‘Ms Lana is a bitch to everyone.’

  ‘Not you,’ sighs Kiara. 

  ‘No, that’s because everyone likes me.’

  She raises her eyebrows at him—she seems to be doing that a lot when he’s around—and just opens her hand. ‘What you got?’

  ‘Delivery for Mrs Viola Glisson.’ He hands her a paper slip and the device to sign, which she does. ‘So you don’t agree that everyone likes me?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Ouch.’ John places a hand over where his heart is supposed to be (a little too far to the left) and grimaces. ‘That hurts my feelings.’

  Kiara gives the device back to him, walking around the desk to pick up the box and put it on it. She knows he’s staring at her cleavage (not very exposed, but noticeable when she bends over) and wonders if he left it there on purpose. 

  When she sits back in her chair, he’s still there, fingers tapping against her desk.

  ‘Look, thanks for your help with Mrs Grubbs,’ she says, because a) she’s not a fool and she can tell what he did, and b) she can swallow her pride for one second. 

  ‘Does that make me your prince?’

  ‘You didn’t come on the white horse or in your shining armour.’

  ‘My uniform’s kinda shiny,’ he says, tugging at the short sleeves that have the reflective tape on it that is a must-have for Kildare. ‘And my bike is white.’

  Kiara laughs. ‘Your bicycle?’

  ‘My motorbike.’

  He says it slowly, with the “e” stretching into a knowing smile, and Kiara hates that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and hates even more that it’s working. 

  Thing is – by now, Kiara is half-certain that the majority of the reason why his presence irks her is because she’s attracted to it, and Kiara Carrera hates being attracted to people who are cocky and self-serving. He looks like he could be a good night’s fun, with his cheeky grin and eyes that remind her of waves she sometimes surfs on, and he reeks of trouble, still. This used to be her type – tall, blonde, with a streak for illegal activities, but Kiara said to herself that she isn’t fifteen anymore. She hasn’t been fifteen in two years, come two weeks. She’s past that childish behaviour. 

  ‘I don’t need a knight in shining armour, pal,’ she states, shutting down her thoughts before they progressed even further. I need a postman.’

  ‘We could be friends,’ he says. ‘Why not, huh?’

  ‘Do you always chat with receptionists for longer than it’s appropriate?’

  ‘Only cute ones.’

  Kiara can’t contain her laugh this time, and it echoes in the room full of marble. John is smiling at her, and she thinks that the wickedness in the crook of his smile is just playfulness, instead. Teasing, too, and maybe just the slight hint of a daredevil. 

  She leans her elbows on the desk, intertwines her fingers, and rests her chin on her hands. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

  He cocks his head to the side as if he knows she’s lying and, based on the way he seems (perceptive, in any case – he’s very good at finding out what makes her tick), he knows that she is. 

  The blond extends her a hand and she takes it. ‘John J. Maybank.’

  ‘Kiara Carrera.’ His grip is firm but so is hers, and they have a little staredown. ‘Adding in a “J.” to make yourself seem fancy?’

  (She pretends her hand isn’t cold once his is away; she pretends she doesn’t feel the blood coursing through her veins, or the knots in her stomach when his eyes fall to her lips.)

  John J. Maybank laughs with his whole chest, arms crossed on it. ‘Fancy is the last word anyone would use to describe me.’

  Her eyes travel up and down his body, and she tries not to linger on his biceps, accentuated by his pose, or the way his uniform sits just right on his body. 

  Instead, she grins. ‘I can tell.’

  He taps his fingers against her desk, and her eyes catch a pair of rings she didn’t notice before. ‘Anyway, we're friends now.'

  ‘Do I want to be friends with you?’

  John J. Maybank is already halfway out of the building when he turns to her, walking backwards, and shrugs with his arms outstretched. ‘I don’t think you have a choice.’

  He’s right – she doesn’t. 

  She thinks he’d be surprised if he knew just how little choice she has when it comes to him.

  4: JOHNNY JAY

John J. Maybank catches her as she’s walking out of the small—hers only—bathroom next to her desk. 

  ‘Hey, friend.’

  Kiara still rolls her eyes at the greeting. There’s something off about him, only she doesn’t notice what it is until she's sat down at her desk – he’s wearing a basketball top and short cargo pants, paired with the usual combat boots. 

  Kiara certainly didn’t expect to find out that the uniform actually hides quite a good bit of his body that is, objectively (and not in the way of Kiara objecting), quite pleasant to look at.

  He catches her looking. ‘I’m here for an appointment with Mrs Glisson.’

  ‘Now?’

  John J. Maybank glances at the clock to his right, above the bathroom door. ‘In ten minutes.’

  ‘Give me a second.’

  Her mind buzzes as fast as her fingers flip through the book of visitors. She recalls him asking for a consultation with Viola about two weeks ago, distinctly remembering Viola saying something about his father possibly being the reason. Her fingers land on the last time someone came for Viola. 

  ‘Sorry, she’s still in a meeting.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s okay, I’m not in a rush,’ he says, taking a seat in the waiting area, a few feet from Kiara’s desk. He throws one hand on the back of the seat next to him, ankle over a knee, and grins. ‘Besides, I don’t mind the company.’

  ‘I’m busy,’ retorts Kiara. 

  ‘When’s the last time you had fun?’

  ‘How long ago did you come here?’

  ‘Damn, dude. You still don’t like me?’

  ‘Nope.’

  They both know it's a lie. 

  In the past two weeks, he’s been here about five times, and every single one of those, he stayed behind to chat a little bit. Kiara didn’t mind – she liked having someone to talk to, especially someone who was her age. 

  (Well – not anymore, as of today.)

  ‘You should come to the Boneyard,’ he says. ‘And before you say you don’t want to—I see you—I’ll just let you know that I know you do, because I’ve seen you there, with Sarah Cameron and the kooks.’

  At this, Kiara leans back in her chair, crossing her ankles underneath her desk. ‘Don’t recall the Kooks playing at a Boneyard party. I think they tend to have proper concerts, instead.’

  ‘So what, you’re gonna say going to Boneyard parties isn’t your bad habit?’

  A smile spreads over her lips, heated underneath his gaze. She likes that he caught her reference – she likes that maybe they have the same taste in music. She likes the idea of them dancing to it, at a Boneyard party, red solo cups in hand. 

  ‘Relax, Johnny Jay.’ He raises an eyebrow at the name, but doesn’t interrupt her. ‘Boneyard parties aren’t really my scene anymore.’

  John J. Maybank stares at her with the same knowing look. She catches the glimmer in her eye that tells her she's not fooling him, and she sees the intent in the curve of his Cupid’s bow. 

  He flashes a set of white teeth and a pair of dimples. ‘Bring Sarah Cameron and the kooks. It might be a pogue party, but it’ll be a proper party.’

  Kiara’s smile is soft, and her cheeks are heating up again underneath the sharpness of his gaze. ‘What will they say when I find out I’m friends with a pogue?’

  ‘You care about that?’

  ‘No,’ she admits, ‘but I thought you might.’

  ‘Nah, dude. My friends already know about us.’

  ‘There’s no us.’

  ‘There could be.’

  He gives her an award winning smile, one that must’ve given him the aura of someone good for a night's worth of fun. (She hates that it’s drawing her in the way he is, making her want to say yes when she told herself she’d be more responsible her last year before leaving for college.)

  Kiara just sighs, going back to what she was doing before she took a bathroom break – doodling on a paper they used for testing the new printer (the one only Kiara seems to understand, which makes her useful, and the situation annoying). 

  John J. Maybank walks over to her, fingers on the desk. It irks her when he does it, so he does it as often as possible. 

  She looks up at him and for once, there is not a hint of anything wicked.

  ‘Come on, Kiara. Next summer, you’ll be getting ready for college, and you’ll be too busy to enjoy yourself. Then you’re gonna leave for college and you won’t look back, and that’ll be the best years of your life wasted. Besides,’—he taps against her hand and she slaps his—‘I won’t be there anymore.’

  He tries touching her hand again, and she slaps it all the same. ‘Why does that matter?’

  ‘‘Cause I’m the best thing Kildare has to offer.’

  as if.

  Kiara is about to snap back with something—he hasn’t figured out what—when Rafe Cameron walks past the two of them, giving her a court nod. She pushes John J. Maybank’s hand off the wood, pretending her hands don’t burn where skin touches skin. ‘That’s your cue.’

  He nods, and she notices the smile fell off his face while she watched her best friend’s brother walk out. His blue eyes are glazed, and his lips are trembling so Kiara pokes his hand with the top end of her pen. 

  ‘You’ll be fine, Johnny Jay.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nods to her, or himself, and taps once against the desk. ‘See you later, I guess.’

  Kiara gives him what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. 

  John J. Maybank leaves, and she listens to the familiar thuds of his boots until she hears Viola's door open, and he walks in. What they’re doing isn’t her business, regardless of how badly she wants to know. Rafe Cameron’s here because he’s dealing with some bullshit his dad’s putting him through, and the only reason she knows any of that is because Sarah told her. Kiara is practically family to the two, even if she isn’t the biggest fan of the boy. 

  Johnny Jay, on the other hand, is someone she struggles to even consider a friend, since they’ve never met outside the confines of these four walls. They read each other well, bounce off of one another like a pair of old friends, and they’ve got a lot more in common than she would’ve ever thought. 

  They’re not friends in the traditional way, but they’re friends enough. 

  The telephone on the desk buzzes with the word VIOLA in place of caller ID. Kiara answers. 

  ‘Kiara, sweetheart, can you please print for me the documents I sent you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’

  Printing is actually much simpler than any of them realise. Kiara doesn’t even open the documents before sending them to the printer, clicking a few buttons that are just settings for how the page will come out (and most of them she doesn’t even need to touch). The printer is in the building’s library on the first floor, and the room smells of old books and freshly printed papers. 

  There’s a difference between snooping into a note he left for Viola and looking over the documents that she is currently taking out of the printer – she can’t not see what is written on them when she has to check that the printer hasn’t gone out of ink. 

  It’s only a glance at each of the pages, but it’s enough for her to see EMANCIPATION FORM and RESTRAINING ORDER FORM written at the headers of each of the two sets to clock onto what’s happening.

  The only thought in her head is: shit.

  She wasn’t meant to see that. 

  Kiara’s hands produce a shaky knock against the wooden door, and it’s Viola’s raspy smoker-voice that invites her in. She’s still feeling a little bit sick in the stomach when she enters, papers in hand. 

  ‘Thank you, Kiara,’ says Viola, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  ‘No problem.’

  Her voice is feeble, filling out every inch of space not occupied by something, or someone. She’s halfway out the door before Viola even gets to dismiss her, and she glances at Maybank on the way – he’s pale, face sickened with something she doesn’t recognise, but his eyes are weary in a way no sixteen-year-old’s should be. 

  He doesn’t seem angry – it’s Kiara’s last thought before the door shuts, and she can’t see him anymore. 

  Time passes as she waits for the meeting to be over. The fair-haired boy is all she can think about; she shouldn’t ask questions but there are many in her head, and her doodles can’t distract her anymore. When customers call, she doesn’t chat to them, and no people walk in to divert her attention. 

  He walks out about quarter of an hour later, a bittersweet edge to the eyebrows looming over his eyes, a stack of paper in tow.

  ‘Hey, friend.’

  A finger taps against the desk, next to a doodle that looks an awful lot like him. She moves her arm and rests her elbow on it. 

  ‘Hey,’ she says back. ‘Did it go well?’

  ‘Well.’ A sour smile. ‘I’m not sure getting a restraining order against the same old man you’re trying to get emancipated from could ever go well.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ offers Kiara, and it's genuine. 

  To John J. Maybank’s credit, he gives her a court nod and a smile that seems a little less like it’s saying i am doing something that could go terribly right or terribly wrong.

  ‘Come to the Boneyard on Saturday. Bring Sarah and everybody. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  He must know her well enough to be able to tell this is as close to a yes as anyone will ever get from her, because the smile his cheeks stretch into is the one with dimples, and a fancy for trouble.

  She knows him well enough to be able to tell that what she found out stays between them. 

  (Kiara wonders when strangers turned into friends turned into people who understand each other without having to say anything.)

  ‘Oh and, uh,’ he calls back from the main door, ‘happy birthday!’

  He doesn’t stick around long enough to hear her thanks, but he sticks around many other times.

  + 1: JJ

Flowers. 

  ‘Those better not be for me,’ muses Kiara from her desk. ‘I don’t like orchids.’

  JJ walks in with a bouquet of flowers and his postman uniform, all accompanied by a wide, cheerful grin on his face. He’s got a spring to his step and he swings himself around the desk, planting a kiss to Kiara’s cheek. 

  Her hands loop around his waist. With the flowers now on her papers, Kiara feels as if she walked into the Camerons’ backyard. 

  ‘It’s not for you,’ says JJ, wrapping a curl around his finger. ‘For Mrs Glisson.’

  ‘What’s the occasion?’

  Kiara’s—well, whatever they are to one another—hesitates for a second, but she thinks it’s more for dramatic effect than actual hesitation. 

  His finger taps her cheek, warm and rough at the tip. ‘I’m moving into the Chateau today. Officially.’

  ‘Have the forms gone through?’

  He nods, and Kiara flings her around his neck, pulling him into a full kiss. It shifts into a hug, and she feels him relax into her. ‘I can breathe now.’

  ‘I can only imagine.’ She pulls back, smiling as wide as he is. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Shocked. Terrified. Excited. Ambi-feelous.’

  ‘That’s not a word.’

  ‘God, you’re starting to sound like Pope. I never should’ve introduced you.’

  ‘It was inevitable,’ Kiara says. 

  They both know it, so JJ just runs a finger alongside her jaw, and his lips briefly touch hers. He’s gone after that and so are the flowers (Kiara is genuinely glad they weren’t for her). Viola isn’t in a meeting right now so it’s fair game, and about two minutes in, she’s pretty sure she can hear the woman crying/yelling (when it comes to Viola, those sounds are way too similar). It’s a big deal for everybody – the whole firm took him under their wing once they found out about the horrors of living under the Maybank roof, enough that they decided to do the case pro bono. 

  (JJ doesn’t like pity, so he made sure to help out in any way they can, from running errands while doing her postman job or being their personal mechanic during his free time.)

  When he comes back, he’s all smiles, lips stretched out wider than Kiara thought it possible. 

  ‘I’m picking up post today,’ he says, walking over to the box with mail thrown into it. ‘Busy day.’

  ‘How busy?’ 

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Could you spare ten minutes?’ asks Kiara, stepping away from her desk. He can see her in her full glory now – she’s pretty sure he has a thing for secretaries and their lookalikes, and she’s been putting in extra effort the past few days. ‘I think a pipe went off in my bathroom, or something. Since you said you’d help out with maintenance…’

  JJ checks the clock above the bathroom, then shrugs, facing away from the camera to give her a coy grin. ‘I guess ten minutes won’t hurt.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She starts walking over to the bathroom, JJ at her heel. ‘I’ve been dying to get this fixed for days.’

  ‘Mhm. I can imagine. It must’ve been awful.’

  ‘Truly terrible.’

  The moment they’re behind the closed door of Kiara’s bathroom, she’s pressed against the cold wall, JJ’s body hot in front of her. His lips are all over her neck and her hands making a mess out of his hair, while his are busy tugging her shirt out of her trousers and sliding underneath the fabric, pulling lines on the bare skin. 

  Instinctively, Kiara’s hips buckle against his as she arches her back and tilts her neck, exposing more skin for him to brush his lips over. She feels the bugle, and lets out a hearty laugh. 

  JJ stops kissing her, just enough to give her a glare with a frown. ‘I can see how terrible it’s been if you have time to laugh at me.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Kiara says, tugging at his collar to pull him closer. ‘We’ve got to be quiet.’

  His hands travel downwards until they’re in her trousers, cupping her ass, and Kiara buckles against him again. She pulls him closer until they’re chest to chest, and she kisses the spot right below his ear, feeling him moan against her, his hands gripping her tighter. The thrill of being caught is making both their hearts race, and Kiara can think of very few things hotter than this moment.

  ‘Quiet is the last thing you’re going to be, Kie,’ he threatens.

  She’s up on the sink within a heartbeat, and he tugs her trousers down with more ease than she’d think possible. 

  There’s a mirror on both sides of the wall, in front of her and behind her; she sees the grin on her lips, with self-assurance and a hint of wickedness to it, watching JJ press kisses up her tight that leave marks no one but her will be able to see. 

  Her hands are tugging on his hair, pulling him closer to her. ‘Ten minutes,’ she reminds him. ‘Make ‘em count.’

  All JJ does is bury his head between her legs, and she starts to think that this bathroom had never been meant for anything other than this.

  ★

tagging. @jjmaybanky​​ @chasefreakinstokes​​ @drewstarkey​​ @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge​​ @outrbank​​ @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx​​ @ilovejjmaybank​​​ @teamnick​​​ @jjmaybanksbaby​​​ @mahleeyuh​​​ @nicolewithasoul​​ @kiarawilliams127​​ @starlightstarkey​​ @anonymous0writer​​ @outerbongs​​ @warnettc​​ @jjandreidsgirl @jjmaybanqs @sofiesshitshow @kaitieskidmore1 @maybanksbaby @abbiesthings @tempestuousjj @coconutroseowl @queenofthepouges

[colde0channel]

[ENG] 180530 COLDE - DAZED INTERVIEW

Q. I was hesitant right before I came to see you. I wasn’t sure what questions to ask. I assumed ‘music’ was the only clue that explained your name ‘Colde’. 

Colde: That’s absolutely right. I never had the intention of creating a visual stereotype of the work I’ve been doing so far. I’ve rejected using other elements besides music.  It’s the same reason why I wear a hat/cap when I sing. That’s why I’m reluctant to be exposed in the media and I hardly do interviews very often. I’ve been doing that for the past two years, I’m now working as a solo artist as of this year. I thought this time, I’d have to brand myself differently. This is my first magazine interview with Dazed.  (t/n: He feels more confident performing on stage. He explained in previous interviews that he’s in fact a ‘timid’ person. This interview took place in 2018. Colde officially debuted with 0channel as ‘offonoff’ in 2016.)

Q. That sounds great. So let’s start this with, what’s the meaning behind the name ‘Colde’ ?

Colde: There are certain words that I love, and one of them is ‘Cold’ . When I visualised it as an image, I thought it fit well with my voice and appearance. I’m naturally not a bright person but the name ‘Cold’ goes well with a calm feeling. There are lots of meaningless typography (names) so that’s why I put an ‘e’ at the end of ‘Cold’. (Cold + e= Colde) (t/n: He mentioned on Red & Yella, that he got the name using a word generator. Although his name is Colde and with a voice that sounds ‘cold’ too, he wishes to bring warmth with his music.)

Q. What type of person is ‘Colde’ aka ‘Kim Heesoo’ like in real life? Are you as quiet and calm as when you sing?

Colde: I like to think positively, and I’m usually quiet. However once you get to know me, I like to joke around. I tend to discuss deeply about what I love;  like collecting vintage items, old books and I love taking film photos that I can directly connect to music. Which I then keep in a stack of archives. Also riding an old car. I write songs with that kind of inspiration. I know a lot of people have been curious. (t/n: In fact he has a tattoo of an ‘old car’ on his right arm. Also the film photos he took in Texas (2019) were used for his LOVE PART 01 EP cover)

Q. What other things do you do, when you’re not doing music?

Colde: Talking (to friends)? Or watching a movie. I enjoy drinking tea peacefully while reading books. I like going to clubs but only when it’s for work, like planning a performance or parties. (laughs)

Q. Don’t you sometimes dream of escaping in a fit of anger?

Colde: Hmmmm, well I would take a walk on the Han River Bridge and just sing. Then sing loudly until I can’t hear my voice and the sound of cars.

Q. When you know you have enough control of yourself, it’s not as easy as it looks. So far, do you think you’ve been able to compete only with music rather than revealing yourself (into the public). 

Colde: When me and 0channel moved together as a team, we solely focused on ‘offonoff’ as opposed to individuality. Our concept was not to let anyone know about us, like Margiela (brand). It was difficult to continue with that kind of concept as a crew (team). But with that, it’s constructed well in its own way. I would express it as ‘branding’.

(t/n: It’s almost saying as if ‘offonoff’ is a brand of its own. Martin Margiela who owns the brand, remains to be a private person.  “Constantly challenging people’s expectations, the label persistently presents the idea of anonymity within their collections, and often sends models down the catwalk with their faces concealed so the concentration is on the clothes.” source: vogue  )

Q. I agree. Nowadays, we do the branding ourselves. Offonoff and Colde’s music reminds me of the phrase you either ‘like it’ or you ‘crave for more’ . Without a doubt, both of you have different opinions. When you work on an album, how much do you or both express your own preference(s)?

Colde: For my solo music, they’re all centered around me so everything is decided by my opinion.  Whereas in comparison to teamwork (offonoff), our opinions are half and half. We combine both of our ideas, well enough to make it work. That’s why it takes longer to work on the album. Which is the same for other things besides music. From a month before the album was released, we gathered every week to have visual meetings. Discussing ideas on how we would like the music video(s) to turn out. So I think we have good teamwork and synergy based on that.  

Q. I heard that your first solo single ‘Your Dog Loves You’, from song writing to music video and album promotion was done without any label.

Colde: When we were still promoting as ‘offonoff’, our previous label (HIGHGRND) positively reflected the opinions of artists. So there weren't any conflicting issues. When I wrote this song (YDLY), I told myself “I’ll pursue this, there’s no one stopping me.”  I started working on the album (YDLY) thinking about my dog; Samna. Even though we’ve been apart for a while, I still feel a sense of happiness. I realised that love is truly incredible. I wanted to express the meaning of my love and gratitude (for her), so that’s why I wrote about Samna as my first single. ‘Your Dog Loves You’ is a song that conveys my honest self and emotions with sincerity. Thus recording (the song) is important when doing music.

Q. What type of branding will be added to this song? 

Colde: For this song, I think my real name ‘Kim Heesoo’ best represents me than Colde. To Samna, I live as ‘Kim Heesoo’ (laughs). We will be selling T-shirts with the release of this album. Some of the proceeds (from selling the shirts) will be donated to ‘CARE’, an animal shelter organisation. They also helped with the music video shoot. 

Q. Is Wavy a type of movement?

Colde: That is correct. It's not just a concept or a crew but it's going to turn into a ‘brand’. Essentially it will then form as an ‘official label’. I'm still thinking about how I'm going to make it interesting, once it's unveiled. I can't tell you any more details, please keep an eye out . (laughs)

Q. It seems that promoting the song strategically is as important as good music.

Colde: I guess you could say that. When me and 0channel made our first song (Mood. mixtape [2015]) as ‘offonoff’, we tried to complete it with a high quality visual. With that, we started a website for it. The goal was to make the site accessible for everyone to access, and I paid attention to the small details. (offonoffart.tumblr.com) Which I think played a part of the promotion. It’s the same process for my solo music. I’m not only good at making music, but I should get the most out of using webzine, youtube channel and SNS websites (instagram etc). I also like to observe and explore how people use these websites.

Q. Are there any public figures (eg. actors, writers, artists) or anything that you are interested in nowadays?

Colde: Vintage shopping. In my spare time, I would make a trip looking for only vintage items.

Q. In your opinion, is nostalgia for old (things) any special?

Colde: Without them (old things) what would be left after the person passes away? Money? I don’t think so. If I leave something that is special (to me) I’d regard it as if it’s my child. I believe that whoever is influenced by me, will be greatly inspired. If you have a distinctive preference, the meaning of life will look even more different. Then I’ll be able to explain that clearly to someone, before I die. 

Q. What’s the latest thing you’ve purchased?

Colde: Yesterday I bought a candlestick decorated with crystals on it. There’s a favourite shop that I like, whenever a new item comes in the owner would always contact me first. I also bought postcards and old magazines.

Q. Does that kind of preference also similar with fashion?

Colde: I love anything vintage in Japan and the UK. When I talk to my friends, ‘vintage’ is always the subject of the conversation. (t/n: He visited both countries before.)

Q. It is evident that cool musicians like you dress well. I think that’s why we’re able to film Eli’den Men with you today. 

Colde: I’ve been offered a lot of fashion photoshoots and I’ve disappointed many, even though it’s a great opportunity. I had to decline them. I’d rather make a proposal for myself first, planning to do projects which connect music and fashion. Having the chance to work on Eli’den Men, I was so excited that I knew it would be fun. Even wearing eleven outfits was a challenge for me. 

Q. How do you feel after filming it?

Colde: I feel great because I got to wear many pretty clothes. (laughs)

Q. What is the relationship between fashion and music for you? 

Colde: I think my own criteria of fashion determines whether I'm an artist or not. Anyone can identify if an artist’s identity is connected to fashion. It doesn’t necessarily mean an artist has to dress well. I don’t think I can look my best, without that connection between work and clothing. It’s very important to show your personality through fashion. For example, when performing as offonoff’s Colde, I would wear my cap pretty low. Because that’s the character I set up for myself. I’m the type of person who doesn’t want to make eye contact with people, who’s also timid, passive and a reserved person. But in reality I’m gloomy and an introvert.  After becoming a solo artist it’s getting better, now that I’ve started to open myself up to the world.  Hence why I decided to appear on the show ‘BREAKERS’. The process of opening myself is revealed through fashion.

Q. I can feel the sincerity from your honesty. From now onwards I have high hopes of what’s going to happen next (for his next music release). 

Colde: For my next second single; the keyword is  ‘Fashion’. (Colde - WAVE [EP]) These days, I’ve been so immersed in my work. I’ve been planning this (album) since last year. It’s going to be a lot of fun. I’m planning to get a head start on this around June to July.

Q. So will we meet again next month?

Colde: I’d love that (smiles). I think it’s more meaningful if it’s with DAZED. Please look forward to my new music and upcoming projects.

✧ original source here

Translated by @colde0channel.                                                                          Please credit when reposting. Thank you!

[ameliaagain]

Two weeks ago, I went to my phd advisor’s zoom memorial. It was moving, I was glad I went. It was good to see faces that I hadn’t seen in a decade (outside of social media), and to remember the good things about those years. I wish I could have said I was on good terms with her when she died in April. 

As members of her buddhist prayer group lead us in a soul-releasing meditation, I turned off my camera and let out a sob. I remembered the smiley faces on her signatures, how great it felt to have her, at one time, believe in me. 

Earlier today I heard about an archives elder who passed, and I’m feeling all kinds of feelings. I fundamentally disagreed with the dude on many points, but he was always jolly and decent to be around. He had taught and inspired and engaged with generations of library and archives professionals, myself included.

When I learned my advisor went emeritus and then retired, I was mostly shocked to learn that she would not be teaching cataloging for another decade or two. Teaching cataloging was her art and her craft, and she elevated the practice of cataloging for so many. 

Somehow I took having LIS elders for granted. Even though I walked away, I think I always assumed that it would still all be there - it all did feel so stagnant. I didn’t anticipate how losing them would mean the end of an era, and a realization of that slow burn of teaching and learning and careers.

The universities that our elders came up in no longer exist, and that in part feels like a relief. Several of the junior faculty members I know speak openly about their six-figure student debt. Those are the tough ones who have stayed in the game and made significant victories. 

As an older millennial, I often think about how everyone my age and younger has never known a world without austerity politics and its casual cruelty. But I think this has a huge impact on cultural institutions as a whole - that this is several generations of librarians and archivists and curators who have never known the sites of their research and practice not under attack or threat in some way.  In some ways losing their presence in the world means being forced to grieve all the things we’ve lost and all the things we’ve never had.

[beedaleebjd]

Psssst do you happen to have any tips or beginners links for newbies who are interested in getting in to the BJD hobby? 👀

*SOFT SCREECH* ALICE COME DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE WITH ME... /CLAMBERS FOR

This is a very slap-dash tips post, because a full fledged crash-course would take me much longer than a day to assemble. I think this could get someone started, but I can always answer specific questions if you have them in the future. ❤️

BJD 101: For a rundown of definitions, terminology, and origins of the hobby, I highly recommend checking out the Wikipedia article. (Warning for old vaguely spooky doll photos) I honestly wish I just read this when I got started, haha. It’s not everything, but it’s definitely a start.

Study! Read as much as you possibly can!! Especially terminology and maintenance. I highly recommend watching a bunch of unboxing and review videos- it might seem silly, but they're really helpful to get an idea of scale, how they function/pose, and how they look and feel when handled by a human. I also recommend trying to find owner photos of dolls you’re interested in, because sometimes the store photos are limited!

Join a community! Consider joining a forum like den of angels or a facebook bjd group like BJD Addicts! Exposure to the hobby is really helpful and you learn way faster. It’s fine if you’re shy, you don’t have to interact if you don’t want to- I like lurking DoA for the valuable tutorials and threads on doll brands I'm interested in. Tip: You can view some of DoA’s threads without an account by searching "[subject/doll of choice] den of angels" in google, but i got tired of that pretty fast. Signing up takes a few weeks to get approved but it's worth it for all the knowledge, even old archived stuff.

Window-shop until you drop!! I think the number one regret in the hobby is 'too many dolls, not enough time to love any of them'. So I HIGHLY recommend making wish-lists. These help a lot with avoiding impulse purchases and buyer’s remorse. There are a loooot of dolls out there, so if you've seen a huge majority of them, you'll be more picky.

For me, wishlists include both dream/grail dolls, tentative desires i’m not sure about but want to remember the name of, dolls I could never afford but feel validated writing down somewhere, and also cataloging info- measurements, wig/eye/shoe sizes, resin colors, price, current availability, dealer websites, etc. it becomes such a godsend when you shop for them. you’ll thank me later!!

I spent a lot of time browsing dealer websites like Alice's Collections, Legenddoll, Denver Doll, DOLK Station, etc- I linked some of those here. This is to see what my tastes are. Not EVERY doll company will go through all or any dealers, but it’s a good start!

If you’re the social type, going to conventions or local bjd meetups can help with getting an idea of your preferences! I accidentally walked by one at sakuracon last year and got to hold an MSD and an 11cm tiny, and that was REALLY helpful for me to realize I DID like those sizes. If other doll owners will let you hold theirs, I totally recommend it! (Always ask first, of course! Not everyone is comfortable with it!)

Go!! Slow!!! if you think you're taking it easy, go even slower. i'm so serious. it's so easy to get dazzled, over-eager, or totally overwhelmed by this hobby. especially if you have a habit of hyper focus/special interest tenancies like i do. 

Patience is a virtue anyway: If you’re not buying second-hand or in-stock dolls, you will be waiting a while for your doll. Anywhere from a few months to a year, depending on the company and how backlogged they may be at any given point. Dolls are usually pre-order and take time to be made.

Some people like to just buy sculpts and let a character ‘come to them’, which is absolutely valid so if you wanna just go on a feeling that’s great!! i totally can’t afford that route most of the time, so I spend a lot of time mood-boarding for my potential dolls using pinterest and my own art to see just how in love with an idea i am and highly recommend it. I’ll ramble about this in another post soon.

Budget! They are not very cheap like 10-20$ fashion dolls at wal-mart, so those new to the hobby may be shocked.This hobby is an investment and an indulgence/luxury, as with most Nice Things. But don’t be discouraged! There are affordable dolls out there, a lot of Dealer websites offer layaway plans, and the second-hand market is always circulating things!

Here is a DoA list of dolls that are under 300$. 

Note: Size of dolls often scale with price, so the bigger it is, the more expensive (and HEAVY) it will be. Some videos on BJD sizing here and here, but Flickr is crawling with height comparisons as well.

Craft or Not To Craft: Are you team 'i'm gonna sew/craft stuff/do wigs/eyes/faceups for my doll' or team 'i'm gonna buy clothes/props/faceups/wigs/etc from other artists!'? I know most people end up being a little bit of both, but these things both cost time or money (or both) so you wanna think about that in the overall price when you're considering a doll. It seems intimidating, but really, it’s the responsible thing to do. I’d rather plan for it than have a naked sad doll to feel bad about. Some personal recommendations below helped me get started:

Wigs: Monique Gold Collection wigs are affordable in the 20 dollar range, and have incredibly soft fiber! (You can find a lot of these available through ebay sellers as well)

Eyes: Lemonjellyshoppe and CandyKittenEmporium have some incredible eyes and also do custom orders!

Sewing Patterns: DGRequim on etsy and SproutyDoll have both been very nice to use and easy understand and modify to fit your doll!

When you’re savvy on the sizing of your dolls and if you’re comfy with secondhand sales, Facebook groups like BJD Addicts Sales & Commissions, BJD Lovers Sales, and BJD Adoption has a lot of people selling BJDs and accessories, oftentimes discounted for de-stashing or collection overhauls!

In addition to the other dealer sites I linked before, Dollmore (which also has an ebay shop) has a lot of options on everything! 

Rec@sts and the community- This is a veeery hot button topic, but you’ll probably see a lot of it the more you get into the hobby. I don’t want to talk about it a lot because of the negativity it attracts, but to sum it up: BJDs are essentially commissioned art pieces. They are hand sculpted by an artist or small group of artists, and then cast in resin and refined and strung by hand. There are people that will cast copies of them and sell them for a very cheap profit. To put it simply, it’s theft, and it effects the livelihood of people that make a living of their art. A lot of companies stop making dolls because they can’t compete anymore. Most official doll/art related conventions (LDoll, Resin Rose, etc) ban rec@sted dolls, as well as DoA and several of the facebook groups. Be sure to read all the rules of groups/forums you join them.

A lot of people come into this hobby unaware of this and buy a bootleg doll on sites like Ebay or Aliexpress, and then get turned away from the community without understanding why. There are understandable circumstances that cause someone to end up with a bootleg doll, but it’s also important to respect the artists and creators that share their art with the public.

On that note: Sometimes people will resell 2nd hand dolls as legit when they are not. Be careful about who you buy second-hand dolls from. Also, keeping certificates of authenticity (CoAs), receipts, and original packaging is must if you ever plan to resell your doll!

I... think that’s everything major I can think of... at least enough to get someone started? I know a lot of it is a bit vague, but if you wanted my opinion on a certain brand or size of doll or budgeting tips if money is tight, I’d be happy to give my personal preferences on that separately!! But otherwise, good luck and happy treasure hunting! ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Erin Brockovich AU

To send this ahead... I know that Brienne’s character is much different from that of Erin in the movie, but by giving some over to Jaime and twisting and shredding things, I found it a very intriguing plot bunny! :D

Brienne doesn’t have it easy lately. Just recently she had to move into a new, shabby house on the outer outskirt of King’s Landing. She can no longer afford her old apartment in King’s Landing after she was fired from her secretary job because she had to take off to take care for her foster children Arya and Sansa and the boss showed little understanding for a single parent taking care of two traumatized girls. And now she stands there with bills to pay and no one willing to hire her.

Sometimes she really wished Catelyn had chosen any other person to take care of her girls in case of her demise, but as things stand, there was no other way. Bran and Rickon are with Osha and Luwin whereas Jon could not possibly take care of his siblings as he was drafted for service at the Wall. Brienne wants to honor that vow since Cat helped her a great deal in the past, but she feels all the more like failing as she cannot provide for the girls what they would deserve after the losses they had to suffer: their parents, oldest brother, his wife, and their home in Winterfell.

However, Brienne won’t let this stop her, so she goes through advertisements and calls any office offering jobs in the hope to find something new. She applies for a job as a secretary in Tyrion Lannister’s law firm, a small thing that mostly runs itself as far as she can judge. Brienne is little impressed when she meets the boss, because Tyrion Lannister does not strike her as a passionate lawyer. Instead, he spends his time looking after women to check them out and drink from his flask hidden under the table.

Brienne applies not as “Brienne of Tarth” but “Brienne of Morne,” her mother’s maiden name. She would rather not, but whenever she applied for jobs she was linked to her father’s ruined company and her failure to ever become a top lawyer due to personal choices she made in the past. She applied for jobs in law firms as a lawyer again and again because she went to the best schools, had excellent grades, but her past continues to haunt her. She is either overqualified, they tell her, or she doesn't have enough courtroom experience, or they think she is a failure because her father's firm went downhill without her being able to stop it. Thus, she writes applications below her profile, leaves out most of her personal past and just hopes to finally get a steady job to provide for Sansa and Arya. She is desperate.

Tyrion is hesitant at first, arguing that he normally looks for "prettier" secretaries, but he has to give in eventually because Brienne won't budge and proves that she can do the job better than any of the other applicants.   Sansa and Arya give her trouble too, Arya gets into fights at school whereas Sansa won’t stick to Brienne’s rules, stay out late and leave her guessing to where the girl is headed.

So no, things are not easy on Brienne, but she won’t let that wear her down as she, at the very least, finally got a job at the law firm to cover the costs. She works her ass off at the office until she stumbles over what seems to be a small case involving selling property to a big chemical industry called The Alchemists' Guild, a business that focused on wildfire and its derivatives. They want to buy properties close to their plant on the outskirt of King's Landing, in a very poor area not that different from the one where Brienne now lives with her girls.

Brienne asks Tyrion if she can look into the case, after all, she can tell something is odd with the numbers due to her experiences she did not list for her application. He handwaves her proposal, much more concerned with his pretty new “intern” Shae.

Fueled by her wish to finally do something close to her past in the law, Brienne heads down the dusty roads to meet the people The Alchemists' Guild wants to purchase the properties from. While most won’t speak to her at first as Brienne doesn't think she has it in her to make people listen to her, the young woman is surprised when people start to tell their stories. Sooner rather than later, they trust her because she listens to them and gives them the facts rather than what they call “lawyer talk”. Brienne continues to gather information, doing what she is accustomed to as a former lawyer: she talks to experts, puts together evidence, and essentially starts to build a case she has any intention to present to Tyrion once she made certain that she is onto something.  

Back home, things don't look as bright, however. Her nanny quits on a whim, leaving Brienne with no one to pick up the girls, make them dinner and the like until she gets home. It gets so bad that one day, the woman she hired to look after Sansa and Arya just doesn't show up and leaves the girls to walk home all by themselves. She is in a panic until she finds them with the recently moved-in and to her mind totally annoying one-handed biker-wannabe Jaime. He has barbecue with them and particularly Arya seems to like the guy who insists on only being referred to by his first name. Ever since he said he took fencing lessons in his youth and would have no trouble teaching her the basics, the girl is sold on the wannabe-biker. Jaime and she thus suggest to Brienne that she should hire him as the new nanny.

Brienne doesn’t know what to do with all this because a man looking like this, acting like this, making lewd comments all the while supposedly being good with teenage girls? How does that fit? The two eventually agree that he gets a shot at taking care of the girls in exchange for a bit of extra money. Jaime says he can use it because with just one hand, working on the construction sites became difficult and the gigs are scarcer around this season.

And so, a truce is born.

Brienne continues her investigation and puts in all of her efforts as she grows increasingly aware of the sheer importance this case has to the people involved. She starts to piece together that the The Alchemists' Guild tries to cover up literal dirty business, relating to people around the area getting sick in large numbers and their usage of wildfire. Brienne suspects a pattern behind this and figures that there must be a connection between the water supply for the town and the plant.

Thus, Brienne wants to request the records to obtain copies. However, the lady sitting at the front desk of the archive won’t let her in. Brienne suspects that she is in cahoots together with The Alchemists' Guild. Brienne fails to charm her way into the archives, that’s never been her strong suit, which is why she heads back to the house feeling like an utter failure.

Back home, she sees that Sansa and Arya really take a liking to Jaime, who runs the house just fine, if a bit unconventionally. When Jaime sees Brienne drag herself into the house, looking like someone just took her favorite medieval sword fighting film away, he wants to know what's wrong with her. She won’t admit at first, after all, Brienne hates to show weakness, but Jaime won’t budge and continues to poke her for information until she gives in and admits that she failed today.

“The downsides of being as ugly as a mare: I can't charm my way into the archive,” Brienne sighs.

“You can be charming in your own way if you try.”

“Shut up. And anyway, it's a lady.”

“Doesn't mean you could not put on a flirty face. Maybe she's looking for a bit of an adventure after all. I don’t judge.”

She rolls her eyes. “I never should have told you.”

“Fine, fine, I stop. I stop,” he laughs. “But I may have a solution.”

“Which is?”

Jaime points at himself with a smug grin. “Me.”

“You are the solution how? No offense, but you don't inspire... confidence in your legal status, shall I say?” Brienne scoffs.

“You said it. It's about flirting. And I am really good at that.”

“Are you? I did not notice.”

“Because I have no intention of flirting with you. I am your employee after all. If you properly compensate me, though, I can do expand my services, only just for you, wench.”

“Compensate you.”

“Well, you will have to give me a bit of a starter to set things up. For that, you get all the copies you want so desperately.”

“You are supposed to take care of Sansa and Arya. That’s what the truce is about, remember?”

“And they will be gone for a whole week for that school trip, remember?”

“... I forgot.” Brienne grimaces. It rubs her in the wrong way that Jaime already handles things so well that she finds herself forgetting things she wouldn’t have, but the job consumes so much of her time that she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

“Thought so,” Jaime chuckles. “So I got nothing to do anyway. Give me fifty stags and I will get you those copies tomorrow after we dropped the girls off. Deal?”

“... What's the worst that can happen, huh?”

Brienne is to find out the next day, remaining rather irritated by Jaime’s cryptic messages who says he will meet her outside the archive and that she is supposed to wait for the “big show.” She doesn't know what to expect until a very suave looking Jaime walks up to her, dressed in nice clothes, his hair in a neat bun, beard trimmed, stump securely hidden away in his fancy jacket, looking nothing like the biker she got to know and yelled at the first time she met him.

Jaime is having his dear fun at Brienne’s ogling at him before proceeding inside and charming the lady into giving him access to the archives. Jaime pretends to be an “intern” working for some “nasty lady” who only ever treats him badly.

“She yells at me and only ever bosses me around. Can you imagine?”

“Oh, trust me, I can.”

Brienne is bound to wait until Jaime re-emerges with the promised copies, looking like he just won the lottery. Brienne almost feels tempted to hug him, but just almost. Jaime is feeling pretty ecstatic at her blushing and evidently checking him out. He tells Brienne she can request his services again any time she needs it.

“Though next time, you may have to take me out for dinner afterwards.”

“… We’ll have to see about that.”

Brienne finally feels a bit vindication when she comes to the office, ready to present her findings to Tyrion, but that hope is instantly crushed when she finds her desk cleaned, stuffed into a box, and the other employees looking at her with nothing but misgiving. When she demands to know what is going on, Tyrion calls her to his office to inform her that he can’t keep a secretary who doesn’t come to work, seemingly having forgotten that she told him she wanted to investigate this case, and to top it all, he does not appreciate that she lied about her identity. He reveals to her that he did some research on his own and figured out that she is actually the “infamous” Brienne of Tarth.

Brienne is enraged because he dug through her past without her consent, looking at what she tried to bury, all of that pain that cost her so very much, not just the family company, not just her reputation as a lawyer, but also her father who died shortly after he had to file for bankruptcy due to business partners making bad investments on his behalf. She storms out of the building, furious but also desperate because she just lost her source of income.

Back home, Jaime is fixing things around the house to the best of his abilities. Brienne loses her cool a last because she can't afford to pay him anymore, she can't do anything right.

“Everything I touch, it just breaks apart.”

She confesses to Jaime at last what went on in her past, tells him all about her father’s failing business, how her father didn’t involve her in the business until it was too late because he wanted to give her the freedom to follow her personal mission of defending those people in court who couldn’t defend themselves. She tells Jaime all about her father’s death, and how that left her with massive debts to pay, but despite her experience and education, she was forced into taking small jobs, hide herself, because she never made more out of herself when she still could.

“And now I am not just failing myself, I am failing Sansa and Arya. Seven Hells, I am even failing you. I am failing everyone!”

To her great shock, she finds herself in the arms of the man she has a truce with. Jaime comforts her and holds her close when her world is on the verge of falling apart. And for the first time in a long time, she simply lets go, allows herself to accept that comfort, to let someone else hold her when she is so used to keeping it together for others.

Jaime trusts her with some of his past at last, something she never demanded of him to know, how he lost his hand during his time in the military and returned a war veteran with trauma but no family to support him when it mattered. His father just wanted him to join the family company and his sister could not care less about him as she was too absorbed into her own affairs. Even his little brother, who used to look up to him, wasn’t there for him when it mattered. Jaime only ever found joy in riding his motorbike and eventually he was so fed up with the family that he could not take it anymore and simply started to drive, never looking back.

One thing leads to another and the two fall into each other’s arms and into the bed. And for a time, things seem fine again, however broken, because Jaime is all the things Brienne wouldn’t have thought him to be when they first met. He is soft and caring as well as witty and snarky. And Jaime finds that with Brienne, he can finally talk to someone who understands, who bothers to listen, who doesn’t look at him as a lesser man for the choices he made, for the hand he lost and the lifestyle he chose for himself. For the first time in a long time, neither one feels alone in this world.

Sometime later, Jaime takes the girls out for something fun to do so that Brienne has the house to herself and can make some phone calls to find a new job. Brienne is surprised when shortly thereafter, Tyrion winds up on her doorsteps. He says he read her report and finally understood that he was being “kind of a cock” for thinking she was taking time off without telling him and was indeed working this whole time as she had insisted.

“I just thought you were lying,” he admits.

“I don't, not when it comes to those things.”

“You lied about your name.”

“I put in my mother's name because whenever I applied with my own, no one would give me a chance. And I find that kind of unfair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It is... So, can I come inside?”

“Under the condition that I will throw you out the moment on I am fed up.”

“I suppose I will have to agree to those terms, Miss Tarth.”

Tyrion and she sit down for a long overdue conversation about the case. Tyrion lets her know that he is now convinced that she is onto something big. He wants to work the case, with her, and have a look at the research she gathered but did not include in the report she left at the office before storming out.

Brienne, remembering Jaime's words about how she has to see more worth in herself, demands not just her job back, but to be accepted as who she is and what she is, lawyer Brienne of Tarth. And a raise. Tyrion likes the change of tone and agrees, telling her that he found a replacement anyway, in Shae.

“She does not know how to file reports, but she is good at making coffee.”

“I suppose that's not the only thing you see as being of merit.”

“Far from it.”

“Be it as it may... I have one more condition.”

“Which is?” he wants to know.

“If we go to court with this, if we really work this case, you will cut down on your alcohol consumption. I won't have a partner in on this case who sleeps under the office desk. The people I talked to, they matter to me, their lives depend on our success, and I won’t let someone in on the case who isn’t a hundred percent committed to the cause.”

“I am a very highly functioning alcoholic.”

“Cut it down or cut me out. Your choice.”

“You learn fast.”

“I may have a good teacher, though he still has to prove himself.”

Tyrion asks her to have another look at the archives because there must be more to what she currently has. Brienne says that she will have to ask her “friend” to do that, letting him know that she had no luck whereas her friend did. Tyrion is amused by the arrangement and jokes about how that sounds more like this “friend” is to her what Shae is to him. Tyrion suggests to her that he should meet that guy as well, to instruct him on what to look for. He has a greater knowledge regarding those matters than Brienne happens to have because he worked similar cases before. Brienne agrees to the arrangement.

That is the moment Jaime returns with the girls. Brienne tells him about the good news, only for him to go completely blank when he sees Tyrion and Tyrion sees him. Brienne doesn't know what's happening until both drop the bombshell that Jaime is Jaime Lannister and that this is his brother. Brienne never mentioned the name of the law firm to Jaime because he said he did not care.

As it turns out that the brothers were estranged after Tyrion took off to Essos to work for Daenerys Targaryen as a legal advisor when Jaime would have needed him most after the loss of his hand. When he made the cut away from Cersei and Tywin, Jaime thought Tyrion would stand by his side, but he did not. Instead, Tyrion rather kept out of the affairs and hid away in Essos. Jaime never forgave him that and broke with him the same way he did with the rest of the Lannister clan.

Jaime leaves the house in a hurry, unable to deal with his brother and his past catching up to him. Brienne goes after him and comforts him, to “return the favor.” While she won't ask him to go back to the archive and thus help his brother, Jaime says he will do it because he's seen what wildfire can do in the warzone under Aerys in particular, and he could not live with himself if he let people get away with using it.

“Just don't expect me to make peace with my brother.”

“I don't.”

“Then the truce remains intact.”

The work continues and the three work on their parts of the case. Brienne keeps gathering evidence and interviews to connect the dots, Tyrion preps up the battle tactic alongside her and gets back into his old game as the stellar figure he used to be in court despite his height, and Jaime ventures through the archives and on occasion charms his way into the hearts of the locals they have to interview when Brienne can't seem to get through to them.

However, big trouble is on the way and one set-back hunts the next. Running out of money, subtleties from the team of lawyers they are up against, files disappearing, threats, and unknown phone calls are only some of the problems they are facing.

The investigation starts to take its toll on Jaime’s and Brienne’s burgeoning relationship. Jaime doesn’t know whether he can commit to this kind of life he slipped into, after he embraced a life without strings attached for so very long. Brienne, for her part, can’t slow down and dedicates almost all of her time to he work. She would love to spend more time with Arya and Sansa, but she has a responsibility towards those people, she made a promise and has to keep it, has to, has to, has to. However, she also struggles with her feelings for Jaime because she doesn’t want to hold him back, well aware that he is still coming to terms with his PTSD he suffered in the war. She doesn’t want to burden him and doesn’t feel like she can make him stay. After all, she is not flirty, is not charming, and bad luck just keeps sticking to her flat heels.

And all of that happens in the midst of a legal war about to begin between The Alchemists' Guild and Brienne and her team.

But will they win?

Will justice win?

And what may be the costs of that battle?

Only time will show.

Additional Image Source: Erin Brockovich (2000).

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Mature Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 2567 Warnings: Swearing, blood, betrayal, character death, forced to take part in a ritual Summary: It's been over 1000 years since Tobirama and Madara spent the Winter Solstice together and Tobirama swears it won't end like last time. But can Tobirama keep such a promise?

Ko-Fi // Commission Info

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

As happy as Tobirama was that his summer was back, he realized he might have forced the awakening too soon. Madara was neither the god he'd loved for innumerable ages nor the human reincarnation, but something in between the two. The winter god knew it was painful for the summer god, all too aware of his missing power but unable to reclaim it. That being said, Madara's idea was stupid and he wasn't going to let it happen.

"No."

"You can't tell me no," Madara huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares his eternal partner, "I'm still the master in this relationship, you are my summon."

"You were never my master," Tobirama points out, getting right in Madara's personal space, "you are mine and I will not lose you to those monsters again."

"Tobirama," Madara sighs, "I can't not go, I've gone every year."

"That was before you reawakened the powers they originally stole from you." Tobirama states, seeing the flame in Madara's eyes waver just enough that he knows he's getting through to him. "Please my summer," he pleads, pressing their foreheads together and staring deep into the other's eyes, "I've already lost you once, I won't survive losing you a second time."

Madara closes his eyes for a long moment before reopens them, his sad gaze finding Tobirama's easily. "I am so sorry I put you through that my winter, but I have to go," the summer god mutters, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss, "not only would it be odd for my human half to miss it, but I need to get my power back, this half revival is killing me."

"There must be another way."

"There isn't and you know it."

"If you go I won't talk to you for the next millennia," Tobirama states with a huff, turning away from Madara to avoid the summer god seeing just how hurt he is right now.

"If I don't go I won't be around in a millennia," Madara points out, rolling his eyes, "I need my power back or I'll just die again."

Tobirama goes rigid, hating that Madara has a very valid point. Rather than admit he's wrong, Tobirama disappears in a swirl of snow, leaving Madara alone in the human's living room.

Madara just sighs, shaking his head at Tobirama's childish actions before he goes to gather the few things he'll need for the trip. It wasn't as if he didn't understand Tobirama's hesitance to let him near the Uchiha, he didn't want to be on the same plane as them, let alone trapped in a room with them, but he truly had no choice. True reincarnation, especially for a god as powerful as himself, took millennia upon millennia to happen naturally. Normally it would have taken at least another 9 millennia or so before his fellow seasons should have been able to sense him; at which point they would have been able to help him reclaim his lost powers. However since Tobirama had found him so much earlier, and reawakened his soul, Madara had little choice but to speed the process up or risk starting it all over again. Without the other gods able to sense him, and Hashirama currently pissed at him for stealing Tobirama, Madara knew the only god he might get help from is Tobirama, if the winter god can stop pouting long enough to actually be helpful.

Much too soon for Madara's liking he's standing before the Uchiha's meeting place. Now that he remembered his past, he couldn't help but admire the amount of balls Tajima must have had to select here of all places for the Uchiha's "ancestral shrine". The fact that this place had survived Tobirama's rage for over 1000 years is even more impressive, he knew his death site was always the epicenter of a truly horrifying blizzard each year. Steeling his nerves, Madara takes a deep breath and walks into what he hoped wouldn't turn into his grave again.

Everything goes smoothly at first, no one suspects that Madara is anything but human, until it's his turn to "present an issue" to the clan. Finding himself in the center of the room where he had once died, it takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep his voice steady as he speaks.

"Honorable elders," Madara greets with a proper bow, his father had beaten manners into him at a young age, "thank you for agreeing to hear my rather unorthodox request."

"It's rare you wish to speak to us at all," the oldest elder mutters, drawing a puff from his pipe despite his wife's frown, "for someone rumored to be the great Tajima's reincarnation you don't usually take an active part in our clan."

"Cut the boy some slack dear," his wife chides, "he's still young enough that clan politics probably bore him to tears."

"What did you wish to speak with us about Brother?" Obito questions, drawing Madara's eyes to his older brother's scarred face; the elder Uchiha had been caught in one of Tobirama's avalanches and would always bare the marks. Fitting Madara found himself thinking, since Obito acted more like Tajima than he ever had.

"I met the God of Winter," Madara states, his tone even and his eyes hard, "he claims our powers weren't freely given, but stolen from the God of Summer. Our clan is responsible for the seasons being thrown out of balance; we need to return our power to the gods."

"You are aware of what you're asking us, correct?" Obito asks, his lone eye flat in a way that makes Madara nervous.

"I am, but we are already a strong clan, returning what was stolen won't hurt us." For a long moment no one speaks and Madara resists the urge to fidget under the unimpressed looks the elders are sending him. He was beginning to regret not listening to Tobirama.

"How do you know the seasons are off balance?" Obito asks instead, making Madara's brows furrow in confusion.

"What do you mean Brother? The ancient texts Father made us read talk about it."

"You mean the ancient texts that no Uchiha has ever been able to decipher?" Obito presses and Madara feels his blood run cold. "Why would the winter god appear before someone from the clan it hates?"

"What are you saying?" Madara mutters, pulling his weakening magic to his fingertips, ready to launch enough fireballs to escape.

"What I'm saying," Obito begins with a cruel smirk, a flare of his magic activating the runes around Madara, "is we've known the truth about you since you were a child; our little summer come back to strengthen us once more."

The runes glow brightly, and Madara feels a very familiar flash of horror, before his magic is forcibly shoved back into his core and a scream is torn from his throat as he collapses to his knees. "Please...Brother, don't do this..." Madara pants, glancing up at his brother through his bangs, praying he can reach the older man.

Obito's face remains impassive as he leaves his elevated perch and walks down to stand above Madara. "You have never been my brother," he states, disgust tainting his words, "you're nothing more than fodder to strengthen my great clan."

Terror grips Madara's soul as the truth crashes into him like a tidal wave; the elders had always known the truth. His clan had never forgotten how they got their power; instead they were just waiting for him to do this so they could repeat Tajima's actions once more. Darkness licks at the corners of Madara's vision as he feels Obito flare his magic once more. The glowing runes around him slowly crawl onto his skin, burning like brands, and Madara bites through his lip in an effort to hold back a blood curdling scream. When unconsciousness mercifully pulls at him, Madara just lets himself fall.

Madara comes to some time later with a scream, a burning knife stabbing through his wrists and pinning him to the center of the rune circle that still haunts his nightmares. It takes him a second to remember his family betraying him, but when he does, Madara just looks up into his brother's cold eye, resigned.

"Not going to fight me?" Obito sneers, crouched beside Madara with the ceremonial dagger in one hand.

Madara doesn't bother to answer, doesn't see the point; his magic was sealed and without Tobirama at his side he was done for. "You won't survive winter," he mutters because he knows Tobirama will wipe the Uchiha clan off the face of the earth before he succumbs to the madness he'd threatened early.

"We'll take its power too," Obito chuckles, "all the seasons will fall to us."

"Will we now?" An icy voice mutters, the tone making every Uchiha shudder in fear while Madara can't help but grin. Obito slowly turns to face the newcomer, unsure of what to make of the pale man leaning against the wall just outside the reach of the runes binding Madara.

"And who the fuck are you?" He demands, frowning at the sound of wind rattling through frozen trees that greets his question. It takes him a moment to realize the pale bastard is laughing at him.

"I am the God of Winter," Tobirama chuckles, his grin as sharp as the ice he commands, "and you have something of mine."

"Summer belongs to the Uchiha!" Obito growls, standing up to face the god, "once we take its power again we'll take yours too!"

"Have you ever wondered why Summer's power can be stolen only on this day?" Tobirama questions, raising one pale eyebrow when the Uchiha glare at him.

"Summer is weakest on the Winter Solstice, everyone knows that!"

"That is true, because Winter is strongest today," Tobirama points out, freezing the ground with barely a spark of magic. As the ice slowly creeps up the Uchiha's legs, Tobirama finally pushes off the wall and walks toward Obito. "Your despicable ancestors stole Summer from me once, you won't steal him again."

"Fuck you!" Obito snarls, a great blast of fire bursting from him, melting the ice holding him. He catches Tobirama by surprise, the god hadn't expected anyone with fire magic that strong, and he manages to graze the god's cheek with his dagger. "I will make you pay for mocking my clan!"

Tobirama braces himself for another blast of fire, ready to counter it this time, however it never comes. Instead the ball of fire melts away the ice covering the runes around Madara just as Obito activates them. Madara's scream as his magic is torn away stabs right through Tobirama's heart and before he can stop himself, he is lunging for Madara, his ice breaking the circle once more.

"Too easy," Obito mocks, plunging his dagger into Tobirama's exposed back. Or at least he tries too, surprised when a spike of black ice suddenly impales him. Obito's eye travels from the ice to Madara as the dagger clatters uselessly to the ground. "H-how...?"

"I won't let you..." Madara pants from his half-crouched from, wrists bloody and torn from escaping the knife, "touch my winter..." Madara sways, collapsing into Tobirama's waiting arms.

"Always so reckless my summer," Tobirama mummers, gently easing his magic into Madara to heal his wounds even as he fully encases the Uchiha in ice. The bastards wouldn't die yet, not with their stolen fire magic, but Madara needed them alive to extract his power.

"You came..." Madara mutters, nuzzling into the fur surrounding his lover's neck, "thought you were mad at me."

"I’m furious," Tobirama states, carding a hand through Madara's wild mane, "but that doesn't mean I'd let you die."

"Thank you."

The two lapse into an easy silence as Tobirama heals Madara's wounds and gets the branded runes off him. Once the summer god is steady on his feet again, he looks at the people he thought were his family.

"You brought this on yourself Brother," Madara mumbles before he gathers his magic once more, muttering an ancient spell in a language only Tobirama understands.

Tobirama watches as the spell works, watches the stolen magic finally return to its original owner. The changes happen more slowly, first Tobirama feels the bound that had held him as Madara's summon fade away after all a god had no use for a summon. Next pale skin darkens to the sun scorched color only Madara had ever possessed, a lovely shade Tobirama had missed dearly, while dark hair loses the rigidity only humans had. The moment Tobirama knows his summer is back is the when molten eyes slowly blink open and find his.

“Welcome back,” Tobirama murmurs, afraid this is just another dream.

“My winter,” Madara grins, teeth sharp as familiar glowing symbols appear on the visible skin, “thank you…”

Tobirama’s heart beats painfully as he drinks in the sight of his summer, it had been too long since he’d seen his eternal partner in all his glory. His joy quickly turns to worry when Madara sways again and only his arm around the older god’s waist keeps him up right. “Madara!?”

“I’m fine,” the summer god mutters, even as he leans heavily on Tobirama, “just tired…”

“Ah, I suppose you really can’t feel the power you just got back,” Tobirama chuckles, though it sounds a little strained even to his own ears. It would make sense that Madara’s power was still largely absent, it was still Tobirama’s solstice after all, but he was still concerned about his eternal partner.

“Take me home?” Madara requests, his voice quiet in a way that suggests a deeper hurt.

“Of course my winter,” Tobirama mutters, brushing a kiss against the other’s forehead. It’s very telling when Madara doesn’t fight being swept up into a bridal-style hold; if Tobirama shatters the Uchiha icicles in his anger, well Madara doesn’t seem to notice. The two gods disappear in a swirl of snow before a record shattering storm wipes the entire compound off the face of the earth.

Madara barely stirs as they reappear in his human house, and Tobirama frowns as he lays the newly reborn god on the bed. It was clear Madara had been deeply hurt by the Uchiha, betrayed by the ones he thought he loved, and he would need some time away from the other gods to heal. Tobirama is just selfish enough to hide away both their magics, he wanted to keep Madara to himself for a little longer.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Madara grumbles, cracking one eye open to glare at his partner, “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Now who said you get to sleep?” Tobirama chuckles, gracefully dropping down on the bed and pinning the weaker god under him. “I seem to recall making you a promise on the last solstice we spent together.”

“You did?” Madara mutters, his brows furrowing in confusion. It takes him a few moments to remember the last time he’d been with his winter like this, so many centuries ago, but when he remembers a lovely blush colors his cheeks. “With how tired I am, you might be able to keep me out until Spring, if you’re lucky.”

“One day you will learn to stop doubting my skills,” Tobirama chuckles, leaning down and claiming Madara’s lips in a searing kiss that chases all the bad thoughts away.

[comicteaparty]

April 15th-April 21st, 2020 Reader Favorites Archive

The archive for the Reader Favorites chat that occurred from April 15th, 2020 to April 21st, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

If all webcomics everywhere suddenly costed money to read, how much would you be willing to pay to read them?

carcarchu

i've currently spent about 10 dollars reading paid webcomics and got about 60 chapters with that much. i'll be buying more webcomics in the future but if it's too pricy i'll be less inclined to buy

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I buy the print volumes of my favourite webcomics, which is about £10-15 for around 100-200 pages? Depends on the comic. But I do get a book to leaf through, so dunno if that counts.

carcarchu

as an added note the app i use to buy webcomics has an interesting feature where u can purchase "food" to donate to the author directly without / in addition to buying the chapters themsevles(edited)

oh now that chalcara mentioned it i also buy the physical copies of webcomics as well and i've probably spent close to 100ish on that

also also that same app gives u daily login coins and u can also watch up to 5 video ads per day to gain extra coins which u can use to buy more chapters or donate directly to the author

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I DID try a monthly subscription to a rather specific comic content webpage, but I don‘t like that comittment. Vastly prefer buy-once-keep-something-forever; even if it‘s just pdf.

Yeah, have bought pdf‘s of comics before because of shipping expenses.

So yeah, buy once, get something, yay! Subscription, boo.

carcarchu

i had to buy a monthly subscription thing for a webcomic once too but it was a completed comic and the app has a download button so i just downloaded all the chapters of it all at once. i could see the monthly payment being annoying if u had to keep paying it in perpetuity though

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i've paid for comics before

I'd probably pay to keep reading the comics I love

but I'd be reluctant to invest money to read a new comic i don't know is good or not

i'd need a good friend, person I follow, or well written review's recomendation first(edited)

Feather J. Fern

I will buy physical copies most of the time. I do like having the print in my hands. If it was like a site sub though, like you can put your comics on a site and everyone gets paid a share, then I wouldn't mind because you get options.

But if it is just one comic though, I would be worried,

For example, if people were paid to upload onto Webtoons, but you have to pay like 5 dollars for reading for 1 month, I wouldn't mind because I still can choose what to read

But if for example, my comic is five dollars to read monthly by itself, I don't htink people want it

Especially new readers

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah i think that I wouldnt want to have to spend money to try a comic. Im really very picky and I wouldnt want to risk basically just losing money because I dont like a comic. To continue reading the ones I like I think I'd spend money, but honestly I'd probably only do that once they're complete, too. A monthly payment/subscription for a service with many comics, though, I could see myself paying for

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Depends. I’m fine with paying it at once to read it in one go, but not necessarily per month

Also would pay if I got to see a preview first

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

As a reader, I also prefer to know what the comic is about first, before committing to pay to read it, like going in blind. I prefer the subscription option to read any comic but not per comic chapter. I like to support the authors if the story appeals to me or purchase their ebooks(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I would likely pay to keep reading the ones I'm already into. But I would be very reluctant to check out new ones if I had to pay to even check them out. The first few pages aren't enough in most cases. I also wouldn't be averse to the subscription idea, assuming the platform isn't like, catering to a genre that I'm not interested in. Physical volumes actually don't interest me in most cases. Storage is a huuuuuge issue for me.

DanitheCarutor

Depends on digital vs. physical, the amount of content and quality. Usually I prefer a physical copy since I like collecting indie comics and am willing to pay 10USD - 30USD, I'll even pay high price for hardcover collector editions if I really, really like the creator's work. Like, I actually have a section of my bookshelf dedicated to printed webcomics, which isn't very full yet but I plan on practically overcumbering it someday. Digital copies and subscriptions, I'm oddly a little more stingy about. I tend to forget about stuff like that very easily, so to save myself from wasting money I would have to be almost a mindless fanatic about the webcomic to buy it digitally or keep up with a weekly/monthly pay subscription. As far as price, if it's a subscription I can't afford a whole lot since I'll probably be trying to take on multiple comics, a digital copy I may pay around the same amount as with a physical book.

I'm not too picky about what I would buy, if it looks really good or interesting I'll maybe subscribe to give it a look through, or buy a chapter/volume if I can afford it. Worst that would happen is I didn't like it after all but supported an indie creator trying to get their work off the ground. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I actually have in fact read many pay-to-read webcomics, and my experience has been somewhere in the middle. I think the most important thing is that the webcomic in question has the first few chapters as free-to-read so that new readers can get a feel for the story, because I wouldn't pay for something I didn't know I would like. The other things is for comics to be affordable. I'm not very wealthy, so the price of a comic chapter needs to be pretty cheap for me to invest. $1 per chapter is the absolute highest limit, and the chapter has to be at least 10+ pages. I'm way more willing to spend more money on print comics because it is something physical that I can put on my shelf, and because I know printing costs can be expensive.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

No way I'd pay to read a comic without having at least the first chapter free. Even if people are recommending it to me, I still want to see it for myself first. But even then... I don't know if I would spend money on an online subscription - I'd probably wait to see what people are saying about it, save my money, and shell out a bit extra for a print edition (if that's in the cards for the comic). If a comic is free online, I feel even more like supporting it with a physical purchase. If a webcomic is locked behind a paywall... I get it, but it certainly discourages me as a reader.

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Same here really. I much prefer giving money to a Patreon or buying merch for something I love than pay to take a chance on something I might not like

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I agree. I don't mind subscription if it's someone's work I enjoyed but I'm more inclined to buy physical copies or get my own digital pdf of the same thing tbh

Feather J. Fern

I wouldn't mind an idea of like, you get 1 page free a month (Slow I know) but you can buy the full thing now as an Ebook or something. That system would help the author get money (for people who want to support and love their comic from the slow post rate) and great for people who can't afford comic, and read them free at the library becuase they can't even afford computers at home.

I like the print comics too for libraries, gives comics more free access

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ah imagine if we could check out print webcomics at the library now

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

there is a few libaries that are doin that

Feather J. Fern

Yes! Actually, a few librarians went to Vancaf as long as it has an ISBN it makes it easier (Well we hope there is a copy catalogue somewhere lol) And I know in the US there are a lot more librarians grabbing comics for their shelves

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yesss which makes it super good

makes me wish I could go to my local libary but like everything else here, it's currently closed orz

Feather J. Fern

Hell, from a podcast I know there is a large interest in comics for libraries, and I know recently they are using comics to try to bring more literacy to people who don't want to read.

This might be off topic I will move it somewhere else

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Maybe when I get mine printed I'll go see if the local library would like a few

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

that is why I'm going to be a teacher. Get more people use comics for education lol

GuildmasterPhill

The tricky thing would be finding new comics to get into... how would you get exposed to them? And there are so many, how would you know which ones are worth whatever pricetag goes with them? It would certainly change the whole landscape of webcomics, to be sure.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

It would probably increase the demand for webcomic reviews.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

yeah

And again, the first few chapters being available as a sample would be really important.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Put in requests for webcomic print collections at your local library! They probably won't get bought during the lockdown, but at least your interest will be on record when the librarians get back.

Mine stocks some, although it's skewed toward really well-known ones -- Homestuck, Digger, Nimona, Cucumber Quest, Skin Horse, Penny Arcade, Gunnerkrigg Court (there's more, I just can't remember them off the top of my head).(edited)

Capitania do Azar

If I have to pay before I can know if I'll like the contents? I'd probably pass, unless there was some other big incentive for me to read it (like a friend's recommendation). Paywalls can be a big turnoff if you don't know what you're paying for, that's what I'm saying. However, if there were previews or free chapters, and then I had to pay to read the rest? I'd probably invest those €€€.

kayotics

I read Stand Still Stay Silent at the library, actually. That’s how I managed to actually get into it, I felt like it was a better experience. As for paying: I will sometimes buy a physical book of a comic I want to read but haven’t yet, just because reading on paper is easier on my eyes. So, sometimes I’ll pay money if I’m really interested in it. But it usually takes me a while to get to that point. If every webcomic went to a paid platform, I’d probably be less likely to read Webcomics.

Feather J. Fern

A thought occurred to me, if all webcomics are paid to read, how would the newbies, or highschoolers, get an audience at all if no one would buy to read their comic?

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

The under 18 creators does pose an interesting question -- are they allowed to make money at all? Would they have to get their parents to sign a thing for them?

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I believe so

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

As for small creators with no existing fans, I imagine they'd have to rely on subscription platforms where readers don't have to pay for their comic specifically.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Yeah, or just make no money like now

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

well, it would just also mean no readers because in this world, there isn't even an option to make no money in this world, the webcomic emperor has decreed that all webcomics must cost money to read, and you shall be thrown into The Pit if you make yours free

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Exactly

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

actually i guess you could kinda get around it by making your comic cost a penny

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

But yeah, you'd also not have readers and be unable to build a following

Basically the barrier to entry shifts and becomes more like traditional print publishing

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Slightly different from trad publishing since anybody CAN still post up their comic -- even if no one would read it X'D

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

TRUE

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

actually you know what it would kinda be like? steam like basically any game devs from the smallest indie devs to the massive corporations publish their PC games through steam. and to my knowledge, all games on steam cost at least some money so indie creators' only option to get eyes on their comic would be the same as indie devs getting eyes on their game. find someone popular willing to review it, and hope for some word of mouth.

Feather J. Fern

Odd take, hold a seminar or not really that but a group gathering where people pay like, 2 dollars, because money still needs to happen, so a bunch of newbie comic artists and pitch their first chapter or something

Oh wait I know what my brain was thinking

like comixlogy

If you can have like a section like "New comics starting out, you can read the whole first chapter for just 0.99" then I might scroll through and be like "You know what, I wouldn't mind some entertaiment"

I think also defintely reviews are really important with this situation

If someoene was like "This art is good, plot is good, grammar is good" I woudl be like "Yeah I would read the first three chapters"(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Steam sounds about accurate

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I definitely think that in this case, good reviews would be like gold

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeah

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Even Print comics do freebies to rustle up new audience. And steam has a pretty lenient „don‘t like this game? Get your money back“ policy.

RebelVampire

For me the answer here depends on a lot of factors. If it's a one time "bulk" purchase, I'd probably go from $5-$10 depending on amount of pages, time to read, and just overall quality. I'd of course have to be interested as well, but that's an aside point for me in terms of what I'd be willing to pay. Anything past $10 is just kind of too rich for my blood sort of thing, unless it's like a super volume or something. As a subscription, this would heavily depend on the service. How are they curating content? Do they add more content regularly? How much content do they have? How are they innovating to improve my experience as a reader and to be able to find content? How is the industry as a whole? Are there a few competitors making it an affordable option, or is it becoming like tv cable because everyone wants their slice of the pie? With this many questions, it's hard to put a price on a subscription service. Definitely no more than I pay for Hulu or Netflix. But honestly, with the state of the industry right now, I don't think the price would be justified if they made it even like $10/month. Cause as it stands none of the hosts really do anything to improve my experience as a reader and only make things harder for everyone.

Feather J. Fern

This topic makes me love webcomics more, people are giving it to us for free, and It is amazing the internet can give someone an outlet to do so. Thank you internet

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

If you can have like a section like "New comics starting out, you can read the whole first chapter for just 0.99" then I might scroll through and be like "You know what, I wouldn't mind some entertaiment"

@Feather J. Fern dang I would sign up so fast if there was a good subscription service like this. And same time it helps give something back to New creators!

Feather J. Fern

To be honest, if I had the money, and the power, and the programing skills I would. I would love to support creators like this. Becuase it also gives people confidence too.

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week 2020: Day 2 - He Likes Guys

Summary: After a crappy post-college first year, Laxus jumped at the opportunity to leave town for a week for a road trip with his friends. He intended it just to be a week away with his friends, but when he meets an unfamiliar stranger, the vacation turns into something much more. [Fraxus Multichapter]

This is the second part of my Fraxus Week admissions, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. This year I’ve made the prompts into a single multi-chapter fic. You can see all the chapters in the Masterpost linked below. Hope you enjoy.

You can read this on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, and under the cut. Read the other chapters from this masterlist.

Chapter Two – Breakfast Together

"We should have gotten the train," Evergreen muttered, cracking her back. "Why didn't we get the train?"

As he stretched his legs, Laxus shared the sentiment. They had parked the RV overnight in a small camping site and slept there for the night. Evergreen had taken the single bed, Bickslow and Freed shared the double, and Laxus had been left to curl up in the reclining front seat. It had been Laxus' suggestion he take the seat, claiming that Bickslow deserved a bed after driving most of the day, and Evergreen would probably murder the three of them if she hadn't been given a bed after being woken up early.

There was also another reason. The possibility of sharing the bed with Freed.

Laxus had always felt strongly. He was ruled by emotions, and they overtook him quickly. He had never had a good handle on controlling how he felt, and right now he felt something akin to a crush on Freed. The man was incredibly handsome, and fun to be around. He fell into line with the teasing nature of the friendship group, was smart, and had a bit of a snarky side. It was great.

But Laxus was also a rationalist. He hadn't had a long-term relationship before, and he knew that this was just a crush. He would get over it by the end of the week, he just needed to be patient and careful. And risking a chance of sharing a bed with the man was not being careful.

When he woke up with a crick in his back, he regretted his choice.

After they had all woken up, Bickslow had informed them that they would be getting breakfast at a nearby Truckstop Diner to celebrate their first full day at being on the road. Nobody disagreed, and they had arrived there by nine. It was a quaint little place, and the smell of cooking bacon hitting his senses made Laxus' stomach groan.

"Because getting the train is boring," Bickslow grinned. "And on the train we can't leave you behind on the road if you keep complaining."

"Please do, it's better than being trapped in a box with you," Evergreen muttered.

The four of them walked to a small table in the back corner of the restaurant, Laxus letting his two friends playfully squabble between themselves as he looked over the breakfast menu; it was pretty much what he expected. The promise of bacon pancakes made his stomach growl again. When he caught sight of Freed glancing at him with a grin, he reddened slightly.

"Shut up," He muttered, but had the smallest of grins on his face.

"I didn't say anything," Freed chuckled, which was a rather nice sound. "Although one of us should probably go to the counter, those two probably won't stop if we don't make them."

"They like this at college then?" Laxus asked with a smile.

"Once in the cafeteria they had an argument that lasted about an hour about if college got their chicken nuggets from the same place that McDonalds got theirs," Freed chuckled. "At some point Bickslow actually emails the president of the college to see if it was right. He didn't get a reply and pouted about it for a week."

"Seems about right," Laxus grinned. "Did Ever keep arguing with him to piss him off?"

"Of course," Freed chuckled, then looked towards the other two. "I'm going to order, what do the two of you want?"

They both relayed their orders to him, and he shifted out of the chair and towards the counter. Laxus almost managed not to sneak a glance at the man's retreating form, but failed. In his defence, the man had a damn good physique and the fact his trousers hugged his thighs and ass were not Laxus' fault. Thankfully, both Evergreen and Bickslow had fallen into another argument between themselves and hadn't noticed Laxus' wandering eyes.

Trying to distract himself, Laxus glanced out the large window and looked at the long expanse of land before him. He had lived in Magnolia for the majority of his life and had always been surrounded by things, both people and buildings. This had been why he always liked going on vacation with his grandfather; everything seemed so open in the coast.

Again, Laxus found himself glad that Bickslow had insisted he come. This was what he needed after the disappointment of the last year. But he was getting a bed tonight. Even if he had to share the thing with the guy he was crushing on.

When put like that, his problem seemed pretty insubstantial.

With the man at the front of his mind again, Laxus allowed his gaze to drift back towards him. The man was talking to the woman behind the counter, smiling at her in a way that made Laxus feel just a little bit disappointed. There seemed to be a clear flirtation in the man's expression, and the blush on the woman's face probably meant that the whatever he was saying was equally flattering. As utterly ridiculous as it felt, Laxus found himself feeling slightly jealous at the display.

"Think we're gonna have someone else in the truck tonight," Laxus muttered, trying not to sound bitter.

"What?" Evergreen asked.

Both she and Bickslow looked towards the counter, as Laxus hadn't removed his gaze. They both seemed amused by the display, and Evergreen even laughed, which forced Laxus to look at her with both annoyance and confusion.

"He's not flirting, baby," Bickslow explained. "He's a natural charmer. Doesn't even realise he's doing it. Poor girl."

"He looks pretty into it," Laxus mumbled.

"He likes men, Laxus," Evergreen laughed again, and the blonde snapped his gaze onto the woman. He hadn't expected that; he'd hoped, but that was just wishful thinking.

"Really?" He asked, and his voice thankfully didn't show the hopefulness.

"Yeah," Evergreen smiled. "If not, his boyfriend might be a bit disappointed."

A lot of things happened when Evergreen said that. A rushing of disappointment filled Laxus, because Freed was of course in a relationship and Laxus wasn't the type of man who felt for people in relationships. Evergreen reached into her pocket to pull out her phone and typed away at it, claiming that Freed's twitter icon was of him kissing his boyfriend. And Bickslow quickly tensed up and looked away.

"Oh, he must have changed it," Evergreen hummed, clicking into his account. "They'll be pictures though."

It was then that Laxus realised that Bickslow was acting weird, staring directly at the obnoxiously red table. It took a few seconds for Laxus to guess why the man had gotten so awkward, and his assumption was proven when Evergreen spoke again.

"Oh," She whispered.

"What?" Laxus asked.

"His relationships status, he's…" She looked up towards Freed, who was still talking to the woman at the counter. "One second."

She left the table and walked towards Freed, and Laxus glanced towards Bickslow again. The man was looking down at the table still, and he was shifting in his seat awkwardly. Laxus stared toward him and almost glared, because it was pretty damn clear that the other man had known Freed was single. How he knew, Laxus didn't know, because it must have been a secret if Evergreen hadn't known.

"You knew, didn't you?" Laxus eventually said.

"Kinda," Bickslow admitted. "Bumped into Freed after it happened. He needed someone to talk to, I was there."

"Is he okay?" Laxus asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"No idea, the guy kinda closes himself off with his emotions. You can never tell with him," Bickslow sighed. "I was shocked when he said he was still coming with us, honestly. I wanted him to come because he had a bad year – college has been a lot harder than we all thought it would be – and I thought the asshole leaving him might have been the final straw."

"Why didn't ya tell anyone?"

"Freed asked me not to," Bickslow sighed. "He doesn't like people fussing over him. Definitely doesn't want it from a stranger, so don't get all weird around him," Laxus nodded at the request, and Bickslow relaxed slightly. "Good. And honestly, I'm kinda glad. They weren't great together, and now he gets to meet you while he's single."

"Bickslow," Laxus hissed. "He just got out of a relationship-"

"I'm not setting the two of you up," Bickslow assured him, putting his hands up in defence. "It's just, I've always thought you'd be good together. Maybe as friends, maybe boyfriends. And now that he's single he gets to make his own opinion of you without worrying about making the asshat jealous. This way he gets to know you on his own terms. It's why I hardly told the two of you anything about each other."

"Sounds like you're trying to set us up," Laxus muttered.

"I'm not, I promise," Bickslow assured him. "And besides, I saw ya checking out his ass. Like you'd complain about me setting ya up with him."

Laxus didn't say anything, instead blushed slightly and glanced over towards Freed and Evergreen. They had walked away from the counter where Freed had placed the order, and were having a hushed conversation with each other. Freed didn't look particularly sad about it, in fact he seemed to be the one reassuring Evergreen. Laxus could only assume that Freed was assuring the woman that he was okay, and not a heartbroken mess. It was clear that Bickslow's request that Laxus not treat him as if he might break with a wrong word was the right thing to do.

He could do that. He had never been blessed socially, now that was to his advantage.

~~~

It turned out to be harder than he thought.

The issue lay in the fact that Laxus didn't know Freed. He didn't know how to talk to the man in a normal situation, never mind the kind of situation where he wasn't able to talk about the elephant in the room. So, as to keep his promise to Bickslow, Laxus had decided not to speak at all. Which, as much as Laxus wished it wasn't, was awkward.

Eating breakfast had been relatively easy, as Laxus had allowed himself to focus on the food rather than the people at the table. Given how loud his stomach had been growling, nobody had thought it was odd that Laxus didn't say anything, and the large portion of bacon meant that he was the last to finish. The awkwardness came after, when Laxus suddenly found himself at a loss for words as to what to say to Freed.

It couldn't continue for the rest of the week. It just couldn't.

So when the two men were left alone – Bickslow was filling the RV with gas and Evergreen had gone to the bathroom – Laxus saw this as good a chance as any to talk to the man. He jogged towards the man, who was leaning against a wall of the diner, and met his gaze when he looked up at him. He really did have strikingly blue eyes.

"Hey," Laxus said; he should have thought about what he was going to say beforehand.

"Hey," Freed repeated, a small look of amusement on his face. "I thought you were ignoring me in favour of bacon."

"Oh, you picked up on that," Laxus chuckled awkwardly, cringing slightly.

"If you looked any harder at it then it might have caught fire," Freed said with a teasing grin.

"Sorry," Laxus cringed at himself again. "Look. So, Bickslow told me. That you were dating a guy and that you're not anymore. And he said not to bring it up, or to treat you weird, which is what I'm gonna try and do. But I might mention it without thinking, or be weird. I can't promise I won't. But I thought that, me trying to be normal and potentially fucking up is better than if I was just awkward and trying not to say anything that might upset ya," Laxus rubbed the back of his neck with a painful expression on his face. "It's pretty clear I ain't being subtle about it."

"Thank you," Freed said, his smile now more genuine. "I had expected that was the reason you were suddenly being strange. Honestly I'm shocked Evergreen didn't find out sooner."

"She's protesting twitter because Erza – a girl she used to have some stupid rivalry with – got verified," Laxus supplied, and Freed laughed a little.

"That sounds accurate," He chuckled. "And I'm glad that you spoke to me rather than trying to avoid me. I do appreciate what Bickslow meant when he told you not to treat me differently, but I think it's better to not have something hanging over us for the rest of the week."

"Me too," Laxus nodded, and relief flooded him. He had worried he would offend Freed by talking about it.

"Speaking of things hanging over us, you owe me two more dollars for breakfast," Freed said, and Laxus furrowed his brow slightly. He had been sure he had given the right amount for his meal. When he looked at the man, Freed was grinning. "It costed two extra dollars for the added bacon I got for you."

"Why did ya get me more bacon?" Laxus asked with a chuckle.

"Partly because I could hear your stomach from half a mile away," Freed grinned, and Laxus felt a small grin form on his own face. "And partly because I expect someone with your physique is completely obsessed with protein."

The teasing insult almost made Laxus miss the fact Freed had noticed his physique. Almost.

"Pretty big assumption your making there," Laxus chuckled, deciding not to think about the fact Freed had apparently taken note of his body. It was obvious, not exactly something he could have missed. "And you're the one who wanted the bacon, not me. So I ain't paying for it."

"It's funny you think you have a choice in the matter," Freed grinned, and Laxus found himself entranced by it. "And as for making assumptions, I'm quite sure I'm correct. Given that I saw you looking at the calorie value of the microwave meal we had last night, it just makes sense that you like to know the nutrients of food. And, of course, the amount of protein you intake."

"You don't know that's what I was looking at," Laxus muttered. "I could've just liked the packaging."

"That seems likely," Freed commented sarcastically, and they started walking across the parking lot and towards the RV, that Bickslow had parked up. "But if you unlocked your phone right now, you'd definitely have some kind of nutrition app."

"I don't," Laxus lied. He had two.

"Laxus, if you can prove that to me right now then I will give you a hundred dollars cash and I'll about a thousand push-ups," Freed deadpanned, holding Laxus' gaze.

The blonde tried to maintain eye contact for a while, and was almost tempted to pull out his phone, try to subtly delete the two apps on his phone just to wipe the smug expression off the man's face. Not that it would work, of course, but it would be nice to give the man a hit to his ego while making some money. And watching him attempt to do that many push-ups would be… delightful. Would his shirt ride up? Would Laxus see his muscles flex and strain? And if he managed it, just how hot would that be?

It was for the best that Laxus couldn't prove his point, really.

"Being smug ain't a good look," Laxus muttered, and Freed laughed his smooth laugh again.

"I think I pull it off better than most," Freed grinned before climbing into the RV before Laxus.

He wasn't going to say anything, but Laxus found himself unable to disagree. He grinned as he climbed into the truck and took the seat opposite Freed. This contrast between the awkwardness of the diner table and the one they were sat at now was clear, with how easier this felt.

Too busy grinning, Laxus missed Bickslow's own smile and glinting eyes.

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 2

It’s heeerree! I’m so excited to release the second chapter of this story. Hopefully I will also be bringing back As the Raven Flies soon. This series is based off of the Faint of Hearts series by @dreamwritesimagines​, as well as it’s sequel series Crown of Hearts. I would highly recommend checking the series out! It’s one of my favorites and I really love it. I’ve also been thinking about adding Remind Me to Archive of My Own. I don’t have an account right now, but I might get one and start adding fic there. Let me know what you guys think!

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines​ @rhabakoli​

Wordcount: 2562

Chapter Two: The girl traveled to a far off kingdom to serve her Queen, filled with a hostile people. She would soon find though that things were not what she believed them to be.

Isolde refused to believe it. She had always known her queen was a poisoner, but she had never expected these poison words from her mouth. How had she been here so long that she had gone mad already? 

“Don’t you see, Isolde? They are not what you have been led to believe. You were lied to.”

Isolde’s hands shake when she looks at her queen. 

“I was lied to? Is that it? It was a lie when they burned down my home? It was a lie when they killed Beatrice? You remember my sister, do you not? Or perhaps they have made you forget her along with the rest of our people. Was it a lie when they tried to kill me, when they dragged girls off the streets into dark corners and had their way with them? Believe me, your majesty.” Somehow, the words sound like an insult without meaning to. “I have tried to convince myself that this is all just a dream. If I could not do it, I do not imagine you would fare much better.”

She looked up at Isolde, and the regret was clear in her eyes. For a moment, she stumbles for words. But she is a queen. She is a queen and so it does not take her too long to regain her footing, to remember what it is she has to say.

“Have you ever been to war, Isolde?” 

The quiet words are the first thing she says, but she already knows the answer so Isolde does not know why she lets the silence hang in the air.

“No.”

“Then you would not know. You would not know that men on a battlefield can no more be controlled than a horse in a snake pit. Tame as any man may seem at home in his own bed, throw him to the vipers and he grows wild. He forgets friend and foe, and no amount of coaxing or calming will bring him out of that until the danger has passed. I never ordered what happened to your home. My husband never ordered what happened to your home. All we wanted was a better life for our son. But you have reminded me that sometimes...a better life comes at a cost.” The queen grows somber at this, something deep rising in her eyes that Isolde does not understand fully. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry for what happened to you. For what happened to Beatrice. I do remember her, you know. She was always such a sweet girl. I remember playing with her when we were children. She always made the prettiest daisy chains.”

Isolde gives a wet laugh, finding her eyes full of tears. “You couldn’t make a daisy chain on your life.”

“No, no I could not.” She laughs as well, and suddenly she transforms from the Queen of Kattegat back into Isolde’s Snapdragon.

Isolde wipes away her tears, straightening herself out. “You will forgive me though, my queen, if I find it difficult to bow to your king. If it does not come easy to my heart to love your people. It is hard for me to love a city when I know I cannot sleep soundly in it.”

Snapdragon nods. “I understand. Truly, I do. It was the same for me when I first arrived. I know they have told you horrible things, but please. See what a war would not let you see before.”

“I will do my best.” 

Isolde could not promise her that she would be able to find a way through the smoke and blood that filled her mind even now. Could not lie to her queen.

“For now I suppose I should just be grateful that this means Earl Eric probably has no plans to eat me,” Isolde joked.

Snapdragon snorted. “Eat you?”

“You never know with Vikings, Snapdragon.” 

Her friend gives her a sly grin that she has never seen before. “Well, I suppose you never do know. With the way Earl Eric looks at you, perhaps he really will devour you.”

Isolde blinked. “...What? Snapdragon, are you feeling quite alright?”

She giggled. “Oh, never better. Don’t worry. After a little while here you still start to understand what I mean. The people here are...much more open than back home.”

“I will have to take your word for that, my friend. In the meantime, I do have one favor to ask of you.”

“Ask it.”

“Please, I am begging you, do not make that great blond brute follow me around anymore. He is insufferable.”

“Scared because I said he might eat you?” The queen of Kattegat teased.

Isolde scowled. “No. I merely do not like him. He smiles too much. Someone who smiles that much must be lying to you.”

“And you, my darling, do not smile enough. The great blond brute stays.”

Isolde’s face fell. “My queen!”

“Perhaps he will grow on you. Anyhow, if he is really so terrible as you say, he will make the rest of my people look better in comparison. And no one knows Kattegat better than Earl Eric, outside of the royal family. If I could escort you myself I would, but-”

A pretty young maid stuck her head through the door after a brief knock, dirty blonde hair gleaming softly in the light. “My queen, the prince is fussing and we cannot seem to get him to stop.”

“Say no more, Gala.” Snapdragon gave Isolde a look that said this was exactly why she could not be gallivanting about her country. “I will be there in just a moment.”

The maid, Gala, nodded her hair and ducked back out of the room.

“I shall see to it that Earl Eric is sent to you. Do try to be civil, Isolde.” 

Isolde pouted, but she knew there was no use arguing with her friend. Much had changed with her, and her willingness to assert her authority was one of those things. Not that Isolde could say she was surprised. She had always felt more in the queen but had never had the words to say it. Could not have guessed where they would stand now.

Isolde wasn’t sure whether she was meant to wait here, or to wander the halls until Earl Eric happened to stumble upon her and drag her about this horrible kingdom. She shuddered at the thought of spending most of her time with him. Perhaps she could feign illness.

Before she could make any choice, Earl Eric arrived, as loyal and speedy as a hunting dog. A great, golden hunting dog. Isolde did not bother to uncross her arms from her chest when he entered the room, or to hide her displeasure.

“Ah, my lady! I see something has put you in an ill temper. Do not worry. I will show you all the best sites of Kattegat, and you will feel fine once again!”

Isolde tried not to let her jaw drop in shock. It was simply not proper to comment so blatantly on her mood, no matter how obvious she may have made it. She would add manners to the list of things they did not have in this country.

“Shall we go by horseback or by foot?”

“This is your country,” she huffed. “Should you not know how to travel it.”

He laughed again, and she hated the sound of it. “Some might say I do. The trouble here is that I know how to travel it by foot or by horse, and I thought the choice ought to be yours. So, what will it be?”

“Inkeri has had enough exercise for today, I think.” 

She would rather get her bearings on her own two feet, anyway. If she needed to run suddenly she might not have the horse at her disposal.

“As you wish, my lady.”

“I am not your lady. Call me Isolde. Just Isolde.”

“Isolde the Just, then?”

She blinked at him. “No.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“Isolde.” 

She had heard their king be called Ivar the Boneless. Was that a common practice amongst his people? Should she ask?

Before she could, he answered the question for her. “Here, sometimes we give our people titles. They are usually earned in battle. The king is, of course, Ivar the Boneless. His brother, Valhalla embrace him, was known as Sigrid Snake in the Eye. I thought, perhaps, you had earned yourself the title Isolde the Just.”

Isolde was silent for a moment. “Do you put much stock in the meaning of names here, Earl Eric?”

He paused. “I suppose.”

“And the meaning of your own name?”

“Ruler. Strong.”

“I suppose that name held, seeing as you are an Earl. Do you know the meaning of my name, Earl?”

“No.” He had heard names like it before where she was from, but he himself did not know the meaning.

“It has many meanings, but I have a favorite. My name,” she said, “means ice queen.”

That was not her favorite, but he had no business knowing that. Names had power, and their meanings more so. She was under no obligation to tell this barbarian anything.

“I am not so sure that is fitting, Isolde the Just.”

“You hardly know me, Eric the Irksome.”

He chuckled again. “This is true. Perhaps, though, we should walk as we debate it?”

She realized they had not left the queen’s chambers, and she flushed.

“As you wish.”

The earl took the lead, and she followed behind him.

“Do you have a title then?” It was simple curiosity that made her ask, not any interest in the man.

“Ah...Yes. It is not so important though.”

“Is it not?” She pressed.

“It is not.”

“So then you would not have chosen your title?”

“Perhaps not if given the choice. And you? If you could choose a title for yourself, what would it be, Isolde?”

She let the satisfaction from hearing her name off his lips sway her. Besides, what could it hurt? It was a meaningless title anyway.

“Isolde the Reckoner.”

“A fierce name for a fierce maiden.” He offered his hand to her as he stepped down the ledge into a courtyard, but she did not take it, instead picking up her skirts and taking the step herself. “This is our courtyard.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

“Would you like to see our training area and the stables? Inkeri is there now.”

“Inkeri training? I’m not sure that’s wise. She would blow all of your warriors out of the water. How would their self-esteem ever recover?” The joke was out of her mouth before she could remember that she and this easygoing Viking were not friends.

He chuckled. “Sometimes I think it would do them well to be taken down a peg or two.”

She turned to ice again. His warriors. The warriors that had killed her people.

“Perhaps we should skip the training yard. I wish to see Inkeri and make sure they are treating her well.”

“You have grown to love your horse faster than you have grown to love Kattegat, I fear.” He was joking, but he did not know how right he was.

Dust kicked up at the edges of Isolde’s skirt as she walked, her heavy petticoats weighing her down. It was a miracle she had been able to ride like this at all, that Inkeri could even carry her. Of course, she suspected Inkeri could carry anyone and anything.

“A horse is easy to love. You do not know where it has been, but you can be sure it has not massacred thousands.”

Something dimmed in the Viking’s eyes. “I am sorry for what happened to your people. If I could have spared you...”

“It is easy to turn back the clock and find ourselves the hero. Harder to look to the future and see what may be. Harder still to know that if you did not know me now, you would have spared me nothing then, as you did regardless.”

He stared at her, a deep sadness in his eyes. She almost wanted to take the words back at the watery blue, but she held on. She was still not entirely convinced they felt, despite her queen’s words.

Finally he spoke.

“I hope you never become accustomed to war, Isolde.”

“I fear it may be too late for that.” Her words were clipped.

“An open wound should not claim to be a scar when it bleeds for all the world to see.”

He lead her forward then, without so much as a glance back to see if she would follow. For a moment, she almost didn’t. Then she found herself racing after him, furious that he would dare assume a thing about her. This wouldn’t have happened if not for him. This was-

“This was your fault!” 

The words found their way out of her loud enough for the whole of Kattegat to hear if anyone had been around, but they were out of the wide-open courtyard now, in a more private section of the castle. He turned on her, nothing but pity on his features, and it enraged her further. 

“You did this. You and your people and all of your hate. You saw something you wanted, and you took it, and you did not care for the consequences! You did not care what else you had to take to take a kingdom..”

She tried to throw herself at him, but he stopped her with large, calloused hands, and she realized her mistake. The area they were in was private enough that no one would ever hear her screams. She would end as one of those girls she had seen dragged off into the night, bloody and used up, eyes pecked out by the crows when their bodies were not collected. But he did not move to hurt her, only to restrain her.

“Isolde.” He said her name like he knew her, like he understood, but he could not, could not, could not. “Isolde, it is all right. You are safe. You are all right.”

She struggled out of his grasp, and her body flailed wildly. Her limbs could not decide if they wanted to hurt him or shrink away in fear. Fear coated everything, stuck her mouth shut and made her eyes grow wide, breaths coming short.

“I will not hurt you, and I would not see harm come to you.” He had taken his hands off of her once he realized she did not intend to hurt him anymore, raising them placatingly. His voice was smooth, soothing. “You are safe here.”

She was shaking, the anger still running through her, waging war with her fright.

“I am not safe anywhere,” she murmured, quieter now. “We thought we were safe at home also. And do you know what happened? My sister was strangled to death in her own bed. My friends were dragged into the dark, and if they were lucky, lucky, they found the bodies. So I will not hear of being safe from you.”

And then she ran. She did not care where she was going. Did not care that she couldn’t hear his steps following. She only ran until she found a quiet corner where no one would find her. Then she slumped down and began to weep.