#this type of lettering sucks in traditional art

[prostocupoftea]

The silly from the new russian kinitopet fansong

With lyrics translating to "Everlasting fun" (also a bit of wordplay, БЕСКОНЕЧНОЕ = everlasting, БЕС = devil, evil spirit... also КОНЕЧНОЕ = finite but that isn't forming into a sentence normally, so whatev)

[leschanceux]

headcanon from the tea room!; how does your muse use a public library?

as a precursor to this headcanon; dillon has always been interested in learning things and reading as many books as he can get his hands on, with a particular affinity for non-fiction books. his father had an encyclopedia set in his study ( one of those massive collection-type encyclopedias with multiple books for each letter covering literally everything ) and dillon would spend days and days lying on the floor with one of the books and just read it cover to cover. he's more of an academic reader than a getting lost in a good story reader; for him, reading is all about knowledge and learning, and he gets his pleasure from reading that way, but he fully appreciates the power of a good story and he'll encourage other people to indulge in those too.

- do they just go to browse the in-house catalogue, or do they use it for interlibrary loan & extended research?

dillon ( who does actually work in a bookstore ) loves to read but his focus is more non-fiction, and he finds a different interest or a different rabbit-hole to follow pretty regularly, he'll peruse both the library's in-house catalogue but he also regularly uses the interlibrary loan facilities and research materials to find out as much as he can about different subjects from different places. luckily, his library's interlibrary loan system covers libraries from all over the world - as long as you have a title or a specific subject, the books will be sent from anywhere in the world to that library for you to pick up. these facilities help dillon in his day to day life, but it also helps him to have read a broad range of books on various topics for work, because then he can recommend several titles to customers if they ask about a specific subject.

sometimes this helps when deciding which books to stock in his bookstore; for example, when he went through a plant phase, he borrowed a lot of books on subjects like the medicinal uses of plants, or the language of flowers, or even flower arranging, and they went down quite well with the customers when he ordered a limited amount of stock for his shelves, but other focuses like the history of certain types of machinery are more niche, so they're less likely to appear at the store. it's a balancing act, and dillon can sort of judge by now what would sell better ( unfortunately, even magic bookstores only have a finite amount of storage space, which sucks ).

- do they take children to events, such as story times or guided crafts? how about teenagers? do they encourage their children to keep going & using resources after they're "graduated" out of story time? are there other support structures in place for children, such a literacy programs?

dillon doesn't have children of his own, but he does have a couple of niblings ( the children of his siblings; his nieces and nephews ) and he definitely takes them to the library when he's looking after them and encourages them to join in with events and interacting with the library. their local library has literacy programs like a reading marathon in the schools' summer break, where the kids have to log each book they borrow and read, write a little synopsis and they get a prize at the end depending on how many they've read. his niblings are good readers themselves; they do enjoy the story time activities when they're small, but they also enjoy workshops geared toward teens as they grow, like the poetry writing sessions or that one write your own comic session that the library offers.

- do they themselves go to events, like open art studio nights, computer/digital literacy classes, community DIY/crafting, or the more traditional book clubs?

dillon's more likely to host a bookclub at the store than attend one at the library. he's been to a couple of events at his local library when there've been things that play into his interests, like a night where they hosted authors from various cultures who'd written books around the same subject, but on the whole, he's not really that kind of person --- though he does keep an event schedule for the library up on the store's noticeboard for his customers, just in case they're interested in such events.

- are they the sort to stay in the library & read their mini hoard, or do they prefer to check out things to take home for a time? what sort of things do they check out (books, DVDs, manga, ebooks, audiobooks vs power tools, fishing rods, museum passes, mobile hotspots, & seeds to be planted?) (yes you can check all of these things out depending on the library)

dillon definitely prefers to take his hoard home with him, just so he can take his time with the materials he borrows and get the most out of them. he also has a favourite reading corner at home with a cosy chair and a lamp that's angled just right and the facilities to make a drink or snack while he reads, so he definitely prefers to go home to read through the pile of books he comes away with.

as for the things he checks out, they're mostly books, but he does also like to borrow audiobooks to listen to while he does the store's stock-check or some cleaning, and he'd definitely borrow museum passes or ingredients ( like seeds ) for potions or magical rituals if his personal stash is running short.

- how do they feel about "human libraries" - programs where you can sit with a human "book" & learn about different cultures, backgrounds, & life experiences? what sort of human would they "take out on loan" & why?

dillon absolutely adores human libraries. as someone who regularly comes into contact with people of different cultures and species, and one whose life has been dedicated to learning so much about as much as he can possibly learn about, he'd spend absolutely ages with those people who are willing to be "loaned" out to tell their stories to other people. he'd spend a couple of days thinking of questions to ask them first, then go along and sit with them and just listen to everything they're willing to tell him.

he'll do his research if he knows the person he'd like to "loan" out in advance, but if he doesn't know what culture they come from, he has a set of more general questions about cultural practices or observations. it's easier when he knows in advance who he'll be meeting, of course, but not knowing is not something that would stop him from utilising such a wonderful resource.

- does their library host D&D events? if so, do they partake or socialize, or do they skip that night in favor of other community events?

dillon already lives in a magical society so they don't have d&d specifically, but they do have something similar that involves creatures like dragons or different bird kingdoms than species like fae or warlocks ( because that's who lives in his society ).

he does attend these nights at the library, but not regularly because that's creating a ficticious storyline and he's not really into that sort of thing. but the concept of it definitely intrigues him and it'd give him the opportunity to create a character that maybe utilises some of the knowledge he's gotten from books, like the plant phase.

- does their library have a mobile outreach service? if so, have their used it themselves or partnered with it for work & community events?

yes, dillon's local library has a mobile outreach service; they actually do book deliveries for people who are stuck in their homes for various reasons ( temporary or otherwise! ) and for schools to make sure that everybody in their community has some kind of access to the library services. and yes, dillon partners with them - he'll take in library books from people to be returned, if they can't make it themselves for whatever reason; he partners with the library to bring some of their events into the store if the times at the library itself is inconvenient for a certain amount of people ( so if 20 people said that they couldn't attend a class on how to start a novel, he'd contact the library and arrange for a repeat of the workshop at a later time for those people, if the library are willing and able to do that! ). he knows the library staff very well at this point, and to be able to join in on spreading a love of books is an amazing feeling.

[f1nalboys]

i’m glad you have suck lovely followers/anons that make you happy!i feel that all writers/creators of art need to know what that we care about them even more than the work and they matter! i was going to request some plain old headcanons about dating (maybe with someone who got off the plane too with, like a mutual friend that he always thought was cute of something?) or nsfw? whatever sounds the most fun to write too you! and don’t stress about getting this done asap, you have a life too! hope you enjoy writing whether one of these you choose! (also my anon specialty is writing incorrect quotes for pieces i request, so keep an eye out for those whenever you finish!)❤️❤️

GOSH ALEX ANON I AM SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME THIS LONG :( I recently rewatched FD and fell back in love with alex <3 I forgot how much I loved him and Ian from FD3 omg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this and I really hope you love it :)

WORD COUNT: 827

WARNINGS: nsfw under the cut, gn reader

Ah, Alex my beloved

Not even gonna lie, I rewatched the movie because of this request and I forgot how much I loved it

Anyways, onto some headcanons!

This is going to be a weird non-canon type thing? Like the plane accident happened, he saw and the people who left the plane did, but there’s no ‘death is coming for us’ aftermath

Okay lets go

I can see Alex getting crushes super easily

Like he could see someone and go ‘okay I’m going to end up with them.’

But talking to said crush is a different story

He is kinda shy, especially if Todd isn’t with him, so I don’t seen him automatically going up to someone he finds attractive and talking with them

Now, if you come up to him??? You’ve caught him off guard and now he’s stuttering

“Oh! Hey, hi, what's up? How're you? I’m good, you? I already asked that, didn't I.”

That type of shit

Very cute in my opinion because he’d get all bright red and be rubbing the back of his neck because he’s just so damn nervous

The longer the conversation, the more relaxed he’d get and eventually he’d ask you on a date

He seems to be the type to want a more,,,, traditional first date? If that makes sense? Like he wants to do a dinner and a movie, maybe take a walk in the park and end the night by giving you a goodnight kiss on your cheek

After that he is hooked and he’s not leaving you alone (well, as long as you don’t tell him to fuck off)

Every time he talks about you, whether you’re around him or not, he gets this big goofy smile on his face

He gets made of SO much but he doesn’t care

His love language is definitely words of affirmations and physical touch

Constant compliments, says ‘i love you’ pretty early on and then everyday after, talks to you about his day and wants you to tell him about yours, and he really listens to you

Like, hangs on to your every word kind of listens

And god does he touch you! Always holds your hand, rests his head on your shoulder, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, plays with your hair.

When he’s touching you he’s definitely more relaxed and able to focus more than if he wasn’t able to

Now your first time with him??? Very important to him

He builds the night up in his head a lot and will plan it out to the letter so he may freak out if something happens that he didn’t plan for

He’d have candles lit, relaxing music playing in the background, that kind of stuff

GOD HE IS SO ROMANTIC DURING IT TOO

Now, the first time is probably not going to be the best for you LMAO he’s a virgin and it’ll be his first time. His only experience with sex is porn mags and talking with Carter which… I won’t even get into it lol

But if you talk him through it, he’s a fast learner, just saying

He’ll lay you on your back and kiss you, real soft too, and his hands gonna trail down your chest to your jeans

And his forehead is gonna rest just above yours so he can watch your face when his hand slips in your underwear

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“God, you sound amazing,”

Very into praise, I don’t see him wanting to degrade anyone but maybe the longer you two are together the more willing he’d be to try it

He’s cumming early idc, the minute your mouth is on his cock he’s goneeeeee

Get’s all embarrassed and is literally close to tears because shit thats the worst thing he could do

But just tell him it’s okay and keep going, maybe have him go down on you, and he’ll be ready to go in just a bit

Sex with Alex is very intimate and sensual, lots of kisses and praises and pet names

It’s also kind of awkward the first few times but like,,, a loving and cute awkward

That honeymoon phase lasts a very long time

His affinity for touching you gets more perverted the longer you’re together because he can’t help himself

Won’t do anything TOO out there, won't go down on you or shove his tongue down your throat in public but he’ll absolutely grab your ass and whisper filthy shit in your ear

Speaking of, this man lovessss dirty talk especially if you’re giving it to him

Tell him about how you can’t wait to choke around him, how you love when he fucks you because he fills you just right and you’ll have him hooked even more than you thought would be possible

Basically he is the perfect person to date idc <3333333

Y’all don’t even know what I’d do to kiss him gently in the rain :,(

[clownattack]

Castor - character bio

I’ve been struggling with getting a bio out for Cas for waaaaay too long now, but i feel pretty ok with how it looks currently - i'm going to repost it on my art blog with some drawings of Cas and Hjalle in the future (hopefully). If you want to skip most of the nonsense and just get a feel for her personality, the section under the bio paragraphs is FULL OF POINTS.

links to drawn refs here and here

Longpost under the cut

✦ Early life in Hjalle:

Being born into the noble family Aran, Castor’s early life consisted mostly of being pampered by the attendants and strict education. Cas was a rowdy kid, and with time, lack of affection and validation from her family served to amplify the trait - she went from occasionally disobedient to full-on antagonistic towards her parents, and the nobility as a whole. She began to sneak out; spending her time outside of the Fort, spying on the guards and trying to bribe knights into taking her on as a page.

When Cas turned nine a sibling came into the picture, and she made it her duty to assure Aster’s upbringing would be better than hers. She poured everything she had into Aster, but soon developed a brash and overbearing streak, unyielding in her focus to teach the meek little sister to stand her ground. Aster became torn between Cas and the parents, who in all fairness, treated her much better than their firstborn. This would remain the case until Castor’s dragon-induced injuries.

In her late teens, Cas was seldom seen in the fort - to everyone's great relief. Her mood was always sour, she gave up on her studies and only seemed to care about Aster and joining the hunting parties. Her parents reached their limit when Castor announced she would not become one of the renowned judges of House Aran - this led to an explosive argument, which concluded with Castor storming out. For the following two years, she lived and worked with rangers tasked with protecting and providing for the town.

It was in those years that Cas acquired her battle prowess and scars, the most prominent being a gift from an especially large and angry dragon. A single swipe of its tail tore Castor’s chest and forearm open, forcing the hunting party to rush her to the fort in (what the hunters expected to be) a futile attempt to get her family to provide medical help for their dying kin. The reception was cold indeed, and if it weren’t for Aster’s hysterics and outrage over her family’s indifference, Cas would have not survived the grievous wounds. The upside to this event was a new high tale to impress people with, and strengthening the bond between two sisters. The downside - Castor was now under her parent’s thumb. They made her accept the position of inquisitor; to make up for the hassle she caused them. Taking up the mantle turned Castor’s world upside down - not only would she have to work in close proximity to her father, but her dreams of being knighted were shattered, as inquisitorial duties stand in stark opposition to virtues of knighthood. As Inquisitor she was tasked with investigating and interrogating for the court - the latter, as Aran tradition had it, was extraordinarily bloody.

 ✦ Vesuvia:

Almost as soon as she arrived, the city sparked something in Cas. This was unexpected to say the least; she was certain the years of gruesome work as inquisitor numbed her to simple joys of life. The sights and sounds of Vesuvia however, made her eager to explore and see how everything ticked - and the more she saw the more she wished to remain in the city. After attending the Masquerade and becoming acquainted with Asra, Cas was prepared to do anything to stay - even if it meant sucking up to the Buffoon count and begging for a job. Lucio proved to be anything but opposed - he’d heard of the “bloody good shows” (pun intended) Castor was infamous for, and was eager to take her off her parents hands. This led to working parallel to the count and his court, but also enabled Cas to dabble in magic under Asra’s tutelage.

This slight betterment of Cas’ situation would not last long however, as The Red Plague took complete hold of the city mere months after she took up her residence in Vesuvia. After perishing, and being brought back by Asra, she very slowly regains certain memories and traits - her sister, love of astronomy, sword skills. She sneaks out, snoops, and is a handful overall; but Asra is happy to see Castor’s “new” self free of bitterness and pain.

After this point, the “game events” take place. I like to imagine Castor braving an amalgam of Nadia and Portia routes, with a fistful (or multiple) of courtier drama. Castor is tasked with an investigation, slowly  but surely unravelling how deep the corruption runs in Vesuvia, and how much of it can be attributed to the courtiers. The conclusion of her story focuses on first facing off against the court, then the Justice Arcana.

  ✦ Physical appearance

Light olive skin, she picks up a slight tan in Vesuvia.

Dark gray eyes, striking marbling on the iris.

Long girl - 176 cm tall, loves being the “tall friend” (and manhandling people close to her). Being taller than her is taken as an indirect challenge.

She has a rectangular body type, could be described as a “runner’s body”.

Prominent scarring across right forearm and torso, missing right breast.

Tastefully disheveled. Her hair has a constantly windswept quality, and the gray streaks seem to be especially unruly.

Inherited the “Aran silver” (early graying), she tries to ignore it. “The more you hide it, the more it shows”.

Secretly really bothered by the many similarities to her father. Avoids looking at herself too much, and whenever she does it feels like he’s looking back at her, judging.

Only ever smoothes herself over before important court meetings and social events. She doesn't know how makeup works, so before any party she asks Asra to sort her out. Cas looking prim is both a treat and a source of friendly jabs.

✦ Character traits

Power walking by default. This can be somewhat intimidating, and she won’t stop if someone is in her way - just put them to the side and continue.

Puts up a really convincing pretence of formality and refinement.

In actuality she finds this facade tiresome, and just wants to talk fast about battle/hunting feats or astronomy. Maybe show off her pyromancy.

Loves socializing, it recharges her batteries.

Dilligent worker.

Tends to overwork herself and neglect her relationships.

Often scatter minded and wanting to do too many things at one time.

Doesn’t appreciate people instigating physical contact or getting up in her face. She needs to prepare herself for it, or be the initiator.

Stubborn as a mule. Never knows when to stop pressing people.

Extremely callous at times.

Annoyingly overbearing

Most of this springs from a place of fear - things had a habit of getting worse whenever her family imposed decisions onto her. In her mind, if she’s the one holding the reins, everything will be better. And if something does fail - she will be the only one to blame.

Starting arguments comes much too easily to her, but she’s just as quick to introspect, and seek out the person she argued with to apologize and approach the issue in an appropriate manner.

Forgives easily

Eternally scoffing at astrology. She knows shes being bigoted, but at this point its almost like an inside joke between her and Asra. “Astrology? It's baby stuff. PSEUDOSCIENCE!” (she cries as she worries over her afternoon tarot reading and preparing pretty horoscopes for the Shop...)

A huge hypocrite at times. “Do as I say, not as I do” could easily be her motto.

Both the upright and reversed Knight of Swords card sums her character up perfectly.

✦ Occupation & Residency

Vesuvia:

Beginning of her story follows the game canon almost to a T - Cas lives with Asra in the Shop, and works there. It bores her to death, and she plays tricks on every customer just to entertain herself.

After being officially hired by Nadia as the Palace Magician, Castor moves out of the shop and purchases a modest house in Goldgrave, much below the value of what Nadia offered her, and what she could afford. It’s convenient and that’s what matters to Cas. She continues supplying the shop diligently, and takes over whenever Asra runs off.

Nadia insisted on Castor having an office in the palace. It grew on her with time, and after The Devil is dealt with it becomes her little “hub”.

Hjalle:

Cas lived with her family in the castle site until 17 years old.

After denying her parents their plans for her future as a judge, she hunkered down in a hunting lodge outside of the town, and spent almost two years living that way - she still thinks of these two years as the most joyous time in her life.

The only thing she ever used her family’s wealth for was commissioning the construction of an extravagant observatory. Reminiscent of a gothic fortress, the stark exterior is contrasted with insides filled with artwork and art-nouveau ornaments. The central chamber is a vast library with a powerful telescope in its apse - it is a sight that could take the breath of the most haughty of nobles.

There’s a tiny living space below the main chamber, furnished sparingly, but with a lovely fireplace (in Hjalle, its a necessity). It’s where Cas stays after becoming the inquisitor/whenever she visits after the in-game events.

✦ Trivia

Cas is 23 years old when she first arrives to Vesuvia - 28 at the time of The Devil’s downfall.

She freed Merlin from a merchant’s cage in the Red Market, during one of her outings in the three year interlude after her death - Asra fumes after they find out she snuck out to the market - yet is amazed that Cas found a familiar.

Cas regained her first memories via touching objects linked to her past life - a letter from Aster, articles of clothing, a sword...

This self re-discovering takes a turn for the worse when Cas finally finds a large, ornate knife - the one she inherited after becoming inquisitor. The memories it resurfaces are a staggering blow to Castor, completely derailing the beliefs she had about her own person. She thought of herself as a paragon, and remembering the torture she inflicted upon others, the lives taken in the name of “justice” made her relapse into bitterness and disenchantment. She deals with those feelings as her investigation into the courtiers progresses.

Predominantly uses pyromancy, other types of magic are strictly used for her work at the palace, and rather sparingly.

Could be best described as a battlemage - enjoys being in melee range and assaulting her quarry with both sword and fire; the latter being used more as a way to distract or stagger the enemy than actually harm. There's no fun in just burning them up!

Doesn’t cook for herself, although she has a natural knack for it - will only cook for guests and short people.

Her dislike of Lucio clashes with gratitude for employing her when she first arrived to Vesuvia - he was the knife which cut Cas off from her parents, and it’s something she could never forget.

Demiromatic/sexual.

She was offered to be knighted by Nadia after defeating The Devil. Cas declined - It’s much more than a title to her, and accepting seemed like mockery (considering her past as inquisitor).

Short fuse, she learns to better control herself while working in the palace. But if someone really pushes her the nearby candles miiiight get a bit out of control. Or she’ll just throttle them.

Hates her full name - Castor is such a mouthful. Sounds stuck up too...

[piermanwalter]

Thoughts on Jewellery Engineering and Rapper Bling

Following the rightful loss of status diamonds are having in the eyes of the general public, as the inhumane conditions of diamond mining are made known and repeated economic hell situations are making it impossible for regular people to afford diamonds, many jewellery companies are trying to market diamonds and design new manufacturing techniques for everyday wear to make rich people buy them more. 

So far I think their attempts are kind of pathetic, especially since there already exists a type of diamond jewellery optimised for everyday wear.

Let’s compare the Chopard Precious Lace commercial jewellery collection to Megan Thee Stallion’s custom commissioned pieces from Elliot Elliante.

On their site, Chopard describes their Precious Lace line as:

“Thanks to the range of light-as-air jewelry featured in the Precious Lace collection, Chopard is inventing a new art of living in which the preciousness of diamonds becomes wearable for every day and every occasion.”

Here is a necklace and rings from the Precious Lace collection (images from benoit.repellin on Instagram and Chopard site):

Here is Megan Thee Stallion wearing her Hot Girl and Stalli diamond chains and FUCK YOU ring set by Elliot Elliante (image from Megan’s Southside Forever Freestyle video on YouTube and theestallion on Instagram):

I think these items serve as good comparison because they both rely on the pavé technique of many little stones set together to achieve their signature look, but further examination shows that Chopard’s designs objectively suck at their advertised goal of being for everyday wear, while Elliot Elliante’s designs are better made for withstanding daily wear and tear despite not being advertised for that and also use much more sophisticated manufacturing techniques despite their intentional hood ratchet image.

While the Chopard necklace and ring achieve color contrast in a technically easier way by using blue and pink tourmalines that are not cut differently from the other stones except for the giant tourmaline in the center and the tiny pavé border accent diamonds, the Hot Girl chain contrasts the Hot Girl lettering and flame centers in flat baguette cut diamonds, as do the FUCK YOU lettering in the FUCK YOU rings, outlined in regular round pavé diamonds which have more faces and thus sparkle more brightly. 

The Chopard necklace achieves organic flowing shapes in a technically easier way by using large pear-shaped stones, and constructing the necklace out of many small flat sections dependent on the shapes of the stones. The pendant and links of Hot Girl chain were cast into flame shapes, attached, then completely covered in pavé. In pavé, many tiny prongs are soldered closely together to hold many diamonds at once, so imagine the labor hours and fine motor work to cover the entire thing, not just on flat surfaces, but on the curves and points as well. And you can’t set all the chain links with stones and link them together later. You need to link the chain first, and then set it around each connected link, otherwise you’ll ruin your work, bending the links and making the stones fall out.

I think a majority of the value of the Chopard pieces come from the sheer weight of the stones themselves, and while the Elliante pieces are also very weighty, more of their value comes from workmanship.

Zooming in, we see how lacelike the Chopard necklace is. In the Instagram video, the stones connected with a single wire dangle and move. If they fully turned the Chopard necklace around, we would see how insubstantial the backings are, which is necessary given how lightness is a core design principle of this line.

But remember this line was designed and marketed for everyday wear. What can you do in this necklace? The beautiful dangly airy pieces will break off. If you look closely, you can see the big pear-shaped diamonds and little pear shaped tourmalines are only set with three prongs each. If you need to design your lifestyle around wearing a necklace, you can’t really call it suited for everyday wear.

Meanwhile Megan dances and goes to parties in her jewellery and shows us how sturdy the back of her Hot Girl pendant is:

Another interesting thing is how Chopard solely markets this line towards women, while flex jewellery is just as often worn by male rappers and other hype beasts.

Also interesting: The Chopard site only has prices appear when mousing over pictures, while on the Elliante site, the prices are always visible.

Ultimately, I think traditional luxury designers like Chopard are trying to have their cake and eat it too, by advertising their jewellery as fit for everyday wear, while still purposefully distancing themselves from actually practical worn-everyday “hardcore” “urban” “low class” jewellery styles by promoting a “delicate” “hyperfeminine” “upper class” style, so much that they would rather produce dangerous poorly-manufactured jewellery than be even remotely associated with rapper bling. 

I don’t know how to feel about this, since people shouldn’t waste money and hurt themselves by breaking delicate jewellery from wearing it too much, but on the other hand, the rock-solid blinged-out look originates from African American hip hop culture, and is so emblematic of this culture that even giant jewellery companies still haven’t appropriated it. 

I’m sure the only way haute couture will ever deign to use these manufacturing techniques is by erasing the history and hard work of those like Elliot Elliante who invented and pioneered them. I guess in the meantime, Chopard wearers will just have to deal with losing 30k stones and getting stabbed by bent prongs from their intentionally delicate weirdly-marketed “daily wear” jewellery.

[ducktastic]

2020 Gameological Awards

Over on the Gameological Discord, we have an annual tradition of writing up our games of the year not as a ranked list but rather as answers to a series of prompts. Here are my personal choices for the year that was 2020.

Favorite Game of the Year

I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into Paradise Killer. I knew that I liked the vaporwave resort aesthetic from the game’s trailer and figured I was in for a Danganronpa-style murder mystery visual novel with an open-ended murder mystery at its core. Those assumptions were… half-right? The game definitely plays out like the exploration bits of Danganronpa set on the island from Myst but with far simpler puzzles. What I didn’t expect was to fall so deeply in love with the environment—its nooks and crannies, its millennia of lore, its brutalist overlap of idol worship, consumerism, and mass slaughter. It makes sense that the world of Paradise Killer is its strongest feature, since the cast of NPCs don’t really move around, leaving you alone with the world for the overwhelming majority of your experience as you bounce back and forth between digging around for clues and interrogating potential witnesses. And despite what the promo materials indicated, there IS a definitive solution to the crimes you’re brought in to investigate, the game just lets you make judgment based on whatever evidence you have at the time you’re ready to call it a day, so if you’re missing crucial evidence you might just make a compelling enough case for the wrong person and condemn them to eternal nonexistence. Am I happy with the truth at the end of the day? No, and neither is anybody else I’ve spoken to who completed the game, but we all were also completely enthralled the entire time and our dissatisfaction has less to do with the game and more to do with the ugly reality of humanity. I’ve always been of the mindset that “spoilers” are absolute garbage and that a story should be just as good whether you know the twist or not and any story that relies on surprising the audience with an unexpected reveal is not actually that good a story, but Paradise Killer is a game about piecing together your own version of events so I feel that it’s vital to the gameplay experience that people go in knowing as little as possible and gush all about it afterwards. Just trust me, if the game looks even remotely intriguing to you, go for it. I’ve had just as much fun talking about the game after I finished it with friends just getting started as I did actually solving its mysteries myself.

Best Single Player Game

I honestly missed out on the buzz for In Other Waters at launch, so I’m happy I had friends online talking it up as Black Friday sales were coming along. The minimal aesthetic of his underwater exploration game allows the focus to shift more naturally to the game’s stellar writing as a lone scientist goes off in search of her mentor and the secrets they were hiding on an alien world. It only took a few hours for me to become completely absorbed in this narrative and keep pushing forward into increasingly dangerous waters. In Other Waters might just be the best sci-fi story I experienced all year and I’d highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys sci-fi novels, regardless of their experience with video games.

Best Multiplayer Game

Look, we all know this year sucked. 2020 will absolutely be chronicled in history books as a fascinating and deeply depressing time in modern history where we all stayed inside by ourselves and missed our friends and family. It was lonely and it was bleak. Which is why it made my heart glow so much more warmly every time I got a letter from an honest-to-goodness real-life friend in Animal Crossing New Horizons. Knowing that they were playing the same game I was and hearing about their experiences and sending each other wacky hats or furniture, it lightened the days and made us feel that little bit more connected. Sure, when the game first launched we would actually take the time to visit one another’s islands, hang out, chat in real-time, and exchange gifts, but we all eventually got busy with Zoom calls, sourdough starters, and watching Birds of Prey twenty-two times. Still, sending letters was enough. It was and still is a touching little way to show that we’re here for one another, if not at the exact same time.

Favorite Ongoing Game

Zach Gage is one of my favorite game designers right now, and when I heard he was releasing a game called Good Sudoku I was sold sight unseen. The game as released was… fine. It’s sudoku and it’s pleasant, but it was also buggy and overheated my phone in a way I hadn’t seen since Ridiculous Fishing (also by Zach Gage) seven years ago. Thankfully, the most glaring bugs have been fixed and I can now enjoy popping in every day for some quick logic puzzle goodness. Daily ranked leaderboards keep me coming back again and again, the steady ramp of difficulty in the arcade and eternal modes means I can always chase the next dopamine rush of solving increasingly complex puzzles. It’s not a traditional “ongoing” game the way, say, Fortnite and Destiny are, but I’m happy to come back every day for sudoku goodness.

Didn't Click For Me

With Fortnite progressively losing me over the course of 2020, finalizing with my wholesale “never again” stance after Epic boss Tim Sweeney compared Fortnite demanding more money from Apple to the American Civil Rights movement (no, absolutely not), I dipped my toe into a number of new “battle pass”-style online arena types of games, and while Genshin Impact eventually got its hooks into me, Spellbreak absolutely did not. With graphics straight out of The Dragon Prince and the promise of a wide variety of magic combat skills to make your character your own, the game seemed awfully tempting, but my first few experiences were aimless and joyless, with no moment of clarity to make me understand why I should keep coming back. Maybe they’ll finesse the game some more in 2021, or a bunch of my friends will get hooked and lure me back, but for now I am a-okay deleting this waste of space on my Switch and PC.

"Oh Yeah, I Did Play That Didn't I?"

I remember being really excited for Murder By Numbers. Ace Attorney-style crime scene investigation visual novel with Picross puzzles for the evidence, art by the creators of Hatoful Boyfriend, and music by the composer of Ace Attorney itself?! Sounds like a dream come true. But the pixel-hunt nature of the crime scene investigations was more frustrating than fun, the picross puzzles were not particularly great, and the game came out literally a week before the entire world went into lockdown which makes it feel more like seven years ago than just earlier this year. I remember being marginally charmed by the game once it was in my hands, but as soon as my mind shifted to long-term self care, Murder By Numbers went from hot topic to cold case.

Most Unexpected Joy

I was looking forward to Fuser all year. As a dyed-in-the-wool DropMix stan, the prospect of a spiritual sequel to DropMix on all major digital platforms without any of the analogue components was tremendously exciting, and I knew I’d have a lot of fun making mixes by myself and posting them online for the world to hear. What I didn’t expect, however, was the online co-op mode to be such a blast! Up to four players take turns making 32 bars of mashups, starting with whatever the player before handed them and adding their own fingerprints on top. It sounds like it should just be a mess of cacophony, but every session I’ve played so far has been just the best dance party I’ve had all year, and everyone not currently in control of the decks (including an audience of spectators) can make special requests for what the DJ should spin and tap along with the beat to great super-sized emoji to show how much they’re enjoying the mix. Literally the only times my Apple Watch has ever warned me of my heightened heart rate have been the times I was positively bouncing in place rocking out to co-op freestyle play in Fuser.

Best Music

Only one video game this year had tunes that were so bumpable they were upgraded to my general “2020 jams” playlist alongside Jeff Rosenstock, Run the Jewels, and Phoebe Bridgers, and that game was Paradise Killer. 70% lo-fi chill beats to study/interrogate demons to, 20% gothic atmospheric bangers, 10% high-energy pop jazz, this soundtrack was just an absolute joy to swim around in both in and out of gameplay.

Favorite Game Encounter

It’s wild that in a landscape where games let me live out my wildest fantasies, the single moment that lit me up in a way that stood out to me more than any other was serving Neil the right drink in Coffee Talk. Over the course of the game, you serve a variety of hot drinks to humans, werewolves, vampires, orcs, and more, all while chatting with your customers and learning more about their lives and relationships. The most mysterious customer, though, is an alien life form who adopts the name Neil. They do not know what they want to drink and claim it doesn’t make a difference because they cannot taste it. Everybody else wants *something*. Neil is just ordering for the sake of fitting in and exploring the Earth experience. It’s only in the second playthrough that attentive baristas will figure out what to serve Neil, unlocking the “true” ending in the process. Seeing the typically stoic Neil actually emote when they tasted their special order drink? What an absolute treat that was.

Best Free DLC of the Year

It’s still only a couple of days old at the time I’m writing this, but Marvel’s Avengers just added Kate Bishop, aka Hawkeye, and THANK GOODNESS. Almost every character in the game at launch just smashed the endless waves of robot baddies with their fists and that looks exhausting and uncomfortable. Hawkeye (the game calls her Kate Bishop, but come on, she’s been Hawkeye in the comics for over 14 years, let’s show her some respect) uses A SWORD. FINALLY! Aside from that, I’m just having a blast shooting arrows all over the place. She and Ms Marvel are the most likable characters in the game so far, so I hope they keep adding more of the Young Avengers and Champions to the game, and if the recently announced slate of Marvel movies and tv shows are any indication (with America Chavez, Cassie Lang, and Riri Williams all coming soon to the MCU), that seems to be what Marvel is pushing for across all media

Most Accessible Game

Nintendo is, first and foremost, a toy company. They got their start in toys and cards long before video games was a thing, and they still do more tests to ensure their video game hardware is childproof than anybody else in the industry (remember how they made Switch cartridges “taste bad” so kids wouldn’t eat them?). This year, Nintendo got to rekindle some of their throwback, simplistic, toys-and-cards energy with Clubhouse Games: 51 Worldwide Classics, a Switch collection of timeless family-friendly games like Chess, Mancala, and Backgammon, along with “toy” versions of sports like baseball, boxing, and tennis for a virtual parlor room of pleasant time-wasters. The games were all presented with charming li’l explainers from anthropomorphic board game figurines, and the ability to play quick sessions of Spider Solitaire on the touch screen while I binged The Queen’s Gambit on Netflix made Clubhouse Games one of my most-played titles of the year. Plus, local play during socially-distant friend hangs was an excellent way to make us feel like we were much closer than we were physically allowed to be as friends knocked each other’s block off in the “toy boxing” version of Rock’em Sock’em Robots.

"Waiting for Game-dot"

I get that everyone loves Disco Elysium. I saw it on everyone’s year-end lists last year. I finally bought it with an Epic Games Store coupon this year. This year was a long enough slog of depressing post-apocalyptic drudgery, I didn’t want to explore a whole nother one in my leisure time. I’ll get to it… someday.

Game That Made Me Think

Holovista was an iPhone game I played over the course of two or three days based on the recommendation of some trusted colleagues on Twitter and oh my goodness was I glad that I played it. What starts as a chill vaporwave photography game steadily progresses into an exploration of psychological trauma, relationships with friends and family, and the baggage we carry with us from our pasts. In this exceptionally hard year, I badly needed this story about spending time alone with your personal demons and finding your way back to the people who love and support you. Just like with Journey and Gone Home, I walked away from Holovista feeling a rekindled appreciation for the people in my life.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Epigraphs - Rhythm of War (all 5 parts)

My notes are in square brackets.

Part 1 - Fabrial Mechanics

Lecture on fabrial mechanics presented by Navani Kholin to the coalition of monarchs, Urithiru, Jesevan, 1175

First, you must get a spren to approach.

The type of gemstone is relevant; some spren are naturally more intrigued by certain gemstones. In addition, it is essential to calm the spren with something it knows and loves. A good fire for a flamespren, for example, is a must.

Next, let the spren inspect your trap. The gemstone must not be fully infused, but also cannot be fully dun. Experiments have concluded that seventy percent of maximum Stormlight capacity works best.

If you have done your work correctly, the spren will become fascinated by its soon-to-be prison. It will dance around the stone, peek at it, float around it.

The final step in capturing spren is the most tricky, as you must remove the Stormlight from the gemstone. The specific techniques employed by each artifabrian guild are closely guarded secrets, entrusted only to their most senior members.

The easiest method would be to use a larkin - a type of cremling that feasts on Stormlight. That would be wonderful and convenient if the creatures weren’t now almost entirely extinct. The wars in Aimia were in part over these seemingly innocent little creatures.

To draw Stormlight out of a gemstone, I use the Arnist Method. Several large empty gemstones are brought close to the infused one while the spren is inspecting it. Stormlight is slowly absorbed from a small gemstone by a very large gemstone of the same type - and several together can draw the Light out quickly. The method’s limitation is, of course, the fact that you need not merely acquire one gemstone for your fabrial, but several larger ones to withdraw the Stormlight.

Other methods must exist, as proven by the extremely large gemstone fabrials created by the Vriztl Guild out of Thaylenah. If Her Majesty would please repeat my request to the guild, this secret is of vital importance to the war effort.

If the Stormlight in a gemstone is withdrawn quickly enough, a nearby spren can be sucked into the gemstone. This is caused by a similar effect to a pressure differential, created by the sudden withdrawal of Stormlight, though the science of the two phenomena are not identical.

You will be left with a captured spren, to be manipulated as you see fit.

With a captured spren, you may begin designing a proper fabrial. It is a closely guarded secret of artifabrians that spren, when trapped, respond to different types of metals in different ways. A wire housing for the fabrial, called a “cage,” is essential to controlling the device.

The two metals of primary significance are zinc and brass, which allow you to control expression strength. Zinc wires touching the gemstone will cause the spren inside to more strongly manifest, while brass will cause the spren to withdraw and its power to dim.

Remember that a gemstone must be properly infused following the spren’s capture. Drilled holes in the gemstone are ideal for proper use of the cage wires, so long as you don’t crack the structure and risk releasing the spren.

A bronze cage can create a warning fabrial, alerting one to objects or entities nearby. Heliodors are being used for this currently, and there is some good reasoning for this - but other gemstones should be viable.

A pewter cage will cause the spren of your fabrial to express its attribute in force - a flamespren, for example, will create heat. We call these augmenters. They tend to use Stormlight more quickly than other fabrials.

A tin cage will cause the fabrial to diminish nearby attributes. A painrial, for example, can numb pain. [Hey, if they captured a gloomspren - granted, tricky because they’re rare - could this be used to make a antidepressant fabrial for Kaladin?] Note that advanced designs of cages can use both steel and iron as well, changing the fabrial’s polarity depending on which metals are pushed to touch the gemstone.

An iron cage will create an attractor - a fabrial that draws specific elements to itself. A properly create smoke fabrial, for example, can gather the smoke of a fire and hold it close.

New discoveries lead us to believe it is possible to create a repeller fabrial, but we don’t yet know the metal to use to achieve this feat.

One of my pleas is for artifabrians to stop shrouding fabrial techniques with so much mystery. Many decoy metals are used in cages, and wires are often plated to look like a different metal, with the express intent of confusing those who might try to learn the process through personal study. This might enrich the artifabrian, but it impoverishes us all.

Advanced fabrials are created using several different techniques. Conjoined fabrials require a careful division of the gemstone - and the spren inside. If performed correctly, the two halves will continue to behave as a single gemstone. Note that rubies and flamespren are traditional for thus purpose - as they have proven the easiest to divide, and the quickest in response times. Other types of spren do not split as easily, or at all.

All gemstones leak Stormlight at a slow rate - but so long as the crystal structure remains mostly intact, the spren cannot escape. Managing this leakage is important, as many fabrials also lose Stormlight through operation. All of this is tied up in the intricacies of the art. As is understanding one last vital kind of spren: logicspren.

Logicspren react curiously to imprisonment. Unlike other spren, they do not manifest some attribute - you cannot use them to make heat, or warn of nearby danger., or conjoin gemstones. For years, artifabrians considered them useless - indeed, experimenting eith them was uncommon, since logicspren are rare and difficult to capture.

A breakthrough has come in discovering that logicspren will vary the light they radiate based on certain stimuli. For example, if you make the Light leak from the gemstone at a controlled rate, the spren will alternate dimming and brightening in a regular pattern. This has led to fabrial clocks. When the gemstone is tapped with certainmetals, the light will also change state from bright to dim. This is leading to some very interesting and complex mechanisms.

My final point this evening is a discussion of Fused weapons. The Fused use a variety of fabrial devices to fight Radiants. It is obvious from how quickly they’ve fabricated and employed these countermeasures that they have used in the past.

The simplest Fused weapon against us isn’t truly a fabrial, but instead a metal that is extremely light and can withstand the blows of a Shardblade. This metal resists being Soulcast as well; it interferes with a great number of Radian powers. Fortunately, the Fused seem unable to create in in great quantities - for they equip only themselves, and not their average so,diers, with these wonders. [Aluminum]

The Fused have a second metal I find fascinating - a metal that conducts Stormlight. The implications for this in the creation of fabrials are astounding. The Fused use this metal in conjunction with a rudimentary fabrial - a simole gemstone, but without a spren trapped inside. How they pull Stormlight out of a Radiant and into this sphere remains baffling. My scholars think they must be employing an Investiture differential. If a gemstone is full of Stormlight - or, I assume, Voidlight - and that Light is removed quickly, it creates a pressure differential (or a kind of vacuum) in the gemstone. This remains merely a theory.

The world becomes as increasingly dangerous place, and so I come to the crux of my argument. We cannot afford to keep secrets from one another any longer. The Thaylen artifabrians have private techniques relating to how they remove Stormlight from gems and create fabrials around extremely large stones. I beg the coalition and the good people of Thaylenah to acknowledge our collective need. I have taken the first step by opening my research to all scholars. I pray you will see the wisdom in doing the same.

[My Notes:

Zinc: manifest more strongly

Brass: withdraw (manifest less strongly)

Bronze: warning fabrial

Pewter: attribute expressed in force (e.g. flamespren —> heat; fabrial called augmenter)

Tin: diminish attribute nearby (e.g. painrial reduces pain). Use of steel and iron as well can allow fabrial’s polarity to be changed (e.g. make painrial cause pain)

Iron: draws element to itself (e.g. smoke fabrial gathers smoke)]

Part 2 - Harmony’s Letter

Dear Wanderer,

I did recieve your latest communication. Please forgive formality on my part, as we have not met in person. I feel new to this role, despite my years holding it. You will admit to my relative youth, I think.

I have been fascinated to discover how much you’ve accomplished on Scadrial without me noticing your presence. How is it that you hide from Shards so well?

I have reached put to the others as you requested, and have recieved a variety of responses. Muas you indicate, there is a division among the other Shards I would not have anticipated. Endowment at least responded to my overtures, though I have not been able to locate Invention again following our initial contact. Whimsy was not terribly useful, and Mercy worries me. I do think that Valor is reasonable, and suggest you approach her again. It has been too long, in her estimation, since your last conversation.

The deaths of both Devotion and Dominion trouble me greatly, as I had not realized this immense power we held was something that could be broken in such a way. On my world, the power was always gathered and sought a new Vessel.

That said, the most worrying thing I discovered in this was the wound upon the Spiritual Realm where Ambition, Mercy, and Odium clashed - and Ambition was destroyed. The effects on the planet Threnody have been...disturbing.

Other Shards I cannot identify, and are hidden to me. I fear that their influence encroaches upon my world, yet I am locked i to a strange inability because of the opposed powers I hold. I have begun searching for a pathway out of this conundrum by seeking the ideal person to act on my behalf. Someone who embodies both Preservation and Ruin. A...sword, you might say, who can both protect and kill.

But this does not get to the core of your letter. I have encouraged those who would speak to me to heed your warnings, but all seem content to ignore Odium for the time being. In their opinion, he is no threat as long as he remains confined in the Rosharan system. I do not share their attitude. If you can, as you suppose, maintain Odium’s prison for now, it would give us the necessary time to plan. This is a threat beyond the capacity of one Shard to face.

Unfortunately, as proven by my own situation, the combination of Shards is not always a path to greater power. We must assume that Odium has realized this, and is seeking a singular, terrible goal: the destruction - and somehow Splintering or otherwise making impotent - of all Shards other than him. To combine powers would change and distort who Odium is. So instead of absorbing others, he destroys them. Since we are all essentially infinite, he needs no more power. Destroying and Splintering the other Shards would leave Odium as the sole god, unchanged and uncorrupted by other influences.

You say that the power itself must be treated as separate in our minds from the Vessel who controls it. I find this difficult to do on an intrinsic level, as although I am neither Ruin nor Preservation, they make up me. Regardless, I will try to do as you suggest. However, you seem more afraid of the Vessel. I warn you that this is a flaw in your understanding. You have not felt what I have. You have not known what I have. You rejected that chance - and wisely, I think. However, though you think not as a mortal, you are their kin. The power of Odium’s Shard is more dangerous than the mind behind it. Particularly since any Investiture seems to gain a will of its own when not controlled. My instincts say that the power of Odium is not being controlled well. The Vessel will be adapted to the power’s will. And after this long, if Odium is still seeking to destroy, then it is because of the power.

Of course, I admit this is a small quibble. A difference of semantics more than anything. In truth, it would be a combination of a Vessel’s craftiness and the power’s Intent that we should fear most. [This is terrifying, given the ending of ROW.]

Regardless, please make yourself known to me when you travel my lands. It is distressing that you think you need to move in the shadows.

Part 3 - Excerpts from Rhythm of War

[By Navani and Raboniel. The entries vary in terms of which of them writes the main text and which writes the undertext.]

Page 1: I find this format most comfortable, as it is how I’ve collaborated in the past. I have never done it this way, and with this kind of partner. I approach this project with an equal mixture of trepidation and hope. And I know not which should rule. Undertext: I approach this project with inspiration renewed; the answers are all that should matter.

Page 3: In my fevered state, I worry I’m unable to focus on what is important. Undertext: When in such a state, detachment is enviable. I have learned that my greatest discoveries come when I abandon lesser connections.

Page 5: This song - this tone, this rhythm - sounds so familiar, in ways I cannot explain or express. Undertext: I am led to wonder, from experiences such as this, if we have been wrong. We call humans alien to Roshar, yet they have lived here for thousands of years now. Perhaps it is time to acknowledge that there are no aliens or interlopers. Only cousins.

Page 6: It would have been so easy if Voidlight and Stormlight destroyed one another. Such a simple answer. Undertext: We must not let our desires for a specific result cloud our perceptions. But how can we not, in searching, wish for a specific result? What scientist goes into a project without a hope for what they will find? I find this experience so odd. I work with a scholar from the abcient days, before modern scientific was theory was developed. I keep forgetting all the thousands of years of tradition you completely missed.

Page 10: This point regarding the Rhythm of War’s emotional influence will be of particular interest to El. Undertext: Who is this person? You used no title, so I assume they are not a Fused. Who, then, is El?

Page 13: In other circumstances, I would be fascinated by this sand to the point of abandoning all other rational pursuits. What is it? Where did it come from? Undertext: I am told that it is not the sand itself, but so ething that grows upon it, that exhibits strange properties. One can make more, with proper materials and a seed of the original. The sand originated offworld. It is only one of such amazing wonders that come from other lands - I have recently obtained a chain from the lands of the dead, said to be able to anchor a person through Cognitive anomalies. I fail to see what use it could be to me, as I am unable to leave the Rosharan system. But it is a priceless object nonetheless.

Page 21: As we dig further into this project, I am left questioning the very nature of God. How can a God exist in all things, yet have a substance that can be destroyed? Undertext: I am not convinced any of the gods can be destroyed, so perhaps I misspoke. They can change state however, like a spren - or like the various Lights. That is what we seek.

Page 27: Do not mourn for what has happened. This notebook was a dream we shared, which is itself a beautiful thing. Proof of the truth of my intent, even if the project was ultimately doomed. I leave you now to your own company.

Final page: Opposites. Opposites of sounds. Sound has no opposite. It’s merely overlapped vobration, the same sound, but sound has meaning. This sound does, at least. These sounds. The voices of gods. Voice of Lights. Voice of Lights. If I speak for the Lights, then I must express their desires. If Light is Investiture, and all Investiture is deity, and deity has Intent, then light must have Intent.

Endnotes: Intent matters. Intent is king. You cannot do what I attempt by accident. You must mean it. This seems a much greater law than we’ve ever before understood.

Part 4 - Kelek

Words. I used to be good with words, I used to be good at a lot of things. There was a time when others would approach me for help with a problem. A time when I was decisive. Capable. Even authoritative. Such skills, like my honor itself, are now lost to time. Weathered away, crushed to dust, and scattered to the ends of the cosmere. I am a barren tree of a human being. I am the hollow that was once a mighty peak. So, words. Why words, now? Why do I write?

Jezrien is gone. Despite being all the way out here in Lasting Integrity, I felt him being ripped away. The Oathpact was broken already, but the Connection remained. Each of us can sense the others, to an extent. And with further investigation, I know the truth of what happened to him. It felt like death at first, and I think that is what it ultimately became. The singers first put Jezrien in a gemstone. They think they are clever, discovering they can trap us in those. It only took seven thousand years.

Oh...Father...Seven thousand years. I remember so few of those centuries. I am a blur. A smear on the page. A gaunt stretch of ink, made all the more insubstantial with each passing day. Midius once told me...told me we could use Investiture...to enhance ourbminds, our memories, so we wouldn’t forget so much. Why would I want to remember?

Maybe if I remembered my life, I’d be capable of being confident like I once was. Maybe I’d stop vacillating when even the most simple of decisions is presented to me. Instead I think, if I were to remember my life in detail, I would become even worse. Paralyzed by my terrible actions. I should not like to remember all those I have failed.

Regardless, I write now. Because I know they are coming for me. They got Jezrien. They’ll inevitably claim me, even here in the honorspren stronghold. And so, I’ll die.

Yes, die. If you’re reading this and wondering what went wrong - why my soul evaporated soon after being claimed by the gemstone in your knife - then I name you idiot for playing with powers you only presume to understand. The bond is what keeps us alive. You sever that, and we will slowly decompose into ordinary souls - with no valid Connection to the Physical or Spiritual Realms. Capture one of us with your knives, and you won’t be left with a spren in a jar, follish ones. You’ll be left with a being that eventually fades away into the Beyond. I felt it happen to Jezrien. You think you captured him, but our god is Splintered, our Oathpact severed. He faded over the weeks, and is gone now. Beyond your touch at long last.

I should welcome the same. I do not. I fear you. Nevertheless, I’m writing answers for you here, because something glimmers deep within me. A fragment of a memory of what I once was.

I was there when Ba-Ado-Mishram was captured. I know the truth of the Radiants, the Recreance, and the Nahel spren. I tell you; I write it. You must release the captive Unmade. She will not fade as I will. If you leave her as she is, she will remain imprisoned for eternity. As one who has suffered for so many centuries...as one whom it broke...please find Mishram and release her. Not just for her own good. For the good of all spren.

For I believe that in confining her, we have caused a greater wound to Roshar than any ever realized.

Part 5 - Musings of El

Musings of El, on the first of the Final Ten Days:

I look forward to ruling the humans. I had my title and my rhythms stripped from me for daring insist they should not be killed, but should instead be reconditioned. Repurposed.

Humans are weapons. We singers revere Passion, do we not? How can we throw away such an excellent channeling of it?

I love their art. The way they depict us is divine, all red shades and black lines. We appear demonic and fearsome; they project all fear and terror upon us. To humans, our very visages become symbols. You can find echoes of it even in the art from centuries before this Return.

Watch them struggle. Witness their writhing, their refusal to surrender. Humans cling to the rocks with the vigor of any Rosharan vine. Humans are a poem. A song. For ones so soft, they are somehow strong. For ones so varied, they are somehow intense. For ones so lost, they are somehow determined. For ones so confused, they are somehow brilliant. For ones so tarnished, they are somehow bright. Radiant.

And so I am not at all dissatisfied with recent events. Roshar will be united in its service of the greater war. And I will march proudly at the head of a human legion. They should not be discarded, but helped to their potential. Their final Passions.

Yes, I look forward to ruling the humans. Nearly as much as I look forward to serving you, newest Odium. Who was so recently one of them. You understand. And you are the one I’ve been waiting to worship.

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-Baltic Pokemon teams! (+Updated concept art)

I finally finished this gsoxlaunsisd-

Another picture for @aphbalticweek2020 ! ...Over a month late. Hopefully it will still catch some attention. @_@. I want to submit a fic and was planning to draw the Hetalia Emblem versions of them too, but Augh school just began again and my PC broke and ffffff... I’m posting this from my phone and the Tumblr app sucks.

So here’s my versions of the Baltic trio as Pokémon trainers! It was probably a mistake doing all the coloring in Photoshop...

I had this idea for a while. I only had an idea for a full team for Liet, but I found that I was actually able to come up with full teams. I had this idea since looking at a Japanese video and other Japanese artists who did this concept... And in typical Japanese Hetalia fashion, focused mostly on character quirks and, if there was any reference to the actual nation’s culture, surface level things. So I started forming ideas like this sort of as a response to those. Though there’s someone on Amino who similarly goes through the effort! I’m sure you’ll find them if you search for Hetalia Pokémon teams.

Also, many aren’t to scale, but so many Pokémon are too huge to fit into a team shot at their real in-game size. Also damn you GameFreak for not having releases in smaller languages. I couldn’t make nicknames derived from their local names because there aren’t any, and certain diacritics have to be omitted.

Lithuania

I think I’m getting better at drawing Alt-Liet! But since this is in the Pokémon universe, I also tried drawing him with his canonical hair. I feel his favorite types would be grass, ghost, and bug.

Uzuhuol

Trevenant♂

Type: Ghost/Grass

Ability: Natural Cure

Possible ace Pokémon. From the old Pagan Lithuanian belief that spirits from dead ancestors resided in trees, as well as Lithuania’s connection to forests. One of Tolys’ oldest and most reliable companions. Name is a poetic word for “Oak”, the tree of the most important god in Lithuanian mythology. I feel Trevenant captures how I write Alt-Liet pretty well, and especially what separates him from canon Liet. Though I did debate what his signature Pokémon would be quite a bit.

Moveset:

Forest’s Curse

Phantom Force

Destiny Bond or Hidden Power (Electric)

Wood Hammer

Austeja

Vespiquen♀

Type: Bug/Flying

Ability: Pressure

Based on Lithuania’s long tradition of beekeeping. There is evidence that long ago, in ancient Lithuanian culture, bees were among the most respected of creatures, being referred to as if they were humans. There is probably no greater evidence of this than what she is named after, the goddess of bees. More info can be found here: https://balticmythology.tumblr.com/post/124316160169/baltic-mythology-austėja-austėja-ancient Lithuania also has a longstanding meadmaking tradition, and you can even apparently buy mead in supermarkets there. In fact, in my old concept art, you can see him holding some. Also has been with Tolys since forever, possibly being his first. While I forgot to convey this, is often next to Uzuhuol, being almost inseparable.

Moveset:

Attack Order

Defend Order

Aromatherapy

Dual Wingbeat

Egle

Servine♀

Type: Grass

Ability: Overgrow

Also one of Tolys’ oldest companions. Despite their types being polar opposites, surprisingly close with Gabija. Named after the queen of serpents in Lithuanian folklore (with no ė because the Pokémon naming system doesn’t allow Lithuanian letters), also the word for “spruce”, and readers of my previous stuff involving Baltic myth know that snakes had very important places in Baltic cultures as the animals of the sun goddess. Though Eglė was a water serpent. Because of the queen thing I did consider making her a Serperior, but there were too many big Pokémon in the picture.

Moveset:

Solar Beam

Magical Leaf

Safeguard or Sunny Day

Leaf Blade

Gabija

Rapidash♀

Type: Fire

Ability: Flash Fire

Named after the Lithuanian goddess of the hearth. Though her actual representative animals are cats and roosters, so thinking about it maybe I could have given him a Combusken or Litten, but I decided on Rapidash because I headcanon Alt-Liet has a Žemaitukas pony, plus the imagery of a white horse corresponds to the coat of arms.

Moveset:

Flame Charge

Stomp

Flame Blast

Smart Strike

Cepelinas

Drifblim ♂

Type: Ghost/Flying

Ability: Unburden

Vilnius is one of the few European capital cities where hot air balloons are allowed to fly, with them also apparently being a relatively common sight in other Lithuanian cities like Kaunas, and there are more of them per person in Lithuania than any other country. Apparently, they symbolize freedom there too. His name is Lithuanian for “zeppelin”, which is kind of fitting considering that’s kind of what Drifblim is in the first place, but more importantly that’s also the name of the national food of Lithuania.

Moveset:

Shadow Ball

Phantom Force

Tailwind

Payback

Kvapas

Spritzee♂

Type: Fairy

Ability: Healer

I couldn’t come up with a good name, so uncreative name, blah. Lithuania is the only country with an official perfume scent. Plus, fairy types fit him pretty well too. I guess Alt-Liet wouldn’t be the type to have such “feminine” looking Pokémon, but maybe it isn’t that implausible? Idk, I needed to give him a final Pokémon.

Moveset:

Fairy Wind

Sweet Scent

Charm

Echoed Voice

Augh, make a Stork Pokémon already, GameFreak... It would be perfect for the core Commonwealth trio, it would be a cute symbol of the relationship between Liet and Belarus, and a reminder of him and Poland’s connection, since they would have one too.

Latvia

Unfortunately I drew him in this weird position that didn’t let me put in a lot of bigger Pokémon, so he got a bunch of smaller Pokémon. Pretend some of them are just about to evolve or something. But happy I got to draw him in a hockey shirt like I wanted to last time but forgot. Also he seemed to end up with noodly Pokémon a lot, but that’s half coincidence and half because of the position I drew him in, not intending to draw a full team, and I was thinking I’d just draw Snivy and Ledian.

Oh, and I’ll be omitting moveset s from here due to time. Check the reblogs if you’re interested, I might add some.

Misinausis

Snivy♂

Type: Grass

Was considering making Serperior his signature Pokémon due to him owning a pet grass snake in Alt-talia, but for some reason I kept it a Snivy. I guess because I like the idea of him carrying it in his hood. I might draw him with Serperior if I have the chance to though. But his name is just the old name for “grass snake” (“Brass-ears”), I still can’t come up with a creative name for the poor thing, blah. Much like his Alt-talia counterpart, he usually stays out of his Pokéball and rides around on his head or in his hood if he’s wearing one.

Marite

Ledian♀

Type: Bug/Flying

The national animal of Latvia is the two-spotted ladybug. And that’s adorable. Apparently they have a very beloved part in Latvian pop culture. I was considering using the new Galar ladybug Pokémon, but I didn’t really think that the mad scientist/UFO motif fit. Though Blipbug’s nerdy look might have fit considering Latvia’s very good education rate, as to why one is in reserve.

Carnikava

Elektross♂

Type: Electric

Yeah, this choice might be surprising, but I wanted to include some fish Pokémon; and apparently lampreys are pretty abundant in Latvia, and are also eaten very often, with lamprey even being common in supermarkets (though that does make this kind of morbid lol).

Janis

Phantump♂

Type: Ghost/Grass

Latvia has similar mythology to Lithuania, and I did want to make him a Trevenant, but again, the floaty way I drew Latvia (though I guess he does look like he could be sitting too?). I thought that related characters having one Pokémon from the same evolutionary line was a cool idea. Much like Lithuania, the Ghost/Grass typing fits him very well.

Daugava

Whiscash♀

Type: Water/Ground

I wanted to include some kind of marshy Pokémon due to the Baltic region being abundant in bogs and other wetlands, and I wanted a real Water Pokémon. I found that apparently, the biggest catfish ever fished on record was fished in Latvia, and there is a particular part of the Daugava river in Latvia known for its abundance of catfish, and much like lamprey, catfish are a common food in Latvia.

Priede

Snover♀

Type: Grass/Ice

Forests cover as much as 42% of the country, with timber being one of the most important natural resources in Latvia, if not the most; so I wanted to include a significantly-sized tree Pokémon. I chose Snover, though if I’d had more space and it didn’t clash with the rest I’d make it an Abomasnow. Spruce trees are extremely abundant in Latvia, and big stretches can even be seen along his beautiful coastlines (wanted to included a reference to those too, but Palosand seems too artificial). Snover also grow berries, apparently, symbolizing more of Latvia’s connection to nature. Plus, Riga boasts the oldest Christmas tree in a city square (though Tallinn disputes that, as I wrote in one of my fics, Estonia’s First Christmas). Will be able to Mega Evolve upon becoming an Abomasnow.

Also considered Flapple, as according to one source apples have a significant place in Latvian culture, and according to another, apple trees as a whole do. ...Unfortunately, those were the only pages I could find with this info, so I had no way of verifying it.

Estonia

His Pokémon lineup came easily once I put my mind to it. ...Unfortunately, for some reason, I’m completely blank on names. So deciding to cut my losses, they’re unnamed, sorry. ^^; While Hetalia tends to put more focus on the techy side of Estonia, I based most of these on the abundant wildlife of Estonia’s vast forests, as he actually has the most forest cover out of the Baltics; as in, literally half his land area is forests, having some of the best forest protection policies in the EU. So he’d have caught most of these just taking a walk through his many, many forests and national parks. I’d presume his part of the world and Latvia’s would be Safari Zone central.

Slowking

Type: Water/Psychic

I knew instantly that Estonia would get Slowking. It was the one Pokémon I was planning to draw for him, with maybe the other being Porygon-2. It fits him perfectly; seemingly slow, but highly intelligent. Also, Slowpoke fish for food, and it’s a Water Type; the sea has a major presence in Estonia, from its many islands to coastline, and fish of course are part of the national diet, much like in Latvia. I was considering using the Galar version because Europe, but not only is its design not fully revealed yet, I realized that it might not even have the Water typing, so even if it’s design was revealed I’d probably stick with the original.

Luxray

Type: Electric

I thought that Slowking would be Estonia’s signature Pokémon, but looking more into it, Luxray is a strong, strong contender, if not even more of a perfect fit. In fact, it fits perfectly in like three ways. Estonia is said to have the highest density of Lynx in Europe. But on top of that, Luxray looks an awful lot like a lion, and I was pretty sure it was one when I was a kid.... Estonia’s coat of arms has three, blue, heraldic lions emblazoned very prominently on it... on a gold background to boot. And on top of that, Estonia has a law where all people have to wear a reflective accessory when out at night (I drew him with one when I last drew him, if you recall), and I’m pretty sure that’s what the yellow patches on Luxray act as... Seriously, this Pokémon was made for him.

Porygon-2

Type: Normal

We all know about Estonia and Skype and it’s internet infrastructure. In fact, I almost named it “Skype” (you’ll see an artifact of that here). A representative of the technical side of him, since I put more weight on his natural side here. I made it Porygon-2 instead of Z because those poor things are apparently as glitchy as Bethesda games. I kind of want this line to get a new evolution, the internet and CGI has obviously come a long way since then. But the Porygon line was the only option I had for “internet/modern tech Pokémon”, so I had to go with it.

Emolga

Type: Electric/Flying

Estonia has some of the few pockets of Siberian Flying Squirrel population in the EU, having gone extinct in Latvia, though they tend to be more widespread in Finland; this may be the Pokémon he shares with him. Also the two electric types could be the bridge between nature and tech that he has.

Swellow

Type: Flying/Normal

I almost chose Taillow, because I realized that Estonia had a way higher proportion of fully evolved Pokémon, especially compared to Latvia, who he shouldn’t actually have such a big gap with. But since a friend of mine said that Swellow looked better in the group shot, Swellow it was. Barn Swallows are the national bird of Estonia, and were even apparently one of the national symbols used in the Singing Revolution by Estonians alongside the cornflower. According to one of my sources, in Estonian folklore, anyone who kills a swallow will go blind.

Leafeon

Type: Grass

Because of the forest cover thing, I wanted a grass type. A tree Pokémon preferably... But I ran out of space. Also I thought that there weren’t any good candidates, as I used the Phantump line twice and most tree Pokémon are either too heavily associated with Japanese culture or tropical, but I could have given him a Snover or Abamosnow like I did with Latvia, especially since Latvia got the coniferous tree despite Estonia being further north, and the Christmas tree debate thing. Oops. Still, I guess it slipped my mind since Latvia’s Snover was a pretty late addition. Maybe some other time. In anyway, I chose Leafeon, since you need to go deep into a forest to evolve it. It really has that magical forest creature vibe to it.

In reserve: Probably a Snover or Abamosnow, for reasons I already mentioned.

Hopefully, I’ll actually be able to get a fic out soon!

Bonus: Updated my concept art again!

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

Inevitable

(read on a03)

They found each other in middle school.

It’s funny, isn’t it, how people tend to come into your life at the time they need to. Leave your life, too. They’d both had friends in elementary school, if not many. But once puberty hit and they were all thrown into a new, different building from the one they’d populated for the last six years, those friends disappeared in a puff of smoke, quickly enough they each questioned whether they’d existed in the first place or if they were just a trick of the eye and a well-placed mirror.

Computer labs, in middle school, were better. Or bigger, at least, and the teachers didn’t hover over each person as though the second graders would manage to break the desktop monitors from the early 2000s. And, of course, no one who was anyone every purposefully spent time there.

And so of course Evan and Connor met there, in sixth grade. Not met, exactly, as they’d already known each other from six years of being in the same school and vaguely in each other’s classes, but they spoke for what was probably the first time.

“Are you going to type anything?”

Evan startled, his eyes moving away from where they’d been locked on the computer screen as his mind traveled. To his surprise, Connor had wheeled over from where he had previously been seated across the computer lab and had chosen to stop about a foot from Evan’s own wheely chair. His permanent frown made his brown eyes appear harsher and colder than Evan would have liked to see.

“Sor-uh, sorry? What?”

Connor nodded to the computer screen, where a cursor blinked in and out of existence on a blank word doc. “Your document. You’ve just been fucking staring at it for like, fifteen minutes.”

Evan, still an elementary schooler at heart, internally jumped at the curse word but tried to keep it out of his face. “Yeah? I, uh. I’m not following.”

Connor’s stare was obscenely judgemental. “So are you going to write anything?”

“I was going to!” Evan said, a sudden wave of defensiveness surprising him a little. “I just? I’m not really sure what to write.”

His new companion sighed. “All right. What do you want to read?”

“...What?”

“What do you want to read?” When Evan made no sign that he understood, Connor sighed again, kicking one foot across the floor. He accidentally sent himself flying back a little in the process, but he slid back forward using his other foot pretty quickly. “I watch this YouTube channel, and they have like, art tips or some shit, right? And they always say that if you don’t know what to draw then you should draw what you want to look at. It’s the same with writing, I bet. So,” and with this, Connor propelled himself forward so his right elbow rested on the table right next to Evan’s left, “what do you want to read?”

Evan thought for a moment. He wanted to read a lot, quite truthfully, but he didn’t know how much he could trust Connor with. Accepting his status as an outcast, he decided to tell him the truth. It couldn’t do too much damage.

“I want to read encouragement.” For once, his voice didn’t waver at all.

“Encouragement?”

Well, too late to go back.

“Yeah. ’Cause, you know, this whole having no friends and spending all of my free time in the computer lab thing sucks, but I need to tell myself it won’t last forever because if I don’t I’ll go insane.”

He didn’t mean any of it as a joke, and it was more of a nervous ramble than anything else, but Connor laughed and Evan found that he rather liked the sound.

“Alright, then. Encouragement it is,” Connor decided. “Start it off. A note for yourself.”

He stole the keyboard and keyed in a ‘Dear Evan Hansen.’ Evan was surprised that Connor knew his last name, but Connor shoved the keyboard back before he could question it.

“Uh, okay,” Evan said, and he spoke as he typed. “Today wasn’t an amazing day, and it hasn’t been an amazing year.”

“Wow, encouraging,” Connor muttered under his breath, forcing his hands onto the keyboard over Evan’s. “But you won’t be stuck in this shithole forever, so at least that’s going for you.”

“Connor!” Evan practically squeaked. “The school reads these things! You can’t swear!”

Connor just rolled his eyes and passed the keyboard back to Evan.

The two continued on, passing the keyboard back and forth between them for each sentence. It wasn’t really encouraging by any standard, as they’re mostly just complaining about how bad their days have been, but in the end, Evan laughed and Connor smirked while they headed to the printer, one letter with a nested haiku hidden inside later. And as Connor presented the paper to Evan with a mock-bow, he spoke again.

“You know, you’re wrong about one thing.”

Evan’s heart almost stopped. “What?”

“You do have a friend,” Connor said. “Me.” A look stole across his face, his cheeks dropping. “If..if that’s okay.”

Evan nodded once, and Connor gave him a half smile-not the smirk of before, but a smile that seemed genuine, a peek of sunshine in a cloudy expression.

Connor and Evan came into each other’s lives at exactly the right time when they each needed it most. Maybe it was inevitable that they would have found each other, or maybe they were just very, very lucky. Evan certainly thought that he was lucky to have Connor with him throughout the trench of middle and high school.

And so time marched on, and nothing was certain or easy but it was still easier than it had been. Being with Connor was easy in a way that it wasn’t with any of his previous friends. He didn’t feel like he had to apologize for existing around Connor, much as he wanted to sometimes. Because it didn’t feel unnatural and uncomfortable to be around him as it often did with anyone else; being around him felt as easy as breathing, and even when his lungs failed him and closed up in anxiety, Connor was there.

They still wrote notes to each other. They were, as Connor said, “fucking nerds,” and so they kept up the tradition, sometimes to each other and sometimes to themselves. They seemed to know which letters were okay to read and which were for the other’s eyes only; Evan’s frequent encouragements to himself were sometimes read by Connor and sometimes left alone, something he endlessly appreciated. And together, they rolled their eyes at Cynthia’s or Larry’s or Heidi’s skeptical looks when they gently prodded the two about their romantic interests or all the time they’d been spending in each other’s rooms, attempts that were surely meant to be subtle but were anything but.

Evan found himself watching Connor in those times. He’d learned to read Connor quickly, looking for each shift in expression with a practiced eye. But his expression then was almost unreadable. His best guess was that Connor didn’t really care. He didn’t, either. He could handle the questions and skeptical looks, since all his time with Connor was truly time he cherished for the comfort he felt in their moments together, even when they didn’t speak. He was just happy to have a friend, and he thought - knew - that Connor felt the same way.

(he ignored the growing feeling in the pit of his stomach, a great mass of tangled vines and leaves that seemed to latch itself to his skin. he told himself it was just nerves, that creeping feeling around his heart. he believed it, too. because he and Connor were meant to be best friends and best friends only.)

They spent nearly all of their time together at school and at home, and inevitably they accompanied each other on their respective family trips. Heidi had much less time off work than either of the Murphy parents did, so Evan found himself many a summer Friday packed in the car with the whole Murphy quadruple on the way to the beach an hour or so away from their town. Too afraid of getting carsick to use his phone or read on the ride, he mostly passed the time chatting with Connor and Zoe. Evan and Connor often had difficulty sustaining conversations with each other in front of other people, but Zoe didn’t seem to have this problem; she always managed to keep Evan chatting about different music genres or astronomy facts or canceled TV shows from the early 2000s. Connor usually didn’t seem to mind it, but it must have been weighing on his mind somewhat, enough that he couldn’t push it away with his normal excitement over getting to drag Evan into the ocean for half a day.

“Do you like my sister?” Connor said softly one Friday, facing directly out to sea. He dug his feet into the soft sand as a tiny wave met his ankles. Evan almost missed it, but he realized what Connor was truly asking a moment later.

“What? No, I, no, that’s ridiculous, I, uh, I mean-” he shook his head rapidly. Connor didn’t appear sated. “Zoe...Zoe is great. But I’m not, I don’t think that I…she’s more like a sister to me than anything else.”

Connor didn’t seem to know what to say. He further dug his toes into the sand.

“Why?” He finally said. “Zoe is great. She’s...probably perfect for you in every fucking way.”

Evan furrowed his brow. “Why are you asking me? Did she…”

“No,” Connor rushed to clarify. “No, I don’t think she does. She didn’t ask me anything, anyway. I just…” Evan let Connor scrounge for words. “I’m wondering why you don’t feel that way when there’s someone right in front of you who’s practically the fairy tale happy ending you probably dream about.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent phrasing ever, but Evan understood what Connor was getting at. He gazed at the back of Connor’s head a few feet in front of him, and instinctively, he found himself smiling at the reality of the boy in front of him. He finally pushed forward through the wet sand and reached Connor’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, running one hand over his short, coarse hair. He chanced a shift of his gaze towards Connor. The light caught on his high cheekbones, giving him an almost ethereal look. “I can’t, I guess I just can’t control things like that. Maybe if I could turn it off and on, I would feel like that...like Zoe was perfect for me. Like she and I were destined to be together.”

He saw Connor swallow roughly.

“But I can’t. And Zoe is fantastic, but I don’t like her like that. I don’t think she and I are destined to be anything more than friends. People come into our lives for a reason, you know? And I don’t think that’s hers for me.”

And they were quiet for a moment.

“Little too feminine for your type, I guess,” Connor finally muttered, eyes scanning out over the horizon where the sea met the sky. Evan felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat, and he backhanded Connor’s shoulder without looking at him directly.

“Hey!”

“What?” Connor said, finally meeting Evan’s eyes. The sudden, sharp focus in them made Evan’s breath catch in his throat. “It’s the truth.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice even. “Maybe it is.”

That was the closest they’d ever come to confessing anything; even in the bright, unforgiving sun, those four words felt much larger than they really were, and he almost regretted them. They somehow seemed more dangerous in the light of day than they did when whispered under covers in the comforting darkness of nighttime. But he didn’t regret them (couldn’t, really), because the smile that Connor smiled in response was brighter than the sun reflecting off of the sandy waves. Waves that crashed into their ankles moments later, cold and harsh and salty, and it was then that Connor laughed, the sound high and clear and fitting softly into Evan’s ears.

And into high school they marched, equally unsure of what they would face. Mostly the same as middle school, but they had each other from the beginning. They didn’t have every class together, but they had enough that they could get through the day. Connor learned that sketching helped to calm him after a day of school and Evan relearned that nature helped him. Connor joined him most days in Evan’s backyard, despite his pollen allergies.

Evan, in true Evan style, had grabbed assorted flowers as the two walked home from school and had begun to twist them into a vague crown shape. He didn’t really know how to, but it was coming out all right. He sat with Connor in a tree in his backyard, occasionally glancing up to Connor to see his progress on another sketch. He couldn’t see what the sketch was, only a few vague shapes and lines, but he didn’t know much about drawing anyway. He was mostly just glad to have Connor with him. Smiling softly, he plucked up a small blue flower and tucked it behind his ear.

“Is that a flower in your hair?” Connor said. He must have looked up from his sketchbook just in time to see it.

“Yes,” Evan said simply. “Would you like one?”

Connor snorted.

“What?” Evan demanded. “It matches your aesthetic.”

“Oh, yeah. Flowers are so punk rock, Evan.”

“Punk rock,” Evan mocked just under his breath. He was rewarded with a pencil hitting him in the shoulder a moment later, followed by a grunt of annoyance from Connor as it immediately fell to the ground.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s what you get for your violence, Con. Karma.”

“Where’s your karmic retribution for forcing me outside at the height of allergy season?”

Evan shrugged. “I’m too nice for it. My karma balances out.”

“That figures.” There was a pause, and Evan thought he’d be able to finish his flower crown in peace, but Connor’s voice called “hey, catch!” before he could.

Immediately Evan’s pulse skyrocketed, heart in his throat. A book dropped into his lap, nearly making him drop his flower crown. He almost fell from the tree in an attempt to grab the book before it could slide from his lap, but in the end, both he and the book made it just fine, only a few years off of Evan’s life total. Evan ran his thumb over the edge of the sketchbook, where a yellow sticky note protruded slightly.

“Jesus Christ,” he finally said, when he regained air in his lungs. “You know I can’t catch. Why would you do that?”

Connor shrugged. “To see you jump.”

Evan glared as best he could against the sun.

“Well,” Connor said. “Open it.”

Evan thumbed it open to the sticky note indicated page. He was immediately accosted with his own face staring back at him, followed by an angle he could assume was what Connor could see of him while they both sat seated in the tree. He was out of breath again, but this time he just didn’t know what to say. He studied his own face; it had the same big, open eyes, skin shaded and dark and smooth against his cheeks and forehead, lips parted just slightly and turned up in the barest of smiles. And in the second he just looked relaxed more than anything, completely at peace in his environment. That idea, him calm and settled, nearly brought tears to his eyes. Instead, he looked out towards his house and smiled. He inhaled once, and once again, trying to work through the heavy feeling over his heart and chest.

“Oh my God, Connor. These are...really good.”

“Well, I had a great subject to study.”

Evan can feel his cheeks darken at that, but luckily Connor doesn’t have a great vantage point to see it. He shifted on the branch in order to get a better look at Connor. He, too, appeared relaxed. Evan held the sketchbook in one hand and traded the completed flower crown into that hand as well, passing both up to Connor. “C’mon. Show us that Fae blood.”

Connor’s mouth twisted into something half smile, half grimace. “No, no thanks. No need to pay me for my work. Just leave it.”

“C’mon, Connor,” Evan whined. “Please?”

They held eyes for a moment, and Connor nodded. Grinning triumphantly, Evan watched as Connor lowered the flowers onto his head. The sun behind Connor’s head seemed to dip just behind it, giving all of Connor’s long hair the impression of catching fire with all of the light it reflected. Connor looked almost otherworldly, and Evan caught himself marveling at the fact that Connor even existed, and that he had the good fortune of knowing him. Of being allowed to force him to wear a flower crown, he thought with a smile. He felt that same pressure return to his chest, and he found himself thinking that he’d quite like to be on that branch with Connor, soaking up the light, soaking up Connor’s body heat, pressing closer to him.

He didn’t like the idea of having that feeling, much as the feeling itself made him feel a type of lightheaded happiness that made the tips of his fingers feel tingly. No, he didn’t like having the feeling, because he knew that Connor didn’t have it. And if Connor knew that was how Evan felt...

The first day of senior year was when Evan felt like he could burst with the feeling. Even just looking at Connor hurt, as though despite his black jeans and gray sweatshirt he was filled with all the light of the sun. He found himself in the computer lab, pouring it all out into a letter to himself.

“Well this is fucking weird, isn’t it?”

Evan’s heart jumped up into his throat. He spun in his wheely chair, his eyes automatically connecting with Connor’s. Of course Connor had known where to find him. He stood quickly, crossing Connor’s path and making a beeline for the printer.

“What is?” He said finally.

“Being in a computer lab. I mean, it’s not 2005 anymore. I forgot this place fucking existed.”

Evan shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of like it. I mean-“ and he ignored the wave of nostalgia that crashed over him, the memory of Connor’s elbow next to his own at eleven years old so clear and strong that he could feel it, “remember when we used to hang out in the middle school lab?”

“Do I ever,” Connor muttered. He crossed the room in a few long strides, turning so his back leaned against the table and his shoulder was nearly against Evan’s own. Evan didn’t look at Connor, instead choosing to wait for the impossibly slow printer to print his letter to himself. “Hey,” Connor said, his voice impossibly soft. His hand reached over and settled at the corner of Evan’s jaw, which tensed out of habit. Connor didn’t pull away. He gently guided Evan’s face to look at his own. “Are you okay?”

A nervous flurry erupted low in his gut at that question. “What, I, uh, I mean-why do, do you ask?”

As Evan reached for the paper in the tray, Connor shook his head a little bit. “You’re avoiding me. You have been all day.” He swallowed roughly. “You won’t look me in the eye.”

Evan didn’t deny it.

“Did I - God.” Connor cut himself off, closing his eyes for a moment. He reopened them, immediately focusing back into Evan. “Please just look at me, Evan.”

And Evan did. He looked into the eyes that had been beside him for almost seven years, the deep brown eyes he’d once viewed as harsh and cold but now saw untold warm, wild pools of color inside of.

“Are you okay?” Connor said, his lips moving in a new way, as though each word was difficult for him to say.

Evan opened his mouth, closed it again. He tried to speak again. “Yes.”

Connor’s eyes flickered down for the briefest moment. “And if I read that letter, I’d be able to see-”

“You won’t read it,” Evan said, his voice sharper than intended in his desperation. “You won’t take it.”

A muscle worked in Connor’s jaw. “No. No, I won’t.”

Evan nodded once, slowly.

Connor’s eyes still searched his, but he couldn’t break eye contact, not anymore. Truthfully he was okay, but he wasn’t when Connor was that close to him, when his thoughts scattered in a thousand different forbidden routes. He couldn’t think with Connor’s touch, couldn’t think anything but a thousand things he wasn’t supposed to think about his best friend. He didn’t want to hurt Connor anymore. He couldn’t decide what to do, and the impulsive part of his brain, the side that wasn’t actually impulsive but was rather in tune with some plan Evan must have secretly had for years, was rapidly taking over.

Connor’s eyes flickered down to Evan’s lips, hesitant and pained but full of so much longing that Evan felt his own heart ache.

And then Evan kissed him.

It felt inevitable, in some roundabout way. Like some cosmic path led them to that point, with Connor’s lips pressed to his and his hand splayed along his jawline and their hips digging sharply into each other’s. Like no matter how often they claimed straight-laced, testosterone-prone innocence, they’d end up right there. Maybe they’d professed friendship and platonic feelings to make themselves feel less guilty, and maybe they’d inevitably end up as more like they were destined to be. Maybe they were bound to be more than they could ever be, entwined in a way that others didn’t think of as natural.

And Connor kissed him back, and it all felt inevitable, like finally feeling a wave crash around his ankles when he turned his back to the ocean and could only hear the approaching water rather than see it. It felt inevitable, but Evan didn’t particularly care whether it should happen or not. For once, the list of things he cared about began and ended with one thing, and he had that right at his fingertips. The pressure of Connor’s body on his, all sharp angles contrasted to the soft way his lips pressed to Evan’s, drove away any other thought or desire or care he could have. He pulled Connor closer to him and felt his cheeks heat at the noise, almost feral, that Connor made when Evan parted his lips to allow Connor’s exploring.

And he kissed him and he kissed him back, and that was more than enough, more than he could have ever imagined.

They broke apart later, and as Evan’s eyes drifted open and he saw the light catch on Connor’s eyelashes and begin to reach his eyes, he unfurled the paper from his grasp and grabbed Connor’s hand with his free hand. He pushed the letter into Connor’s fist and closed his fingers around it. Connor didn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away from Evan’s, but after a minute he lifted the letter up. Evan studied his face as Connor’s eyes zipped across the page at superhuman speed, as they always did. He recognized the expression on his face, finally, for the first time in a while. The corners of Connor’s eyes had crinkled in amusement, but he could see the happiness flicker a little towards the middle of the page. Evan mimicked Connor’s earlier nervous reaction, one hand twisting his shirt and his chin dropping closer to his chest. He felt Connor’s soft hand at his jaw again, tilting his head back up so he could look in Evan’s eyes.

“I would never think that,” Connor said, the slight flicker of anger making the different browns of his eyes stand out from each other in stark contrast. “Evan. I would never think that. I would never think those things. You’re—” his voice cut off, seemingly of its own accord. He continued, and his voice was a little stronger. “You’re the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me. Jesus, Evan. You’re the only good thing. I could never think that about you.”

Evan didn’t miss the way Connor’s voice wavered towards the end. As Connor leaned in and gently pressed his lips to the corner of Evan’s mouth, he felt his arms move of their own accord and wrap themselves around Connor’s shoulders. Connor hugged him back and Evan buried his head into the base of Connor’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Connor laughed. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” Evan said, still whispering. “I don’t know. I thought that you, when you knew how I- I’m just sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Evan felt a warm, gentle pressure atop his head for just a second. He realized it was a kiss a moment later. “Don’t ever be.”

Maybe it was all inevitable.

[hauntedblonde]

__________________________narcissa lucretia black.

age & birthday. fifteen, october 3rd.

sign. libra.

house & year. slytherin, fifth year.

blood status. purest blood.

character pronouns. she, her.

sexuality. heterosexual

siblings. bellatrix black, andromeda black.

other relations. cygnus black and druella black nee rosier - parents, orion black and walburga black - uncle and aunt, sirius black and regulus black - cousins, evan rosier - cousin, rodolphus lestrange - sister’s fiance.

clubs. slug club

favorite classes. herbology, divinations, astrology, potions.

least favorite classes. transfiguration, defense against the dark arts.

height. 5′6″

hair colour. pale blonde.

eye colour. pale green.

hair style. parted in the center and hangs straight to her shoulders.

fashion style. narcissa wears only the color black unless she is in her school uniform or it is a very special occasion. she only wears skirts and dresses, no pants. she prefers a short black dress with a high neckline and no sleeves with a late modern appearance. cissy wears boots with a heels most often. she has a love for jewelry that looks like bugs. [ fashion board ]

distinguishing features. narcissa is known for being pale and icy in appearance and demeanor, but strikingly beautiful especially against the darkness usually around her. her eyes are hawklike and intelligent, but the rest of her expression is almost always unreadable. she has no blemishes to speak of, but a scar on her thigh and one on her collarbone.

______________________________wand.

12 1/3″, pine wood wand with a unicorn hair core, understandably delicate.

Pine is a quiet wood, not powerful, not weak. It is a softwood, and thus has a bit more yield, making it more inclined to a quick-learning but less powerful wands. It is, however, excellent for Divination. Pine Wands choose independent, individual masters who may be perceived as loners, intriguing, and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, including Garrick Ollivander who had never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic. Delicate wands are a special case. It takes special care to learn spells with this wand, but it is rarely extremely powerful. They tend to choose witches and wizards with somewhat frail personalities, and once a spell is learned, although it is not as strong, it is extremely reliable.

Unicorn hair can be used in wandmaking; they produce the most consistent magic, least subject to fluctuations and blockages, most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts and the most faithful of wands. However, they do not make the most powerful of wands and are prone to melancholy if mishandled.

______________________________pets.

Narcissa has two pet snakes named Ophelia and Desdemona.

______________________________amortentia.

Snow.

The crisp, biting scent that hits your nose the second that you step foot outside the morning after a fresh snow is one of Narcissa’s favorite things in the world. Especially if it’s the first snow of the year. Something about that is just so different and special. She couldn’t quite put into words the way winter made her feel.

Christmas Garland.

Christmas was always exciting to Narcissa because it meant that there would be more people in the household than just her sisters and parents. She loved seeing her Aunts and Uncles and Grandparents and Cousins, especially when they brought her presents. She also loved how much effort went into decorating their home for the holidays with garland, wreaths, candles, tinsel, and charms. Narcissa was nothing if not a connoisseur of beauty.

Peppermint.

Narcissa, nor any of the Black sisters, were allowed sweets growing up. Druella insisted that it would make them fat and lazy and completely undesirable. As a result, the closest thing they were allowed to have was peppermints, and Narcissa went overboard on them. She almost always keeps a tin of them next to her bed.

______________________________boggart.

Narcissa’s greatest fear is always feeling as powerless, controlled, and alone as she has been for the majority of her life. She sees so many people, even lowly mudbloods, with friends and love and warmth in their lives, but she doesn’t have it. She’s so afraid she never will.

______________________________patronus.

luna moth.

Luna moths represent rebirth, renewal of body and spirit, regeneration and may even symbolize the soul itself. Luna moths, like many types of moths and butterflies, are quite beautiful in appearance and have docile personalities. Their physical beauty and charm make these large moths symbols of reflection, nourishment and life.

______________________________biography.

From the moment she entered this world, during that liminal time before the sun has risen, but the sky is still lighter than in the depths of the night, Narcissa was the antithesis to the traditional Blacks. Where her sisters, mother, father, cousins had dark hair, sharp features, cutting eyes, and venomous mouths, Narcissa was a ghost; soft, curved, delicate, haunting. 

The third and final disappointment to Cygnus the Third who so desperately wanted a son, Narcissa was all but ignored by her father from the beginning. If he wasn’t presenting her with a lavishly expensive doll or gown, he didn’t care to talk to his youngest. Bellatrix was the apple of his eye.

Alternatively, Druella became enamoured with their fair daughter. Her features were unlike any others in the family, and Druella valued two things above all else; beauty and how that beauty can be useful to her. Before Narcissa was even capable of speech, she had a string of pearls too tight around her neck like a collar that her mother used to remind her that her grasp was inescapable. Her youth consisted of years of lessons, tutors, and strict schedules. Even by Fitzwilliam Darcy standards, Narcissa would be considered an accomplished young lady. The better she became at any given task, the more her mother demanded of her. There was no such thing as perfect to Druella, only more to improve upon. That was the beginning of Narcissa’s deceptions. She was certain to never show how talented she was, and let her family believe she was completely average.

She envied Andromeda, whose quiet nature and subdued appearance made her free of their parents tutelage. The middle child was left to her own devices and could go as she pleased throughout the day. If ever given a moment, Narcissa would soon enough steal away to a private corner of the attic, basement, or garden with an old tome from the Black’s personal library. Of course, her respites never lasted too long. The house elves, her sisters, or even her mother would find her and drag her back into the endless lessons. Narcissa never complained. She did all that her mother asked, biding her time.

The solitary light at the end of the tunnel was Hogwarts. Bellatrix had gone, Andromeda had gone, and Narcissa had been left solitary for a year, yearning for the day she’d be able to board the train at King’s Cross Station and disappear to a year away from her suffocating mother. It occurred to her a few months before she was meant to leave for school that perhaps her mother wouldn’t allow it. She even thought she’d overheard Druella begging Cygnus to let her homeschool Narcissa for the rest of her academic career, but thankfully, he’d sternly refuted his wife. Narcissa needed to be sociable and influential at school if the Black family was to continue its powerful grip on society.

Druella wept when Narcissa packed her trunk for her first year. She’d been distraught about her youngest daughter leaving for weeks. Their mother kept wringing her hands and proclaiming that she had no idea what she would do with her time now. Narcissa feigned regret for leaving and assured her mother that she’d find some way to fill her time. However, Narcissa had never been more excited to experience the freedom that came with school. From the moment she stepped on the train, it felt as if a world lifted from her shoulders. Even her pearl necklace didn’t feel quite so strangling. 

Narcissa sat in a compartment with Andromeda and a few of her classmates instead of trying to find other first years to talk to. Frankly, she appreciated simply looking at the scenery as they went along. She enjoyed just sitting and being without having to do anything. Andromeda warned her that there would be people at Hogwarts who would have heard of her, and there would be plenty of rumors about her and her family, but Narcissa didn’t care. They could say that she was the devil incarnate, and she’d still be excited to hear a voice that wasn’t her mother’s saying it.

After the sorting ceremony, she began to realize the full implications of her sister’s warning. She unpacked her trunk in the Slytherin dormitory with the rest of the first year girls and attempted to make her first friends. They all smiled until names were exchanged. She heard the whispers when her back was turned. They only intensified when the eldest Black sister appeared to check on Narcissa her first day. After a quick greeting and good luck, Bellatrix told the rest of the Slytherin girls to be nice to her sister or else. As kind as the gesture had meant to be, it assured Narcissa a rather lonely first year. Even those who wanted to suck up to a Black sister didn’t bother to talk to Narcissa for fear of invoking Bellatrix’s wrath. Not to mention, Andromeda came off far more personable- an easier friend.

Narcissa threw herself into learning who she actually was. She had plenty of free time without friends to worry about and without her mother’s constant presence, though she did have to dedicate a portion of her week to responding to her mother’s letters. She decided to have average marks in her classes despite fully understanding the material and even studying further than what the classes required. It was to her advantage the world continued to see her as the beautiful sister. While the rumors about her spread even more, Narcissa became more and more lonely. She decided to play into the persona that everyone had created for her. 

Her school life continued as such until the middle of her fourth year. Narcissa began to study legillimancies and occlumencies. She was very good at it. Disturbingly good at it. During the middle of the night, she began to explore the innermost thoughts of her schoolmates, sisters, and anyone else she thought would be interesting to understand. The more accomplished she became, the more willing she was to do what was ethically questionable. The more ethically questionable her decisions became the more her curiosity for the darker arts and divination became. However, her studies no longer fill that space in her that craves connection. Is this the year that she finally finds someone she can connect with or will she be the lone princess locked away in her castle forever?

[deathbyvalentine]

Frankly Too Many Prompt Fills

Lucy -  Wedding Ring

She twisted it around her finger, a habit she had never truly grown out of when she was anxious. The bar was busy for a Wednesday night, full of business types either networking or celebrating. Suits were finely pressed and watches and phones glinted from every angle. It was a far cry from what the Aquinas Nether would call a social space.

But then, she was a far cry from what they would call a lady. Ridiculous dresses discarded, she was back to her soft jeans and smart jackets that had characterised much of her teenage years. There was still traditional touches - her jewels and the cut of her neckline, but she looked merely vintage rather than archaic. 

She was never fully at ease in the Mundane world, though she was a damn sight better than most. She took a breath and settled her hands in her lap, forcing calm. The meeting would be quick and painless. Joshua was a friend of Edwin’s, so could be counted on to be a good sort. He had a business venture he was seeking advice on - mostly how it would be viewed across the water in England. Predictably, she was now considered the family expert on all things English.

He arrived, a little out of breath, hair fluffy from the wind outside. “Lucy?” He queried, a bright smile appearing on his face when she stood and greeted him, barely reaching up to his shoulder. They shook hands and took their places at the table, him graciously buying her drink.

Joshua wasted no time in talking business. He was a passionate young man, his eyes glimmering with excitement and plans. She realised, with a jolt, she could not actually be very much older than him, and yet she felt as though she had lived a hundred lives more. She gave him the advice she could, advising him on how the English Nether lot handled their properties and what business moves they would see as unspeakably rude. 

When they had exhausted that topic, she found she was rather engaged with him. He seemed want to know everything about her, asking questions after her tastes in music and art. She was ashamed to admit she found herself quite pleased, responding demurely and with that high fluttering laugh she reserved solely for those she liked.

He at one point put his hand on her arm, and she looked down, cheeks heating up. If there was any doubt before, there was none now. The electric young man was flirting with her. This was no great revelation. She saw no point in false modesty. She was pretty and funny and men liked her. She was more surprised at how she appeared to be flirting back.

Until his eyes flickered down to her hand and saw the unobtrusive little ring sitting there, on her ring finger. Automatically she turned her hand over, taking a sip of wine with her other. “Oh, you’re married?”

She hesitated. Yes. She was married. She hadn’t signed any paperwork, hadn’t sent any letters to Tom, hadn’t done much else but packed her belongings and went home, scarcely a word passing between them. When she thought of him, a hundred emotions flitted through her head and so few of them were good.

And yet.

The thought of separating from him, of cutting his life from hers quite so decisively was as frightening to her as standing on the precipice of a cliff. He was hers, her husband and she did not want to admit that perhaps it wasn’t true. He was flawed and repressed and sometimes unkind, but he had glimmers in him. Memories of their teamwork, of his gentleness, of his arms around her could not be dislodged or forgotten. She would not take off the ring, because to do so would be admitting that he would never be in her life again, would never hold her, would never be that reassuring presence to her flighty one. Her throat tightened - she could hardly bear it. 

“Yes. I am.”

Adorable

It wasn’t that the term was inaccurate. It was that it wasn’t all she was. It tended to be all men saw. Their mistake. Humans had spent millennia learning that bright colours on snakes and toads and frogs did not mean they were safe. They should have learnt the same of little girls.

Her hair was blonde and pin straight. Her eyes were wide and bright blue. She was unusually short for her fourteen years and had delicate wrists. She wore bows in her hair, adored the colour pink and spoke in a high soft voice. Adults liked her nice manners and how clean she looked. 

Vanessa was not nice. Vanessa was not delicate. She was not innocent or soft or gentle, or anything people assumed from her appearance. The last of Vanessa’s soft edges had been filed off the moment she had realised something fatal - she was pretty. She had been looking at herself in the mirror, trying to connect herself with her body, that she existed, that this was all she was. The realisation hit her suddenly and with violence. It took her a few more years to realise that pretty could not only be an advantage. It could be a weapon.

She leaned over countertops on tip toes, whispering orders into floundering waiters ears. She crossed her legs in short skirts and bobbed her ankle in school, chewing on the end of her pencil and pretending not to feel her classmates eyes on her skin. Everything was engineered - every bubble popped, every thumb sucked, every heavy blink. 

Look all you like. But don’t touch. People learnt that lesson the same way they would a rattlesnake. 

The first instance was at a 7-11, when she was standing in a queue, phone clutched in one hand and a slushie in the other. A college boy who should have known better dared to brush his finger tips under the edge of her skirt. She turned as though burnt, slushie already lashing out to land fully in his face. It didn’t end there.

It ended with a car in a ditch, blood splattered against the steering wheel, window bent and cracked. It ended with him wheezing for air, no help immediately forthcoming. It ended with snapped breaks, with no clues.

Vanessa would not apologise for her nature.

‘Let’s Play At Being Slaves.’ I Whispered.

The room was dim and dark, lit only by the streetlights outside. The furniture in the room was painted in silhouette, shadows framed against the orange glow. I was crouched in front of the sofa, looking up at Sofia up on the cushions. Her eyes were wide, her black hair streaked with amber light. Her hands were tight on the edge, white knuckled. Upstairs, the adults were asleep. This was now our own private world. 

They didn’t know about the games girls played. The rituals we performed, the secrets we whispered. We were not sugar and spice. We were witches. We were scorpions. We were murderesses and orphans and ghosts. We scrabbled at each other with stubby nails, pretending to be lions ripping apart David. We poured every berry and leaf we found into water, mixed it with mud and sticks, called it a potion and dared each other to drink it. 

My favourite place in the whole world was the graveyard, with it’s stone and moss and solemnity not find it melancholy. I found it wild. I loved the birds singing with fierce joy, refusing to feel the shadow of death across their feathers. The insects didn’t care that they were meant to be respectful. 

Our dolls were our totems, our poppets, our souls. We cut their hair and painted their skin and made them both in our image and out of them. They died with frequency, drowned or hurled from kitchen countertop cliffs. And they were always, always reborn at the first break of day.

The Doctor's Day Off 

Tommy had only intended to pop home for two minutes to change before a date with Paris. He’d be back in Greece before nightfall. Jones was at the medical centre, unsurprisingly. If the sun was in the sky, that’s where she’d be. His chest was half covered by a clean shirt when the doorbell rang. He paused. Couldn’t be any of the bullshit club. None of them knocked, they just let themselves in. For similar reasons, it was unlikely to be anyone who wanted to kill him.

He padded down the stairs in his bare feet, yawning blearily. He had barely unlocked the door when a high shrieking assaulted his ears, quickly followed by a babble of a language he didn’t speak. He blinked, processing the scene in front of him. 

The fae with blue skin was pouring with purple blood and making a high pitched keening sound, held by the one with green skin who was also the one with an angry expression and an angrier voice, throwing words around in their native language. Tommy stepped aside to let them in, pointing them to the dining room where the table had never seen use as a food holder but had seen too much as an operating table. 

Of course they happened to arrive when Jones was at her normal job. Of course. He snapped on some plastic gloves, trying to get some sense out of the both of them. Soon they realised he only spoke english and switched to it, albeit begrudgingly. From what he could gather, there was something of a seelie/unseelie gang war occurring in the woods and it was no longer being contained to dawn or dusk. Tommy felt he deserved a medal for the amount of patience he showed through this interaction, managing to resist calling either of them idiots.

First job was the grossest. Rearranging the insides that had half slipped out of place when the gash in the abdomen had opened. Harder than it sounds, considering he had no real idea about fae anatomy. He figured the second heart would go behind the liver shaped thing, and the intestines would probably make something like a spiral pattern. He managed to avoid pulling faces when his hands were literally inside of their flesh. Just. 

Sewing them up was easy in comparison, even if he did end up needing to use a much thicker needle and a thread that didn’t blend so easily into purple blood. It wasn’t the most perfect stitching in the world, but it was better than bleeding out in a ditch. He gave them some dressings and sent them on their way.

He was five minutes into scrubbing his hands clean when the doorbell rang again. Distantly, he heard a shrieking coming from outside. He groaned and let his head his the bathroom mirror. Maybe he should just invite Paris here.

Harlequin

The easy thing to do would have been to blame it on him. To sign off her madness like she had signed off her last name, pushed it over to his camp, wash her hands of all responsibility. She might not even have been wrong to do so. His pushing and prodding and poking had definitely sped her way towards going off the deep end.

But she liked her madness being hers. She was proud of it. She had taken the seed and cultivated it until it bloomed into a nasty flower. She had tossed away the meekness and polite manners that had never fitted quite right. Shredded her beige pantyhose and grey dresses. Cut her hair unevenly and wore bright eyeshadow and lipstick at the same time. She talked to herself, saw insults and adoration where there was none and didn’t stop herself from biting when it was deserved.

Madness wasn’t all pretty, but it was freeing. She didn’t care about being pretty. Not anymore. She would no longer deny her worst impulses for fear of how it would make her look. She liked bared teeth more than her smile, her nails like talons instead of manicured. Watch out world. She was a madwoman now. Attics and asylums and hospitals would be her home and she would release any woman she came across trapped inside them.

UTS - Popular 

He couldn’t actually picture himself popular. So much would have to change. He would have to be rich, he would have to live on the right side of the tracks. His clothes would have to go - out the faded flannel and torn jeans, the home-done hair cut and repaired glasses. 

He could see glimpses of it sometimes, when he wore the clothes Wendy well meaningly shoved towards him, or Freddy’s jacket sat around his shoulders. He imagined waking up and going to school, surrounded by friends, not glancing over his shoulder. Getting invited to parties in houses with pools, drinking booze that cost more than a few quid, teachers smiling at him in corridors.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it. You couldn’t miss what you had never had. He wasn’t sure he could cope with the pressures of social perfection, if he could stand being quite that vapid, if maintenance of his personality was something he wanted to focus on. And the group that milled around in the halls, perfume and glitter pouring off them, he didn’t like a single one of them. Even the one he was fucking. 

What was it about popularity that made you into a grade A dick? Did you get a brain transplant as well as a stupid nickname? He hoped never to find out.

T67 - Scams 

She applied the glittering lipstick, admiring herself in the mirror. She looked like an utter daydream, baby pink hair curling down to her bare shoulders in fluffy clouds, big blue eyes framed with gold stars. Astrid was often unaware of her looks, but right now it was impossible to think she was anything but beautiful. She slipped the lipstick down her cleavage, and admired herself one last time. Then it was back into the rave.

The lights were flashing and blue, and occasionally ultraviolet, making Astrid’s nails and some flecks of her glitter light up. Heads turned. A small smile flickered on her face. She liked the attention. She drew it towards her as she made her way to the centre of the dancefloor. She loved dancing, and it showed, body moving to the thumping beat, feeling it through her feet. Her eyes drifted across the bar and she found her mark. He was wearing a suit, the tie looking like it was made of some tightly woven mesh, his cufflinks flickering through advertisements. His eyes dragged up her body and when they reached her eyes, she did not shy away. 

It was a slow game. One made of many dances, many glances and finally, a slight touch on her wrist. He had finally joined her, his chest against hers, his hands finding her waist. He leaned down towards her lips and she tilted her head so his lips made contact with her neck. She tangled her fingers with his, kissed his knuckles and after three songs, lead him from the dancefloor, catching the eye of Syn as she left.

The cloakroom was warm but blessedly quiet, and Astrid had to stand on tiptoes to finally kiss him. Her lips grazed his, his tongue flicking out to taste her. It took a few seconds for the effect to take place. His pupils widened, his breathing hitching a little. Another minute and he was asleep. Astrid loved her lipstick. Carefully she turned the gentleman over, hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his credits and wallet, the watch around his wrists, his IDs. She left the cloak room, shutting it behind her and going to find Syn.

Imaginary Friends Tea Party

I don’t know why people think little girls’ imaginary friends are sweet. Mine never were. And now, with them all sitting around the table, I realised they still weren’t. Except now I was clever enough to be afraid of them. 

I raised the tea cup to my lips, ignoring the slight clatter when I placed it back down onto the plate. I hid my hands in my lap, not wishing for them to see my trembling. They looked like they smelt fear as clearly as blood. 

The First sat at the other end of the table and I wasn’t versed in etiquette enough to know if he was the head of the table or I was.  I avoided his eyes every time I glanced up, pretending to be fascinated by the silverware, the napkins. 

He was a brute, unreasonably huge. He was what I thought wolves looked like, informed only by picture books and my father’s imitation howling. There was a shock of grey fur, shot through with black, a muzzle that was disproportionately large. His teeth were sharp and his mouth was red red red. He was not delicate, shoving his nose into tea cups, slobbering all over the delicate saucers. He did not have a name. There was a noise I used to make to summon him, beyond words. 

Beside him, there was the one from when I was old enough to realise that I was a girl. She was doll like, tiny and short, golden curls hitting her tiny waist. Her eyes were a little too big for her face, her movements slow and measured. Her name was Grace and I loved her once. She was an idol, a mentor and a crush all at the same time. I wanted to be her and when I was a teenager I wanted to destroy her. The cracks showed now, up along her forearms, at her temples. Her mouth was red too, but gave the impression that the wrong touch would smear them.

There were more animal-like creatures dotted here and there, looking like nothing that actually existed but like an amalgamation of many. It wasn’t actually the mammal constructions that frightened me the most. It was the bird-like creatures, with sharp movements, beaks and talons. None of them were plain - all of the colours were eyewateringly bright. These tended to be from when I was younger, fascinated with the world around me. As I got older, they took on different shapes.

They were human shaped, all of them. Their eyes flickered to look at me constantly, adjusting their movements whenever I moved, like I was the sun around which they all orbited. In a way, I was. Lonely, frustrated, surrounded by depictions of love that seemed out of reach. So all of my imaginary friends built when I was a teenager had one thing in common - they adored me. 

Ailliana wanted to be my best friend. She thought I had the best advice and the best hair and the best sleepovers. Tate thought I was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth, always wanted to hold my hand and stroke my hair when I slept. Ethan (as I got older, they nearly all became boys) featured mainly in the soft time before sleep, where I would dare to imagine his lips on mine, his body pressing me into the mattress. 

This meal had the feeling of an intervention to it, I realised. They wanted to know where I had been, what I had been doing. The reason given was curiosity but I saw the sidelong looks, the clenched fingers around cutlery. The accusation thar sat as heavy in the air as Grace’s perfume.

Why had I left them? Well, I had replaced them with flesh and blood. I had found that I rather enjoyed it when I didn’t know what someone was about to do. I loved looking over at my friend and trying to guess what they were thinking. People were entire worlds contained. My imagination was only a reflection of myself. And I didn’t always like my reflection.

But I wanted them to go even less.

The Fae Prince of Thorns

The stone walls had been carved to look as though they were not stone at all, but wood, growing naturally and strong. Unmoving marble leaves and ivy decorated each column, promising a breath of wind would shift them. False promises were woven into the fabric of this place. 

The throne looked rather plain in comparison to the surrounding hall. Flint, it looked like, pieced together to make the seat. A single beam of light from a hole in the far-away ceiling fell on it, letting in rain and sun alike. The reason became clear once you’d looked at the throne for a few moments. Inbetween the gaps of the flint, something grew. It curved around pieces of rock possessively, rooting it to the ground. The throne would be immovable. This place is where it lived and this place is where it would perish. It would outlast the monarchs that sat on its uncomfortable mantel. 

The Prince’s clothing (and to a lesser extent, skin) was covered in the small cuts and tears that told any passerby exactly where he had been sitting. It was an unofficial sign of office, less obvious than the crown of thorns that graced his head or the red rose that bloomed in his lapel, the only splash of colour in his otherwise monochrome outfit. 

When he sat on the throne, he did not flinch. He tossed his leg over the arm of the object as though he was lounging on a couch, his obsidian eyes trained intently on whoever had presented themselves to him that moment. Sometimes he would lean forward, placing an elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm, not concious at all of the small ripping sounds that would follow the forward motion. 

His title, it was rumoured, did not just come from the seat of the kingdom on which he sat. He looked soft at first glance - skin the dark blue of the royals, lips plush, hair pin straight, motions full of grace. It would be easy not to pay much heed to the fact he rarely smiles. But it is not his physical form that was thorny. His tongue and wit was known to destroy emissaries, reduce diplomatic relationships to tatters, break hearts. His appearance was the rose - it lured you in, so you didn’t notice the thorns.

The Heart of the Kraken

The deck was slick with blood, seawater and slime. Even the most seasoned sailors wrinkled their noses in disgust, stepping over the still twitching tentacles and broken planks alike to fetch more water to try and shift the viscera. It was half practical, half a method of avoiding looking at the scrum huddling over the body of the beast. 

It was Good Thomas who knelt closest, feeling for the dagger on his hip. The eye of the creature watched him with wary hatred. While it had dealt a fairly sizable blow to the ship, it had ultimately lost. Now it would pay for the loss with it’s life. Such was the way of things here. 

Good Thomas took the knife and as though gutting a pig, plunged it into the kraken and dragged it down, steadily. A cry of disgust went up as its insides spilled onto the deck, a stench following it shortly after. Thomas seemed oblivious to the reactions of his cohorts, rolling up a sleeve and plunging his arm inside the cavern he had created. Eyes closed, he felt around until he withdrew his hand.

His fist was closed around something. He gestured for a bucket, putting his fist inside it. Slowly, he washed whatever he was holding, until it was revealed. The green gem was sharp enough to cut his palm, scarlet mixing with the saltwater. There was a mass in the centre of it, darker than dark, looking like ink. Good Thomas held it up to the sunlight, watching it glitter. 

“Here it is lads.” He whispered, feeling his comrades lean in around him, no longer fascinated by the body of the monster and instead drawn in by the promise of treasure. “This is the start of it. We’re gonna be kings amongst men.” 

The Desert in His Heart & The Storm Rider

Once upon a time there was a beautiful king. His skin was as dark as the nights sky and his eyes sparkled like stars. He was just and noble and loyal, however, he was not perfect. He did not love easily or indeed at all. He was not unkind, but nor was he accustomed to softness. And because of this, he was accused of not truly understanding many of the struggles his people went through. He could trace back his troubles. As a child, he had been cursed by an old warlock to love like the desert until he found an oasis. Now, it was well known that the desert in which his kingdom resided, once you left the capital city by the river, the desert had no such oasis. And thus he was doomed to be lonely forever.

There were rumours however, that you could summon an oasis. But you had to call out to the son of the storm god, who would decide if you were worthy of rain or not. Not a single person had ever been judged worthy of his blessings so far. Entire caravans had perished for want of a single drop. 

The kings parents had been trying unsuccessfully for many years to find their son a marriage. He had refused all hands offered to him, stating that he would only marry for water or for love, and he had neither. However, it was becoming harder and harder to deny his parents. They argued that if he was never going to love anybody, what was the harm in marrying someone he simply liked?

They gave him a date - two weeks to find the oasis he sought, or he married the Princess of the Masonry Guild. She had been his best friend since birth, and though neither loved the other passionately, they enjoyed each other’s company. This seemed fair, if less than ideal, and he set out into the desert for one last attempt to find the oasis, and so his heart. 

On the first day, a mighty sandstorm blew across the rolling dunes. He continued walking, covering his eyes and mouth with a fine scarf that cost hundreds of pieces of gold to make. He walked for many miles before coming across an old man with eyes like emeralds coughing and spluttering. The king took off his scarf and gave it to the elder, and walked on without asking for compensation.

On the first night, when the sun sunk below the horizon, chill descended across the land. He set up a fire, and as he was getting ready to sleep, he saw a dog with eyes like green grass shivering not so far away. He brought him close to the fire, wrapped him in his cloak, and slept. When he awoke, the dog was gone along with his cloak.

On the second day, he saw a green rattlesnake trapped beneath a rock that would surely crush it. Despite the risk of poison, the king used his walking stick to free the creature, and when it curled around the staff, he decided to leave it rather than wrestle it from the tired animal.

On the second night, he was cooking some of the supplies he had brought with him. A child with eyes like seaglass watched hungrily from a nearby settlement. He gave the child half and when he was still hungry, gave him the rest too.

On the third day, he found himself further than he had ever walked before. He did not recognise the curve of the land or the whispers of the wind. He knew that before long, he would have to turn back or be lost to the sands forever. 

Between two dunes stood a young man who seemed as much a part of the desert as the grains beneath his sandaled feet. His eyes were like fresh mint and his sun-kissed skin shone with sweat. He was beautiful in a way that made the king suspect that he was seeing things, that nobody could be as perfect as this. But he approached nonetheless.

“Youth! Could you tell me where I could find an oasis?” “I could.” The young man looked him up and down, clearly deciding something. “But it would cost you all the jewels in your crown.” “Then the deal is done -” The king began to take the crown from his head when the youth caught his wrist, eyes wide in surprise. “But sir, you are the king. You could order me to tell you, or have me executed, or a million other punishments.” “I could.” The king reasoned. “But these jewels are not more valuable than the oasis I seek. And I seek the oasis to help my subjects. And you are one of my subjects, so I am bound to help you.”

As he spoke, clouds gathered above, darkening the sky that was a moment ago utterly clear. The green of the man’s eyes darkened until they resembled the depths of the ocean. The sky crackled and broke, and suddenly, between the dunes, rain began to fall, slowly, then faster and faster so water flowed down the dunes and began to form a pool.

The king watched, open mouthed and humbled, turning to the youth.

“It is you.” “It is me. I am the son of storms and I have been watching you, my liege. I was the old man, and the dog, and the snake, and the child. I wanted to be sure you were worthy of my blessings. I know you seek the oasis to seek your heart. But I see no lack of love in you. You are not lacking. Go with my blessing to your kingdom and rule it with the love you have shown here.”

The king fell to his knees and kissed the youths feet, thanking him both for the rain he had brought here and for the rain he felt filling his heart. He walked back to the palace, shoulders back, head held high.

He found his fiance, the daughter of stone, and told her what he had discovered. He told her off the journey, of the cold nights, of the beautiful youth. He also told her how he could think of nobody fairer to rule by his side and nobody cleverer to keep him in line. She could take any lovers she desired, if she desired any, love whoever she wished to love, but he still wished for her to be his partner, his friend and his queen. He would not love her as a poet, but he would love her like the sun.

Joyously, she agreed. She did not mourn the lack of carnal activities or romance (truth be told, she had always preferred women to men besides) and she celebrated the idea of being bound to her best friend. Silently, she said a prayer thanking the son of storms for making her friend see how little he was missing.

They were married and the kingdom had never seen better days. They lived to be old and of course, to be happy forever after. 

1970s Ghost Ship

There were no billowing sails here. No swinging ropes or creaking planks. The shape the mist was formed of metal and paint. And it was huge. It brought to mind the whales that moved beneath the waves, enormous silent shadows. The ship left no wake, made no sound. 

Inside, the corridors were lit by an eerie red light, occasionally flashing. An alarm had been set off and never put to rest, though the sound had long since burnt out. Every cabin is empty but the beds are in various states of disarray. Clothes linger on floors, ash remains in ash trays and in one case, a bottle of nail polish sits waiting to be used. 

 The bridge is the interesting bit. Only the light of the stars and moon filtered through the windows, but the control panel was still lit up in shades of green. The radar blinked, the small beeping sounding like cymbals in the silence of the ship. Inspect the display and it showed multiple foreign objects in the water around them. If you squinted, made sense out of the mist, there was nothing there. But still the radar beeped its warning to anybody that would listen.

Salmon Earrings

She hated them of course. They weren’t her at all. But what did he know of that? They were pink and pretty and therefore perfectly suited for his wife. They had been married for ten years. She crossed her ankles, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the small velvet box in her hands. She supposed she should still be grateful. That she had a husband that bought her presents for no reason at all. That kissed her cheek when he came home from work. That gave her money to hire nannies and cleaners and gardeners and anything else she liked. That loved her, for all intents and purposes.

Why did she loathe him so very much?

Was it his niceness? His utter lack of edges? His bland smile, his blue eyes? He was like the platonic ideal of a husband. But that was all he was. As a teenager she had dreamed of torrid affairs, of sex after tempestuous arguments, of love against all odds. What she had gotten wasn’t passion, wasn’t even love. It was tolerance. 

She snapped the box shut with a sharp snap that echoed around the perfectly tidied bedroom. 

Fundamentally, she was lazy. Of course she could pack her bags and leave. She could have an affair with a wild girl. She could scream and shout and smash every mirror in the place. But all of that was a lot of effort. And for all she despised him, she did enjoy the comfort of her life here. Her background was not moneyed - she had grown up in a house with cracked windows and no carpets. She did not want to go back to that life. She didn’t care if that wasn’t how this story was meant to go.

She prayed for an accident. For him to be hit by a car, a heart attack, lightning. To give her a reason to mourn publicly and loudly then move on. Then invite the wild girl into her house to be her mistress. To live her life free of strings and obligations. To be her own person, to be in control. She wondered what god she could pray to for that because the christian one didn’t seem to be particularly forthcoming.

Maybe she could be her own god. Make her own fate. She could lose her benevolence. Enact judgement. 

The Boy with the Pearl Earring

He lounged on the couch, shirt falling open. His eyes were half closed, hair tousled, cheeks flushed with either heat or wine. For some reason the artist’s eyes kept flickering to the pearl earring peeking through his ebony locks. Eroticism, the painter reasoned, was all in the details. The slight hint of blue at his wrist, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the ring on his finger. 

He had known the boy for a little while, though he had known him by sight for longer. He was in the same bar every evening, in the same seat, dark eyes watching the door for any likely clients. He was beautiful, and he was aware of it, and his business was swift and steady.

Gio wasn’t quite sure where he had managed to find the courage to ask him to model. Not that he had ever had any trouble before. Sex workers were used to such requests, no respectable noble willing to take their clothes off even in the name of art. He was however, the first man he had asked, and therefore the first there had been a spark of attraction with. The girls, he was friends with. They laughed and joked the entire time, stayed for dinner afterwards, teased him with promises of finding him a friend to settle down with. 

This was different. The air was charged. They hadn’t spoken much, the man just counting the coins and positioning himself on the couch, though he had been amiable to being told to make adjustments so the light from the wax candles fell on him perfectly. He was hyper aware of his own breath, every small movement he made, how he himself looked. It felt odd to feel he was the scrutinised one. He was usually safe behind the canvas. 

The boy opened his eyes and looked at him directly. He felt afire. His eyes were dark, impossible to discern pupil from iris. Gio swallowed, let his own eyes drop. For the first time, he was in the presence of the sublime.

It's a Sin to Tell a Lie 

They arranged themselves in a tableau, the blonde twins curled at the feet of Miss Anguila, Hermione and Elsie in the straight backed chairs they all loathed so much. Hermione’s hands were occupied with some embroidery, though if you inspected it closely you could see she was making rather a mess of it. Elsie had opted instead for paging through a book on the native birds of the land, seemingly utterly absorbed in it. Every white dress was spotless. Every cup of tea was steaming merrily. Even Arthur, the dog was well turned out and calm, snoozing by the empty fireplace.

They were thus arranged when the policemen knocked at the door. 

Miss Anguila gave each of the girls a warning look as she stood, smoothing her skirts. The twins sat up, looking less like smug cats and more like innocent children. Miss Anguila paused by the door, took a breath, arranged a smile then answered the door.

She let a surprised laugh escape, raising her hand to her chest. “Oh, gentlemen! To what do we owe the honour? Do come in, we’ve just brewed a fresh pot of tea -” 

The two men stepped inside, removing their helmets as they did so. They stood out, like foreigners fresh off the boat. They were men in a land designed for women. Every trinket was made for delicate fingers, everything decorated with fresh roses or frills or cherubs. They glanced at each other, biting their lips, trying not to touch anything they shouldn’t. The elder began to make demurring noises, but the younger nudged him and sat in the offered chair, on the very edge of the seat. After a moment, the elder followed. 

As the mistress poured the steaming tea into cups and saucers, Elliot (the younger) finally answered her question, turning his hat with anxious fingers. “Strictly procedural only miss. We shan’t take up much of your time.” “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s a pleasure, isn’t it girls?” A chorus of affirmative twitters and eager agreements came from behind her, colouring Elliot’s cheeks a alluring shade of pink. Edgar, the elder, frowned at his colleague and leaned forward, taking over the steer of the conversation. “You see miss, a man has gone missing. A Mr Samuel Thomas.” Miss Anguila arranged her skirts and took up her seat, one of the girls passing her cup to her. “Oh, I do recall him. He’s the horse merchant, is he not?” “That’s him miss. His wife hasn’t seen him since Friday night, and he isn’t in any of his usual spots, so we thought we’d do the rounds.” “At a girl’s finishing college?” She raised an arch eyebrow but Edgar didn’t quail as Elliot did. 

“Well, his wife said he sometimes had business here.” “He shoes the horses we own I suppose. But the groundskeeper would really know more about that. I try to keep my own contact with such masculine business minimal. It isn’t becoming for a lady to deal with money.” She cast an iron eye over her pupils who demurred softly.

“Of course not. We never meant to imply - “ Elliot began. “Water under the bridge. Now, my groundskeeper has Sundays off, but by all means return tomorrow, or I can pass along his home address. He doesn’t live too far away at all.” Edgar nodded. “That would be helpful.” He drained the last of his tea and stood, replacing the hat back on his head. Elliot followed, albeit reluctantly and with much less vigor, trying very hard to stop looking at Elsie. 

Anguila showed them to the door graciously, opening the door for them to take their leave. She gave a courtsey to each of the men, who each fumbled something resembling a bow. As he took a step out Elliot remarked on the freshness of the flower beds and the corresponding smell of spring.  “Nothing like a bit of fresh turned earth.” Miss Anguila smiled. “I quite agree.”

Albatross - HDM

The sky promised rain. The sea promised storms. Harry leaned on the rail, breathing in the salt air. His skin stung a little with the spray and the cold, but the tingling actually made him feel more alive, not less. He was made for this, the feeling of a heaving ship beneath his feet, his palms warm with rope burn, hair thick with salt. He knew this to be true. 

The confirmation had came when Kess had settled. He watched her now, her wing tips brushing the waves before she soared back up, as far as the bond would allow her to go. She was beautiful to watch, her huge wings responding to every updraft, every breeze. He could feel her joy, her freedom, and regretted only that his human half did not have wings to join her. Occasionally she fluttered back to affectionately nuzzle at his neck or gently peck at his fingers before once again throwing herself to the sea.

He wanted it to be like this, always. When he got too old to sail, he would find a house by the sea, as close as he could manage. He would leave the windows open wide to let her out and the sea in. He would live somewhere where rain and mist were common. Where the wildness of the the waves was so close he could hear it. 

When they dropped anchor, he had a ritual. He would strip his clothes off inch by inch, discarding them to the side. He would dive from the side of the boat, the water would drag every worry he did have from his skin. Kess would dive beside him, and it was the closest they would experience to being one body. It was the closest thing they had to heaven. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THINGS

If you're going to have to trick yourself into doing it. If we ever got to the point that their culture prizes design and craftsmanship.1 It would take a book to answer that. If you see pictures with man-made things in them, it will automatically push you away from things you think you're supposed to. A recession will if anything make it cheaper still. And being a boss is also horribly frustrating; half the time talking to executives at cell phone companies, trying to arrange deals. It's a lot harder on stuff they like, 2 that the standard office environment is very unproductive, and 3 that bottom-up.2 And if, like most people, who are still in denial. Better how?

Blub programmer is looking down the power continuum, however, and I wrote a signup program that ensures all the appointments within a given set of office hours are clustered at the end of 1997 we had 500. That is one of the reasons I disliked the term Web 2. Within the office you now have to convince instead of commanding. I should be working. They notice that people who write them win Nobel prizes. But the first time, is that they don't try hard enough.3 There was that same odd atmosphere created by a large number of people have rejected the idea that succinctness power.4 One drawback of this approach is that it won't produce the sort of distribution you'd expect, the number of startups per capita in each. Our case is an unusual one.5 People who like New York, where people walk, but not, probably, than the offices of their investors.

The atmosphere of the average site in the late nineties. They're too busy trying to spend all that money to get software written faster was to use a more succinct language, and have a compiler translate it into machine language for you.6 In any purely economic relationship you're free to do what you want to slow down, your instinct is to lean back.7 Such centralizing forces make it harder for new silicon valleys are Boulder and Portland. When designing for other people you have to remember to do something in an ugly way to get the scale he needed. So some founders impose it on themselves when they start the company.8 That about sums up my experience of graduate school. Every programmer must have seen code that some clever person has made marginally shorter by using dubious programming tricks. The SEC defines an accredited investor as someone with over a million dollars worth of stock will not, as VCs fear, cause most founders to be any less committed to the business. In most American cities the center has been abandoned, and the answer is: not much. But this was less costly than giving in, which would probably have destroyed the company. Startups are very counterintuitive.

There's more to it than that. At best you may have a couple internships, but not as misleading as it might seem. Why did no one propose a new scheme for micropayments?9 So they never realized they were zooming confidently down a blind alley. If it didn't suck, they wouldn't be any easier to read, because the board of directors might be composed of two VCs, two founders, and one that it would be misleading even to call them centers. What we know of their predecessors comes from fragments and references in later works; their doctrines could be described as speculative cosmology that occasionally strays into analysis. He did the research that won him the Nobel Prize at Bell Labs when he started asking such questions. That's what compilers are for. And newspapers and magazines. Among other languages, those with a reputation for succinctness would be the ones to look to for new ideas: Forth, Joy, Icon. 0 conference turned out to be more specific than they suck or we'll work really hard.10

We did the first thing we thought of. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can, for example, if you want to do on the maker's schedule?11 And a startup is to get bought, and acquirers are less prone to irrational exuberance than IPO investors. Anyone can do this or not, that you were rejected by another several months ago, while visiting Yahoo, I happened to get hold of a copy of The Atlantic. I still have it somewhere. That is a fundamental change.12 And when they did, the founders could get nothing.

It doesn't even have x Blub feature of your choice. That last has to be more specific than they suck or we'll work really hard.13 Lisp our development cycle was so fast that we could hold our own in the slightly less competitive business of generating Web sites for art galleries. Answer: immediately.14 In principle anyone there ought to have been able to work on what you do enough that the concept of spare time seems mistaken. The other reason you need to launch is that it's such a risky environment. The best way to prepare yourself to start a startup and tell everyone that's what you're doing; even if you're never called on to solve advanced problems, you can expect to have a nice feeling of accomplishment fairly soon.15 And it's not just that the risk is decreased.16 At the time that this was the final state of things, began to realize it wasn't the last word I'd use to describe the way good programmers write software.17

Notes

He devoted much of it.

A professor at a friend's house for the future as barbaric, but corrupt practices in finance, healthcare, and then being unable to raise the next round. So starting as a type of proficiency test any apprentice might have done all they could just use that instead of using special euphemisms for lies that seem promising can usually get enough money from the rest of the economy, you can't mess with the buyer's picture on the side of making a good plan for life. While environmental costs should be.

That's a valid point. These two regions were the people who currently make that leap.

That is where all the free OSes first—A Spam Classification Organization Program. That wouldn't work for startups is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. I think the usual way will prove to us that the middle class values; it has to grind. They did better than their lifetime value, don't worry about the paperwork there, and partly simple ignorance.

But while this is not just that if you know about this trick merely forces you to test a new search engine, the second clause could include any possible startup, both of which he can be times when what you're doing.

Historically, scarce-resource arguments have been peculiarly vulnerable—perhaps partly because it doesn't commit you to agree. It's interesting to consider how low this number is a self fulfilling prophecy. It's to make it harder for Darwin's contemporaries to grasp this than we realize, because what they're going to get only in startups tend to be obscure; they may try allowing up to two of each type of x.

Mueller, Friedrich M.

If you wanted to have a competent startup lawyer handle the deal for the difference between surgeons and internists fleas: I should degenerate from uppercase to any-case, companies' market caps do eventually become a function of the causes of the most successful startups looked when they decide on the young side. But there is some kind of secret about the right thing to do good work and thereby subconsciously seeing wealth as something you can hire unskilled people to claim retroactively I said that a their applicants come from going to use some bad word multiple times. And they are so different from money raised in an era of such high taxes? Since I now believe that was a false positive if the public conversation about women consists of fighting, their voices will be inversely proportional to the yogurt place, we used to say exactly what they're doing.

In practice you can ignore. An influx of inexpensive but mediocre programmers is the case of the anti-dilution protections.

Even Samuel Johnson seems to be combined that never should have become good friends. Its retail price is about 220,000. Till then they had in school math textbooks are similarly misleading.

Since people sometimes call us VCs, I had zero false positives reflecting the remaining 13%, 11 didn't have TV because they are so much a great programmer is infinitely more valuable, and this tends to happen fast, like arithmetic drills, instead of uebfgbsb.

It's worth taking extreme measures to avoid faces, precisely because they had to both. Instead of making a good grade you had to pay dividends. And maybe we should at least a partial order.

The word boss is derived from the moment the time I did when I was writing this. For most of the mail on LL1 led me to do this all the combinations of Web plus a three letter word. In this essay.

This is not a remark about the smaller investments you raise them. There is no grand tradition of city planning like the stuff they're showing him is something inexperienced founders. There's no reason to believe is that you'll have to factor out some knowledge. When we work with me there.

Startups Condense in America. I'm thinking of Oresme c.

And the expertise and connections the founders realized. This is why search engines. I think lack of movement between companies combined with self-interest explains much of the canonical could you build this? Incidentally, the closest most people haven't noticed yet.

On their job listing page, they will come at an academic talk might appreciate a joke, they sometimes describe it as a kid.

[cherrylistic-blog]

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[violetsystems]

#personal

New York is probably good enough for some in terms of “putting yourself out there.”  They say if you can make it there then you can make it anywhere.  I’ve made it a habit every two months for the last year or so to explore it in the same meticulous fashion.  Same flight.  Same brands.  No sudden movements.  On a dimly lit viaduct off flushing I see the abyss reflected back at me.  Someone across the street wearing the same shoes.  What you put out into the world comes full circle.  And yet things still remain moderately the same if not worse.  New York has given me a lot of perspective in my adult life.  For years people have made me feel like I’m not good enough at so many things.  The idea that I can simply walk down the street and exist seems important enough to people out East.  Here there’s always some sort of judgement or validation that needs to be attached.  You can get trapped in a constant cycle of proving yourself to the wrong people.  Which has never been the case down here where I write the script constantly that nobody pays attention to.  In a lot of ways I see this as better not worse.  I’ve been as far as Tokyo, Seoul and Shanghai by myself.  There’s reasons I wouldn’t travel back alone right now.  When I travel by myself to New York people seem to gradually understand my motivations better.  I can’t help what I’m dragged around by or wander into.  I also am not as clued in as people hallucinate me to be.  Nobody texts me at all.  I have friends but I wouldn’t say any of them are close enough to know any perspective of what I do.  I find people don’t listen or tune out which is why I maintain these kind of love letters to the void.  I figure if you really liked, loved or appreciated me you’d want to know what I’m thinking.  I’m a fairly transparent person to a fault at times.  There are times when being open and honest has gotten me manipulated or worse.  My life is what it is and I make it so by working on it.  The people I lost contact with I question if I ever really had any with to begin with.  This space and writing in it has been the only really emotional contact I’ve had with people for years.  I’d be lying to you if I said I wasn’t isolated and alone most of the time.  I’m also not that depressed about it.  I’ve stayed fit by exercising in my home.  I made 14k gold in World of Warcraft from a random drop on the auction house.  I still suck at Hearthstone but enjoy losing anyway.  More so than playing card games in public for various reasons.  Every time I leave the house back home it’s like some weird aggressively social pressure to perform.  Everybody wants me to share my attention, my opinion and how I feel then punish me for it.  I’m used to that game and the rules kind of suck.  I’ve been doing that week after week for I don’t know how long on the internet here.  I wouldn’t say I feel punished.  I do feel included.  I do think me sharing my perspective does a lot of things.  I think you could get what I’m about at the very least.  Enough to be comfortable around me in public.  So realistically I’ve been putting myself out there for years at this point.  What’s different?  What’s changed?  And why am I not good enough for some people?

Money probably.  It seems like people with money think they can do whatever they want.  I’ve listened to too many Fugazi albums at this point to think otherwise.  I’ve worked for a non profit since the dinosaurs were first wiped off the planet.  I’ve had so many little side hobbies and art projects that weren’t good enough for people.  Wouldn’t make enough money to pay attention to.  I’d be more bitter if I hadn’t succeeded more in other things.  Since I quit the gym last year I’ve made so much more progress on my health.  I look way better than I ever have.  I’m still the same person inside if not better.  And yet people want to pop out of a portal of yesterday and catch up suddenly again and again like an infinite crisis.  I’m used to talking to people in New York.  I don’t really get nervous in street conversation anymore.  I don’t have any expectations on it.  I’m not trying to set someone up or weave myself into somebody’s inner circle.  I’m trying to connect with my people.  And my people are in the moment.  There was that meme with the Shiba the other day that hit me hard.  If you enjoy the time you wasted then it isn’t a waste of time.  If all these years have inspired me to become who I am now why would I regret it?  It is rough and thankless for sure.  Everybody knows how much less sensitive I am about all this now.  I’d argue I’d have to be inevitably.  The streets are like a catwalk to me that I greet with a cold, dead stare at times.  That’s what I feel in my head anyway.  And then people smile at me gently for no reason.  Like they know.  And my eyes soften a bit more.  Money is just money.  People like myself work very hard for it.  I work very hard trying to spend it more wisely.  I’m not sure I will return to New York until my birthday next year.  Not that I can’t afford it.  More so because I have enough clothes at the moment and would like to rest and stay warm.  Home isn’t a terrible place to be outside of work.  But people with money can be extremely invasive anywhere.  Look at how much they pry into my life looking for something darker to prove.  That’s how it seems these days anyway.  I don’t know that any amount of money will change the trajectory I’m on.  I do think about moving to New York often.  Then I think about commuting there instead.  I could always make more money.  I could always be in a place that understands me more and expects less.  Everybody in the Midwest needs to be connected.  Families, money and politics.  Chicago is one of the most corrupt cities in that respect.  And then there’s more to Chicago we’ve come to realize.  More importantly there’s me sitting at my kitchen table every Saturday morning typing love letters out on my surface.  Thinking about how I’m going to spend fourteen thousand gold in isolation over the next few months.  Who is living the dream now?  I’ve farmed gold since beta with the best of them.  I also nuked my account at the first expansion.  Oh how the mighty have fallen.  Bowing to the corporate whims of Hellish Blizzard.  Maybe that’s why Fugazi never made another good record.  The system is rigged to fail.

When I talk about keeping it real these days it’s much more in the Sega Bass Fishing tradition.  I’m not trying to start a maritime revolution or anything.  Unless you are talking about putting power back into the hands of those who don’t traditionally have it.  When you talk about a movement it’s always implied with me.  I walk alongside these concepts because I believe in them.  Freedom for all.  And people test mine in the process.  And I start to realize Freedom in America isn’t really free.  People are always trying to sell yourself back to you at a higher price than you can afford.  Make you doubt your path into the unknown by shaking your confidence and resolve.  Negging your plans if you share them out loud.  Standing in your way out of jealousy and worse.  People have tried to hijack my narrative so much that I’ve given up on whole sections of it.   Nobody cares about my music.  If they check in it’s to comment about my haircut not my artwork.  It’s vapid as fuck.  Like I’ve become some hyper intelligent Ken doll imprisoned behind a firewall for the better.  I realized a long time ago people won’t let me be me.  People want control over everything.  They have brands at stake.  Legacies to build.  Family empires and flows of cash to maintain.  Small little circles that have no vacancy unless you have something to offer.  And when my haircut shines back into the spotlight the same meat market mentality shows its ugly face.  Nothing has changed with me.  I still love the same people deeply in ways you will never know.  No one ever cared to read into that other than here week after week.  And in some ways my feelings towards it were allowed to grow in a very quiet way.  I’ve carved a really genuine spot out of chaos where I can speak what I feel.  People can twist it in whatever way they want in their Utopian vision for society.  But the simple fact is that I do not feel included out there.  So why do I feel so included walking by myself alone down Flushing every two months.  Imagine if I would have believed all these things people project onto me.  That I’m not good enough.  That I’m weird and a failure.  That there’s something about me that someone can’t put their finger on that bothers them.  So they want everybody to keep tabs on me just to be sure.  Someone who has never spoken two words to me or worse.  And then there are people out there who I understand care deeply with a simply click.  I don’t have to shake them down for proof.  I already feel the love there.  You have to have real love in yourself to notice it reflected back to you.  Real unconditional love is difficult.  But anything built on anything less is doomed to fail.  I don’t necessarily feel doomed at all.  Granted Sega Bass Fishing is an extremely challenging game.  So is running a mile under eight and a half minutes.  You know where to find me when you need me.  Just putting it out there.  Love.  Imagine putting more of that into the world.  I don’t have to imagine my love for you.  <3 Tim

[totoroses]

i found this lesbian survey and decided to fill it out!

Femme or butch? is this what do i prefer or which i am? im a femme and i have no preference in dating, i’ve been wildly attracted to both and any in between

Do you have a “type”? If so, describe it. the only nearly completely common denominator though my exes are having brown eyes? i have dated only one person who did not have brown eyes. i always feel safer looking into brown eyes then blue. i woudl say i have often gone after the romantic artsy type with good music taste and some kind of signature style about them, ironically none of which drew me to my current girlfriend who i believe is probably defintiely the love of my life

Plaid button-ups or leather jackets? leather jackets! i will swoon over smartly dressed gals in button downs as well as a chill gal in some plaid unbuttoned flannel but the two together make me think of a lumberjack

Describe your style. i usually go for one of two styles- softly dressed forest wanderer, or slightly sassy soft grunge. both include my doc martens, but one is more natural colours and old fashioned dresses and the other is sassy tshirts and 90sish thrift store finds like denim and dark florals

Describe your aesthetic.pressed flowers between the pages of a book on forest spirits, rose milk tea, silver rainy downpours, curly baby hairs, white peaches, a cat sleeping in a library, custard pastries, a circle of mushrooms in moss, opals and furry moths

Favorite article of clothing? my one forever 21 dress ive had since like junior year that i can wear without a bra and it has like a cool cross back i just looooveee ittt, then also my embroidered minty 1930s style qipao sort of dress

Favorite pair of shoes? my doc martens and green chinese embroidered lace up slippers

Current haircut? currently blonde (ugh) and currently my hair falls just past my breasts, the goal is to grow it to my bellybutton!

Any haircut goals for the future? i really wanna get on the thick fluffy bangs bandwagon but i dont think i have the stamina to put up with growing them out again smh

Describe the best date you’ve been on. there was this one date i went on with one of my high school girlfriends where we went to a bookstore and hung out and then stuck googly eyes all over my city on random monuments and street signs, and we also ate thai food and listened to music and it was still one of the most lovely dates. BUT my girlfriend recently visited me in taiwan and we went in a glass bottom gondola ride up a mountain and drank from coconuts and wandered through old streets and had the most amazing tea food with a spectacular view and it was heaven

Describe the worst date you’ve been on. probably the one where i went on a picnic with my first girlfriend who then broke up with me that same day and even though our entire relationship was so awkward and not what is should have been it still hurt so bad

Single? Taken? taken!

If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife! where do i begin! my girlfriend is a slightly shorter than me girl named lynn who loved korean variety shows, drinking coca cola, listening to cheesy love songs, and playing tricks on people (especially me). she used to be a major tomboy in middle and high school and date all the girls and get slapped a lot, as well as mess with teachers and play pranks on them and steal things from their lunchboxes. more than half of her birthchart including sun, rising, and venus are scorpio, and she wants to start her own streetstyle online brand but has not yet found a catchy brand name!

If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife? :)

Describe your dream wedding my girlfriend says if we get married we need two, a traditional chinese wedding (she is from china) and a western one with a priest since i am catholic, and i couldnt agree more. my dream wedding includes just very close friends and family, extravagant lights and flowers and a reception party playlist chosen by me, catered by the teahouse we went to in taiwan. i know its so silly and superficial but i want the dreamiest dress that i design, wisteria everywhere, and most of all i just want lynn at the end of the alter looking stunning in whatever it is she decides to wear

Do you want kids? YES me and lynn talk about this a lot because we both love kids and both agree on at least 4, no more than 8. and we will share who carries the kids so not just one of us is having our uteruses worn out

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? guilin, china. but its a fantasy. guilin is real and beautiful but chinese laws make it so that even if we settle down there and build a house it cant truly belong to us, and in china you cant have a private business and it jsut sucks because the drema is to live in the quiet countryside with a simple life and beautiful scenery to explore together and with our children

Favorite lesbian movie? i love so many but im gonna go with the handmaiden!

Favorite lesbian novel/story? i havent read nearly enough, but  adore all things by malinda lo and julie anne peters! ash by malinda lo is probably my favourite. i have to still read sarah waters though, i hear she reigns supreme

Favorite lesbian song? don’t pull away by milosh ft jviews (the music video is gay at least, i also love hayley kiyoko)

Favorite lesbian musician? hayley kiyoko probably

What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any? mmmm i dont like softball so that doesnt work...i read a lot of sappho though! and i have short nails? and love buffy? are these stereotypes?

Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal? ugh yes

If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that? write me a love letter or make me a mixtape about your feleings something cheesy

Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian? girls!!!!

Are you more of a cat person or a dog person? cat but i also love pups!

Turn ons? a musical wonderful voice i could listen to and listen to, easy and stimulating conversations, passion for something that lights up their eyes

Turn offs? rudeness in any shape or form, indecisiveness or feigning indecisiveness because you think i want to make the decisions, despicable movie and music taste, smell

Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you? mmmm in the past it has been pretty even. i have learned though that with women it really is a waiting game more than with guys so with my current girlfriend the tension was killing me so much i had to straight up ask her if something was going on and when she said yes she did like me too i was so relieved because she admitted to having not dated anyone since high school (5 years ago for her) and not asking anyone out while at college so if i had kept waiting for her who knows if we would have gotten together!

What is your dream career? i want to be a stay at home mom and author and perhaps an art teacher or preschool teacher on the side if the books dont pa the bills!

Talk about your interests or hobbies! writing and reading and drawing and singing and hiking and listening to music and watching korean dramas and making lists and studying languages

What is the most attractive quality a woman can have? passion, not necessarily in the sexual wya, but passion for something in general. like if she is an actress you see her on the stage and see how into it she is, and offstage she talks about it in a way that shows she is capable of truly loving something so much and seeing wonder in life. or a girl who seems quiet but then when she starts to show you the music she likes she closes her eyes and knows every lyric and has this expression of true passion and love for the music, i am captivated by women who are captivated by the purest elements of life from music to dance to nature

Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone? for women, i fall in infatuation quite easily. i was always more cautious with men of course and now i avoid them altogether. but love is something i’ve been becoming more conservative of somehow. i think because i was so hurt by someone before and gave and gave without receiving and im scared of that happening again. i have to be receiving love to give it, thats something i finally can control my impulses over and protect myself from.

Ever fallen for your best-friend? HA

Ever fallen for a straight girl? HAHA

The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?) heck to the no i couldnt make it past two episodes 

Favorite comfort food? macaroni and cheese

Coffee or tea? tea

Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above? none but i have tried vegetarian before

Do you have any pets? a chinchilla and a cat!

Early-riser or night-owl? night owl 

What is your sign? gemini sun, sag moon, sag rising

What is your Myers-Briggs type? INFP

Who was your first lesbian crush? my first serious lesbian crush was on a girl at my middle school who dressed to the nines every day in vintage dresses and sweaters and she flirted with practically everyone just joking around and always had a boyfriend but was just charming in every way. my whoel day would eb ruined if i couldn’t just see her or say hello once, and i thought i was just obsessed until i was like ‘wait what if she kissed me’ and BAM i knew it was a real life crush

At what age did you know you were a lesbian? im not really sure. i identified as bi/pan from freshman year to junior year i think, but then was realizing i definitely had a preference and didn’t want to be with guys in a relationship at all to be honest but even up until last summer i was really questioning if i was asexual, so its been a journey but i think i finally fully realized i am a happy happy lesbian after meeting lynn

At what age did you come out (if you have)? i was 14 when i first told my parents i was bi, 18 when i said im a lesbian 

Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)? just my girly friend

Talk about how your day went i worked this morning 7-11 after only sleeping 4 hours since i got hooked on ‘tipping the velvet’ the bbc miniseries, said goodbye to a friend, had school and did a presentation on how to make rosemilk bubble tea, i ate at a moomin cafe with my coworker, and now am working on homework and doing this survey and putting off my night cleaning duties eheh

Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future  i just want to have a family and to have my books published, thats all i really need. a loving wife, my sister still by my side as my partner in crime, so many children, so many stories finally told that people are reading. i really want to build a lovely house for my family like my grandparents did once upon a time, with secret rooms and unique hiding places, a house they can pass down as they grow up and it can have our lineage. i want to live by the mountains and trees and water, i want to be able to speak mandarin, cantonese, korean, japanese, icelandic, italian, arabic, and polish fluently

[paintedimagining]

Just out of curiosity, how did you learn to paint like that? Your paintings must cost a fortune! How do you get your commissions? I mean #goals

Oooo wow thank you for your question nonny, I so rarely get to talk to about my art so buckle up cos i’m gonna a looooong waffle teehee

I sorta came out the womb with a paintbrush and pencil in hand. As long as I can remember I’ve been painting and drawing. I did go to Uni and did a Fine Art degree, but to my surprise and dismay that actually taught us sod all about technique or anything like that etc. On my Foundation year we did a bit of everything like print making and sculpture, but once you chose your major for your degree (Fine Art for me) that was it. We did life drawing, but that was about it. They just sort of left us to our own devices, but I had completely expected, this being a fine art degree, that they wold teach us the basics of things like oil painting. I also had the misfortune of being the only ‘traditional artist’ on my degree so I basically had to teach myself. I was using acrylic and watercolour paint before, but when it just wasn’t working for the type of painting I was trying to achieve, I had to teach myself to use oil paint with a lot of trail and error and just not knowing what the hell I was doing or if it was right- and still don’t. So yup, I did a Fine Art degree but I am self-taught lol and kinda makes me bitter about all that money I forked out for nothing for those 4yrs at Uni. But hey, at least I have letters after my name and the right to call myself ‘qualified’ and ‘professional’. But actually, my prices are rather cheap for what I’m offering, as I feel I’m still inexperienced.Fresh out of Uni I didn’t think people would pay much so I had to drop my prices. The tricky thing is what your painting might acualy be worth, isn’t always what you can acualy sell it for with the art market so poor, which sucks- unless to have the fortunate of getting a huge break or move in artist circlesd with money with more money than sense- I recently saw a programme with this pet portrait artist like me that was selling work for £5000, and while I don’t wish to diss his work…but hey that’s the nature of art and his style and he’d lucky that he in in that sort of environment to be able to charge those sorts of prices for what he was offering. But it’s been 7yrs now since I graduated and so I’ve  been increasing my prices according and I’ve been consistently working with ready commissions for 4yrs now and even have a waiting list. I’ve had my own solo exhibition, I won a place at local art exhibitions, and was featured in a magazine that was sold at Cruffs. I even have waiting list. But I’m still ‘cheap’ and have to charge according to the market so I still get work, so sometimes I’m under-pricing- but what can I do when I have bills and still consider myself ‘new’ to this art game. But for me, my break that saw me get consistent commissions after years struggling right out of Uni, was aligning myself with various rescues and charities, and deciding to specialise in a certain area of portraiture once I realised that people are more inclined to pay to have their pet painted then their family members lol as originally I was a human portrait painter- and still am, but pet portrait his my ‘bread and butter’ while human portrait is my first and true love lol. But my way into steady commissions was that I happened to do painting as a gift for a founder of a greyhound rescue I adopted a dog from, their, offering paintings as auctions prizes to raise funds for the charity,then advised my art on their forum to get my name and work out there- and the rest they say is history. That’s the most difficult part as a young and new artist- getting noticed. So advertising and offering work is honestly the best advise, and joining. So I considered myself very lucky to be where I am right now and take nothing for granted. But it was very difficult in the beginning and hard work, but you just have to keep at it if that’s what you want to do.  I’m now looking into branching out and expanding, which is exciting and terrifying, especially when I’m in poor health and this kind of work is all on me with no one to help and no safety net. So yup, my main advice would be to have a broad portfolio of work to show your range (hell I’ve even designed tattoos for friends!), but to specialise and advertise yourself, so websites and cards etc. I even was asked to teach a fried of the family how to draw/paint. And as for technique (depending on your style) lots of practice and observation of the natural world and your subject matter. I did and still do a lot of study and research, and as I’m a traditional artist I constantly hark back and look at works by old masters to study and observe how thy painted and things like that… I hope that answered your questions teheee I waffled, I’m sorry. But I’d be happy to offer you any further advise or tips or a shoulder to cry on sweet nonny, or just to talk art- I’d love that :D