#this was a great little thing to get my drawing mojo working again

[buggachat]

blame @mari-monsta for this

(the post)

[quinloki]

Nothing particularly awesome happened today, Daylight Savings has messed up my sleep so bad I'm currently functioning on a mere 4 hours sleep. When speaking I can barely put words into a sentence but writing has always been my forte so hopefully this is far more coherent. Yesterday I tweaked my masterlists and organized them proper, so that made me happy.

No one really interacts with my stuff on Wattpad which is fine, because the exact same works are doing GREAT on AO3. My Arlong collection has been viewed over 240 times, has 11 kudos, and has received 2 comments from people. Rabid Devotion has 3 kudos and has been bookmarked once with only 50+ views, Better Mousetrap has 170+ views and 2 kudos, while Slinktober isn't slated to be updated/finished until July and yet it has 55+ views and 3 kudos. It has more kudos than Mousetrap and more views than Rabid. So that's happy stuff. And I do get views and likes here on tumblr, more so than on Wattpad—that's my worst showing despite being my preferred writing platform. Go figure.

Anyway, I thought I'd follow your little OC template you provided in your request post for good stuff while you recuperate from a trying day. As always, I am here to try and provide. Also as always, this runs egregiously long.

Tell me more about an OC? -:- if you've told me about them before: Do you have new art of them? Have you made new lore? Discarded anything/changed something?

I'm going to gloss over the fact that you asked about OCs and just focus on giving you more about Arlong and my self-ship Keiko. I am working on my OCs but I find them to be exhausting because I'm not to a place where I can create originally again, I'm still healing from writing hurt. I'm getting a lot better but the mojo just isn't there yet, so the majority of them have been indefinitely shelved. Especially the two snake-like OCs (Lon Lon & Modeus—though I did add a little more to him than her).

I have no art of Arlong yet, and I have NOT tried drawing Arlong in my cartoon style, though I guess I could now that I think about it. He'll look awful but I headcanon the man has no artistic skill whatsoever, so I could easily pass the drawing off as his handiwork instead of mine. I think it'd be funny if Arlong's drawing skills were on the same level as Luffy. He'd never admit to it because he hates Luffy which is why I think their levels in art should be equal.

Now that I know Arlong is a sawfish and not a sawshark, I have one more thing to goad him with besides being an amphibian and a separate species from the fishwomen. Clearly, I enjoy tormenting the man. This is, in fact, along the same vein of how we met.

I keep changing the official story of how we met until I can find one that makes the most sense. What stays the same each time is that Arlong and his boys are the first fishmen I'd ever seen. I also am functioning on my self-insert as having been semi-isekai'd (that's the trope where you die in your world and end up in another, right?). Except, I didn't exactly die. I like the planeswalking thing of MtG so I just work off of that more or less.

Anywho, I thought I'd share the story of how I met Arlong and how I at the very least piqued his attention enough to not get killed right off the bat. It started not with a hello but with a "can I touch you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a Touch

"Can I touch you?" I held up my hand to show I genuinely meant touch in a I-want-to-understand-something sort of way and not the I-want-to-touch-for-X-amount-of-berries sort of way. I mostly just pointed to his arm with the stylized fish tattoo to really drive home the point that this was a non-sexual request on my part.

The fishman laughed down at me, literally. "And why would I let a puny human girl touch me, a superior fishman?"

"Curiosity?" I don't know why I'm answering with a question, I am curious. It's not a question but the way in which he responded made me feel oh so small. Puny indeed.

He raised an eyebrow, "curiosity you say? And what is so curious about us, hm? We're not circus freaks put on display for you girl, get lost before I lose my temper and explore a curiosity of my own." The eyebrow fell as he switched from condescension to threatening. He stood straighter to punctuate that he was significantly bigger than me and besides being tall enough to probably step on me, he certainly could bite my head off.

I don't know why, but the whole exchange hurt. My hands fell to my sides, my shoulders sagged, and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears that were welling up from falling down. I hate crying in front of others and I sure as hell wasn't going to cry in front of this jerk. I lifted my chin to keep my head high, I wasn't going to let him bully me but I needed to heed the threat at the same time.

One tear did manage to slip down my cheek as I glared back at him before turning silently on my heel and briskly walking away. I didn't look back once. If I had, I'd have seen how he tilted his head to the side with an expression caught between anger and confusion.

I don't know what they were doing on the island, I'd gone to great lengths to ensure I didn't run into any of them all day long. Day turned to night and night turned to morning. A new day that I hoped would pass without issue. That turned out to be a futile hope. I had been spying on the beach since dawn broke, to ensure the intruders weren't there before heading down to look for shells or other odds and ends that washed up during the night.

I'd been traipsing through the sand for only about twenty minutes when I shadow fell over me and loomed for several feet beyond mine. Well shit, guess I have company after all.

"You now it's dangerous to keep your back unprotected with fishmen around. I could have killed you multiple times." Judging from the low rumbly voice, it was the same fishman from yesterday. The sharky one.

Keeping my back to him I answered, "I have no doubt since I'm such a lowly and puny little human girl." The word feels like acid on my tongue. Girl, as if I were a mere child and not the adult that I was. Just one more way for others to strip me of my own agency and keep me low in the hierarchy of life. I didn't feel so low before these fishmen showed up and within twenty-four hours I was starting to believe the lies people mutter as I walk by.

I heard him sigh behind me whether in anger or exasperation I couldn't say. Suddenly the shadow got shorter and shorter which did nothing more but make me curious about him all over again. I turn to see why his shadow retreated. The sharkman squatted down, now balancing on his toes and his arms resting on his knees as he undoubtedly scrutinized me. Even squatting down he was taller than me and I was not short by any means. Okay I was, but this is the Grand Line, everyone is taller than they are in the other four seas. In any of the four Blues I am tall but on the Grand Line I'm tiny and this guy was making me feel even tinier.

"I will permit you to touch me just this once." He stared at me head on with an almost passive expression. I have no clue what's going through his head or what his game is, but he seems calm and this is my golden opportunity.

I reach for the arm with the tattoo and hesitate for a few seconds, trying to anticipate if it's a trap or not. Deciding it's not I continue until my fingers touch his arm. First my fingertips because I don't really know what I'm doing or what I expect. He's not really reacting, just watching in silence. Meanwhile my mind is racing, why did he change his mind? Why is he so calm now? Is he going to kill me afterwards?

Despite my panicking thoughts, I continue my quest for my answer to the question only I knew. My fingertips move forward and my fingers are now fully connected with his forearm; my fingers gliding up and down the forearm then side-to-side. I trace along the tattoo as well. I'm sure he must think me insane at this point as this is clearly not normal behavior for anyone, human or otherwise.

He simply continues to stare and doesn't say anything. But I do. I furrow my own brows at the contact and quietly sigh under my breath, "well that's disappointing." I totally forgot whose arm this was. I totally forgot he was literally right there, could hear me, and that just yesterday threatened to kill me publicly. He didn't even try to hide his hostility. Yet here I am, insulting him, to his face, with no witnesses for my murder. Genius Keiko, real smooth. Way to keep your lifespan going.

"What do you mean, disappointing? What were exactly were you expecting little one?" I don't know if this was a step up or down from girl but I'll take it for now because he's not killing me yet. In fact, he still hadn't so much as twitched.

I, maybe carefully, maybe bravely—I no longer know where I fall in terms of adjectives and adverbs—look him in the eyes, his beautiful icy blue eyes (get your head in the game Keiko, you could be mere seconds from being headless and he still wouldn't have to move his arms to do it). "Don't take this the wrong way but you're the disappointment here."

I'm a dead woman. That's it, this is where it ends for me. I may as well just strip out of my mortal coil myself and hand it to him.

He raises a single eyebrow again, and with just a hint of mirth to his voice prolongs my inevitable demise, "how have I disappointed you?"

"Look, I don't know anything about fishmen. This island doesn't have any books on them and until yesterday I'd never seen one before. You're as foreign as foreign can get for me. Based on how the locals were screaming, you must be the shark. Yes?"

He finally smirks and has an expression that is semi-readable. Amusement. I'm amusing him. Well, at least I'm not offending him as that ends in death. Though amusement could also end in death but for now, I'm still breathing and that's a good sign.

"Yes, I'm the shark. Arlong the Saw and I am a sawshark fishman."

"Great, nice to meet you Arlong. Now, as I was saying, and again I mean no offense, but for a shark you're an utter disappointment."

Arlong, as he's apparently called, leans in close to me and it's only now that I see why he's called the Saw. His nose is razor sharp, all he'd have to do is twitch to either side in rapid succession and he could cut my head off. It's like he has a sword growing out of his face, I wonder what a narwhal fishman looks like? I bet they'd resemble a humanoid unicorn with gills. Focus Keiko!

"Could you be more specific, little girl."

That wasn't a question, that was a statement. He definitely took offense. I quickly retract my hand from his arm but he's faster. Arlong catches my wrist with his webbed hand, another feature I hadn't noticed earlier. He continued to stare intently at me as if he were trying to see my very soul. For some reason, I felt almost naked under his eyes.

I tried twisting my hand out of his grasp to no avail so I have no course but to talk my way of the jaws of death. "I truly mean no offense. It's just, your skin. It feels like mine."

Arlong narrows his eyes, "of course it feels like yours, it's skin. I'm a fishman. Humanoid. I have arms and legs as you do, fingers and toes too. Why would I not have skin as you have?"

Maybe he was getting angry or maybe I just really confused him. Might as well own up to my question. I didn't want to ask the question direct in case it was a truly stupid one, but now I either elaborate or I die what may be a very painful death. Though I must admit, if this man is what my death looks like, damn. Way more pleasant than an unknown creature is black robes with a scythe. This guy may be scary but he was also attractive. There could be worse ways to go if I had time to think about them.

"Do fishmen not live in the sea?" Not my question but now I was getting confused at his confusion.

"In a way. We live on an island that's underwater, why?"

"An underwater island? I don't know how to process that. That's beside the point anyway. My point is you have human-like skin but you're supposedly a shark. Shouldn't you feel like a shark instead?"

Arlong finally stopped glaring at me and burst out laughing, while still holding my wrist, though he did loosen the grip a little bit. He certainly wasn't trying to break my hand but he might have bruised it. "You thought I was going to feel like sandpaper?!"

I looked down at the sand, blushing from embarrassment. "Well yeah, because you're a sawshark." Shit, my eyes are watering again. I hate that crying is my body's go-to-reaction for nearly everything. It's partly way I live outside the village, one can only take so much harassment.

Arlong's laughing slowed and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. "You really haven't encountered a fishman before then. No, sharkmen do not feel like sharks because we aren't sharks. We're more akin to mammals just as humans are. We have skin and hair and our women give birth to live babies just as humans do."

I cannot lift my head, the tears won't stop so I just stare at the sand and listen to what is turning out to be a very educational lecture. Arlong decides to continue when I don't respond, "unlike humans we have webbed fingers and toes as I'm sure you've noticed by now. We have gills on our necks for breathing underwater and lungs for breathing on land. We command the water but even we have to be careful in the Grand Line. She is an unforgiving landscape."

I quietly nod in understanding. He finally lets go of my wrist and tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him through blurry, watery eyes. "You're very unusual for a human, you didn't fear us when we arrived yesterday. You approached with curiosity and a desire to understand us. No human has done that to me or my crew." Arlong proceeded to wipe my tears away as he finally stood up. "Perhaps we'll have another conversation on another day."

"Does this mean you aren't going to kill me?"

He chuckles, "No little one, I'm not. I only ask for one thing in return for today's lesson."

It's my turn to tilt my head to the side in confusion, "and what's that?"

"Tell me your name."

And just like I did when they first landed here yesterday morning, I smiled. "My name is Keiko."

"I look forward to tomorrow's question, Keiko." Arlong left me on the beach grinning like a smitten schoolgirl. I got my answer to my question, and while it was a truly disappointing answer—I wanted him to feel like sandpaper, I didn't die and I may have made a new friend.

I love Keiko - and I should’ve been more clear, but OC to me kind of covers any flavor of original character - self insert, reader type, OC as commonly referred to, etc.

I’m happy to hear about them all ^_^

I love this story! Her question, the progress of the tale, the interaction. You may make a fan of me yet (for Arlong, I mean, I already love Keiko.)

I’m just about off to bed for the night, so I don’t have much else to say, but thank you so much for sharing this, and please try to get some more rest too! Damn time change is such a pain >.<

[lifeofkaze]

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

***

Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. “Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

 *

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.  

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

*

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that  had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

  Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

[hadit93]

https://frater370.blogspot.com/2021/05/magical-approach-to-plant-materia.html

This is a short piece on how I go about selecting, procuring, and using plant materia in my own magic. I have posted it on my other blog as it may be easier to read. I will also post it below.

Magical Approach to Plant Materia.

Overview.

My approach to plants has been influenced by several sources, some of which I have listed at the end, however it is far simpler and less involved. This has its costs as well as its benefits. I know what works for me, I know what mythos I like to clothe my magick in, and I know what is personally important to me as well as what is not. Therefore, it may seem like my approach is at odds with that of other people, and it is, but it is not at odds with myself! Try my methods out alongside the methods of others, experiment, and see what works for you.

Dried or Fresh?

One of the questions that people usually ask first is whether dried ingredients- the ones you usually buy from metaphysical stores- are okay to use in magick. Yes, they are. But fresh is always best. The same is true in cooking as well as magick. Fresh herbs, especially those picked from nature by the magical worker, contain more spirit within them, more essence. They are also more potent in their latent power. Notice I say latent, in magick the magician can awake the same power in dried herbs and consecrate it to work in alignment with their Will. But fresh herbs will have more of this latent power in abundance.

Sometimes certain plant materia is rare, expensive, or simply cannot be found within your climate. In this case, I recommend first seeing if there could be a local alternative, and if not, buying dried from a reputable seller. Of course if one is making incense from plant materia dried is naturally better to begin with.

Preparation Before Going Out Into The Fields.

Before going out collecting herbs I like to align my Will with the universal Will and local spirits. So first I wash my hands and face. Then I will go to my altar and pray and state my intention out loud. For example, “I wish to venture out and gather herbs for the sacred work of x” I normally have an idea of what plants. I want, and so I list those too, however, sometimes nature surprises with you with great additional plants or alternatives. I then petition the spirits of the local area and offer some fresh water and incense that they may help me favourably.

I then pack my things. This includes:

A small sharp knife which is capable of cutting plants and small pieces of wood cleanly and with one stroke.

A small silk lined bag. (I bought some silk and stitched it to the inside of a small bag)

A bottle of fresh spring water.

A smartphone which has a map for safety as well as an internet connection which allows for identification of plants.

Collecting Plant Materia From The Fields.

Most of the time I see a plant I know and want to work with. Other times I find I am drawn to plants as though they are calling me. In this case, I get out my smartphone and get to work identifying the plant. I check if its poisonous and superficially check if it is suitable for my working. If it isn’t but seems useful for another working I make a note of its location and leave it for now. I will detail how I decide what plants are used for later.

Once we come to a plant I want to pick I kneel by it. I place my hand upon it or just over it and I communicate with intent, energy, and words what I want to do. That is, I ask its permission to be an ally in my work. I then wait for a response. This tends to be an inner feeling of rightness or wrongness, both of these feelings are unmistakeable. Other times the plant seemingly responds a certain way to the wind which causes these feelings to arise. It is truly a matter of intuition and cannot be taught human to human.

If an agreement is reached I offer the plant spirit water and then cut only what I need from the plant and place it in my silk bag. Do not let it touch the Earth as the spiritual powers may become grounded. I recommend you research beforehand how to cut from different types of plants for the least harm. I then take my finger, dab it in the spring water and rub the wound of the plant channeling an intent to heal. Once again offer a little water to the plant, and thank it for its sacrifice.

If an agreement is not reached, which does happen from time to time, give your thanks and offer a little water anyway. Either move to a different plant of the same species nearby, or search for an alternative altogether. It may be that despite a book stating one herb as brilliant for this use, the local nature spirits may have a better alternative for the working at hand. Either way, we must respect the plants decision.

Obviously, if you are collecting dried herbs you are simply purchasing them from a reputable vendor. Whilst we cannot offer the plant water and some spiritual power may have been lost due to contact to the ground, or because it is ‘less fresh’ we can still awaken the latent power within them. I hold the dried herbs in my hand and reach out to the parent plant or plants. I then give thanks and blow into the herbs with my own life force. This in turn awakens the life force within.

Consecration.

Prior to magical work I take the herbs and wash them under the tap and place them in jars. Each plant in their own. I then gather materials for my ritual. There are many ways you can use plants in magic. You can create magical incenses, tinctures, teas, charm bags, mojo bags, and magical oils. The idea behind most of these methods is that the herbs are consecrated to a purpose and work alongside other herbs and materials to form a sort of spiritual being, an ally to do the work.

If in a charm or mojo bag the spirit will have to be fed with energy or condition oils. The rule appears to be that if you make a charm out of degradable materials, i.e., fresh herbs that rot and dried herbs that lose potency over time you need to continue feeding so that the spirit still has strength. In oils and tinctures this is not usually an issue as the oil or alcohol preserves the plant matter. So regular feeding is not required. Incense is also not required to be fed as the fire releases the spirit essence when it is burned.

There are different traditions as to the number of herbs used, the time of feeding, the method of feeding. As a rule of thumb- if it is a short-term goal once a week is fine. If it is a long-term goal for a slow manifestation process or ongoing process once a week for the first month and then once a month thereafter, or whenever it feels it needs it.

Occasionally, I set up a ritual magic setting, other times I do not. It depends on my mood and what exactly I am doing. For example, if the Herbs I have are for something to do with love I will sometimes perform the ritual of the Hexagram of Venus and channel that energy along with my own into the plant. This also allows you to call upon the energies of Venus to maintain the charge of the consecrated item. However, this is not necessary, your energy, Will and the spirits of the plants are sufficient. It is a good boost to have though if say you are using lots of dried materials. Another good idea is to consecrate a crystal or talisman (something more durable requiring less feeding) with the intent of maintaining the charge of the charm bag etc.

But in general, I take each individual plant and whisper my intent into it. Breathing my energy into it and drawing out the energy within it. I then add it to whatever it is I am creating. I do this with each one, spending some time with each herb. Sometimes if I have an appropriate incense I smoke the herbs over the incense. Once the product is constructed I whisper once more and breathe three times. I then seal it. This is true of all techniques I use except mojo bags which have a different procedure, albeit similar. But not wanting to get into the realms of cultural appropriation and being cancelled by children who have no concept of magical history or practice I shall not state the method here.

I normally feed with energy infused with breath, however, smoking through pertinent incense is also satisfactory. I normally use plant magic these days in oils and tinctures and use them to energise other things such as talismans as well as my own etheric body.

If a product has become spiritually inert I deconstruct it and bury the plant materials giving thanks and permission to depart. I then leave another offering of water and cover with Earth. It can be nice to bury the plant material near where you picked it and give thanks to the parent plant and local spirits. However, this is not always practical and your own back garden is absolutely fine! Unless it is a curse in which case away from the home, perhaps in a cemetery or church is better.

This is my own simple method. I have done and sometimes still do more involved rituals. But I don’t want to share them here. They are quite personal and in some cases are family traditions. I believe I have covered the essence of plant magic in a simple way which can be embellished with personal flair.

How I select plants.

I tend to start with the basics, what does it look like? What colours does it have? What are these colours associated with? I then branch out into folklore and myths surrounding the plants- what sorts of things did the stories have about the plants. What have they been traditionally used for in medicine? This allows you to start forming a tradition around the plant, a correspondence around the plant within which you can plug your magical intention. For example, we know Lavender is purple, purple is Yesod- the moon. Lavender has been used medicinally to calm and induce sleep. Therefore, lavender is a potent herb to include in a recipe for dream work. It is that sort of thinking.

Luckily, many people have already done this thinking for you. Which is the purpose of the resources list below. Like I say sometimes plants will call out to you, it is ultimately up to you to find out how they can work for you.

EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that uprooting wild plants is illegal and environmentally irresponsible in the U.K. I thought I made it clear but if not- never take the whole plant, only what you need. Always research how to take from a plant without harming it. An app is okay for identification on the go but always strive to have knowledge of the local species first. Sometimes I assume I have made things clear when I have not.

Resources.

Ars Philtron by Daniel Schulke.

Viradium Umbris by Daniel Schulke.

Thirteen Pathways of Occult Herbalism by Daniel Schulke.

Hoodoo Herb and Root Magic by Cat Yronwode.

Sticks, Stones, Roots, and Bones by Stephanie Rose-Bird.

The Witching Herbs by Harold Roth.

Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham.

[starlightmeadowbloom]

The Animation of My Favourites; Cuphead

This is the post I would like to show you all, there are so many that I have to pick the best one. I thought Cuphead would be a good start since the Cuphead Show is coming this fall in Netflix which I’m so excited about.

🌈Roll or Die | (Cuphead Cartoon Rap Battle), full animatic

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWUsz7jT-No)

What I like about this is that it somehow show what it would look like if someone would make a music video with the song (the Cuphead rap battle). In fact, yellow-py on YouTube somehow made the best Cuphead characters when it comes to songs that inspired Cuphead. When it comes to ‘wake us up inside’ chorus, I just love when the cup-bros were facing the bosses who has yellowy-gold eyes as a sign a ready to fight the final round. The animatic looks closer to characters in the game, the best storyboards.

The video came out in 26 Oct 2018 with 4,118,151 views and 37K likes when I last saw it.🌈

����🎉🎵CUPHEAD CARTOON RAP BATTLE: PART 1 & 2🎵

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZT15vuD20U)

The final animatic for this was epic! I kept watching repeatedly like five times a day for two, full of colours and more details. It was definitely a legend for the game to have this fully made as a music video. (It’s like my dream came true.) I mean, each bosses rap their personality with no fear until the chorus hits which I find it like ‘okay, I’m ready for round two’. The song seems to be the best one ever with this fantastic animatic!

The video came out in 22 Nov 2018 with 125,131,358 views and 950K likes when I last saw it.🎉🌈

⭐Greedy Rough Animatic

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Umv6ZE2u8Qc)

Both best song and animatic ever! The reason why? Because it shown great detail of personality for the Devil (along with King Dice when the chorus ‘nowhere to run, nowhere to go’ played). This would be the best welcoming and boss battle because I’ve got few ideas for the future… Anyhoo, it would be great with colours but it still the best music video. Ichi-CooCoo on YouTube should give more credit to make it a re-animatic…

The video came out in 28 Jan 2018 with 592,365 views and 14K likes when I last saw it.⭐

🎉Cuphead the Musical - A fan animatic

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSmsT28J-WQ)

This one is very good because it add colours and details. Also loving the song that kinda sounds like you are in the musical theatre. I wonder if there going to be a proper musical after the Cuphead Show on Netflix… Anyhoo, the same YouTuber yellow-py has made a good effort for this animatic.

The video came out in 8 Jul 2018 with 6,931,247 views and 88K likes when I last saw it.🎉

❤Cuphead Animation (King Dice Song)

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG93ETV_OD8)

Someone who made this animation should give a lot of credit because they used FlipaClip which is an app that you can make your own animation. At the moment, I tried to do my own but this may going to take long. Anyhoo, GgBen animations did a splendid job for doing King Dice and other characters. I just hope that the YouTuber would be planning on fully colouring and polishing this in the future because for the FlipaClip is the best app to use when you want to do some great ideas of animation. Now, I felt like this would be perfect for the Cuphead Show or as a music video…

The video came out in 22 Sept 2019 with 27,988 views and 803 likes when I last saw it.❤

💙Friends On the Other Side (CUPHEAD ANIMATIC)

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Jt9MyksVYU)

Both of my favourite song and animation, again! I suddenly felt like that Dr. Facilier is my head-cannon voice for King Dice, or maybe Wayne Brady as King Dice! Although, I wish DeVillefor on YouTube should make a full scene for this because it looks so epic!

The video came out in 22 Dec 2017 with 339,754 views and 21K likes when I last saw it.💙

🌟The Other Side | Cuphead Animatic

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZb2vp8wtic)

I don’t know why but this is a perfect fit! I mean, imagine; Casino Cups! And that would have this song as Cuphead made a deal with King Dice so he and his brother would work with the Devil since they tried to find a job.

The video came out in 19 May 2018 with 30,180 views and 1.1K likes when I last saw it.🌟

♥♦♠���♔FINALE♔- King Dice [LYRIC COMIC]

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0U6GuWfoWk)

Zaraegis is the best animator ever! I like when she created comics and animations when it comes to Cuphead. I like ‘Guity’, ‘Don’t Mess with Me’ and ‘Crown’ but the Final is the best one yet! I even had some theory about this battle and that King Dice is one badass gentleman and the Devil regrets it giving him some powers that turned against him. I wish there’s something I could do to help her get her mojo back… I mean, like… The moment when King Dice shuts the door, and the info pans up to show him with that sinister smirk was so badass. It's got to be almost my favourite moment in the finale before it head to ‘I am the people’ chorus. I love the whole thing, from beginning to end. All the songs fit the comics extremely well, the art style is awesome, and I was incredibly invested in the plot. While it’s sadded me a bit that the series ended, especially because I am a bit curious about what C&M has been up to in this verse (especially because they are most likely going to notice that the Devils Casino is now owned by KD), this was still a great conclusion non the less.

The video came out in 21 Mar 2019 with 462,652 views and 12K likes when I last saw it.♣♠♦♥

🌹Me and the Devil [CUPHEAD FAN ANIMATIC]

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZROxzO58PwQ)

This is very interesting… The moment I saw this, my whole world seems to stop as my thoughts came to build even more ideas of theory about the Cuphead Show. I mean, it is a little fantasy of King Dice’s story. I loves the song with the drawing, it’s so perfect, by the way, beautiful drawing style. And I also can find very easily when I noticed no one seem to watch this music video…

The video came out in 24 Jun 2019 with 2,849 views and 172 likes when I last saw it.🌹

[kutiebug-kuddles]

Free Day! (Pt.2)

Platonic / GN / Mikey

Warnings: none

A/N: wahoo, part two baby. I realized as I was writing this that if I included all of them in one post it would be like a mile long, and I would only have one post out. So @kokokatsworld I hope you don’t mind that I used your ask for extra content, lol. I’ll tag you in all of them as they come out, so don’t worry!

Mikey groaned, “I’m so booorredd.”

The normally energetic turtle sat deflated, stomach-down on a bean bag, his foot tapping the ground.

“Have you drawn yet today?” You said slinking into another beanbag next to him. He turned his head to you.

“I’ve tried, but it’s like all my mojo juice is gone— Even a pencil feels like.. like one thousand pounds!” He sighed, smushing his face into the beanbag, “and I really wanted to practice some more today too.”

“Hmm,” you thought aloud, “maybe you just need some variety. What about baking something?”

“I looked through the kitchen. Someone -ahem Raph ahem- forgot to restock our pantry so there’s basically only cornstarch and food coloring left...”

There was an air of silence as you looked around hoping to lock onto something that might give you an idea. Hmph... what can we do with cornstarch and food coloring?

Like a switch flipped in your mind, you looked to Mikey who was staring back with the same wide-eyed expression. “Omigosh, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” You and the little Box jumped out of your beanbags and bounded off to the kitchen.

Within seven minutes twenty different colored cups of chalky, pastel liquid covered the countertops. Oobleck paint! The perfect idea. Easy to make, easy to wash off...

“Oh wait- one last thing!” He ran off, grabbed a handful of paintbrushes and threw them into the cups. And super easy to fling at your friends. “And now we’re ready! Who should we hit first?”

“Hey Mikey, have you seen my flash-y drive?” Donnie walked in absentminded, typing away at his tech brace. “I can’t seem to locate it- which is pretty ironic considering I designed it to literally fla- OHGOD”

Mikey whooped as you both pounced on him, slinging the paint and covering him from head-to-toe in pastel yellow and pink. “Oh come on, not again!” He groaned out, “You know pastels aren’t my colors!”

In his nonchalant-but-totally-not-regretting voice, Mikey said, “Relaaxxx, D. It washes off.”

You could practically see the veins popping out of his massive forehead. “Oh yeah, I’m sure it’ll just wash out of all the crevices in my DELICATE TECH easy peasy. So Easy Peasy that— that there’s not even a need for Lemon Saueezy!” The way his voiced peaked at the end had you and mike holding onto each other for dear life to keep from doubling over.

Clearing your throat, you walked up to Donnie and slung your arm around his tense shoulders. He was glaring straight lasers through your head, sure, but you didn’t care. “Jees,” you said to Mikey, “you’d think a guy who prides himself on his genius would remember to add a mess-proof layer, huh?” At this point Mikey was close to collapsing on the floor. He smacked your arm off.

“OOHKAY, that’s it!” He launched two paint cups in your directions. One, completely drenching you in green, and the other hitting Mikey square in the face. “HaHA. Take that!”

“Oh it is ON, baby!”

Before you knew it you and Mikey were crouched behind a turned over table, furrowed brows and markings painted on your faces. You can’t remember when they joined in, but you knew Leo and Raph were hiding out as well, ready to strike. Now, it was a war zone.

“We attack on my count, okay?” Mikey nodded as you both turned out. You held up your hand holding your brush; slowly your fingers lifted. “One.”

“Two.”

“THREE!”

War cries erupted from every corner of the kitchen, colors flew everywhere striking makeshift armor from pots and pans. You don’t know how long it went on for, nor how many times you were hit, but it ended with each of you exasperated on the floor, still trying to weakly fling what was left of the paint at each other. “No!! I’ll... I’ll never let you get away with this!” Donnie feebly reached out for a paintbrush only for the snap! of the smack of tail to send it flying.

“What did you do to my kitchen?!” Splinter shrieked.

“Uh.”

“Well-“

“It wasn’t me! Mikey and Y/N started it. See-” Splinter held a finger to his mouth.

“All of you will clean this mess up, now!” He turned, mumbling something as he walked out, “and the countertops better be shiny enough to see my handsome face in!”

“Way to throw us under the bus, Donnie.” Mikey sneered.

“You were already in the road, dear Michael. The bus had just arrived per its due course.” He cleared his throat, “... and also with a little bit of help from my ‘Everyone But Me Is Doing Something Stupid’ alarm.”

“Donnie!” You sighed, “Fine, let’s just get this over with.” Grabbing the supplies, you all set to work.

Mopping up next to him you said, “Sorry it had to end this way, Mikey.”

“Nah,” he smiled, scrubbing at a counter, “I’m having fun!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, besides it was both of our ideas, and we would’ve had to clean up sometime anyway. I’m just glad at least you’re here!”

“Hmm, I dunno... a pastel paint zone seems like like it would be an interesting change in décor.” You chuckled, “What a shame.”

“Well.. it’s not entirely a waste.” He flung his rag over his shoulder, “I think it helped get some of my mojo back, and I’ve got juuuust enough for one more thing!”

You finished up with cleaning, and frankly, it was due time for the kitchen to get a pampering. After chilling on the couch, you went back to Mikey’s room to collect your stuff to leave, but before you left he said he had something to show you.

“Tada!!” He held up a small banner flecked with pastel yellow and pink. On it was a drawing of you two posing victoriously atop his pile of brothers, heroically brandishing paintbrushes.

You couldn’t help but light up at the sight. “Mike, this is awesome!!”

“Well that’s good, because it’s yours.” He folded it up and tucked it in your bag before you could protest. “May today be now forever known as the day that Mikey van (Y/N)burg won the Great Oobleck War!” He saluted, jokingly.

You laughed and thanked him as you said your goodbyes, and that late afternoon when you got home you tacked up the banner by your bed. After all, what better way to start a day than to see you and your best friend taking on the world (or his three older brothers) together?

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 65 and 66 Subbed (Finalized)

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

Hell Kaiser Ryou! Chimeratech Overdragon

Since his defeat to Ed in the Pro Leagues, the life in Kaiser Ryou has faded.  But at the invitation of a suspicious promoter, he participates in an underground duel--duels in which, crucially, one risks their life to treat their savage audience to a show.  As Acidic Last Machine Virus causes his Machine-Types like Cyber Dragon to rust, the Kaiser is not only cut off from summoning any Monsters, but it causes him to take damage.  With each drop in his LP, an electric current flows through his body, exciting the spectators...

Judai’s First Dream Duel!

Lost in the forest, Judai’s consciousness starts to fade from hunger, causing him to reminisce about his duels thus far--taking down Instructor Chronos’s Ancient Gear Golem with Flame Wingman during his Entrance Exam, battling the then-Blue elite Manjoume and his V-to-Z Dragon Catapult Cannon shortly after his enrollment, battling Misawa’s seventh deck with the right to represent the Academia on the line, and his first loss in the face of Kaiser Ryou’s Cyber End Dragon...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*crashes onto your TL months late with non-corporate coffee*

And these two are finally up and finalized! Sorry for the wait, if you were looking forward to ‘em--as I mentioned in my post on Sunday, they were pushed back a bit while I did one final lookover on 1-64′s scripts and hardsubs so I could actually call them “finalized.” I’d started to get them out of the way while waiting for some potential editing help, then just decided to finish it after scrapping the last little thing I hoped to work on (I planned to break briefly after 66 to do these re-finalizations anyway, but the timing happened to work out).  More details there.

But leaving that aside, here we have a pretty popular episode in Hell Kaiser Ryou’s debut, as he’s pushed to the brink by Mad Dog Inukai after Monkey Monkey Mountain Saruyama invites him to his first underground duel. They do a really good job of portraying Ryou as having lost his mojo post-Ed, showing a realistic view of what the big leagues in sports are like when that happens to you and you lose out on sponsorships/etc, and so when he gets cornered and Saruyama drills into him how he never once thought of winning since that duel, wanting to just stick with his respectful dueling, a spark lights up in him and... well, RIP Mad Dog. (Also, s/o to Takeshi Maeda for really selling Ryou’s shift in mindset by the end, and to his dub VA for sounding similarly good, imo.)

66 is probably less popular in comparison, treating us to our first clipshow of the series, though 66 episodes in isn’t a bad time (could be worse, VRAINS jk).  It’s endearing enough, though--kinda nice seeing SAL again; Judai’s hunger-induced visions give us Chronos, Misawa, and Manjoume making monkey noises; and the duels featured were important for Judai early on.  I also like the bit of new animation as vision!Ryou follows up with Judai about respecting his opponents; goes with what I’d noticed before about Judai adding his Fusion Undone/De-Fusion strategy to his own dueling after losing to him. (also Judai making a signpost sweatdrop from his aloofness pls)

Part of the initial delay with these were the footage fixes I wanted to work on, as well as a couple visual translations here/there which were fun to work on.  Really want to thank @paradoxi-kay for their great work as always in helping to translate the cover of the copy of Duel Magazine that Judai comes across early in 65, and starting the one on Shou’s copy that I finished up.  List of everything worked on below the cut, as usual, if you’re curious.

Enjoy, folks! I’ve gotten some work started on 67 already, and my plan is to try and work on some double releases to make up a bit of time, lol.  I’ll be posting these two on NAC in the next couple of days along with the re-finalized hardsubs and scripts/DVDRips; while I work on getting 67 and 68 done, I’ll also start some work on prepping softsub MKVs (also to go up on NAC) for everything I’ve fully finalized, since it’s been a while on that front.

Fixes/Edits! (65)

As Judai wanders in the forest early in the episode, he comes across a stack of old Duel Magazines; the front cover shows Ryou and is an issue from his winning streak days before his more recent loss to Ed.  Thanks to @paradoxi-kay​‘s great work in typesetting my translation onto the cover I blanked (which I detailed here), you’ll see it in English in the hardsub above.  The translation was first applied to the close-up of the cover that comes after #2 below, and then I took the translated cover and made it its own image that I put into the earlier shot as Judai approaches it while they’re all still tied up (detailed here).  The text reads, “Exclusive!! Kaiser Ryou Marufuji / Breaking down his Cyber Dragon deck!!! / In this issue: / -Duelists Du Jour / -Pro League Battle Data! / -Reader-Submitted Best Duels! / -Strategic Attack Decks by Type!” (Really appreciated Kay’s input on “Du Jour” because my original translation for that, “Duelists Who Are All the Rage,” wasn’t as catchy, lol.)

As Judai picks up one of the older Duel Magazines and flips it open, we see on the back cover an ad featuring the three Phantasms--it’s actually an in-show ad for Shadows of Infinity (since the episode aired around the time the pack came out in Japan); I detailed the process in blanking and translating it here (shared above).  The ad reads, "The Three Phantasms Descend!" featuring Uria and Raviel’s names on their images.

As we go to the Red dorm as Shou narrates about the Kaiser’s slump, we see a magazine page describing what happened to him since his loss to Ed; I covered my blanking/translating this in the link shared in #2.

We then see that it’s Shou reading the page from his own copy of Duel Magazine, this one more recent than Judai’s featuring Ed on the cover, though it features the same SOI/Phantasms ad on its back cover (now showing Hamon and its name as well).  Like with Judai’s issue, I used the Japanese cover and the dub’s edit as reference to just redraw Ed and Diamondguy enough to remove Ed’s name; Kay had started the translation placement and I finished it up.  For the SOI ad, like with #2, I added in the dub’s edit in pieces, tweaking it to match the original image more (since they again oddly edited the text out or redrew Uria/et al weirdly to do so).  We do now see more of the ad which shows that the trio’s names are on each of them, the English of which I added.

As Asuka snatches the magazine from Shou to work on cheering him up, to be consistent, I also worked in these cover translations to the magazine as she lifts then curls it up, using the dub’s blanked Phantasms edit as a base that I touched up a bit while adding back the Japanese cards.  Detailed more in #2′s link.  (We now also see that the ad reads on, “New! Shadow of Infinity - On Sale November 11th [2005]!”; the IRL booster pack came out in Japan on Nov. 17th, 2005, a few weeks before 65 aired.)

Asuka then lifts the curled-up magazine into view in a close-up, with the SOI/Phantasms ad visible which I also applied my translations above to as needed, using the dub’s blank edit as a base that I redrew parts of to touch up and match the Japanese image more.  Detailed more in #2′s link.

As Ryou meets Monkey Saruyama, he introduces himself by handing out his business card reading, "Saruyama Promotion - Representative Monkey Saruyama;" as detailed in #2′s link, I cleaned it up using Photoshop’s Clone Tool, then slapped the translation on using Calibri as the font.

As Ryou contemplates attacking Acid Slime with his Cyber Dragon and Mad Dog Inukai taunts him, as Mad Dog then slides in on a split-screen to “clear his doubts,” there’s a quick frame as Inukai takes over the screen where there’s a gap between his pecs and the split-screen edge.  I fixed it by just drawing in the rest of his chest in Photoshop to fill his side of the split-screen.

As Inukai starts his turn and activates his Contingency Fee Magic Card, there’s a frame where, as he’s sliding his hand with the card into the shot, the card itself slides ahead in his hand before his hand does; as a result, you can see a bit of the background just under the card before his hand catches up to the card in the next frame.  I fixed this by just duplicating the first frame here over it in Vegas.

Two here--first, after Ryou has his Proto Cyber Dragon attack Clone Slime, as Inukai begins to explain its effect, there’s a quick frame before the shot goes from a close-up to a slow zoom as he moves where his neck vanishes (new meme format go); I fixed this by just duplicating the previous frame in Vegas, while also correcting one of his looping lip-flap frames so that the scar on his chin is above the shading under his lip.  Then, as Inukai goes into Clone Slime’s effect and the shot slowly zooms out, we see Clone Slime on his Disk in Attack Mode when it’s in Defense Mode right now; fixed it by placing a proxy in Defense in AfterEffects for a frame, then re-keyframing that frame to the zoom-out in Vegas to put it in place.

After Acid Slime slips out of Inukai’s Cemetery as Clone Slime’s effect activates, Inukai moves to grab it before the two Slimes switch out, but Clone Slime’s still in Attack Mode on his Disk; fixed by placing the Defense-Mode proxy over it in AE, then moving it as he moves his Disk and applying a brief brightness increase as the light from Clone Slime being replaced with Acid Slime grazes it.

As Proto Cyber Dragon’s attack approaches Acid Slime in a quick shot, the card under it in Defense Mode is reversed (the name box should face to the left to match how it’s placed on his Disk); fixed by first applying the correctly-facing proxy in AfterEffects and moving it as the shot moves, then masking Acid Slime back in over it, along with the light coming from the attack as it starts to shine over its card.

As Ryou explains Overload Fusion’s effect, just before it starts to zoom out as he then chooses the six Monsters he’ll fuse, there are a few frames I noticed where Ryou’s whooshing hair throughout this shot suddenly stops whooshing; I fixed it by just masking in his whooshing hair from the previous frames for a few.

As Ryou taunts Inukai about how his Acidic Last Machine Virus will bother him no more, Inukai starts to slide in on a split-screen, but until his split-screen has fully slid in, there’s no border on its edge; I fixed it in Vegas by first masking out the border once it’s fully slid in, then moving it in another video layer with his split-screen for those nine frames.

As Ryou explains Chimeratech Overdragon’s multiple attacks, we see it reversed on his Disk; fixed by slapping on the correctly-facing proxy in AfterEffects, then re-keyframing it to the slow zoom in Vegas for the 94 frames it zooms out in (phew).

One error that I hoped to fix but scrapped happens as Chimeratech Overdragon’s first attack closes in on Inukai’s Multiple Slime, where we see a Defense-Mode card under it despite it being in Attack Mode the way Inukai summoned it (and since he then takes damage from the attack); couldn’t quite figure out how to light up the floor I’d redrawn under it with the ensuing explosion, and had sought a bit of help to get it right but ultimately that fell through. (Incidentally, not only did the dub not catch this as they dubified its card, but they reversed the card, at that, lol.)

Fixes/Edits! (66)

(Note: These are all flashback-related, and I detailed most of them [including a few new ones] in my post from Sunday that I linked just under the summaries; I went on to apply the fixes I’d applied in 66 to the respective episodes, so I’ll be brief here.  Reinserted fixes from a while back are in italics.)

(Episode 1 Flashback) I reinserted the fix I did to replace the blank Normal Monster on Judai’s Disk in Flame Wingman’s spot with its card as Antique Gear Golem crashes onto Chronos.  [Ep. 1 Flashback End]

(Episode 22 Flashback) As Misawa attacks with Litmus Death Swordsman to start his flashback, I reinserted the fix I did to detail the blank cards on his Disk with Diamond Dragon and Litmus Death.

As Misawa finishes explaining Wingbeat of Giant Dragon’s effect and it zooms out to Litmus Death, I reinserted my fix to his reversed card on Misawa’s Disk to flip it right-side-up.

Reinserted my fix to the repeat of #3 as Skyscraper fades.

Reinserted my fix to another repeat as Misawa explains Spirit Barrier’s effect.

R-R-Reinserted my fix to the r-r-repeat again as we see Misawa’s Disk while Judai explains Cyclone Boomerang’s effect (gotta love reused animation!) [Ep. 22 Flashback End]

(Episode 4 Flashback) As Judai prods Manjoume into choosing a card from his hand for A Hero Appears’s effect, I fixed Manjoume’s blazer looking semi-faded for a frame on his split-screen.

As Judai’s LP take a hit from V-to-Z destroying Burstlady, I fixed the four frames where the upper part of his Disk is missing the little bottom part that extends out a bit and Judai’s vanishing Disk wrist grip.

A bit complex, but I fixed Judai’s briefly-still-missing-then-vanishing-again wrist grip, the shading near his Cemetery slot, Judai’s arm becoming part of his Disk, and his wrist grip suddenly consuming his whole wrist. (Detailed in that Sunday post)

Reinserted my fix to the Attack-Mode Winged Kuriboh on Judai’s Disk to put it in Defense Mode as he discards two to activate Evolutionary/Transcendent Wings.

As Judai swings his arm around telling Winged Kuriboh LV10 to “send [V-to-Z’s] energy right back” at Manjoume, I reinserted my fix to put its Defense-Mode card in the spot on his Disk colored like the Monster Zone it’s on for a few frames.

A bit complex again recycling the Judai shot in #9, but I fixed his again-vanishing Disk wrist grip and half-Disk arm, his wrist grip suddenly consuming his whole wrist again, and his yet-again-vanished wrist grip, miscolored undershirt, and his half-Disk elbow while restoring some previous detail to his Disk. (Detailed in that Sunday post)

As Judai summons Featherman–to Shou and Chronos’s surprise–and has him lunge at Manjoume for the finisher, I reinserted my fix to keep the black faraway box that is Featherman on his Disk both as those two slide in on split-screens and as they slide back out. [Ep. 4 Flashback End]

(Episode 8 Flashback) I reinserted my fix to remove Featherman from Judai’s Disk as his LP drop from Cyber Dragon destroying it.

Reinserted my fix to a repeat of #14 as Judai’s excited about Ryou’s Time Capsule.

As Judai draws for his turn, I added a Fusion card over the dark-orange rectangle briefly in his hand as he draws it.

After Judai’s first hit on him, I fixed the error as Ryou Special-Summons another Cyber Dragon as a Monster in face-down Defense Mode on his second Monster Zone (detailed in that Sunday post).

Reinserted my fix adding Cyber Twin Dragon to Ryou’s Disk over a yellow rectangle.

As the screen zooms in on Judai after Ryou declares Cyber Twin’s attack, I added Thunder Giant to Judai’s third Monster Zone, then reinserted my previous fix adding it as it zooms back out while Judai uses A Hero Appears.

Reinserted my fix adding a few quick lip flaps to Judai as he says, “Partner,” out loud.

As Judai thinks about how Evolutionary Wings would evolve his Winged Kuriboh and we then see Bubbleman on his field, I added a missing Bubbleman card to his Disk.

Right after #21, I revised my previous fix to replace the Defense-Mode Mudballman on his Disk with an Attack-Mode Bubbleman, after I accidentally put it in Defense Mode before.

As Ryou grabs Power Bond from his hand before activating it, I reinserted my fix adding Ryou’s two missing Cyber Dragons to his Disk and then one over the blank Normal Monster card in his left hand.

As Ryou slips Power Bond into his Disk, I reinserted my fix adding those two missing Cyber Dragons onto his Disk.  [Ep. 8 Flashback End]

For the Ep. 67 preview, I added my translation of the notice left on the Red dorm by Napoleon which I’ll be using in the episode proper.

[artificialqueens]

times being what they are (crystal x gigi) - Cupid

orpheus and eurydice lesbian au!

a/n hi so this has so many greek mythology references and i tried to explain each god as much as i could but i didn’t want to turn it into a factfile and draw the story away from the queens, but i hope you still get it. but basically this is the story of orpheus & eurydice but it is crystal & gigi. there are also a lot of song references to the hadestown musical but it’s okay if you don’t know them too cause all they add to the story is poetics lmao.

…

Crystal had practically been raised by the gods. Her mother was a muse, and muses were infamous for abandoning those close to them; leaving with no return. The innocent brunette was left to fend for herself in life, living in the many stretched out meadows across Thrace. Although she often felt lonesome, there was nowhere she wanted to be more than Greece. Living there was like a paradise, only she wished she had someone to live in it with.

As she grew up, the gods gave her strength. The great God Apollo gifted her with a lyre on her sixteenth birthday. Confused as to what it was, the God assisted her by showing her how to pluck each string to create a pleasing melody. Crystal became quickly enticed. The instrument never left her grasp from then on.

After being gifted the lyre, she discovered her ability to charm the animals and make the trees dance around like a gentle wind was being swept through them. However, there was no real ‘gentle wind.’ It was either blazing hot or freezing cold, with no in-between. It had been years since Crystal recalled seeing a spring or fall. What she wanted most in the world was to strum a song so beautiful and powerful, spring would come again. Unfortunately, that dream came with a slight naiveness to the ways of the world. Many would say she wore her heart upon her sleeve.

When she was eighteen, she met Hermes, the great messenger of the Olympian Gods. He liked Crystal’s way of seeing things, so he took her under his wing. The God had heard her melody and recognized it. It was an old song of love from long ago. It told the story of the love between the great Gods Hades and Persephone. It was their relationship that messed up the seasons, and instantly Hermes knew that only Crystal had the capacity to bring the seasons back to normal. She had a way with words, and she sang like a bird upon a line.

Crystal was yet to finish the song, but when it was done, it would bring the seasons back into full bloom, bringing peace to the world and returning it to its rightful state.

She and Hermes stumbled into a bar one night, not long after Crystal’s twenty-first birthday. She was anxious, as she still had not finished her tune.

“It’s okay, Crystal. You have all the time in the world,” Hermes comforted, leaning against the bar counter in a cool manner.

“I just want to help the people,” she replied softly.

“I know you do.”

…

Gigi was a hungry young girl - a runaway from everywhere she’d ever been. She was no stranger to the world, but she never stayed anywhere long enough for anyone to catch her name. Nobody owned her, nobody knew her, and if someone would ever so much as think they recognized her, it was her time to flee. It wasn’t that she was running from an enemy, but she was running from intimacy, as well as the fatal changes in weather that always seemed to take a turn on her.

She felt helpless most of the time. The poor blonde yearned to see a flower bloom, for she heard that is what happened during spring. But instead, all she saw was hunger and hardship, no matter where she went. The only friends she ever had either died of starvation or turned on her just like the wind. She had concluded that, in the end, she was better off alone.

Something curious about the girl was that all her life, she had been followed by a chorus of three women - the Fates. They watched over her as if they were waiting for something to happen. Wherever it was the young girl went, the three women followed close behind.

Gigi struggled to find a purpose. She would sit in bars alone, dreaming of a belly full of food and a bed she could fall into where the weather wouldn’t follow her.

It was yet another blistering night when she found herself reeling in the bitter taste of alcohol to feel something. The bar was dark, and there was no music - just a low hum of chatter between groups of friends. She didn’t bother to look at the people surrounding her in case she accidentally made eye contact.

…

Crystal was only on her second drink when she spotted a young woman across the bar, sitting by a round table and drinking alone. She had dark blonde hair with streaks of gold throughout. Her hair was long and wavy, but it had been tucked under the collar of her large, heavy-looking trench coat. Her neck was covered by a red paisley scarf - much like the one Crystal had around her own neck. She seemed to sink her solemn-looking face into it, and Crystal was overwhelmed with her beauty. The woman was a nymph, which seemed to explain her elegant looks and relaxing presence.

“You aren’t the most discreet,” Hermes smirked, nudging the girl and causing her drink to splash around.

“I can’t help it,” Crystal sighed, “Look at her. Isn’t she ethereal?”

The God smiled and cast a quick glance in the girl’s direction. Crystal had a point. “You wanna talk to her?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

Hermes watched as Crystal pushed her seat back, adjusting the buttons on her cream-colored shirt. “Crystal,” he stopped her briefly before she went ahead.

“Yes?”

“Don’t come on too strong.”

The brunette nodded, tugging on one of her tight curls subconsciously as she approached the pretty woman. Right before she sat down, the woman raised her head to shoot a glance at her. She looked amused in an ‘I feel so bad for you right now’ kind of look. Crystal brushed it off.

“Come home with me,” the brunette rushed out, and the woman squinted her eyes instantly, though she seemed unphased.

“Who are you?” she snorted.

“The girl who’s going to marry you,” she swallowed, “I’m Crystal.”

The woman then shot a glance to Hermes who was watching the conversation with a hand cupped over his mouth, trying to hold back pathetic laughter.

“Is she always like this?” the woman inquired.

“Yes,” he responded with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, turning back to Crystal and giving her a pale, slender hand, waiting for her to shake it, “I’m Gigi.”

“Your name is like a melody.”

“A singer?” Is that what you are?”

Crystal felt a blush creep across her face, “I also play the lyre.”

“Oh, a liar and a player too,” Gigi deadpanned, her expression making it hard to differentiate whether or not she was being serious or not, “I’ve met too many people like you…”

“Oh no! I’m not like that…”

Hermes cut in, “She’s not like anyone you’ve met,” both girls turned to look at him, taken aback, “Tell her what you’re working on.”

Crystal nodded quickly, trying to gain all the confidence back from before. Perhaps she had lost her mojo. Perhaps her charm wasn’t as great as Hermes had hyped it up to be.

“I’m working on a song,” she stammered, “It isn’t finished yet, but when it’s done, and when I sing it, spring will come again!”

Gigi was in disbelief. Spring was all she wanted. All these years she had tried to find a way to bring the weather back to how it was before, so there was no way this scrawny little girl’s vocal cords could possibly do the trick. Albeit, the girl was extremely pretty. So much so that she stuck out among others. Out of place yet so, so right. “Come again?” - was all she could think to say.

“Spring will come.”

“When? I haven’t seen or fall since,” she scoffed, “Well, I can’t even remember.”

“That’s what I’m working on,” Crystal asserted, the passion in her voice making it difficult for Gigi not to beam with hope and joy, “A song to fix what’s wrong - to fix what’s broken and make it whole. A song so beautiful, it brings the world back into tune… back into time… and all the flowers will bloom,” she placed a tanned hand over Gigi’s, “When you become my wife.”

Gigi glanced at Hermes once more, her eyes widening, “Oh she’s crazy. Why would I become her wife?”

Hermes folded his arms and shrugged, “Maybe because she’ll make you feel alive.”

Now it was the blonde’s turn to feel her face heat up. Although she had been living for twenty-one years, surviving through many obstacles, she had never truly felt alive. She looked at Crystal - really looked at her - and saw the slight quiver of her lips, as if she were going to burst into tears if Gigi didn’t accept her offer. She was so insanely gorgeous, she made Gigi want to throw away the ability to say no, but that didn’t stop the blonde from teasing her a bit.

“Alive…” Gigi raised a brow, “That’s worth a lot. Do you have your lyre? I want you to play me this song, if it means ‘spring will come again.’”

“It isn’t finished yet.”

“Sing it. You wanna take me home?”

“Yes.”

“Then sing the song.”

Hermes floated over, gently passing the lyre that seemed to appear out of nowhere to Crystal. He then led the two women outside, to where the lakes ahead were frozen over for miles. Furthermore; Crystal began to strum.

The song started off tame, with the mere plucking of three of the golden strings, but then Gigi began to feel a feeling of warmth when Crystal began to sing. There were no real words - just a melody of la la las - but soon enough, somehow, the fates began to join in. They all harmonized together in an almost hypnotic chorus, and Gigi felt faint when she saw the glowing sun appear from behind the clouds, the green grass appear from under the snow, and the trees begin to sway with the rhythm of the tune.

It was over too fast, and Gigi’s feeling of Euphoria was short-lived, but still, she felt blown away.

“How’d you do that?”

“I don’t know. The song’s not finished, though.”

“Even so, it can do this,” she breathed, experiencing a feeling of floating as she pointed at the small snowdrop buds appearing through the damp grass. “You have to finish it.”

“Well,” Hermes grinned, “I’ll leave you to it,” and with that he glided away, leaving the songbird and lone wolf alone, in the middle of nowhere, outside a run-down bar.

Gigi bit her lip and reached forward, connecting her leather fingerless gloved hand to the shorter girl’s. Crystal looked up at her with desperation and promise in her eyes, intertwining their fingers and holding her close.

The brunette scrunched up her nose, presenting one of the cutest faces Gigi had ever witnessed, before speaking, “So…” her gaze moved to Gigi’s full lips, which the blonde had just dampened with her tongue, “Can I take you home now?”

“Shut up,” Gigi rushed out, grabbing Crystal by the tatty collars of her white button-up, pulling her closed and pressing their lips together. They both knew what was going to happen moments before it did. And to Crystal, those few moments of tension and anticipation were an eternity.

Gigi never wanted the beauty of the kiss to end, so she closed her eyes and let her vision fall into darkness. It wasn’t the terrifying kind that she experienced day-by-day - it was comforting. Their lips moved together gently, a tentative dance to them. Gigi’s hands became tangled in Crystal’s mullet as she immersed herself deeper into the kiss. Crystal’s hands ducked under the blonde’s jacket, feeling the soft cotton of her vest below. Her hands moved upward, towards her breast, and smirked against her lips at the lack of bra. Their tongues began to dance together slowly, like a waltz, and Crystal melted into it.

Unfortunately for them both, it simply couldn’t last forever. They pulled away after five minutes of electronic touching, and Crystal was lost for breath.

“Will you come home with me?” she asked for the last time that night.

“Of course,” Gigi simpered.

“And will you marry me?”

“Depends how good you make me feel tonight.”

And oh boy, she made her feel infinite.

…

After weeks of planning and falling in love with one another, the day of their wedding finally came. The day was bright and clear, and both girls dressed up in white lace gowns that their local seamstress had begun working on the day their marriage was announced.

Crystal was rubbing red berries on her lips to tint them when Gigi walked in, hands clasped behind her back as if she were holding something. The brunette looked at her wife-to-be through the mirror with curiosity.

“What is that?” she asked, excitement bubbling up inside her. The wedding nerves left her feeling like she was tipsy from alcohol, despite not having drunk anything yet.

“Persephone gifted it to me to give to you…” Gigi smiled, tugging on her lower lip. She showed Crystal what was in her hands, and the brunette gasped instantly.

It was a delicately woven flower crown with many different colors and meanings. Crystal had never seen such beauty, and now it was hers. She didn’t want to touch it in case she broke it, but Gigi still approached her from behind and carefully placed it over her head. The brunette admired the variety of flowers in the crown; white camellias, red chrysanthemums, pink gloxinias, calla lilies, red poppies, and orchids.

“It’s so beautiful,” she sighed, inhaling the many scents of the beautiful flowers.

“It suits you,” Gigi grinned, gently squeezing her shoulders, “My future wife.”

“Tell me what they all mean.”

“Alright.”

Gigi softly twirled a few of Crystal’s curls around her finger as she explained the symbolism behind each flower.

“The white camellias mean ‘you’re adorable,’ which is quite self-explanatory, the red chrysanthemums mean I love you, because I do. You are the only person I have ever loved and I- well I didn’t think I could feel such strong affection for someone but, for once, I have been proven wrong. The gloxinias mean love at first sight, because I believe that’s what I experienced. When you first spoke to me… I had this overwhelming sensation that I had never felt before, and I think that was Aphrodite telling me that this was love. The calla lilies mean beauty, because that’s what you possess, and the red poppies mean pleasure.”

Crystal blushed and bit her lip, trying to contain a laugh, as well as a tear.

“And orchids are the full package. They mean love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady, and they’re a Chinese symbol for fertility, because someday, I want to start a family with you.”

The brunette leaned her head back - though still wary of the precious crown on her head - and sniffled, “I love you.”

Gigi wrapped her arms around her lover’s neck, pecking a gentle, barely-there kiss on the back of her head, “I know you do baby. Now, let me go put a ring on your finger.”

They walked hand in hand outside, into the grassy meadow filled with townspeople there to celebrate the two lovebirds. A choir of muses sang as they walked down the aisle, petals being thrown at them by the children of their neighbors. The weather was just right that day, the grass was green and damp beneath their bare feet, and the sky was blue - much like Gigi’s blue eyes.

They exchanged vows, as any couple would, and Hymanios, the god of marriage, blessed the day.

“You may kiss the bride,” he said joyfully, and the two girls squealed in excitement as they pulled one another in, whispering ‘I love yous’ as well as other sweet nothings against one another’s lips, inaudible to their audience.

The two of them had been lonesome for so long to the point that they didn’t even know they were lonely, but when they took each other in their arms, suddenly there was sunlight all around them. The world seemed so bright and warm, and it shone like it never did before. And - just for a moment - they forgot how dark and cold it could get.

“Say that you’ll hold me forever, and the wind won’t change on us,” Crystal mumbled against her wife’s lips, “Say it will always be like this.”

A tear made its way down the taller woman’s cheek, as she raised her slender hand to cup the softness of Crystal’s cheekbone, “I’m gonna hold you forever, and the wind will never change on us. As long as we stay with each other, then it will always be like this.”

Not long after, the newlyweds presented their great feast to fill the bellies of the starving townspeople. Ambrosia, the god of food and drink blessed them with it, allowing them to eat and have peace - something which they didn’t get to experience often.

They feasted, they sang, they told stories and filled their surroundings with laughter and gaiety, until the sky grew dark, and the townspeople dispersed. They left Gigi and Crystal alone, sitting together at the large table, starry-eyed. They remained like that for an hour, Crystal braiding her wife’s hair and peppering kisses along her neck until it began to get chilly, and they knew it was time to go.

To reach home, the couple would have to take a route through a small woodland forest at the corner of town. They held hands as they walked, and Gigi was fascinated with each animal she saw pass through the bushes. Crystal had to physically hold her back from rushing over to pet a small frog.

“Come on baby, let’s get ho-” the brunette couldn’t finish her sentence, because suddenly a figure jumped out at her from the bushes, making an attempt to leap at her and tackle her to the ground.

In a swift move, Crystal grabbed Gigi’s hand and they shot off, headlong, through the overgrown forest. They didn’t know whether or not they were being chased, and they were too filled with adrenaline to check.

What they didn’t know was that it was a man that jumped from the bushes, and said man had been waiting there for hours, waiting for Crystal to pass so he could go in for the kill. The man was a shepherd called Aristaeus, and ever since the marriage of Crystal and Gigi was announced, he had been plotting to conquer the latter. Much like other men, he desired the nymph for his own, and had planned to annihilate Crystal if it meant he could reach her.

What they also didn’t know was that he was chasing them, and the chase was lasting a very long time. Thunder clouds roared above them and it was a race against time to see if they would survive or either be killed by Aristaeus or the coming storm.

On and on they ran together, until suddenly, Gigi fell to the ground. Assuming she had merely tripped on a small branch, Crystal reached down to assist her up, but Gigi’s hand slipped from her grasp. The brunette couldn’t quite comprehend what happened, but she did know that the shepherd was thankfully nowhere in sight.

Her heart sank when she noticed the deathly pallor in her wife’s cheek. The blonde had always been pale, but the usual rosy tint on her cheeks and lips had completely disappeared. Crystal stopped short in dismay when she stepped back, scanned their surroundings, and saw a nest of snakes right where they had just stepped. Gigi must’ve stepped in it. That was when Crystal noticed a red mark by her lover’s ankle, as well as a gradual swelling around it.

It turned out that Aristaeus had witnessed the accident occur, and fled straight after. There was no hope in his daydream relationship with Gigi, knowing that nobody survived the bite of a deadly viper.

…

Crystal felt like she had lost her entire world. Gigi was dead. Her wife was gone and they had barely even had the chance to celebrate their new union. Just when she thought things would be peaceful for once. Her life without Gigi seemed endless, and she lost all the passion that made her shine before.

The girl was crying onto her hardwood floor when Hermes appeared, looking disgustingly smug.

“Mr Hermes…” she sniffled, wiping her tears onto her sleeves. She couldn’t let a God see her like this.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your masterpiece?” he inquired, gesturing to the girl’s lyre that now hung on the wall meaninglessly.

“She’s gone… but where is she? I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she sobbed, trying to refrain from punching a hole in the ground.

“She called your name before she went but I guess you weren’t listening,” he scoffed before his voice turned serious, “And what if I said she’s down below.”

“Down below?”

“Down below, you know… six feet under the ground below.”

“No-”

“-So, just how far would you go for her?”

Crystal’s eyes widened and she wiped her tears, standing up and straightening her back, “To the end of time… to the end of the earth.”

“You got a ticket?”

“A ticket to where?”

Hermes snorted and rested his hands on his hips, “Why, to the underworld of course.”

“No I- I don’t have a ticket,” she stuttered, nervous with the prospect that she could get her wife back.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Although, there is another way, but I really ain’t supposed to say.”

“Another way?”

“Y’know, around the back - but that ain’t easy walking, mortal. It ain’t for the sensitive of souls. Are you sure you really want to go?”

Crystal felt the tears coming back on, placing a hand over her chest, “With all my heart.”

“With all your heart? Well… that’s a start. To get to the underworld, you have to take a long way down - through the underground, under cover of night. You must lay down low and keep yourself out of sight. There’s no compass, darling, nor is there a map. All there is is a railroad track. You have to keep on walking and definitely do not look back until you get to the bottomland.”

She knew what to do now. She snatched her lyre from the wall and began her journey to the underworld. The route had walls of iron and concrete, and there were hound dogs howling around the gate. If she had brought a bone of bread, they would lay down and leave her be, but all she had was her own two legs - still. she was sure glad she had them.

As she walked, she played her lyre. The air was thick and humid - hard to breathe - yet there was still a chill running through her spine. Her legs were tired, but she showed no sign of stopping. Suddenly, she was hindered by the fates.

“Who are you to think that you can walk a road alone that no one has ever walked before,” one of them hissed, but Crystal quickly silenced them, continuing to play her lyre and play her melody.

After hours upon hours of walking, she began to see people. They were working - almost like they were mining. Hermes had told her that she mustn’t give anyone her name, for, in the underworld, nobody had one. She couldn’t look anybody in the eye, or else she’d be sent back home.

That was when she saw it. She saw two thrones in front of her, one with a majestic looking man sat in it, looking extremely bored. It was Hades, God of the underworld, guarding the gates from people like Crystal. The other sat an ethereal beauty - one of which Crystal had only ever seen in paintings - Miss. Persephone.

“Hello. My name is Crystal and I demand to be given entry. My wife’s life has been undeservingly stolen from me, and she was dragged down here even though she had so much more of her life to live. She died the day of our wedding day,” the brunette knew she mustn’t cry in front of the all-powerful Hades and Persephone so, for once, she managed to hold it in. “Hades, my great God - you for one should know the feeling of loneliness that is felt when your lover is away from you. So, I beg you to listen to me. Allow me to play you my song.”

Persephone looked compassionate, and Hades looked emotionless - until Crystal began playing. She started by humming and gently plucking the three strings until she built it up and playing it loud, bringing beams of light to the cave-like room. The hurt in her voice was so prominent, even the coldest of hearts couldn’t remain untouched.

Suddenly, Hades began to weep. Persephone looked shocked, for her husband had never cried before, but she placed her hand on his back while her own heart melted at the tune. Cerberus, the enormous three-headed hound that guarded the gate to the underworld, covered his ears with his paws and howled in despair.

After long, Crystal came to a stop, and Hades wiped his tears with a small handkerchief, having to compose himself before speaking.

“Your song is very beautiful, I must say. It is nothing I have ever heard before,” he stated, his voice deep and booming, “And so, for that reason, I will give you a proposition. I promise to you that, if you retrace your steps, Gigi will follow. Though, I do warn you: If you look back to ensure she is there while you are still in the light, she will be dragged back to my underworld. Are you willing?”

“Yes,” Crystal gasped, “I’m willing to do anything for my lover… Thank you, Hades. Thank you so much. I will be so grateful to you for the rest of eternity.”

“Run along then, pretty girl,” he sounded, and she immediately complied.

As the young girl disappeared into the distance, Persephone turned to her husband.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Hades, you let her go…”

The God sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne, “I let her try.”

…

Crystal was walking and she just couldn’t hear Gigi, but she knew she was there. If she listened close enough, she would be able to hear Gigi sing along to the song the brunette strummed on her lyre.

“I’m coming, wait for me… We are not alone - I hear the rocks and stones echoing our song…” the blonde cried, desperate for her wife to know she was there, and that if she kept walking without looking behind, they’d be able to spend an eternity together. “Crystal… I’m coming.”

The brunette kept playing her tune, despite the immense shiver that filled her body and the murderous gaze the fates kept on her as she walked. Doubt began to roll in, and she questioned Hades’ honesty. There was no way Gigi was near if she was so cold, because Gigi brought warmth to every place she went. She muttered affirmations to herself, but they were futile. She was filled with so much uncertainty. If the ringing of her words in her mind wasn’t so loud, she would’ve heard her wife’s words of encouragement.

“Crystal, my love. You’re shivering. Is it with cold or fear? Please… keep singing,” her voice was filled with hope, and for once she was the positive one, “Remember; the coldest night comes right before the spring.”

Crystal kept walking, her tanned fingers whitening with the frost as she continued to strum her lyre. She kept mumbling ‘where are you’ over and over, as if she were going mad. Who was she to believe that Hades wouldn’t deceive her just to make her leave alone? Where was Gigi?

The light in the distance suddenly became clear. She was so close, and the hope began to consume her again. Still, there was no sound - no branch snapping beneath her wife’s feet - but once more, she felt her presence.

Gigi began to see the light in front of her too, as her wife walked mere meters away from stepping into it. The blonde walked five meters behind.

“You are not alone,” the blonde whispered, wanting nothing more to run towards Crystal and embrace her, “I’m right behind you and I have been all along.”

Finally, after hours of walking in the darkness and the cold, Crystal stepped into the light and finally, she turned around.

There was a gasp.

“It’s you-” Crystal sniffled, her chest rising and falling at the sight of her beautiful wife. She was covered in coal from mining down below, and she looked frailer than before. Although, she was still so mind-bendingly gorgeous.

Gigi wanted to smile and embrace her wife, but there was one issue.

Because Crystal was a few steps in front, she entered the light before Gigi did, but Hades’ proposition stated that Gigi must be in the light before she could turn.

Gigi was still in the dark. She was yet to see the sun.

So, before Crystal could lunge forward and wrap her arms around the love of her life, she disappeared in front of her eyes, being dragged back to the underworld.

“GIGI-” Crystal shrieked, attempting to run back into the darkness, chasing after her wife. But, as the rules of underworld stated: No person may enter the realm of Hades twice while still alive.

Hermes guarded her entry after being sent by Zeus, informing her of the rule.

“But Mr Hermes… You’ve seen how in love we are… You know us… You- You-” she sobbed, falling to her knees and shaking.

“Rules are rules, mortal.”

…

For the rest of her life, the musician was left disoriented and heart-broken. She turned away the touch of any man and any woman, forever mourning her misfortune. It reached a point where she couldn’t bear to look at another woman without being reminded of the pain of the past.

No longer were her songs joyful - they were sorrowful and melancholy, and they brought misery to whoever heard them. The only comfort she found when she laid herself down on a large rock, reveling in the caress of the breeze.

One day, a group of women who were angered with Crystal’s ignoration for them, attacked her. Crystal had become so empty and motivationless that she put up no fight. They killed her in cold blood, before throwing her and her lyre into a great river. Her head and lyre floated downriver, towards the island of Lesvos, where a group of Muses found her and gave her the official burial she deserved.

It is said that her grave emanates quiet, beautiful music because now, her soul had descended down to the underworld, where she could spend the rest of eternity with Gigi.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 3

 Thanks, I Hate It!

This week, we move forward by first jumping backwards. Last episode, the Bad Kids found that Riz and Fig were missing. Now, we get to see what happened in the meantime. Riz was in his office, trying to put together anything new on the Nightmare King. We’re reminded that his sword--the Sword of Shadows which he got from the arcade and lets him misty step (also, which he used to kill Kalvaxus)--was made by Tabaxi ninjas (seemingly relevant considering the whole Shadowcat thing). He notices that, in his photo, Kalina’s image doesn’t look as time-worn as the rest of it, as if only the part where she appears was protected. He hears a noise and goes to investigate. What he finds, is a creepy-ass nightmare skeleton person in the mirror claiming to be Baron, from the Baronees (the person he on the fly lied--poorly--that he was dating in ep 1). Respecting the fact that Murph never clarified whether Baron was a guy or a girl, Brennan has Baron exclusively refer to themselves as Riz’s R̵̪̹̄o̸̱͝m̸͔͔̂̽a̴͕̾̈́n̵͙̬͒c̸̣̏͠ḙ̸̃̓ ̶̞̇̕P̸̞͚̈́a̸͉͒͝r̴̛͈͈t̷͓͇̋͒n̸̬͛̈́e̴̮̒r̴̝̃̓ in this mega-cursed, fake Swedish(?) accent.

Thanks, I hate it. 

Riz, faced with his lie brought to life, is pretty freaked and tries to shoot it but he’s quickly subdued and dragged into the mirror. Luckily, he’s able to leave the photo for his friends to find. 

Meanwhile, Fig spent the night in a weird fugue state--almost like an enjoyable nightmare. Most of her focus is on this feeling of isolation, fame, and power--but in a good way. In the background, she’s doing some unimportant stuff. You know, packing her stuff, stealing a gem, trapping Gorthalax in it, and going to Bastion City. No big deal. Anyway, that brings us back to the present with the rest of our party.

They make it to Bastion City and, more importantly, the hotel where Fig is supposed to be. On the way, Adaine tries to detect magic on Sandra-Lynn to try and figure out why she can see the photograph but nothing comes up. At the hotel, they unsuccessfully try to get the concierge to tell them where Fig’s room is. Adaine detects that the receptionist has some kind of transmutation on them and her first thought is, “Magic plastic surgery.” She dispels it. Not magic plastic surgery. The concierge is a demon--which is different and worse than devils who are at least lawful and, like, part of the bureaucracy of punishing people who deserve it.

Anyway, fight time! A lot happens during this fight so I’m going to try and highlight the most important parts:

All the employees in the immediate area turn into various demons to fight the party.

Adaine and Kristen catch sight of Fig’s room number (downstairs penthouse) right before the fight starts and, at the top of the initiative, Adaine goes invisible and runs for the elevator. 

Fabian vaults of Gilear’s face--unnecessarily--and rolls a nat 20.

Gilear (who has FIVE hit points) ducks and covers because of course he does. That doesn’t stop him from being completely obliterated by one punch from one of the huge gorilla demons. He freaking DIES. Thanks, I hate it.

Downstairs, Adaine finds a bunch more demons who are with Fig who is clearly being mind controlled. They have Riz strapped to a table and Fig’s about to stab him with a ritualistic knife. Adaine goes for a dispel magic and gets advantage because of Boggy which leads to her rolling *two nat 20s* and snapping her out of it immediately. 

In a very boss move, Fig immediately grabs Riz and dimension doors him out of his restraints and them both to the coat check where she left the ruby with Gorthalax. Before they poof out, Riz sees yellow eyes in the shadows. Familiar tabaxi eyes. Seemed like she was calling shots. 

Riz gets in a very cool kill with the line, “Tell Daybreak I said hi.”

Fig finds out Gilear is dead and grabs his soul. Kristen heals him up.

Fabian vaults off of Gilear a second time and rolls a nat 1, sending him back into death saves. 

Kristen tosses a spare the dying at Gilear and then kisses full wolfed out Tracker because time isn’t of the essence or anything.

Fig grabs the ruby Gorthalax is in and sees that it’s cloudy--cursed somehow to keep them from breaking him out. Not good. She also finds a bunch of other gems which she also grabs.

We meet Kristen’s new spirit guardians which are now hipster Post-Grad philosophy students in a full spectral coffee shop. She finds them insufferable but is also kind of into it. 

They clean up the rest of the demons and then Fabian does donuts on the Hangman. And we are out of combat.

Fig is a little distraught about having almost killed Riz and brought them all into this dangerous situation which literally killed Gilear--even though no one else blames her even a little. Gilear has a bit of a breakdown which is fair. The man died. They try to send him home--Fig wants to give him 10k gold and send him on vacation--but he is determined to stay and experience things and be useful. Also, Fabian has it in his (and Gorgug’s) head that Gilear must be some kind of chosen one since one of the demons in the fight chose to attack Gilear over him. 

Fig looks through the other gems she got and only one--a Celestial Sapphire--is similar to size to Gorthalax’s. When they bring it out, a slot in Gorgug’s van pops open. They slot the Sapphire in and, through the radio, an Angelic voice speaks to them. He sounds like Owen Wilson and he doesn’t remember his name. The Hangman hates him immediately. Fig pretends to be a cop to get info from the cops that arrive on the scene, doesn’t find out anything useful, but does roll a nat 20 on her deception (come on) and briefly turns the game into the sister, cop-drama show set in the same universe as the Grey’s Anatomy sham-life she’s living, kissing another full adult man. Incredible. 

They regroup at a posh restaurant/cafe called The Swan’s Little Parade. Sklonda calls and, after she and Sandra-Lynn do the mom-catch up thing, she has a quick talk with Riz where we find out a few things about Kalina:

She only worked with Pok on missions between Falinel and Solace.

She was great at going invisible and other infiltration things.

(Note: We actually learned this earlier but I wanted to keep this info together)She looks more like a traditional housecat than a big cat like some other tabaxi.

It’s extremely hard to scry on her. 

She didn’t attend Pok’s funeral.

The last time Sklonda heard from her was 12ish years ago.

Riz only encountered her a few times as a kid. 

Last Sklonda remembers, she reached out to Pok it was something to do with the ship the Oracle sank on. 

They pass around the picture to see who can see it and not only does it appear that Ragh can see her (oh, kinda implied this before but Riz can too) he also seemed really bugged out. Tracker says she can use her cleric mojo to put up some wards to (1) keep them from getting mind whammied like Fig did overnight and (2) maybe make Ragh feel safe enough to talk. She also suggests they all sleep in a huge dog pile for safety which I think is great and someone should draw that.

Gorgug gets a text. It’s Zelda. She can’t believe he left without saying goodbye.

Thanks, I hate it. 

Detention

Fabian for Using Gilear as a Launch Pad Two (2) Times

This was a top contender for this spot, even before Fabian did this a second time and screwed up so bad (nat 1!) that Gilear dropped to zero again and had to make death saving throws.    

Honor Roll

Adaine for Freeing Fig 

Listen, I will freely admit that I have a clear bias towards Adaine. You got me. She’s my favorite. HOWEVER, you cannot tell me that going invisible, rushing straight to the elevator, then rolling double nat 20s (a 1/400 chance) to release Fig from domination right before she plunged a knife into Riz’s heart wasn’t the sickest series of events that happened during this ep. What could possibly compete? 

Random Thoughts

I’ve been trying to figure out the rhyme or reason to who can see the full photo but I haven’t figured out a pattern yet. It’s not that only people who have seen her before can see her because Sandra-Lynn can see it and she said she’s never met her--although I guess it’s possible that she has and she didn’t recognize her since she’s a super spy. And it’s not a blanket thing on the Bad Kids specifically because Riz can see her. I was hoping they’d show it to more people so we could get a better idea of the rules. Maybe it’s based entirely on if she wants to be seen by that specific person? But then why wouldn’t it default to the blank image. It seems (from our limited POV) that most people can see her. Maybe for most people a blank space would be more suspicious than a random tabaxi? Idk.  

Riz forcibly installing himself as Fabian’s best friend and it working is low key the funniest relationship development in FH. I’m so glad Murph and Lou ran with that. Also, the fact that he’s basically accepted that Riz is his best friend but the Hangman hasn’t at all is so good. 

Brennan really just shot Zac in the head at point blank range at the end of the episode, huh? He really just did that to our boy. What’s also funny is that, unlike--say--CR where there’s usually at least a good minute of decompression and goodbyes, Brennan just goes for the kill shot and then peaces out immediately. What a power move. 

Also, poor Zelda! She’s already so insecure, this isn’t gonna be good for her self esteem. Arguably, there were extenuating circumstances Gorgug can claim but you know that’s only gonna help so much since he def could have at least called/texted her to let her know he had to leave in a hurry because Fig/Riz were missing. I wonder if there’s a section of the binder on this. 

For reference, the demons they fight in the hotel lobby are a Cambion, and then several barlgura and skeksis.

“He’s just a guy!” He certainly is. Check out his stats. Hilarious but also, I can’t act like my stats would look that much different. 

I truly, truly cannot believe that Emily pulled the exact same hospital stunt again and it resolved in exactly the same way. This is like when I played blackjack with my brother when I was a teenager to teach him that the house always wins and he hit 21 twice in a row. 

Also on the topic of Fig, her coming down from her mind control was my favorite part of this episode, for a couple of reasons. I love how sincerely Emily played the immediate shock and horror at what she almost did (closed book my ass). I love how every other person was so happy to get her back. I love that none of them even entertained the thought that she might be dangerous or untrustworthy now. Relationships at the intersection of constant bullying and ride or die are my favorite. 

While we’re on the topic of emotional scenes, Gilear full breaking down in the van post-fight was very funny but you also genuinely felt for the guy. It’s been a really long day for the guy and he died like one and a half times. His, “I haven’t experienced anything before this moment,” line really hit me hard. And I think it’s very wild that Brennan set the DC for convincing him to go home at 25 (which Fig did not pass with a 21). It’s very interesting that Gilear’s reaction to this series of events was to double down and be like, I *need* to be here. Seems like this could be a set up for some interesting Gilear development. 

The amount of times I have almost typed Balnor is unreal. My brain stores all the middle aged men hanging out with people too young for him to be hanging out with in the same folder.  

I can’t believe Adaine just went for that dispel except that I can because she did the exact thing with Iris’ wig at the NY live show and I couldn’t believe that either! I really did not think (1) that was a good move or (2) gonna lead to combat (except for the kind that gets you banned from a hotel). I completely misread that situation. Like, it’s a world full of magic. It’s not that weird that a random person would have a spell on them. Anyway, this is why she’s the oracle and I’m not. 

The Barlgura needed a 3 or higher to hit Gilear. He got a 19. Yikes.

“I had to ask.”/ “No you didn’t.” (The crew explodes into laughter.)

Riz tells the whole gang about the Baron thing and tells everyone that they need to stop lying in case all their lies are gonna pop out and attack them. Gorgug admits that he’s kissed the Hangman. Kristen confesses to a group of her closest friends and girlfriend that she is gay. Tracker is like, “Babe, what?” Tracker (and the Bad Kids but in a different way) must really love Kristen because she is just so much all the time. 

Fabian: Who are you seeing then?/Riz:...................No one. 

Ally Middle Name Beardsly wtf is a paranoia check? 

The comedic rhythm of Fabian vaulting off of Gilear’s face with a nat 20, him dying, being resurrected, and the Fabian trying to do it again with a nat 1 and knocking him near death is so perfect that it’s wild that it was totally random. This is the kind of thing that makes you get superstitious about dice. 

We’re introduced to Boggy’s second mood this ep which is Boggy’s mood which is a slightly squinted, “Hmm...I don’t know about this.” Thanks, I love it. 

In addition to considering Gilear might be the chosen one (by who? Of what? They don’t know and neither do I) the half of the group entertaining this theory also considers Gilear might be the Nightmare King (”If you are you have to tell me. I’m your daughter.”). I don’t know if the NK does possession but please have the NK possess Gilear at some point. If the theme of this season is carefully filing away random off the cuff gags and making them plot relevant, please let this be one of them. Also, lol at Murph trying to roll high enough so that Riz has the knowledge to stop the shenanigans before it derails the whole campaign.  

The group bestows upon Gilear the positions of Tour Manager, Social Media Manager, and Honorary Bad Kid (listed last of course).

Fig grabbed a lanyard of out Adaine’s jacket and I remembered, oh yeah, she has a very magical jacket that is only ever used for shenanigans, if at all. Imagine being so magic that you have a magic jacket that you’re always wearing that can summon anything (w/i reason) and you just kinda...forget about it most of the time. 

Curious about why Fig specifically was called in to do the sacrifice and why Riz was the one who had to be sacrificed. 

I hope Adaine just continues to loan out Boggy to anyone having a bad day. I love that.

“Maybe this is one of those massages that hurt.”

Really wanted Hilariel to Skype in and ask about Gilear. Her take on everything is always so funny. She is as crazy as everyone else in her family but in such a low key way.  

Lol at the party being like, “Yeah, Tracker healed me just fine without any 69-ing,” which is truly an incomprehensible sentence without context and still mostly incomprehensible with context. 

Don’t wanna overlook the coolness of Fig rolling double 17s (disadvantaged) to command the barlguras. Not magically, just convincing them she was still in charge of them. Very clutch.

Fabian is so much chiller about letting people on his motorbike these days. He let Gilear ride it. He let Riz ride it. He gave a blanket invitation for anyone in the area to hop on before he did donuts. I love Sophomore Fabian. 

Gilear gets a nat 20 for his first roll! Riz and Kristen got two nat 20s. Fig got one, Gorgug got one (he rolled a second one that was lost with disadvantage), and Adaine rolled two but they really only count as one since it was with advantage. Fabian rolled one of each. That’s a lot of 20s for one ep!

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

Forgotten and Cast By the Wayside (Drabble/Vent)

I just woke up from a 3 hour nap, something that I should’ve been at least a little bit refreshed from (despite how embarrassing it is that I’ve slept for 3 hours and accomplished none of what I wanted/needed to do today), but I don’t feel that at all.  I have a headache and me eating my dinner late didn’t make it go away.

I didn’t feel good today.  Physically, I’m fine.  Mentally?  Not good.

Today I felt like crying at work today, so occupied with my own thoughts that I wasn’t sure if it was because I hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, because I barely slept at all, because I really was feeling my loneliness hard, or because it was all three.

I feel like I can control my emotions and know the difference of when I’m tired and hungry, because I would just be annoyed or hangry.  I wasn’t.  I was every bit as depressed and alone than how I was before.

I felt forlorn.

–

Ender stared at the coordinates for so long, he wasn’t sure if the image was burned into his brain for how long his eyes were glued to it.  This was it.  His past made real.  And he really was considering to do it.  What would he gain from this?  What could he possibly achieve by going back?  Reopening old wounds isn’t something that he (nor anybody, for that matter) would be comfortable doing at all.  Especially one where it’s a dead planet.

He would see things that he didn’t want to see.  Go to a place that he should never witness.  Find things…that are best left buried.  Was it worth all the trauma?  Was it worth all of the pain he might inevitably endure?

He needed to confront it.  Here and now.

Ender starts to flip up the switches as the Theseus’ engines and quantum entanglement reactor light up and hum to life.  The door was opening.  He pushes the lever forward as a large a blue portal opened up in front of him into another world of stars.  He breathes out a heavy and shaky sigh as he pulls the ship through.

–

There’s a lot of things that I kept thinking about today that probably didn’t make things better (which is a great mindset to have, right?).  One of them was an essay that a mutual sent to me about…what kind of person I am.  I can assure you that none of it was good.  I had it stowed away somewhere, to remind me never to forget that you can’t let people walk all over you, say whatever they want, nor think things for how they think you are when you really aren’t.

It was hard not to, I can assure you of that.  What if they were right?  What if I really was this awful person that was merely using them for my own gain?  Back then, I was so upset to read that and the more that I thought about it, I had gotten so angry and rage-fueled.  I wanted to scream at work, in my car even, because I was so angry at that.  I wanted to scream so loudly that they would hear from where they were, to know how much needless pain they caused me when I showed them nothing but kindness.  But…I’m glad that I received it, in the end.  It showed that I did respect myself.  That, in some way, I loved myself.  And it made me grow as a person.  I’m indebted to it, as painful as it was coming from someone that I admired and loved.

During those few months when I got a new job, things seemed to be going right and well for me (with its realistic downs, every now and then).  I had been getting better pay, had some good friends and met new ones, I was starting to write a story on FanFiction that I was really motivated and happy to do, and, somewhere down the line, I was inspired to think about making my own video game (one that I had thought about and fleshed out in some way, shape, or form).  Things were great.

Now?  Not so much.

–

This was a mistake, he thought to himself.  I should never have come here to this…hallowed ground. The planet was right there in front of him, covered in white and grey.  No blue, no green, no brown, just those two mute colors that he fully well expected to see from a planet experiencing a nuclear winter that wouldn’t end for years to come.

Flying over the planet, he inches the ship ever closer like he was drawing out the inevitable.  He made up so many excuses: would the ship be able to withstand the radiation?  Were the shields strong enough to withstand it?  Would his armor even protect him from the radiation plaguing the entire planet?  The answer was yes, of course.  But it didn’t make him all the more willing to go down, for reasons that weren’t because of what he listed.

As he inches close to the planet, the large and grey planet loomed in front of his windshield like a siren singing a haunting song to his doom.  A cursed liturgy of the millions that perished during and after that accursed genocide.  That needless genocide.  The storms raged and swirled around on the planet’s surface unforgivably, blizzards burying and drowning out whatever life could ever live on the land.  As Ender pulled the ship in closer to the atmosphere, the storms would continue to rage on, making Ender’s neck sweat hard and his brow drenched.  His throat became dry, and yet he swallowed hard as he gazed at the many maws of the never-ending maelstroms that would open and close, waiting for him to jump in.  Waiting for him to accept.

He hyperventilates a bit as he felt his head become heavy and lightheaded, holding his forehead as he felt the sweat form under his palms.  This was a bad idea, something that he should never have done.  He needed to turn back, to get away from this tainted planet as fast as he could and never come back.  Feeling tears well up in his eyes, he looks down at himself.  He needed to.  He had to.  He knew he had to.  If he didn’t make peace with this…he’ll always be in perpetual torment of this place.  Forever.

Wiping some stray tears from his face, he bites his whited lip as he grips the throttle and pulls into the gaping maws of the blizzard-ridden planet.

–

I don’t want to point this at anyone in particular (but then again, it’s not like they are on this website to my knowledge), but I could narrow it down to another individual that brought me my mental encumbrance.  I remember I was writing my story on FanFiction and there was one reader that seemed to be interested and followed my story for a bit.  But, one day, he decided that my silence on projects and lack of updates was the last straw for him, and he left a rather…brusque review.  One that was very critical of my work and how I operated rather coldly and without any personal OOC comments on the progress of it.

Even if what he said about my story was true, it killed my mojo for writing.  Completely.  And it left me doubting myself and my work.  While I did update and make an OOC post about my plans and the reviewer followed up with an apology, the damage was already done.  And my mood and buzz for writing something that I loved and cherished was killed instantly, by some piece of shit twat that thinks his opinions on products were profound and of the highest mindset in terms of what FanFiction has to offer.  But I think it killed more than just my writing, it killed everything else.  It killed my sense of purpose.

I lost my motivation to do anything and everything.  To be a better person, to keep myself on track, to do what I needed to do, to learn new things.  I had forgotten and abandoned all of it over time once it was all taken away from me.  I felt so worthless and I started to have pity myself again.  Pathetic, right?

And where am I right now, you ask?  Not any better than where I was before, I can tell you that much.

–

The ship shook and shuddered as it descended through the storms, hearing thunder and seeing snow flood his windshield.  Thankfully, his ship was powerful and was able to withstand atmospheres that would tear humans apart in a matter of seconds.  It didn’t make his descent any better.  A part of him hoped that it would be so brutal and ruthless to control that he would leave, but his ship’s shields was taking all of it rather well.  And it made a pit in his stomach.

There was no ground that he could see, even when he was below the clouds.  The snow drowned and flooded his screen without mercy, the fog covering what landscape there may (or may not) have been.  And the more he perused and observed the surface, the more dread he began to feel.  He drew closer to his coordinates by the minute and it felt so wrong.

The closer he got to his destination, the more unrecognizable the land around him became.  There was no familiar valley or hills that he had grew up on, no houses, no trees (of course not), no anything that would even remotely remind him of this once…sacred place.  And he only knew that things were just going to get worse, his head and body starting to sweat as he felt himself whimper a bit with every moment he was here.  This was true agony for him.  Merciless trauma.

Once he had arrived, he lands the ship as his right leg was bouncing on the floor impatiently and nervously.  This was the worst idea he could’ve possibly come up with and decided to do.  He storms out from the helm as he was panting intensely from whatever await him outside.  Putting on his armor he heads out to the landing pad and looks at the switch.  He stares at it for so long, knowing that only pain and anguish would await him outside.  His armor could brave the weather…but he wasn’t strong enough to find what lay ahead.  He knew it for a fact.

…I’ve come this far…

He pulls the switch as the nuclear winds flooded through the dock.

--

Today was something that I felt hard.  Something that I thought I was better at ignoring and knowing fully well wasn’t the truth.  But it was something...that seemed tangible to me, and something that drew a horrible realization.  I felt so alone, today.  I care about people way too much more than others do about me.  I tried messaging some friends on Discord, hoping that they were doing well.  They replied...but that voice in the back of my head is too convincing for my own good.

It felt like I was bothering them, annoying them with my presence.  They probably had better things to do and wanted to be left alone by some stupid idiot that was being an annoyance on their lives.

Whether this was true or not, it hit me that...I don’t think anyone really cares.  No one cares.  About me.  I had never felt more mortal and alone than in those moments at my work.  That, truly, my presence didn’t matter to anybody or my friends.  Don’t mistake this as suicide, because I would never do that.  But...if I disappeared tomorrow, would anyone really notice?  Would anyone ever look for me?  Would anyone actually care that I was gone?  How long would it take before they noticed that I’m not there anymore?  Not just on Discord, but on Tumblr.  Does anyone really care?

My existence is fleeting and I don't see a point of me being here. Why am I here? And it was at that moment that my suspicions about myself were true: I’m just a forlorn, forgotten, unwilling hermit.  I try to help and console as many of my friends and strangers as I can, because it’s what I enjoy doing.  I enjoy making people happy and trying to help them through their problems.  But they are so quick to move on with their lives...that I’m left behind.  And that’s all I’ll be good for: a counselor.

I’ll still be in my cold, empty, barren head even when I invite myself over to other people’s problems.  My sense of purpose and belonging only happens when I rudely invite myself into helping other people and initiate conversation first.  And although there are a small few that would take the chance and the time to talk to me, it still feels like they do it out of principle rather than because of genuine interest.  No one would even bother to talk to me first, invite me to places first, or join in on my sessions willingly.

I haven’t felt more forsaken or abandoned in my life.

--

“Radiation levels: extreme.  Adjusting radiation intake” his armor computer chimed.

Ender didn’t feel anything when the winds blew through.  And the blizzard quickly piled up near the end of the landing pad.  But it didn’t worry him...his head was filled with too many other worries than something as trivial as this.  He takes a step forward, then pulls it back as he sighs heavily.  He had to.  He just had to.

He takes a few steps forward and continued to slowly walk until he was outside.  The blizzard and winds lightly pushed and rolled over him, but that was thanks to his armor.  If he didn’t have this on, it would have sent him flying.  He looks around him, seeing the grey snow-covered landscape of the familiar hills and valleys completely changing whatever it may have been before.

Home.

The grey clouds and storms coated the entire horizon all around around him, seeing nothing but a barren wasteland with no sky or stars to be seen here.  Hallowed ground, indeed.  Ender pulls out his wrist pad to find the coordinates.  It was a short walk away.  And God, did he want to retreat.  But he had already come this far...he had to make his amends.

Trudging through the snow, he makes his way over to that place...his house.  The very place where he was born and raised in.  Looking up from his wrist pad, there was nothing of the sort here.  No house, no anything.  Just a pile of snow that had covered this now hundreds-of-years old planet.  He felt some tears well up in his eyes as he looked at it.  His home was gone, this place buried under the weight of a world that refused to move on.  A world that refused to accept humanity and ignore their menial and needless gripes against one another.

Ashen snow of a dead planet.

He goes over to where his house would be as he takes a knee and leans his head down.  Nothing here to remember what this place was when the nukes dropped.  Nothing at all.  And it hurt him, to know that his past, his childhood, whatever made him happy, was completely burnt away to a crisp and buried under this cursed snow.  He sighs shakily as some tears coursed down his cheek.

Ender gently places his hand on a part of the snow as he hangs his head down.  He missed them.  He missed his family so much.  His mom, his dad, and his sister.  They had all wasted away here...what happened when the missiles were coming?  Did they brace themselves?  Did they try to hide?  What did they do?

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you guys...I’m...I’m so sorry...” he muttered and barely could speak out, his eyes welling up even more as he hung his head lower.

Then...he felt something under his hand as it sunk into the snow.  Something solid.  Tangible.

--

I was weak.

And I still am.  I let these stupid emotions get to me when I know better than to let it happen as it has so many times.  It’s hard for me to control my emotions when I’m...so emotional, you know?  I really feel things for people, sometimes overtly and sometimes not so overtly.  Not many people would agree with me on that, I’m sure, but I’m telling you how I see myself.

I hate myself so much, sometimes.  I hate that I care so much.  I hate that I let myself get this way, just venting and talking about shit that no one couldn’t give less of a shit about.  I hate using a story that I’ve wanted to write for a while about my muse (my Gary Stue, honestly) as an excuse to vent over shit that I’m sure many have glossed over.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s the only way I know how to be upfront and honest with people.  And...I wanted to create something different, experimental.  To see how I would feel about writing a pivotal plot point with my muse, as well as myself, I suppose.  I enjoy writing stories, but who reads them?  Much like the death of Keats, who mourns for Adonais?  I’m not proclaiming myself to be anything special of the sort, but who cares?  No one does.  I just talk into a void, hoping that it’ll answer back.  And it might not ever.

Ender is a muse that I really care for, one that I feel like I’ve grown up to be like almost as much as he has with me.  But we all like to roleplay as those that we are not, right?  He gets all the ladies (with their permission and consent, of course), he travels and goes to wherever he wants endlessly, and he gains friends and lovers wherever he goes.  I don’t believe that I’m that at all.  I’m not bold, I’m not brave, I’m not flirty, I’m not saucy, I’m not adventurous, and I’m certainly not strong.  I’m me, the same person I’ve been for 9 years since I’ve made this blog.

I’m still me...

--

What was this under his hand?  It felt...soft, but also hard.  It was bizarre, but also frightening.  Perhaps a piece of debris?  Ender grabs onto it firmly and pulls it out from the snow.  It was a decent clump of something, covered in snow of course.  But he couldn’t make out what it was.  A rock?

He starts to brush it off to see what it was.  The more he brushed it, the more he saw of what it was.

--

Sometimes I’m not proud of this blog or my muse, either.  I feel like he can be a one-trick pony for smut.  But I enjoy smut.  I enjoy loving and being loved.  Also, it’s fun.  Because it’s something that I’ve only experienced doing a few times in my miserable 25 years.  And I enjoy doing something that promotes pleasure and happiness, rather than something depressing, something that can hurt you, or something that can destroy you.  It’s also why I like fluff.  It makes me happy to see him and the other happy.

--

He started to brush it more and notices...tendrils?  What?  That didn’t make sense.  He brushes it some more and started to see that it was...hard.  Hard, but not rocky.  It was something else.  And it was interlocked and linked to something as well.  He started wipe it off some more until he slowly started to realize what it was.

--

Why am I still on this blog?  It feels like I always invite myself to RP with others that don’t really care or RP with me out of principle sometimes.  It feels like I’m bothering them, especially given the track record that my blog has.  Forget about RPing with canon blogs, something that I always want to do and would like to see myself get involved it.  But it’ll never happen, because...well, OC.  And a self-insert, for all intents and purposes. And I'm still wary about asking to RP with other OCs because of said track record. You only need to scroll a little to see what I'm famous for (or INfamous for, I should say). It's dumb.

--

It was a hand.  A skeleton hand.  And it was...holding another hand.  Ender felt his heart sink and tears started to well up under his eyes.

“...m...mo...mom?  Da...dad?” he could barely utter out.

There was a small, deeply burnt sear on the ring-finger of one of the hands.

--

I don’t know why I’ve continued for this long...

--

“N...No...oh...oh God...oh my God...oh my God!” he sobbed out quietly until he holds the hands tightly and presses it to his helmet.  He felt the tears streaming down his cheek as he sobs hard, pressing his helmeted forehead to it, hoping to feel something.  But the glass protected him from whatever radiation it surely housed.  To have something be between him and his parents...it was painful.  He presses a kiss against his helmet as he presses the joined hands to his helmet, but he couldn’t feel anything.  He hoped they did.  It only made it worse for him.

His sobs descended into screams of pain and sorrow, wanting to drown out the bitter storm that drove on around him.  He wanted to scream over this blizzard that flooded all sounds around him.  He wanted to scream against this dead planet so it could be heard around the world.  He wanted to scream so that his family could hear it in the next life...if one existed.

He wanted to be heard.

But nothing did.

[thedistantstorm]

Wild Things

The Last City | Steelponcho: Pre-relationship Zavala x Hawthorne | Louis is a good boy and deserves all the pets | Zavala is not allowed to leave his window closed

Inspired by what @littleshebear wrote here. Hawthorne’s emotional support falcon has some feelings. And he’d like everyone to get with the program.

-/

Amanda looks over at the bird. She and Cayde have been playing cards outside the Hunter Lounge this afternoon, seen Hawthorne, and flagged her down. The bird had turned up not too long after. 

“He’s been cheeky all day,” The Frontierswoman says, letting him perch on her wrist. He weighs hardly anything, half a kilo if he’s engorged himself on food, so she bends her arm inward, to regard him face to face. He turns away.

Looks at Cayde, who is reaching one hand towards him. Whatever look the Hunter Vanguard receives, it’s clearly frightening enough for him to twitch his hand back. “Okay, fine,” Cayde huffs. “Be that way.”

The peregrine lets out a mouthy cheep. A moment later, he flaps his wings incessantly and takes off. His handler shakes her head. “Birds,” She huffs, with a puff of hot air. “You’d think he’d been dumped or something, I haven’t seen him this moody in ages.”

“Want me to deal you in?” Amanda handles the deck of cards like a pro, much to the glee of Cayde, who loves anything flashy.

Suraya shrugs, looking between the two. “Does he cheat?”

The Shipwright looks to Cayde, who is making his most angelic of faces, save the eyebrow-plate waggle. “Not if he wants his sparrow to run.”

-/

Three hands later, Louis returns, looking just as dissatisfied.

“Wow,” Amanda says, when he picks at his wing and broods on his mother’s arm, “That must be some lady friend if he’s acting so dejected.”

Louis makes a pitiful sound in reply. Amanda reaches her hand out tentatively - Hawthorne has shown her how to do this, a handful of times - and carefully pets the bird. Cayde watches on, jealousy in his features. The last time he’d tried, Louis took his finger. And he wasn’t particularly inclined to give it back.

“It’s okay bud,” Cayde chimes in, in lieu of possibly being mauled, “Happens to me all the time. You’ll bounce back quick.”

“That’s uh,” Hawthorne and Amanda share an amused glance, “Not something you should be bragging about.”

“I’m trying to be supportive!”

“Don’t you listen to a word he says,” Amanda coos. Louis chitters, and his audience eats it right up. “You got way more mojo than him.”

“HEY!”

-/

It's a few hours later when Hawthorne trudges into Zavala's office for a meeting. They still have a great deal of people to rehome and supplies to allocate. Funds, the actual supplies necessary, all of it takes careful planning. Frivolity with their resources would be certain doom for many, but they cannot be stingy either.

They're sitting in relative silence. The faintest scratching of Hawthorne's pen against paper as she writes notes in the margin of her copies of their drafts has become a comforting familiarity. It's fine, until that sound is interrupted by the scratching rattle of his windowpane. It disturbs her from her thoughts.

He looks apologetic enough. "I have to get someone to look at that. I'm not sure what is going on."

She blinks up at him, eyes narrowed when it happens again. "How long has it been happening?"

"It started this morning. It will stop in a few moments. I believe it's the wind."

"Uh huh," She hums eloquently, not convinced. 

When she rises, he's right behind her. "I have already called a maintenance worker. Someone will rectify it. You do not have to-"

The sound of the window opening interrupts him. There is an indignant, furious cry, a tumble, strange flapping, and suddenly, Louis is in front of him, squawking.

"He's been acting like a brat all day," Hawthorne informs him with something rueful, a tiny smirk on her face, returning to her seat. "I thought he got shut down by a ladybird or something. Happened before. He's got a thing for ravens."

Louis swivels his head and chirps at her for that, annoyed. Then, he continues to flap about in front of the Commander, angry caws that subside into sad little cheeps.

"Why is he…" Zavala looks at her, but she drops her chin onto her arms, which are crossed in front of her, over her paperwork. Her dark eyes watch the bird of prey with something like surprise and awe.

"Louis," She begins, softer. It draws both of their attentions. "He didn't leave the window closed to keep you out."

The Peregrine turns all the way around to address her. He caws at her.

"Is that why he's-"

She sighs. He leans forward and nips the end of her nose, but it's clearly an affectionate gesture. "You think too much about things, birdbrain. He likes us just fine."

"He doesn't actually understand that, does he?"

Both bird and handler turn to regard him then, with sharp, sharp eyes.

"My apologies," he gruffs, immediately holding up both hands in surrender. "I've never-"

Louis scoots over to him in a little hop, more like a chickadee than a bird of prey. He butts the Commander's hand with the top of his head and makes a forlorn sound.

He looks to Hawthorne, still resting her head on her wrists, slouched on the table. She's watching them carefully, but she isn't concerned. He, on the other hand has no idea what he's doing.

"Your," He swallows as those black eyes look up at him, immediately honed in on the sound of his voice, the smart raptor knowing it's him Zavala's addressing. Louis's head tilts, as if to consider. "Mother-" Hawthorne dips her head. Okay. Not the wrong turn of phrase. Good. "Your mother was right. I was not trying to keep you out, that was not my intention."

He flaps his wings again, all brown and white, neither spotted nor striped on his underbelly and yet somehow both. His cry is insistent.

"He-"

"Of course," Zavala relents, looking down at the bird as if he'd spoken in common. "As long as I do not have a meeting, I will leave my window open." His eyes are still gentle, but they take a harder turn, his voice just the slightest bit more stern. "But, in return, you will not peck on my window if it is closed. Do we have a deal?"

There's a small chitter, like a hum, as the falcon seems to consider the Commander's offer. Hawthorne can't help it. She giggles.

"Go on," She tells her charge, when he looks back at her like she's interrupting something important. "That's a good offer. I'd take it."

She does not realize that Zavala is watching her, the way her eyes brighten yet stay so dark, the little crinkle of her forehead, between her eyebrows, the way her smile lessens the severity of her face. Louis draws his attention once more, leaning forward, beak parted slightly.

"Give him your knuckle." Hawthorne curls her index finger inward to show him what to do. He's telling you it's a deal."

Sure enough, he mimics the gesture and the bird nips him so gently it's barely a squeeze. He doesn't move away though.

"What does-"

"We should get back to work," The Clan Steward tells him, as if it's not her fault - her bird! - that derailed things in the first place. 

Louis protests.

Hawthorne reaches for him and he caws. "Okay fine. I won't rub your belly, you brat."

He turns to Zavala, cheeping again, soft-like.

"Oh," She realizes, tone changing to something betrayed. "You little traitor! You want him to-" She looks at Zavala now, her eyes narrowing. "You been bonding with my bird, Commander?"

He pauses, not sure if he's guilty or not. Then, "He did come to the barn often, when I was working on battle plans, for the war effort. I believe," Lewis is looking at him again with those deep, dark eyes, "I believe he liked the peace and quiet."

"Uh… huh." Suspicion flares anyway. "He seems pret-ty comfortable with you."

Before he can think better of it, he retorts, "Well, perhaps he's mirroring you."

Her poncho-covered head rockets up, no longer resting on her arms. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's just," He unknowingly digs himself into a deeper hole, "You seem rather comfortable."

Her face goes blank, and the way she holds herself indicates he's just drawn attention to something he absolutely should not have, not under any circumstances. "Do I?' She counters, her gaze cool.

Louis interjects with a firm chirp, crossing the table again to his mother. Chirps twice more.

There's a staring match happening over his head. Unacceptable. He screeches, LOUDLY, and both of them cover their ears.

"Louis."

Louis stops immediately, looking toward the source of the authoritative command, right at the same time as Hawthorne blurts, "Okay, fine! I'll admit it, he's not that bad."

Well. Louis looks between the two of them, each as hopeless as the other. He chitters at Zavala, a kind, understanding warning, and nips at the fringe of Hawthorne's sleeve, underside of his beak and the downy feathers of his belly against her hand before taking flight.

They stare at each other some more.

"So," Zavala hedges. "This paperwork-"

"Yes," Hawthorne agrees, taking up her pen. "Right."

They work in silence, unwilling to discuss what's just happened.

Moments - days, hours, minutes, all of it deafening - pass.

"You'll owe him belly pets. He doesn't forget." Hawthorne doesn't look up from her work, so he too forces his head back down. The words on the report in front of him could be encrypted, for how hard he's focusing on listening. "Start at his breast, not too close to the underside of his beak, and stroke down. Two knuckles, kind of like what you did before."

"I can do that," He confirms, softly.

"Stroke only in the direction of the feathers. He's can tell when you’re paying attention to him. If you lose focus while you're petting him and stop, he'll nip. And he'll only warn you once before he draws blood, trust me."

"Why are you-"

"Louis likes you," She says slowly, still keeping her eyes on her current page. He can't see what expression she's wearing, but a sneaked glance tells him she's not seeing what she's reading, either. "And if you're going to be friends, you ought to know what he likes."

There are several things he could say, but what comes out instead is a humble "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

-/

Three days later, Amanda nudges her from where they stand, backs to the traveler, looking out over the mountains. "He looks like he's back to normal."

"Yeah," Hawthorne agrees.

"So," Amanda elbows her, smirking slyly, "What happened with his lady friend?"

Louis swoops around in an elegant circle, away and back, an agile speck in the clear blue sky.

"What lady friend?"

Amanda kicks at the railing a bit. "You reckoned he got shut down. Isn't that what-"

She stops. Hawthorne isn't paying attention to her. Louis has changed trajectory, soaring over the Tower now, but low enough to avoid any errant jet turbines. She turns to follow him with her gaze. He cries out, loud, free, and swoops low, dive-bombing Cayde. 

The Hunter swivels around, no doubt looking for Hawthorne to yell at - likely to mention that Colonel is far better behaved. (That's a farce, Colonel is as much of an escape artist as Cayde tries to be. The Shipwright has plucked her out of many a cockpit in the last few months.) Therefore, Hawthorne and Amanda ignore him.

In the meantime, Louis lands on the railing that looks out over the Traveler, directly beside Zavala. He looks up at the stoic sentinel and trills a single note. Behind his back, Zavala's right hand pulls the glove off his left, hardly noticeable from his usual stance.

But then his hand comes up, impossibly strong, impossible gentle, knuckles grazing the peregrine's belly. Louis shudders and settles, letting out a satisfied, docile coo.

"He's really got a way with wild things," Amanda comments, not realizing the gravity of it. 

"Guess so," Hawthorne answers breezily, trying to ignore the way stomach flips.

He really, really does.

[shirtlesssammy]

4x07: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

We’ve already recapped the closest episode to a Thanksgiving episode Supernatural has so we thought we’d pick another holiday episode this week. Since Cas and Sam’s friendship is getting a little more screen time this season, we thought we’d go back to the beginning and recap the episode where they meet. Yay!

Then:

This badass graced our screens for the first time.

Now:

Ah, Halloween. A young mother comes home loaded down with a literal bucket of candy. Her husband wants to taste test for quality control, but she shoos him away. She then heads upstairs to give their baby a bath --the husband coming in a minute. First, he needs to sneak in a few pieces of candy!

After eating a piece, the husband starts to gag, and finds a razor lodged in his mouth. He starts coughing up blood and razors and dies on the kitchen floor just in time for his wife and baby to find him.

One Day Before Halloween

Agents Sam and Dean are interviewing, Mrs. Wallace, the victim’s wife. Dean finds a hexbag. Sam asks about enemies her husband might have had.

Back at their hotel, Sam is researching the contents of the hexbag. Dean is scarfing down candy (razors or not, I agree with your plan, Dean!). Neither brother can find a reason for Luke Wallace’s death.

At a Halloween party (no booze=lame), Jenny and Tracy, who are clearly rivaling for one dude’s attention (NOT WORTH IT), arrive to assess the lameness. Tracy decides to liven the festivities up by bobbing for apples. Jenny follows, only she gets stuck under the water while it starts to boil and she dies a horrible burning death that I can’t imagine.

Later, Sam and Dean arrive at the crime scene. Dean is gross. Sam finds a hexbag.

While researching the second death, Sam discovers that this might be part of a spell. “Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.” This spell is summoning a demon. Samhain to be exact. (My headcanon is that they mispronounce Samhain because they’re in a completely different universe than ours.) This ritual can only take place once every 600 years. This year just happens to be that year. Of Course! When Samhain rises, every evil and bad thing Sam and Dean fight will rise with him.

On a stakeout, Dean continues to eat his Hell stress away.

While he’s complaining to Sam on the phone, he watches Tracy walk up to the Wallace house. Son of a bitch.

This is A Look:

Sam finds some dirt on Tracy. She’s been suspended from school in the past for an altercation with a teacher. They head to the school.

In the art room, Dean sees horrific masks that clearly remind him of Hell. “Bring back memories?” Sam asks. OUCH. Sam was just talking about high school though (of which Dean didn’t really get to experience and didn’t finish.) Don, the art teacher, comes in and the brothers ask about their altercation. “I was only trying to rap with her about her work.” Far out, man. But really, it seems that Tracy’s art was getting a bit too violent for school appropriate work. Cryptic symbols and gory drawings. The brothers wonder where Tracy is now, and Don reveals that she lives in an apartment.

Later, the boys reconvene at their motel. Tracy is AWOL. A little trick or treater is eager for candy.

Dean ate it all. Then he fat shames the poor kid. The kid has a death stare to end all death stares so I think he’s winning. (Natasha: #TeamKidAstronaut)

Sam forges ahead of Dean and finds an intruder in their room.

“Who are you?!”

“Sam! Sam, wait! It’s Castiel.”

(I just love that both Sam and Mary got to meet Cas the same way --with guns drawn and Dean rushing over to stop them.)

There’s Bunny Colvin another angel there as well, but Dean doesn’t know him.

Sam is SUCH A CUTE BEAN meeting Cas. He’s so flustered and excited. And Cas just poops all over his excitement.

He calls him the boy with the demon blood and congratulates him on stopping his “extracurricular activities.” He then asks Dean if they’ve stopped the rising of Samhain. They haven’t. And now the witch is wise to them. Cas found a hexbag in their room.

AAGGHH, Cas is foreign and formal and he doesn’t even look at Dean (haha, they’ll have plenty of time to stare and stare at each other in the next scene.) Cas informs the brothers that the rising of Samhain will break one of the 66 seals. It must be stopped.

For Posterity:

Uriel, the other angel, is a specialist and he’s here to destroy the town. Dean is incredulous. They can’t destroy this town. Cas is thinking big picture though --destroy the town, save humanity.

Dean’s got to stare think on that.

Sam is incredulous too. “No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to – You’re supposed to show mercy.” Lol, Sam, welcome to the reality of angels on Supernatural. It is a bit crushing to watch Sam’s faith get burnt a bit here. Dean then pulls out the Free Will big guns and asks Cas, “You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Cas bites back with a rhetorical question about John Winchester. Dean’s digging his heels in though. If they’re going to destroy this town, they’re going to destroy Sam and Dean along with it.

Cas acquiesces.

Dean and Sam emerge to find Baby egged. BABY. Heads will roll for this, I swear to god. (Uh, #TeamKidAstronaut?)

In the car, Sam contemplates the hex bag and confronts his disappointment with the righteously dickish reality of angels. Dean urges Sam to not abandon his faith. (Dean Bean!) Sam gently absorbs this moment of brotherly insight and then realizes that the charred bone in the hex bag was cooked by an industrial heat source. Moment. Over.

At the school's art room they narrow the bone char down to the kiln and find a heavily locked drawer in the teacher's desk. In the drawer they find a bowl of children's bones. Blegh.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Uriel hang out in a park, Uriel casually dropping insults to humanity so fast it's like he's on an I HATE HUMANS game show.

Cas admonishes Uriel for maligning God's favored creations and counsels him to settle down and wait to see what happens with Dean and Sam. Uriel proposes yoinking the Winchesters elsewhere before blowing the town straight to Hell, but Cas tells him they need to follow their “true orders,” whatever those are.

On Halloween night, costumed children walk past creepy garden displays while within one very normal looking house, the girl from earlier is held captive in the basement of the witch/teacher's house. He creepily draws his knife down her breast (ew), raising his arm for the killing blow (jerk), when his chest gets riddled with holes. It's the Winchesters! Yay! They save the totally innocent girl, who backs away and begins to...sneer at her dead witch brother on the floor. Before the Winchesters can kill her she power blasts them across the room and presumably holds onto their guts (or their balls?) while she monologues.

While she works a spell to bring Samhain into the world, Sam smears blood over his face and that of his brother's. Is it the latest facial trend? Time will tell. The floor splits open and black demon fog emerges. It gives Sam and Dean the miss and then swoops into Don’s dead body.

“My love,” the witch greets Samhain with a kiss (me: gags at the incestual overtones). He greets her with, “You've aged.” EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Samhain clearly isn’t one for loving reunions because he immediately snaps her neck and surveys his surroundings. It's time to PAR-TAY. He stares at Dean and Sam, who lie still on the floor, and then shambles past them. After he leaves, Dean asks Sam about the blood. It turns out, Sam gave them both a nice blood mask because masks are what people used to use to hide from Samhain. Nice work, Sam! As an added bonus, that blood mask should also keep away the bunnies. (You're welcome, Dean?) Samhain stumbles through town, past unsuspecting costumed children. Dean and Sam race for the cemetery to head him off.

Sam proposes whipping out his super magic psychic mojo to fight Samhain. Dean begs him to not use his power, handing off Ruby's knife instead.

At the crypt, the not-mourning-their-friend-at-all teens throw their Halloween party when they hear a noise. It's definitely not the cops, unless the cops are six feet tall, undead, and covered in blood. Samhain locks the confused kids into the vault and walks away again without a word. Oooookay. And then behind them, the vaults begin to rattle. The dead are coming out. Sort of. They pull kids into the vaults like sand worms and shoot out viscera, blood canon-style. Dean finds them, shoots out the lock, and joins the party - I mean, saves the kids.

It’s zombie dance off time, baby.

Sam heads off to fight Samhain, who tries and fails to power blast Sam.

They engage in fisticuffs, a demon’s favorite way to hold an ultimate battle. Sam uses his powers to suck the demon essence from Samhain and send him back to Hell, but Samhain's strong. He advances, step by step. It's slow enough that Dean has time to head upstairs and witness his brother mind-whammy the demon straight back to Hell. Err....awkward.

Samhain filters back down to Hell, leaving the Winchesters to shoot sad puppy eyes at each other instead.

The next day, they pack up and get ready to leave. Uriel zaps in to rub salt in the wound, and tells Sam that he was told not to use his powers. Sam tells Uriel that his powers saved the town, thank you very much. Uriel uses his wings to flap about 4 feet across the room so that he lands right in front of Sam's face. DRAMA LLAMA ALERT. Uriel threatens to annihilate Sam as soon as Heaven doesn't need him anymore. “As for your brother,” Uriel advises Sam, he should “climb off that high horse of his.” Sam should ask Dean about what he remembers from Hell. (Us, in a chorus: we wish we couldn't feel a damn thing.)

At the same playground where Cas and Uriel observed humanity, Dean sits contemplatively on the park bench.

Cas appears on the other bench and Dean gives him a less-than-warm welcome. “You're here for the I told you so.” Nope. In fact, Cas tells Dean that their true orders weren't to stop the summoning of Samhain. Instead, their orders were to do whatever Dean and Sam told them to do.

“It was a test to see how you might perform under battlefield conditions.” Dean loves this revelation (not). He defiantly tells Cas that he saved the town – including the kids playing in front of them. And that's enough for him.

Cas reveals that he was praying for Dean and Sam to save the town. “These people – they're all my father's creations. They're works of art.” With the Samhain seal broken, they're one step closer to Hell for everyone on Earth and Cas and Dean share a knowing moment about the reality of Hell's horrors. “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Cas asks. “I'm not a...hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.” He tells Dean the coming months will continue to test him. It's clear they'll test Cas as well. Cas flaps out.

What in the Sam-Quotes is this?

It’s Halloween, man.

Those little dudes are scary. Small hands.

Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would, hmm…

For us, every day is Halloween.

You're angels! You're supposed to show mercy.

There's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission.

Babe Ruth's a dick but baseball's still a beautiful game.

Zombie ghost orgy, huh? Well, that's it. I'm torching everybody.

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[dantetv]

It was a story...

It was a story...

Ed bent over to pick up the next box off the truck and laid it on the loading dock. Sun wasn't quite up yet, the wind still had a chill to it from the night. A few stars decorated the sky still. But the ache in his arms pretty much occupied his mind. He looked into the truck at the remaining thirty or so bigger boxes, then just sat down on the dock.

Needed a minute, Ed thought. Few more months, then he'd retire. Maybe Malibu. Or someplace warm. Eh, who was he kidding? Probably just ignore the world til Christmas. Maybe longer. He looked up as a couple walked by. Plainly but nicely dressed, they looked like they had Asian features. He caught the eye of one, who gave him a nod. Then a wink. They kept on walking up the street, probably for breakfast.

Ed shook his head. He imagined the wink, had to. It was almost like they knew him. He stood up, shaking his head again then hands to loosen them up. Get distracted too easy these days Ed, he thought. Gotta stay focused on your work. Wasnt like there was a going to be a 'flash of light' or something that would appear out of thin air. He took the little blue egg-sized stress ball from his pocket, giving it a few pumps in each hand. Need to get my focus, Ed thought. Bang out this last batch of boxes then head over to Gregg's Shop for a slice and a cup of coffee. Could've eaten breakfast first. But with all the idiots that come flying in to unload thinking they are entitled to their own special spot on the dock, just ain't worth the aggravation. Tho watching that one guy gets into an argument with a lady over her delivery yesterday was priceless. Beat the shit out of Jerry Springer. Best guess is the guy did a bid on the delivery, parcel unseen, in a fit of rage to beat out another shipper. However, he didn't realize what she had wasn't a movie prop. It was full-scale, military grade. He tried to weasel his way out of it, saying he didn't have licenses after she blew up when he tried to hit her up for money. No shit. He can still hear her words echoing all over the dock at the top of her lungs.

"But how am I going to get my field cannon home????"

Ed was just waiting to see after the guy finally left her in the lurch if she was going to load it up and blast his ass. Would've been funny as hell. Tho anyone asked, he didn't see shit. But when he came in this morning, it was gone. Wonder what kind of home she had that she needed a field cannon. Or for that matter, why the hell she needed one. Ed heard a noise in the corner, a rat looked like it had been in a fight with something and was flailing in a puddle of trash. Didn't look so good, tho no reason anything should need to suffer an end like that. Ed took out a broomstick and moved away from the trash, flipping a piece of string that had gotten tangled around the rat's neck. There ya go, little fellow, Ed thought. The rat did a few flips on its sides before righting itself. After a minute, it ran down a dark side of the wall out of Ed's sight.

Ed then heard the sound of a bicycle tire squeal and a young voice call to him. Shoot, he forgot. He waved at the voice and walked into the trailer, grabbing a large stack of papers. As he came out, he dropped the papers on the dock in front of a young boy, wearing a ball cap and jacket. The kid already had his swiss army knife out, cutting the string and starting to roll the papers into a bag he had.

Ed smiled. Nice to see a kid up early, trying to make some money for some sort of dooflicky thing. Wasn't sure if it was a video game, book, or someplace the kid wanted to go to. Maybe it was a movie he meant. Ed didn't know nor did he ask. The kid was on a schedule and he wasn't going to mess with his mojo. Ed went back into the truck for another box and came back out, noticing a tall man standing by the lamp post watching them. He looked like a mortician. Probably some guy that had a long night partying and wound up here to sober up. Didn't seem like a freak and the kid didn't seem fazed. It had been a very long time since Ed saw any form of law enforcement down here. Have to think on over coffee the last time it was later.

Ed turned his back, the young voice saying something as it trailed off. Ed turned back around, watching the kid disappear on his bike. The tall man in black was gone. Heck, for that matter, Ed seemed to be the only one around. The kid had left a paper for him, one of the extras they get in case one gets damaged when they're delivering them. He glanced over the headlines, reports of the death of Harry Stone, some great TV producer. His stars were planning a benefit in honor of him for some charity or another. Probably wanting to use it as a launching event for a new company while there was still some of Harry's warmth in people's minds. Or wherever they wanted it.

Ed flipped it to the back, some ads for alcohol and small news story on another death in Millville. Cub reporter, Ed thought. It was only a few lines. But it got this kid their first credit. Gotta start somewhere, Ed thought.

Ed went back into the trailer and grabbed what looked like a light box. Idiot kids liked to do it ass backward, lifting all the heavy stuff then the light. It all has to get unloaded. This way, he could have more room to shimmy the heavy stuff out. Ed had just placed one foot on the dock when the bottom of the box opened and its contents spilled out. Ed cursed, flipping the box over and tossing the contents back in before anyone saw anything. The top was still taped so he could just fake...

It was a hat that stopped him. A Totenkopf. He froze for a moment, then pulled himself together and threw it all in the box. It wasn't his business nor his shipment. He didn't even want to know why there was a pair of black stiletto boots in there. He got it all back in and folded the box together.

Shit, he thought. That took a lot out of him. Ed was feeling the need more and more for that coffee. Just to take the edge off, he thought. He started to go back into the trailer, then just shook his head. Naw, I gotta get the coffee. A few minutes later, Ed was still laughing after the service Gregg gave some tourist about their food. Gregg was in rare form, dousing the entire plate of pancakes in syrup. Then he set it on fire. There's your crepes, he said. Yea. Gregg....

Ed stopped in his tracks. The trailer he was unloading was gone. All the stuff he unloaded was also gone. But that was impossible. This town was too small for theft like this. Plus any truck that could haul this thing would have made a ton of noise going past the coffee shop. Ed checked his watch and the clocks in the loading dock office. They said the same thing, he was only gone for five minutes. Absolutely no way. Ed thought he might have been finally starting to lose it when he saw the newspaper the kid had left him was still in the office. Ads for frying pans and the new Pixie camera plus the article on the Millville Deep deaths.

He went back out, jumping off the loading dock and into the yard. It was all pavement, so no tracks. Ed then noticed a woman in all black holding up a lamp post across the road from the dock. He opened the gate and started walking towards her. She took a long draw on the cigarette she was smoking.

'Ed, we have a deal.' she said. 'I can do my thing until sunrise without hassle. We agreed to that.'

Ed nodded. 'Yea, yea. Don't care. I do care about what happened to the trailer I was unloading this morning. Did you see who took it?'

The woman took another draw on her cigarette, weighing her options as to whether or not it was worth asking for money. Before she spoke, Ed already had a $20 in his hand. Her eyes riveted to it, her top starting to open reflexively when she caught herself. Ed smiled. 'Just the info. I already had my breakfast.' She grabbed the $20, tho Ed didn't let it go. 'And what happened..', Ed asked?

The woman took a last hit on the cigarette, then dropped it to the ground and crushed it out.

TO BE CONTINUED...

MILLVILLE DEEP MYSTERY An Acme Detective Agency Campaign

[awed-frog]

So, the cuestion about writing it's just... I love writing, I love reading, I love my ideas and I really believe they're good ideas, but I can't finish them and I really don't know why. I thought maybe it was bc I had to plan them better, or bc I had to let myself just write and see what happens in the moment; I thought maybe the problem it's that I should tell them in a different way (like for a comic that then I could draw) but nothing I do works and it really hurts

Hi there! Thanks for writing back! So, what you’re describing is really a common feeling - I think most writers or artists have felt this way and can recognize what you’re describing. I’m going to talk about my experience, and I hope you can find something that you can relate to and that can be helpful to you.

The tl;dr part is, I think there are many possible causes for not being able to finish a story. Here are a few of them:

you’re having technical problems

you’re too much of a perfectionist 

you can’t put on paper what’s in your head

you’re having what I call ‘the Vermeer problem’

you have too many ideas for other stories and can’t focus

you’re experiencing a lack of support for your writing

you are bored with your own story

you’re afraid to finish the story

you can’t finish the story

you can’t tell these things apart

Let’s have a look at them, and remember - I’m talking about my experience here, so this might not apply to you at all. I’m just talking into the void hoping this will help you in some way.

1) This is the most common problem for someone who’s only just starting out. You know your beginning should capture the readers’ attention, but you don’t know how to make that happen. You know the ending should be spectacular and magically solve every issue, but you don’t know how to get there. Since we are rarely taught creative writing in school, this is completely normal, and there’s no easy way to get past it. Like for everything else, you’ll need a lot of practice, and maybe some kind of formal instruction (for instance, this is a good book, but there are many more). So, you know - do what works for you. Maybe join a writers’ club, or an online challenge. Read and reread books you like, and remember to read them ‘with the mind-set of a carpenter looking at trees,’ as Terry Pratchett put it. If you can, write every day - I find codas are a great way to practice, get better and get read (and if you’re comfortable to, you can ask your readers for pointers or criticism). Not being very good at writing is a big problem, but it’s also a problem you can solve. 

2) Being a perfectionist is one of those things that often trips you up more than it helps you, and there are some areas of your life - relationships, foreign languages, writing - where you have to let go of it. If this is an issue for you, remember that everyone is crap when they start out (do you know the original lyrics to Beatles classic Yesterday? ew!) and maybe experiment with breathing exercises, with yoga, or try writing with a soundtrack to get out of your mind a little. So, really - I’m not saying perfectionism is bad, but save it for your baking efforts and last drafts - your first draft gets to be as crappy as it likes.

3) This is a very common problem. When you do creative things, be it writing music or quilting, there’s often a great deal of anxiety and dissatisfaction in finally starting a project because the more your work, the less it looks the way you’d imagined it would. Sometimes I write something that’s supposed to be sad, or that was hilarious and sexy inside my head, and the I reread it and it’s just - flat. This happens to virtually everyone, but there’s something very important we need to remember: in the words of Jim Sollisch, “Writing is the art of figuring out what you know, not the process of recording what you already know”. Think about it like this: the inside of your head is a different country. Writing down a story is like finally getting to that city you’ve been wanting to visit for ages and ages - sure, you’ve seen all the IG pictures and you’ve planned your visit and you’ve fainted and drooled over museum websites and recipes of traditional dishes, but now you’re here, and it’s real, and it’s different. You’re here, and maybe it’s raining, and maybe that famous art gallery is closed on Sundays, and maybe that blueberry pie is way, way too sweet for your taste, but still - you’re here. Isn’t it wonderful? You can smell this city and walk down its street and discover small secret corners you never even knew existed and maybe fall in love with this one person you never ever thought you’d meet. So this, to me, is a necessary step to writing: to accept that daydreaming is good, that planning can be useful, but when the time comes, you have to let go of all of that and discover the reality of what your story is like.

4) I don’t know if you read Tracy Chevalier’s Girl with a Pearl Earring - it’s a favourite of mine, and I reread it a couple of times because I love how she writes UST, how understated and yet vibrantly present the feeling is. And anyway, towards the end of the book, the portrait is finished - this one, I mean -

- and everybody says Vermeer should finally sell it and start painting something else - only, Vermeer is not happy. He takes to spending hours in his studio - not painting, not working - just staring at the thing, because it’s beautiful and balanced and textbook perfect, but something is missing and he doesn’t know what (if you haven’t, please read the book and find out how he solves this, because it’s really beautiful). This is a feeling I often have when I read a first draft - everything that I wanted in there is in there, but something still feels - off. And here, I think, there’s no magic way of solving the problem - you can either ask a beta for help, and hope they see it, or you can keep working on it (and reading other stuff, and practicing, and getting better) until you see it yourself. 

5) This is another familiar feeling: you start writing something and BAM, you’re distracted by something else. And here, you need to find out what kind of person you are, because some blessed people can work on two projects at once, and others just can’t. Me, I always fool myself and think, ‘I’ll just work on both things, a week has seven days, how hard can it be’ - but nope. Right now, for instance, I’ve got about thirty books of Roman history on my desk because there was this story screaming at me and deafening me and I really wanted to get it out of my head, but today I’m finally giving up and bringing all that stuff back to the library and accepting this is not going to happen - not right now. Not as long as I’m writing a different story and I’m in a completely different headspace. And if you’re the same way - just keep a folder, or a notebook, and fill it with these half ideas and pieces of dialogue and then put them out of your mind. One story at a time - that’s a good and reasonable goal. Because another problem of a beautiful and tantalizing scenario popping into your mind when you’re struggling to finish a chapter for something else is - that other thing is automatically going to look more appealing, because it’s not real, because it’s untested, because you haven’t ruined it yet. And that’s why you’re tempted to abandon that stupid thing you’ve got in your hands that’s not working and go pursue something else. But, again, that’s probably not the best idea. Sometimes you just need to see a story through, no matter what.

6) That said, it’s hard to finish a story when you’re keeping it to yourself. I used to be paranoid about sharing things, but fanfiction helped me to appreciate the importance of feedback. So even if you’re writing original fiction, it could be a good idea to give fanfiction a try - signing up for a bang could help you to stay motivated and focused (you’ll have a beta, and maybe an artist!), and writing codas will usually get you some attention, because many people will automatically look for codas and ‘missing scenes’ after the end of an episode. If you’re not interested in that, consider sharing your work with a friend, a teacher, or a writers’ group. 

7) This is a tough one. Maybe you’re writing fanfiction and fall out of love with the show. Maybe you’re writing original fiction but you’re no longer interested in the story. It’s okay - not every story is meant to be. You’re allowed to give up (and you never know - there are writers who go back to their manuscripts ten years later, so I would advise against burning everything in a fit or rage). The trick here is giving up for the right reasons, so before you decide to walk away, look at your story again and ask yourself: what is it that’s not working? Could this get better with a new, exciting character? Should I drop this stale plot twist? Go with a different ending? If you can get your mojo back by shifting the pieces around, give it another try; but if the whole thing’s just a chore, and you simply lost interest, move on.

8) Many of us have a problem with endings. Ending a story usually means leaving your characters behind, and close a period of your life. If you write longer stories, fics and novels are like songs - they’re usually tied to very specific moments, and in letting them go you also let a part of yourself go. Plus, there’s always a lot of pressure on getting the ending right, because that can make or break a story, and it’s often the moment when big things happen - maybe there’s a slowburn that’s getting real, and you’re afraid the long awaited kiss won’t measure up to the fireworks display you implicitly promised your readers. Or maybe someone’s dying, and you’re not ready to say goodbye. Or maybe the big plot twist you’ve been teasing forever and ever just seems childish now, and you’re not sure how to make it more impressive. Whatever the reason, endings are hard. But, again, don’t put too much pressure on yourself. A lot of things can change between your first and last draft, so you have some time there. If you’re writing fanfiction, your readers will appreciate to finally know what happens, and if you’re hoping to publish your manuscript, an editor will probably help you to shift things around and make them better. Plus, as difficult as it is to say goodbye to this world you know intimately well, there’s also a sense of relief in finishing anything that takes up so much of your time and soul. It feels good. So: breathe. Relax. Write. 

9) A distinct problem is that you objectively can’t finish the story, or even get past the middle, or past two pages of heartbreaking dialogue, because you simply don’t know enough about that world yet. You have this great idea but you’d need to be an expert in microbiology, or cordon bleu cuisine, or deep space, to make it work. Or maybe you’re daydreaming about your very own Westeros, but your writing keeps getting interrupted by stupid, yet necessary details (how far away are these two cities? how fast can horses travel? what kind of swear words would a character with a made-up religion use?). If you’re devoted to your story, and determined to make it work, you’ll need to do research and plan and get answers to your questions before starting to write too extensively, because the wrong scientific detail can make your entire plot collapse. And the thing is, doing research is not always possible. Maybe you don’t have time right now, or access to the right resources (speaking of, there are some excellent blogs here on tumblr that will help you with making stuff more believable - a favourite of mine is @howtofightwrite). So, it’s painful, but there are some projects that need to be postponed, and others that will probably never happen at all. 

10) Finally, a big problem is that sometimes it’s hard to tell these things apart. Are you bored with your story because you can’t write a certain scene, or is it just a boring story? Are you being a perfectionist, or is this chapter actually out of balance and weird? Is this ambitious story too much for your current skills and knowledge, or are you just giving up? There is no easy answer to these questions, which is why I think it’s important to not walk away too easily - maybe come back when you’re in a better mood, or change your writing soundtrack, or set up a fake interview with yourself explaining why you’re so happy your novel is now taught in every school in America. If you can’t write, try drawing. If you can’t draw, create a moodboard for your characters, or a fake Wikipedia entry for your imaginary country. Play around with your story. Switch POVs. Create walls. Write scenes you won’t necessarily include in your final draft - get your characters trapped in an elevator, have them fired, have them hurt someone, or reminisce on childhood memories, or trudge through a really bad day. Go through writing prompts or shower thoughts or creepy Wikipedia entries and write something about that. Try to truly be honest with yourself, day after day (maybe keep a diary?), so you can get better at understanding whether it’s time to power through or time to take a break. 

Finally, I think that engaging in creative activities, whatever they may be, should be a way to make your life better, not worse. There are times when you’re just not inspired, times when you have zero ideas and zero wish to write or art or do anything, times when it’s actually better to focus on other things - your studies, your work, traveling, relationships - so that one day you’ll have something to write about. And that’s okay. Writing is like life - it’s messy, and it changes, and you change, and you just have to be patient with yourself and find a balance between loving the hell out of it and not take it too seriously. I hope this could help with getting you started, and I wish you all the best for your life and those stories crowding inside you, waiting to be told.

[formerprincess]

Our little paradise

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken Words:  3118 Theo and Liam just enjoy a quiet afternoon after work. Just the two of them, no interruptions, and Theo could not be happier.

Also read on Ao3

Theo walked into the workshop and his nostrils flared when the familiar scent of gasoline, grease, sweat, and metal hit them. It was a scent he grew to like since he lived right above the workshop. He associated it with home, something Theo had not known for a long time. But things had changed since then, since he had come back to Beacon Hills to find a way into Scott McCall’s pack and destroy it from the inside, since the Dread Doctors, the Wild Hunt, the war. He had friends now, a pack even, and together they had graduated high school and even attended the same college. Yes, he, Theo Raeken, was part of something that wasn’t evil, wasn’t created to destroy something else. He was part of something good.

Good. Life was truly good, maybe even perfect, at the moment. Sure, there were still supernatural shenanigans happening, there were still hunters, and sometimes Scott had to call his gang together to defeat whatever came lurking, but they mostly had a regular life.

“I wasn’t aware you’re working as a pizza delivery guy now but I won’t complain either and gladly accept this. Just put the pizza here,” a deep voice shook Theo from his thoughts and he turned his head. The guy, Mojo, bigger than Theo himself (yes Theo was aware he wasn’t the tallest but this guy probably was taller than Derek Hale and twice as broad) with a buzz cut and a lightning bold shaved to the side of his head smirked at him. Theo had no idea how old Mojo really was, his guess would be 31/32 but really, it was just a guess. But Mojo was like a human teddy bear and incredibly funny. A woman with her brunette hair tied in a messy bun smirked and the corner of her eyes crinkled. “I’m sure this is just a bribe to let his other half leave earlier.” “Neither. This is our dinner and I will fight you both for this pizza,” Theo declared and grinned. “Yet, if you would let him leave earlier, Kiki…” The woman pointed a finger at him in a playful threat. “You’re getting way too sneaky, mister!” She laughed. “But who am I to get between guys and their dinner? He’s over there, showering his one true love with attention.” “I’m his one true love,” Theo reminded her with a chuckle but turned around again and ventured into the direction Kiki had pointed him. It wasn’t long until he reached the end of the bike shop and smiled at the picture in front of him.

Over the years Theo had not only found friendship and a place to belong, he had also found love. And that from a side he never expected it from in the beginning. Because if someone had told eighteen-year-old him he would be in love with Liam Dunbar, Scott’s angry Baby Beta, and they would be in a committed relationship, he would have laughed. Yes, Liam and he had become friends, but love? Even if Theo might have nursed a little crush on the younger man, Liam would have never returned his feelings. And yet, one of their many discussions had ended with Liam huffing out a breath and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I want to strangle you almost as much as I want to kiss you, asshole,” he had said and Theo was not proud of it but he had gaped at him. Liam had given him a funny look but then obviously registered what he had said because he started to gesticulate wildly and tried to explain himself. “Oh fuck! I didn’t want to tell you like that! This is not how I pictured it!” “You want to kiss me?” Theo had asked weakly and Liam groaned and his hand movements contained Theo’s whole appearance. “Can you blame me? You have this going on.” It had hurt to know Liam was attracted to him just based on his looks while Theo really fell in love with Liam’s everything, his looks as well as his good heart, but he had nodded and put on a brave face. “So you want sex.” Liam had shrugged. “Sex, dates, a relationship, the usual stuff, you know?” And again, Theo had gaped which caused Liam to roll his eyes. “Seriously? I’m aware I’m bad with words but I thought I made myself very clear right now. I am not only attracted to you because you’re hotter than the sun, but I also feel very attracted to your character and would very much like to date you. Stop staring at me like a freaking goldfish. Turn me down so we can go on with our normal lives and I can crawl into a hole and die of mortification.”

Theo’s brain had not functioned properly because he would have loved to tell Liam how amazing he was, how happy this made Theo, and waxed poetically about the other’s whole self, but he just had managed a weak “Yes.” “Yes, what?” Liam had asked. “Yes to the date. To all of it, really.” They had stared at each other, Liam with narrowed eyes while he tried to figure out if Theo was joking or not, Theo still trying to figure out what the hell happened. Long story short, both overcame the initial shock of the sudden reveal and had decided to try this relationship thing with each other.

Fast forward two, almost three, years and you had them today. Still absolutely in love, living together in the apartment right above the motorcycle workshop Liam worked in. Life could not be better for Theo at the moment: An amazing boyfriend, a cool apartment, and a job where he could be creative and express himself through his art. They had to thank Liam’s grandpa for finding this little piece of home. After his death, Liam had come in contact with his grandfather’s best friend Rod who owned the workshop. They had met to reminisce the man they both had held so dear and Rod had inducted Liam to the world of motorcycle and workshops, repair, and tunings, and also the joy of riding one of those steel horses. Ilona Geyer had not been overly excited to see her son on such a thing but after she realized how happy Liam was to ride a motorcycle she had caved in and smiled. The people working in the shop had taken a great liking to Liam- he was an adorable puppy when he wanted to be - and had soon become part of his family. Kiki and her husband Jay had taken over the shop when Rod had retired and offered Liam a job in their shop. Liam could do what he liked, work with the motorcycles and also work on his own motorcycle, a blue Harley Davidson Fat Boy, on the side, what else could be better. And Theo found a job at the tattoo parlor right next to the workshop. His boss Bean (“My name is Gregory but nobody calls me that! It’s Bean.”) was also a friend of Rod, Kiki, and the others and he and Theo talked often. He saw some of Theo’s drawings one day and offered to take him in as an apprentice. Theo had not really thought about doing a creative job but he took the chance because he was curious. And now he was a quite popular artist in the shop, had his regulars, and loved what he was doing. Tattoos were a way for people to express themselves and he loved to help them with it a little bit.

Several tattoos adorned his own body as well, the newest piece being a Dias de Los Muertos woman on his right shoulder blade. Liam had suggested that one special tattoo after Theo had awoken from yet another nightmare. He had said he liked the Mexican holiday and the thought that the dead were never that far away and instead watched over their families. His boyfriend had suggested it would help Theo cope with the lingering guilt about Tara’s death and see a slightly more positive outlook on death, maybe even the hope to once get the chance to make up with his sister. Theo had battled the thought for weeks, going over the pros and cons, and finally decided to do it. He now loved the ink on his skin.

He wasn’t the only one with tattoos on his skin. Liam, for example, had also taken quite a liking to the ink art. The head of a howling wolf on his leg, and several other motifs on his arms and back. The first two tattoos had been done by Bean but the rest, every single one after that, had been done by Theo. There was something about Liam not only wearing something he drew but something he inked on Liam’s skin. It gave him a strange sense of possessiveness and belonging.

Liam’s style had changed in general since the first time Theo met him. He wasn’t looking like America’s sweetheart anymore, not like the typical jock, but his style had become a bit rougher around the edges. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, punk shirts, and due to his work in the bike shop, more tanks, and flannels. It wasn’t unusual to find him with dirt and grease on his hands and on his face and the smell of gasoline and grease always merged with his natural scent. Theo was here for that, he loved his boyfriend looking like that. Liam’s hair was shorter these days, shorter than it had been in high school, but the manual work had given him a new body feeling and since he often worked outside and mostly in a tank, he had a nice tan going on. He looked ridiculously hot if you asked Theo but maybe he was a little biased (He, after all, knew what Liam could do with this body...)

When he found Liam now, the younger male knelt in front of his motorcycle and oiled it. He wore a white loose fitting tank top and dark jeans, littered with oil stains. It had been a bit colder in the morning so Liam had worn a white-red flannel shirt which was now wrapped around his waist. He had not spotted Theo yet, too focused on his task, and Theo smirked. He was like that when it came to tattoos. “I’m aware you love this thing a lot but I brought pizza.”

Liam looked up and smiled when he saw Theo. “Hey, you.” His blue eyes sparkled with happiness and he grabbed the cloth next to him to clean his fingers. “How could I say No to pizza?” “Just to pizza? Not spending time with me? I am hurt, Liam.” “I know I will never say No to spending time with you.” Liam stepped closer to Theo and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Stop being a drama king.” Theo pouted playfully. “Only if I get a real kiss.” “I am greasy and sweaty.” Liam laughed and it coaxed a happy smile from Theo. “Liam, we literally kissed when we were bloodied and full of Gargoyle slime. This will be half as bad.” “Okay.” Liam grinned and then captured Theo’s lips with his in a sweet kiss. Even after three years, it made Theo happy and he eagerly returned the kiss. “Come on, Kiki said you could leave,” he then told his boyfriend and motioned towards the back door of the shop. It was the fastest way to get to their apartment instead of walking around the whole garage. “Yeah, leave before you start making out on Liam’s bike like the last time!” Kiki called from somewhere and the two young men snickered. Liam threw his rag in a container. “See you tomorrow, guys!” He yelled and then left the workshop with Theo.

They reached their apartment over some stairs and Liam unlocked the door. The space above the shop had originally not even been an apartment, more like some unused space. Theo and Liam had taken a lot of time and effort to turn it into a loft-like apartment where they could actually live. It was big enough for the two of them and their two Tamaskan dogs Aka and Koda who now came to greet them happily and then returned to chewing their favorite toys. The apartment even held space enough in case they ever wanted to add another member to their family and adopt a child, but that was something they had not discussed yet and didn’t feel the need to at the moment. They were not even married yet and enjoyed their time together.

“I’m taking a quick shower, you can already start eating,” Liam muttered and pressed a quick kiss against Theo’s cheek when he walked towards the bathroom. The door closed behind him and Theo carried the pizza box into the kitchen to grabbed two glasses and two beers from the fridge and then carry everything out to their little balcony. It wasn’t big, but they had two comfortable benches with soft pillows and a little table gathered there to sit and enjoy summer nights. Even a little barbecue had found its place in a corner. The whole balcony was surrounded by plants. It had started with Liam’s mom giving them one plant when they finally moved into their apartment, and then Liam had claimed one looked like shit. Over time they had gathered various things to make the banister a little friendlier. It looked like a little green oasis in the middle of a meek and otherwise empty backyard.

Theo set everything down on the table and then just ventured into the apartment and the bedroom to change into comfortable sweatpants. When he walked back to the balcony, he plopped down on one bench and sighed. He opened the pizza box and both beers and took a slice of the greasy food. It smelled delicious and was just as tasty as you would think after you smelled it. It made his mouth water and he eagerly took a bite from his slice. Liam wouldn’t mind, he knew Theo hated cold pizza. Chewing he leaned back and enjoyed the rays of the evening sun on his face. The perfect way to end the day.

Liam joined him some minutes later, hair still wet and disheveled from the towel, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie. He sat down on the other bench and leaned back with a groan, stretched out. Theo chuckled. “Long day?” “Uh uh. We had a very demanding customer and you know I love challenges but that guy was really a bit too much and constantly changed things.” He scrubbed his hands down his face and then made grabby hands at the pizza. Theo nudged the box closer to him and watched his boyfriend devour a slice fastly. “That should be unattractive. Strangely, it’s not.” Liam gave him a pearly grin. “You find everything I do attractive,” he stated simply and raised one of the beer bottles. “Cheers.” “Not everything but a lot. Cheers.” Theo raised the other bottle and clinked them together. They both took a gulp from their bottles almost perfectly in sync and grinned. Over the course of their relationship they had grown so close, got to know each other on a whole new level, and those quiet moments felt really nice. They didn’t need to talk, just sitting there an enjoying the sun, finishing the pizza up between the two of them, and sipping their beer was enough to make them both happy and relax them both. 

Theo liked the silence with Liam. He also liked the talks he had with him, don’t get him wrong. He liked Liam’s voice, could spend hours hearing him talk about the things that excited him, but he liked how easy this was as well. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words and he felt himself relax. Theo had always used words as a tool, something to use to get what he wanted in every regard, and he had strongly related to them at the beginning of their, well, everything. He had used his words against Liam, used them to rile him up and manipulate him, but then they had grown closer and words became not necessary anymore. They learned to rely on each other without words, learned to fight together without talking about a tactic before, learned how to be a team without saying much. Again, talking with Liam was great, but Theo had been afraid of the silence for years and Liam helped him overcome it, so now he could also enjoy the silence with his boyfriend.

Liam moved after a while and squeezed the empty pizza box until it got smaller. He got up and carried the trash into the kitchen to throw the box away. Theo smirked. They both weren’t the tidiest people on the earth but Theo hated empty pizza boxes lying around so Liam has picked up the habit of throwing them away as fast as possible. It was a nice gestured and another one of the many little things Liam did to show Theo how much he loved him. 

He walked back but instead of walking back to the bench he had sat before, he walked towards Theo’s bench. Theo moved so Liam could slip behind him and Theo could lean against his chest. Liam’s arms loosely wrapped around him and played with his fingers.  Theo tilted his head back and looked at Liam and the younger smiled but understood. He moved closer and gave Theo a gentle upside down kiss. Both chuckled in the end and then Theo curled up against Liam again and held his face into the sun.  “I love you,” Liam muttered and gently tugged at Theo’s hair with one hand. Theo moaned softly and let his head fell back against Liam’s shoulder.  “I love you too,” Theo replied softly. A huff next to him and Aka trotted into the sun and laid down there again. Koda chewed a bit more on his toy then he grabbed it and carried it outside as well to lay down next to Aka and continue playing. 

Liam kissed his temple, then he leaned back and watched the sun shining down on them and creating various forms on the wooden floor of the balcony and on the plants. “Our little paradise,” he said happily. Theo chuckled. “Our little paradise,” he agreed. It wasn’t a mansion, it wasn’t that much, but it was perfect for them and Theo was once again reminded life was pretty much perfect right now. 

Just something cute to enjoy the evening. I am really curious how you liked that little story. I just love the idea of mechanic Liam and tattoo artist Theo and the rest just happened. What do you say? Any comments/hopes/wishes/dreams? I'm thinking about making this a series and always adding random ficlets to it.

[mrtroy]

Oh, Confidence

I love reading biographies, and I especially like autobiographies.

I find it fascinating to hear people’s stories, learn how they got to wherever they got to in the realm of public presence, and love to find out what the key steps were to get there along the way.

One common theme in almost every biography I have ever read is the tipping point between when the subject gained the confidence to go from one level of success to another. That point where they, ‘get over the hump’ mentally.

In nearly every instance – no matter if the subject was a business tycoon like Steve Jobs or Phil Knight, inventors like the Wright Brothers, or nearly any one of many athletes I’ve read biographies on – confidence is its own form of currency. Some of the subjects, Jobs for example, were never lacking in confidence. This type of person came at their profession with a certain level of vigor and bravado as if they never questioned anything.

Others, like the Wright Brothers, needed to see success build from flight test to flight test before they had the confidence to conquer flying.

As it often does, athletics also provides a good microcosm for life as a whole when it comes to the topic of confidence. Many, many athletes on whom I’ve read biographies have documented their struggles with confidence. Some struggle to the point just before they get over the mental ‘hump,’ before finally gaining the confidence to excel at the highest levels of their sport.

Others still reach the pinnacle of achievement, only to have an erosion of confidence lead to a similar decay in their performance. One of the most shocking examples of this is the story of Andre Agassi, the famous tennis player. If you have any interest at all in the psyche of athletes, and the fragility of maintaining one’s edge, I would highly recommend reading Agassi’s book, ‘Open.’

If you’re unfamiliar with Agassi, his story is fascinating. He was a child prodigy in the late 80s and early 90s. At the age of 22, he won Wimbledon, became the number one ranked player in the world, eventually won all four grand slam titles, won an Olympic gold medal… On the tennis court, there’s pretty much nothing the dude didn’t win.

Even still, Agassi always struggled to maintain the level of confidence one might assume from a man of his stature. He chronicles a match in his book – I think it was at the French Open – where he’s playing a player he should easily have been able to beat. And yet, he stood across the court from his opponent very literally wondering if he would even be able to hit the ball back over the net if it was served right to him.  Things got so bad for Agassi during one stretch that despite being a top-10 ranked player for 16 out of an 18-year span, in 1997, he fell to number 110 in the world.

He had all sorts of things going on in his life – losing his hair, doing drugs, secretly dating Barbara Streisand… - but Agassi openly admits that he just ‘lost it.’ His confidence was gone. And he was reduced from an all-time great, to a guy who could barely return a tennis ball over a net.

How many times have you seen a pitcher in baseball who is striking out batter after batter, and then as soon as two or three opposing players get hits, all the sudden the mojo is gone. Or, a basketball player who has made ten three-pointers in a game and all the sudden she feels like she’s going to make every shot she takes.

Confidence is king in sports. As my dad always used to tell me – and lots of other dads too – if you think you can, or if you think you can’t, either way, you’re right.

Why is that? What causes that?

Confidence is based on having done something before and getting a certain result, yes. But it’s also about believing that you’re going to be able to do something again.

If you’ve done it before, you can do it again, right?

You’re confident, because you know how to do something. You know the level of effort necessary to get the job done. You know some of the mental hurdles you faced the last time you did it and they help prepare you for what you’re about to face in your current trial.

If you got an A on your last test, you’re more likely to believe you can get an A on your next test. If you failed your last test, it’s a lot harder to be confident you’ll get an A this time around. Even if you studied a lot harder than last time, that shadow of doubt is there because you didn’t get the A the last time.

--

If you’re still reading, you’ve read 800 words about confidence, and unless you didn’t know you were looking for a new tennis autobiography, there’s probably not a whole lot here that you’ve learned yet. So, where am I taking you?

I’ll tell you.

The irony in all of this about confidence is that it’s everything the world sells you, and it’s largely useless.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa…

Yes, you read that correctly.

Confidence, despite being the currency of top athletes, glorified in teaching curricula (yes!! I think I just used the plural of curriculum for the first time in my life!!) and parenting manuals alike; despite being sold by clothing designers, plastic surgeons, motivational speakers, and on and on and on and on…. has little to no lasting value.

Now, that doesn’t mean self-worth doesn’t have value, but it’s the sources of this value that we should think more about.

Consider this:

Basically every advertisement you’ve ever seen in your life can be boiled down to, ‘you’ll be more confident if you buy this!’ (I have written many of them…)

Need more confidence for a date? Buy a new pair of shoes. Need more confidence about your appearance? Buy this new workout apparatus. Need more confidence pulling into work? You don’t want a used Chevy. You need a BMW…

Don’t get me wrong, these tactics work. But they only work for a short time.

Those same new shoes – let’s say they are some dope new Converse you customized online – eventually they get dirty, and instead of wearing them to your friend’s party to make an impression on that cute little somethin’ somethin’ from down the block, you leave them in the closet and maybe they only come out when it’s time to let the dog out in the middle of the night…

New cars get dings. Workout equipment can have a surprising second life as an auxiliary closet for those clothes that never seem to get hung, but let me know ten years in if that treadmill still inspires the same level of confidence as the day you bought it….? I’m going with probably not…

Now, before you get on me for arguing against human nature, I’ll beat you to that point. I understand that part of the human condition is that we crave new things to pique our collective interest, and after a while, there’s nothing wrong with buying a new pair of pants. And there’s nothing wrong with those new pants fitting snugly around your back side to the point where you feel pretty good about yourself walking into a room…

But, time after time, what happens when we keep having to use confidence as currency to get us through everyday life?

Eventually, life bankrupts us, unfortunately.

You can only buy so many new things. You can only get into such good of shape. You can even get to a point where money, or fame, or recognition no longer are enough to get you past the mental hurdles in front of you.

What is the solution?

Well, to find it, let’s get to the root of why depending on confidence leaves us to come up short.

As I simplified earlier, confidence is based on a result you’ve seen before. If you’ve seen it, you can picture it again.

Okay great, but what happens if the circumstances change?

You ran five miles, but now you have to run ten. Five you know you can do, because you’ve done it before. Ten? Ten seems twice as hard as five, are you sure you’ve got that in you?

At mile six, a huge hurdle is crossed because in your head, you know you’re past the half way point, and you’re closer to the finish that you are the start. But what about in the middle of mile eight? You’re out in no man’s land. A big hill comes up on you, and all the sudden it gets really easy to stop running. You start playing the mental games, and they are toooough.

When things change, we’re less likely to have seen them before and when we haven’t seen things before, our confidence wanes. We try to draw back on similar experiences, but because they’re not exactly the same, it’s hard!

That leads me to faith.

If confidence is believing because of what you’ve seen, faith is believing in spite of what you haven’t seen.

Rooting your convictions in faith vs. confidence is a huge difference.

How much doubt do you have that the sun is going to rise tomorrow?

None. You have supreme faith, because you’ve never seen the sun NOT rise.

You can put a good deal of faith in the sun because it has never failed. It has never changed in its ability to rise.

Now, the day the sun doesn’t rise, every day after that, you will start to wonder. You’ll no longer have total faith, because your confidence will have been shaken. The sun could rise every day for five years, and MOST of your faith would be restored, but there would always be that linger doubt in your mind, about that one day in ’18 when the sun didn’t rise…

So, what’s the solution?

Simply put, don’t live on the currency of confidence. Confidence fades like the red out of a well-worn pair of Chucks.

Put your hope in faith. Put your faith in things that doesn’t change.

But, you say, even the sun will burn out eventually – that’s science. So how many things can you put total faith in??

I only know of One… And there’s a decent biography on Him, too…