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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

Another goth out here - Can I ask for hc's of all the Bill boys you write for with a goth girl, please?

Why, yes! I’d love to. After all... Everyone needs a cute goth GF, right? You know it’s true.

Axel Cluney

He steals her fishnets. They just look good on him. Axel likes to show some skin and he’s not a fan of real shirts. Only garments with holes in them, and she happens to have a lot of those. Axel will convince her to do a clothing swap with him until she gets fed up sacrificing her clothes and brings him to a goth market where he can buy his own stuff.

They compare tattoos. She has some meaningful and dark tattoos and Axel is covered in ink he let his friend put on him as “practice”...That friend is now in jail tattooing convicts, but Axel insists they’re not prison tats.

He shows her new music. Everything she loves, Axel loved when he was a kid, and makes it a point to remind her of his refined taste by bringing her mix CDs which she can’t play because who even owns a CD-player anymore? (He buys her one from the local pawn shop so they can listen to Smashing Pumpkins together.)

Axel contemplates dying his hair black. He loves hers, so why not his?

Roman Godfrey

She has a crush on him first, thinking he’s the closest thing to the local “goth” boy, then realizes he’s not goth at all. She might think he’s a poser. After much back and forth, she decides he’s just a fashion guy, but he already has his sights set on her. He wears all the black in his closet and then buys more to assimilate.

Roman’s idea of a first date is bringing her to a forest where he smokes cigarettes and talks about being an outcast. She makes fun of him only a little bit, then steals his scarf. He lets her keep it, saying it looks better on her anyway.

He asks her if she knows any witchcraft or spells; if she believes in spirits and all that. It surprises her to hear these questions and she answers, “why? You wanna put a hex on someone?”

Roman has found a match for his attitude. He thought he was the world’s biggest brat until he meets her. It’s a huge turn-on for him to have a girl that doesn’t put up with bullshit.

Henry Deaver

She scares him. Like a lot. But it’s hot...Right? He doesn’t know if she hates him or not, but he’ll find out once he summons the courage to talk to her.

He’s wildly afraid of coming off as unimpressive, but he doesn’t know what these kinds of girls like. So he buys up a bunch of old-school horror movies, some of them truly god-awful, and hopes she’ll want to watch one of them. Oh, and he has to keep the lights on, and no, he won’t explain why. He just likes to watch movies with the light on. Yes, there’s a glare on the screen, and no, it doesn’t bother him.

She figures out Henry is jumpy and will lurk in the shadows to pop out at him at any chance. He screams and clutches his chest the first couple of times, then spends the rest of their time together peering around corners and assessing where she is at all times.

He will not make the first move. She kisses him first, under a full moon, and Henry practically melts.

The Kid

He’s the only man that kind of freaks her out. He’s tall, dark, quiet, and not in the typecast way. This guy looks like a dead tree. He kind of sits there all stiff and wide-eyed like ghosts are talking to him. Until he cracks his first gentle smile, she’s not even sure he has a pulse.

The Kid knows all the best scary movies, and we’re not talking Friday the Thirteenth and A Nightmare on Elm Street. He has a stash of the freakiest underground film that makes even her feel uncomfortable watching, and she grew up on this shit.

She likes to wear dark lipstick, and he’s the only one who doesn’t make snide or “clever” comments. He likes the way she dresses and does herself up. It reminds him of a little porcelain doll. A cursed doll, but cute nonetheless.

To her surprise, he kisses her first. He’s not the most vocal guy, but he can read body language, and he knows it’s the right time. When he pulls away, the smile on her face turns his icy insides to liquid.

Henry Pearl

They meet at a midnight art showing in the middle of the town’s square. Her booth is set up with her spooky dolls and sinister paintings, sculptures and metaphysical crafts of bone and crystals. Henry gravitates toward her when he hears people whispering about her weird art.

She begs him to teach her some painting techniques, as she’s intrigued by his skill, and he obliges, but only later at night.

He makes her breakfast at night, explaining that nine PM is the perfect time for pancakes. She doesn’t mind since she’s a night owl by nature.

After they see each other for a few weeks, Henry paints a portrait of her and gets his first kiss as a result. It rocks his entire world. After the kiss, all he ever wants to paint is her face.

Mickey

He tries a little too hard to get her attention at first. She doesn’t know whether she finds him pathetic or if it’s kiiinda cute how he follows her around like a puppy.

They bond over music one day in Mickey’s car, which is NOT the car she first saw him driving. He lights up when metal plays, croons to power ballads, gets emotional over the break-up songs. She can see he’s a genuine dude who wears his emotions on his sleeve.

Mickey brings her flowers he stole from various gardens. He had a vision of buying her a bouquet of black roses, but they wanted 60 bucks at the store, so he improvises by prowling the garden district with a pair of shears.

Her black collars excite him. He asks if they mean anything or if they’re just fashion. She teases him and tells him if he wants to find out, he’ll have to prove himself. So he spends the rest of the week acting like the perfect boyfriend, though they’re not “official”, they are in his mind and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else.

Merkel

Maybe the only guy who might be more goth than her. He likes black, wearing make-up and knows all the best underground clubs where they play dark industrial and everyone dresses like her.

He asks if he can dress her one day. To her surprise, Merkel has trunks of clothes he’s taken from fashion shoots. He styles her and stages his own photoshoot with her as his muse. The pictures are strikingly editorial, and she has the best time.

Merkel talks about hanging out with all her idols. She listens with heart-eyes and a smile to rival a sunrise to the stories of Gordon’s travels through Europe.

Invites her over to his place one night for wine and black-and-white movies, but all she wants to do is check out his handcuff collection and put them to use. With a coy look, he escorts her to his studio apartment, asking, “do you have your own safeword, or should we decide on one now?”

Willard Russell

He doesn’t understand all the black, but he wants to because he thinks she looks beautiful. He’s never seen a girl like her before. Maybe she’s an angel, maybe she’s the opposite... All Willard knows is he wants to talk to her.

She understands his melancholy, and he doesn’t feel like he needs to put on a happy mask when she’s around. It’s a breath of fresh air to feel like he can be himself in front of someone who doesn’t try to change him.

Her intelligence baffles him, and she doesn’t speak like the folks he grew up with. She’s different in every way, and he falls in love with her quickly.

Willard makes her a tree swing in the forest where they like to go to be alone. She finds this incredibly sweet and kisses him on the cheek before taking a seat on the wooden plank. His skin heats from where her lips touched, and he spends the rest of the evening with her in a lovestruck daze.

#Bill Skarsgard hc #Bill Skarsgard imagine #Bill Skarsgard drabble #Bill Skarsgard fanfiction #Roman Godfrey #Axel Cluney #Henry Deaver #The Kid #Henry Pearl #Mickey Villains #gordon merkel #willard russell

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amethyst-wind-uk · 4 years

Text

Just finished Life Is Strange 2. Gotta say, I much prefer the first one. (Spoilers below the break)

It’s still a compelling narrative, for the most part, but there are just a bunch of different things that LiS 1 did that worked better. I’ll go through a few.

1) Arcadia Bay is not a real place - This may seem weird, but I think the subtle disconnect of having Arcadia Bay represent West Coast America rather than actually have the setting BE West Coast America worked better. It just made things ever-so-slightly more whimsical. Speaking of which...

2) There weren’t enough small happy moments in LiS2, compared to 1 - there were a few, sure, but generally the highs were both not that high and also few-and-far-between. The Diaz brothers had it very tough. There’s no denying that. They went through a lot of shit, and the opportunities they were presented with were never all that good. The entire story hammers home how bad the social injustice facing Latino/Latin-American people in the US, but damn it was hard to get excited over small victories when they never really brought them back to a healthy balance between good and bad. The bar never reached 0 after the initial drop into the minus column.

3) Rednecks. Just so many fucking rednecks. All the time. Even quote-unquote ‘good’ characters have redneck traits.

4) I honestly couldn’t give any sort of a fuck that Sean lost his virginity. It was not cheer-worthy in the slightest.

5) “Spic”. “Build the wall”. “Illegals”. - Ties back into point 1) about having fictional representation works better than ripping straight from headlines. We can’t fall into safe escapism when the game is just parroting real life’s failures back at us.

6) There was no metaphysical aspect to the superpowers this time around. It’s just telekinesis. Max’s time manipulation could and did literally mess with reality, changing peoples’ pasts-presents-futures. Daniel threw stuff at people. Or threw people at stuff. Unlike Maxine Caulfield (Time Master), no philosophical questions were raised for Daniel Diaz (this could be due to the empowered individual NOT being the player character this time around, but generally it felt much less engaging to ponder any ramifications of use or misuse of Daniel’s powers).

7) Sean gets physically beaten a LOT. Again, I get that they’re trying to show how things are tough for a guy forced to become a parental figure while simultaneously having zero support systems available, but the writers resorted to physically hurting Sean more often than was necessary to get their point across. It’s gotta be in the double-digits over the five episodes where Sean takes blows.

8) The ‘golden ending’ is not so golden - They’ve done this in every game in the series, but it really felt faded and unimpressive this time around. Daniel gets a good life, but Sean spends 15 years in prison, and breaks down crying about his trauma during a private moment with Daniel. He’s clearly pretty far from okay, and might never be again.

9) Yes, it’s good that the Diaz brothers have each other. That’s a nice message, writestaff ...still wouldn’t kill you to show that they don’t JUST have each other, and nothing else. Give them a better ‘happy’ ending.

10) A nine-year-old gets shot. Twice.

11) They get a dog. It’s dead less than an hour’s playtime later.

12) Almost every NPC who actively aids the Diaz brothers (who are Mexican) is white. There’s a latina FBI agent who potentially helps out Sean, depending on the ending. There’s only a few black guys with a speaking role. One’s a good guy nurse. The other points a shotgun at our protagonists (including the 9-year-old), and is running a drug farm with slave labour. There are other NPCs who aren’t white, but they don’t affect the plot as much

13) Like point 7) has physical violence, there are a fuck ton of guns involved in this game as the go-to for situational escalation. The variety is lacking.

14) Nobody wears seatbelts in cars. Ever.

15) It’s just not as interesting to play. I only actually PLAYED the first episode, then watched the other four on a Youtube playthrough. I really didn’t get hooked by the first episode, and left the game for two whole days after that before coming back. The fact that the game then asked me to play through Captain Spirit again, before playing Episode 2, really killed any last dregs of enthusiasm I had for completing the game myself.

#Life Is Strange #Life Is Strange 2 #Sean Diaz #Daniel Diaz

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adhdzagreus · 5 years

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Concilliabule virgil sanders :0

Virgil Sanders + A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot

“Okay, good, you’re both here,” Virgil said, eyeing Roman and Logan. They both nodded, Roman frowning in confusion at having been called to the meeting without explanation.

“We are,” Logan said. “Would now be an opportune time to ask why we have been called here?”

“In a minute. First, what’s Patton doing?” Virgil said.

“He is watching those videos of small animals on YouTube.”

“Okay, great,” said Virgil. “That should buy us at least an hour.”

“Why do we need any hour without Patton?” Roman said, pouting. “Is someone going to explain what’s going on?”

“Because it won’t be a surprise if Patton is here when we plan it,” Virgil said impatiently.

“But what are we planning?” Roman cried in frustration.

Virgil sighed. “If you’d been paying attention, you would know that tomorrow is Patton’s birthday.”

“By birthday, you of course mean the anniversary of the first time he appeared in a video, yes?” said Logan. “Because as metaphysical human beings, we have no date of birth as we were not born in the traditional sense through delivery or cesarean section.”

Virgil looked at him. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “It never hurts to be precise.”

“Oh, I get it!” said Roman. “You want to plan a surprise for Patton’s birthday! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I was getting to it!” Virgil huffed. “But yeah, I want to do something for Patton’s birthday to show him that we, you know, appreciate him and stuff…”

“Virgil!” Roman said, holding a hand to his chest. “That is actually a very good idea!”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised…”

“I concur with Roman. It is a good idea. This seems a good opportunity to show our appreciation for Patton,” Logan said.

“Really?” said Virgil, narrowing his eyes. “You agree with me?”

“Of course,” said Logan. “I am not above a little frivolity for the sake of teambuilding.”

“That’s uh, a weird way of putting it, but yeah, sure.”

Roman’s eyes were lit with excitement. “What did you have in mind, Virgil?”

Virgil’s eyes widened at being directly addressed, and he shrunk into his hoodie. “I dunno… You know I’m no good at this happy, fun, touchy-feely stuff. That’s why I asked you here.”

“Well, fun times are my speciality,” said Roman. “You came to the right place.”

“Then why have you called me here?” said Logan. “You know I’m no more inclined to the, as you put it, ‘touchy-feely stuff’ than you are.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re part of Patton’s uh, f-family too so…” Virgil looked away. Family was Patton’s word to describe the relationship the four of them had. He didn’t know if that’s how he would’ve put it, but it was a nice thought. Patton was full of nice thoughts, unlike Virgil whose thoughts ran more on the dark and gloomy side. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Virgil couldn’t help but love Patton, and while Virgil was terrible at showing such things, he felt it was important that they did something to show Patton how much they appreciated him.

But all of this was too complicated to explain so he just said. “I thought you would want to be included.”

Logan nodded. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Yeah… No problem. Anyway.” Virgil cleared his throat. “Roman, do you have any ideas for what we can do to celebrate?”

“Oh, do I!” said Roman. “What about we throw a grand ball in his honor and invite lords, ladies, and nonbinary nobles from all across the land?” He gave an expansive sweep of his hand.

“That sounds extremely impractical to plan at the last minute. Also impossible,” said Logan.

“Don’t you think Patton would want something more, I dunno, relaxed?” Virgil said.

“Alright, Patton probably would prefer a more intimate get-together,” Roman conceded. “What about a family movie night? He can pick the movie, and I’ll summon some puppies for him to play with.”

Logan nodded. “This scenario includes all of Patton’s favorite things. I approve.”

Virgil frowned thoughtfully. “It’s missing something. Something to show we really care.”

“Well, traditionally, gifts are given on birthdays to show affection to the person being celebrated,” Logan said.

“Perfect,” Virgil said, pointing at Logan. “We should all give Patton something tomorrow.”

“Very well,” said Roman. “I suppose I can whip something up in time.”

“Okay, good,” said Virgil. “Then it’s settled.”

The others nodded and parted ways. Virgil went to his room to start planning his gift.

xxx

“Oh, you guys!” Patton gushed. “You didn’t have to do all this for me!”

“This is true,” said Logan. “We did not have to do this.”

“And yet we did it anyway!” Roman declared. “As a token of our affection for you!”

“What they’re trying to say,” Virgil said, “is that, yeah, we didn’t have to do this, but we wanted to, to show we care about you.”

Patton beamed, holding a hand to his chest. “You guys are so sweet. Thanks so much for this!”

“Well, there is one more thing,” Logan said, summoning a package from his room and handing it to Patton.

“You got me something?” Patton gasped in delight.

“We all did,” Virgil said, clearing his throat. “Uh, here’s mine.” He handed Patton a thin square package wrapped in silver paper.

“And mine,” Roman said gallantly, holding out his own parcel wrapped in gold and blue.

“Oh, where do I start?” Patton fluttered, shining like the sun with delight. Then before any of them could answer, he said, “I’ll start with Logan’s since he gave it to me first.”

Patton tore open Logan’s gift enthusiastically. It turned out to contain, unsurprisingly, a book, but Patton gasped in delight anyway. “Oh, it’s about cats! I love it, Logan!”

Logan nodded with satisfaction. “As you show such enthusiasm for cats, I thought it might interest you to learn something of their history. Did you know that cats were domesticated as early as 7500 BC according to some archaeologists?”

“Wow! Really?” said Patton, wide-eyed at the prospect of ancient cats.

“Yes, yes, that’s fascinating. Open mine next!” said Roman excitedly.

“Okay!” said Patton. He tore into Roman’s beautifully wrapped package and pulled something free. “Oh, Roman, I love this movie!”

“I thought so! It’s all, you know, feelings and stuff. And you did cry like a very small child the first time Thomas saw it,” Roman said. “Also it’s bluray!”

Virgil squinted at the movie, trying to make out the title: Inside Out. He winced. Yeah, exiting the theatre after watching that film had been rough.

“Okay, I’m opening Virgil’s now,” Patton said, smiling.

Virgil startled. “Uh, you know what, it’s not very good. It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he stammered.

Patton looked at him. “Shush your face. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Virgil worried his lip and nodded as Patton ripped the silver wrapping paper off of the gift he had gotten him. Patton gasped when he saw it, but that didn’t mean much. Patton was delighted by everything.

Virgil watched Patton’s face closely as the side examined the gift, a large black photo collage frame. Virgil had spent most of last night looking for photos and deliberating over which ones to put in and where, and he was as happy with it as he was going to get.

In the upper left was a photo of Logan, caught in a rare moment of contentment, sitting on the couch in the living room with a mystery novel. Below that was a picture of Roman, grinning directly at the camera, his arms raised in triumph at some unknown victory. In the lower right was a picture of Thomas, smiling happily with his tongue slightly sticking out. Above that was the photo Virgil had struggled with the most. He didn’t allow himself to be photographed often, and he always looked terrible in photos anyway. Finally, he’d settled on the only photo of himself he liked. It was a selfie he’d taken with Patton in an attempt to show him how to use social media. He had his arm around Patton, who was beaming, and the camera had gone off just as Virgil had started to laugh at something Patton had said, catching him in the beginning of a smile as he looked at Patton.

In the center of the frame was the largest of the five photographs. It showed the four of them together with Patton in the middle looking ecstatic about something.

Patton took in all of this in a few quick glances, his expression changing from excitement to warmth as he did so. “Oh, kiddo!” he beamed, putting his hand over his mouth and looking at Virgil. “I love it! C’mere!”

Virgil blinked at him and slowly went over to where Patton was seated on the couch. He felt even more surprised when the other side crushed him in a hug, and when he realized what this must mean, he felt relieved. “Oh, you like it,” he mumbled. “Good.”

“It’s perfect,” Patton said, releasing him, still beaming. “After all, we all know that the best gift of all is time spent with family, and this is a beautiful reminder of all the good times we’ve had.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I guess,” Virgil said. “Pretty sappy, but I guess that’s true.”

“Well,” said Logan. “If that’s everything, I declare these festivities to have been a success, and I bid you all good night.”

“Later, Logan.”

He disappeared, and Roman soon followed him, leaving Virgil and Patton who smiled.

“I didn’t expect you guys to do anything,” he said. “Whose idea was it?”

“Well, uh, we all kind of...contributed to it, but I was the one who called everyone together for it…” Virgil said.

“Aw, so this was your idea?” Patton said.

“I mean, I guess…”

Patton stood up, clutching his gifts to his chest. “That was very sweet of you,” he said, all pure affection and gentle smiles. “Thanks, Virgil.”

“Uh, no problem.”

Then Patton bid him good night and left, leaving Virgil feeling soft and warm and gooey, like the inside of a s’more.

#i made an attempt #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #lamp #moxiety #panic at the everywhere #virgil sanders #prompt fill #luxmyth

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abundantchewtoys · 4 years

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Homestuck Candy p17-23 (holy shit)

So, yeah, this baby coming up.

I wonder if there's going to be callbacks to Dirk's art for Caliborn in any form. ("jake no, what are you doing - to our baby?")

John can't erase this baby in any case, since no retcon powers.

I wonder if we're going to learn its name. I kind of like one of Blaperile's theories, that he would name a boy after his Dad... It would reveal one of those long hidden mysteries in Homestuck.

Otherwise... Liv? :P

Theresa, after Terezi?

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Page 17

Oh wow.

OH WOW.

Yeah, now we're getting to the juicy bits.

The candy is turning into diabetes around John. Details about the past are getting vague for his friends, the harmony trumping the validity of their experiences. It's all turning out a lot more existential for John in this path than I thought!

"Harry Anderson Egbert", heheh. But yeah, John has a good point. He wants his wife to have some identity, but it's like she's ... malleable, or something. Everything shapes around each other and forms the least offensive shape.

On the one hand, I want to imagine Vriska Lalonde-Maryam and Harry as childhood friends, growing up together.

On the other hand, I wonder what there is in store for this John. He's lost his retcon powers. But he says Terezi is the only thing that still makes sense to him. So maybe, if he rejects this reality, he can escape it again?

It all is going to depend a lot on what Terezi has to offer. (Going by the assumption it really is Terezi, by the way, not an imposter.)

It would really be something if this John, a twenty-four year old now, crosses back into the Meat timeline. He'd be leaving a lot behind, and frankly, be a shitty husband and father by going through with it. But yeah, Meat John is dead, has been for some time.

Jegus, John keeps filling his own dead self's shoes. Alternate John who dated Vriska. (Okay, in fact, in that situation, it was more of an inversion as the other John continued his developing relationship. On the other hand, for Davesprite, alpha John must've felt like the replacement John in the beginning.) Post-Retcon John who was killed by Typheus. Even Poppop Crocker, when he met up with B2 Dad.

The Candy path is definitely shaping up to be quite suspenseful, all expectations be damned!

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Page 18

Wow.

Jake's so much more mature here. I want to see more of this man.

So yeah, it had occurred to me that part of the reason Gamzee hooked up with Jake and Jane could be because he was somewhat thinking of a) the other Page he was attracted to, and b) the Hope and Life players in his session, who were close to him on the hemospectrum?

But... I hadn't imagined Gamzee being Jane's kismesis. But it works so well. Got to say, it brings back memories of him on her land during the session.

So Jake and Jane had a baby! The first cross-species naming, then. After Tavros.

It's remarkable, isn't it? Dad, GCATavrosprite, Jasprosesprite^2, Nannasprite, Nannasprite*2... They fell on the wayside, we have no idea what happened to them. The sprites could've dissolved, we didn't seem them in the official credits after all, only the extra possibly outside-of-canon snaps, explaining why Jake would name his firstborn after Tavros. But Dad?

As for Jade and Davekat. Wow. Well, I guess, I really want to know now whether this revelation is also canon.

Cause Jade is either intersex or trans now, after fusing with Beq. (Also, it might be a dog penis, but capable of transferring human DNA? *Shudder.*) I can understand this would make her uneasy in exploring sexual options with Dave.

Wow. Yes, it seems that things are, in a very different but equal sense than in the Meat path, very raw and heartwrenching in this timeline as well.

At the start of the page, I started thinking for a minute that Gamzee would also find something off about the timeline. It would have been something for him to join John in pursuit of relevance, truth and all that. But no, it was just to bait Jane, it seems. If anyone, it would be Jake who might go through something similar as John.

Guess we'll have to wait and see.

Still said to see Jake getting the small end of the relationship stick, once again. Boy has no luck in love.

It was interesting to get Jane's honest take on politics on Earth C. If she and the others had just been honest with each other, they might have been able to struck an accord. Alas, through Dirk's meddling, it was not to be.

Also, it was funny to have Gamzee refer to the 5000-year skip in sweeps. Yeah, that... That doesn't convert well.

---

Page 19

Wow that took a turn!!

I thought it might have been time for them to discuss their relationship. How Jade has turned into the third wheel stopping the Davekat bicycle from taking off.

(Those references to Jane and Jake, I could've gone about.)

But then.

Something hit.

I thought instantly it would've been the other Jade. A moment or two I thought an ecto baby or First Guardian infant, for these three to take care off in lieu of a biological child. But no.

It's really REALLY the Postscriptum Jade!! (Well, I hope it's her, and that the Postscriptum doesn't take place on Future Candy Earth C.)

She "escaped" the black hole, into relevance, the PS said. So... It seems... As if...

Dirk was very much wrong.

Candy Earth C is going to play an important part in what's to come, yet.

Unless this Jade has only come to lift some of the people here away, like the mentioned Blue Fairy.

But in any case... It seems Davebot and Aradia can't be far behind.

This idyllic fantasy, who's already shown cracks, is about to be shattered.

What hit Jade, though, it almost seemed like those shards from the Furthest Ring, though it was called massless, here.

---

Page 20

Wow.

So, this Jade is suffering from a metaphysical poison. Just like John was from Lord English's tooth. Only... This Jade went into the black hole, and last we saw she was okay.

Is it because she's back in the "real" world that it's affecting her now?

For a minute there I thought Jane and Kanaya and Karkat could actually *explain* their grievances to each other. But no, alas. Karkat, validly I must say, just exploded with everything he's pent up.

Gotta say, if the trolls are getting antsy in this timeline, just imagine how it was going to pan out in the Meat timeline! I'm reminded of the troll rebellion that was referenced in the non-canon snaps.

Also, of course. OF COURSE, these Vriska and Tavros would clash on their first meet. Everyone should've seen this coming.

If anything salvages this scene, it must be Jake being able to placate the two toddlers. It's that sort of attention that Joey and Jude deserved to get from their Pa.

It's interesting to note how Rose is no longer sure about their situation. Maybe that's the influence of this corpse and its heavily-dripped-in-canon origin.

Roxy keeps being almost a vanilla version of herself, although the intent to hold a corpse party is horribly in character for her. Still, she feels less *real* than the other characters, who all seem to be kind of recovering from their diabetes-filled state.

John and Roxy, and Dave, Karkat and Jade are in dire need of some therapy, in any case. It was nice to see Karkat telling Gamzee off though. And weird to see Jane and Roxy keep jumping to his side. Like, they have no idea of the history here, and seem to think anyone can redeem themselves if they try hard enough. It kind of shows how they're not really all that streetwise.

Oh, forgot to mention - John has a moustache now. A manly one. Dear god, he's gone full Sassacre :P

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Page 21

WHAT THE SHIT.

WHAT THE SHIIIIT.

WHAT THE SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

Roxy was right. The chances of all of them coming together like that, with all the stuff going on between them, are so infinitesimal.

But then she got into labor, and I thought that was that.

But

So, Aradia and Sollux turn up, and when I heard Jade had the shard still in her torso....

It would seem that this Jade isn't Postscriptum Jade... Yet.

Aradia and Sollux found a way out of the Furthest Ring on their own??? And somehow ended up on Earth C without explanation. Just when last page I almost thought as if all missing trolls mentioned in the epilogues' ToC were going to end up appearing as babies to the characters.

Karkat and Jane are in dire need of an actual debate.

Rose's lack of a good consolation was hilariously described.

But of course, the meat (Meat) of this page.

Is that Alt Calliope found a way through the Black Hole into the Candy path, and sent Reload Jade's corpse through it.

And just like in the Candy path, alpha Calliope is scared off. But it bears mentioning that Calliope herself was acting kind of weird, and was weirdly absent for a lot of the pages. It almost seemed to set her up as the narrator of this path, trying to give everyone what she thought they wanted. The fact that she and Roxy "broke character" for a moment was one of the things pointing in this direction.

But now Alt Calliope is here.

The narration is about to force everyone to confront who they really are. For better or worse.

I wouldn't be surprised if this ends with Candy Earth C as the battlefield seen in the Postscriptum. But what does that imply for Meat Earth C, where Alt Calliope ALSO put her influence to work.

She may claim not to influence, but even when she retreated into the narration, the atmosphere wasn't just magically improved over there.

Aradia and Sollux talking with Gamzee was... weird, but funny. I wonder if they are supposed to have aged some sweeps in the meantime. We know Gamzee must be about 8.5 sweeps now, while Karkat and the other trolls are about 11 sweeps.

I guess it's time we learn what Alt Calliope understands under "protecting" a world. I don't think Meat Dirk is coming over there, though I'm unsure what his grand design really is.

---

Page 22

Oh my god.

what is happening.

So Alt Calliope's influence didn't really do anything at that point but upset the group.

And now a 3 year time skip took place. So... wow. They're all 27 now.

And the troll ghosts that were sucked into the black hole are appearing everywhere now. The government is going bananas, but in fact, it must all be repetitions of the same 24 trolls, how weird is that.

I'm sure that in due time, some human ghosts will be appearing too. But this is just getting ridiculous.

Karkat went underground and into the resistance. Jane, as the shadow president, is secretly maneuvering things to invade the troll kingdom. This was supposed to be the Candy path, I thought it was going to be all shits 'n giggles!!!!

I do like that John, finally, after years, is starting to realize Terezi doesn't share anything about her at all. He asked for a picture, which I guess is nice. But, just like in the Meat path, he's torn up about the girl that he didn't stay with.

This has "disaster waiting to happen" written all over it.

Calliope seems to hunker after Roxy, but she still doesn't act on those feelings. It's like a twisted inversion of the Meat path.

It's like, all the sugar we started with has been turned into energy, and the rush has dissipated, and now there's only a tummy ache.

---

Page 23

Wow.

What the shit.

I could only root for John and Tavros' relationship. Seems like the little man is very sharp for his age. Since Harry is into atomic clocks as well, it seems that the tradition of children being into adult subjects like philosophy and psychology and science, continues.

But alas, it was not meant to be.

John finally couldn't take it no more, he had to scream what he'd internalized for so long. But it turned into something really messy, towards Jane and Jade. All valid points, but by losing control he most importantly scared Tavros and Harry Anderson.

The reaction of the other people was so... empty, though. Non-confrontational to a fault.

And I agree with John, Gamzee has apparently set himself up as Jane's subjugglator.

For all that Alt Calliope was saying, she sure seems to have NOT used any influence, though. And things very much have gone to shit here.

It was very cool to get to know Tavros and Harry Anderson as people, though. Tavros is indeed a kind of brother, biologically, to John (and Jade, and a half brother to June and Joey) in appearance. But it's like, personality-wise, he's more like a sad but smart version of Tavros. While his speech is colored in Gamzee's purple, ugh.

And Harry Anderson... A prankster in the making, for sure.

So, what is Terezi going to talk to him about? Is she talking to him from the end of the Meat path, just before she left Earth C? Or is she talking to him just after the other John died. :(

I can say this: I didn't think for a millisecond I would get THIS attached to people from the Candy path.

#homestuck #homestuck candy #reaction #homestuck epilogues #john egbert #alt calliope #jane crocker #tavros crocker #harry anderson egbert #roxy lalonde #dave strider #karkat vantas #jade harley #jake english #vriska lalonde

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edenfalling · 5 years

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[Fic] “Frog Hunt” -- Homestuck

Summary: SBURB is not turning out anything like you'd hoped, and your game session may be broken. Which is a problem, because you can't go back to Earth -- last you checked, it's busy being an apocalyptic wasteland -- and judging by your most recent dreams, the rest of the Medium beyond your little Incipisphere is an equally apocalyptic wasteland of ghosts and horrorterrors. The only way out is through. You have to win the game.

Winning SBURB requires frogs.

Note: I started this fic way back in 2012, hit Jade's horrorterror dreams, and had no idea where to go from there. Last week it occurred to me that actually the horrorterror dreams made a perfectly reasonable ending, provided I filled in a missing middle scene, established an emotional/thematic through-line, and tweaked stuff until the new parts played nice with the old ones. So I did. :) [2,325 words]

--------------------------------------------- Frog Hunt ---------------------------------------------

SBURB is not turning out anything like you'd hoped. You wanted to see your friends in person, go on cool adventures, and save the world. You guess technically the cool adventure part is happening? But it turns out that being in the middle of an adventure is mostly very upsetting and dangerous.

Also your game session may be broken. Which is a problem, because you can't go back to Earth -- last you checked, it's busy being an apocalyptic wasteland -- and judging by your most recent dreams, the rest of the Medium beyond your little Incipisphere is an equally apocalyptic wasteland of ghosts and horrorterrors. The only way out is through. You have to win the game.

Winning SBURB requires frogs.

You have a lot of pointed questions to ask whoever designed the symbolism behind this process.

You also have no idea what you're doing. Zoology is not your thing! Botany and rocket science are your things!

But you've done crazier things in the name of friendship than breed magic universe-creating frogs. And this time you'll have Dave by your side, even if all he can help you can do is win the Olympic gold medal for synchronized flipping out, which might as well be a thing now since Earth is gone and if anyone ever reestablishes the Olympics it will be you and you can stick in any sports you feel like.

That analogy may have gotten away from you a little. You decide to preemptively consider it Dave's fault, and send him another message asking for an ETA.

"Kanaya says we won't have enough time to collect all the frogs, let alone raise them and do the breeding and mutation stuff. Not even if we yank Rose and John into the project, and especially not with just you and me," you tell him when he shows up in person, popping out of nowhere with two discs floating at his side. They look a little like Grandpa's old vinyl records, but with red gears turning underneath them. "Not that you aren't helpful! But there's only so many seconds until disaster."

Dave arches the backs of his hands, fingertips still ghosting over the ridges of his floating record thingies. "Harley, c'mon, work with me here. What's my aspect?"

You blink. Oh. Time travel, durr. Okay, possibly your flipping out was a little premature. "Whoops, forgot that! Potentially infinite seconds, yay recycling. So how are we doing this?"

Dave shrugs, letting the records vanish back into his sylladex. "We have limited absolute time, basically from when I got your house up to reasonable height to, let's say, an hour before whatever runs us off the rails goes critical. So we have to maximize our use of space -- duplicate this ectobiowhatthefuck setup and run an assload of slime zapper tadpole tanks at once. I'm thinking one on each of the top ten floors of your house. We'll do one floor on each master loop so we don't keep running into each other. Mark the space and time coordinates for each croaker we target, then head out to poke them or whatever literally the second after we zap them, take notes on any other frogs that look useful, and move down a floor and back in time to start again."

"What about breeding?" you ask.

You think Dave frowns. It's hard to read his expression behind his shades, but he doesn't guard his posture as much as his face. "Whoops, forgot that. Uh, let's say every third floor and third loop is for breeding and mutation games. Shouldn't be too hard, especially if we whip up a regular appearifier. They don't have these bullshit temporal lock restrictions."

"Sounds like a plan," you say. "Let's get everything set up and start breeding!"

Dave's discombobulated expression is so faint and brief that if you'd blinked, you would have missed it. Hmmm, you think to yourself. Maybe...? But no, you probably just reminded him of something one of the trolls said. They can be so bizarre sometimes.

"Time to rock and roll," Dave says, and you shake off your daydream and get to work.

---------------

It turns out that ectobiology is actually very simple! You don't need to know genetics or metaphysical zoology, which you were a little worried about. You just need to zap frogs and run their ghost slime through the game-provided machines until you hit a gene combination that pings a little automated reward mechanism. Scanning for useful frogs is a little trickier, since you get the reward ping for any potentially useful gene sequence even if it's one you already have on file -- you have to weed out the duplicates manually, which is time-consuming and a total pain.

Creating hundreds of potential paradoxes to make sure the appearifier grabs slime instead of actual frogs is also time-consuming and a total pain.

It would be simplest to just shoot the frogs, but first of all, that's mean, and second of all, it would probably screw up LOFAF's ecology to storm around wiping out its native fauna less than an hour after thawing them out in the first place. If you had a dart gun you could trust not to mangle the frogs on impact, maybe you could stun them for a few minutes. Unfortunately, all of Grandpa's guns (and by extension, all of your guns) are designed to shoot projectiles straight through solid objects and totally fuck up their day. Which means that instead of perching in a tree like a cool and sexy sniper, you are galumphing around on the ground, hot and sticky and covered in a gross combination of mud and panicked frog secretions. Ugh.

"I look like a swamp zombie, don't I?" you say before you can think better of the words.

"Yeah, but in a cute monster-girl way," Dave says. "I'm just a scarecrow that got left out in the rain and turned into a mold sculpture."

You look over at him just as a clump of mud and moss slides down the left lens of his shades. "Um. No comment." You are determinedly not noticing that he said you're cute. Nope. Completely thought-free zone over here, nothing but genetics and logistics, which everyone knows require no brain power at all.

Dave shakes his head in faux solemnity. "Tragic. Faced with the death and destruction of my awesome good looks and you can't even dredge up a "That's sad"? I am betrayed. I am devastated. I am--"

"--still cute underneath the glop, stop fishing for compliments," you interrupt, and are furiously grateful for the mud hiding your blush. Stupid Dave and his stupid... everything. Why do you even like him? He's such a butt.

Of course, all your friends are kind of jerks. Possibly there's something miscalibrated about your friend-finding radar. Or possibly you're also a jerk? Hmm. That's something to ask Rose about, whenever you finally get to see in her person.

You will get to see her in person. You refuse to acknowledge any other possibility.

"Ouch," Dave says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up just a degree. "Damned by faint praise. I guess I'd better step up my frog-napping skills, can't let my dashing good looks outweigh my knightly swag. Speaking of which, have we been standing still long enough for that little orange fucker to stick his head out?"

You glance around, then down, then up. There's a tiny flash of color just over-- you shift slightly-- yep, right there on the tree by Dave's shoulder. "Um. Yeah. Just... keep standing still. Really still."

"Making like a tree, yes ma'am Sergeant Harley ma'am," Dave says as you inch slowly toward him through the muck between the tree roots. "It's right behind me, isn't it? Getting all ready for a jump scare, gonna leap out and poison me to death with its slimy frog toes, alas, Horatio, here dies a fellow of infinite memes, taken from us too--"

You lunge.

You catch the frog.

You also knock yourself and Dave flat into the muck. His shades knock into your forehead. Your own glasses skew against his nose. Your left knee is jammed between his shins and his belt buckle is digging into your stomach.

Your mouth is right up against his chin. If you moved just an inch or two...

"Ooh, Miz Harley," Dave says, somewhat breathless.

"Oh, shut up," you say, and shove the frog into your sylladex as you scramble back to your feet. "Look who's talking, Mister Swamp Thing."

Then you bend down to yank Dave up, too, because fair is fair.

---------------

By the fourth loop you're ready to drop from exhaustion and the weird, indefinable tension of actually being around one of your friends in person instead of getting to mediate your interactions through computers. "I don't care how tight the schedule is. I'm starting to see double and I'm taking a goddamn nap," you tell Dave as you drop to the floor and lean back against the wall. You lay your rifle across your lap and keep your hands carefully away from the trigger. You know your temper sharpens when you're tired, and Grandpa taught you never to take chances with guns.

Dave frowns, and you know he's tired too because this time you can see his mouth curve downward to match the annoyed set of his shoulders and the fuck-you shove of his hands into his pockets. "The more loops we run, the harder it is to keep shit from falling apart," he says. "You that eager to trip into a doomed timeline? I can go back and hit reset anytime, easy as cake and pie and banana splits, but every screwup costs one dead Dave and one Jade abandoned in a dead-end universe. I don't even know if that you would get erased or keep on living until you go shithive maggots."

He's been talking to the trolls too, you remember, especially the teal one who uses l33tsp34k. He says her name is Terezi. She's been running time loops with him too. He likes her a lot.

You are not jealous. That would be stupid. You are not stupid; therefore you are not jealous. QED.

"The more tired we are, the harder it is to keep from screwing up," you say. "We're creating a whole new universe and we'll have to live there after we win the game. It's kind of important, Dave!"

Dave presses his back against the wall and slides down to join you on the hard tile floor. "We're not gonna win the game, you know. There is literally no way to do that. The game was borked from before the word go was a twinkle in its druggie teen mom's eye."

"Maybe this session's broken," you agree. "But that doesn't mean we can't find a way to cheat, and even if we lose, I'd rather lose trying my hardest instead of half-assing shit because I was so tired I fell asleep while operating complicated machines."

Dave sighs. "Yeah, okay. Naptime. But not here. This is a work floor; we've gotta keep it clear for work loops. We'll go crash further down." He taps your shoe with his own. "Up and at 'em, Harley, let's go hit that transportalizer."

You groan and haul yourself to your feet.

The obvious place for a nap would be your bedroom, but then where would you sleep on the next loop? Anyway, you only have one bed and it'd feel... presumptuous? pushy? maybe just go with awkward. Yeah. It would be awkward to share it with Dave, especially without John and Rose there as well to clarify that it's strictly a friend thing.

So you alchemize an armful of blankets and pillows and make a little nest in one of the hundreds of blank, identical stories Dave copied from the real-world part of your house. It's still a little weird sharing the space -- Dave is so close you can feel him breathe, every exhale stirring stray wisps of hair over your ears -- but you think you could get used to this.

You think maybe you want to get used to this.

"Sweet dreams, Jade," Dave mutters as he flops over onto his side, one hand curled loosely around the hilt of his sword.

"You too," you tell him, before you remember he's just going to wake up on Derse as his dreamself, still stuck in this stupid, lying, Möbius tangle of a game. And you're going back to those weird bubbles in the monster-filled void. Neither of you can get free until you finish Frankensteining your magic frog and beat an unwinnable game.

"Heroes always beat million to one odds in stories," you say to nobody in particular. "Why not us?"

Dave mumbles something unintelligible in response, already mostly asleep.

You wiggle sideways until your shoulder brushes up against his, so the warmth of his body radiates through the thin blanket onto you and your warmth feeds back into him. He's alive. You're both alive. Somewhere else in the Incipisphere, John and Rose are (you hope) also still alive.

You would do anything to make sure your friends make it out of SBURB, to a new world safe from meteors and monsters and predestination. Anything.

You dream of bloody, mangled ghosts, groping desperately toward you for salvation while you stand frozen under the horrorterrors' incomprehensible regard.

In the dream, you imagine yourself reaching for Dave's hand. You imagine him weaving his fingers between yours. You imagine Rose and John standing beside you. You imagine all four of you stepping through a door into a new universe.

If you imagine something with all your heart, that makes it a tiny bit less fake, and being less fake means it's at least a little bit real.

The pressure of the horrorterrors' attention attenuates, just that vital fraction.

You turn away from the ghosts and think of frogs.

---------------------------------------------

End of Fic

---------------------------------------------

If anyone has constructive commentary, I am all ears! Also I am going to bed soon, because being awake is overrated and also I took a Benadryl in order to eat a BLT for dinner, so, you know, probably better to lie down than to slowly drift off in front of my computer. *wry*

#liz writes stuff #homestuck #jade harley #dave strider #generalized content warning #to about the same level as canon anyway #does homestuck count as its own warning by now?

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pjdredful · 6 years

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The AV Club

Chapter 4

I know something isn't quite right the second we pull in to the oil stained lot. It's quieter than usual, like ghost town quiet. Even the neon open light seems dimmer. And just as I think it the letters give a few weak flickers and go out. Well that's not ominous or anything. Mo parks the car at the end of the row under the only working light. It too flickers and goes out. "Alright that shit is getting creepy." We all nod our agreement with Orson and sigh collectively. "What if he's not here?"

"He's here." This is probably the only bar in town that will let him in the door. The roaring of a motorcycle breaks our tension filled silence and I watch as one of the regular patrons pulls in to the lot, parks and heads for the interior. With a start I realize I can see everything about him perfectly fine despite the dark lenses of the sunglasses. Hm. Bonus. "Well at least we know it's open. Let's go." No one moves and I glance around. "What?"

"You won't get past the door, Evie." It's not the eyes. Well not entirely the eyes. I do have a wee bit of a history with police here. I slump back into the seat with a sigh. "Orson and Mo can go in. I'll go around back and make sure he doesn't try to weasel out. Something tells me he's not going to be too cooperative." Nat is right. Warrow won't help for nothing and even then it's not exactly willingly. "Which begs the question, what do we do once we're face to face with him?"

Well we can't talk to him here that's for sure. "I'd like to keep this a little more private than an open parking lot. Maybe we should take him to the clubhouse." I hate the idea of taking him there. It's our place and there's no telling what his sticky fingers will relieve of us. It's not like he doesn't know the value of some of our gear. He's sold us a good portion of it. Nat rubs his chin with his shoulder and sighs.

"I don't like it but I don't see anywhere better. We all good with that?" We don't exactly have committee votes but everyone has a say when it comes to the clubhouse. We're all equally invested in the stuff we've got there. Something that makes me wish we had better security. Perhaps like locking doors. Or you know. Glass in the windows. "Okay then, you and Lirae sit tight." The doors slam shut around us as the boys get out. It rocks the car a little and I'm suddenly aware that we're alone in the dark. Again.

"So what'd your mom's journal say?" Well that's not any less awkward but it certainly breaks the quiet between us. I raise a shoulder in a shrug and sigh softly.

"I didn't get a chance to read much. It's a little heartbreaking." She reaches out and squeezes my hand and I give her a half smile of thanks. "Honestly I just want to hide in my closet and read it cover to cover but I don't think we've got enough time for that right now." The pressure in my head gives a nasty throb reminding me that it's still there making me miserable. "You know that feeling I get when something is out there?" She nods slowly. "It's like I can feel everything out there now. Not just flashes, but this overwhelming weight of darkness. And I'm scared."

Lirae scoots closer and reaches up to turn my face to hers. Her fingers graze lightly over my jaw and I meet her eyes through the lenses of the sunglasses. "Hey, you're not alone. We got your back. Even Orson." She smirks at that and I roll my eyes. But it does make me smile a little and I nod feeling slightly better. Sitting hand in hand doesn't hurt my mood either. She flirts with me a lot. She always has and I've never taken it seriously because Lirae flirts with EVERYONE. It's just how she is and why I never really take her playful seatbelt groping with more than a grain of salt. But right now, and just before I became a giant metaphysical flashlight, I feel like there's something deeper between us than the teasing gestures everyone else sees.

"You know its dangerous being my friend, right?" It hasn't all been a bucket of cuddly laughs. There have been extremely weird happenings in our town. Ghosts, poltergeists, golems, possessions, imps, oh and even a demon goat. I blame Orson for that one. Needless to say it's at the very least scary being around me and getting caught up in what's attracted to me but my friends are here and none of them seem to mind. Weirdos.

"Can't speak for anyone else but it's never boring being around you." That goes without saying. She shrugs a bit leaving it at that for a second. "Do you remember when we first met?"

I've known Nat and Mo most of my life. I've even known Orson since the sixth grade. He was just as much of an obnoxious butthead then as he is now. But I only met Lirae at the start of freshman year. I give her a mild look. "Before or after you stole my lunch money?"

"You're never going to let that go are you?" Well. No. She stole my lunch money. "Fine I will buy you lunch, will that make up for it?"

"It's been like four years, you don't think there's interest on that?" She throws up her free hand in exasperation and groans.

"Fine! I'll throw in dessert but that's my final offer." I'm good with that. I give her a wide grin and relax deeper into my seat. I'm only vaguely aware of other cars finally trickling in to the lot around us. "My whole point was that when we first met I thought you were such a hot mess."

"Thanks. Very much. Nice to know." She chuckles and reaches out to playfully tug one of my braided pigtails. It’s her thing. Some people hug, some people playfully punch, some people cuddle. Lirae likes playing with my pigtails. It’s probably why I wear them so often.

"I had every intention of bullying you every day for the rest of high school, or as long as I managed to stay before getting expelled, because you were such an easy target." Oh. Really? Even better. I'm liking this conversation less and less.

"So what changed your mind?" Because after that first lunch incident she never hassled me. Not even a little. And then one day she became one of my biggest defenders. No reason given just one day she was my friend and that was that.

"You did. You weren't like anyone else at that school. It's like you didn't care what anyone said about you or your mom. And like all of the gay bullying crap. You didn't care about how anyone treated you, you just…kept being Evie. I know some of the things people said hurt. I probably would have punched a lot of guys in the junk for some of the things they've said but it doesn't seem to faze you. And it doesn't stop you from helping those same jackasses even if they don't deserve it, even if they hurt you. I love that about you."

She's talking about Orson. He was one of my worst tormentors. His favorite prank was to steal one tire off my bike so that walking it home was impossible. Yeah. He's THAT guy. Sophomore year he thought it would be brilliant to get drunk with the football team and summon a demon. I'm not entirely sure how Mr. Kicks, the school mascot, was involved but he became the newly conjured demon's host. Hence. Demon goat. "Being an idiotic jerk shouldn't be a death sentence." Not that I didn't think about letting that goat give Orson a good poking with his horns but I just shrug it off with a light smile. "People are dicks, Lirae. You know that. Getting hurt is just part of life, it sucks super hard sometimes, but you just have to keep going."

"I don't want to hurt you, Evie." Somehow I feel like we're talking about something different, deeper now. "You're the only person I trust to get my back. I don't want to lose that or you." It occurs to me even as I close the distance between us that the guys could be back any second.

"Kinda right here." Just in case she needed the reminder. I don’t know what’s happening. I really don’t. One minute we’re sitting next to each other the next I’m practically in her lap. Our lips touch and I realize I really don't care if they do come back. There's a breathless second where Lirae is still and I think maybe I misread things. Then she sighs almost happily and deepens the kiss. The uncertainty vanishes and we melt into each other, as if this weren't the most inopportune time to decide to make out. I nibble her lower lip a little, making Lirae's breath catch. It makes me feel just a little smug. And grateful for all those summers I had to be the boy when my bunkmates wanted to play Date Night at Camp Little Hawk.

Of course that smug gratefulness evaporates the second something heavy crashes in to the side of the car, causing both of us to scream and jerk apart. Something dark and lumpy shaped scrambles over the hood of the car and we scream again when another heavy weight bounces us a second time in pursuit of the lumpy thing. "Hey!! Watch the hood." It's Mo and that's when I realize the lumpy thing was Warrow, and the yellow streak chasing him must be Orson in his favorite hooded sweatshirt. There's the sound of bodies hitting the hard ground and grunts of pain and cursing. I practically crawl over Lirae's lap to spill out the door of the car.

I'm not entirely sure which limbs belong to Warrow and which belong to the boys because they're in a tangled heap, rolling around on the ground all punching and kicking each other. After a few yelps and grunts Nat and Orson manage to wrangle Warrow to his feet. Mo limps towards us with a mutter and a bloody lip. "Found him."

"Le' go of me ye brats." Warrow struggles against Orson and Nat but they hold him firmly between them. He looks up then from the struggling and notices me standing there. "YOU! Are ye crazy?! I cannae be seen with ye. Ye'll be me death!" I frown slightly at that but there isn't time to question it now. We're starting to make an awful lot of noise. "The sigil! Put it on fer the love of Mary!" The sigil? Oh! I almost smack my head at my own stupidity. The rune. If it started the light it might be the thing that stops it. "Quickly now!" His panic sparks a deep unease in my guts. For a second I don't know where it is but my mother's journal is thrust in to my hands and I open the book, letting the necklace fall from its pages in to my hand. I haven't so much as looked at it since this all began. I guess I'm a little afraid of what might happen. Quickly I yank the chain over my head and settle the medallion against my skin. The pain in the back of my head starts to dissipate almost immediately and I groan in relief, slumping against the side of the car.

It's suddenly too dark and I pull the sunglasses off my face. Warrow's heavy brow scrunches down even further and for a second I can see a shadow shape around his head and the hint of nervously beating shadow wings. They're gone when I blink so I almost dismiss it at an overstimulated imagination. Almost. "We had better get out of here. Get him in the car."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. This is kidnapping ye know. They arrest people fer that…" It's an empty threat and we all know it. I snort at that and shake my head.

"Oh please like you'd willingly speak to the police about anything." I have him there and he knows it too. We manage to smoosh in to the car, our smelly friend wedged between Orson and I. Lirae wedges herself between the me and the car, our thighs pressed tightly against each other reminding me that just a few seconds ago we totally made out. Warrow glares from his spot beside me and grunts. I feel like he can read my thoughts and I shove them to the furthest corner of my mind for now. "How did you know this would work?" I hold the rune up a little and he goes a little green. We all slam back in the seats as Mo burns rubber peeling out of the lot just as customers start wandering out to see what all the commotion is about.

"Ye're the damned Beacon. Always knew ye'd find out bu' never thought ye'd be so damned stupid 'bout it." Hey, I kind of resent that and it makes me want to be a little mean. "They'll kill me just fer talking to ye. Ye've signed me death warrant, ye have."

"I guess we better not let them see you then. Pull over Mo." Mo gives me a questioning look but finds a dark and quiet stretch of road to pull over on. "Put him in the trunk."

"Hell yeah. This asshole messed up my jacket! You know how mad my grandmama is gonna be? Get up fool!" Orson opens the door and drags Warrow out by the scruff of his jacket. I can hear Nat and Orson struggling with Warrow as they shove him in the back. The trunk slams and faint banging can be heard even over the sounds of the boys getting back in the car. "I dunno what got in to you, Bacon, but I kind of like it." I glance at Lirae out of the corner of my eye but say nothing.

"We can't just leave him there forever." Mo pulls back out on to the road but flashes me a look in the rearview mirror. I don't plan to leave him there forever I just didn't feel like sitting next to him anymore. He smells.

"Just until we get to the clubhouse. He obviously knows something I don't." I'm pretty sure the glow is gone from my eyes now judging by the utterly average night vision I now have. The closer we get to the clubhouse the less sure I am about things. I mean. I feel better, my head isn't killing me but, I still feel unsettled and I'm not entirely sure I want the answers to all my questions. What if I find out something horrible? Like I'm not human or something. The car bounces along the gravel track but for the sounds of thumping and cursing from the trunk it's silent.

At least we know he hasn't escaped yet. It's not long before we're rolling to a stop in front of the shack. It's only now that I realize how tired I really am. Probably I could sleep for a few weeks straight. I scramble out of the car after Lirae and watch as the boys prepare to open the trunk. It's gotten too quiet and Orson thumps the trunk door. "Listen up, we're gonna open this trunk but if you give us shit I will slam the door right back down. You hearing me?"

There's no sound from the trunk and we all share a worried look. What if something happened to him back there? I saw Jawbreaker, it could happen! Mo slips the key in the lock and twists, the trunk door pops open with a slow creak, raising slowly. With a tense jerk, Orson yanks the lid up but Warrow is faster than we anticipated. And he found the broken golf club Mo keeps for 'emergencies' in the trunk. Orson doubles over as the wind is knocked out of him from a hard jab of the 9 iron to his gut. Warrow kicks out with a stubby leg catching Nat in the chest and sending him back against his brother.

He's almost free of the trunk when I do the only thing I know how. I swing my leg up between both of his and kick him soundly in his junk. Warrow's face goes purple and he drops to his knees in the dirt, wheezing. "Sorry!" Kind of. Orson raises a hand and for a minute I blink at it stupidly before realizing he’s waiting for a high five from someone. Oh! It’s me. I almost cautiously bring a hand up and slap it quickly against his as if waiting for him to pull it away on me. He doesn’t. Orson just chuckles a little and grabs Warrow less than kindly to haul him to his feet.

"Nice." I turn my head at the chuckle beside me and smile at Lirae. "You're all kinds of surprising tonight Evie. Like I said. Never boring." The five of us manage to drag Warrow in to the clubhouse without further incident. He glares at us but is resolutely quiet. Even when dumped unceremoniously in the farting beanbag chair. We all find places to sit before I start off.

"I'm sorry about this Warrow but I didn't think you'd be particularly willing to help." He says nothing but his glare, if possible, gets darker. "You obviously know a lot more than I do right now and the truth is I really need your help. Please."

I can see the struggle in his beady little eyes. He's torn between staying quiet out of spite and getting something out of the deal. I raise a brow and lean forward a little to let him know I'm very serious. I'm only a little bothered that he leans back away from me. "And what are ye offering me? Hm? Anything of worth?"

We have some money but not what he'd ask, and we don't really have much else. Except one thing. "Well we could let you go when we're done talking. Then you'd be free to slink away into whatever dank hidey hole you have. You might even manage to avoid whatever is out there hunting me." I pretend to think on it for a second. "Or we can just parade around town with you, make it real obvious how close of friends we are. Take in a movie, or have a coffee…" I'm betting he doesn't want the latter. He made it very clear the further he is from me the happier he is. "I might could even hold your hand a little." I try really hard not to let it show how much the idea of doing just that bothers me. I can’t even look at my friends because I know I’ll see the same stink faced look I want to make reflected on each of theirs. Just to make a point I start reaching my hand out to Warrow’s and he pulls it back very quickly.

Warrow gives a horrified look and hisses out a breath. I lean back a little, readjusting my weight on the arm of the loveseat. "A bargain aye? Ask me questions three, on oath of blood against falsehood, three truths to set me free." That sounds…way more serious than ‘I'll take your word for it’. It sounds like a magic binding. What the actual hell? I don’t repeat the words just in case, I only nod my agreement.

"What are you?" Damnit! I didn't mean to ask that! Warrow smiles at me knowingly and shrugs lightly.

"Three truths promised, m'dear. I am a gargoyle. My kind has watched over the affairs of men and demons alike. No secrets can be kept from us for we are the very darkness that covers all things."

"Shut the front door." That is nothing like the cartoon. Both disappointing and super cool at the same time. Well that's what I get for using Disney cartoons as a point of reference for real life. Orson gives a disappointed grunt and I bite back the chuckle knowing he’s thinking the same thing I am. Focus Evie, Focus!

"Ye don't have much of one do ye?" Lirae shoots her leg out, kicking him on the sole of his boot in retaliation. Warrow raises his hands in a placating gesture and looks around with sharp little eyes. "Not much in the way of security here at all. Weren't for the consecrated ground, ye'd be sunk for sure." Consecrated ground? We didn't actually know that but I'm going to pretend like we did. "Course it won't keep shifters out. They're a bit of the gray area y'see."

"Or gargoyles apparently." It's not a question exactly and he gives me a nod of acceptance of that but says nothing more. "So you know all kinds of secret things and you aren't bound by consecrated ground. Good to know. Now. What am I? I mean I know I'm a Beacon but what is that exactly?"

He gives me a disgusted tsking sound and grunts. "A Beacon? More like The Beacon. Ye're the literal light in the dark. Haven't ye always known ye were different? Dark things and the like, drawn to ye with no reason? I know ye've had the nightmares too. How's the sleep stone workin' fer ye by the way?" I haven't thought about it much with all that's been going on but the magic monkey turd must be working because I can't recall any disturbing dreams. I'm not quite ready to admit that because I have a nauseating feeling that he's waiting to collect on his payment for it. I give him a dismissive wave and glance to my friends, silently asking what they think.

My eyes land on Nat first, his eager face letting me know he wants to know more. I expect that from him, he's the jump in to the fray guy. Mo looks more wary but he gives a short nod of support to me and I smile. I turn to eye the two other occupants of the loveseat. Lirae bumps my hip with her shoulder and Orson jerks his head in a nod. Okay then. I'm careful how I word things so that I get the right answers. "This has to do with my mom, her journal, her sigil."

"There a question in there lass?" No. I know this has to do with her and most of the answers I'm looking for are probably in her journal. I just have to buck up and read it. So I guess what I really need to know is how safe I am.

"If I can see them, they can see me. How much danger am I in now that I'm…this?"

I don't think he was expecting that question and he cocks his head to one side thinking. "The sigil shields yer light. Safe enough until ye learn to control the curse. If ye can. Yer mam never managed, weren't her fault though. Her Guardian failed her, broke their bond and left her defenseless. The power you carry now, was too much for her then to contain. Made her crazy ye see. If ye don't bond with a Guardian ye'll go the same way as her. That's dangerous enough don't ye think?"

I swallow thickly barely registering the warm hand giving a reassuring squeeze to my leg. "What Guardian?" He stands with a cocky smirk and waggles a grimy finger at me.

"Tsk tsk. Three truths given. We're done here I think." Nat stands immediately, ready to fight if necessary but I hold out a hand and shake my head. A deal is a deal. Warrow rubs his stubbled chin, giving me a deeply considering glance. "I'll give ye this fer free since we're such good friends. But after this we've no more business between us save the debt ye owe and best remember, I always collect." I give a slight nod at that and he settles his trench coat better on his shoulders. "Ye already know where to find her Guardian. He's been holding all yer secrets all along."

In a burst of shadow and a grainy mist, Warrow spins, his shape twisting and roiling like an inky black sand storm. Wings and a body the size of a small pony fill the room and we all hit the deck with confused shouts. Black sulphurous grit swirls around us in the wake of Warrow's downdraft. For a second I'm confused by the softness of the ground until I realize that I'm on top of Lirae. And there are boobs in my hands.

"Well well…what's going on over here…as you were ladies." I let go like I've been burned and attempt roll off of her without being obvious. My body topples awkwardly to the ground with a thump and we both groan and glance over at Orson in mild irritation. I get up carefully and hold a hand out for Lirae. She doesn't let it go once we're both standing so I just go with it. "Alright then. Maybe next time." Keep on dreaming dude, it's never happening for you. "So what's the plan?"

"Right now? I just want to go home and sleep. I know I can find answers in mom's journal. Maybe even something to clue me in on this Guardian person." I know Warrow said I already knew the Guardian but that could be anyone I've ever met. It's too vague of a clue and I'm just too tired to try and puzzle it out. "Tomorrow is Saturday so I'll probably be here all day. I'm not really in the mood to be at home too much right now. What about you guys?"

"I've got an early shift at work but I can be here in the afternoon. I'll bring a couple of pies from Delpino's." Delpino's pizza pies. My mouth is watering already and Mo smiles at me. "Knew that'd cheer you up."

"Me and Nat have the team breakfast for the booster club. Grandmama is out in La Luz with Petey for the Trinity County Science Finals." Trinity County is where we live, specifically in Temple City. La Luz and Blessing Township are the only other towns around. Three small towns in one small county. "I'll have the truck all day. I think we should pick up a few things to make this place a little more secure now that Warrow's been here."

He's not wrong. Nat nods his agreement with Orson at that. "Yeah I've got some supplies in the garage we can use. We'll swing by after the breakfast. What about you Lirae?"

"I'm free, I'll meet Evie at home and we can walk here together." Hm. I'm suddenly aware of the fact that everyone is making an effort to be where I am. As if I shouldn't be alone. I eye them questioningly but no one offers any answers. This is one of those times when they've silently agreed on something I was not privy too. I'm too tired to care so I let it go. We can talk about it in the morning.

#my writing #the av club story dredful tales

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tenspontaneite · 7 years

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Paper Cranes Q&A 3

Topics covered: ‘disease’ progression, lots of things related to Sai and metaphysics, spiritually sensitive canon characters, What’s Up With Touya’s Weird Soul, technicalities and things and stuff. 20 questions covered in total.

Spoilers for: Up to end of chapter 22. Maybe some very slight hints of things to come.

When exactly will Hikaru begin feeling effects of his Problem?

Well. Uh. Spoilers? But like I said in the notes, it’s not going to get Very Bad during the timeframe of the story. The reincarnation-AU I’ve been planning is another matter entirely though since it’s set at least 15 years later Also while dysautonomia can lead to tremors, which would make it difficult to play Go, different patients may experience very different symptoms based on which parts of the nervous system are damaged first. So…it’s not guaranteed he wouldn’t be able to play Go. It’s just possible that at some point he’d have bad enough tremors to possibly launch Go stones across the room by accident instead of placing them. Or accidentally majorly mess up the stones surrounding where he placed his. Etc.

If Sai came back, would be be able to fill up Hikaru’s soul and stop the degeneration?

Well, hypothetically, any possessing spirit could do this. Not just Sai. But it works best between physically similar souls – the more similar they are, the easier they mesh. That’s another reason why Sai’s soul-bits stick around like they do. The lingering emotion and intent isn’t the only thing there. Very dissimilar souls would passively damage each other in such a possession, so even a benevolent possessing spirit would have a hard time not hurting its host.

Are there other spiritually sensitive canon characters?

Kuwabara is the only one I’d class as actually sensitive enough to be aware, so to speak. But there are others who are….predisposed, let’s say, to being sensitive, and becoming more sensitive. That should be talked about relatively soon in the story. Next few chapters maybe.

What’s up with Touya’s unusual looking soul?

See the above question. It’s highly relevant. The Touya males certainly aren’t the only ones, either.

Will Touya find out?

Spoilers!

Will Yashiro find out?

…Spoilers!

Why was Nurse Furutani so suspicious?

She is good at noticing Obvious Things, like the tension between Hikaru and Touya, and is watchful for any hint that Touya might commit the cardinal sin of Upsetting A Patient or even Causing A Ruckus. After a while she determines that their discussion is probably okay and leaves.

Is there a way to heal soul damage in a living human?

Absolutely not. It’s a fundamental property of souls anchored in a true physical body that the soul can’t significantly change in form whilst anchored. This includes growing, healing, or changing ‘shape’. Embodied spirits work differently. Reincarnated major spirits and kami work slightly differently.

Wouldn’t calling out the grid position only work if Touya was on Hikaru’s side of the board?

Now, I’m no experienced Go player, but considering how frequently people might be required to place moves recited by a speaker (e.g. one person reads from kifu, other person places) I always assumed they defaulted to Black’s side of the board, because that would make sense. If anyone more familiar with this stuff than me knows otherwise, do let me know, and I’ll add it to the minor-edits-list.

Can humans make donations to Hikaru?

I….well…uh….they could??? If you got someone (Hikaru or a spirit) to rip out a chunk of their soul, yes, yes they could. But 1) human souls are far more viscerally entrenched than disembodied souls and it’s far, far more traumatic to remove parts of them than it is for disembodied spirits, 2) the damage to them would never heal until they were dead, and they’d become a possession target without the advantage of Huge Leftover Energy that Hikaru has, and 3) most human souls are like…small. Bits of them are even smaller. They wouldn’t be very useful donations. They’d last like, a few days. Certainly no longer than a week.

Is Hikaru going to feel better about the early expiration date when he thinks about how Shuusaku died at 33?

Well…no. No? I mean, in general, ‘x person I never knew had it worse’ is not really consolation for ‘my own situation is downright shitty’. And really, while Torajirou would have been Extremely Screwed if Sai ever left him (over ten years of possession, yikes) his death from disease was unpleasant but relatively quick in comparison. I mean. Degenerative diseases are awful, okay.

Also I’m very fond of the way you worded that. ‘Expiration date’. Hah.

Is it weird that I want to write fanfic of your fanfic?

You know what, no, I don’t think it is. I’m definitely not biased on the matter, nope. Also at some point I’m going to be writing fanfic of my fanfic, so.

Is Sai aware, wherever he is?

SPOILERS.

What does Utagawashi’s usual outfit look like?

Like this. https://media.gettyimages.com/photos/shinto-priests-at-meiji-shrine-during-ceremony-picture-id597589563

Basically very similar to what Sai wears. Also that picture contains the priestly baton things that I’ve mentioned in the story a couple of times.

Does Hikaru get any foxy qualities from the bits of fox soul he’s using as adhesive?

As Hikaru is a Live Human, his soul cannot undergo any significant form changes. The soul bits are extremely personal but can’t influence the nature of Hikaru’s soul.

Could it be argued that Hikaru’s aptitude for Go comes from Sai’s soul/energy?

No. I would like to outright, unequivocally word-of-author this: Hikaru’s talent is his own. He is good at Go, and has a talent for it. The end.

What could have plausibly been influenced by Sai is his enthusiasm and enjoyment of Go, but only via the same sort of cross-contamination as seeing a friend of yours be really enthusiastic about something. More intense, because he can directly feel the emotions of Sai on the matter, but same concept. As mentioned before, live human souls are highly resistant to forcible form changes. Modification of interests and talents certainly falls under that.

Also plausible: Sai’s instincts and impulses with regard to the game might have carried over during the active possession, which would have helped him learn faster. It would have been very subtle, though. And the traces remaining now are not nearly cohesive and sapient enough to have that sort of effect.

Would the Gigantic Spirit Boom Pillar be detectable to exorcists/priests outside of the city?

As a rule, no. Hikaru would feel something like that. Probably Kaminaga too, at this point. Anyone else would have to be very close, as very few living humans are that sensitive to the currents in the spirit layer.

Spirits, though? They live in the spirit layer. I’d say every spirit in Japan and many others further out would have felt the ripples. Any particularly powerful spirit would have felt it on the other side of the globe. Suffice to say, every spirit in Japan knows that Something Big went down, and gossip and word-of-mouth is sufficient for them to know that it was Ancient Demon specifically who went down. There’s...so, so many rumours among spirits, right now.

Would foxes enjoy soap operas?

Well. Based on individual tastes, I guess? They are generally all quite mischievous by nature and will be far more interested in what they can witness personally or perpetrate personally than in the antics of fictional characters. But that’s subject to individual differences as it is in humans. Some will prefer some types of media to others.

What will happen to Utagawashi’s shrine now that its aspect of Inari has died? Will a new aspect replace it?

To make a new aspect for that shrine, they’d need to do a ceremony to imbue the shrine with Inari’s essence. So, pretty much, make a new shintai. I think Utagawashi’s chances of making this happen are pretty high, but if he can’t get it done through official channels he’ll probably just team up with an Inari fox to do it himself.

Do you know that Paper Cranes is the most kudosed Hikago thing on ao3 aside from esama’s multifandom thing?

I check my stats every single day, anon. I am most definitely aware of that. And it’s glorious. You know my thing has approaching twice as many bookmarks as the next closest competitor, right? Like, dude, it’s amazing. You would not believe how often I sit around preening about my story’s stats. And...well, idk, I might be running out of hikago fic readers who haven’t got to my story yet, but if I can get another 1k kudos by the time the story ends I could get genuine first place there. I’m not bothered if not, but it’s definitely something I think about.

#fic: paper cranes #q&a

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

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Scarab #2

This looks like the original cover to a Philip K. Dick book where you just knew the editor and publisher had no idea what was happening so they commissioned some artist to just paint some "crazy fantasy shit."

Boredom warning: the protagonist of this comic book is still a super old guy.

Eleanor isn't dead like everybody who read the first issue believed by the end of it. That means about ten people were surprised when they picked up Issue #2 of this series. Logically, I know more than ten people purchased Scarab #2. But if we lived in a world where comic book readers didn't just constantly shrug their shoulders and keep buying every issue of a series simply because they picked up the first issue and actually limited their purchases to comic books that had an entertaining previous issue, my estimate would probably be pretty close to the mark. Louis has brought Eleanor back into the Labyrinth of Doors to keep her alive because time doesn't work there. I mean, it does work there because people can move around there and movement is a symptom of time. Symptom might be the wrong word but when have I ever cared about my word choices? You either have time or you have stasis. You can't have both! Unless you live in the Phantom Zone and then I don't know what the fuck is going on. Sometimes kids grow up there and other times dogs roam billions of miles unchanged to find their stupid boy. If Louis wanted to be more accurate, he'd point out that life functions seem to slow down to imperceptibility inside the Labyrinth of Doors. If Eleanor seems like she didn't age for fifty years while living there previously, she probably won't bleed out until he can figure out how to work Scarab's super life saving powers on Eleanor, the way he used them after he was thrown out of a second floor window and became an undulating sack of blood and broken bones that somehow wormed his way up two flights of stairs and opened the bottom drawer of a dresser (which is the biggest impossibility. Go lie on your stomach on the floor right now and try to open your dresser drawer. If you were successful, now go belly flop off the roof of the house and try again, smart ass). Louis admits that Eleanor's soul has left her body so he's really just taking care of a naked empty vessel. The naked part is the most important part of Eleanor's current description. Why else would he want to prolong his grief when he knows she's dead? Now this pervert just gets his kicks off bathing her every twenty minutes.

See? He admits it.

The Phantom Stranger arrives because why not. A writer has to throw something into this thing to attract buyers. Fans of The Phantom Stranger would have been all over this comic book when they saw him on the cover, probably doubling the amount of people who purchased it. Yes, I'm saying there are only ten Phantom Stranger fans. The Phantom Stranger really is a genius idea for a comic book character. If you call your character a stranger that means you can't divulge too much about that character lest they stop being a stranger. Which means you don't actually have to do any real work building the character, or giving the character motivation, or making any kind of sense at all! You can just have him poke his nose into other people's business every now and...um...help? Maybe not help? Maybe just judge. I don't really know what he does because he's been written so well over the years! I wish I could write a character this popular without ever giving it any defining characteristics or motivation. Oh, excuse me, I suppose The Phantom Stranger does have some defining characteristics. I forgot about the fedora and the trench coat. Meanwhile, a beam of light that used to be somebody (Eleanor? The Sicari?) flies through God's eye, circles Hell, and winds up coming its brains out in the Internet. I don't know how sexually exciting the Internet was in 1993. It was mostly just AOL chat rooms, bank account draining Neverwinter Nights, and Star Trek bulletin boards. Okay fine. I admit it. Just typing that gave me a boner. Once DC's Vertigo line was fully up and running with a few major titles leading the way and proclaiming, "This is what Vertigo is!", other titles with newer writers came along and all produced exactly the kind of shit that Vertigo apparently was. I don't know if I can fully articulate what that was, sort of a mash-up of Milligan's weirdness and sensitivity from Shade the Changing Man combined with the stark, metaphysical horrors of Moore's Swamp Thing and the shitty, grim reality and politics of Delano's Hellblazer with a sprinkling of the intellectual topsy-turvy re-tellings of mythic unreality of Gaiman's Sandman. But even unable to really describe it, I fucking know when I read something written to be a Vertigo title rather than written to be a story worthy of being a Vertigo title.

This might as well be a Polaroid of writer John Smith wanking himself off.

The early nineties were full of these kinds of Vertigo titles that just strung together words and phrases trying to invoke some kind of profound weirdness. Even the previous series I discussed, Milligan's The Extremist, came off as one of these books that was just putting on the clothing of Vertigo to make it seem more important. But at least The Extremist used the weird and outlandishly adult story to portray flawed humans considering their lives and how they got to where they were and what the fuck do they do now? There were some really bleak and gut-wrenching moments in The Extremist that I truly loved even if the plot didn't matter much to me. But it was the plot that pulled and pushed the characters to those moments, so who am I to complain? Also there were plenty of titties. I know, I know! All you high-falutin' comic book nerds don't read comic books to get boners like I do! Well la dee da! Just remember that I'm not judging you for getting your kicks by sticking your genitals in Blue Bonnet ice cream and putting it back in the display case. Um, anyway, this comic book still has a lot of space so I'm not giving up on it providing me with great moments. And since my tone in this commentary says I'm casually beating the shit out of Smith's writing," I should probably show something I sort of liked. The Phantom Stranger has touched Louis's head to make him relive some of his memories as Scarab. And while it's an easy way to present a bunch of "weird" story fragments that John Smith doesn't have to expound on, I still like this one:

The Non-Certified Spouse tells me "Weltschmerz" means, literally translated, "world pain."

On the left hand, this is just more of that "here's some weird stuff to stick into this magazine to make it Vertigo!" But on the right hand, I'd love for this to actually be a story that Smith thought out and formed into a coherent, deep, and touching two to four issue arc. Maybe Smith jotted it down and thought, "That's really all that needs to be said about that." But isn't that also how pitches start? This is a pitch. The story that could grow from this could be tragic and heartbreaking with all the nihilistic elements to ultimately provide evidence of the uplifting and hopeful nature of mankind. I think maybe this one panel should have been the pitch for Scarab. Some more of Louis's memories ("Frozen in ice on the dark side of the moon, summoning the Breathing Trees for help" and "Teaming up with Sargon the Sorcerer against the dreaded double menace of Doktor Vortex and The Quote") help establish that the Scarab had weird adventures that, while extruding the essence of Vertigo phrases, also helps ground the Scarab in the Golden Age. Because that's weird shit that you can absolutely see on the cover of comics with huge price tags hanging on the wall behind the counter of any local comic book shop. No difference exists between the two scenarios I just quoted and Batman and Robin battling "The man who saw with his fingers!" Smith is definitely evoking the Golden Age here. And, of course, Vertigo because that Auschwitz thing.

Look at me! Reading into and explicating the evidence of the text when I could have just kept reading ahead and had John Smith say it to me plainly.

The Phantom Stranger tells Louis he needs to become the Scarab again because "the world skin is diseased" and "the wheels of chance are turning too fast" and "disorder corrupts the physical plane." But then when Louis is all, "So that's why all this shit is happening!", The Phantom Stranger says, "Well, I mean, it's hard to tell for sure. But, you know, maybe somebody sent the Sicari. It's a possibility. But then, maybe not. Who knows? But just do what I say, just in case! I'm sure if Madame Xanadu were here, she'd totally agree with me." Meanwhile, the light that actually is Eleanor isn't in the Internet at all. When it said it had entered "the Net" while orgasming harder than it's ever orgasmed before (take that, Louis!), I simply assumed Smith was being all cutting edge in 1993. But he just meant the "net of life" or whatever. She's just connected to everything now. That's probably a better path for this story since the Internet wouldn't get interesting for another year when Geocities came along and The X-Files fan pages started to proliferate like cancer cells. Louis's only desire is to find Eleanor again so if becoming Scarab can help do that, he'll take it back and maybe he'll get around to saving the world too. The Phantom Stranger just remains silent because that's what he does best. As if he knows anything! He's totally acting like he knows stuff by not saying stuff but really looking like he knows that stuff while he really don't know any of that stuff. Like knows like, my man, and I see you! The Phantom Stranger leaves and Louis asks the scarabaeus (that's the thing that turns him into the Scarab which I also probably spelled incorrectly) to make him young again and it works! Issue #3 is going to be more exciting simply because the protagonist isn't an old man anymore! Me and six other people can't wait for it! Scarab #3 Rating: B. Enh, it wasn't so bad! Sure, I had plenty to criticize. But in the end, it's a story about mortality and longing for the expansive freedom and possibility that fall further and further into a person's past until all they have left is the end of fatigue promised by death! I can totally relate to this shit.

#Scarab #John Smith #Scot Eaton #Mike Barreiro #Vertigo #DC Comics #DC

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lisatelramor · 7 years

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Korigatachi

AN: We’ve reached the end of my fic backlog, and the last of the kiss prompts! (Which means it miiiight be a bit until I next post fic. Maybe. We’ll see.) Prompt for this one was: Hikaru/Daisuke – shivering.

Stupid Go conference. Stupid secluded location. Stupid Hikaru for deciding to go on a walk. Stupid weather for deciding to storm. Stupid universe, Hikaru thought, teeth clacking together as he was wracked with another shiver. His thick winter coat, which had seemed like it would be warm enough to outlast negative degrees, felt pretty useless now. But that had been before he decided to take a walk on one of the trails out behind the inn in the middle of Podunk nowhere and before he had gotten lost and before he had tripped down a hill and into a creek that wasn’t as frozen as it had looked at the top of the hill.

He couldn’t feel his fingers right and everything was so cold it hurt. His hair was frozen in spikes and he was shaking so bad that it was getting hard to walk. “So stupid,” he chattered, voice wobbling, but better than just the crunch crunch crunch of his boots on ice and snow and dead plants. It was snowing hard and everything was white or gray or vague tree shapes in all directions. What if he lost fingers? How the heck was he supposed to place Go stones if he didn’t have the right fingers?

Hikaru was hopelessly lost, and while typically you were supposed to stay still and not move until someone found you when you were lost, Hikaru had the feeling that if he stopped moving he’d be a lot worse off than maybe losing fingers or toes.

“Shoulda taken a bath.” He staggered on in what he thought was the right direction. “Shoulda sucked it up and played a game with Kida.” Even though Kida was kind of worse than Ochi and way too full of himself for a kid that just barely made it to pro. (Hikaru had been a pro for almost five years now, he could call a new pro a kid even if the guy was technically older than he was.) “Shoulda just told the Association no in the first place.” He should have known when he was the highest level Dan asked to go—and when Kida was chosen. No one liked Kida—that it was going to be a joke. A ‘conference’ for a backwater area of Go playing grandpas who’d pooled funds to get actual pros to show up. In an inn in the middle of the woods.

“Like some kind of horror movie scenario.” He’d mumbled this to himself half a dozen times already, but it was much easier to repeat yourself and focus on how stupid the situation was than to reflect on the seriousness of the current moment. Touya was going to resurrect Hikaru’s popsicle ass just to yell at him for dying in the middle of a woods. His mom was going to cry. Sai was probably giving Hikaru that sad disappointed look somewhere from some metaphysical plane of existence. Hikaru hated Sai’s sad face. Like kicking a puppy or something.

He tripped, got a face full of snow that...didn’t actually make much of a difference when there was so much snow falling and blowing up his nose anyway. It didn’t burn the way the creek had burned, more a numb discomfort which was probably a bad sign. Hikaru shuddered in a miserable ball on the ground. Sai’s sad face. Mom crying. Akari crying. Touya’s murderous rage. Yup, he was getting up, still walking, gonna just... Hikaru forced himself to his feet.

“Gonna curl up in the biggest blanket,” he said, numb lips slurring the words. “And drink black tea even though it’s night. And ask for the biggest bowl of ramen the inn has. They’d better have ramen.” He shuffled forward. Were the trees thinner here? It was hard to tell, just white, white, gray, and more white with that weird muffling effect that falling snow had. “Gonna get warm and replay as many of Shusaku’s games as I can remember off the top of my head.” Those were the Go equivalent of comfort food to him. Full of Sai but with none of the bittersweet feelings that replaying any of the games Sai played when he was with Hikaru sometimes held. “Gonna sleep for a week.” Would almost dying be forgivable for not doing his job for the conference? Unforeseeable complications and circumstances and all.

Hikaru was an idiot and brought this on himself.

The gray was becoming thicker—maybe the sun was going down and it was just getting darker in general? Then he walked face first into something flat and solid and vertical that definitely wasn’t a tree. Trees which he hadn’t seen for...for...heck, he didn’t know how many steps now.

“Ow.” He felt the jar from hitting it in his nose at least. Not completely numb then. It was a wall of some sort. Hikaru could have cried from relief. He didn’t but only because he was kind of scared that if he cried it would just freeze on his face and maybe freeze his eyes shut. Hikaru followed the wall, leaning against it until it came to a porch that was mounded over with snow, but it had a door and that was the most beautiful thing Hikaru had seen in hours. “Holy shit, let me in.” It was less knocking than bodily falling against the door, but it got the same result. It was on the second attempt at knocking that Hikaru realized something that he should have probably noticed before, namely that there weren’t any lights on in the window, and that the building was probably empty. And locked. This time he almost did cry.

No, no, there was still a chance he could get inside...somehow...and get warm. Warmer. Dry at the very least.

Hikaru tried the door handle. Miracle of miracles, it was unlocked. He stared dumbly at the open door, snow blowing through the crack to speckle the entryway floor like salt spilled on a table. Either there was some higher power that took pity or the world was trying to balance out the shit luck of the day so far by some spectacularly improbable good luck. Hikaru didn’t bother trying to figure out which. He all but fell into the room and shut the door behind him.

It was dark inside, so dark he could barely make out his hands now that he shut the door, but there was enough vague light from the windows that he could see a dusty space with guest sandals and a step up to the rest of the place. It must be a summer house or something. A summer house wouldn’t have water or electricity during the winter months probably, but it was pretty likely he’d be able to find some bedding or something that he could warm up with.

It might just be his cold-addled mind, but Hikaru could swear there were wet spots on the floor ahead of him as well as the ones he left behind as slush fell off his coat and snow-encrusted jeans. He passed a kitchen (empty), dining room (empty), bathroom (empty), found a set of stairs and at the top was a bedroom (possibility?). He headed straight for the closet, numb fingers fumbling the sliding door open. There was a futon in there, folded up neatly with bedding on the shelf and Hikaru could have cried a third time. There was even one of those little gas space heaters tucked in the back corner. Hikaru pulled the whole mess out and started stripping, shivering even harder.

Had to get colder before he could get warm; off with the wet and surround himself with dry things. His fingers were clumsy on the clothes fastenings like they were twice as thick and much less flexible than they should be. When he finally got the clothes off, his hands felt like ice against his own skin. His body heat burned his hands. It felt like plunging his hand into too hot of water and pins and needles from it falling asleep at the same time. It was probably the good kind of pain though since at least he could feel it at all.

Three blankets went around his shoulders, then the whole futon, and he still couldn’t stop shivering. His toes and ears burned as the blankets started to do their job and trap heat. Not enough though, he could already tell and he already knew he didn’t have the dexterity right now to try and turn on the space heater. That and he’d have to climb back out of the blankets to do it. For all his ability at a game of strategy, applying strategy to life was not one of his great achievements.

Hikaru looked at it, sniffling as his nose had decided it was going to work again and was making up for being half frozen by dripping like a leaky faucet. He loosened the blanket to just turn the damn thing on when something crashed on the other side of the wall. “What the hell!?” He yelped, overbalancing and tripping over his trapped feet, face planting into blanket-padded floor. “Ow.” Better than falling in the snow earlier at least.

“Hello?” Hikaru called, wondering for the first time if he wasn’t actually alone here after all. The door had been unlocked. Maybe there was someone hanging out in the woods. In a snowstorm. With all the lights off and no electricity.

There was a second crash and a muffled exclamation of “Shit!” confirming that, yes, whatever was on the other side of the wall was human. Moments later another door opened and closed and someone staggered to Hikaru’s doorway.

He was a bit younger than Hikaru was, maybe sixteen or seventeen at most, with the brightest red hair Hikaru had ever seen on another human being. He was also even more soaked than Hikaru had been with less layers and looked like death warmed over. He wasn’t shivering much, and Hikaru wasn’t sure if that was bad or not. They stared at each other for a moment before the stranger sneezed violently, smacking his head against the doorframe in the process.

“Oww...” he groaned.

“You’re stuck hiding from the storm too?” Hikaru asked.

“You c-could say that.” The stranger rubbed his arms, teeth clicking together partway through his sentence.

Hikaru’s body seemed to take that as cue to remind him that he was still way too cold and shuddered hard. “Y-you know it’s a bit better once you get wet stuff off.”

“Don’t have anything else to wear.”

“Me neither,” Hikaru said. His clothes were a sad pile on the floor. He should hang them up if he wanted any hope of them drying... “Blanket?” he offered because that was about the best he could do.

The stranger looked at the messy tangle of bedding and futon piled around Hikaru with a glazed expression. Actually his eyes had been a bit unfocussed the whole time. Not good. With a nod, the guy started toward the blanket nest.

“Wet clothes!” Hikaru reminded him with a yelp.

“Right.” Off came the wet shirt and jacket—both black. Actually all of his clothes were black, was it a weird fashion statement?—then pants and socks. He didn’t touch his underwear thankfully because near death or not, Hikaru really wasn’t interested in getting that up close and personal with a stranger.

Hikaru braved the cold to open a corner and try the space heater. It clicked a few times before it lit, but it did light, so yay, point toward his luck improving. Seconds later there was a rush of cold air as the stranger invaded the blanket bubble. Hikaru yelped as icy, damp skin pressed against his. Cold! So cold! Gah! He strangled the blankets back around them to at least block out the draft as the red-headed stranger latched onto him like he was a long lost lover.

“You. Uh. You okay there?” Hikaru asked.

“Mrrgh.” There was a very cold nose against Hikaru’s collarbone and red hair dripping water all down his front. Despite this, the blanket nest was warming rapidly. Hikaru’s hands and feet were all tingly and achy, but very much still in one piece. The stranger’s limbs could have been carved from ice for all the warmth they had though they didn’t seem to share Hikaru’s stiffness.

Hikaru poked him. The guy squirmed but didn’t seem inclined to move. He was shivering now, smaller shivers than what had run their course on Hikaru’s body, but at least his body was trying to warm up.

“We could sit next to each other...?” Hikaru said.

The stranger didn’t move. He might have even gripped tighter. Hikaru didn’t know what to do. His own shivers were starting to die down and when he flexed his hands they ached, but they bent without much pain or difficulty. He would live. His mom and Akari wouldn’t have to cry! Touya would still probably try to kill him. But only because Hikaru got himself into this mess.

The stranger shivered a little harder and burrowed as close as possible, like he was trying to get inside Hikaru’s skin.

“Okay. Sure. What’s some huddling for warmth among strangers?” Hikaru muttered hysterically.

“Warm,” the stranger mumbled.

“Yeah, better than out there.” It was weird to have a guy practically in his lap, but it was warm, and that was kind of the point. It was getting warmer too as the space heater poured out hot air next to them. All at once, exhaustion hit him. Adrenaline or whatever else it was that had been keeping Hikaru trudging forward seemed to drop away all at once like being hit with a sack of bricks made of sleep sand. “You have a name?” Hikaru asked, eyelids drooping. He slouched forward leaning against the stranger as much as the guy was leaning on him.

“Mm. Dais’ke.”

“Cool. I’m Hikaru.” Hikaru’s eyes slid shut. “Don’t turn out to be a serial killer or something,” he mumbled, losing the battle of staying awake.

“Hmm.” It could have been a laugh, or it could have been Daisuke mumbling in his maybe sleep. Hikaru didn’t find out. Instead of fighting the pull, he let go, letting his body rest like it wanted to.

It was warm. Hikaru was surrounded by something soft against his skin, curled up with someone else, bare skin against skin. Had he made the mistake of drinking at one of Waya’s parties again and making out with someone? He wrinkled his nose as hair tickled against it. Whoever the other person was, they were drooling onto his collarbone. Hikaru’s nose wasn’t letting him breathe through it and his throat was a bit scratchy. Maybe not drinking then... He shifted, poking his head out of the warm cocoon of blankets and bodies. He squinted at the small space heater a meter away and at the unfamiliar walls. The person who had their face mushed against his neck made a soft sound of protest as he sat up straight.

Oh. Shit, right, the snow storm. And the person was... Bright red hair peeked out from the blanket folds. Daisuke. Their clothes were still strewn across the floor, probably not much drier than when they’d been stripped off last night. Daisuke’s black clothing looked especially dark with sunlight coming through the windows, bright from reflecting off the snow. There was something reddish that glinted in the sunlight near the dark clothing pile. Hikaru blinked. His eyes widened. That was some fancy gemstone, one that Akari had gushed about just two days ago, waving a picture of it in his face because it was part of some collection being shown and she’d wanted to go see it. He had a vague memory of some famous thief announcing he was going to steal it.

“Holy shit,” Hikaru breathed. He’d just spent the night in skinship with a thief. He knew what the thief looked like. Holy shit.

The body against his shifted again, a sleepy whine coming from the thief’s throat. “Go back t’sleep,” he mumbled pushing at Hikaru’s shoulders. Hikaru slumped back, too much in shock to protest. The thief shifted up his body eyes still closed and a sleepy smile on his face. Hikaru went rigid as he was kissed.

The thief froze too. His brow wrinkled and his eyes slitted open before going wide. Faster than Hikaru could blink, Daisuke was on the other side of the room. Hikaru would think he’d teleported except he’d felt wiry arms push off against his chest. The thief’s eyes darted around. “Who are you and where are my clothes?!” he asked.

“Uh.” Hikaru pointed at the pile of clothing.

Quick as a flash, Daisuke grabbed his jacket, holding it in front of his body. A blush almost as bright as his hair trailed from his face and down his neck.

A shy thief. Huh. Hikaru scratched his hair, letting the blankets pool around his waist. Daisuke’s eyes went wider as he took in Hikaru’s bare chest. “So. There was a pretty bad snow storm last night and I’m pretty sure we both almost froze to death. We both got in here somehow and shared heat last night.”

“Snowstorm...” Daisuke’s eyes shot to the gemstone laying in plain sight. “...I vaguely remember a snowstorm. And crashing. And unlocking a door...”

“Is that how it got unlocked? Thanks for that. I’d’ve been dead for sure otherwise.” Thank goodness for random houses in the woods with blankets and space heaters. “I went for a walk and got lost and then that snowstorm came from out of nowhere.”

Daisuke twitched at that last sentence, but Hikaru wasn’t sure what could possibly have set him off with that. “Right. And you shared blankets last night.”

“And body heat,” Hikaru said making his voice cheerful. He could either freak out or he could accept it and just get on with life. It was funnier to watch the thief freak out and chalk the whole thing up to one more oddity in his life. Next to being possessed by a ghost, sleeping half naked next to a thief in the middle of the woods wasn’t that weird right? Right. Perspective. “You look okay at least. You were pretty out of it last night.”

“Yeah...” Daisuke shook his head and seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth being embarrassed any longer. He stopped shielding himself and chafed hands over his forearms to warm them. Even though the space heater had been going all night, it was still far from warm in the room. Daisuke had a couple of bad looking scars, one on his upper arm, and a few across his torso. Hikaru couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten them in an accident like most people or if they were the sort of scars that could only happen to an art thief.

“Any idea what time it is?”

Daisuke plucked at a pocket and pulled out a cell phone. It didn’t seem to be in working order as he frowned at it and pushed it back in his pocket. Probably too wet. He tried a different pocket and pulled out...a pocket watch. Who the heck outside of weird hoity-toity grandpas wore pocket watches? (Okay, no, Hikaru could totally see Touya with one. While wearing that stupid lavender suit of his too, like it would complete whatever look he thought he was going for or something.) “A bit after nine.”

“Huh.” Hikaru’d expected it to be later. The convention was meeting up for brunch in an hour. He was supposed to be checking in with the other pros to confirm the day’s itinerary. “Do you think nearly dying from hypothermia and being lost in the woods is an excusable reason to not show up for work? Like. Excusable to a boss?”

“I...guess it depends on if it was an accident or not?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t plan to get lost and almost die,” Hikaru said drily. “But going for a walk was kind of my shitty idea, so I get where you’re coming from. I’m probably going to be lectured and not get paid for coming here.” He flopped backward and stared at the ceiling. “On the other hand, I’m not stuck in a room with Kida talking over my teaching games. I’m not sure if almost dying is worth the trade off.”

“...teaching games?” Daisuke ventured.

“I’m a Go professional.”

“I didn’t know you could play Go professionally.”

Hikaru tilted his head enough to send a frown in Daisuke’s direction. Somehow in the space between Hikaru looking away and looking back again, Daisuke had managed to get his shirt and pants on. Silently. The gemstone was nowhere to be seen now. “I didn’t know thieves could be body shy.”

Daisuke twitched. “Who said I was a thief?”

“I saw the ruby whatsit. The Heartsong? Something like that?” Hikaru flopped back down. Daisuke hadn’t made any aggressive moves yet. He probably wouldn’t now either. His first instinct in finding a stranger sleeping next to him was to flee; that probably extended to other first instincts too. He heard a sharp inhalation. Tension radiated through the room like warm air off the heater. Hikaru let it roll over him and ignored it. He’d felt worse staring down Ochi over a Go board. “My friend’s gonna be sad you took that. She wanted to see it at the museum. I’m not really that cool with stealing, but hey, I kind of owe you for unlocking the door and sharing body heat, so not going to mention I saw you or anything.”

Silence.

Hikaru glanced up, half expecting the room to be empty. Instead, Daisuke was giving him the weirdest frown like Hikaru was the freak in the room, not the guy who could get dressed in a second and leap across the room in half that time.

“I just slept with you half naked across my chest,” Hikaru said bluntly. “I don’t know about you, but I’d feel pretty weird about turning on someone after something like that.” He’d seen the guy vulnerable. Heck, he was still vulnerable. “Just don’t come after any of my Go boards and we’re peachy.”

Daisuke’s expression now matched Touya’s ‘What the hell kind of alien are you’ expression which was kind of funny.

“Or don’t kiss me again, I’m not into complete strangers.”

And the embarrassed flush was back. “I’m not going to kiss you again! I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously.” Hikaru smirked. “Aren’t you a little young to be spending the night with your girlfriend?” Or boyfriend, he mentally amended. Daisuke’s half asleep self hadn’t been bothered by Hikaru’s flat chest at all.

“I’m twenty!”

“Huh, you’re older than me.” He had a baby face then, because he didn’t look a day out of high school.

“Put some clothes on!” Daisuke said, throwing Hikaru’s shirt at him.

“It’s still damp.”

“Please!”

Hikaru put the shirt on, laughing internally at how Daisuke’s blush still hadn’t gone away. “Do you think there’s a search party looking for either of us?” he asked as he wiggled into damp jeans. They were unpleasantly chilled and chafed in sensitive places. He kind of wanted to strip them back off and go back to hiding in the blankets, but the world was still turning and such.

“For me? No. You?” Daisuke shrugged. “Why are you so calm about me?”

Hikaru shrugged right back. “My life is full of weird shit. This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Daisuke looked like he wanted to ask what that weirdest thing was, but he didn’t. “Where were you staying at?”

“An inn. Golden Wood or something pretentious like that. It’s someplace that wants to be a resort but is kind of failing. And too secluded to be much more than the kind of place you go to try and be away from any other people.” Hikaru shrugged again. “Not sure where it is compared to here. I had no idea where I was.” Out the window it was sunny and blindingly sparkly as if every snowflake that had settled over the night was trying to reflect as much sunlight as possible all at once. “Yesterday you couldn’t see more than a meter in front of you and now there’s not a cloud in the sky. That’s weather for you.”

“Right, weather...” Daisuke kept his distance as Hikaru folded the futon and blankets again. They weren’t nearly as neat as when he found them, but hey, maybe he could leave a note thanking the owner for having them. It’d be less annoying to find if they knew it’d saved a life, right? “I think that inn is north of here,” Daisuke said after a moment. He had boots on now, and the jacket over his clothes. He looked about as uncomfortable in the damp clothing as Hikaru felt. “I can point you in the right direction.”

“Uh huh. And I’ll probably get lost again. Nature’s not my strong suit.” It wouldn’t be hard to get a bit off and completely miss the inn and then freeze to death in broad daylight. “We could just wait for a rescue team.”

“I don’t plan to wait around for anyone,” Daisuke said.

No, he wouldn’t. Being a wanted criminal and all. “Well, you can go brave the snow if you want to. I for one have had enough brushes with hypothermia for one life. I need my fingers.”

“Right...” Daisuke scratched his head, uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot.

“If anyone asks, I broke in here on my own,” Hikaru offered.

The thief’s eyes narrowed like he didn’t really believe for a second that Hikaru would keep silent. But really, what would Hikaru say? Yeah, he’d met the thief and slept half naked with him too? Yeah, that’d be a story to tell the police. Daisuke stood out, but he was a phantom thief. He’d probably change his appearance in a heartbeat anyway.

At the heart of it, Hikaru didn’t really care. It wasn’t Go related in any way, shape, or form. Daisuke could go off into the snow and do...whatever thieves did when they weren’t stealing things. Hikaru would raid this place for food and see if he could find something dry to wear.

“I’m leaving then,” Daisuke said. He pointed out one of the windows. “North is that way if you end up trying to find the inn.”

“See ya.” Hikaru waved, leaning against the wall like he lived this sort of random happenstance every day of his life. Daisuke left the room without making a sound. Hikaru couldn’t tell when he actually left the building. Watching out the window didn’t really give him any help either. Ten minutes later Hikaru was still watching an empty stretch of pristine snow in all directions.

That was a little weird. Hikaru wasn’t going to dwell on that because there were things in the world that he didn’t really want to know about, and if ghosts were real who knew what else could be. Thieves vanishing into thin air? Probably not as impossible as it should be.

Ten minutes after that found him digging into a can of cold soup. Better than nothing.

Only fifteen minutes after he’d finished that (give or take; Hikaru didn’t have a watch or anything), a rescue team showed up. It was comprised of two police officers, a snowplow driver, and one of the old guys from the Go convention he was supposed to be at. Apparently they’d had an anonymous call. Hikaru guessed that however Daisuke had left, he’d gotten someplace safe.

As Hikaru was bundled into a car to go to the hospital—which he didn’t need; all his fingers and toes were accounted for and whole—Hikaru decided that this made the second weirdest experience of his life. Or maybe third if Sai’s existence was separate from the moment Hikaru first got possessed. Whatever. The snow plow driver had a thermos full of hot chocolate which he shared. Hot chocolate, not being dead of cold, not working with Kida, and apparently being excused for his absence at work. Hikaru thought he’d come out of the endgame with a few moku in his favor. Maybe. If he didn’t think about the whole nearly dying part. And hey, he’d met a legendary thief and lived through that too. For a town in the middle of nowhere, a heck of a lot had happened.

That said, next time they needed someone for something like this, they could find someone that wasn’t Hikaru.

AN2: According to Wikipedia “Korigatachi (凝り形) is often translated as 'over-concentrated', but more literally is 'frozen shape'. If a player uses his stones in an inefficient way, the result will be korigatachi.” Pun title that no one will actually get without the definition ^_^;

#hikaru no go #DNAngel #fanfiction #my writing #wheeee

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acaipsychelife · 7 years

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Hello Acai! I was wondering if you could detail the steps you took to understanding astrology? For example, the order in which you studied all the different aspects of astrology. I'm trying to study it at the moment and I just want to see if there are some important things that I may have overlooked especially seeing as how I've only been studying seriously for just over a year so I'm barely a novice! The world of astrology to me is so beautifully expansive, it's easy to get lost in!

Thank you for asking! If you don’t mind, this will be a long ramble about my experiences, then I’ll get to advice for you...

Honestly, the fact that I got into it at such a young age wasn’t necessarily for the better. My mother is an astrologer but she was just a beginner until the last decade or so, it was like we learned together, sort of... My mom started taking me to the Tucson Astrologers’ Guild when I was ten, at that point, I had a general idea of what each planet means, what each major aspect means, the personality of each sign... But I wasn’t mentally developed enough to understand how all that plays into life... That’s how I got to meet dozens of renowned astrologers. I could name drop but I assume nobody cares... During my pre-teen years I was just attending those TAG classes twice a month, and when I was 12 I was in this once a week group where we practiced reading birth charts... in hindsight, practicing astrology just a couple or a few times a month wasn’t enough to get proficient at it... I didn’t have a thorough understanding of how astrology affects peoples’ lives, I could only give general interpretations.

When I was 13 I was on the local news for being a young astrologer, was a load of fun at the time, but now I realize I wasn’t truly ready to step into my path back then... When I was 16 I took these once a week classes about the archetypes from a Shamanic Astrology perspective, that really gave me a feeling of timelessness, how each character is necessary in the world... Also when I was 16 I went to the BLAST conference in Sedona (in 2008), I loved it! An astrologer I dearly looked up to named Kelly Lee Phipps filmed me and I so wish I had that video... He died of a brain tumor in 2014... tearing up now...

When I was 17 I was going to be on national TV on a series about paranormal topics, but while they were filming, I gave a bunch of dead air time... and that is when I gave up on astrology, it was humiliating. I wasn’t ready for that kind of honor, I regret it, I wasn’t knowledgeable enough, I wasn’t dedicated enough.

When I was 21 I started attending TAG again, but I was such a beginner back then... I couldn’t give readings worth crap, I was preoccupied with college and the weird scenarios I had going on lol. When I was 22 I went to my first NORWAC (2014) and loved it, later that year I went to my first ISAR (where I got to vend Time Passages Software).

During 2015 I was super focused on learning nutrition, politics, and environmentalism, I wasn’t yet super dedicated to astrology... I’d listen to astrology podcasts, attended norwac again, and participated in many discussions of how peoples’ planetary placements affected their life... that’s a great way to learn, see what aspects someone has in their chart, then observe how they play out in that person’s life!

2016 I went to norwac and isar again, and I started this tumblr at the end of august! 2016 and 2017 I have been more dedicated to reading a lot... books and online...

Important things you might have overlooked:

Even though we have birth chart calculators, it’s great to become familiar with an Ephimeris, you can find one at a metaphysical bookstore. Before astrology software existed, astrologers had to draw up charts from scratch using the ephemeris. You would have had to learn the math about how to calculate the rising sign and each house and each degree. I don’t know how to do all that, just know that at sunrise, the rising sign is the same as the sun. Each rising sign lasts about two hours, but Scorpio rising lasts longer (making it the most popular rising sign) and Aquarius rising sign happens for less time (making it the rarest rising sign).

Memorize how each planet moves in its orbit. Why does Pluto spend about 14 years in Capricorn, 12 years in Scorpio, 13 years in Sagittarius, but shorter times in other signs? Because Pluto has an elliptical orbit.

Sometimes Mars appears to be moving faster than Venus, even though Venus obviously has a shorter orbit around the sun, Mars is erratic and bumpy in it’s orbit, so sometimes it goes forward thru degrees faster than Venus. Isn’t that fascinating?! Of course Venus usually moves faster than Mars.

Memorize how long it takes each planet to orbit the sun. Neptune takes 165 years, so when you’re 81-83, you have a Neptune opposition because Neptune has completed 50% of its orbit. At age 40-41, Neptune has completed 25% of its orbit, which means it made a square.

Every three years Jupiter moves 90 degrees in its orbit. Every four years Jupiter moves 120 degrees. By memorizing how planets move, you can quickly guess someone’s Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto signs just by knowing the year they were born, and you can also estimate what transits they’re having now, or a year from now, without being dependent on a computer!

This is a common problem that aspiring astrologers have. Since our generation has it easier; we no longer have to draw up charts from scratch thanks to computers, it has caused people to become lazy in understanding the mechanics behind a chart. If you want to be an astrologer, if you want pro astrologers to take you seriously, you have to be mature about being able to figure out the aspects and aspect patterns for yourself. If you rely on computers to tell you that someone has Jupiter trine Mars or whatever, then you do not have a genuine understanding of astrology.

Memorize the ages that people experience planetary cycles, this way, you can easily start an impressive conversation with somebody by saying, “Oh you’re 42 years old, that means that transiting Uranus is opposite your natal Uranus, which means ___, and you’ve recently gone thru transiting Neptune being square your natal Neptune, which means __”

“Oh you’re 21 years old, that means that transiting Saturn is square your natal Saturn for the second time, and transiting Uranus is square your natal Uranus for the first time, this means __”

The major aspects, the houses, and the planets are just the fundamentals. Once you grasp those, then you can move up to specialty topics. You don’t have to learn the minor aspects if you don’t want to. I know famous pro astrologers who only use the major aspects, including Philip Sedgwick and Steven Forrest.

Another piece of advice, if you dabble in a dozen different methods (horary, medical astrology, financial astrology, mundane astrology, midpoints, astro*carto*graphy, electional astrology, symbolic degrees, teleological, cosmobiology, relationships, psychological, declinations, TNO’s, asteroids, harmonics, decans, uranian astrology, hellenistic, evolutionary/karmic, among a bunch of other branches...), you’re only going to be mediocre in all of them. Find your specialty and hone it! I dabble in a few of those, but right now my specialties are progressions, sabian symbols, and general predictions. You definitely don’t need to study all those items in that parenthesis, but at least know what each of those terms means. If you ever attend an astrologers’ conference, people will introduce themselves like, “I’m a Hellenistic astrologer” or “I use declinations to find contra-parallels”, if you don’t know what they’re talking about, you won’t be taken seriously in the community.

Yes I love how you said astrology is so beautifully expansive and easy to get lost in! I will never know everything there is to know! It would take a lifetime to learn all those things I listed.

I totally understand that learning all this stuff feels overwhelming when you’ve only been into astrology for a few years or less. Take your time learning and really absorbing the information before you start giving readings; learn from my mistakes, I had no business giving casual readings to my friends when I was 21-22, I was still a beginner.

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skrub-ttrpg · 8 years

Text

The Aspects as in Skrub

here is the complete explanation of what Homestuck’s Aspects mean in the tabletop Game Skrub, ripped straight from the rulebook. if these seem interesting to you, and youve ever felt the desrie to play through Sburb with your friends, come check this game out!

7.2.2 The Aspects

Painting metaphors have been used before, so I will continue with that. Aspects are the media of the painting, and each aspect is like a different color (as compared to the Classes which are like different painting techniques).

But truthfully, that's an oversimplification. The Aspects are a metaphysical system, in of themselves they are Abstract concepts. This means they are the fundamental structure of the universe, and that they are not directly physical. You can not simply walk about and find ‘Breath’, you can only find things that represent Breath. More specifically, aspects are the Metaphysics of a Story. They are the sum of the fundamental concepts that make up a story. Each of the aspects opposes another, which means their purposes compare and contrast each other.

But how do abstract concepts make a story?

Through the use of Symbols. [Rose’s apple speech that symbols hold all the power]. A symbol is something that represents something else, it’s meaning manifest. Symbols can be as simple as a physical object like a pumpkin, and action like a kiss, an emotion like anger, a game mechanic like ~ath, or more complex things I call themes, like Love. A Symbol is the means to the Aspect’s end. But, interestingly enough, since they are only a means to an end that is perceived and thus subjective, a Symbol in its performance may produce multiple ends, it might unintentionally represent many aspects. This is why most people have such a hard time differentiating the aspects in the story, because they are looking at things that are being used multiple ways. It is better to look at aspects in what they are trying to accomplish rather than what they are.

This guide is organized like this;

The binary between the next two aspects

The Number; I have associated on a d12, the Aspect itself and its Trait

The Meta; what the aspect at its metaphysical core

Themes: complex concepts that don’t have specific mechanics to express them, and exist in general in the story, but still are used to support the aspects

Interaction: direct actions of the aspects, often what has to be done in order for the powers to take place

Objects: what physical objects are direct symbols

Strife Component: the in-combat representation

Status: what Emotions support them

Ultimate: the ultimate status of each aspect, and the greatest physical symbol in the Medium

Talents: talents that can be used to support the aspects

Space & Time, the basic building blocks of a story. [Screenshots of Calliope explaining space like the pages of a book, time is the turning of them]

12, Space, Imagination

Meta: the Setting.

Space is where everything takes place. The here, the there, and what's there. Its the set of the play, the buildings and props and the colors painted on everything. Anywhere that is Anywhere is Space (if you're nowhere, its void)

Themes: Creation, art, possibility, beginnings, Location. Space without time is the beginning of everything, its looking at the stage and all the props before the start of the show, nothing has had time to do anything yet, it is the setup, infinite potential of all the thing that could happen to it before whatever does happen happens. Pure space without time is simple being without action, change, cause or effect.

Interaction: moving from place to place, touch, setpeice movements.

Objects: art supplies, any physical location, plants

Strife Component: the Chess board that represents where everything is

Status: Weird, Lonely, creative

Ultimate: Noblebright, (space is omnipresent, but either Skaia or Bilious Slick could work)

Talents: Art, Dream, Science, Cartography, Fashion

1 Time, Pulchritude

Meta: the Plot

Or more specifically just the chronology of the plot, the fact that event occur one after another, and that they continue to keep occuring. Not why they occur, or the specifics of what occurs, or how they relate, just that they do.

Themes: storytelling, Destruction, music, eventuality, endings, progression. There is a later section called Timelines (itll be at the end of the pdf, cause its a mess) that explains the horribly convoluted hell that is Timetravel in this game.

Interaction: letting time go by, playing music

Objects:instruments, clocks, metronomes

Strife Component: timing in combat, turn order, Actions

Status: aloof, entropic,

Ultimate: Grimdark

Talents: rhythm, fashion, nonchalance, dance, roast

Breath & Blood, [ i dont know how to describe the relationship between Direction and Investment]

9 Breath Adroitness

Meta: Story Direction

Breath is the why to Times when. Breath is moving to what's next, where you are going, what you are doing. New, unexpected events that are introduced that push the story towards a conclusion.

Themes: the mail, flying, goals, motivation, freedom, being let loose, not tied down, New Things

Interaction: anything touching the air or wind, moving around, breathing

Strife Component: Movement, Initiative, Absconding Strife

Status: flighty, confident

Ultimate: [free? Off the Railroad], The White Queen

Talents: ride, prank, rant, nonchalance, cartography, lift

4 Blood Vim

Meta: Investment

Do you give a shit about what's happening? Blood is if and how much you care about the story and characters. Your connection to it, your bond.

Themes: Relationships, Drama, Intensity, Family, Duty, Class Structure

Interaction: contact/ submersion in a liquid, especially with blood, bleeding, grappling and holding on

Objects: blood and other liquids, Rings,

Strife Component: Teams and Leaders, Being stuck in Strife

Status: <>,<3,<3<, c3<, angry, burdened

Ultimate: Stuck. The Black Queen.

Talents: Grip, Ship, Rant,

Light & Void; Relevance

8 Light, Sagacity

Meta: Importance

Even though there a literally trillions of bits of information streaming at you at every second, you only focus on a few sparse details. This concept is utilized very visually in stage shows, you can hardly look at everything on the stage, instead, our eyes tend to be led by a tool, the spotlight. This is the role of Light, it's the way the story signifies what is important, be it objects, locations, actions, or even the players themselves.

Themes: Luck. Fortune. Agency, Sobriety. Knowledge. Attention.

Interaction: anything illuminated, in the light of some object, but especially in the light of Skaia

Strife Component: Focus, Crit Success, revealed areas

Status: Lucky(unlucky), conscious, illuminated, Smug

Ultimate: Enlightenment. Skaia.

Talents: Snark, Judgement, Wiles, Gumshoery

5 Void, Adroitness

Meta: Unimportance

If light is what is under the spotlight on a stage, then Void is what is everywhere else. Void is where you aren't supposed to look, it allows the stage crew to move around the set, because if you can't see (or hear or perceive the event in some way) it's like it doesn't even happen. But thus goes deeper than just light and shadows, it's about attention. The street magician doesn't use magic, he keeps your attention one place, and in the void that creates he performs his magic and switches the cards around.

Themes:

Objects:

Interaction: any space where light is dim or nonexistent, especially in direct shadows

Strife Component: negative Focus, Critical Failure, Non Action, hidden areas

Status: Shy, unconscious, (lack of a status afflictment)

Ultimate: Nirvana. The Noble Circle of Horrorterrors.

Talents: Creep, Ride, Prank, Nonchalance, Lie

Hope & Rage; the suspension of disbelief

11 Hope, Pluck

Meta: Suspension of Disbelief

Hope is accepting something as believable. It is saying yes, this fits, this is explainable and justifiable in the setting and tone it is present in. Hope never needs to provide an explanation why, the answer is that when you believe in magic, anything is possible!

Themes: Belief in Magic, Romantic Crushes, Imagination, Shonen Heroism, Idealised Sexuality/bodies

Interaction: in dreams

Objects: globes, white stuff, phallic symbols

Strife Component: Dealing Damage, amount and note

Status: Hopeful, ( <3 and <3< but only when they are unrequited)

Ultimate: Magical. The White King.

Talents: Pester, Dream, Ship

2 Rage Vim

Meta: Contrivance

Breaking the suspension of disbelief. Rage is the realization that no, it doesn't fit, there is no believable explanation. It is complete and utter bullshit. Things that simply do not work, that are utterly impossible and unforgivable. And Rage is the reaction against this, screaming out that something is unacceptable, or reveling in the fact that it doesn't have to work, that its simply absurd and there is no changing that.

Themes: Disillusionment, Absurdity, Reality, Real human sex/bodies

Interaction: in nightmares, when things are in pain

Objects: clowns, game Glitches,

Strife Component: Deafness Resonance, Taking Damage, Response Actions

Status: Angry(calm), Afraid, Entropic

Ultimate: Berserk. The Black King

Talents: Rant, Lift, Lie, Science, Hack

Life & Doom; Tone

10 Life Pulchritude

Meta: Light Tone

Life is about having fun! Doing silly things, remembering to laugh, doing things that excite you, not always following the silly rules we make for ourselves. Rewarding yourself to a slice of pie, the sweetest pie called life.

Themes: Fun, Enjoyment. Endulgence. Growth. Power and the will to obtain it. The power to not have worry about the rules, to laugh without fear of retaliation, the power to afford sugar. The kind of power a monarch feels as they stare down upon the ants that are their subjects. The power to enforce their will upon the world.

Imagine an eagle as it swoops down to pull trout from its watery home. Imagine the strength it must feel, the rush of excitement as it swoops down from the sky, the power it feels knowing no other birds can compete, and the satisfaction it feels with the fish meat in its stomach. That is raw, unadulterated Life.

Objects: Organic structures, food, eating utensils

Interaction: consuming something, making a Joke

Strife Component: Vigor, Refill, Vitality Gel

Status: Sweet, Sour, Excited

Ultimate: Trickster. Prospit

Talents: Roast, Wiles, Fashion, Prank,

3 Doom, Sagacity

Meta: Heavy tone

Doom is Serious business, quite literally. It is the gravity of the situation, the weight that says right now is really not the time to be making a joke.

Themes: Rules. Law and Order. Structure. Should and shouldn't or Morality. Karma. Limitations. Sacrifice. Punishments. If Life is splurging and eating the entire ice-cream cake, then Doom is eating nothing but unsweetened, bland food for a diet.

When Life is the predator, Doom is the prey.

Interaction: Dying. Following the rules. Suffering from an Ailment

Objects: Dead things,

Strife Component:Despair, Decay, Ailments, ~ath,

Status: Bitter, Salty, Afraid, Paranoid, Ailments

Ultimate: Doomed. Derse.

Talents: Snark, Gumshoery, Hack, Judgement, Grip

Mind & Heart; the Self

7 Mind, Imagination

Meta: Choices.

What the player gets to decide for themselves.

Themes: Free Will, Pure rational Insight, Politics

Interaction: words, ideas, and concepts read or heard, anything that causes a thought

Objects: clothing, Coins, Synapses, Hats

Strife Component: Strife Techniques

Status: Confused, Pretending(Mind cheats by making any feeling a Mind status, but only if the player is pretending to feel it)

Ultimate: Fake. Denizens.

Talents: Lie, Cartography, Dance, nonchalance, Judgement

6 Heart Pluck

Meta: The person playing the game

Heart is the Ultimate Self, which is literally the person playing the game. Heart represents thing’s character, what they are regardless of choice. The character traits that make up “you”. The things that you were born with.

Themes: Capabilities/Talent, Preferences/Taste, true Love, True Friendship, Desire, Intuition

Interaction: touching, especially a kiss, direct eye contact

Objects: Shoes, player symbols and color, Hats

Strife Component: the players inherent stats, Talents, Weapon Quirks

Status: (heart cheats as well by making any feeling a heart status, but only if the player is honestly feeling it), <>,<3,<3<, c3<

Ultimate: Real. Denizens.

Talents: Pester, Ship, Lie, Dance, Dream

#Aspects #homestuck #homestuck rpg

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lanasitra · 7 years

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tswtms is over (and here’s why)

Did I get you with the clickbait title? I did? Damn right. Bangarang.

In short, I made a mistake.

I goofed.

I made a miscalculation.

I did not make a good prediction.

I anticipated something that did not happen.

I made an error in judgment.

I screwed the pooch.

I shamed the cat.

I faked my death but returned just after the halizah was carried out and now it’s super awkward between me, my ex-wife and my brother.

I fucked up.

(This essay will sometimes sound high-and-mighty, sometimes accusatory, sometimes selfish, and sometimes all-business-no-pleasure. In previous essays, I’ve detailed that my passion for music is not driven by money or fame, BUT I have also argued that I can want those things without undercutting my true passion. For that reason, I will not apologize, but I will acknowledge in advance that I may come off as slightly salty and overly businesslike over the next few paragraphs)

For all intent and purpose, tswtms has proven to be a failure. Since Honeymoon became available on major digital platforms in July 2016, I’ve only sold two copies (I’m just now seeing that I got 226 streams on Spotify, etc., which I am pleasantly surprised by and grateful for, but, in the scheme of things, that’s nothing – and only equates to 97 cents in my pocket, might I add). While it hasn’t been long enough for me to get a sales report back for In Between, I have a feeling it will have done marginally better, but still won’t be the kind of break I’m looking for.

There are three potential reasons why I believe tswtms has had a sub-par performance, and I’d like to go through all of them here and now (there is purpose to this, and I imagine the smartest of you cookies will have probably already guessed what it is):

- The music is bad

- The advertising is bad

- The name is bad

(The Music)

I will concede that tswtms is not everyone’s cup of tea. I am exceptionally proud of every piece I’ve written, but, of the ones I currently have on offer: “Canadian Summer” is six minutes long and meanders during the intro and outro, “Honeymoon” lacks a chorus, “Hate” lacks a chorus, “The North Wood” lacks a chorus, “I Am Not Afraid” lacks a chorus, “SRND” has a meandering intro and lacks a chorus, and all my interludes, intros and outros are “weird” and “artsy” in some way or another. In brief, I have tended so far to not write “accessible” pop songs. “Dreams,” “What’s It Like” and “For You” are what I consider to be my three most accessible, “poppy” songs that are currently available (there’s also “Heavy Crush,” available on my SoundCloud, which I rank among the most “accessible,” but it currently only exists in a place that is not really on anyone’s radar). Having my oeuvre be only ~16% accessible, singalong-able music is perhaps a worry, but, considering how many times someone ensures themselves a comfortable life and diehard audience as a one- or two-hit wonder, I’m not really concerned in that regard.

Such talk of “accessibility,” musical forms and choruses drives me nuts. I enjoy the music I make, and I think that serves as a good enough indication that other people would like it if given the right listening context. Though I go through peaks and valleys of enjoyment with my catalogue, I go through similar phases with any music, regardless of the writer or performer (even Ariana Grande! F***ing crazy, right?). I sometimes get hung up and blame my every failure on the vocal tuning in my pieces, but I realize that I’m only so critical because it’s my own stuff; I listen to other artists’ songs that have some vocal imperfections, and these imperfections rarely diminish my enjoyment of a piece. I like to think that an imperfection here or there on my part will fly similarly under the radar for audience members.

All this has been to say that the music is not the problem. I write a variety of things that appeal to me, and I believe that, while it won’t all appeal to everyone all the time, there is, indeed, something for everyone with tswtms.

(The Advertising)

With In Between, I attempted to do some online promotion leading up to the album’s release. I feel the campaign (if you can even call it that, given its size) did well to get the word out in my close circles. On release day, I got critique back from people I had never even dreamed would be listening. On top of that, I am very proud of the visual media I created.

However, after observing my local contemporaries, I’m aware of better ways to advertise my music, including buying plays (which, at the time of writing, I think is a pretty slimy thing to do, but I can understand why it would be a necessary evil). I have friends who boast about how many Spotify plays they have, but, when comparing their day-to-day / week-to-week growth on Spotify vs Youtube vs Facebook vs Soundcloud, I can plainly see that they are buying listens. It’s pedantic and petty of me to go about comparing all this data, and I will admit this little search was initially born out of bitterness concerning my contemporaries’ seemingly inexplicable, magnificent successes. I have learned, though, that buying plays is just another way to make your product seem enticing. I hate to imagine that a prospective audience member or booking agent would think differently of my music or my project because it wasn’t “popular,” but I guess that must be the case if buying listens is actually proven to help a startup artist. For the sake of my integrity and transparency (which I like to think I hold above all else), I will make it public knowledge if I ever buy views, listens, followers, etc., and I will include where I got them, the number I bought, and for how much money.

If we’re thinking about an album as a product, let’s think about live performances as advertising that product (though, ideally, I would like to be at a spot where the album is being pirated and people are just paying to come to the shows, but that’s not how it is for me just yet). I haven’t performed live in about a year, and I believe I have a good reason for this: in my opinion, I don’t have a satisfactory live set worth paying any amount of cover charge or ticket price for. As a precursor to the next section, I’ll also point out that, with a name like tswtms or The Sunlit Woods, the Moonlit Sea, open mics are a bit of a difficult beast to grapple with, as it’s likely that people in attendance are just interested enough to go looking for you online, but not interested enough to ask you for your name if they don’t catch it during your performance (as you might expect, people do not catch my name during performances). In short, I don’t believe the returns would yet justify the work required to put on a live show.

Again, all this is to say that I don’t think advertising is the problem. I recognize that I could advertise better, but I don’t even think that’s a relevant conversation yet. My Soundcloud only has 51 followers after having it since high school, and the tswtms Facebook page only has 57 likes after 4 years. For comparison, my friends just started a Facebook page for their new Harry Potter podcast, Flipendo, and amassed more than 100 likes in less than 24 hours (yes, both pages invited people, but I will concede that Flipendo has the benefit of pooling three admins’ social circles). I was in a f***ing high school rock band that DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, and we were still sittin’ pretty above 300 likes when we deleted the page (pour one out for My Autumn Distraction, y’all). Before I even consider buying more ad space or any listens, I need a project that can organically grow in a satisfactory manner.

(BONUS POTENTIAL REASON: People hate me because I was a piece of shit in high school / early university who was annoying on social media and not a very good musician, and these people are deliberately ignoring and avoiding everything I do)

Maybe? Probably a little bit. This is a real insecurity of mine, but I think any effect this deliberate ignorance may be having is inconsequential.

(The Name Is S***)

Surprise, y’all.

It’s the name.

Of course it’s the name.

It was never not the name.

I’m finally changing the name.

No matter which way you say it – The Sunlit Woods, the Moonlit Sea, tswtms (tee ess doube-u tee em ess), tuhswuhtuhmuss –, the name does not roll off the tongue, nor does it stick in the mind. I wanted to take a few moments, though, to explain why I’ve stubbornly gone along with this dumpster fire of a name for four years and two albums:

There are already George Deans making music. George Dean and the Gospel Four. George Dean from the UK (We’rebothfromtheUKbutwhateverweallknowbynowthatIhaveaUSpassportandwishIwasCanadian).

I wanted a name that captured a dichotomy. For the better part of two hours, I brainstormed names that would capture the geographic dichotomy I see in Vancouver. We have mountains and lush forests, but we also have the sea. We can go on brightly lit, magnificent hikes during the day, but stare up at the stars as their lights dance across the waters of the Georgia Strait. For anyone who has listened to my piece “Tarot,” you know that there’s a metaphysical dichotomy that can be gleaned from this as well. As it happens, it proved quite hard to capture that imagery in anything less than “The Sunlit Woods, the Moonlit Sea.”

I wanted to take myself out of it. You’ll notice I tend not to post any performance photos on social media, and that my physical appearance is not part of any tswtms promotion. Other than in the music videos I’m planning, I want to remain ethereal and mysterious; I don’t want to be George Dean, but a purer distillation of my mind. I hate that One Direction’s and similar artists’ successes are so inextricably linked to the audience’s physical attraction to the performing artists, and I want so badly to be an artist that minimizes that as much as possible (short of wearing a mask to perform). Maybe, one day, if I’m ripped af – not if I keep living the way I am, I’ll tell ya! – and Vogue wants to do a shoot with me, I’ll bare all for the world, but I need that s*** to not be the reason I’m selling albums or concert tickets; the music comes first and foremost, and I will fiercely argue against the modern assumption that image is as important as the art itself.

I wanted to leave room for a band. Even on my FIRST album, I already had help from my friends: Janine on trombone, Jaelem on drums, Sean on lead guitar, and Are Been on piano. This continues on In Between, where Sean’s playing guitar on “For You.” This project clearly isn’t just George Dean, and it would be a disservice to my fellow musicians and artists if I called it George Dean. Sure, I write the music and lyrics, and I make almost all creative decisions, but, whenever another musician gets involved, they’re going to give their two cents and reshape a piece (no matter how minutely). Furthermore, I’m rarely going to give a solo performance of most of these songs, because they deserve to be played by a full band. I don’t want to go on stage with my friends and essentially say “Hey! I’m the guy you all came for and these five dunces can all f*** off!” Consequently, I have struggled with choosing any derivative of “George Dean and the ________” because, in my head, it may as well be the same thing in terms of dictating superiority. In live performance, I don’t want the audience to see me in front of a backing band – I want the audience to see tswtms.

SBTRKT, Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance all exist. All three of these projects exist and have achieved a level of success that I’d be happy with. Despite it being pronounced “Subrtract,” I definitely had an acquaintance in high school who liked SBTRKT enough to go to their concert, but still called them “ess bee tee are kay tee.” Long names clearly work for some people, but I suppose mine was just too out there (and I am aware that Odd Future’s name has been organically shortened over time by the audience and the artists, and I was hoping that would happen eventually for tswtms).

I arrogantly wanted to create a barrier to entry concerning intelligence. In my mind, neither The Sunlit Woods, the Moonlit Sea nor tswtms are hard to remember, and I have always assumed that this feat of memory was a mark of intelligence. I realize now that the names aren’t hard to remember for anyone else either; it’s just that other people have other s*** going on that’s filling their heads, and I should be respectful of that. tswtms has been the primary thing on my mind for four years now, so no s*** I’d be well acquainted with the names. Even as I type this, I’m supposed to be working on projects for other people, but there’s so much on my mind that the minutia (or what I consider to be the minutia) is falling out. It would be hypocritical of me to expect someone to memorize cumbersome sets of words or letters that aren’t of the utmost importance to them if I’m not willing to do the same. Furthermore, I shouldn’t get salty about people choosing not to fill their mental hard drives with such nonsense.

Something I’ve often thought in the past – especially when I’m feeling bitter – is that, if someone couldn’t remember the name or wasn’t willing to put in a little bit of legwork to memorize it, then I wouldn’t want them listening to my music anyway. That’s a really arrogant, elitist, hurtful, b***s*** and insensitive way of thinking, and I apologize that I ever felt that way. As my buddy Sean Dales said to me, “You don’t choose your audience, your audience chooses you.”

I thought I was centuries ahead of the curve with the name tswtms. It’s arrogant to say, but I do actually believe this still. For the most part, you’ve got artists going by their actual names, but, when that’s not available, people are using whatever’s left to allow them to stand out against the incessant din of the modern world. Broadly speaking, you have artists throwing darts at walls, you have snappy mononyms, you have some variation on “X and the Y,” you’ve got “The ______,” you definitely have “______ the ______,” and NOW, with the rise of Chvrches, you’ve got people taking a snappy mononym and replacing letters with other letters. If this trend continues (and I’m sure it will as the digitally available library of art grows and grows with – hopefully – very little of it ever being deleted), I think it’s within reason to predict that, in 200 years’ time, people will be listening to popular bands whose names are just random assortments of letters. For the time being, though, I don’t think society is ready for this jelly.

The iconography is gorgeous. The thing that really sold me on going with the acronym tswtms as opposed to The Sunlit Woods, the Moonlit Sea (other than Soundcloud not allowing a name that long -.-) was the iconography I developed. In fact, the iconography for tswtms is impacting what the new name will be, because I want to keep the new iconography as similar to the old as possible.

I maintained a monopoly on search results. Google “George Dean” and tell me how many results pertain to me (you can get closer by searching “George TB Dean,” but NOT CLOSE ENOUGH). Google “Sean Dales” and tell me how many are related to either his music or his blog. Do the same with Kyle Cardigan. Now google “tswtms,” and you can bet your neck, back, p**** and crack that every result on the first page has something to do with me.

Banga-f***ing-rang.

It’s a little thing, but it was nice knowing that I wasn’t competing with anyone else.

I think that’s it for why I chose and stuck with tswtms. I felt that, if I pushed it for long enough, the music would persevere and people would come around to understanding and accepting the name. An anecdote that I believe accurately suggests how badly the name has failed is this: when explaining to a co-worker that I had “come up with a bad band name,” I opted to write down “tswtms” and “The Sunlit Woods, the Moonlit Sea” on a piece of paper and show it to them rather than just say the names, because I have not once said either name out loud and had it be understood without eventually writing it down.

I believe I’ve found a name that is more manageable, yet still allows me to remove my physical self, retain some air of mystery and avoid direct competition with similarly titled projects. Maybe I’ll use this name; maybe I’ll change my mind within minutes of posting this essay to Tumblr. Only time will tell. Anyway, I’ll soon be pulling the tswtms stuff off of iTunes and Spotify in order to re-upload it all under a new name, so, if you want that OG kush, get it while you can. The Tumblr, Facebook, Soundcloud and (hopefully) YouTube page will all just be swapped over to the new name when the time comes, but I’ll be sure to update you all with the social media links when they’re ready.

Namaste

t s w t m s

[2016-05-16 Edit: As of right now, the tswtms catalogue is no longer available on iTunes or Spotify]

#tswtms #The Sunlit Woods the Moonlit Sea

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my3amletterstoher · 6 years

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Melts, all love, I love that 😩😍🤤🖤🖤 I wanna hold you in my arms and never let go 😭I love you/am in love with you and every aspect of you , and you know I’ve said it multiple times (without you bringing it up)

Lemme see your face babyyy 😍🤤🐱💦, I’m about to get in the showerrr

Lunchtime selfiessss I’ve been asking for daysssss 😩

Finally about to get in the shower

And you are all that stuff to me I said earlier too deeply btw ppl are probably just mad cause you are🤷🏾‍♀️ . you’re everything to me & vice versa. Our relationship is everything and transcends every dimension. Our love is on fire, our romance is on fire, our sex/sexual energy is on fire, our energy in general is on fire, our souls are on fire...etc

Lemme see your face baby, lemme see your lips 😍🤤deep breathing in and out ,🐱💦💦💦,🐱💦💦💦💦, caressing your back, deep breathing in and out ,🐱💦💦💦,🐱💦💦💦💦strokes your hair and stares into your beautiful eyes 😍🤤🐱💦hazel eyes, almond shaped, poppin lashes 😍getting out the shower, getting dressed , I feel like going to a metaphysical store today.. wanna? I mean in 3d/this realm lol not in another realm/dimension

Might go tomorrow though , it’s raining right now

holding you in my arms , rocking you from side to side , lemme see your face baby, lemme see your body, lemme see those lashes 😍🤤🐱💦you’re so precious baby, holds you in my arms 🤗

You’re the greatest! 😩😭😍🤤🖤 loyal af , always holding me down, beautiful (inside and out) and sexy/seductive , talented/creative (in a plethora of ways) , always knows what to say/do to make me smile, happy, feel loved/needed, turn me on, the reason for everything I say/do, the reason why I will myself to wake up everyday 😩🖤🖤, I love what we are and how we can feel each other deeply, as I said the other day I feel lost when I can’t, like a piece of me is missing

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Keep it coming babyyy , what’s on your mind baby ?(more), lemme see your face baby, we need direct contact (text) ASAP , lemme see your lips baby, lemme see you wine, why you delete your other picture ? It was perfect and special

Lemme wait to say something for a sec

Everything you post is

See now it’s hard to project to you, I’m not playing that bullshit

And you ignoring me now, you see this bullshit ?!??? Ppl try to clog our REAL connection , see this bitch is right there , on here right now.. our energy is being transferred back and forth and she’s trying to infest it and manipulate it , that bitch is comes running to the blog sometimes before you do just to take some energy, just to manipulated see what she can twist or come out of nowhere and say , she’s a parasite, a leech , she’s STILL reading it and posting shit , why she post that picture? Because she’s petty and trying to distract you , trying to always make shit seem like something that it isn’t , she’s desperate af , I was talking about feeling you and holding you and she’s going to post that? Why would she feel mad or offended by anything I say? If we have everything and plan to have everything why is she over there posting them shit like that? When what you said, what you do..etc is directed towards me? You see how manipulative that bitch is? Check this out:

I said I was going to check and yes , you see the depths of her manipulation? “We are connected to each other” ppl are psychos.

Ppl are PSYCHOS it’s just like that dude that was reading this blog and was copying off of things I said and tried to confuse you and stuff. This shit is weird af in a bad way , even trying to act like me.. if someone was real they wouldn’t have to ACT like anything , you KNOW ppl weren’t acting like how they’re acting now , and they pop up with shit after you or I say something that’s NOT real, that’s not a real connection, like I said ppl are trying to be more important to you than they are , you ran to me even when that bitch was/is around and that’s when that bitch started to act like shit that she isn’t and tried to start fights between us , snoop on your accounts..etc trying to twist things I say to have you doubting me, feeling insecure about me ..etc when I already have a deep place in your heart and at times you have fears and stuff because you never felt this way about someone before (and I feel the same about you). One of the very things that I try to protect you from, ppl use this blog (along with what they see and hear, reading yours messages..etc ) to do and it’s sad and pathetic and the fact that ppl will try to use any and be in your life to try to manipulate you that speaks volumes to the kind of person they are (that’s not a person that cares or anything like that), playing on your emotions and stuff , confusing you, causing fights, infesting and polluting your life, trying to have you go against me, look at the many times you have felt insecure, mad, or something in regards to me (most of the times it was because of something she caused) and she used to manipulate you have you do something to hurt me in areas that she doesn’t have no place in

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Lemme see your face baby , lemme see your lips, lemme see your body , strike a pose for me baby 😍🤤🐱💦 emote to me baby, more love songs 🖤🖤

https://soundcloud.com/sabrina-claudio/belong-to-you < in response to the other song you posted 😍🖤🖤 I be-long to you 🖤

https://soundcloud.com/ritagal73/jesse-powell-you 🖤🖤

You weren’t this morning , and it’s not on your mind to do so , it’s all about me and it’s all about you , it doesn’t matter what is brought up.. that’s not an excuse for ppl to intrude and stuff , it’s still our time, all the time is, it’s still our world, it’s always our world and it’s always all about you 🖤🖤

Is that why you deleted the picture earlier ? Because of how I responded to the song you posted? (The love song), I should have responded how I just did with the song I posted in response and a few other words that I hope you thought was sweet because what you posted was sweet , and yes I want your heart (I’m reading from the lyrics).. (actually I know I have your heart) and I never want you to take it back, I want it for eternity, you have mine for eternity😭🖤🖤 and I love you morning , noon, all seasons 🖤🖤(& in every dimension baby)

Dang the media posting limit has been hit againnnn 😭

Holds you in my arms 🤗keep it coming baby, lemme see your face, lemme see your body, lemme see your lips , I need moreeeee/wanna see you moreee 😩you sexy, you beautiful , you’re a God

New moonnnnn ahhhh it’s in Taurus there are 3 planets in Taurus right now , sun, moon, and mercury

Keep it coming babyyy “this could be us but you playing wyaaa” reach out to me baby *continue , all the time, anytime, anything & everything, you already know, 🖤

Can we text plz? You posted that texting post for me so let’s text , keep it coming baby, strokes your hair and holds you, what’s on your mind baby? Sings “time”

Continue making it hot for me baby, strip for me, send me nudes and selfies through the day baby 😍🐱🖤💦🤤 send me *nudes throughout the day 😍🤤🐱💦and other seductive pictures (like what you post for me) 😍🤤🐱💦and more explicit pictures and videos 😍🐱🤤💦and talk that talk to me 😍🤤🐱💦, all of your forbidden thoughts emote them to me /channel them 😍🤤🐱💦as I channel mine as well as we submerge in each other 😍😍🤤🐱💦Passion we allow to take over us , give me seductive pictures and videos to wake up , I love that 😍🤤🐱💦 < mood

Wyaaaa.. , reach out to me baby, I’m right here

https://youtu.be/0E1xYcXsGp0

Text me babyyyy, come sit that ass on me, love you relentlessly , kissing you endlessly from every inch of your body

An article about energy poisoning/contamination popped up and I was like mannnn that’s what’s happening with you & I that was weird that it popped up 🤷🏾‍♀️ (and DONT let no one bring up anything in regards to ANYTHING) but enough of all that wyaaaa , you should be asking where I’m at .. I love when we both ask 😍🤤 tomorrow I’m going to the storeeee getting some stuffffff it’s gonna be great baby , you’re so beautifulllll , wyaaaaa babyyyyyy, 🖤, holding you down , keep it coming baby.. clock is tickinggg, time is going 😔

Text me babyyyy , about to sit with your soul, wyaaaa, text me, FaceTime me , why aren’t you posting for me *continuing to , and what’s your face, body, and stuff wyaaaa,

Ughh smh what’s up with you that you can’t send me pictures and videos throughout the day? How you just gon go M.I.A? 😢Time is wasting /going .. you should be reaching out to me , interacting with me

*Mmm I wanna see your face, I want to see your body, reach out to me.. come to me for everything , cause that’s what you supposed to do , that’s what’s in your heart to do..etc don’t let ppl play mind games on you and shit , all that shit is mind games, you have some pretty fucked yo ass ppl in your life/you attract some fucked up ppl in life , I guess it’s because of who you are or it might be some lessons you have to learn 🤷🏾‍♀️but it seems like even before I came into your life that almost all the ppl in your life can’t be trusted /are manipulative/..etc is that true? My life has been like that too I told you a little bit about it before and about some /mostly all the ppl in it

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Side note: I really wish you would post your number or iCloud ASAP , I wanna see you 😭, I said that I wanted to see you throughout the day, selfies, seductive pictures , nudes , interacting with me all the time , I love the picture you posted for me yesterday and you know and could feel I loved/love it , and I wish you could of posted more AND text me , but yo I was so happy to see you finally after what it seemed like foreverrrrrr 😩, and everything was perfect, and this morning it’s like the mood carried over , it was beautiful 😍🤤 I love it and I love you , it really do be feeling like it’s only you & I in the world 😍🤤🐱💦and is that shirt new? I love when/that you model things for me , you be killing the looks 😭🖤🖤 like.. you just gather up everything I love and just be like ta-daaaaa 😩😭😍🤤🐱💦, anything you wanna see me in? Any specific color you like to see me in? Or would want to see me in? Cause I wanna buy some things with you in mind, I also want your address so that I can send you stuff , i appreciate you so much 😍🤗🖤🖤keep it coming babyyyy , your eyes, your face, your lips, your lashes, your breasts, your poses, I gotta start writing in another post cause I gotta scrolllllll down so much lol and then I’m accidentally posting in previous post

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