#yes this is a good 200th note on this post

[glindaupland]

The Phantom of the Opera | Seoul, South Korea | October 8-14th, 2023 [REVIEWS]

Wow it's about time I posted these reviews that I kept lying about (this week! tomorrow! in 10 years!) Better late than never?

In this post I'll drop a few general things about the production, but the performances are analyzed in my reviews linked here. I recommend reading those all in order since I revisit points about actors I've made previously along the way to avoid repeating myself. Also leaving a disclaimer that these performances are from October so there are some changes in what the actors are doing now (with the exception of Jeon Dong-seok since he left in November) Apologies in advance for my wordiness, but this is more of a "release my feelings for my sake and if anyone else likes it that's cool too" kind of thing? Listen - I wrote a lot of notes on my performances there. So just go in knowing this is the more coherent version of my insane looking notes app!

Before I start I want to thank a few lovely friends who helped me out with this trip because it wouldn't have gone as well as it did without them!

Thank you to @lucygold95 for helping me so much with planning over the past months and for giving me the best time in Busan. Thank you @capitanogiorgio for all the shenanigans we went through and the most special time going to the 1500th and meeting Yoon Young-seok. Thank you to @fadinglandtragedy for the fun talks and the good advice before my trip! The best part of things like this is making friends of course! : )

PERFORMANCE REVIEWS:

| October 8, 2023 | October 11, 2023 | October 12, 2023 | | October 13, 2023 (M) | October 13, 2023 (E) | October 14, 2023 |

STAGE & THEATER

This was as close to the original staging as possible. So I was able to take it in one more (or I guess 6 more?) times post-Broadway closing. The Charlotte Theater is a lot smaller than the Majestic so every view was pretty solid in my opinion, even the second to last row. I took a video of my view from 4th row under the chandelier during the exit music on October 11th so you can see! The angel and chandelier are shown halfway through. I'd say 5th row was almost the cut off for the chandelier drop (that was my spot next day) Broadway seats in this area were always too expensive for me so I'm glad I was able to grab these spots for this production

There were photo zones you can take pics at which you've probably seen. One was a large rose wall, the other was the cute statue of their mascot 오유령. People also take forever lining up for the cast boards for photos and yes I was one of those people. Here's a comparison of the cast boards from the second season (pictures I found when reading old reviews on Naver) and the cast boards now (I forgot to take a photo of one on the top floor though)

I found this review where someone took more detailed clean photos than I did if you're curious about the layout and decorations!

MERCH AND GIFTS

The tickets had these designs! If you booked on Yes24, you received a special envelope and a ticket holder with the face of the Phantom performing for that show

I only didn't receive a second Ju-taek because that was booked on another site - Interpark (bottom middle ticket). I also received paper masks with printed autographs every day I went to commemorate the 200th performance of the run/100th for Seoul and the 1500th overall Korean performance. We used them for the curtain call photos on those two dates (with Jeon Dong-seok then Kim Ju-taek). There are multiple versions of the program book and at the time of writing this I have all except the Daegu one. The first Busan program book was pretty bare and only had the teaser pictures - the same was the case for my Les Mis program book in Busan. -There are different photos in each one, so to me it was worth grabbing them all. My third version signed by Kim Ju-taek is currently on display as you can see below! (The writing says "내 노래를 날게 해 주오 - Make my song take flight") Once again thank you to Lucy for this! 🥹❤️

Here's some of my POTO merch (including a spare cupsleeve from the coffee shop next door, I also had a keyring, but I forgot to show it) RIP to the second program book I sacrificed for scans I still have the pages stored/displayed though! I'm not wasteful! I'll have more to post soon after sharing these reviews

TRANSLATION

Let me emphasize this: my Korean abilities are limited, so don't look to me as the expert on this at all. But I'll still share my notes and perspective as an outsider who's studying The lyrics have changed quite a bit since 2001-2. There are still lines kept or songs that are mostly similar. MOTN had a lot of similarity to 2009-11 even with its changes, STYDI was identical to 2009-11, but Angel of Music was pretty different from even the last season, etc etc. The Phantoms all have unique lines sprinkled here and there, mainly in MOTN (this happens sometimes in Korean musicals). You get some things like random single line changes in some parts depending on the actor or different order/wording of the same lines as well. Just tiny diversions from the script. This is the case for the Christines and Raoul to a lesser extent. Additionally, actors are often permitted to do some occasional improvisation/ad libs. Some unique lines are pretty normal parts of their interpretations now, some appear depending on the feeling of the performance, some are one time only events. I'll mention some of the actor-specific ones and such in their actual reviews, but I have been trying to mark down all of the differences like these for example

Of course, some things obviously have to be adjusted to make sense because of cultural / linguistic reasons. So one example would be the "Wrote...written" line in Notes I. Firmin speaks rudely and informally, but quickly tries adding a more respectful ending particle 요 after Raoul and André give him a shocked 'what did you just say?' kind of look. So "대체 뭘 썼다고 하는 건데...요!" is pretty much like "What the hell are you saying I wrote?" André would look so embarrassed by this each time 🫣

퇴근길 / STAGE DOOR

Stage door doesn't really work the same as it does in places like New York, London, etc. Most of the time if an actor comes out it's more like a quick greeting or chat with the fans. Some actors (not in this case) might sign or take photos in designated spots, but it really depends and it's not so common. It's gotten more restricted ever since COVID as well. 퇴근길 -> "way home from work" is literally what this is called. Dong-seok did wave at us a few times happily after the 200th performance, Gun-ha briefly came out to thank fans after the 1500th while Ceci and I waited to meet Young-seok who had agreed to meet us. I did not have the time (or strength) for the Seung-woo mob, but he usually greets fans after shows.

I literally asked Yoon Young-seok directly on Instagram if Ceci and I could meet him and give him gifts because I figured it didn't hurt to try! When he agreed, my anxiety was not necessarily about meeting an actor, but more about my ability to express my thoughts in another language. But he was truly the sweetest guy and incredibly patient. I think he got that I understood everything he said, but that replying was a whole other challenge. I'm glad I was making enough sense that he was able to get my points and helped me finish sentences if I looked stressed about it 😂 I basically told him I had been planning this trip since the cast announcement because it was too perfect to miss and that I came for 6 shows. I really like to listen to his Phantom on the cast recordings and I thought he made the shows I had seen so far so much fun.

We both said where we were from (the US and France) and he was amazed. He was also shocked when I pulled out my original Korean cast recording (I still laugh thinking about the way he said "와, 세상에!" like "Wow, oh my god!" and enthusiastically took it agreeing to sign when I was mid-way asking him haha) I also thought it was funny when he asked Ceci if she saw his Phantom last season. We wish! But she mentioned she had gone to Busan a few times and he looked very touched and appreciative that we went to multiple performances 🥹 This poor man was tired he signed our things with November (11.13) though and he also spelled Ceci's name wrong first time, but it was the 1500th show though okay. And if he says it's November...who are we to question him? Ceci should also legally change names so he isn't wrong. Anyway, ramble over you can find the art we made for him in this post

OTHER

Here's just bonus fun I had that I will manage to connect to POTO despite it not being POTO because I love doing that. I mean I went because I like these musicals as well (otherwise I would've been foolish enough to go see Ben-Hur but I have, uh, standards for my plots sorry to Park Eun-tae 😭), but it's fun to point out these things. I'm happy to share my show experiences in a different post if anyone's interested in my thoughts on those

Rebecca

I went to see Rebecca, mainly focused on seeing a scheduled date for 이지혜 Lee Ji-hye (Ich) and 장은아 Jang Eun-ah (Mrs Danvers). The whole cast was fantastic. Some Korean musicals have special encore bits they do where the leads sing a part of a song from the show during bows so that was really fun. Unfortunately, we don't get to have fun at POTO like that haha

Lee Ji-hye was in Y&K Phantom as Christine in the same cast as Jeon Dong-seok (Erik), Yoon Young-seok (Gérard Carrière), and Lee Sang-jun (Cholet). Two other cast members in Rebecca were in Y&K as well - 에녹 Enoch (Maxim) who was Philippe and 신영숙 Shin Young-sook (Mrs Danvers) who was Carlotta. Sadly, they had such few shows this season due to a busy schedule, so I couldn't see them (when will trot give Enoch back to musicals). Original Korean ALW Raoul and Y&K Erik 류정한 Ryu Jeong-han was also on rotation as Maxim, but I picked another day for my show so I didn't see him either

Les Misérables

I went to opening night of Les Mis in Busan! It was the Dream Theater, same place POTO played at before. As many of you already know, Choi Jae-rim is playing Jean Valjean at the same time as the Phantom.

I could recognize him easily as the Phantom, but honestly when he appeared at the very start of Les Mis it took me a minute to process that it was him! While I did enjoy his Phantom a lot, I think I enjoyed his Valjean performance a little more. It was only opening night, so curious to see how things develop!

The actor who played Javert that night, 카이 Kai (stage name), was a former Y&K Erik for two seasons too. So many Phantoms!

Frankenstein

On the last day I got to see Dong-seok and Ji-hye once more in a concert for the musical Frankenstein which they have been in together. So have some pics I took without a mask blocking his face!

Ending Note

Thinking back to December 2022 when I said: "Maybe I'll go to Seoul and see Dong-seok once or twice and that's it, I can have my first international POTO" That was funny. That was really very very funny and silly of me to say. 9 performances and 6 of those were POTO! But I'm so grateful and I have zero regrets about it. This is one of the best experiences I've had even if it might look ridiculous to some people to do something like this...I don't care! I hope my crazy essays can help paint a good picture for you!

[nehswritesstuffs]

Siblings of Water

If all my years of reading One Piece has taught me anything it’s A) remember minor characters, and B) always check for a shown corpse.

6211 words; set post-Wano but also pre-whatever-the-flip nonsense our lads are in at the moment; if something like this ever went down I would freaking scream and idk if anyone in a five mile radius would survive; we need more good blood-siblings in this series because as of this posting the best blood-siblings have been, like, the Ryugu royals and two sets of Wano sibs unless I’m missing someone don’t try to lie to me about any Charlotte shenanigans (though really this has the side-effect of tons of adoptive siblings/found family that are excellent and I admit I am greedy and want it all); one of the most sensible and natural real-world equivalent languages for Law to probably speak is Northern Low Saxon you can’t change my mind I’m not getting out of this chair this has little to do with the fic but it is important to me; we also need Trafalgar Family angst so here we are; this is my 200th fic on FFN and that’s not only pretty cool but my 20th fic was also my first One Piece fic and that was even well before these jokers showed up in the story so idk what that says about a lot of things

Siblings of Water; After their adventures in Wano, the Heart Pirates stumble a quiet island that holds a very jarring surprise for their captain.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Nuh-uh; you’re coming with us,” she said. She was standing in the doorway to his cabin, completely not-caring that he was giving her an absolutely murderous look from his position reclined on his bed.

“It’s festival season—I’m not going,” he replied. He tried to look as though he was going back to the highly academic tome of Magicks and Poshuns of Wano and Her Dauters, though in reality, he was simply trying to hide a copy of Sora, Warrior of the Sea from everyone’s prying eyes.

“You were barely at any of the parties in Wano.”

“I was obliged to attend in a nominal and symbolic manner,” he countered. “I’m all festivaled out.”

“Yeah, where you were there for five minutes before wandering off.”

“I enjoy wandering.”

“Wander the festival.”

“I can’t be guaranteed there shall be other adults there.”

“We’ll be there.”

“I know.”

Narrowing her eyes, Ikkaku made an extremely executive decision and stepped into the cabin and grabbed onto Law’s ear, tugging until he closed the book and got out of the bed. She pulled him through the submarine—to the shock of all their crewmates lingering just outside in the corridor—until she had him above deck and down the gangplank and on solid ground again.

“Now, you are going to go with us to the festival, and you are going to enjoy yourself, and you aren’t going to use wandering as an excuse to make your way back here,” she demanded. The rest of the Heart Pirates watched from atop deck, wondering whose will was going to win this time.

“It still doesn’t mean I want to,” he growled.

Ikkaku crossed her arms across her chest, unfazed. “Bepo!”

“Yes, ma’am…?”

“You’re in charge of making sure Law stays out here!” she said. The bear blanched.

“Now that’s not entirely fair,” Law noted.

“It’s fair,” she reasoned. “Stay with us, you’ll be fine. Try to run away and you’re getting sat on by an ass full of fur and Electro that also happens to have you wrapped around his little claw.”

“I am not.”

“We all are and you know this.”

A beat.

“I hate you.”

“You need to touch grass more often, you weird hermit-man.”

“I just touched a lot of grass for an extended period of time, thank you.”

“More often, dweebus.” She then glanced over at the rest of the crew, who shivered in response. “Let’s go, lads! Fun awaits!”

“…but what if someone tries to steal the Tang?” Law asked. Bepo walked up to him and put a comforting paw on his shoulder.

“No one other than Ikka can get the thing started properly,” he grimaced. “Sorry, but, we’re stuck.”

“We were able to work it before she joined up.”

“That was before she made the modifications. It’s mostly anti-theft measures, but if we’re the thieves…”

“I should have left you all on Strawhat-ya’s deck like orphan puppies.”

Bepo didn’t respond to that, which only made Law sigh in resignation.

“Okay, yeah, I’d never do that.”

“Glad you’re aware.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Festivals always made Law feel extremely uncomfortable. It reminded him of a time when he would rather study than anything else, sending a searing pang of guilt ripping through his heart. It all reminded him of then, of them, and he was doing his best to seem as disaffected as possible while still trying to figure out a way to speed-chess his way back to the Tang without any repercussions.

Well, at least the beer was decent. It was actual beer at that—Wano had fine native brewing traditions, but none of them resulted in beer. Law found himself huddled over a tankard of stuff leagues better than whatever swill it was that Kaido imported as his crew held him hostage in a picnic area, with them taking up two whole tables on one end, while a band set up on the other end near a stage. Stalls boxed in the varying picnickers and festival-goers alike, which made the particular pirate captain skittish.

“Relax,” Ikkaku smirked into her own beer. It was her first; Law’s third. “You look like a cornered cat.”

“I feel like a cornered cat,” he scowled. Bepo brought over another pile of soft pretzels for the table, which Law wordlessly shambled into bits with ease. Maybe he could get away with wanting to go back in another hour… “Whatever happened to a captain’s veto?”

“It’s because the captain knows that I could have either pulled him by the ear, or the earrings.” Ikkaku popped a bit of pretzel into her mouth and nodded—not bad. “Besides, it’s quality time with just us. It’s been a while since it was just us, all together, no other weirdos in the mix.”

“Yeah, come on, Cap,” Penguin chuckled. “You know, this is why you don’t get laid.”

Shachi choked on his pretzel bite so badly that Law had to get it out.

“Can we please save talk of my non-existent love life for, oh, I don’t know: never?” Law growled.

“All I know is that you’re Emperor material and got nothing to show for it,” Penguin noted. “You could be slaying anything you wanted, as much as you wanted.”

“I hate this conversation.”

“Our captain doesn’t seem like the ‘slaying’ type, though,” Clione offered.

“I really hate this conversation.”

“Yeah,” Penguin nodded, “you’re right—we’d need to recruit whomever it is to the crew, just so they can get to know each other first, then we let them on private shore leave.”

“I swear if this conversation goes on any further I am going to put up the biggest Room I can and drop you in the ocean.”

“You’re in luck, grumpass,” Ikkaku said. She pointed at the stage. “Looks like someone’s coming up to talk—she’s got a transponder snail.” Sure enough, most of the picnic area went quiet, waiting for the person that Law was flat-out refusing to look at out of sheer principle.

“Hi everyone!” a cheery woman said into her Den Den, voice amplified by the tiny snail. “For those of you visiting today, my name is Milla, and I’m one of the island’s resident doctors and chairwoman of this year’s festival!” She paused to let people clap, during which Shachi whistled lowly.

“Oooh, she’s a cutie,” he noted.

“…and probably too smart to be taken in by your dumb ass,” Penguin chortled. The pair kept elbowing one another as the chairwoman continued.

“I just wanted to extend a very warm welcome and thank you from the rest of the committee and island to you,” she said. “Festivals are one of the things that really keeps us going here in the Grand Line, punctuating our seasons in a way that the weather is incapable of doing. It was the same in the town where I grew up, in an icy Blue far away from here, though for different reasons, of course.”

“Huh… she’s from the North?” Hakugan wondered. Despite the fact Law was the one who rolled his eyes, it was Ikkaku who replied.

“The South Blue’s cold too, you know,” she said. She patted Law’s forearm, feeling that his muscles and tendons were tight under his shirt as he held the ale tankard. “Relax.”

“Festivals… really aren’t my thing…”

“You tried that—now stop being so tense and just enjoy some time out of the fart-box.”

“Now,” the chairwoman said, “I’ll sing you a song from that sea to officially open up our festivities. It’s an old one, but it has always warmed my heart after all these years. The music’s not the same, so bear with us, please, if you heard it before. Alright! Hit it!”

The music was slow at first, haunting and eerie—something very out-of-sorts for an otherwise-bright festival. It twisted and turned and reached deep into the crowd that was barely able to contain its excitement. The Heart Pirates mostly gave the chairwoman their attention, the entire orchestra silent except for a singular violin. Then another joined in, then a piano, and finally, the chairwoman herself in words just barely familiar to the Hearts. The North dripped from her voice as she sang a ballad of old heroes and exciting tales; a song of heartbreak and death; a tale of life and what horrors it brought. After the following chorus, the orchestra picked the tempo up slightly, bringing more instruments into the fray.

“Are you alright, Captain?” Ikkaku wondered. The Heart Pirates all looked at Law and saw that he was deathly pale, as though he was sitting across from a ghost instead of Uni. His hands—always surgeon-steady—were trembling and he was chewing on his lower lip.

Adjusting slightly, Law turned so that he could see the festival chairwoman as she continued her song. His eyes went wide and his breath hitched—no… it couldn’t be…

The very image of his mother stood atop the stage.

“Law…? Hellllooooo…” Penguin waved his hand in front of his captain’s face, failing to break him from the trance. “Oh, shit, this isn’t good.”

“Do you think maybe they sang this back where he’s from?” Clione asked. The crew at-large did not know much, but they did know better than to say the White City’s name aloud.

“Why else would he behave this way?” Shachi frowned. He tried snapping his fingers next to their captain’s ear—nothing. “We’re gonna have to take evasive action if this doesn’t stop.”

Then, suddenly, Law stood up, facing the stage and the chairwoman on it. He stared at her, eyes now resolute, watching her as she finished the chorus. His standing there was not out of place, as there were still many around and in the seating areas who were milling about and moving from stalls to tables, yet there was no one else who proceeded to do what he did upon the next verse and an additional strengthening of the tempo…

...Trafalgar Law started singing.

Heart Pirates and villagers alike began to stare, wondering about how he knew this song. His crew’s jaws all dropped at the sound of his singing voice; low and clear, it was one that invoked the idea that he might have even had training at one point—when in the hell did their captain sit with a vocal coach?!

As he continued to sing, Law began to walk up towards the stage. The festival chairwoman saw him and skipped a line of verse, though quickly collected herself and pretended to beckon him up to share the microphone snail with her. They reached the chorus and the band picked up the tempo again, the song now fully becoming cheerful and vibrant and full.

“I’m sorry,” Bepo squeaked, slackjawed, “but in all my years of knowing the captain, this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I think this is the weirdest thing any of us have ever seen,” Shachi replied, “and we literally just helped take down two Emperors and an authoritarian regime.”

“He’s smiling,” Ikkaku marveled. “Holy shit he’s smiling… and no one’s about to die.”

“I… don’t feel safe,” Jean Bart muttered. His smaller crewmates all unanimously agreed—there was something that did not feel right about this entire thing, as though their captain might have been in a trance, or in some grave danger.

“Oh, no, he’s dancing,” Shachi groaned. The acute sense of horror that set in amongst his and the other Hearts’ very souls was palpable. “None of this is right. They replaced the captain with a fake…”

“It might be he never found the opportunity before…?” Bepo offered.

“The opportunity to folk dance?!”

“Oh, sorry…”

One more round of the chorus and the song ended, with Law and the chairwoman laughing while taking their bow together. The Hearts watched as their captain ducked down and whispered something in the woman’s ear, her expression startled as she took him by the hand and dragged him off the stage.

“Let’s give him fifteen minutes,” Penguin decided. “If this isn’t resolved by then, we’re going to have to take evasive action and get him back to the Tang for a debrief.”

“What if she’s killed him by then?” Uni asked. Penguin shrugged.

“Maybe Straw Hat’s accepting applications…?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Still completely stunned, Law allowed himself to be dragged throughout the backways of the festival by the chairwoman. She hid their path behind stalls and tents as she ducked into a small tent, which was occupied by some other festival officials.

“I need to question this man,” she said firmly. The other two looked at each other, then at her.

“He knew the song,” one noted. “That was a pretty neat trick you pulled.”

“Yeah, and I need to talk to him about it, because random people here just don’t know near-extinct folk songs from the North Blue,” the chairwoman frowned. The other two shrugged at that and left, promising that they would not be disturbed. Once they were out, the chairwoman muttered lowly as she drew the flaps, making it so no one saw them either.

“You know,” Law stated in Northern, “I could honestly say the same thing about you.” He watched as the chairwoman spun on her heel to look at him and he felt an intense sadness creep over him again. This woman, wearing his mother’s face, able to sing a song he hadn’t heard in over fifteen years… it was a sick joke.

“Say it again,” she demanded. “What did you say on the stage?” He exhaled heavily

“I am the Law, you are the Lam.” He watched as her face went pale at the words. “You called yourself something else though…”

“Milla—it’s what I go by thanks to… you know… our name being dangerous.” She watched as he pulled off his hat and scratched at his scalp. Tears began to form in her eyes and her voice grew strained, croaking. “I… thought I forgot what Dad looked like… but he just looked like you.”

“…and you look like Mom.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah.”

The two siblings stood there in the tent awkwardly until Law quietly opened his arms, allowing his sister to crash into a hug. They both cried as they held each other, neither wanting to let go, nor wholly believing it was real.

“Lami… I thought you died.”

“I thought you died, Law,” she replied. “I saw what was left of your classmates… the Sister’s habit… I thought you were already taken away and buried.”

“No one severely hurt me, not physically, but I did get out to the countryside in one of the carts,” he admitted quietly. “When I got back to the hospital, it was in flames, so I did what I could to survive.” He held her at arm’s length and marveled at the fact they were even there. “How did you get out?”

“There was a man who came in before the fire and took me and some of the other kids; they probably would have taken you too had you stayed,” she explained. She then hesitated, wondering how to continue. “What do you know about a place called Punk Hazard?”

“More than I should,” he said lowly.

“We were taken there by the man from the hospital. He said that he was in charge of a program under Dr. Vegapunk meant to cure us, make us better. There was a doctor on the team who knew Dad and she started on me first, since my case was the most severe.” Tears were now streaming down her face in earnest. “She took it all out of me, Law! It was as if it never happened!”

“What did she do? What happened to the rest of the children? What…?”

She shook her head.

“After it was proven I was fully cured, she was killed for the Devil Fruit power that she used to do it, and all of us kids ordered destroyed as evidence. I only survived because her son, one of the nurses, smuggled me out.” She had to brace herself by holding onto the back of a chair. “Sorry… just… the very fact you’re alive right now and we’re talking… I…”

“Lami, my name has been all over the papers—I have one of the highest current bounties of all pirates—how did you not know I was alive?”

“I read medical journals, not the newspaper,” she defended. “Close I get is my coworkers leave me the comics section.”

“I have bounty posters.”

“I have literally been here the past five years, becoming a resident doctor and pouring my heart and soul into this place. If it happened during that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“That’s another thing,” Law noted. “Since when were you interested in being a doctor? I last saw you when you were five and you wanted to be a unicorn when you grew up.”

Lami shifted uncomfortably. “Like I said: I thought you were dead.”

He shook his head, a laugh on his lips. “Then you’re going to love what they call me.” A newspaper caught his eye and he picked it up; yes, it was the most recent edition. He found the bounty posters hidden inside and took out his own, passing it to her. She blanched as she read it, realizing exactly what it was her brother had become.

“‘Surgeon of Death’,” she read aloud. “Then you became a doctor too…? Just like Mom and Dad…?”

“At first I really just wanted to kill and destroy as much as I could after leaving Flevance, but by the time I had been cured, something had shifted.” He then looked at Lami, eyebrow raised. “How did the doctor on Punk Hazard cure you?”

“Devil Fruit,” she shrugged. “A twitch of her fingers and she could take me apart bit by bit without it hurting. She could even take things out of me without opening me up. Never did learn what it was called… but that doesn’t matter, because the Government I’m sure has it now, having a crony use it to make Pacifistas or something equally as horrible.”

Law shook his head and quietly opened a Room that surrounded her. “I wouldn’t say that.” He disassembled her right arm and she gasped, completely taken aback. “It must have slipped from their fingers, but I hear that it ended up in good hands.” He put her back together and she started to sob uncontrollably. She didn’t even resist when he pulled her into another hug, feeling more like they were children again than anything.

Then, without warning, Lami stopped making sound.

It wasn’t as though she stopped crying—oh no, she was still sobbing, borderline violently in fact—but as far as making noise? Completely quiet. He stared at her in silence, only to realize something: the entire time they had been in the tent, there was no audible evidence that they were in the middle of a festival.

“Lami?” She looked up at him and froze, realizing what had happened.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m usually much better at controlling that.” She cringed as her brother grew gravely serious, as though everything relied on her answer to his next question.

“Since when have you been able to use a Devil Fruit?”

“Since I was about… I don’t remember… eleven…? Twelve…? I wasn’t paying attention because I was studying while traveling—thought it was a fancy apple.” It then hit her that he got her to unknowingly out herself, to which she scowled. “How could you tell it was a Fruit and not something else?”

“The man who saved me had your Devil Fruit,” he said. Law went to the tent flaps and looked outside—he couldn’t hear a thing until he psychically stuck his head out, retreating quickly. “I had no will to live, and then… he stole me from a pretty dangerous place too.”

“Then maybe, somehow, they both knew that we had to live in order to meet one another again… to give our names back their meaning.”

Law simply held out his hand, Lami staring at it warily. “Will you come with us, then? We could use a tactical advantage like you.”

“…but I’m not good at fighting.”

“…but you are good at this.” Law gestured with both arms at the tent surrounding them. “How long is the festival?”

“Until tomorrow night.”

“Think about it—we can afford to relax for another day.” He held out his hand again. “At least come meet my crew…?”

“Later; I’ve got… oh, shit, I’ve got things to do for the festival!” Lami panicked and went to exit the tent, only for her to be met with Shachi catching them as he was walking by. He started shouting at the two of them—despite the unknown silence—with Lami backing into the tent again as he approached.

“—and furthermore—!” He paused as he stepped over the threshold of the tent, blinking in confusion. “What the hell just happened? Where’s all the noise?”

“Nagi Nagi no Mi—Calm Calm Fruit—I can literally negate noise okay bye!” Lami skirted around Shachi and ran out of the tent, the noise barrier lifting as she went. Shachi watched her leave, then stared at Law curiously.

“What was that…?”

“Long story.”

“I’ve been around you for long enough—I got time.”

“Longer than we’ve known each other.”

“That’s… a long time.”

“Indeed.” The pair walked together back to where the rest of the crew was waiting nervously, all eyeing their captain in an attempt to figure out what happened. Law downed the remainder of his beer in one go and placed the tankard back on the table. “Drank, sang, danced; I think I’ve touched enough grass to earn the right to go back to the Tang.”

“I’ll agree with that,” Ikkaku nodded. They all watched as he stormed away, stride a bit too quick for normal. “Shit—looks like someone’s going to be grumpy all night. Let’s give him a bit, then grill him good.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Bepo grimaced.

“It’s what we have available to us, or else no one is going to enjoy this festival,” she shrugged. She popped a bit of pretzel in her mouth and sighed dramatically—traveling with a bunch of men certainly was tiresome sometimes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The very moment that Law returned back to the Polar Tang, he went directly into his cabin and locked the door behind him. It did not matter that he literally had the entire ship to himself—only when he was inside the safety of his private quarters did he break down and allow himself to sob in earnest, curled up on his bunk and allowing himself a weakness he rarely indulged in, for what was the captain of a pirate crew except for strong?

Hours passed and Law laid there, his entire body shaking in trepidation. After all these years, all this time, his sister was alive. She was here, in the Grand Line, and alive.

Trafalgar D. Water Lami was alive.

Two of them survived.

After everything that tried to silence them over the years, they were still alive.

Fuck, he couldn’t stop thinking that word.

Alive.

Suddenly, he was restless. Law quickly stood and began pacing in his tiny cabin. Rarely had he felt as though he was going to bounce off the fucking walls, but that’s where he was, and he needed to calm down. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at his hands, remembering what it was she had said earlier.

…I… thought I forgot what Dad looked like…

A weight dropped in his stomach.

…but he looked just like you.

Slowly, Law turned towards the mirror that was hanging in his sliver of a washroom. His mouth felt very dry all of a sudden as the face staring back at him stripped away the very thing he did his best to not address all these years. He grabbed onto his chair and shakily leaned on it—fuck, oh fuck, why did this hurt? Why was this so hard? His chest felt tight as he reached for a box sitting on a shelf, gingerly placing it on the desk before opening it. He pulled out a pair of charred eyeglass frames and shakily put them on, the thin metal burnished and lens-less, confirming everything bearing down on him. His eyesight blurred as tears distorted it, knowing that she assured him of the cruel joke that he had been terrified of all these years.

He really did look like their dad.

“Captain…?” It was Hakugan, pounding at the door, startling Law as he took the frames off in a panic. “Captain, you’ve got a visitor!”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he growled.

“That’s why Penguin sent me, because I don’t do that shit, apparently.”

Law put the eyeglass frames back in the box and placed it back in the box. He took a deep breath and opened the door, seeing the unchanging expression of his crewmate’s mask. “Who is it?”

“That lady you were singing with; she’s insisting we let her talk with you.”

“Is she in the Tang?”

“No; top deck.”

“Then I’m going to need you, Clione, and Bepo to run crowd control and make sure that no one bothers us.”

“Shachi says she’s got a Devil Fruit…”

“It’s a silencer, nothing more.” He waited until Hakugan stepped aside before heading up towards the roof of the ship. There was Lami, standing by the gangplank, a knapsack over her shoulder and a duffle bag in her hand as the rest of the crew gawked at her. Law calmly walked up to her, hearing the noise of the crew fade away as he entered her space. “That was fast.”

“They recognized you,” she said simply. “My committee members might have pulled a coup and voted to relieve me of my duties so I can go sail with my brother.”

“Do they…?”

“One says we look alike, but I don’t think that at all,” she laughed weakly. “They don’t think we’re eloping at least.”

“Well, that’s good,” he shuddered. He could feel a presence behind him, who he knew to be Bepo not only due to Haki and long-friendship with the bear, but also due to the way his sister’s eyes lit up. “What is it, Bepo?”

“I’m sorry, but, what’s going on…?”

“Oh, yeah, the rest of you are here,” Law frowned. He turned towards the rest of the crew and motioned towards Lami. “She’s staying.”

“Uh… Captain…?” Shachi said warily. “Why is the island’s festival chairwoman staying?”

“Lami’s staying with us for a while,” Law stated, leaving no further room for comment. “Ikkaku, it looks like you’re getting a women’s quarters after all.”

“Yes!” the aforementioned engineer grinned as she pumped her fist. “Keep asking and good things will come!”

“You know that, statistically-speaking, it was only a matter of time before another woman started traveling with us,” Uni stated. “Women are half the world.”

“Yeah, but for some reason there’s only a fraction of us on the seas, let alone the Grand Line,” she fired back. “So, Lami, was it? You and I need to talk about how we’re going to build this room, because it’s going to be a very important haven when these dweebs start doing shit like running around naked on laundry day or when they decide to induce shedding on Bepo or start playing Rivet, Rivet, Better Skip It…”

“You’re just jealous that you never win because you suck,” Penguin smirked.

“I ‘suck’ because, reportedly, ‘fuck you’,” Ikkaku sneered, using liberal amounts of air-quotes. She then grabbed onto Lami’s upper arm and pulled her along, disappearing into the bowels of the Tang. The rest of the crew simply stared at Law.

“I thought we were only really recruiting people from the North Blue,” Uni mentioned. “Y’know, barring Bepo and Jean Bart.”

“She is.”

“She knew a song, Captain—that doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves more than you know.”

“Was she from Flevance?” Everyone looked over at Jean Bart, who seemed reserved in his accusation, making the large man seem so incredibly timid. No one else said a word, instead turning their attention towards their captain.

Instead of responding verbally, Law simply went down beneath the deck, finding where Ikkaku had dragged Lami off to; they were in the mess hall, the former having pulled out an impressive set of schematics that were boggling the younger’s mind.

“You sure you’re alright like this?” he asked. She glanced up at him, very clearly as though she knew the blueprints were over her head.

“I think so…” She ran her fingers over a cutaway illustration and her brow furrowed. “I can do complicated surgeries and can identify any humanoid organ by sight alone, but this…”

“She’s like a surgeon, but for a ship, in a way,” Law shrugged. “What we do with people, she does with metal.”

“Then you’re also a doctor?” Ikkaku noted. “Nice. You and the captain will make a good team then.” She waggled her eyes at Law, who scowled at her grouchily.

“Lami is my sister,” he said, deciding to cut that off at the bud. Ikkaku froze in place, letting the information wash over her before slowly nodding.

“Does anyone else know this?”

“No.”

“Is anyone else allowed to know this?”

“The crew is, yeah, but remember: they are a bunch of dumbasses.”

“True enough.” She then glanced over at Lami, who seemed to be flushing pink in embarrassment. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“I ate a Devil Fruit that makes everything quiet and I love reading Sora, Warrior of the Sea and festivals are literally my favorite thing ever and have been since I was little.”

“That actually explains a lot,” Ikkaku chuckled. She gave Law a shit-eating grin, one that sent a chill down his spine. “Don’t worry, Captain; we’ll take care of your little sister, not a problem.”

“LITTLE SISTER?!”

The three turned towards the doorway to find the rest of the crew standing by the mess hall’s entrance, jaws dropped in astonishment. Penguin and Shachi were so moved, even, that they both started crying.

“You came through for us and got the crew a cute little sister after all!” Shachi sobbed.

“Yeah, Captain! We’ll treat her just as we would our own little sister!” Penguin added tearfully.

“Neither of you have a sister, which begs many a question,” Law deadpanned.

“Not to mention how in the hell they’ve been treating me all these years,” Ikkaku griped. Lami went and surprised them both, along with the entire rest of the crew, by going between them and bowing at the waist.

“Thank you for taking such good care of my brother all these years!” she said. When she straightened, her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. “It’s been my dream to find someone from Flevance again, and for it to be my brother… you have no idea what it means to me!”

“Big brothers are the best, aren’t they?” Bepo asked cheerfully. Lami mirrored his smile despite the tears leaking down her face.

“They really are! Especially when you haven’t seen them in a long time!”

Bepo brought Lami into a tight hug and the rest of the Hearts cheered—a new younger sister! The captain’s younger sister at that! Things really were looking up.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Pudding had long ago accepted the fact that she was a hostage, waiting to be rescued. In fact, she was perfectly fine with the idea that she was perfectly helpless until at least one of her siblings arrived. Was it going to be an enjoyable reunion? Probably not. What she also knew, however, was that the two men that made up her guard were complete and utter thugs.

“Mommy’s dead—she ain’t gonna help ya,” the guard on the left grinned. She felt the undying urge to take a shower just from him looking at her.

“I have more powerful people behind me than just my mother, if you’re that set on her dying,” she huffed. “Katakuri is a very protective older brother, I’ll have you know.”

“If he can bother hunting down one little lamb while the rest of the flock is panicking in the power vacuum?” Right chuckled. “I doubt. Mommy and Uncle Kaido kinda played into our commodore’s hands.”

“Hmm… I doubt.”

“Oh, you’re gonna doubt a lot of shit once the commodore’s done with you, girlie,” Left chortled.

Ugh. So fucking cringe.

Just then, Pudding noticed that as the two guards moved to better face—and therefore better taunt—her, two women came into view. One with curly hair and the other with hair pulled back in a neat bun, they both were motioning for her to keep quiet. Neither of them seemed to give off the same vibe as the rest of the crew, so Pudding decided to play along. Well, how bad could it get?

“Uh-huh, sure, as though he’d even know what to do with me.”

Without making a sound, both women moved behind the guards, the one with the curly hair hitting them in the back of the head with an oversized wrench to knock them out. The other woman grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell, the keys refusing to make even a single clinking noise. She approached Pudding and touched her pointer and middle finger to the teen’s lips before beginning to work on the restraints.

“Charlotte Pudding, I presume?”

“…and to whom do I owe this rescue?” she asked. “You don’t look like you’re from the Family.”

“Let’s just say we don’t think that a cute kid like you should be with these gross molesters-in-waiting,” the curly-haired woman smirked. She gave Pudding a wink, then a pistol. “I’m Ikkaku, this is Lami. Our captain’s providing us a distraction as we speak.”

“…and how do I know that I’m not walking right from one den of crazies into another?” Pudding asked. The two older women glanced at each other and shrugged.

“I swear on my belching metal baby, the Polar Tang, that we’re actually pretty decent,” Ikkaku claimed.

“…and I swear on my Hippocratic Oath that I would not do anything to provoke harm, nor allow senseless acts to be committed towards anyone under my care, which you now are,” Lami stated.

“So, really, we’re weird, but in an ‘everyone is weird’ sense,” Ikkaku shrugged, “or a ‘our gruff captain is a secret comic book nerd’ sort of sense.”

“I have over eighty siblings—I think I can handle that,” Pudding deadpanned. She tied up her skirt and turned all three eyes towards her rescuers. “Want to cause some trouble on the way out?”

“You sure that’s fine to do with the crew of your mother’s killer?” Ikkaku wondered, eyebrow raised. Pudding simply shrugged.

“It’s either cause some trouble with you two, or…” she grimaced at the sight of her prior jailers, “I get into trouble with these guys. My options aren’t exactly great right now.”

“Then maybe it’s a good thing that we put extra bunks in the women’s quarters after all,” Lami nodded. She then quickly looked over Pudding with a glance—they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No…” The young Charlotte looked at her rescuers cautiously. “You seem pretty calm.”

“Regarding what?” Ikkaku asked. An explosion went off on the other side of the wall, shaking the room they were in. “That’s just the rest of the losers we sail with—nothing more.”

“No, I mean…” She hesitated, not really knowing how to broach the topic she kept so long a secret. “You aren’t freaked out over my eyes.”

“I’m literally one of two known survivors of a mass poisoning event that everyone else thought was a plague, so you’re in luck: we know what it’s like to be stared at by assholes,” Lami shrugged. “Besides, that eye of yours reads Poneglyphs, correct?”

“Supposedly…”

“Then you’re going to love what we’ve got waiting for you.” Lami gestured towards the door with her head as another rumble shook them, though not quite as violently. “How ‘bout it? Prove to your family you can do something without them?”

“…and what makes you think I have that sort of family…?”

“You said it yourself, kid: you’ve got over eighty siblings.” Ikkaku nervously eyed what she hoped was not the ballast tank and laughed awkwardly. “C’mon ladies, we should really get out of here before our cover’s blown!”

Another rumble rocked the ship and the three got going, headed back towards the miniature docking sub and away from the mess. They got out and Ikkaku sent a pulse through the water, letting Shachi and Penguin know it was alright to begin attacking the ship in earnest.

Mission accomplished.

[sylvies-chen]

Since Chicago Fire is airing its 200th episode (whoop! whoop!) tomorrow, I was wondering if you could share some of your favorite episodes and/or moments over the last 9/10 seasons! There's a lot of discord now around the fandom but personally, I think we should all be celebrating regardless of how tomorrow night turns out. Not a lot of shows can say they'll be airing their 200th episode!!

OMG YES, could I ever! I’d love to! Also, truer words have never been spoken, nonny: we should be CELEBRATING right now and not worrying. Save your tears for the worst case scenario and until then, you’ll get nothing but smiles from me! ☺️ Anyway, I actually have a list of my favourite/top tier episodes for every season so I’ll definitely post that along with some notes for certain episodes on my favourite particular moments!

This list is very long though so you know the drill folks: the good stuff is under the cut!

Season 1:

1x03 “Professional Courtesy” all the way to 1x06 “Rear View Mirror” (and even further)

* Specifically, the Casey v. Voight storyline!! It where we first see Casey’s shining moral code and just how good and decent he can be. He’s stubborn when it comes to those things which ends up costing him but watching him stick by what he believes so vehemently made me fall in love with his character <3

1x19 “A Coffin That Small”

* Genuinely such a beautiful episode! This was such a rare and beautiful episode of television to watch

1x22 “Leaders Lead” (CRY TIME)

* #Halliedeservedbetter

Season 2:

2x02 “Prove It”

* This is the beginning of Casey’s original journey with the Darden boys and going back to watch it now makes my heart full. They might have been tough at first but Matt was adorable with them

2x10 “Not Like This”

* As a Matt Casey stan, this episode gives me anxiety. BUT. I love it (the episode, not the anxiety).

2x20 “A Dark Day”

* Because duh, it’s the first major crossover event between PD and Fire! Everything about it is *chefs kiss*

2x22 “Real Never Waits”

Season 3:

3x01 “Always” (CRY TIME)

* Probably the episode of Fire that is ALWAYS guaranteed to make me cry. Shayveride is the friendship that I will forever miss and watching this episode is like a punch to the heart but is so well-done

3x08 when they do Cruz’s zumba class!

3x11 “Let Him Die”

* My girl Sylvie Brett absolutely SHINES in this episode— so intense but so great! It’s not just her and Mills’ storyline that pulls me in either, it’s everything about it. The Jay appearance, the stinging but warranted Dawsey split, baby Terrance Bode being a-okay after his messy birth in the Squad truck. This episode delivered on all fronts!

3x19 “I Am The Apocalypse”

* Backdoor Med pilot! Super interesting concept and I love going back to see the very beginning of this fictional universe’s expansion

Season 4:

4x04 “Your Day Is Coming” (CRY TIME)

* I was debating whether or not to put this one on the list because this is when you first start seeing the troubling pattern of One Chicago pregnancy and/or adoption complications but honestly, I had to put it on there anyway. Monica’s acting was phenomenal and the scene with Herrmann on the phone was so gut-wrenchingly beautiful.

4x10 “The Beating Heart”

* Christopher Herrmann is amazing and I love this grumpy ol’ optimist. That is all ❤️

4x16 “Two Ts”

* Again, another time for Sylvie Brett to shine! Her “Two Ts” moment was so satisfying and her and it was here you see how well she and Jimmy worked together as ambo partners

4x17 “What Happened To Courtney”

* Two words: PLOUCH. WEDDING. The story of Severide and Stella when they were in the academy, Trudy being hilarious and a mood, Kim and Gabby taking her comments on their guy troubles, all of it is so beautiful!

Season 5:

5x01 “The Hose or the Animal”

* Seeing Severide beat the shit out of Grant and defend himself and Stella was 10/10, and watching Stella cut Grant off made me so proud for her <3

5x03 “Scorched Earth”

* “… or I will lay you to waste and leave nothing behind but scorched earth. Don’t think for a second that I’m not serious” MATT MF CASEY! It’s just that moment that I love so much

5x06 “That Day”

* Such an important episode for so many reasons. A beautiful tribute to the fallen heroes in 9/11!

5x08 “One Hundred”

* Listen. I’m not a Dawsey fan but this episode in general was great and I have to admit: they had a really cute wedding! I mean it got a little fucked up there at the end with Louie’s dad coming to their doorstep but this episode was a huge milestone for them! 100! To think we’ve doubled that is insane!

5x15 “Deathtrap”

* I love these kinds of super conceptually creative episodes! It reminded me of when Hodgins and Brennan got buried alive in Bones. We see Matt clawing his way out of a tough situation with two civilian lives in his hands. Impressive AF.

5x16 “Carry Me” (CRY TIME)

* I mark all the saddest episodes “cry time” for a reason and it’s because they genuinely make me cry. I love Stellaride so much but watching Kelly lose someone still hurt like a bitch 😭 But Taylor Kinney’s acting came in clutch her and he absolutely nailed it!

Season 6:

6x08 “The Whole Point of Being Roommates”

* THE ROOMDOGS. THE MF ROOMDOGS.

6x10 “Slamigan”

* The birth of the Slamigan! Also, welding!Sylvie is a goddess. She could step on me and I’d say thank you

6x15 “The Chance to Forgive”

* Literally just the Stellaride of it all. Like Kelly breaking protocol to save her, “I can’t go through this again”, Casey’s pep talk, THE SEX SCENE. Soulmate shit!

6x23 “The Grand Gesture”

* I know this was the Dawsey split episode (even though they didn’t finalize it until 7x01) but honestly, it was still a great episode. I really liked what they did with it

* Seeing Sylvie crying alone in a car made me sad though :(

Season 7:

7x02 “Going To War”

* The Infection crossover is everyone’s favourite crossover event but I’ll be honest, this one’s a close second! Stella’s lung storyline, Jay with his dad, Otis struggling after seeing the dead mother and child in the elevator, RITTER’S INTRO. And the Brettsey ambo talk!

7x07 “What Will Define You” Benny’s funeral

7x13 “The Plunge”

* Everyone standing by Foster and helping her

* The actual plunge!! The ladies snuggled together in their swimsuits! Casey holding Herrmann back!

7x19 “Until The Weather Breaks”

* EVERYTHING about this episode is great. Conceptually really creative and sweet, a perfect balance of cute but suspenseful, and the beginning of Brettsey’s journey (Yes, there will be a lot of Brettsey episodes and moments in this list. And what about it?)

7x22 “I’m Not Leaving You”

Season 8:

8x01 “Sacred Ground” (CRY TIME)

* BROTHER I WILL BE WITH YOU ALWAYS. I think that is arguably one of the best scenes on the show. Beautifully shot and so emotional.

8x03 “Badlands”

* Sylvie Brett storyline!! I love her being back and everyone welcoming her home

8x04 “Infection, Part 1”

* BEST crossover event! No explanation needed!

8x13 “A Chicago Welcome”

* Sylvie and Matt REALLY shine in this episode— together and as individuals— and it’s so refreshing. You can definitely see the compassion in that episode. One of my favourites.

Season 9:

9x02 “That Kind of Heat”

* Sylvie Brett the stone cold slayer who casually gets out of a crashed ambo and saves the life of the man who tried to kill her

* Brettsey kiss! Minus the last minute of course because that did not happen)

9x05 “My Lucky Day”

* Literally one of the best episodes of cable television to ever air. Conceptually BRILLIANT, amazing directing, Joe and David act their asses off. You’re left feeling satisfied but also very aware of the idea that their troubles were only a small fraction of the whole picture which makes it even more astounding

9x06 “Blow This Up Somehow”

* Gallo and Casey father/son episode? Yes please, sign me up!

* THE STELLARIDE CONVO. So. So. SO. Important. And beautiful!

9x16 “No Survivors”

* “My fiancée” *the firehouse proceeds to flip the fuck out*

* We belong together

* We do

* We’re right for each other

* We are

* When you know, you know

* You do

* THE SEX SCENE

* The end scene because wow that was intense!

Season 10 (so far):

10x01 “Mayday”

* Severide goes above and beyond for his Squad boys. This is just a fact… and it’s beautiful <3

* Brettsey & Stellaride moments back to back

* The millenials starting their business! I haven’t been thid excited for a lighter storyline like this since the Slamigan!

10x03 “Counting Breaths”

* The loft scene with the fantastic four + Griffin! The return of the Darden boys in general is so great, I’m excited to see how they deal with this storyline

[nymph1e]

Okay fuck it, I gotta give in, I gotta watch through Supernatural. AFAIK, it's all on Netflix; at least I saw it on there in passing. Going into this, is there anything I should be aware of? Are there any episodes I should skip, any seasons? Should I start from season 4? I know the basic plot and concept, and I know it's very monster-of-the-week. But aside from me highkey shipping Destiel already, that's all.

Well my first piece of advice would be

but uh, let’s fucking ~GO~

If you’re actually jumping into this hellhole (why why why) don’t start at season 4. It’s tempting, but seasons 1-3 are some of the best shit in the whole show, also having context for Sam and Dean’s characters, and their relationship with the supernatural up to season 4 really highlights how fucking wild the introduction of angels is in the show. it’s basically a complete paradigm shift.

I would recommend you watch seasons 1-5 basically as is, though if you’re in a rush, season three is kinda skippable as long as you read a general synopsis. This is the original arc of the show and it shows. A friend of mine, @sammwinchestersdimples​ has said she’d have been fine if the show had ended there, and I can totally see her point. After season five things start to get... uhhhhh... not as good. THAT BEING SAID some really amazing seasons come later, and you’d get nowhere NEAR the Full Destiel Experience without them. What REALLY sucks is that all the seasons have good moments in them, so even if the seasons are generally bad, they’ll have episodes of GOLD. But fuck it, here’s a season-by-season breakdown.

Season 6 - This is the first... “eh” season. There’s a lot of character choices made in this one that I don’t like. The plot also doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with itself and it has no real main villain... or I guess it has a twist villain? This is also the season where they start chucking in the typical “no homos” you get when a show is queerbaiting, so they can point to the no homo bits and claim the queers are delusional.

Season 7 - The absolute WORST season, imo, is season 7, and it features Cas the least out of all the post season 4 seasons. You can tell the writers genuinely tried to write Cas off here. Not to mention the main plot is completely stupid. HOWEVER this is the season where we get golden things like Cas showing up to Dean’s prayer naked and covered in bees, and the episode where Charlie (best girl) is introduced and Dean subsequently has to flirt with a dude because she, a lesbian, cannot. (Wow so straight, Dean)

Episodes Not To Skip:

6x03 - A good Cas/plot episode (spot the famous destiel quote)

6x04 - A good all-round episode, also Jackles directed it so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

6x09 - This is one of the Batshit Episodes. Definitely watch.

6x10 - On the one hand, Cas episode. On the other, no homo, megstiel episode. Your choice.

6x11 - Good episode.

6x15 - THE ULTIMATE META EPISODE. Sam and Dean are teleported into Jared Padelecki and Jensen Ackles’ lives on the set of Supernatural and it is so batshit.

6x17 - Jolly good episode, and nice destiel content.

6x18 - Time travel episode, which is always fun.

6x19 - “Baby in a trenchcoat.” ‘Nough said.

6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King is the destiel episode. It is infamous in the fandom, and for good reason. It’s not just a good destiel episode, but one of the best episodes in the series. With banging lines like “Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it.” and “For a brief moment, I was me again.”

6x21 & 6x22 - The last two episodes are kind of must-watches after TMWWBK, trust me.

Episodes Not To Skip:

7x01 & 7x02 - follows on from s6 final. You don’t wanna skip.

7x05 - Good general episode

7x06 - Again, good general episode. Sets ups plot for the season.

7x08 - Ugh. So the A plot for this episodes invoves Becky, the insane, stalker, fandom-insert character, roofie Sam into marrying her (and it’s heavily implied they have sex - and it’s treated as a joke despite being LITERAL RAPE). BUT this is the episode where Garth is introduced and Garth is fucking amazing. So. IDEK.

7x10 & 7x11 - Plot important.

7x12 - Time travel episode! See if you can catch the bi!dean moment ;)

7x17 - Cas is back! Or is he???

7x18 - GARTH EPISODE

7x20 - CHARLIE!!!! WATCH THIS EPISODE!!!!

7x21 - Cas episode. It’s... interesting.

7x22 - The tagline for this episode is “Sam and Dean seek out an Alpha” 😭. It’s a Cas episode.

7x23 - If Cas weren’t in this episode I’d say skip it.

Season 8 - A fantastic season. If The Man Who Would Be King is the destiel episode, season 8 is the destiel season. When you watch this, DM me so I can RANT about all the amazing destiel this season. It’s also, again, a great season in general I remember watching it as it was airing it was soooo good. You have the arrival of the Bunker, you have Kevin and Charlie being awesome, some nice sprinkles of batshit episodes, BEST BOY BENNY rocks up in all his glory. Fucking epic season. Only downside it Sam’s character takes a bit of a dive. I’d recommend you watch through all of this season.

Episodes To AVOID:

7x13 - I literally pretend this stupid fucking episode doesn’t exist. Basically Dean impregnates a woman with Super Pregnancy and she has a daughter who becomes an adult within hours and then dies. The end. Everyone hated it. Man fuck this episode. Of course it was written by Buckleming.

Season 9 - Sadly, after how amazing season 8 was, and how spectactularly season 9 was set up, this season is a disappointment. It’s an ok season. It’s not bad, it’s not good, it’s just a bit all over the place.

I was going to give you the normal episode list to not skip, but looking through, most episodes this season should be watched for one reason or another. Either they’re Cas heavy, they do some interesting character building, or they feature one of the awesome side characters like Charlie or Jody.

This season is probably the height of the war in the writers’ room about destiel. Some writers want to no homo the whole thing and back way off, while other writers want to lean into it hard. So in the same season where SPOILER Cas loses his virginity to a random reaper woman and Dean kicks Cas out of the bunker to fend for himself, you also have Cas’ fatal flaw used as propaganda against him by Metatron being that he’s "in love” with humanity Dean. /SPOILER Whatever you do DON’T SKIP THE FINAL FEW EPISODES. TRUST ME.

Season 10 - Haha oh dear. This season is likely the biggest for wasted potential. You saw the end of season 9, right? You go “HOLY SHIT YES LET’S DO THIS” and then they do... season 10. They really became experts at setting up an awesome season only to fuck it up in delivery, right? Again, not a bad season, per se.

Episodes To AVOID:

9x05 - In which Dean wants to fuck a dog. I am not joking. I wish I were. Basically a spell-gone-wrong makes Dean doglike. it’s weird. it’s batshit. Not the good kind.

Season 11 - Season 11 is a pretty good season! They tried to give Dean a female love interest but Jackles said  ✨No✨ and played Dean as brainwashed and uncomfortable the whole time and I love him for it. Of special note this season is the episode Baby (11x04), which is my favourite episode in the series! It’s funny, it’s heartwarming, it’s weirdly shot. I love it! We also get casifer this season which is awesome! Some episodes are skippable, but they’re generally good episodes.

Episodes NOT to Skip (ignore the 10 year special):

10x01 & 10x02 - Great episodes, Dean in this is *chefs kiss*.

10x04 - *sighs* Fan Fiction. A 200th episode that is simultaneously a love letter to fans and laughing in fans’ faces. I’ve never liked this episode for the second-hand embarressment of it all, but you should watch it and see if you like it.

10x06 - Pretty good episode.

10x07 - Jody AND Donna! Fantastic episode!

10x08 - Dadstiel rears his ugly head. I fucking love how Cas adopts two (2) kids over the course of the series and in both cases Dean eventually goes “ah fuck, I guess I gotta co-parent this thing”. Also we get some KILLER destiel this episode. hey go on a DATE and Cas tells Dean he’s a good person ^_^

10x09 - Good episode. Much destiel.

10x10 - Charlie episode!

10x11 - Teen!Dean! Need I say more?

OK so I just had a look, and you really just need to watch every episode from this point in the season on. Enjoy!

Season 12 - Another example of a TERRRIBLE season, is season 12. Season 12 is also one of the most destiel-heavy seasons in the show. You see the issue? Like, it’s got a stupid plot that makes no sense and has no fucking cohesion, but you also FINALLY have the writers going “fuck it” and all in on the destiel. After this point Dean never has another non-Cas love interest and vice versa, they stop giving us whiplash from baiting and no-homoing. IF the conspiracy theory is true, and the end of the show is shit because of executive meddling, this season is the one where the writers decided they were gonna push for destiel endgame.

I gotta tell you the truth, I skipped this season in my rewatch, so all of my memories are from years ago when it first came out. This seson was the last that I watched live (for a reason). Should you skip it? No. But I’m not well informed enough about this season that I can point out what episodes you should or should not watch.

Season 13 - Congratulations! You’ve reached the point where the show’s gotten consistently good again! (just in time for most of the audience to have already left lol). We start off with SPOILERS Dean mourning Cas like he’s lost the will to fucking live. I’m talking complete despondence, praying for Cas to come back, lashing out in anger at everything, one of the darkest points we’ve ever seen him at on the show, then pulling a 180 and being super happy the second Cas comes back. /SPOILERS They also introduce Jack, who is the SECOND child Cas decides to adopt and Dean ends up co-parenting (Sam too). In fact, Jack is explicity Sam, Cas, and Dean’s kid.

Season 14 - Another good one. My only issue is where they decided to take the plot at the end of the season. I’d recommend watching it all, regardless.

Season 15 - And so we’ve come to the end of the line. This season was... well it was actually pretty good. It started off with what we hellers lovingly refer to as the “divorce arc” where Cas and Dean have a big blow up, and Cas leaves, but that ends with Dean praying on his knees for forgiveness and a nice hug. Honestly this season you can cut the tension between the two of them like a knife, and you can tell Misha and Jensen were doing it deliberately.

I’d say watch up until 15x18, then you decide what to do with the last two episodes. If you want you can watch them to understand just why people put their conspiracy theory hats on, or you can send me another ask and I’ll rec you some post 15x18 finale fics! There’s one fic that’s a replacement for 15x20 written in script format that is particularly good.

Anyway that’s it. It’s kind of left me a little sad, to break down the show in this way. Especially coming up to season 15 nd remembering all the wasted potential. Honestly if you do decide to watch the show, good luck. I hope you enjoy it. I’m also glad you never had to be put through the bullshit false hope that came about after 15x18.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1009 - Initial Thoughts

And we are back, happy Good Friday

though every day’s a Good Friday when One Piece is out 1009 is in, and it happens to be my 200th post (admittedly kinda kept that way since I skipped doing a Godzilla vs Kong review)

So let’s get to it

Spoilers for Chapter 1009, Please Also Support the Official Release

Starting with a Color Spread. It was cute, sweet baby Tama in Ringo with the crew, I was curious abut the coat of arms on Franky’s jacket, plus there’s another ‘Zoro consumes something with a blue dragon on it’ - his scabbard isn’t Enma though, it’s Black - and I later realised that Tama is wearing an outfit that isn’t patched up which made me feel warm

But the statues discern me, Five praying statues, four with the Akazaya hats. If this Oda hinting at the deaths? Four Akazaya dying? Tama’s bringing a straw hat to the other so are we death flagging a potential Straw Hat too? Or is it just a non-Akazaya? The first could be Ashura considering that Nami is tying a scarf on it, their fate ‘sealed’, or maybe I’m just looking way too into it

The chapter title isn’t foreboding as well

Of course we were all in the group of ‘Why is Orochi burning Onigashima, is he dumb?’ group, and motive wise he still is, but I did come to a realisation on why this is a problem. Onigashima is in the air, there can’t be much water around to douse the fire

Orochi and the Akazaya finally cross paths for the first time since Oden’s death

Interesting note by MegaForehead, maybe that’s strategic?

I don’t see a missing head from his transformation, though he only used six heads and Orochi has at least 8

Kin’emon is in No Mood

*Insert GTA Wasted scene here*

Kiku far side with one arm just with the most disappointed look ever

And Raizo is next to stay behind to fight with his old rival

I don’t think Orochi is done though; either he still has one more head or they grow back. The Yamata no Orochi couldn’t regenerate heads so it’s the most likely, but we can’t rule out hydra rules

Back to the dome roof though and we learn something new from Law, a strong enough Haki can fight his Shambles, it’s a decent limitation from the OP OP Fruit

A combo attack from two Yonko though is something you need to be scouting for very early guys

Ocean Sovereignty is  definitely no joke...though it didn’t slice off the other horn

Roronoa ‘Let me block a Yonko combo attack’ FUCKING ZORO

Okay I take back the horn comment it’s a different direction

What is this dome’s structural integrity anyway?

Law of course pulls Zoro out of the line of fire because he can’t hold it off forever, Kid with the backhanded compliment though

You hurt one of Luffy’s nakama though, so that always leads to Luffy charging in

Luffy’s got a point, why dodge if it’s not affecting you? That’s how Luffy knows he’s doing something

Kaido did not like that insinuation though, he can still shoot dragon fire in Hybrid form and that’s a big ouch for Ragnarok

So now Zoro is pissed off because you hurt his captain, but he’s gotta stick to the plan

Zeus always getting yoinked, this time put in a box

Then Zoro out here cutting up Prometheus while Killer picks on Napoleon

Could be a telling thing that BM doesn’t even consider saving her homies, just that she finds it a poor strategy

Big ouch for Kid though, right in the smush

But part of the plan, putting all the metal on her to magnet her away, then Law with the boulder

BM’s about to be dumped into the water, now she’s scared

But I would worry about Zoro coughing blood...

I don’t think BM is done right now, I think there’s 5 options that’ll save her right now: Prometheus - reforming because Zoro’s body gave in a little, Kaido - since nobody’s paying attention to him after flattening Luffy, her crew down by the water that have been following the island, she Homifies some of Kaido’s fire clouds or she falls but not in the ocean - instead she crashes on land and it causes her amnesia again.

There were only really 2 parts of this chapter: Orochi vs Akazaya and the Yonko vs Supernova. Neither of which I feel are going as well as it looks. Orochi will probably survive once more which can cause trouble for the lagging behind Raizo. The Supernovas are still struggling with the attrition problem, to cause minor problems for the Yonko they have to wear themselves down hard, to the point where it’s almost pyrrhic. Oda has however done a good job in making sure any doubts about Kaido’s hybrid form have been kept at bay, he is still as vicious and agile as before.

I don’t think Luffy nor Zoro are quite done yet, Luffy is resilient and he’s got his Haki back, he just is mulling over the situation: his attacks hurt Kaido which is why he dodges, so how will he use that to his advantage? As for Zoro, he’s taken a heavy hit yes, if BM is delayed Law might be able to doctor him a little but I don’t fear too much for Zoro because injury seems to bring out the best in him. And blocking Ocean Sovereignty even for a short while is a hugely impressive feat.

No break next week means we might get a quick resolve, or we might just see more Akazaya having to fall behind, King and Queen still don’t have fights and we don’t know where Sanji is right now, Perospero and CP0 have been quiet and if Onigashima does indeed have ocean below it then they’ve not made landfall in Wano’s main island yet (contrary to the mountain we saw in an earlier chapter)

it’s still worth reminding though, we are probably due a tragedy at the end of this act...until Act 4 it’s best not to expect a climax

[rthstewart]

oooh what was That Scene in oxfordshire, 1943?

As I told @bywayofmemory I hadn’t actually thought I’d be prompted because I’m so morose and wrung dry right now so Thank You.  I’m so grateful.  This kind of thing really keeps me going.

Ox1942 was inspired by a bunch of things all mashed together -- the 2009 celebrations of the 200th birthday of Charles Darwin and 150th anniversary of Origin of Species, my spawn’s enormous interest in dinosaurs and natural history and my frequenting of zoos and museums, landscaping with sexually prolific holly trees who make a giggling appearance in PC, the Discovery Channel Boom De Yada, my spouse considering becoming a lay Franciscan, and the election of Barack Obama (yes, really).  But what got me thinking about all of those was how much I disagreed with Peter’s characterization in the PC movie and the resulting Spare Oom fic.  It always begins with hubris for me.  That’s not right!  And so, the very first chapter with Digory floundering and preparing Peter to meet the Russells for the first time was crucial to the Peter characterization I was developing.

It was his own fault, really, and now this formidable introduction he had vaguely, if unrealistically, hoped to avoid was imminent. If he hadn't fairly gushed to his colleagues about the remarkable children who had stayed with him during the Blitz, he would have never aroused their curiosity. But, the Russells had noted his uncharacteristic enthusiasm and such things could not, in their view of the world, be politely ignored. Inconsistency aroused interest and demanded investigation and explanation.

Well, forewarned, forearmed and all that. Peter Pevensie had grown into a kingship and ruled for over fifteen years in Another Place before being crammed back into his present adolescent incarnation. He could probably manage a Hong Kong tea with the Russells. Nor was Digory under any illusions; for Peter, it would certainly be an interesting diversion from studying and parsing a Franciscan saint's medieval writings.

A hurried tread in the hall signaled the young man himself. Plunging into the room, it looked as if Peter had run all the way, what with blond hair askew, shirttails out, [because Peter’s is proportioned like a Dorito, hence hips, hence Mary’s sudden realization of attraction and affair 5 years later post-War] and face quite red with exertion. Between where he stood now and where he had been there were at least four flights of stairs and several hundred yards. Peter had covered the distance at an alarming speed. They would both undoubtedly hear about it tomorrow from the Theology librarian.

And then,

Peter raised his eyes, catching Digory's own. With a hint of impatient command, he asked, "What are you hesitating to say?"

Digory needlessly cleared his throat. "Understand I say this only because I don't want you to be surprised and it would simply never occur to either of the Russells to censor their conversation for the sake of another's sensibilities."

He knew he was only intriguing Peter all the more. Peter, to his credit, waited patiently, returning to his study of the binder in his hands. Digory still had to grope for the words. Finally, he said slowly, "I believe the reason Richard is not still curator here with his own endowed chair is because it is widely reported that he has an African common law wife."

"Really!" Peter looked up suddenly and far too enthusiastically for Digory's own comfort. "And Mrs. Russell..."

"Doesn't care a whit." So much for avoiding that issue.

"Fascinating."

"Goodness, Peter, try to curb your rather obvious curiosity. And please don't tell your parents."

"Well not Mum. [MWHAAAA so ironic given where I ended up] Maybe father, though. And Edmund. I'll just have to tell Ed all about it. He's stuck with Eustace for the summer, and I'm having Chinese tea with world traveling evolutionists of dubious moral character."

Digory tried to scold with a severe look, but Peter just waved him off. "Don't worry. Of course I wouldn't say such a thing." He paused, and became rather stern, "Professor, I do know how to conduct myself around those who are quite different from me, and older, with all that necessarily entails. While I appreciate your sensibilities, I am not ignorant of these matters."

The tea party was where I lay the groundwork for my characterization but what I was always writing to were the closing lines and the prominence of trains in the Chronicles of Narnia, with Mary and Asim waving good-bye to Peter from the Oxford platform as he catches the Brain Line for Cambridge:

"Come now, Peter. It is never just a train ride. Surely you've set out before but ended up somewhere you didn't expect, taken the road less traveled, or fallen down the Rabbit Hole?"

The frown turned into a sharp, cautious look that gave him all away.

"Ahhh! See, Asim?"

"I do, Mary," Asim replied blandly.

"Peter has had adventures! Someday we shall have to hear of them! I ask again, are you prepared?"

[enchanted-prose]

#15 Friar’s Lantern

number fifteen: burger king foot lettuce

yay! 200th post!

Word count: 5,705

Characters: Roden, Regar (Original character), the Faola (original character),  Ulspierre (stinky peter pan boy, original character), Merry (original character)

Notes: my beta and ffnet readers loved this chapter and i loved writing it :,)

Enjoy!

The constant drumming of horse hooves was enough of a warning; everyone cleared the streets at the sight of the king’s soldiers marching to lower Drylliad.

Jaron had survived worse than a kick to the leg, and he would survive this attack. Even if the Faola hadn’t intended to kill him, any attempt on the king’s life was considered an act of treason. It was Roden’s calling to see that the perpetrator was captured.

Doors rattled shut. Roden pulled his helmet visor over his eyes; the buildings were becoming less structured, and the alleys were crammed with people trying to stay out of the law’s way.

He didn’t blame the urchins quaking in fear.

Carthyan knights were a fearful sight.

“Lord Thomas Row dispatched members of his army,” said Lieutenant Alistair, his voice muffled by his helmet. “His orders were to sweep the city looking for Regar, just in case we fail to find him.”

Roden shook his head, “I know where Regar will be.”

He’d fought the Faola before, only to turn around and fight with the Faola deep in the Vaults. Roden was sure that he’d find Regar there. The Vaults made for an easy escape, and an easy trap if used correctly.

The Vaults was the Faola’s domain.

Drops of dark liquid stained the cobblestones, and pieces of rotting food had been thrown about. A cart lay on its side. Windows were shut against the cool, twilight air.

“Stay on your guard!” Roden barked as he dismounted.

No matter how many times he wore his full suit of armor, he’d never get used to the jarring sound his boots made when they hit stone.

It was even worse when followed by twelve other pairs of armored knights repeating the same motion.

The entrance to the Vaults gaped at him, eerily similar to how the gates to the Devils’ lair were painted. No messages were hammered to the wooden posts beside the door-less hallway. No words begging for the weary traveler to turn back and find shelter in a safer place.

Stairs descended into hazy blackness, and for a moment, Roden swore he saw movement. He’d been surrounded with night-dark rain the last time he’d come to the Vaults. It was strange to return with a band of his men and a series of torches.

Though there were no messages of certain death, there was a chipped saber discarded a few steps down.

With a wave of his hand, a pair of men rushed forwards, carrying torches larger than a man’s head. There were signs of a recent struggle; bloody trails left by clawing fingers, a series of dusty footprints.

Roden held up his fist as he descended into the first level of the Vaults.

“Captain,” called one of the torch bearers. “We won’t be alone.”

And he was right. The light from the torches were met with the bright beams from mining lamps. Whispers hissed through the air, growing louder and louder with each comment.

“Keep the torches,” Roden ordered. “Use them as weapons.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first room was packed with men and women, both masked and unmasked. They lounged in corners and hung from beams. The Faola were too relaxed. Barrels lined the far wall, and mining lamps hung from hooks in the ceiling. Stagnant puddles glimmered. A large man was wrestling a patched bandit. He was speaking in tones too soft to be heard.

Roden was the first to step into the room, he kept his sword extended.

A handful of Faola burst into motion, shoving themselves into a circle in the middle of the room. The others jumped to their feet, swords and daggers drawn. A figure swung down from the ceiling.

He recognized a boy with flaming red hair.

“We understand that there’s been a, ah, situation,” said the boy. He bowed. “We have no quarrel with you, captain, we’re simply peacefully gathering.”

“State your name and business,” Roden countered, stepping aside to let his fellow knights flood the chamber.

“Ulspierre, and my friends and I are here to stage an intervention for a mutual friend. You’re a decent man, Captain Harlowe. My sister speaks highly of you.”

“Cut it with the words, Ulspierre. This goes beyond you.”

Sister. Roden scowled, there’d been a few sisters in the past.

Red hair, hanging around the Vaults. Participating with the Faola.

Ah, Ulspierre was Ayvar’s brother.

A drop of water hit the stone floor, and several more Faola prepared for a fight. Roden tipped his visor up, staring Ulspierre down. It was a simple exchange, a fugitive for peace. Roden wanted the Faola who attacked Jaron, Ulspierre probably didn’t want to die.

It would’ve been easy if Ulspierre gave the Faola up.

“There was an attack on the king,” Roden boomed, taking pride as a few of the Faola flinched. “We know the culprit, and we know he’s involved with you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ulspierre scratched the back of his head.

“I didn’t come to-!”

“-Play games, I know. Quite rare, people typically come here to do just that. I know me an’ my Faola friends did.”

Roden kept a firm grip on his temper. There were more of the Faola than his knights, and he didn’t want to cause unnecessary endangerment. Ulspierre wanted to be recognized for helping catch Jaron’s attacker, he’d back down once he got what he wanted.

Or at least that’s what Roden hoped would happen.

A few more of the Faola jumped to a fighting stance, only to be met with the sounds of drawing swords. Ulspierre yawned, and sauntered over to one of the barrels. He spun around, revealing a plain chalice, and pried off a barrel lid. Roden grunted. The Faola hadn't moved, and neither had his soldiers. Ulspierre dipped the chalice in the barrel after he'd filled it with amber liquid.

The front room had been converted during the short time Roden had been away. There were shelves with boxes, shelves with bottles.

Though there weren't nearly as many Faola as he'd seen during the first attack on Feall, there was enough to make up a substantial gang. Roden wondered just how much he'd missed in ignoring the Faola's movements.

"Hand over the Faola," Roden ordered again. "I know you have him."

The sheer lack of respect Ulspierre demonstrated in sipping from his chalice plucked at Roden's fragile grip on his temper. Ulspierre shook his head, "Captain, dear captain, this is about networking. Have you heard the term 'pick your battles'? I'd be surprised if you didn't, you seem like the man who needs that tattooed on his arm."

There was only one mark on Roden's arm that served as a reminder of something.

It still stung him at times.

He said nothing as Ulspierre took another drink. The Faola in the middle shifted; somebody's foot hit somebody else's leg,  and the harsh sound of a fist hitting a face cracked through the room.

"I'm not an idiot, Ulspierre," Roden explained. "I'd rather not get my boots stained with blood."

"What a coincidence! Neither would I!"

However, he made no move to give up the Faola.

Roden's gaze flicked about the chamber, compiling as many details as he could. There was a large figure in the middle of the Faola. Each of the barrels were scuffed, as if they'd been moved recently. More than half of the Faola had been caught without their masks on.

Perhaps they truly hadn't been planning on a rogue gang member attacking the king.

Somebody shifted, and every blade started at the sound. A fight was brewing in the air.

It would need to be stopped before it began.

"Tell me-," Roden began again.

"Listen to me!" Ulspierre burst, tossing the chalice aside. "It is the same as it was before! We didn't give names before, we don't know who attacked your king. I do know that he's gotten my sister thrown into a tower, and he's almost gotten us killed by you. Right now."

"Give me the attacker!"

Ulspierre drew a short, crooked blade, "Release us and my sister! We take from those who have too much! We never intended to kill anyone!"

Too many times had he lost his temper and taken it out during a sparring session. But this was different, it wasn't a sparring session.

This would soon expand into a matter of life or death.

Roden had too many plans to die at the hand of a bandit.

He could try once again. He could try to mend things before blood spilled. "You won't be touched if you comply, Ulspierre, I promise you that. We’ll forgive your involvement in the attack.”

“Not true,” Ulspierre shrugged. “We had no idea about any attack, your king is good to us, we have no reason to kill him. We’ve been here shuffling barrels all afternoon.”

“Then tell me where your friend is, Ulspierre, and we won’t have any trouble.”

“See, my friend isn’t exactly my responsibility at the moment, he belongs to somebody else.”

“He’s not exactly your friend then, isn’t he?” Roden countered, taking a step towards Ulspierre and the circle of Faola.

Ulspierre’s gloved hands shot up, “It’s my life, sir knight, my choices.”

“No, not just your life. The king was attacked and if you won’t tell me where your patched acquaintance is-,”

The room went completely silent as Roden lunged forward, his blade less than an inch from Ulspierre’s neck.

“-I will have everyone in this room arrested on charges of high treason.”

He was close enough to Ulspierre to see the fear leaping from his eyes. Ulspierre cleared his throat, “Commander! Somebody would like to discuss your methods?”

Roden took a step back as the circle of Faola dispersed, revealing a scarlet haired bull of a man holding a patched Faola by the neck. The Faola weakly slapped at Regar’s grip before going limp.

Commander Regar nodded his head, “I appreciate that King Jaron sent help.”

“Seems you handled the situation on your own,” Roden lowered his sword to keep his arm from tiring, but took care to keep it in view.

He knew he should’ve been relieved that Regar was safe, but a nagging at the back of his mind couldn’t let him accept that this was right. Roden could justify leaving the Faola alone by claiming he couldn’t see them while they redistributed stolen wealth.

But to ignore an attack on the king was too much.

As Roden grew more involved with the Faola, he was realizing that there was an entire rogue kingdom under his nose.

“The attack was much more, ah, personal than you’d expect. My apologies.”

Personal? He didn’t mean to frown as he considered the weight of Regar’s words. The Faola’s attack was based out of revenge; Regar’s tone confirmed that.

And it seemed that Regar knew much more than he showed.

“This bandit is an enemy to the crown,” Roden explained, gesturing to the head locked Faola. “He will be taken and-“

Regar shook his head, “We do things differently in the streets, sir.”

“An act of treason is-“

“I caught the attacker, who swung a sword at me, and it’s my privilege to decide punishment. The rules are different, here. Had you caught the man first, you’d have the responsibility of choosing his fate. But you didn’t, and as one of the victims, I have a say in how this ends.”

Dozens of glittering bandits’ eyes turned to Roden and his men. He knew they wouldn’t hesitate to slit throats if Regar’s demands were challenged.

“The death penalty requires a unanimous vote,” Roden growled. “A vote from a respectable crowd, not a hoard of thieves.”

The Faola began squirming again at the mention of death, only to receive a hard shake from Regar as warning.

Ulspierre wiped away an imaginary tear, “Patchy here is a friend of mine, I’d hate to see his head severed from his body.”

“I had a completely different punishment in mind,” Regar snapped. He pointed a meaty finger at Roden, “You’re an honorable man, can you respect the ancient law?”

Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, blow for blow.

The knights all looked to Roden; they’d fight to the death if he ordered them to. The Faola all stared, and Regar’s patched prisoner stole a glance.

His eyes carried a graveyard’s color.

Roden stood a little straighter, “I hold rank here. The Faola landed a blow, but the punishment for treason can only be sanctioned by the king.”

“Take the bastard’s mask off,” Ulspierre perched on a barrel. “That would put a fat target on his back.”

Regar threw the patched Faola to the floor, and drew his sword. The other Faola slid into a ring. Each one kept a sharp eye on Roden’s men.

The Faola held his hands over the back of his head, curling up like a child. A pang of almost guilt punched through Roden’s ribs. He remembered being the lost thief at the end of a sword, just hoping somebody had the compassion to bring him to the good path.

He’d watch Regar’s every move.

Treason didn’t merit dying in the Vaults like an animal.

“If you’d be so kind as to step out of the circle, captain,” Regar bowed, and drew a dagger from his belt.

“I’ll be watching, Regar.”

Ulspierre stood on his barrel, chalice in hand again, “Take the mask off, commander! Turn him over to the crown when you’re done!”

The Faola curled even further around himself as Ulspierre’s demands to unmask him grew louder and louder. Roden’s knights kept a firm gaze on as many masked men as they could; Roden never stopped watching Regar.

A fit of laughter erupted from the circle as the Faola made one last attempt to escape. He threw himself at the feet of his fellow bandits, only to be dragged back into the circle.

Roden frowned.

“I am not who they say I am, but I cannot let this grievance pass,” Regar announced, reversing his dagger grip. He took the Faola by the collar of his tunic. “You best be grateful I’m dealing with you, and not the king.”

If it weren’t for Ulspierre’s childish laugh ringing through the room, Roden was certain the judgement would’ve been made in silence. The Faola began jostling Roden’s knights, calling to unmask their fallen friend.

However, Regar had a different plan. His words were lost on the jeering crowd; Roden strained to hear.

His attempts were futile.

A million thoughts crossed Roden’s mind. He instantly regretted allowing Regar to hold that much power over a bandit. A bandit who likely wasn’t much older than some of the pages running around the castle.

It would be too easy for Regar to slit the Faola’s throat.

Something wet splashed Roden’s nose. He didn’t have to feel it to know what it was and who it had been intended for. Those who weren’t wearing their masks had taken to spitting on Regar’s victim.

He didn’t need to see the Faola’s face to know what he felt. The mask saved him from further humiliation.

Regar sliced through both of the Faola’s sleeves, and pushed him to the ground.

It was a simple motion that carried the weight of the sky. Regar hadn’t unmasked the Faola.

He’d separated him from the group.

Those sleeves would forever bear the mark of a disowned bandit. The patched Faola could never return to his family of thieves. Not here in Drylliad.

Exile was always a cruel fate, but it was better than facing charges for treason.

“I’ve taken what’s due,” Regar roared over the crowd. “So help me Saints, I run into you running with bandits again, I’ll-!”

His threat was lost as Ulspierre shouted an order. “Chase him down! Treat a stray the way they’re meant to be treated!”

The Faola struggled to keep his sleeves up as he crawled away from the spitting bandits. Crawling, with the dignity of a drowned mouse. He rolled away from a boot, only to be met with another. A metallic ring cut through the musty air; Regar was shoving several masked bandits. Ulspierre stood atop his barrel, twitching his finger to an imaginary tune.

A knight threw back his hand, knocking over a member of the mob.

Roden glanced back to the fallen Faola, who’d curled up around himself again.

He thought of Brat, Beetle, and Roach. They’d be dead if not for the Faola. It was a favor to somebody who’d once saved his life when faced with the scum of the Vaults.

“Hold the line!” Roden barked, swinging his sword at anything soft as he stepped over the Faola.

A masked bandit slashed a knife across Roden’s armored shoulder. The teeth-grinding sound of metal sliding across metal was becoming all too common. Ulspierre threw his chalice at one of the knights, and then flung himself into the fight.

The patched Faola had drawn a dagger, and was swiping at the mob from his place on the ground. Roden reached down, picked the Faola up by the neck of his tunic, and shoved him in Regar’s direction.

Jaron wouldn’t be happy reading Roden’s report on this misadventure.

He should’ve taken the Faola into custody and played by the rulebook.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Roden forced his way forwards, calling for his men to follow suit. Their armor would hold up long enough for an escape. All they needed to do was race back up the Vaults’ stairs and into daylight; they’d have better reinforcements then.

Regar tossed the Faola over his back, grabbed an attacking bandit with his other hand, and hurled the bandit into the crowd.

“Up the stairs!” Regar bellowed, now using a captured bandit as a human shield.

Planting his feet at the base of the stairs, Roden stared down the fury before him. He shoved armored soldiers up the stairway and kicked at the masked Faola who were trying to follow.

Battle was chaos, but there was still order. There was still a requirement that needed to be met; somebody needed to win.

There was no order in the Vaults, only Ulspierre giving orders between drunken laughs.

It was too much like the pirates. Too much like Devlin selecting who lived and who died because he was bored. Regar ducked below the stairway entrance, allowing the patched Faola to slide down his back like an eel.

Blood thrummed in Roden’s ears, roaring over the sounds of fists hitting faces. His gauntlets pinched his skin as he tightened his grip on his sword.

He had the power to end it. To end the madness in this level of the Vaults.

He could slice his way down, taking as many mad bandits down with him as he could.

Roden braced himself to charge forward, reason fleeing from his mind. It was peaceful without that call to logic. Without that drive to continue.

All he knew was that he had the strength to-

A pair of gloved hands slipped below his breastplate, dragging him back. The Faola continued yanking him up the stairs, yelling something down to him. Roden turned on his heels, took the Faola by his skinny upper arm, and dashed out of the Vaults.

The Faola slapped at Roden’s hands as they burst out of the dark stairway. Knights, soldiers, and mercenaries surrounded the stairway entrance with weapons at the ready. The patched Faola froze.

“Commander Regar, Captain Harlowe,” Lord Row waved his hand. Beside him sat King Oberson, who looked like he was going to be sick.

Regar stole a glance at the Faola, who nodded.

Roden knew he was seeing a secret conversation. He moved to put his sword to the Faola’s throat, but at the same time, Regar stumbled forward and latched onto Roden’s shoulder.

“Let me go!” Roden shouted over the clatter of his armor. He wasn’t a fool, he knew- he-

“Apologies, Captain Harlowe!” Regar burst, almost pulling Roden to the ground as he reached for Roden’s hand.

All he saw were fragments of an image. Regar was a mountain of a man, and he’d dragged down several knights with him. The Faola had been hiding behind him. His patched cloak fluttered in the dusk breeze.

The Faola had vanished into the Vaults by the time Roden regained his footing, likely to never be seen again.

“What in the Devils’ name was that!?” Roden roared, red seeping at the corner of his vision. “How did you let him go!?”

Punishment had been served, yes, but letting go of a man who’d committed treason wasn’t an easy mistake to make up for.

Regar coughed, “Don’t yell at me, boy.”

Boy? Boy?

He’d heard it over and over. Older soldiers claiming they didn’t have to listen to Roden because sometimes he cut himself while shaving. Claiming they’d seen it all.

He’d lost a bandit who’d overpowered the king with a swift kick to the leg.

Roden had failed at protecting Jaron, and though he’d survive, future attackers wouldn’t be so kind.

Unfortunately for Regar, Roden had enough.

“Alistair!” Roden barked, his voice taking a sharp edge. “You will accompany Commander Regar to the dungeons on allegations of treason, his fate will be decided by the king.”

Row looked shocked, “Captain-!”

“You others, escort Lord Row and King Oberson to safety,” Roden continued over Row’s complaints. “There’s a dangerous man looking for blood.”

A group of knights on horses hit their fists over their hearts, and circled around Oberson and Row. Alistair and his men were almost a little too relaxed as they guided Regar through the crowd.

The rest of the soldiers were under strict orders to search for the Faola with torn sleeves.

However, Roden was no fool. He knew the bandit was long gone.

He was tired.

The goose chase would keep him free to find more pleasurable entanglements for a few hours.

Too much responsibility, not enough results.

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

The dancing crowd crammed into the Dragon’s Keep was too enticing. People piled in, and the brash sound of pipes and a lute careened through the air. A familiar dark coat pushed into the crowd.

So, Tobias wasn’t able to keep still either.

Roden watched him shove his way through the doors. A part of him knew he needed to stand beside Tobias and keep him from getting his teeth knocked out. A part of him knew he needed to return to the castle and explain how he’d lost the Faola.

But he didn’t move.

His armor, though abandoned at the nearest garrison, still weighed down his arms. Still clung to his shoulders. He’d failed at keeping Jaron safe, and now he was willingly letting Tobias walk into a tavern filled to the brim with all sorts of people.

No, no, Roden couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let Tobias try to blend in and end up crying over a limping frog.

There were too many things to worry about. He stepped forward, forcing himself to continue moving despite wanting to stay still. For Tobias, for Tobias.

Can’t let him get his eye blackened. Can’t-

Cool fingers tucked over the lip of his breastplate, freezing against his burning skin. Roden scowled at the immovable figure before him as best as he could. A splash of blue kept her curls off her neck; he’d cut that scarf himself.

“I didn’t realize my biting wit hurt you to the point of staying away from the Dragon’s Keep,” Merry wrinkled her nose. The left side of her face was covered in red welts.

“Merry, I didn’t-,” he began, freezing in his tracks.

She shook her head, and held up a basket, “It’s alright, I was actually coming to see you. You missed out on tarts the last few days. I, ah, I heard about what happened in the Vaults. Regar’s men are loud drunks.”

His ears burned. He hadn’t realized word of his failure escaped that quickly, “Tobias went in, I need to keep an eye on him.”

“Bad idea, you might be prepared for a battle, but Regar’s men won’t play fair,” Merry tucked her basket in the crook of her arm. “Come on, I had every intention of walking across the city, now you get to come with me.”

Her hand pressed against the small of his back.

“Stop pushing, I’m not your ward,” Roden grunted, and he draped his arm over her shoulders.

“Ah, but I am your friend,” she corrected.

Friend.

There was an unspoken agreement Roden shared with Merry. It came in the form of sharing tarts and poorly made scarves. It came in the form of stopping by every few days to make sure the other hadn’t gotten their head stuck between stair railing again.

In reality, the head sticking incident had been completely Merry’s fault, but if it happened once, it was all too likely that it would happen again.

“Who hit you?” asked Roden as he slipped the basket off of Merry’s arm and into his hand.

She cracked a smile, “So my face is still there, glad to hear that.”

Roden frowned, ready to ask again. He steered her out of the path of an older woman and her several escorts. “I’ll hold you down till you tell me.”

“Nobody hit me, I promise.”

“I’m not an idiot, Merry.”

“It’s embarrassing!” She threw her hands up. “I slept in this morning and today’s fish day, and the other barmaids got to run their errands, but I had to get the nasty crawfish from the river. They were trying to escape and I didn’t want them to pinch me, which made me run into a door frame. Is that what you want to know? Do you like embarrassing me?”

“Is the doorframe injured? I know how hard your head is.”

She stuck out her tongue, “I’d rather have a fat head than cabbage curls like you.”

Hold on, hold on. Roden tilted his head from side to side, unable to ignore the harsh reality of his shortcomings. He’d let the Faola get away because he’d foolishly trusted Regar, and now Regar was holed up in a dungeon for choosing to exile the Faola rather than slit his throat.

It was wrong to fight the smile swelling in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel at ease.

Ease was for those who didn’t have an obligation to put the lives of others in front of their own.

The hand at the base of his spine tightened. “Captain?”

“Yes, Murry?”

“It’s Merry,” her frown was too deep to be genuine.

“Murky?”

“Merry!”

“Mucky!?” Roden rolled his shoulders back. “I could’ve sworn it was Merry, why didn’t you tell me I was saying it wrong?”

“Roden! We’re not children!”

“You started it,” he countered. “Mucky.”

Her fist was too small to do any damage, but Roden appreciated that she’d thought her punch could overpower him. He hid his chuckle with a cough.

This was wrong. She was a friend, not a distraction. He was avoiding the inevitable. Avoiding telling Jaron that the Faola had been too slippery, and had gotten away. His head was throbbing.

Why did she have to look at him? Turn away Merry, nothing to see here!

He was a fool to have left his armor at the garrison. It wasn’t fair, he’d forgotten to bring his mask and helmet today. Roden scowled at the stray cat that dashed across the street. It slipped across the wet stones, and vanished from view.

The Saints cursed him in making him the size of a bear. Bears couldn’t run and hide.

“Did you know you’re much more likely to catch a friar’s lantern in Carthya than in any other place?” The warmth of Merry’s hand at his back vanished; she was beckoning to him, asking him to cross the street and look at the Roving River below.

Roden stared at her extended hand.

It was an invitation, not an order. He caught himself reaching forward and drew back into himself. “I don’t- I don’t know what that is.”

Her hand stayed, still inviting. “It’s a golden light, swinging in the wind. They’re elusive, some say they’re carried by Death himself. He loves his games, as you know, and takes the form of a friar.

“He calls you through a haze, promising your deepest desires. Ones you didn’t know you had yourself. If you can follow him and catch the lantern, you’ve won the game and won the reward. But nobody believes you. The friar’s lantern takes and takes, it’s hard to consider it ever giving.”

Take her hand. She’s a friend, not a hidden Faola hoping to cut off an arm. Roden reached out again.

Lights danced across the bridge’s wet stones, mimicking their partners glinting off of the Roving River’s bubbling surface.

Merry’s little tale hid too much; the friar’s lantern was an unreachable thing to those who couldn’t soldier through twisting games made of mist.

She twirled towards him the second their fingers brushed together. Roden set the basket of pastries down, and set his hand at her back. The moon would be their music.

“What’s your lantern, Lion Boy?”

“Is it wrong if I don’t know?” Roden felt his brows knit together. “I don’t know if I have a lantern. What’s yours?”

A wicked smile cut across her impish face, “I’d be drawn and quartered before anyone knew my lantern.”

“It’s that serious?”

“You wouldn’t quite understand.”

“Try me.”

Merry only shook her head, there’d be no answer tonight. Did he even want to know what her lantern was?

He watched her struggle to maintain eye contact. Merry’s hand in his was too tense, too afraid of being caged. She stepped forward as he stepped back. Step to the side, step forward. Side, back, side, forward. Squeeze in a cowardly turn.

“I don’t want to be held back,” Merry blurted. “I’m not anybody’s toy. I’m not a pawn.”

“You’re not a toy.”

Had the moment been wild and open, Roden would’ve called for Mott to watch. He’d seen Mott turn Jaron’s words around too many times, and now Roden was doing the same.

Silence hung on the summer air a little too long. Roden cracked a smug grin, “You’re my friend, Merry. I’d rather push you forward than hold you back.”

It was Merry’s fault that their timid dance ended. She threw her arms around Roden’s neck, nearly knocking him off balance. They were friends. There was nothing wrong with embracing her back.

“You’re a good person. Too good,” she wiped her nose. “But your ankles are too small and now I’m uncomfortable. Good people can’t have small ankles.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, and rocked from side to side. Avoiding the bear in the room was a skill Roden had perfected. He knew when other people used it too. Unfortunately, Merry wasn’t as subtle as she hoped.

“And I take it you have tree trunk ankles?” Roden leaned against the bridge wall, a little more aware of the night breeze than before.

“Do you want to see?”

Comparing ankles wasn’t exactly what Roden expected out of his night. He reached forward, and pinched Merry’s round cheek, “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to say no.”

“Is it because your ankles are too small?” Merry swatted at his hand.

“That’s too much of a secret to tell.”

“Ah, I figured out my lantern.”

“Don’t tell me it’s to see-“

“It’s to see your ankles.”

“By the Saints,” Roden snatched Merry’s elbows and pulled her closer to him. “You need to see a priest.”

Merry clasped her hands together and looked to the sky, “Holy ancestors, forgive my lust for Captain Roden Harlowe’s needle thin ankles.”

It was too hard not to crack a smile. Roden shook his head; he knew fully well that his ankles were at least twice the size of Merry’s. She held onto his forearms, and Roden wondered if she was seriously considering forcing both of them over the bridge’s edge.

His fool’s paradise shattered when Merry’s thumb brushed over the pirate brand on his arm. Though the fabric of his shirt hid it from view, it was impossible to miss when touched. Merry’s eyes went wide.

Was this the way he looked when he’d touched the scar on her shoulder?

Roden straightened, unsure of what to say. Fire burned across his face. The pirate brand served as a constant reminder of how far he’d fallen. It was a testament to the lengths he was willing to go when he cared enough.

“I think I was wrong about you,” Merry trailed her finger over the bridge of his nose. “Maybe you would understand the stories I have to tell.”

It was then that he realized just how old Merry’s eyes were when she wasn’t sparkling with laughter. A weary traveler, constantly fleeing an enemy.

Or perhaps constantly tracking a friar’s lantern.

“The scar on your shoulder,” Roden murmured.

She shrugged, “I didn’t lie when I said I earned that one from rock hopping.”

“You said there were others.”

He’d never seen such a bitter smile. Merry waved her hand, “It’s not important.”

Kind words weren’t something Roden knew well for a very long time. He’d known curses and cruelty for too long, but he’d been taught tenderness. Taught by Harlowe and Nila.

Roden tugged on one of Merry’s stray curls, “It’s important to me.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t speak to you?” He tilted his head. “I like you. Are you going to shove me off a bridge, Mucky?”

Merry pinched his chin, “No, I’ll do something much worse than that.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“But you should be.”

Roden lunged forward, catching Merry by the waist to toss her over his shoulder. She squealed in protest.

Carrying her on his shoulder was better than searching those travel-worn smiles and false laughing eyes for answers that would never be given freely. He didn’t want her to know that she held too much power over him.

He’d managed to let go of his failure with the Faola for just a moment.

A moment filled with ghostly lanterns and a moon dance.

[seenashwrite]

Master Post: Other Goodies

Stories sorted by Original Works, Other Fandoms, and more!

*~* Kindly do not reblog this subpost - please reblog the Main List 😊 *~*

O R I G I N A L   W O R K S

Non-SPN short stories

A CABINET OF CURIOSITIES (Teen & Up)

The marionette shop is full of activity at night, this was nothing new - then she arrived.

NOTHING BUT A PACK OF CARDS (Teen & Up)

Boredom fuels the fires of adventure, even for those who may seem to be living a most fantastical life.

KISS (18+)

The definition of “kiss” depends upon the person.

F A N D O M    S P A M

Short stories from fandoms other than SPN

NIGHTMARE FROM 22.3 PARSECS  (Teen & Up)

Star Trek [current cinematic universe]

The Enterprise picked up a hitchhiker after a recent stop. Not as cute as tribbles. Possibly still better than Carol Marcus.

THE ANT AND THE WORM  (Teen & Up)

Avengers / Marvel

A member of the Avengers reflects upon a post-battle celebration gone wrong.

REACH (Teen & Up)

Avengers / Marvel

Some things are beyond even the strongest reach.

T H E    U N C A T E G O R I Z A B L E

Where things that can’t go anywhere else will live

My Christmas Love

An epic review of the most fanfic-y movie that ever graced the screen, the most horrendous of the Hallmark movies with the most horrendous female lead you’ll ever encounter - but you’ve encountered versions of her before: she’s a Whyenne for the record books.

C H A L L E N G E S

Master posts for challenges I've designed & hosted - some stories by me, some by you

300 Followers + Three Little Words

The #Nash300 results, hilarity to fluff to heart-grabbers, from a self-imposed prompt, which - in some cases - devolved in the most awesome of ways.

Archer Meets SPN: Nash’s 200th Follower Challenge

The #Nash200 celebration fics, all using crazy quotes from the hilarious TV show Archer. Get ready. You’re not ready. But try to prepare yourself. Spit-take warning is off-the-scale.

Tell Me A Story In Only Six Words

The #Nash’s 6 for 666 results, to celebrate my 666th follower.

V I D S

All sponsored by insomnia & made purely to bring you joy by the Sh*tty Vid Department, this is what happens when the ol’ hard drive here at NashHole, Inc.©℗™ Headquarters needs to be purged of gifs & footage.

Unless it’s noted with ye olde “*” to indicate we managed to get it in the quality ballpark of widescreen/HD, they are ideally viewed on your phone - they were made that way on purpose, so you may have some on-demand Pocket Winchester©℗™ wherever you may be.

DEAN GIVES GOOD FACE

ALIBI

DYENUHSAWARS *

VALENTINE’S DAY 2017: PERSONAL SPACE INVASIONS

GETTING LOW

WALKING ONSCREEN

⇦ BACK TO MAIN MOBILE MASTER POST

GO GET ON THE TAG LIST  ➪

[sssoto]

Happy 200th birthday, Serena!

My dearest baby Serena da Silva has her birthday today, October 17th, and it’s not just any birthday - today marks the day she was born 200 years ago! EEEP how exciting is that? You only get to celebrate an anniversary like that once in your lifetime!

If you’re unfamiliar with Serena, she is my character from my book project series for Amnesia: The Dark Descent, in which she plays a major role. She’s probably the character nearest and dearest to my heart, and she tends to be a fan favourite among readers as well, so I wanted to do something extra special for this particular anniversary.

So here comes: a birthday feature! In which I display all the amazing gifts Serena has received today.

First of all, I want to show the wip of what I had planned to do for Serena, which unfortunately I couldn’t finish in time since my laptop screen broke at the WORST. TIMING. EVER. I meant to have this artwork ready for today, but since I won’t be able to finish it until later, I’ll share a wip of the clean sketch:

I must admit, I’m quite proud of it! It’s the first time I experiment with perspective and interiors for real, and I also usually suck at drawing animals, but Cleo (Serena’s cat) came out quite okay here, so I’m happy! I hope I’ll be able to finish it sooner rather than later.

And now, let’s get into the amazing gifts my baby has received today AAAHHH!

@juliajm15

If you’ve been following me for a while, you might know that @juliajm15 is an art goddess who’s been making amazing beautiful fanart of my characters for the past couple years. She always goes so above and beyond for me, and that can be seen by LOOKING AT THIS GORGEOUS PIECE OF SERANIEL FANART.

IT’S THEIR FIRST KISS. THEY’RE SO YOUNG AND INNOCENT HERE. THAT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. THAT DRESS. THAT HAIR (BOTH OF THEM). I COULD GO ON GUSHING BUT WE’D BE HERE ALL DAY.

OH YEAH, AND THAT BACKGROUND.

I just had to mention that.

OMG I die over how perfect and cute and romantic this is, it just completely captures the essence and emotion of that scene in my book! I feel so blessed and privileged, how am I ever gonna recover from this perfection?

But not only did she do this amazing gorgeous romantic piece for me, she also did a complete remake of Serena’s character portrait and DAMN SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS.

HOW does she always manage to capture Serena so perfectly? Ugh I honestly just can’t with this perfection, I just can’t. That expression, that hair, those LIPS. Okay, I’m gonna move on because I could literally gush about Serena’s face all day, but then we’d miss out on all the other amazing gifts she received today! Just, thank you so much @juliajm15 my darling, you’re such a generous and ultra skilled human being, thank you so much for being in my life and supporting me always

@shaelinwrites

So meme and aesthetics queen @shaelinwrites totally disarmed me today when she sent me THIS GORGEOUS MOODBOARD FOR SERENA OH MY LORD.

LOOK AT THAT GORGEOUS WINTER AESTHETIC. OMG LOOK, CLEO MADE A CAMEO ON THE BOTTOM LEFT. Omg these colours are just too beautiful I CAN’T. The art supplies, the gesture and expression of this girl, it’s all SO Serena. The whole feel of this moodboard is just so romantic and cosy and wintery and ugh, the nightgown, the long dark hair. I’m aware I’m just rambling and gushing throughout this post DEAL WITH IT.

And @shaelinwrites didn’t stop there, no, as any good bae, she knew how important the bae is. HAVE SOME MORE SERANIEL, THIS TIME BLACK AND WHITE SEXY EDITION.

OH MY LORD. HOW WILL I EVER RECOVER FROM ALL OF THIS. I CANNOT DEAL, CAN. NOT. DEAL.

All of this is literally just so accurate. Like, it’s so friggin’ hard to find good stock images that can embody a fictional character, BUT MY BAE DID IT *CRIES*. Thank you so much bae, omg this surprise was such a highlight today!!

@coffeeandcalligraphy

Another dear friend of mine (who’s a total cinnamon roll btw), @coffeeandcalligraphy, also went above and beyond for my character’s birthday because LOOK AT THIS:

I swear, everyone remembers the bae Baeniel. Eeeeeveryone.

Omg I swear, MY BABIES LOOK SO ATTRACTIVE HERE LIKE OH MY LORD. Daniel boooiiiiiii with that Expression of Angst™ and them puffy lips, and SERENA OMG THE HAIR AND THE LIPS AND EYES, HER INDIGENOUS ROOTS ARE SO PRONOUNCED WITH HER EYES AND I LOVE THAT.

I actually can’t??? Like how do I have so many talented af friends??? I must be a talent MAGNET I’m telling ya.

Oh and Rachel had the same idea as Baelin and went the sexy Black and White edition with the OTP as well:

BECAUSE CAN WE EVER HAVE TOO MUCH SEXINESS? I THINK NOT. Thank you so much @coffeeandcalligraphy I swear your art just blows me away, you’re improving at such a rapid pace, slow down, I can’t keep up

@sarahkelsiwrites

Also @sarahkelsiwrites is a close friend of mine, and actually @coffeeandcalligraphy‘s twin sister (gotta collect the whole pack amirite), and as part of her inktober challenge she did THIS GORGEOUS INKED PORTRAIT OF SERENA:

LIKE OMG OKAY SO the Victorian aesthetic is on POINT here, and OMG I love that her Hispanic features are soooo visible here. ALSO DAMN, THE DETAIL ON THE JEWELLERY. THE INKING OF THIS IS ALSO SO GREAT, LIKE, DO YOU SEE THE LINES IN HER HAIR???? I’m sorry, I’m an artist, I have to appreciate it when I see good craft, okay? I also gotta note that I’m living for how everyone always remembers Serena’s choker because girl never goes without one

Ugh HER EYES AND LIPS okay I gotta stop. I mention the eyes and lips every time, when will I switch it up. NEVER. Okay, glad we got that settled.

(Yes, I’m a dork, but only when I’m overwhelmed with this much love and beauty, I swear.)

Also omg THE SONG LYRICS, THOSE ARE SELENA GOMEZ LYRICS, AND IT’S STARS DANCE, AND I LOVE THAT SONG, AND IT’S SO RELEVANT, AND I’M ACTUALLY SHOOK. LORD thank you so much @sarahkelsiwrites god I just can’t believe how friggin’ talented and generous and thoughtful all of you are, I will never get over it.

Constance

So I’ve not mentioned this, but not too long ago I was totally taken by surprise and utterly *shook* when I received a private message on the site where I have Memoirs posted. This long message came from an angel named Constance, who registered a profile just to tell me how much she adored my story, give me fanart, and TELL ME SHE’S TRANSLATING THE ENTIRE THING TO FRENCH BRUH.

So if any of you out there are speaking French and not super comfortable with English, but still interested in reading Memoirs, it’s Constance you wanna hit up. She’s got you covered.

But back to the FANART.

Constance is working on this GORGEOUS Serena fanart for me, and while it’s not all finished yet, she said I could still post it for the birthday feature! (I’m going to update the post with the finished piece once it’s ready)

LOOK HOW CUTE AND PRETTY AND YOUNG MY SERENA IS HERE. THIS DRESS IS SO PRETTY, I DIE. OMG SHE HAS THE LOCKET. I realise like 90% of this post is all caps, but WHO CAN BLAME ME? I’m so #blessedyouknow right.

All I wanted in my life is Serena in a pink pretty dress. Thank you for realising my dreams, Constance *cries* and thank you so much for the endless support and this generosity! Seeing other people getting so invested in my story and characters really moves me so much, it’s all that I could hope for waaahh.

2k17 - Birthday One Shot

Okay, so I know how I said I couldn’t finish my artwork for Serena in time as I had intended, which made me very, very Sad™, BUT. I came up with something else.

So this was actually SUPER spontaneous and I usually NEVER do something like this, but I took a chance, and you know what? It worked out. I just wanna say thank you so much to my bae @shaelinwrites who pushed and motivated me to do this, I dunno what happened, but you must’ve transferred some of your writing machine abilities to me, because I actually managed to finish an entire one shot in JUST ONE DAY. (Are you as shook as I am? Cuz I can never seem to finish a chapter so I’m shook.)

Since I couldn’t finish my artwork for Serena like I planned, I decided to write a short fluffy non-canon one shot for her birthday. It was super spontaneous and unplanned, but it actually came surprisingly easy to write! I’ve not written in first person in many, many years, so this was really a leap of faith LOL, but I like the end result! A major thanks to @shaelinwrites, who encouraged me and critiqued the short before publication, and @coffeeandcalligraphy, @sarahkelsiwrites and @juliajm15 for giving it a read and telling me their thoughts as well! I hope you all enjoy this little piece of fluff; since I’m taking so long to write my book, maybe this can keep y’all entertained meanwhile

Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported me and celebrated Serena’s birthday with me, even just in spirit! It makes the long journey all worth it, knowing there are people out there who care (’:

(short story starts under the cut!)

Roses and Ballerinas

The balcony drapes danced lightly with the gentle morning breeze, a delicate waltz. My existence was comfort, head cushioned by feather pillows and silk sheets swathing my naked form. Sunlight hadn’t woken me; London was always grey, ash brick and fog, and even more so in the rainy days of October. However, for what one might expect, the morning didn’t seem to carry its usual autumn gloom—though I suppose that observation could’ve had more to do with my current disposition.

A smile crept on my lips at remembrance of the night previous, one which, if anyone saw, surely would’ve spoken of scandalous notions unfit for a such young lady to entertain. Fortunately, none had been around to witness what had occurred in this room; tangled limbs, kisses of the sweetest character, ardour’s touch, skin marked with such fierce passion that even I could not have imagined. It didn’t seem right that something so blissful could be immoral. Should a simple seal of matrimony reverse what was once considered debasement? What a frigid, unromantic sentiment. If anyone would’ve cared to ask me, I would sing praise to the levels of delight and unison one could only reach when committing so wholeheartedly to Venus’ embrace. Might my lover treat me to such a lovely experience again tonight? This was after all a special day of mine.

I turned in my silk cocoon to face him, and was met with a disappointing sight. Half my bed was empty, only evidence that anyone had occupied the space a faint outline in the wrinkled sheets where his body had laid. I was accustomed to sharing this queen size with no one. My parents had always been diligent in ensuring that I was endowed much more space than a small person like me required. Somehow, the vastness of this bed, indeed this entire room, seemed pronounced in this moment. I fancied I didn’t really like that much space at all. It only served to remind me of my loneliness.

Rationality grounded me; naturally, he’d gone to his own room before my maid servant would come to knock. It was only sensible. If Lydia came to discover him here, she could not keep such a secret from Mama—though truly I hadn’t much need for concern today, as she was typically inclined to let me sleep in on a day of my celebration. Yes, it was the day itself which heightened my sensitivity, nothing more. Admittedly I’d had hopes for the morning, that he might wake me with another of his sweet kisses, might whisper words of admiration and appreciation in my ears as he’d play with my dark locks—an occupation he liked to take up whenever he visited my private chambers, I’d noted with slight thrill. Indeed, he was a beautiful man—one would be hard-pressed to argue the fact—but more importantly was how knowledgeable he’d proven himself on the treatment of a woman. Had I ever felt so worshipped and adored? If so, I couldn’t recover the memory.

My hand caressed the empty space next to me. He’d always held my fancy, even before either of us could be consciously aware of such implications. As far back as when he’d been a scrawny boy with round green eyes and tufts of brown hair that grew unrestrained, too wild for taming. Such was he when I’d first laid eyes upon him, myself a guileless, wide-eyed girl just six years of age. Our childhood was an innocent one, as most are, and a discordant one, as most aren’t. We’d been too young to fathom the consequences of our relationship. Even so, I could never regret it.

The door clicked open. I sat in surprise, pulling on my duvet to cover me. Why would Lydia not knock? This conduct was so unlike my meek maid, and certainly rude and improper. Under usual circumstances I’d not mind, but in my current exposed state I would’ve preferred for my servant to know her place and knock before entering. Would she not question my state of undress? Would I have answers to offer that wouldn’t further incriminate myself and fuel her suspicions?

But the sight which entered was not Lydia; indeed, this character was too tall, too broad, too much man. The clothes he’d discarded last night was now fitted on him in a most casual manner, shirt tucked carelessly into the waistband of the trousers he’d worn the day before and not fully buttoned. The tension in my body dwindled, and I let a sigh of relief. “You’re awake already? I thought I might make it back before you’d notice my absence.” He wore a crooked smile as he closed the door behind him, though it wasn’t smug but awkward, as if regretful he might’ve troubled me while he was gone.

“Daniel, where did you go? Did you not care to think you could get caught sneaking in and out of my room like that?” I said while he approached. I could not ignore how he moved with an arm behind his back, making his climb back into bed rather clumsy looking.

His smile was amusement now, a hint of a chuckle on the tilt of his lips. He leaned close, and his scent engulfed me, piquant and potent, woodsmoke and seasalt. I savoured the fragrance of him, and his warmth, and those lips, perfect for kissing, as they met mine in a sweet greeting. “Happy birthday, darling,” he muttered against my smile.

He pulled back, much to my dismay—though that sentiment was soon replaced by curiosity as he presented whatever he’d cared so much to hide behind his back. “What is that?” The words escaped me before I’d taken a proper glance at the object; a wooden box, handcrafted. The carving of a rose adorned the top lid and composed the main attraction. Still the rest of the box was as skilfully ornamented, only with less eye-catching swirls and foliage.

“Watch.” He bit his lip in thrill as was his habit—one I found rather endearing, I might add. He produced a small key from his pocket and inserted it into an opening hidden on the side.

I looked on in fascination as three turns of the key set the box in motion. The lid of the case rose all on its own, and as a lovely tune began its play, a small ballerina came to life and emerged from the box. She twirled around in a graceful dance, contentment in her gesture. I brought both hands to my lips, unable to contain my smile; she had long black hair, just like mine. “A music box!”

“Is it to your liking?” Daniel chuckled, and this time his grin was indeed quite self-satisfied.

I took the music box in my own hands and brought it closer to my face. The ballerina spun and spun without a care in the world; she was me, a version of myself I had dreamed of once. Unrestrained, unchained, free of her cage. Her face was simply painted, but the meaning in her dancing form could not escape me. Such I had seen myself, fantasized of another life. That he remembered… “It’s beautiful! How… When did you arrange this?” The inquiry came out more quiet and raspy than I had intended, but he heard.

“Good while ago,” said he with an air of nonchalance, as though it was little trouble. “The actual crafting of the box and ballerina wasn’t too difficult, but I needed some help to have all the parts fitted together. A clockmaker assisted me in getting the thing to actually play; as you know, I’m not much of a musician.”

I audibly gasped and stared up at him, unable to help myself. “You crafted this yourself?”

He seemed amused by my shock—no wonder, as I shouldn’t have been so surprised. He was the son of an artisan after all. The tune of the music box came to a halt at last, its last note fading into silence. “With my own bare hands. Look here,” he pointed to the interior of the lid, “There’s an inscription.”

My eyes followed to where he pointed; the ballerina had indeed stolen attention away from an engraving hidden behind her, on the curved inner side of the rose-adorned lid. Soul free of sorrow, heart light with hope; this be the path I follow, this is the path I chose. My chest swelled, and breath hitched. I wanted to speak, yet couldn’t bring the words to my tongue. Instead I choked on them, and they came caught in my throat.

Daniel tilted his head, understandable question lingering in his expression. Oh, those striking green eyes, this lovely visage. Handsomeness was a term he embodied so utterly; how was it fair for a face like that to completely disarm a woman? I composed myself and swallowed the cry which would’ve escaped me if I’d had just little less self restraint. My one hand cupped the side of my face while the other held the music box, and my smile had no end to it still. Since all else I felt refused to be spoken, I settled on the one feeling I could formulate with ease—amusement. “Some poet you’ve become, huh?” I laughed, shaking my head, yet in an effort to quell the rush inside me.

He grinned and gave my shoulder a gentle shove, an action so very like his behaviour as a boy. “Don’t laugh, I put in a great effort; see, the words rhyme!”

My giggles intensified at his reaction. I placed the music box on the nightstand and spun the key again, thrice; thus the ballerina resumed her carefree dance, light and free. She was magical, twirling such as she did. What a spirit to have, a life to live. To choose your own path to follow, and not the one chosen for you.

I turned towards my company again and pulled on him, locking him between my arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Daniel.” I squeezed in hope that the fierceness of my display of appreciation would deliver the message better than words could. “Thank you so much. It’s wonderful.”

“I do consider myself quite the expert on gift giving.” His chuckle was warm against my bare neck. A large hand planted firmly between my shoulder blades and pressed me deeper into his warmth. “I’m sorry if I had you worried, Serena. I only went to fetch my gift for you. I promise I was careful.”

“It’s fine, Daniel.” The words came out in a sigh of contentment. He was indeed so broad and so much bigger than I; his figure wrapped me in amenity, instilling within me an ease I couldn’t hope to discover elsewhere. It was an ease of novel excitement and nostalgic familiarity, all at once. “In truth, what bothered me was the idea that you’d left me to wake by myself.” I pulled away enough to look at him and brushed a strand of his long, brown locks from his face. “Today of all days.”

At those words, Daniel constrained his smile from widening too much, and I blushed by the notion that I’d said something to make him so satisfied with himself. “Well, let me assure you that you needn’t worry of that, my love.” He leaned over me, and I fell back into silk. I had no need for the duvet to cover my naked figure any more; his broad form was quite enough coverage. “You should know that the only instance in which I would leave this bed willingly would be the moment you tire of me and kick me out.”

I bit my lip as a gratifying sensation waved through me, and my fingers found way to the waistband of his trousers, pulling the shirt loose of it. “If that is a challenge,” I laughed, “then go ahead and make your attempt at tiring me.”

By the smirk on his lips, it seemed he accepted. The music box played its last note; it rang into the room and deadened to silence, and so a music of another kind took its place. Lord pray that Lydia would have the thought to let her lady sleep in on her birthday.

So that was all for this century’s anniversary! Thank you so much to all my friends who made these amazing gifts for her, and all of you who participated in celebrating her; it means so much

Until next century, darlings! (I’m kidding, I’m not gonna be inactive on this blog a whole century…)

[ecotone99]

All The Time In The World [FN] [RO]

All was quiet, save for the footsteps. Just the rhythmic tap of shoes on concrete. These particular shoes were handcrafted by their owner, made of shining black leather, and the man wearing them was rather proud of them. They looked just like the pair he wore ten years ago, and that pair looked like the pair from ten years before, and so on backwards for over 200 years. Yes, Abraham Weston was proud of his shoes.

This is not to say Abraham was not proud of all his clothes, but he was particularly fond of the shoes. He gazed down at them as he walked leisurely along the sidewalk, his hands in the pockets of his coat. When he looked up, he saw his destination in the distance. A large, elegant home on the very end of a cul-de-sac. Deep maroon with white shutters, and the liveliest little garden out front.

As he approached the house, Abraham looked up at the sky. In this part of town, he could see the stars so well. The moon was nearly full-- just one day shy. He thought of his good friend, Eleanor. Tomorrow would be hard for her. Perhaps he would see her tonight?

Abraham pulled his watch from his pocket and saw it was 11:59 P.M. The house was still over half a mile down the road, and he was due to arrive at midnight. He had to pick up the pace. With a sigh, Abraham moved to a brisk stride. At least, it was what he considered a brisk stride.

He arrived at the door of the house. He looked at his watch again, just as the hands moved. Midnight, on the dot. Abraham grinned, putting his watch back into his pocket, and knocked on the door. He was almost immediately greeted by a familiar face.

“Abraham.”

“Oliver.” Abraham looked up at Oliver and they exchanged smiles. Oliver’s teeth were strikingly white, and his skin nearly matched. His porcelain complexion was only made to look paler by his shock of black hair. Abraham’s eyes lingered on the other man’s lips as they drifted down to his cheekbones and jawline, both worrisomely sharp. His golden eyes shone underneath his sculpted brows, surveying Abraham’s features.

“Are you going to come in?” Oliver asked, an eyebrow raising.

“Well, I can’t come in until you invite me.”

“Please, you know you’re always welcome here, my friend.”

Abraham shook his head, though he still smiled. He entered Oliver’s home, brushing past him as he did. Abraham made his way to the dining room, where he found another set of familiar faces around the table. Eleanor, short, stout, blonde, and beaming; Isaac, thin and mousy; and Mary, serene and adorned in her usual white gown.

Each of their heads turned towards Abraham. Greetings filled the room as Abraham found a seat amongst the rest.

“Abraham,” Isaac said, “I see not much has changed with you. All these years, and still the same pair of oxfords.”

“Consistency is key,” Abraham replied, chuckling. “Just ask Mary and her dress.”

“I would change if I could,” Mary murmured. Her eyes danced around the room as she hovered just above the seat of her chair.

“Don’t you get bored of them?” Eleanor chimed in. “You should spice it up!”

“Don’t listen to them,” Oliver said as he entered. “I’ve always loved them.”

The conversation shifted to Oliver, and it did not stop there. Chatter and laughter surrounded the friends, eager to see each other once more.

“Eleanor, you know, I was thinking of you as I was coming here,” Abraham said. “I was unsure as to whether you would be here, seeing as tomorrow is your big day.”

“Big day, right.” Eleanor giggled. “Well, that’s exactly why I am here. Might as well enjoy myself while I still have some control, you know?”

“And before you have to spend a week inside recovering,” Isaac muttered.

“That too,” Eleanor said. “Post-transformation, I’m a real sorry sight.”

“I think you’re still lovely then,” Mary said, eyes drifting around the room.

“You’ve never seen me after I’ve turned!”

“No, you’ve never seen me after you’ve turned.” Mary’s already translucent body faded and disappeared momentarily. Everyone laughed, save Eleanor, who blushed deeply.

“Folks,” Oliver said, “may I interest you in a glass of my finest sanguine wines?” Abraham nodded politely, and Eleanor exclaimed that she would love some.

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Oliver Price, in literal centuries, you’re the most pretentious man I’ve ever met. Just call it blood.”

Oliver simply smiled in response, then stood and walked to the kitchen. When he returned, he held a labelless wine bottle, filled to the neck with thick red liquid and corked. He set it on the table, left the room again, and returned with four glasses.

“Mary, I would have offered you a glass, but…”

“Understandable. Blood was never my sort of drink, anyway.” Mary focused her eyes on Oliver as she spoke, and he shivered ever so slightly. He sat down, looked to Abraham, and gestured to the bottle. Abraham picked it up and effortlessly plucked the cork from the bottle before pouring each glass full.

Isaac sniffed the contents of his glass. “This is--”

“Yes, animal blood. I would never neglect your dietary habits.” Oliver sipped from his glass, and Isaac managed a small smile before doing the same. “It’s blood of the Tahiti rail, actually. This was gifted to me by an old friend of mine from over in Tahiti. He’s been collecting it for centuries-- it’s always been one of his drinks of choice-- and once they went extinct it became very valuable. He gave me this bottle some time ago… My 200th birthday, I believe. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. Now, what’s more special than having all your dearest friends together on a beautiful night like this?”

Abraham took a sip and grimaced. He much preferred human blood, and thought to himself that he could never be like Isaac. “How fascinating. It’s delicious,” he lied.

“Oh, I love birds!” Eleanor exclaimed. “So tasty-- and they’re bite size! I love the way they crunch. Although, I could do without the feathers in my teeth.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s unpleasant.” Abraham shook his head and took another sip of blood. He continued talking with his friends, catching up on how they’d been since they’d last been together and on plans for their upcoming days. The group laughed and chatted, drank and told stories. He felt at home here. He felt understood.

As the night went on, his friends began to leave one by one. Eleanor was the first to go. After all, tomorrow was going to be busy, and she wanted to rest up. Despite the wretchedness she knew would soon envelope her, she said her goodbyes cheerfully and departed with a smile.

“She’s so sweet,” Isaac mused. “I’m going to miss her.”

“She’s not that old,” Mary said. “We have time.”

“Of course we have time,” Isaac responded, “but not enough.”

“We have all the time in the world, old friend,” Oliver said.

“Eleanor doesn’t.” Isaac stared at the table as he spoke. He chewed his lip, his fangs poking tiny holes into them. He sighed, and the holes had already closed.

“Perhaps she’ll become a ghost,” Abraham offered.

“You should hope not,” Mary said. “Do you want her to suffer?”

“Oh, right. Tricky business, becoming a ghost. Not too often pleasant.” Abraham glanced at Mary, whose face flickered for a moment, becoming mangled and bloody. Red stains flashed on her gown and her arm hung to her shoulder by merely a thread. Only a flash, though, and Mary returned to her normal self.

“Never pleasant,” she said. The group sat there for a moment in silence, each lost in their own head.

Mary broke the silence. “I think I’ll go.” Isaac, Abraham, and Oliver said goodbye and she wordlessly floated away, out of the house.

“I should probably go, too.” Isaac rose from his seat and emptied what remained in his glass in one swig. “Getting home before sunrise, all that.”

“Right. Goodbye, Isaac,” Abraham said.

“Take care,” Oliver said, nodding at his friend.

“I’ll see you soon,” Isaac said, and showed himself to the door. Only Abraham and Oliver remained. They sat quietly, both with empty glasses in hand. Abraham gazed into the glass, and Oliver gazed at Abraham.

“How about now that Isaac has gone, we enjoy the good stuff?” Oliver asked.

“Human?” Abraham had a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Of course. Freshly drained, just last night.”

“I’d be delighted.” With that, Oliver made his way to the kitchen and came back with another bottle. He popped the cork out and filled both their glasses. Abraham took a large sip and sighed in delight. “I’ll never understand Isaac. This is far too delicious to give up.”

“He still hasn’t quite embraced the monster, I suppose,” Oliver said.

“Well, neither have I,” Abraham said. “I don’t think we’re monsters at all. I never have. There’s nothing monstrous about survival.”

Oliver smiled wryly. “I understand completely.”

“I know.” The two men sat in silence once more. Abraham studied the room around him, taking in the elegance. A cabinet full of beautiful china stood against one wall. A deep blue Victorian wallpaper covered the room, and the cherry hardwood floors shone. The very table they sat at was vintage and beautiful; Abraham had sit here many times over the past century, and yet he was astonished every time. He noted for what must have been the millionth how beautiful everything in the room was. He looked over to Oliver and their eyes locked. Yes, he noted how beautiful everything in the room was.

“You know, I do understand how Isaac mourns.” Oliver sipped his glass and closed his eyes.

“How so?” Abraham kept his eyes trained on the man across from him the whole time.

“It’s terribly difficult not to feel empty sometimes, when you know the people you care about will be gone one day. We’ll stick around, and dear Eleanor… Well, and every year gets faster, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Abraham whispered. “Sometimes it feels so slow to me. Like nothing ever changes, even when everything is new.”

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, placing his glass down on the table. Silence consumed the room once more, though it did not weigh so heavily on them now. It embraced them, rather, like an old friend.

“Do you miss anyone, Abraham?”

“Not right now, no. Perhaps in an hour.”

“Why then?” Oliver inquired.

“I’ll have left you.” Abraham looked softly upon Oliver, who hid a smile behind his glass as he drank.

There was a pause, and then, “I still miss my mother.” Oliver looked away as he said it.

“I do wish I had gotten to meet her.”

“You would have loved her,” Oliver said, “and she would have loved you. To this day, she was the kindest woman I’ve ever known. I miss her sorely, still.”

“I know,” Abraham said, blinking back tears. “You always speak so highly of her.”

“Yes, yes I do… Some days, I think she should have been bitten, instead of me. She would never view it as a pain. In an endless life, she would have done endless good.”

“I’m sure she would have.” Abraham placed his glass down and let his hands rest on the table. Oliver reached out and grabbed one in his own.

“Although, I am eternally grateful to get to be in your company forevermore.” Oliver smiled. Abraham blushed.

“As am I.” Abraham checked his pocket watch. 4:49 AM. “Oh, dear. It is getting quite late. Or, early, I suppose. I should get going before the sun comes up.” Abraham stood, but Oliver rose with him.

“Why not stay?” Oliver’s grip tightened on Abraham’s hand. “I don’t want you missing me in an hour.”

Abraham smiled and pondered it for a moment. “Yes, I think I will.” He used his free hand to raise his glass and take a sip. A bit of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin.

“Careful, my friend,” Oliver said, walking around the table to stand next to Abraham. He placed his free hand under Abraham’s chin and gently wiped away the blood with his thumb. The two men gravitated closer and closer towards each other, until they were so close their noses nearly touched. Their gazes were holding onto each other for dear life, and their hands still matched. Oliver’s hand still lingered underneath Abraham’s chin, and he slowly brought it up to rest on his cheek.

“Oliver…”

“Yes, Abraham?” Oliver’s voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“I know I’ve said it before, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to have lived and died like a real human. Eternity can be so burdensome.”

“You’re mistaken. It may be difficult, but it is never a burden. Nothing will ever be too heavy for you, because you have me to help carry it all.”

And Abraham leaned in. He pressed his lips against Oliver’s and squeezed his eyes shut. They held their kiss for a moment, and then Abraham pulled away. When he looked at Oliver again, he was grinning.

“I never thought you’d do it,” Oliver said, cocking his head.

“Neither did I,” Abraham replied, a smile cracking across his own face, “but a century’s worth of waiting proved to be arduous.”

“My apologies. You may have waited a century, but you have me for the rest of time,” Oliver said.

“And it’s still not enough.” Both of them smiled, and they made their way upstairs to a bed they would share, knowing in the morning, they would have the pleasure of waking up next to one another. Abraham Weston and Oliver Price relished the thought of waking up besides each other every day for the rest of time.

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[thrashermaxey]

21 Fantasy Hockey Rambles

�� Every Sunday, we'll share 21 Fantasy Rambles – formerly 20 Fantasy Thoughts – from our writers at DobberHockey. These thoughts are curated from the past week's ‘Daily Ramblings’.

Writers: Michael Clifford, Ian Gooding, Cam Robinson, and Dobber

  1. Thirty-two-year-old Alex Radulov equaled his career-high 72 points from a season ago, but he’s done so in 12 fewer games. This is one vet that I’m okay buying in on next season. Dallas rides the big horses and that won’t be changing next year. Another 70-point season seems very doable. (apr3)

  2. Soon-to-be RFA Jacob Trouba will once again be a topic of discussion this offseason. The Jets will need to make some changes as their cap structure shifts with Patrik Laine (RFA), Kyle Connor (RFA) and Tyler Myers (UFA) also in need of new deals this summer. It will be interesting to see if the Jets can manage to lock Trouba down to a long-term deal after consecutive bridge-deals, or if the trade-market finally opens up for the 25-year-old. (apr3)

  3. The Sharks are the first team with four 30-goal scorers (Joe Pavelski, Tomas Hertl, Timo Meier, Evander Kane) since the 2008-09 Red Wings and Flyers. The latter scored his 30th on Saturday, which is the first time since 2011-12 that he has reached that total.

Erik Karlsson returned for the Sharks on Saturday after missing the past 17 games with a groin injury. He was held without a point but was a plus-3 in 22 minutes. He should be available as normal for playoff pools. (apr7)

  4. A late-season callup, rookie Sam Steel ended the season on a high note, posting eight points (5g-3a) over his last seven games. Expect the former WHL scoring star to be on the Ducks’ roster on a full-time basis next season, as he had already posted solid numbers in the AHL (39 points in 50 games). (apr6)

  5. You may have been disappointed in Jakob Silfverberg this season. However, with his goal on Friday, he set a career high in goals with 24. He still hasn’t reached 50 points in his career and it may not happen next season with the Ducks’ scoring attack mainly either on the back nine (Corey Perry, Ryan Getzlaf), or just getting started (Sam Steel, Troy Terry, Max Jones). (apr6)

  6. Five shutouts this season for Jaroslav Halak, which is not bad for a backup goalie. Moreover, entering weekend action, his ratios (2.34 GAA, .922 SV%) were among the top 10 among goalies who played at least 30 games.

Halak is signed for another year in Boston, which might be something to think about when valuing Tuukka Rask next year. Rask has won 27 games and played in just 46 games this season, which are his lowest totals in six campaigns. (apr5)

  7. Alex Pietrangelo, the father of triplets, has reached the 40-point mark for the third consecutive season and fifth time in six seasons. Obviously, 41 points is a dip from last year’s 54, which Dobber (who is a father himself) warned you about before the season. Pietrangelo’s second-half production (28 points in in 43 games, 0.58 Pts/GP) has been noticeably better than his first-half production (13 points in 28 games, 0.46 Pts/GP), which may be related to the Blues’ remarkable second-half surge. Or, maybe it’s because he’s adjusted to life as a busy dad. (apr5)

  8. Yes, the ‘bunch of jerks’ punched their 2019 playoff ticket. Even though the Canes won’t be providing any victory celebrations after any home playoff wins, I have a feeling that they’ll be a popular underdog to pull for. Petr Mrazek stopped 36 of 37 shots to earn the playoff-clinching victory against New Jersey on Thursday.

Mrazek enjoyed quite a run recently, posting an 11-2-0 record with a 1.68 GAA and a .944 SV% since mid-February. Both he and Curtis McElhinney will be UFAs at the end of the season. Since the Canes are a top-10 team in goaltending, I would have to believe they would bring back at least one of these goalies next season and maybe even both. If you need to pick a Canes’ goalie for your playoff pool, it’s probably Mrazek, although he and McElhinney have basically been splitting starts for the past few weeks. (apr5)

  9. A favourite of many before he stepped foot into the NHL because of solid production in the AHL, Yanni Gourde made the most of his 2017-18 with 25 goals and 64 points. He was a top-100 player in almost any fantasy setup and with him skating on what looked to be a high-powered squad on the verge of multi-year dominance, there was a lot of hope that the 60-plus points would be the norm.

Gourde finished the season with 48 points in 80 games. So, what went wrong?

It should be noted there’s nothing wrong with his goal scoring. He managed 22 goals this year after a season that featured 25 tallies. He does need to shoot more, though – late this past week, he was 200th out of 267 forwards in shot rate at five-on-five – but there is nothing wrong with his goal scoring. It’s his assists, of which there are 14 fewer this year than last, that are the issue.

Realistically, a guy with over 20 goals and pushing 50 points who doesn’t get prime PP minutes and is playing under 16 minutes a night, is a productive guy. It was just below the expectation he set for himself. Can he rebound? That’ll be something else for another day. (apr4)

  10. Mats Zuccarello is a very important player to the Dallas Stars. With him in the lineup, it gives the team two legitimate scoring lines teams need to worry about, something teams didn’t need to fret over before the trade. He just needs to stay in the lineup. (apr4)

* Our interactive playoff draft list is ready for download now! Don’t wait until five minutes before your draft or deadline to purchase it. If you haven’t already preordered it, get yours today! If you have already purchased it, jump right in and enjoy!!

11. We don’t know the exact severity of Connor McDavid’s leg injury sustained on Saturday, or the timeline for recovery, but at least it sounds as if we don’t have to worry about him not being ready for next season.

On the surface, it might not seem like a big deal because the Oilers won’t play games that matter again until October. However, significant injuries will interrupt previously scheduled offseason training plans. Consider Brock Boeser’s slow start this season as an example, after he recovered from a significant back injury and a lingering wrist issue.

McDavid may not have led the league in scoring (he finished second) but he is the only player not to go two consecutive games without a point, which is remarkably reliable. (apr7)

  12. Nikita Kucherov finished the season with 128 points, which is the highest single-season total ever for a Russian-born player.

Kucherov performance earns him the Art Ross Trophy as the league’s leading scorer and he should be considered the fantasy MVP in pure points leagues, as well as many multicategory formats. Expect him to be the top-ranked player in fantasy playoff drafts as the Lightning should be considered the favorite to win the Stanley Cup. Or, to Don Cherry or Brian Burke (can’t remember which one), they’re the easy pick to win. (apr7)

  13. Jake DeBrusk brought his season-ending totals to 27 goals and 42 points in 68 games. He’s producing legitimate top-six metrics in his second season and you’d have to expect there is more to come.

He sees top power-play deployment on a high-end team. He has developed nice chemistry to David Krejci on line two, and despite a conversion rate that will likely slip next season, he’s displaying an ability to find the back of the net on a consistent basis. The breakout may not be next season, but I see a 65-point season in his future. (apr3)

  14. It’s been a terrific late-career jump by Zach Parise, who ended the season with 28 goals and 61 points. This was also as healthy as the 34-year-old has been in the last six campaigns. Don’t expect this to be replicated in 2019-20. (apr3)

  15. There wasn’t much doubt that Alex DeBrincat would be a productive NHLer. The only people who had doubts were apparently almost every NHL general manager outside of Chicago. I don’t think that even the most ardent DeBrincat supporters would imagine that he would be a 40-goal scorer in his second season, however.

This is a guy who could be at 35 goals and we’d still marvel. Even with some regression built in, DeBrincat has shown that he’s an offensive player to be feared for years to come. (apr2)

  16. The Golden Knights signed college defenseman Jimmy Schuldt to a one-year contract. He’ll be a restricted free agent after this season, at which point I imagine Vegas will give him a two- or three-year deal. Our own Brad Phillips wrote on Schuldt about a year ago. I recommend giving it a read here. (apr4)

    17. Fantasy hockey owners (and Red Wings fans) had been waiting for Anthony Mantha to break out for years. He put up 24 goals in 2017-18 but fantasy owners were still a little leery heading into this season. We knew the Red Wings would be bad and we had no confirmation that Mantha would spend the season alongside Dylan Larkin.

Well, the Red Wings were bad but Mantha was mostly attached to Larkin and the result was 25 goals and 48 points in 67 games.

The Red Wings’ rebuild is starting to round into form. They have Larkin, they have Mantha, Tyler Bertuzzi looks like a solid second-line option, Andreas Athanasiou looks like a lethal goal scorer, Filip Hronek has had a very good first year, Dennis Cholowski looked solid when he was with the team, and they have Filip Zadina waiting in the, ahem, wings. What was a bad team is slowly getting better and Mantha is a big part of that. Expect more of the same next year. (apr2)

    18. It’s pretty easy to remember that just a couple years ago, there were doubts as to whether Ryan Pulock would reach his ceiling as a fantasy option. He had done very well in the AHL but was a first-round pick who, by his age-23 season, had played precisely 16 games in the NHL, including just one contest in the 2016-17 campaign.

Pulock broke out with 10 goals and 32 points for the Islanders in 2017-18, doing so playing less than 18:30 a night. The question was if this guy, who just a year prior had concerns about his future, could follow up the breakout, especially when considering John Tavares moving on. 

Well, Pulock finished with nine goals and 37 points, averaging 2.2 shots per game, and he done so while being the secondary option on the power play to Nick Leddy and playing for a mid-pack five-on-five scoring team.

There’s nothing out of line in his underlying numbers, either. His Individual Points Percentage (IPP) at five-on-five is normal and his on-ice shooting percentage is a tad high but certainly not extreme. His shot rate per minute has declined by 20 percent, but the team is playing much more defensively this year than last, so it’s not a huge concern, especially for a guy in his second season.

If we want Pulock to take that next step, he needs power-play time. He has nine power-play points compared to Leddy’s 10, and Pulock has done that largely on the second unit. My hope is that 2019-20 is the year Pulock finally takes the reigns of the top power play and pushes for 50 points. Regardless, he proved this year that he’s a reliable fantasy option. (apr2)

  19. Drake Caggiula’s fantasy hockey value appears to have improved with the Hawks, although not to the point where you should add him in anything more than the deepest of leagues. That’s even with him playing on the Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews line, although that line combination certainly makes the idea of adding him tempting.

Caggiula will be entering his fourth NHL season next year, so perhaps a full season in Chicago with those linemates can result in some sort of breakout. (apr6)

    20. One player I’ve been waiting years for a breakout is Brendan Gallagher, and it finally came in 2017-18 with his 30-goal campaign. Sure, he had a 24-goal season a few years back and had a very good season in 2015-16 but he only played 53 games. The full breakout came last year but the fantasy market didn’t really believe his breakout as his ADP came outside the top-175 players in standard Yahoo! leagues. This year, with his 33 goals, 302 shots, and 126 hits, he was a top-50 player in this setup.

The reason I had been waiting years for Gallagher were superlative shot rates and the fact a lot of his shots came from around the crease. Those guys typically have a solid floor (think of Patric Hornqvist) but have the upside to be great fantasy assets if shooting percentage ever favors them. With back-to-back seasons shooting over 11 percent (10.9 to be exact for 2018-19), that favor is here, and fantasy owners are reaping the rewards.

The thing is, Gallagher’s still not getting much ice time. His 16:24 per game overall this year is lower than both his 2014-15 and 2015-16 marks. Imagine what he could do if he were ever given the ice time a top-line forward like him deserves? (apr2)

  20. Tyler Bertuzzi continues to roll. For Little Bert (I had called his Uncle Todd ‘Big Bert’ so…), it is now three consecutive three-point games. Very much draftable in the fall and if this line continues to click even at a normal rate, the two offensive guns could really drag Little Bert’s points upward. Very bullish on this guy because of his linemates. I hate drafting and making decisions based on linemates, but I do make exceptions when they clearly work and I have a strong hunch that the line will continue for more than just a few months. That’s where I’m at with Bertuzzi. (apr1)

  21. Oliver Bjorkstrand capped off 2018-19 with nine goals in his last 10 contests. It’s been a disappointing season for Bjorkstrand but suddenly surging late to top 20 goals is a promising consolation. Coach John Tortorella must be thrilled with the fact that Bjorkstrand had 32 SOG over his last eight games. Bjorkstrand turns 24 this week. With the exodus of players likely happening in the Jackets’ offseason, I think it’s very likely that Bjorkstrand finds himself on the top line next season and is a very strong sleeper candidate. (apr1)

  Have a good week, folks!!

  from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-home/21-fantasy-hockey-rambles/21-fantasy-hockey-rambles-12/

[yahoo-roto-arcade-blog]

In or out on eight post-hype sleepers for 2018 Fantasy Baseball drafts

Let’s look at some post-hype sleepers — the guys we waited for so eagerly once upon a time before they were here and now that they’re here we barely care anymore. Can these players provide the return once expected of them at a fraction of what we once believed would be their cost?

For context, I’m noting where each player was taken in Thursday’s Yahoo Friends and Family fantasy baseball draft (15 teams, 26 rounds).

Kyle Schwarber, Chicago Cubs, Outfielder (152nd):

Amazing that neither I nor Andy Behrens, who hilariously said he’s driving the Schwarber bandwagon “through the gates of hell,” grabbed Schwarber. Yes, he’s lost his catcher eligibility. But for all his trouble last year, he hit 30 bombs and could easily blast 40 still. His Inside Edge well-hit rate was .178, above average. He needs to cut down his stroke with two strikes since a 420-foot homer is just as good as a 450-foot one. Maybe he figures that out; he’s been seemingly eager to get his career on track given his significant weight loss. He is a bad fielder and there is competition for playing time. I reject the platoon certainty (will definitely sit vs. lefties, we’re told) because lefty-vs.-lefty stats never reach critical mass. He could pull a 2017 Michael Conforto and blast a couple of bombs against lefties and get 10 straight starts vs. them. I’m in on Schwarber near this price.

[Batter up: Join a Yahoo Fantasy Baseball league for free today]

Nomar Mazara, Texas Rangers, Outfielder (163rd):

There’s nothing especially good or bad about his stat report card. He’s not even 23 yet. But he made zero progress last year in the foundational stats, though he knocked in 101 runs for the Rangers. It’s unlikely his power helps you and he has no speed. It could all come together and he can emerge as a true No. 3 hitter — a .300-95-25-100 player. But I just don’t see it. Had he showed either contact or power gains last year, I’d be in. I’m out.

Orlando Arcia, Milwaukee Brewers, Shortstop (165th):

The big worry here is batting 8th in the National League. Arcia’s scouting comp once upon a time was Francisco Lindor. He’s 23. Last year the isolated power was .130 and you’d hope for a jump to .160 or so, which would mean about 18-20 homers. He’s 22-for-29 stealing (but just 14-for-21 last year). So 20-20 is possible. He needs to get out of the bottom of the lineup and near the top, which is going to be tough. The key stat is walk rate, but there was no growth last year and it has to get up to about 10% (from 6.6%). Don’t knowingly draft No. 8 hitters in mixed leagues. Out.

Jameson Taillon, Pittsburgh Pirates, Pitcher (196th):

I can get behind this. Yes, he limped along last year. But he did not collapse. He is 26 so it’s probably now or never, meaning the leap from middle-rotation to top-of-rotation. A bet on Taillon is a bet on velocity: 95.3 mph on average with the fastball last year. But he has to lift that swinging strike rate from 8.2% to about double digits — unlikely but possible and worth a spin at the roulette wheel at this cost.

Mike Zunino, Seattle Mariners, Catcher (200th):

Power from your catcher is nice and Zunino is big-time with that tool. He also struggles mightily to make contact so you have to make sure you can cover a subpar batting average. As Scott Pianowski always says our podcast, all the power in the game doesn’t mean you don’t have to worry about it — it means you have to worry about it even more. Zunino provides certain power at a low-power spot. And the former high first-round pick is a great defensive catcher too.

[2018 Fantasy Baseball rankings: Overall | H | P | C | 1B | 2B | 3B |SS | OF | SP | RP]

Addison Russell, Chicago Cubs, Shortstop (209th):

If it was going to happen for Russell, it probably would have happened by now. It’s not age you’re looking at, it’s experience. I made that mistake years ago with Jay Bruce: “Look what he’s done and now the age 26 and 27 seasons are coming!” No. His caked was baked. So is Russell’s, at least that’s my bet.

Amed Rosario, New York Mets, Shortstop (210th):

You don’t see Inside Edge “‘Fs” much for Plate Discipline. But that’s where we were with Rosario last year. This was a top-five prospect who played in the majors last year at 21. He actually showed decent power and stole seven bags in 46 games, more impressive when your OBP is only .271. It’s more likely he hits higher in the lineup than Arcia does, because the Mets see Rosario as a future offensive cornerstone. He gives you the chance for a 15-25 HR-SB combo. The power is real according to everyone who has seen him take batting practice. Maybe Rosario is all tools, no toolbox. But, again, this is a free roll.

Dylan Bundy, Baltimore Orioles, Pitcher (261st):

I’m surprised he fell this far. I think you’ll have to be prepared to pay a much higher price. Everyone gives you the old, “Good pick!” when you grab Bundy. The league, team, division and park are not good. So the headwind is in your face versus say, Taillon. While Bundy is theoretically cheaper, he is a fly ball pitcher in a homer park in a homer era with homer balls. If you like Bundy, you can just pick him up at some point when he’s cut because he not at a level where he’s going to start the season without hiccups.

More Fantasy Baseball draft advice from Yahoo Sports

[veraliuphotographer-blog]

10 Tips for Successful Street Photography

The essence of street photography is about documenting everyday life and society on the streets. You can find opportunities to practice street photography everywhere and you don’t necessarily need to travel to capture great shots.

It’s a genre of photography usually done candidly without permission and without your subject’s knowledge. However, street photography doesn’t rule out staged pictures. You may spot an interesting character that catches your vision; you can wander up to strangers and ask for permission to take their picture. This is a great way to get a more intimate portrait of someone in his or her environment. The most important thing with street photography is to have fun and enjoy getting out with your camera. Remember, your goal is to capture emotion, humanity, and depict a person’s character. It takes time to get your shot, but with some practice and patience it is rewarding.

#1: Choosing the best lens

Deciding which lens to use is one of the most important factors for street photography. You may be tempted to use a telephoto lens, but that’s more than likely to result in more harm than good. You don’t want to be that creepy person standing across the road aiming a giant lens at strangers. If you want to look inconspicuous you’re going to need to get up close and among the action. Use a wide-angle lens and get lost in a busy crowd. Many street photographers choose a compact camera that’s less confronting than a large DSLR, the advantages being smaller, lightweight, and discreet.

#2: Camera settings

The quickest and easiest way to set up your camera for street photography is by switching the camera to AV (aperture-priority mode) and selecting your f-stop (aperture) and ISO manually. The camera will then decide the shutter speed (exposure). On a bright sunny day a good place to start is around f/16 with an ISO between 200-400. If your camera displays a shutter speed higher than 1/200th a second you are ready to roll.

Take note of the shutter speed your camera is reading and make adjustments to aperture and ISO accordingly. If your camera is giving you a shutter speed that is below 1/80th you run the risk of a blurred shot, but that could be used for good effect too. To overcome blur simply increase your ISO and/or choose a wider aperture. If you’re new to photography you can always set camera to P mode (program or auto) and let the camera select the correct settings. You can still adjust the EV if you want to over or under expose the shot to your liking.

This is useful if you are shooting run and gun (in a hurry with no time to think), but you have little control over what the camera is doing, so this isn’t always the best option. Program mode does a pretty decent job, but I wouldn’t rely on it in low light where there’s a high possibility your shutter speed will be too slow to freeze the action.

#3: Get close to your subjects

Using a wide-angle lens enables you to get nice and close to your subjects. The advantage of the wide angle gives the viewer a sense of being there in the moment. You’ll also blend in with the crowd as part of the environment, rather than standing out across the street with a long lens.

Many successful street photos were taken only few meters from the action and sometimes only centimeters away. Walking through a busy street, market or park can result in some rewarding pictures if you are observant and keep your eyes open for interesting subjects. If your images aren’t how you visualized them, then you may need to get closer, so use your feet as your zoom to be sure you’re in the right place at the right time.

#4: Take your camera everywhere

Street photography is spontaneous and waits for no one. It’s a discipline you must practice to make perfect. Your camera is an extension of yourself — it’s your gateway to sharing your vision with the world and you don’t want to miss an amazing photo opportunity by not having your camera on you. If you’re serious about street photography, you will have your camera within reach at all times.

This is known as the ‘decisive moment,’ where you have only a split second to capture your subject before it’s gone forever. You rarely get a second chance, so be prepared.

#5: Ignore the voice in your mind

Some people struggle with the idea of street photography. Some concerns may be the fear about your subjects getting angry because you took their picture, threaten you with physical violence, or even worse, call the police. Fear is simply false evidence appearing real. These are all common fears, but it’s possible to overcome by practicing and getting out more with your camera. Here are some suggestions to overcome your concerns.

Find an interesting spot to sit with your camera. I spend a lot of time at cafes and restaurants when I travel, my camera ready for any opportunities. Observing from a comfortable setting you’ll feel at ease and can wait for pictures to come to you. You are less likely to be noticed sitting outside a café with your camera than standing in the middle of the street.

Tune out and listen to your iPod while you are out walking with your camera. Music is somewhat of a distraction that can help relax and inspire creativity. It may not sound logical, but it works wonders, and if it means you’re comfortable in your surrounds then it’s worth a shot. (I don’t suggest doing this at night, in uncrowded or unfamiliar places! Always be aware of your surroundings.)

#6: Shoot from the hip

As a general rule of street photography, if you can get the shot with the camera to your eye, you will get a better shot. However, there are times when it’s not possible to raise the camera to your eye, and so shooting from the hip is a useful method of capturing a decisive moment.

When I first started shooting on the street I found it difficult holding my camera to my eye and pointing it towards strangers, so I started holding the camera by my hip to capture more candid pictures. At first I wasn’t successful, but the more familiar I became with my camera and the focal length I managed to capture some great candid moments.

#7: Shoot at night

Night photography in the city is a great opportunity for unique images. It’s not as easy as shooting during the day; you will need to be mindful of low shutters speeds to avoid blur and use your ISO and aperture to compensate for low light.

Take a tripod with you if you plan on doing long exposures. Alternatively, using a fast aperture lens will enable you to shoot low-light scenes and still freeze the action. When shooting at night try finding interesting lines, shadows and compositions to give the image a bold visual statement. Silhouetted subjects are interesting and can create nice compositions with the shadow filling the foreground.

#8: Think outside the box

Powerful ideas and emotions can be portrayed through the simplest of scenes. Most people wrongly associate street photography with people or portraits on the street. You don’t always need people in frame, or capturing interesting juxtapositions or fitting as many different people or objects into frame.

It may be difficult in some busy places, but take a walk down a quiet alleyway or side street and look for different subjects that interest you. There are infinite opportunities for all kinds of images with or without people.

While in Vietnam, I spent time wandering the streets photographing bicycles, which I have turned into a small series titled ‘Transportation’, that has been quite popular among the photo community. This was unintentional, but by doing something different I discovered a series that I may not have explored otherwise.

#9: Image quality isn’t everything

Some photographers may disagree with me here, but from my personal experience in shooting on the street, I haven’t been concerned with image quality as much as I am when shooting landscapes or commercial work. Yes, you should strive for high image quality when possible, but with street photography it’s not as important. In my opinion, composition, light, drama and the story you are trying to tell are of more important than image quality. If your images capture those four things, then you’re on the right path to becoming a great street shooter.

Sharpness, low noise and immaculate image quality are worthless if you have poor composition, bad light and no atmosphere to tell a story. Focus on what’s important — that’s essentially what makes a great street image.

#10: Most importantly, have fun

Like all genres of photography, it’s important to enjoy what you do and do what you enjoy. If shooting on the street doesn’t sound like your kind of thing, then chances are you’ll probably take ordinary images. Creativity flows where the passion lives, so do what makes you happy, not what other people expect to see. I love shooting street because it gets me out and about, meeting interesting people, and seeing everyday life from a fresh perspective. That’s what inspires me to do what I do.

Conclusion

Street photography requires practice and the more you get out there, the more your eye will develop and your confidence grow. The approach is much simpler than other genres and manipulation should be kept to the essentials, with minimal to no post-processing. The only manipulation I tend to do with my street photography is done through the camera viewfinder.

Perception and intuition are the most important factors. Perception requires a creative eye for detail and is an attentive effort. Intuition is immediate and is not duty-bound to any attentive reasoning. These two factors are combined to create the decisive moment, an amazing process that takes your images to the next level. Because of this process, it’s here in the moment that street photography is captured and expressed.

Strong street photos come from powerful ideas and emotions captured in a simplistic manner. It comes down to perception to force yourself out with your camera to capture decisive moments that unfold in front of you.