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A Magician and a Scholar (My MC and Asra)

(Bear with me, this is hella long. Word count 2,248. None of this is canon, I think I broke canon a little bit, this is just a dumb backstory I came up with for my Apprentice MC and Asra from The Arcana. The only canon things are the characters mentioned with the exception of my MC. Some of the dialogue might be OOC but I’m bad at writing, not much I can do there. Enjoy, maybe.)

In the dead of night, magic was always strongest. It was a fact known to all, there was no case to prove otherwise. The moon hung high above the city of Vesuvia, which, though still lively, also was washed through with a calming aura. There was little to fear now, but that wasn’t to say there was nothing to fear. A young girl of about 6 found shelter in a rundown building, surrounded by other shops closed for the night. She had nothing within the walls of the run-down shop she bought with money given to her by the Countess of Vesvuva, Nadia Satrinava, except for a thin fabric barely large enough to cover her petite, underweight frame and the spiders that quietly made their own homes at the window. It was quiet, peaceful even, but the girl could not sleep. Each time her eyes closed, she saw him. The man who held her captive for all those years, who paraded her like an animal for the amusement of the city and himself. The man who ruled the city she couldn’t escape from.

    Her body wished desperately for sleep, her eyelids drooped and her mind felt numb. Just as it finally seemed she would rest, a noise startled her awake. Someone was at the door. No. Someone opened the door. 

    She quickly and quietly rose to her feet, vertigo catching her off guard, causing her to stumble. When was the last time she ate? Had she even eaten since she arrived in this place? Where in Vesuvia was she? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now, all she knew was someone uninvited was roaming downstairs. 

    There was a sigh, followed by the sound of something softly landing on the ground. There was a cough, followed by someone speaking.

    “Well, this place certainly seems abandoned…” it was a male’s voice. Oh no…

    The girl felt her heart race. It was bad enough harboring someone in her only safe haven, but now knowing it was a male capable of overpowering her, every part of her trembled in terror. She didn’t know how to fight, she didn’t have anything to defend herself. If he found her, she was doomed.

    Carefully, she began to glide her bare feet across the wooden flooring, fearing if she lifted them off the ground, they would creak and reveal her hiding place. Her heart dropped when she heard a second, lighter, more wistful voice.

    “Asra! Intruder!

    “Huh? Faust, no one else is living here. Look at this place. It could really use some TLC.” The first voice, now labeled Asra, spoke. The girl heard footsteps approach the stairs that led to the second floor she was hiding in. “Maybe we can set up something upstairs…”

    She felt her whole body go cold at the thought. She had to act. Fast. Without a second thought, she rushed to hide behind a number of large crates that had been in the shop when she bought it. She heard the steps creak as the unwelcomed guest rose to the second floor.

    “I think it’ll work out nicely— hm? What’s this?” 

    Peering over the crates, the girl bit her lip to hold back any noise, her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t see all too well as it was, her eyes were anything but 20/20. If they were, she’d have caught sight of a svelte young male with a large, fluffy pile of cloud-like hair on his head, strands curled and swayed every which way. His clothes were mystifying, outlandish even, yet comfortable by the look of it. He was kneeling on the ground, lifting up the velvet fabric the girl used as a blanket. 

    “Huh…this is from the palace…”

    Before the girl could do anything else, a lavender snake popped up before her, glimmering red eyes piercing past the girl’s bangs and meeting hers. The snake’s tongue gave a gentle flick.

    “Found you!” the snake said happily, revealing to be the wistful voice from earlier. The male turned his head quickly, catching sight of the girl. Her heart stopped for a moment. This is it. She got caught. She was at his mercy now.

    He was just as stunned from the discovery as she was, but his startled expression turned to one of gentle kindness. He got up slowly, still holding the fabric in his hand.

    “Hello there. Is this yours?” he asked, holding the fabric out a little bit as he crouched to be at eye level with her. She didn’t respond.

    She couldn’t really tell what he was doing, he was closer now though, she was able to make out a little bit more of his silhouette. He noticed her silence and frowned a little.

“Can you…speak?” He asked, wondering if she was mute. This she responded to.


    Her voice had strained to even make it past her lips, her mouth had opened before the word could leave. It’s clear that she hadn’t spoken in a long time. He gave a small smile.

    “My name’s Asra. What’s yours?”

    Once again, the girl did not respond. Not because she didn’t want to, she just couldn’t quite remember. It was just on the tip of her tongue.

    “It’s ok, here, do you want this back?” Asra asked once more, referring to the velvet cloth in his hand. She gave a slow nod.

    He handed it over to her, only then realizing her bad sight when her outstretched hand reached a little too far to the left. He carefully took hold of her hand, not thinking anything of it, but quickly realized it was a mistake when she let out a sharp cry and tried to pull away from him. Asra let go of the girl, who now slunk behind the crates, holding where he had grasped her.

“I-I’m sorry— did it hurt?” He asked quickly, worried by her reaction. The girl was silent, confused now. Why was he asking if it hurt? Was he hoping it had? Was he hoping it hadn’t?

    She was now clinging to the velvet cloth, her bangs obscuring her eyes from Asra’s, which only made him more worried. The snake from earlier slithered to her, gently tapping her forehead to the girl’s arm, causing her to jump in surprise.

Scared friend.” The snake said, looking to Asra who frowned and nodded.

“I know Faust, she does seem scared. She shouldn’t be, I won’t hurt her, and you certainly won’t hurt her, right Faust?”

The snake labeled Faust looked to the girl, tongue sticking out, “Nope.”

The girl slowly relaxed, though still held the fabric securely. Her eyes darted to the blurred face of Asra after gazing upon the fuzzy noodle named Faust. Asra once again surprised her with another question.

“Do you know what magic is?” He asked her. She slightly perked up, nodding slowly. Asra smiled a bit.

“Do you like magic?” He asked. Once again, she nodded.

“Magic…is nice…it can be pretty…and it can do good things…” She said slowly.

Asra smiled more “Yes, yes it can. Would you like me to show you?” He offered gently.

The girl gave a long silence, thinking over his question. She was curious, but she was also worried. What if what he really meant was something different…something that would hurt her? He noticed her apprehension and spoke.

“I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to.” He told her. She looked to him, before finally nodding.

“Could you move your hair from your face, please?” He asked her. She hesitated for a moment before she reached up and pulled her bangs away, pushing the hair behind her ears, revealing eyes that swirled three different colors: blue, green, and gray. Asra stared into her eyes for a moment, mesmerized by them. He pulled himself from his trance and cupped his hands, pulling them apart before closing them together again. A faint, yellow glow came from his hands, and he opened them, revealing a pair of glasses. He carefully placed them on the girl’s face, fitting nearly perfectly. She gasped softly as her eyes darted all around the building, to Faust, then to Asra. 

“I-I…I can see…” She said in disbelief. Asra smiled at her, chuckling softly.

“Yeah, they’re glasses. They’re to help you see better.” He told her. He looked to her eyes again, realizing that behind the lenses, the swirl of colors in her eyes settled with being blue.

“Thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he told her gently. She gave a small nod.

Faust slithered into her lap, curling up and resting her head against the girl. Asra chuckled at the sight.

“I think she likes you.” The girl looked at him.

“I think so too,” she said with a small smile beginning to form. Asra felt his heart leap in his chest at the sight of something so pure. He looked around quickly, the sound of a stomach’s hungry growl reverberated off the stone walls.

“Was that me?” Asra asked as he looked down at himself.

The girl blushed deeply in embarrassment, hands slowly wrapping around her stomach. Asra looked to her and felt his heart shatter a bit, it was her stomach that growled so desperately.

“Hang on, I think I’ve still got some bread,” he said as he got up and went downstairs. He came back up with his messenger bag and sifted through it, pulling out a loaf of pumpkin bread wrapped up in parchment paper. He held it out for her. “Here, it’s still pretty warm.”

Savannah looked to the loaf, her mouth watered as the soft scent of pumpkin and assorted spices reached her nose. She slowly took it from Asra, hesitant not only because he was offering it to her, but because it seemed to be the only loaf he had.

“Are you sure I can have it?…” she asked him. “What if you get hungry…”

Asra shook his head, “take it, you need it more than I do right now, I can always get more.”

She gave a small nod and hesitantly rose it to her lips, slowly taking a small nibble. The nibbles turned to bites, which turned to whole chunks being stuffed in her mouth in seconds. The loaf was gone within the minute. Asra stared wide eyed as it happened, unable to hide the sadness in his eyes from the sight of how quickly she devoured the loaf.

“Good, huh? My favorite baker makes them.” Asra said, hiding his sadness with a close eyed smile. Savannah nodded her head quickly.

“I-It was delicious!—” She said quickly, cutting herself off quickly. Asra chuckled softly before his expression gently fell and he spoke.

“Where are your parents?” he asked. The girl looked away from him a bit, her bangs falling back over her eyes.

“I don’t remember…”

“They aren’t here with you?”

She shook her head. Asra frowned. 

“I see…I lost my parents when I was around your age too…” He said softly, no knowing if this was really the right thing to say.

It seemed to be though, she looked back up to meet his gaze, moving her bangs away, “Y-You did…?” she asked, surprised by the news. Asra nodded, a somber smile placed on his lips. 

“Yeah, maybe I was a little older though.” He said, “How old are you, do you remember?”

She nodded, how could she forget, the Red Market dealer constantly said it “I’m 6”. She said.

“I was a little older than 6.” He said gently. “You’re very brave to be here by yourself. Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“A little…”

“Well, why don’t we stick together from now on?” He asked gently. “I can take care of you, feed you, teach you magic if you’d like.”

The girl’s eyes widened a bit “You’ll teach me magic…?” She shook her head quickly “I-I couldn’t…I…I already know alchemy…”

Asra laughed softly “Really? That’s impressive! I can still teach you magic, in fact, you might be better at it because you know alchemy.” he praised kindly, causing the girl to blush gently.

“O-oh, ok…I’d like to learn…” She said softly, Asra’s smile reaching ear to ear. 

“Great!” He said happily, the girl returning a smaller smile. “Let’s get some sleep now, it’s pretty late.” He said as he carefully lifted Faust from her lap and laid her on top of the crate.

The girl nodded her head and brought the fabric up to cover herself, her legs exposed. 

Asra saw and tilted his head, “Hey, that’s not big enough to keep you warm…” He said slowly. She looked at him.

“It’s fine…”

He gave a small nod, not pressing further. He took off his multicolored coat and draped it over her, definitely covering her whole body.

She looked to it, then to him, confused. She said nothing as she saw him use his bad as a pillow. She laid her head down on the wooden floor and fell asleep slowly, feeling more at peace with Asra around.

Just before dawn, the girl woke up, holding onto Asra’s coat as she looked around. She carefully crawled over to Asra, who woke up slowly after, groaning groggily.


“Hm?” Asra hummed tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

“My name…” She said softly, “…It’s Savannah…”

He sat up and smiled brightly at her, “That’s a nice name. Do you know what it means?” He asked her. She nodded with a small smile and a gentle giggle. 

“It means ‘treeless plain’.”

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Lindsay so perfectly summarizes so much of what I felt at the end of GOT. My ramblings about inconsistencies rang true to most die hard GOT fans, but to more casual watchers, this better summarizes where the writers failed.

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Imagine being gifted, literally handed on a silver platter, the perfect opportunity for revenge and justice in a movie with Nebula finally getting to kill her abusive father who tortured her for years and deciding you have a BETTER option and you kill Tony Stark with a snap instead. A man with very few ties to Thanos as a villain and who really could have been killed off any other way.


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I’m sorry I can’t be there in person. I’ll join you again

someday. Just stay safe and hang on until I can get things

straightened out here.

Love always, Gaia

Chapter 23 summary: Gaia writes an email to this D person. She’s apparently known him for a long time now, except that he’s literally never been mentioned. (Although, for what it’s worth, this entire series has taken place over the course of less than a year. {Let that sink in.})

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I want to break the concrete. 


I want to kiss your face, first.


I want to pour cement over my fist as it sits inside yours.


I want to play Agnes on my drive to you, on repeat, like I did last time. 

I’ll drive slow enough to keep safe the deer and frogs and o’possums crossing, and I’ll drive just fast enough to still be late. 

But maybe an acceptable level of late.  

I’m sorry I’m always late.


Maybe I won’t be this time.


Maybe I’ll pour in like a cool breeze and wake you up, make you laugh, make you feel something new.


I want to press a thousand words into your ears and have them all mean the same thing.


I want your heart to drop when you hear me say your name, because it is candied in my breath and you’ve suddenly got the biggest sweet tooth.


I want to know you. Know you know-you.

I want you to know me. Know-me know me. 


I want you to feel listened to.

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I wanted to show you guys some of the shit I used to write, because I feel like you could do with some laughs. Unfortunately, I burned all my original works written at age seven in the last bonfire we had (and I’m not sorry) so instead, I’ll be treating you to some of the shitty warrior cats fanfiction I wrote aged ten!

…I’m going to regret this later…

Prologue; an excerpt

…The first cat spoke up. “No trouble has come for our clans. We can foresee none, and there is none now. The clans are at peace.” (As you can see, my fanfiction was really plot driven).

“But what of these cats that have the blood of every Clan? That is sure to cause trouble.” (Looking back on this, I just want to know which cat went and fell in love with cats from every single fucking Clan… probably a ThunderClan…)

“As I said before, Shadow, there has been none foreseen.”

“But Thunder!” Shadow’s voice rose to a high wail. “How can you tell that you did not look properly?!” (Look at this clever foreshadowing, I was a genius, a master of words-)

“Shadow is right, Thunder. Anything could rise out of the darkness and swarm around the Clans.” The third cat agreed.

The fourth and final cat spoke up. “Shadow and River are right, Thunder.” (Repetitive dialogue? Me? Never…) “There are always troubles for the Clans.” (We have become self aware apparently).

“I admit I was wrong, Wind.” Thunder said. “There will always be cold, hard leaf-bares. Always badgers and foxes. We just need to know how to survive them.”

“Let the Clans remain strong! Let new kits be born! Let them thrive!” River yowled.

Together, River, Thunder, Shadow and Wind left the clearing and went to StarClan camp… (I’m gonna cut out this part here, becaue it’s really long and it’s just talking about how nothing bad will ever happen again) …Suddenly, ten cats came in. (Just like that?)

“We think we have a right to be here!” One said. “We are Clan leaders. We believe we have a deal to make.”

“Our names are Forest, Lightning, Sun, Moon, Light, Dark, Ocean, Mountain and Sky.” Said one.

“Sky,” Thunder murmured. “Sky! Where is sky?!” He yowled. “I know you,” He said to Sky,

“Yes,” She replied. “We are the Lost Clans.”

So? Would you read it (I’m dying of laughter here).

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The term “bad writing” gets thrown around when the reality is that it’s not bad writing, you just didn’t like it.

The Prequels gave Anakin Skywalker a backstory and fleshed out characterization beyond the mask of Darth Vader and made people think of him as a hero and made them care about what happens to him? Bad writing.

Tony Stark’s story is not that of a typical hero, but is instead the story of a man who discovered that he made a mistake and, having never had to face consequences before, has no idea what he’s doing and so his attempts at reinventing himself and becoming a hero go increasingly wrong when left to his own devices? Bad writing.

Daenerys’ sense of right and wrong and what she’s entitiled to and what she isn’t is scewed because of her history as the daughter of a rightfully deposed dynasty, and continues to be scewed as she conquers but never rules and is validated by people encouraging her along this path to take back the throne, until it twists her into becoming the very thing she swore she wouldn’t be? Well, it didn’t start out as bad writing, at any rate.

Bad writing is giving a character a backstory that does not inform their decisions as they go forward. Anakin’s backstory of slavery, being ripped away from his mother, freeing himself (but not really, see my comments on the treatment of Jedi by the Republic), having his mother die a brutal, horrible death in his arms, informs how he goes into being Darth Vader. An example of bad writing in a backstory: ???? I’m still thinking. It’s rare to find a character whose backstory does not inform their actions and interactions outside of fanfiction, mostly because that’s what the story is based on, usually.

Bad writing is when a character, a main character, doesn’t develop at all. Remember: backwards development is still development. A character who tries to change and fails is still development. An example of no development: Katniss. Susanne Collins’ attempts to not put Katniss in a situation where she would have to directly kill someone, despite that being the set up of the story, were, frankly, ridiculous. Katniss was the same person when she left the arena as when she went in, but, oh! We’ve gained a romance? It would have been amazing to see Katniss develop psychologically to be a killer, perhaps dissociating by thinking of the others as animals - because she does have a background as a hunter - and justifying all her actions as “they’re making me/have to get back to Prim, etc.” But we don’t get that. (Disclaimer: I’m only going off the first book, because that’s the only one I read.)

Bad writing is when a character does an about-face turn with no apparent lead up. Example: Thorin in the Hobbit movies. There were so many oppurtunities to show him having the potential to fall, or slowly falling to the Goldsickness the closer they got to Erebor, or even showing the progression once they got to Erebor. Instead there was a convenient time skip and by the time Fili and Kili got to the mountain, Thorin was in full Goldsickness mode without even a hint of it beforehand.

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 I really needed a break from the hot mess that is “The Awakening of Europe”, so now I’ve come to a well-despised staple of this blog: A reader insert! Yay! 

This is fairly short, but that doesn’t mean there’s any shortage of bad writing. So, please, enjoy!

Keep reading

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According to the time-stamp on this file, I screencapped and wrote the red text on it on 5/12.

Anyway, this just shows how shamelessly Crapcom wastes characters because they suck at storytelling.

In 4 and in 5, they didn’t even use characters that were already THERE, like Trish & Lady. They’re reduced to boring side characters who just say a few lines of dialogue and we never see them do anything cool.

It sucks.

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I’ve Come to a Realization

2019 has made me into a cynic. Between Game of Thrones, Godzilla: KOTM, and The Lion King remake, I’ve been reduced to the walker bearing Granny yelling at uninspired hack writers to get off my lawn.

And no, it’s not fun being negative. Everyone else has no issues with what’s been happening in media, and I’m the ass that’s smoking in the corner looking like a tired Ben Affleck.

(Except Game of Thrones. Everyone hates how that ended.)

But hey, now I can use this gif unironically.


Originally posted by wayward-naiad

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People who actually watch Riverdale, like, regularly, is this not how the teenagers on that show talk:


In fact, is this not how the writing is on that show in general?

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