#at its core its still has consumers in mind like to some thats all it just the next anime on my watchlist

[cultivatingyourfuture]

after hearing the pitch on your main blog, and scrolling far enough to see the tags you were putting on some posts, i am very intrigued about the everything that is going on (especially with emily) so could i get a brief rundown of the everything pls n thanks you

i spent forever trying to figure out how to tell a "brief" version of this story and this is how i settled on doing it. keep in mind this is the brief version and if you want in depth explanations/analysis on specific parts of the story i IMPLORE you to ask me about it because there is just no way for me to say everything i want to here and I STILL had to omit some details for brevitys sake. ok

content warnings: death. physical abuse. emotional abuse. verbal abuse. violence. implications of sexism. implications of misogyny. body horror. child death. child endangerment. talk of drug addiction. talk of alcoholism. obsession. stalking. kidnapping.

two fucked up siblings [paige jensen, pierre jensen] make a company (regrowth) and make cyborgs about it. first one they make runs away but the data they're still getting from it reveals their tech works like.. extraordinarily well with plant life? they build a tech empire off of this idea. they continue making cyborgs as well but the brother has so much guilt about the first go round he refuses any part in it (but still allows it to happen. his sister is the only reason he has any semblance of power, after all.) the sister continues running new experiments regarding combat and medicine and anti-aging and etc etc with her technology on a variety of subjects-- some willing, some unwilling, some already dead before they could say something either way. notable cases include toni finnigan, a terminally ill woman who engages with the project as a last resort and considers herself indebted to the siblings as a result; neil marshall, a young boy who accidentally saw the siblings first attempt to procure that first subject which went horribly ary and got the wrong guy (who was neils father); emily jyung, the scientist overseeing much of the cyborg testing at paiges discretion who decides she can't live with what she's done and seen and submits herself to the process in order to find atonement; holly pendleton, a girl who signed up for a very simple consumer test, took a wrong turn, and found paige jensen elbow deep in some poor guys chest cavity; and vallen rosamel, an addict and thief who makes the great decision of trying to hit on pierre jensen on absolutely the wrong night. pierres inferiority complex keeps him where he is in his position of power even though the weight of the cyborg project and his involvement is slowly crushing him and paiges fear of failure has her spending more and more time on it in a desperate attempt to make something of herself since pierre (charismatic. likeable. dude) gets all the credit for her (brash. awkward. woman) innovations.

meanwhile in like........ summer 2000 that first runaway cyborg falls into the backyard of this scientist with a really bad caretaker complex named francesca (i never call her francesca/frankie tbh i call her fizzle) who sees this thing with cracked glowing eyes and vines crawling out of its arms and goes oh. okay. and takes it in and starts fixing it up-- culling the plant that's affixed itself to this person's core and repairing the technology and finally fitting a voicebox onto it because it can't speak. this person(?) then relays that it has no idea who it is or where they came from, just that there were two people and this impending sense that they needed to leave, now. because of their lack of memories, they decide on a new name for them and they choosd Cherry, after the type of plant thats now in their systems. cherry uses he/she/they pronouns because fizzle (trans woman) asks him about it and she's like Oh. Um. Good question. Let's... find out? and so they use all pronouns and then never change that because those work well enough.

cherry adjusts well enough but they're really frustrated with their lack of memories because they don't even know if they consented to the process or not, they don't know if they had a family, they don't know what they left behind and what's waiting for them or who's looking (side note-- the only thing that feels any bit of familar are songs. something something foreshadowing something something playlist thats a work in progress). it doesn't help that the time they spent between escaping and coming across fizzle consisted of a lot of people being terrified of them and looking to hurt them (one guy literally shoots them like?? two days before they find fizzle????) so she's got this crushing sense that she's missing a fundamental part of herself that makes her able to be """human"""-- or, at least, accepted by humans. and she decides that whatever that is was probably lost along with her memories. so that really bothers them.

anyways a good bit of time passes and then they start picking up this high pitched frequency and fizzle can't fix it nor figure out the source of it so cherry just has to deal with Robot Tinnitus for a little bit. but they figure out that the frequency changes depending on how far / close they get to... whatever the hell the source is. so they wait till dark and they go out and Follow It, and it lands them at this dingy little nightclub juuust in time to watch someone stagger into the alleyway holding their head like they're in pain. or maybe hearing something very very loud. so cherry slowly approaches as the frequency gets louder and louder and more painful and boop! connection found.

the person she's founds name is vallen rosamel and shit has been WEIRD for him as of late. his hair started growing in a different color about four months ago the plants do that just roll with it, all of the substances he was taking just quit working one day, and theyre having longer and longer gaps in their memory every day. and now there's this SCREAMING in their EARS and oh my god. who the fuck are YOU. so after a lot of confusion and a lot of gentle explaining they figure out that vallens the same thing cherry is. which begs a LOT of fucking questions like What's up with that frequency. Who is making them. How is he just out and about. which are all very very important questions but cherry is so excited to FINALLY FIND SOMEONE LIKE THEM that they forget that for a little bit lmao. but cherry convinces vallen to let their friend do a couple of tests (which are very limited. bc the kind of plant vallens got is a citrus fruit and fizzle has a citrus allergy lmao) and what they figure out is that while cherrys got... like... a fourth of a human brain and LED eyes and cybernetic legs and a cybernetic arm and no digestive system and oh yeah NO MEMORIES, vallens got like. some brain, eye, and digestive modifications. and that's about it. the only thing he can't remember are those aforementioned memory gaps as well as however they came about being a cyborg too. sorry cherry but you haven't exactly found someone like you :( and vallen is like okay I want nothing to do with this. no ones gonna fuckin believe me so i may as well just try to live my life the way i have been (spoilers: that life's not good!) and cherry kind of talks to him for a bit. says she understands how confusing and frustrating it all is. but is also like Man you are my ONE HOPE of figuring out what happened to me can you even just CONSIDER sticking around just long enough for me to know you can't tell me anything new. and vallens like ff. fine. anyways that turns into 1 to three years I haven't decided yet. vallen and cherry (and fizzle) are kind of gay about it. it's fine don't worry about that.

anyways eventually Shit Goes Down. vallen gets activated by some other force, stops responding whatsoever, knocks cherry the fuck out and takes fizzle down too when she tries to stop them. all three of them end up in regrowth. uh oh.

cherry gets confronted by paige who has this whole speech but the basics of it are:

-she purposefully sent vallen out into the world in an attempt to find cherry. was going to just kill them originally but decided to let them linger in case she could ever Use Them for her own purposes and apparently that time has come

-never took direct control of vallen-- any connections they've made with him are more than likely genuine because paige can't handle social manipulation like her brother can-- but she was certainly keeping tabs and certainly knows a couple of things even if she doesn't say it directly (like the fact she's calling cherry 'cherry' and not. whatever his name was before. hm.)

-apparently paige has discovered some shit about pierre that 1. she thinks will DEFINITELY bring cherry onto her side and 2. has made her decide that pierre has to go NOW

-"you can either help me or ill just kill you/wipe your memories and return you to testing" and "you can either get revenge on one of us or lose to both of us" as her main points

cherry is having none of this. breaks the fuck out of her containment and runs rampant through the facility, breaking shit, knocking people out, runs into pierre at one point who just stares at her and calls him a name that........... isnt "Cherry" before she just sprints the hell away, up until he 1. locks himself in an old lab, 2. modifies her cybernetic arm by hand to attach a blaster weapon onto it (painful), and 3. escapes into a vent and finds himself in all the backparts of the facility. ends up seeing more cyborgs during testing and is like Holy shit how many people have they done this to. these people need to go home.

keeping this part brief bc the rest of this will also.... not be. I promise I'm telling the brief version here. cherry finds vallen (has to fight him. doesn't want to. does it anyway.) and gets him out of paiges control via dropping a fucking light fixture on him and shortcircuting him a bit. they find fizzle. they go from the lower parts of the facility where the projects been held up to the company building bc they figure out the servers are there and if Cherry can get into those she can find the other bots' memories (and hopefully enough info to incriminate regrowth?), free those, and get them out of there. they get up there and the buildings been evacuated which makes finding the servers much easier. cherry parses the information and also figures out her memories aren't there + her file is mostly redacted. but theres that name again! the one pierre called him!! and if the memories aren't there then. where are they.

sorry no time to dwell on that bc more cyborgs attack! cherry, fizzle, vallen get them their memories back which overwrites their protocols. good news; thats all the active cyborgs left in the building (gonna give u names right quick-- holly (foxglove), mara (hellebore), enzo (chestnut) ) cherry is like we gotta find you guys an exit. as they do so cherry comes across pierres office and is like......... hey. yall go ahead. i need to. check something. fizzle and vallen are like 🤨 but they're like okay. please be careful. and they Go.

this is the part of the story where I advise you to look at the content warnings up above very carefully

so cherry goes into pierres office and starts rummaging around, looking under placemats and taking apart photo frames n stuff, looking to the password to his computer. she finds some stuff-- other passwords, checks, an image of a girl?, but eventually she just says "fuck it," plugs into it, breaks through the password screen, looks through the files and THATS where she finds her memories. finally. after all this time.

so cherry hides under the desk and downloads all of it. all at once. don't worry about that too much right now but this is a disorienting, horrifying experience for cherry to say the least. and as if the memories themselves aren't bad enough cherry is like... why did he know that name but paige didn't. why were they on his computer. why... was a picture of me... behind one of the photo frames.... on his desk .......

and then the door creaks. and pierre sees them. and explains his side of things. we'll revisit that in a bit. so cherry is horrified and is very much ready to murder pierre. and she, uh. does. she chases him down the hall (because of course he runs. of course.), points her blaster at his head, and fires. she just kills him.

and then, because he's still pissed and terrified, he goes to find paige. paige deploys another cyborg (kudzu; dead body that paige essentially pilots and therefore not considered an "active" cyborg). cherry kills that too (lot easier when youre not trying to keep them alive). cherry finds paige. they talk. they fight. beat the shit out of each other. cherry aims and is ready to kill but realizes that's what paige wants. says she'd rather her be alive for every moment people realize what she's done. lets her go. paige watches him walk away, then gathers juuust enough strength to enter a few more commands into her main console, then collapses.

cherry, while trying to leave the building, is then confronted by a previously "retired" (see: shut down and locked up for years) cyborg, neil (lemon). cherry is horrified to see him-- so horrified, in fact, that she doesn't do anything when he approaches and impales her through the stomach with a blade built into his arms. she drops, and he walks away.

cherry then crawls her way back to the regrowth server room, plugs herself into the system, and uploads her consciousness in a last desperate bid to stay alive. they are found by fizzle and vallen later. reporters and police swarm the building, and they retrieve lemon, having found him curled up in an alcove in the wall of the main trial area for the cyborg project. paige jensen is arrested, cherrys body is retrieved to be repaired by fizzle, and regrowth is no more.

... so. ok. let's take several steps back and fill in some gaps here.

eveline ethel woode grew up in the same town paige and pierre jensen moved to when pierre was about 2 and paige was 10. daughter of a textile ceo and an ex movie starlet, she was very much under her parents thumb. her mother blamed eveline for ruining her career, since she wouldn't have had to have left the business had she never gotten pregnant, and her father's anger at the most likely heir to his company being a woman combined with his own alcoholism led to a lot of physical abuse that left eveline with a permanent limp and a broken nose. this treatment broke eveline woode to her very core. which went almost entirely unnoticed (or at least uncared for) by everyone except for one pierre jensen. because pierre-- pierre was not only perceptive (how else are you going to figure out what makes people like you?), but he was going through something similar to eveline. do you know how comforting that can be, to know you're not the only one? to see someone suffering the same way you are? neither of them deserved that. neither of them deserved to be alone in this. pierre, slowly, fixates on the idea of getting eveline out of her situation-- on saving them both. and maybe, just maybe, he'd finally find someone he wouldn't have to pretend for anymore. maybe he'd finally have a solution to how fucking alone he was, maybe he'd,

and then eveline Leaves. at the age of 16, she pulls the strings to get herself a cheap little rented home for the next year in a town far the hell away that has enough of a reputation of being where no one wants to go, and she leaves. and this... isnt how things were supposed to go for pierre. she was supposed to leave with him. she was supposed to be HIS escape, not her own. this isn't the way things were supposed to go, just who the hell does she think she is, taking his ONE CHANCE of happiness away? it's like she doesn't even care what--

eveline woode lands in a foggy little town in georgia and things are okay. she always loved flowers, and there's enough actual air in the sky here to let them grow. she's as alone and isolated as she's always been, and that emptiness never quite goes away, but at least she's safe now.

anyways, whatever funds she was able to scramble together from her parents isnt going to last forever, so she picks up some odd jobs and through that ends up meeting this guy named scott. scott is a father of two and he's been through some similar shit to eveline so he Notices The Behaviors (and she's about the same age as his daughter which makes him worry about her MORE) (also Why is a seventeen year old living on her own in this shitty town thats worrisome on its own) and slowly eveline starts to become a good family friend of theirs. she babysits his son, housesits, shes invited to things-- anything to make her feel welcomed and loved. which is... not anything eveline is used to. she tries to not think about it, considers it as just doing her job and doing what's right but like. she loves the marshalls. and they consider her as much of family as they can. mason, scotts daughter, fills her in on pop culture and his wife gives her gardening and baking tips and he shows her music he loves from his record collection (and she starts a small one of her own, too!) and theyre Happy. eveline woode is happy.

anyways meanwhile paige jensen is relaying to her brother about her New Ideas for cybernetically enhanced people and how hard it's going to be to find a volunteer willing or otherwise and pierres like ".... otherwise??" and paige is like Oh. I mean. we couldn't do that. i mean, it'd have to be somebody NO ONE cared about that NO ONE ever notices that has NO CONNECTIONS and NO and pierre sees an Opportunity here. and he suggests a target. because she can't be doing that well for herself anyways, right? not without him there. paige has already perfected memory transfers; all he'd have to do is modify them a little and then everything would be the way it was supposed to be. maybe it's a little grotesque, maybe it's immoral, maybe it's too far, but it'd be worth it in the long run. it'd be fine. it'd be fine. it'd be f

pierre finds eveline, follows her for a few weeks, figures out a path she takes at a certain time in the night that's just secluded enough for him to grab her and leave (besides. bad town. lotsa police reports go unchecked. this Can't Go Wrong)

it goes wrong. someone rounds the corner and pierre goes to hit them over the head and realizes it's a man. but the guy gets spooked and falls ass backwards and impales himself on a fence which was NOTTHEFUCKINGPLANHOLYSHIT. and to make matters worse, the guys son rounds the corner too and at 12 years old neil marshall watches his father scott die and gets a good look at pierre jensens face in the process.

so. scott dies. eveline thinks of it as some divine punishment for anything good happening to her. returns to her self isolating ways. the marshalls never see her again. December 18th 1999 pierre jensen goes to her home directly, knocks her out, and drags her away. it's not until december 24th that anyone realizes she's gone and by then there's not many leads besides some missing items, a broken window in the door, and her own blood.

so when subject 0 runs away and pierre is also faced with an ultimatum of kill a 12 year old or submit him to the same fate as his sister that's kind of when he realizes that umm. uh. maybe this was a bad idea actually. because the ONE THING he was in it for is gone and, as far as he knows, dead. but his face is on magazines and he's catapulted into popularity and he has a company to run, doesn't he? and after so long of feeling powerless, of feeling like nothing, can he really bear to give that power up?

so. additional things. neil marshall gets his memories back and ends up spending a lot of time waiting for cherry to get repaired and wake up because he needs to tell eveline he's sorry and that he misses her and also that he's sorry. fizzle and vallen kind of get the fill about eveline from neil bc the poor kids gotta talk through this shit good god. cherry gets repaired and is functional, hypothetically, but she still doesn't wake up.

so from the database he's still in, cherry is the one sending out information about the story. there's this desperation to understand why they're here and how things ended up like this and to make people know what happened to them. what happened to eveline. because cherry has lived their own life with their own experiences that have shaped her own ideologies and attitudes and shes.... not.... eveline. not anymore, anyway. and this crushes them in so many ways because things were getting so much better for eveline for such a long while there and SHES the one who deserves the friends and the family and the revenge and the peace of mind but she DOESNT GET IT. she'll never get it, because cherrys the one who gets it. because eveline woode died on december 18th 1999 and cherry is what has grown through the gaps like an infection and how much of her is even left there, really? something something commentary about haunting the narrative and being considered less of a character and more as a motivation when you always deserved better from the narrative you were stuck into.

anyways. cherry does eventually get back into their body, reconciles with the fact that eveline is not her humanity and that maybe he never was human and that's okay because it's him and that's all that matters, continues to have turmoil about it but it's. fine. rough reconciliation with the marshalls because he's not eveline but they deserve to see eveline alive again so here he is. cherry pushes on and values the life he has and can only hope that that can in some way grant evelines memory peace.

anyways cherry would be 43 years old today and i think he owns a record/head shop and still goes to therapy once a week send fucking tweet

#AUGH. ok. #sorrhy i didnt get a lot of emily in there she kind of. deserves her own post. hope this answers your question! 👍 #asks #rosanqro #story tag #meta tag #horror tag #um. things i forgor #pierre doesnt modify evies memories out of guilt but still keeps them bc hes a freak #vallen is an exception to pierres 'i want no part in this' thing bc he was a spur of the moment decision made after a pretty- #bad fucking fight between him and paige so. vallen was. an apology specimen. which should tell you everything you need to know- #about paige and pierres dynamic #cherrys last name is shears because he only has songs to go off of and shears is taken from Sgt. Peppers / With A Little Help by tha beaduls #neils sisters name is mason his moms names amy. evies parents names are warren and ethyl. i have never named the jensens parent(s) #vallen has csb / hypersexuality disorder because some Shit Happened To Him which led them down the path theyre on #vallen uses he/they. eveline dies at 19 and cherrys either 27 or 29 when they storm regrowth (vallens three years younger than them. #they met in their mid twenties. chill) #pierre and evie/cherry are the same age (evie born in late 80 pierre in early 81) #emily is their most senior employee who was literally their very first hire ever #cherrys blaster arm can turn back to a normal arm at will + their right arm is exposed cybernetics while their left arm is completely human #cherrys also got exposed cybernetics on their left calf but its basically just a prosthetic that isnt supposed to come off #neil is taken in at 13 and then around the time hes 15 hes shut down and put up and just Stays Like That for 5+ years #so the last time he saw evie she was 19 and when he meets cherry theyre about 29. to give you an idea of how jarring this all is for it

[muffin-artz3]

Newbies' Trigun Stampede/98/Maximum Analysis

To start off I was introduced to Trigun by fanart on Pinterest while looking for art inspiration. So thank you to all the fandom artists!! I'm not really into anime too much, so this has been the first anime thats had my attention in a long while.

I began this series by watching up to episode 3 of Stampede and then decided "I can't wait, I must consume".

Immediately watched the high trip that is Tri98 and then came the heart crushing Maximum. Also have to thank @genkooii for the link to the proper translation to Maximum. Here is the link to that post if anyone wants to read as well.

I'm really happy with the way I followed the series and love it so much. Each version having its own charm and still keeping Vash's core at heart. But there are differences and somethings i find that were done better than others. I'll give my feelings for each first and then compare them.

Begining with the first 3 episodes of Stampede The animation was new and interesting. I didn't know about the hate for CGI until later on. I agree that it does look different, but I quite like the potential it has. Its beautiful in its own right. For story, I have to admit even as a newbie, the pacing was rough for me. I realized this after Vash saved Jenora (again) barely had time to breathe and then EG Mine shows up. (I learned later that I stopped just before things ramped up even more) I like tragedy, but subtlety goes a long way. Will come back to Stampede again further down.

Next is the OG Trigun 98 anime. I didn't realize how much I missed the 90s anime aesthetic?? There's just something about it. Even though it is dated in appearance, there are some great frames and angles this anime had that just makes it so intense!! This version did have fillers, but I felt like they weren't out of place. I have to admit here that I have a bias for this version. I grew up as a Fallout New Vegas fan, and this just gives me the same vibes. The questioning of morality with no real defined answer? How people struggled to survive and how fucking wacky they were!??? All while the protag is basically a wandering gunslinger/cowboy. Loved it. Gotta have those spurs that jingle jangle jingle, while having an existential crisis.

And here we are at Maximum.. man, words can't even describe how Stamp and Tri98 didn't prepare me for this at all. It's like that hair-clutching-hysterical-crying that settles into soft calm laugher and happy tears. It was really painful, those tough and tender pages i read... I loved it. This version does have a combination of both the above. And Stamp is more based on this version. But the pacing, while quick, had the subtlety I craved. The action was cool and interesting, but i now understand why it was said as "hard to follow". It can get a bit confusing. Overall, I ate this manga up when I definitely should have been studying, haha!

I actually went back to Tri98 after Max and definitely felt the differences between them. It was a bit surreal. Had to separate the two in my mind, but I still love them both.

Return of the Stamp! Now having finished all prior media, I looked at Stampede with new eyes. I'm glad I waited because I binge watched the episodes. I definitely understand why older fans were concerned, but this was my original, and I am going to stick by Stamp's side for as long as I can. Hmm how to describe how I feel now that season 1 has ended... this Trigun is in neutral for me right now. Though the animation is enough to make me go bonkers over the expressions and lighting, it's not enough for me to say it's outrageously good storytelling wise. But it does convey emotions well when it wants too. And they are definitely setting the stage up for Vash and more trimax story. I'm eager to see the results. I enjoy it overall. Season 2 will truly decide for me.

Okay here is the comparison part and will likely contain SPOILERS

Pacing

Stamp- as I mentioned much too quick but hopefully since this prequel season is over they will have more time to space out the story a bit

98- quite like this pacing. Has world building and mystery towards Vash for the first half. Makes it intriguing. The later half does go by quicker. Plants are hardly mentioned or explained.

Max- always in motion. Only in the first OG(prequel?) Trigun manga is there filler, which is what Tri98 is based more off of. But also this filler still had meaning and made you think.

Character relastionships/Interactions

Stamp- very little, Meryl is basically the only one who develops with Roberto and a tiny bit with Vash at the very end of the season.

I feel like something was lost between Wolfwood and Vash in this version. Woodwold being cold and Vash saying he looks kind, if you haven't seen the other media it's nice. Technically, there's nothing wrong with it. But i now see this is one of the tropes older fans complain about. It lacks the depth the 98 anime, and Trimax WW and Vash had. It gets straight to the point but loses a sort of dynamic. This anime didn't have the luxury of time I suppose. I don't hate wolfwood here. How could I? When he made such a soft expression at Livio. He still has that need to protect and thats what really matters.

98- another reason I like Tri98 is because they actually had the characters interact more. Meryl and Milly came to see Vash more and more and understand, he isn't at all what they or others thought he was. They had more time to be inspired by him. Meryl is definitely more aggressive and very direct. I don't hate this version. It's a straight man to Vashes over exaggerated goofiness. For the anime it works but I hate that for how abservent she is, that she really couldn't see Vash as the stampede?? Kind dumb but it's a wacky show, had to have a sillier vibe.

WW I like how they are actually friendly to each other at first. When the person who made you smile/soften up, has a harshly contrasting moral view to your own, it creates a certain sort of tension. Loved Vashs and WW friendship here. His death was kinda sadder since he died feeling like he didnt acomplish much. Vash's moment of breaking down while eating donuts was heart-wrenching . Also Vash using the Punisher vs Knives, such a good scene!!!

I actually really like Milly and Wolfwood together. It's cute. Millys more capable then I thought. Love her.

Max- Meryl and Milly have much less time with Vash. I do like how they are inspired by him still, but they only come around every so often to say a baller couple of lines than they dip. Don't get me wrong, I understand why, and I love how they are the representation of the good in humans, but they no longer feel as close. Which is saying something because 98 Vash was still a really distant dude. It just feels like the gap between them and Vash is more apparent. But they also had a really big issue at hand, so understandable. When Vash is called out for not letting them help more, he acknowledges that he can't afford to think about it at the moment. These characters were still great on their own.

WW- by far the only real human relationship Vash has ever had. And I don't mean in the romantic sense, but a sense of actually getting to know someone on a personal level despite their tense differences. Learning, inspiring each other while opposing each other. To have faith in someone. Vash is either on a pedestal or on trial when around most humans and I like that WW brings him down to his level. In the worst and best ways, he makes Vash truly human. I thought his death in the anime was painful but this was so much worse.

Livio and Vash bounding over their lost of WW will always get to me. The spaghetti scene. T_T Glad that Vash has another companion that could help in the physical fighting to come. Livio vs Elendria was a great!!. Liked how Livio was a combination of WW and Vash. A surprise break out character for me.

Does it make you think?

Stamp- Kinda spoon feed the tropes to you. I don't expect this to happen in the 2nd season. You could feel the subtle messages in the last few episodes of the season. I feel like they are done being overly flashy, time for the thick sauce of you-gotta-think-about-this-now.

98- despite it being so much like an abridge series, the episodes do make you think. Thats whats so good about it. The unsuspecting "here is haha funny man, now think about the uselessness of being good in this world". Love the episode with the rich girl and her criminal dad. Shows her position like most humas on Gunsmoke/no man's land. Moral grey kinda thing? That the world they live in isn't simply black and white.

Max- better dust off the old noggin and soak it in your tears.

Sadness

Maximum wins. IWANTHIMTOGETAHUGANDATHANKYOUANDAND---'

Stamp close second might surpass Maxs trauma in time. Who knows.

98- Someone mentioned that this Vash isn't suicidal. That is how low the bar is to make him the happiest of all the Vashes. Technically, he also got the best ending, for now, at least.

Knives

Stamp- oh no.. hes hot...and they definitely made him more intimidating than 98. Coming back to episode 4 was a thrill ride, but this version of Knives is very yandere. He does care for Vash but very manipulative and narcissistic. Gaslighting galore. I kinda understand it because of the manga now, but the whole pregnant plants and all that really puts this Knives on the less redeemable scale. His piano theme is amazing tho!!

98- barely there, the ending fight was cool, and I enjoyed it a lot. I did still like him in this version, but it had a lukewarm water kinda feel. The lesser of all the knives.

Max- the great thing about Maximum is that it shows so much depth to the story that i knew before, and to Knives. How sad and alone he really his. How his intentions are really just to save his kind from a threat that broke his mind with their cruelty. I don't disagree with him, actually. What he saw l, what humans do, does go toe to toe with Vash's optimistic. Knives is so human compared to Vash in my opinion. It's kinda odd and so poetic. Also when the plant hivemind was ripped away from him, I felt sad. He was alone again. Still wrong for him to obsorb his siblings tho...

VASH the man the myth the lengend

Stamp - Hmm, this has Trimax Vash attitude, but more on the meek side. My first impression was that he was a cute and kinda like a kicked puppy. I want to pat his head. In this version I wasn't thrown off by him being an all loving protagonist he just had the vibe off the start. Watching him in the later episodes did make me tear up. He's so soft and does have that tenderness that all Vashs' have. A cinnamon roll, too pure to good for this world.

98- he uses his smile as a sheild and plays it off better than the other Vashes, but his pain is still there. He is also pathetic, in a loving way lol. Before getting to know his story, i thought he was crazy. I was like every other character that he met. I didn't understand his struggle. I just saw the crazy man who made things difficult by choosing to avoid killing. Him getting serious and holding fast to his beliefs amazed and stunned me. Had me step back and see his point of view. Highly respect his willpower. However I don't entirely agree with him. Which many have pointed out thats the point of Vash. He is also much more confident and sly than Stamp Vash. Which is weird because it makes him seem more experienced and I think Stamp is older? He manages to use his pervy and over the top silliness to disarm people and get the advantage in most situations. He's smarter than he looks. I enjoyed the ending for this Vash, because it touches on his moral code after having to kill Legato. Him finally looking forward to the future without Rem being the main focus to his life and decisions. There wasn't enough time in Trimax and I would have liked some pages on it. But he was a bit busy saving the planet... He may be louder than the other Vash's but he still strives for a world that is made of ----- LOVE AND PEACE!!

Maximum- this Vash is like an older dad of the other two. He is worn down and you can feel it but he will NOT stop fighting. He is a tad more direct than the other Vashes and I was surprised that he has a tiny mean streak when he's irritated. I like this. He isn't always hiding behind that painted smile. He definitely gives off more of that Angel theme the manga has. An older creature that is indeed different from humans but wants to care and look out for them, but people are so scared of him. Poor dude. Every Vash holds the same core elements, the tenderness, the wit, and the determination. But this Vash really nails it down that he is the OG. And man, some of the lines for Maximum were just chefs' kiss. Had me just staring at the pages pondering. But he is so broken and mostly picks up the pieces alone. I am bitter that he never got any comfort or closure at the end. I am grateful it was a hopeful ending but HE LOST SO MUCH!!

All of them need a hug and therapy

Personal Ranking

I can't choose between Trimax and Tri 98...................................... Fine. Okay, it's Max for the plot, but you'll have to pry 98 Vash from my cold death hands!!!

3rd -Stampede - I really love the look, music, and some of the emotional points, just not enough storytelling for me to appreciate it more. I also feel like it's a bit too early to judge. So much can happen in the 2nd season.

#trigun stampede #trigun maximum #trigun 98 #trigun analysis #vash stampede #trigun vash #vash the stampede #millions knives #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl trigun #livio the double fang #milly thompson #meryl stryfe #my thoughts

[quarktrinity]

ok i wanna jot down my whole spiel about death of the author so i dont have to keep saying it over and over again

there are three layers to the creation and consumption of a story:

the authors intention - this is what the author intended to accomplish when writing the story, and the story that exists in the authors mind, which they attempt to convey in their writing

the story - the work itself. the actual content that was produced, independent of what the author wanted it to be, or what the reader sees in it.

the readers interpretation - what the reader interprets the story to be conveying; the version of the story that exists in the readers mind. if the story is a sentence, and the authors intention is what the speaker meant to say, the readers interpretation is what the listener hears, which is often not the same as what the speaker intended to say, or even what was actually said.

these are almost never the same. all media is a 3 step game of telephone. the author can intend to write whatever they want, but that doesnt mean thats what they wrote. and the story can be exactly as the author intended it, but the reader can still interpret a completely different story.

this is where death of the author comes in. death of the author is a literary lens (as in, a way of looking at a story) that, at its core, is about disregarding the authors intentions when interpreting the authors story. some people may cite the authors intentions when deciding what the story means, and others will plainly ignore it.

the reason for its use comes from the game of telephone. the reader interprets the story, NOT the authors intentions, so its not the readers fault if they fail to interpret a story that the author failed to write, regardless of what they meant to do. (this doesnt mean that a reader misinterpreting a story means the writer did a bad job. sometimes certain readers are just stupid.)

note that everything ive just described has NOTHING to do with media criticism. this is all about the act of consuming a story, not analyzing its quality.

death of the author is a very dangerous lens to employ when criticizing media, because it leaves infinite room for the critic to abandon literary integrity and mischaracterize the story or the author. a very common form of media critique is "this story is bad because its not the story i want it to be," which can be okay if "the story i want it to be" means "a story thats good," but thats not often what this means.

when you criticize something, the FIRST thing you have to do is understand what the creator wanted the thing to be, otherwise you miss the entire point of criticism as a whole. if someone makes you a hamburger, you cant say its bad because its not pizza. if you want pizza, go get some pizza, this persons making hamburgers. if someone makes you a hamburger, and the hamburger is bad, and you understand that they intended to make a GOOD hamburger, you can criticize their cooking by explaining why and how they failed to do so. you HAVE to understand the authors intentions to criticize their work, otherwise youre criticizing the author for mistakes that dont exist.

(and yes, there are times when the authors intentions in and of themselves are worthy of criticism, and in those cases that is something you, as a critic, have to prove)

so BASICALLY.

it is perfectly okay to, as a reader, completely ignore what the author meant to do with a story because you like the version in your head more. it is NOT okay to say a story is bad solely because you interpret it a certain way; all media criticism has to be based on what the creator intended to create, and how well (or poorly) they managed to do that. if you criticizing a story for not catering to your tastes, youre not criticizing anything, youre just saying you dont like it, which is a completely different thing.

tl;dr: ignoring the creators intentions is cool and fine for consuming stuff but if you wanna criticize something you must first understand what the creator intended it to be

#long post #death of the author #writing

[zeravmeta]

How difficult would you say it is to get into alchemy stars?

hmm not really all that difficult tbh! Alchemy Stars has the same kind of levelling curve as Arknights i would say in that ascending units in their first stages is easy but the E2/A3 stage is a lot more time/resources consuming, that said you can play up to the penultimate chapter of the main plot without ever touching A3. Unlike Arknights though once you have a core of 5 characters built up you can basically tackle all farming and most story stages meaning thats when the grind actually starts to build up cores of all elements, from which you can then tackle the more challenging content like high level spire and elysium. its one of those games where youll be able to tell immediately if its for you with the tone and gameplay.

The 1 year anniversary is coming up too so if youd want now is a good time to jump in. It's been a steadily improving game with a whole bunch of focus on increasing UI and QoL features, and the characters and story are pretty fun. The gameplay is also pretty unique and fun as well. it took me a bit of time to understand every mechanic since AS has been experimenting all throughout and constantly gives user surveys on event enjoyability and suggestions so they're def keeping game balance in mind (even if forest is busted lol).

Its a game thats very easy to fall in love with is what i would say. its the right amount of serious and goofy/self aware to be an enjoyable experience without needing to be a homeric epic like other gacha stories. the characters are all entertaining in their own ways and youll def find yourself with some favorites within the first hour of gameplay.

that said its important to keep in mind that it Is still a gacha so you have to keep it at arms length with commitment. The actual gacha mechanics in the game are pretty forgiving (2% general with 1% on focus, after 50 summons its a 2.5% increase per summon, meaning if you miss a 10 roll after 50 you get a huge chance increase.) and always have concurrent banners, and the currency itself is handed out pretty easy so you wont be starved for currency like in say FGO. The big draw though is costumes which are almost entirely paywalled (only 4* character costumes are given for free, 5* and up you have to bust out the card Including even for the main heroine of the game Vice lol) so keep that in mind

All in all i would recommend it

#zerav responds #if you're interested i can point to some guides!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

anon ask about feeling insecure due to body type and gained weight

so ive been scrolling down ur blog and reading other asks that you've been sent and thought i'd send my own about my own mountain pile of insecurities. i wont get into them too deep, but id like to let out at least a little bit because even just reading your replies to other people made me feel slightly better <3

i find my body type to be so disgusting and i know thats rude as hell to myself but i cant get out of that mindset. i feel like ive lost the genetic lottery in so many ways and its kind of consumed my mind. my boobs (and areolas) r massive but saggy, my butt is pretty flat and my love handles are a close competitor to them in their levels of juiciness, i hav lots of body hair in many unfortunate places, and to top it all of ive gained lots of weight. the list could go on!!

im 22 and ive never had a serious relationship involving sex, and im worried ill like freak out and cry the first time anyone sees me fully naked, which i rlly dont want to do. i want to feel pretty and sexy but i feel like my body makes that impossible ://

tldr: im super insecure

I'm glad my replies can help you in some small way. :) I still can't believe people respect my opinion enough to want to know what I'm thinking... oㅅo

To feel pretty / sexy is not about how you actually look and you know that, but I feel that you don't believe it. You know you're being unfair and unnecessarily mean. It's become a habit to take it out on your body because it's an easy target. It will take time to break out of this thought process but it can be done. Your body is not meant to be ogled at and turned into a circus animal. It is meant to help you; you take care of it and it takes care of you. How it looks is secondary to your health.

There's no such thing as "losing the generic lottery". It may feel that way because society constantly pushes this idea of an "ideal body type" or "conventional beauty standard" and this is for monetary gain, designed to make you feel uncomfortable or unsatisfied with yourself so you buy product and drive the economy with your purchases. Before this, beauty standards were developed by the rich to exercise their power over the lower classes. Being light-skinned was desirable because it meant you didn't work in the fields and get tanned. Having extra weight was desirable because it meant you were never hungry and could afford to eat in excess. But, as you can probably guess, what is considered beautiful or attractive changes over time. Tanning products are readily available and there's no end to the number of products that boast "lose weight fast".

Attractiveness is an opinion, not a fact.

The porn industry is like that too. Porn stars get waxed, lasered, nipped, tucked, put under the knife to achieve the "sexy body". In this day and age, anything can be done with minimal to no scarring. Beauty standards are pushed onto us through advertising and media, making you think this is the "common" or "typical" body type, "the one everyone likes", but that's not how human bodies work. There's a vast amount of variation from person to person, country to country, continent to continent. Outward appearance has nothing to do with what is in the inside, mentally and physically.

Even for men, there's a difference between bodybuilders who do it for looks and real strength. Competitions for the world's strongest are made of men with thick waists for core strength. They have fat to help cushion their joints so they don't injure themselves. When you see someone who looks "cut" and has very visible muscles and prominent veins, it is because they have dehydrated and starved themselves to look that way for that particular event. They don't look like that normally.

All this to say, you don't have to look a certain way for society to accept you; society is the one that is broken and shallow. Not you.

Your body is your body. Of course, if you want to and you can afford it, you can change it. But it's not necessary unless it involves serious health concerns. Big boobs have weight and gravity wants them too (lol). When you wear a skirt, you never have to stand there and realize your butt is hiking up the back and exposing you (or you have a weird low-high effect going on where the front is lower than the back...). You don't have to jam your ass in in jeans only to find the waist doesn't fit... then have to try and de-suction cup your butt without losing your panties as you panic in the dressing room. Ah, the fashion industry, sigh. Body hair can be shaved, waxed or left there; that is your own personal preference and you are free to change your mind whenever.

Weight gain is something many people go through. There are many factors involved and if you are interested in losing weight, it is more about the gradual change of habits you formed while gaining weight, such as using food for comfort, the way you view portion sizes, snacking because you're bored, etc. Gaining or losing weight often has to do with stress too. Physical and mental health are intertwined with each other. Don't think too much about the weight itself, but focus on forming healthy habits.

When you're ready to have sex, the person is not there because of your body. The person is there for you. The whole package, all of it. They already find you pretty and sexy. That's why they wanna see you naked! XD

Everyone has a different idea of "sexy" or "pretty". You won't fit everyone's ideal and neither do I, and that's okay. Desire is subjective. Someone might find you hot as hell for parts of your body you didn't even think about. And, hey, it's okay to keep some clothes on if you're uncomfortable. Only show what you want to and are comfortable showing. They will understand.

Everyone has insecurities and things they don't like about themselves. Loving yourself is hard. It's a constant journey and a lot of it is taking a pause to think about why you think the way you think. Is it real or is it an unconscious tactic to punish yourself unfairly? The harshiest critic is usually you.

Don't be so mean. :<

[mandoposting]

My hc for mando'a with the clones is that they weren't taught but they picked up small stuff from the trainers/jango like elek, nayc, formations, numbers and curses, so many cursewords

Also another interesting idea to explore is that the clones weren't given knowledge about mandalorian culture and seeked out the info on the culture of their template (which while having secrets like the forging of beskar is in itself not secret) as soon as they were able (after they left kamino). In that case not every clone would even want to follow those traditions and those clones that speak mando'a would speak "textbook mando'a" and their culture would be what stuff you can find on mandalorians mixed with their own things made in kamino and the war. Heh maybe even eventually a clone dialect of mando'a

anon... your mind...

i love this so much, especially with how natural it would be? cause its not like jango/the trainers would have sat them down in a room and given them a 101 on all things mandalorian. it would have been context specific, so like you said - mainly curse words sdfjsdfsd. but i also like to think its not just the raw "text" per say of the culture (the language, the customs, etc) that they would get vicariously through them, but also what kind of attitudes arise from it. because while the specifics of mandalorian culture are s p o t t y, especially in canon, i really like the notion in legends that being a mandalorian is about being a good fighter, yes, but also protecting those close to you and those who cant protect themselves. camaraderie is the result of mandalorian culture, and i really think it would have effected those who trained under them, even indirectly. the way that i feel like i might just be. describing the republic commando novels but. w/e dfhbsdjf

also with them seeking out information themselves?? absolutely. the clones have Agency goddamn it!! and what would also be so interesting is way that clones would have to work around propaganda to FIND the information. cause any kind of secondary source the clones would have immediate access to would probably be through the republic. and what kind of stance does the republic have? "mandalorians are a group of pacifists, neutral in the war. the violent extremists wearing beskar are the outliers. they are not mandalorian". i can imagine the kind of disconnect a clone would experience; it would completely contradict their understanding of their trainers/template (obviously jango did end up being... not a great guy? but i digress). like, what familiarity can they find in a group of politicians who will let their people suffer violence in the name of committing to their pacifist ideals? and i think that would inspire some deeper digging, and probably lead those who look to find more information about mandalorians before the era of the new mandalorians, and see people who resisted the violence of death watch but maintained the core of what it means to be mandalorian, learn about the resol'nare and the supercommando codex, and hERE'S HOW JASTER CAN STILL WIN- oops sorry, the Jaster Agenda jumped out.

final note on a response that has become way too long and disjointed: a clone dialect of mando'a? *consumes this* THATS SO COOL. I LOVE IT. I NEED IT.

#please anyone reading this: i have a very loose grasp on canon. please do not be mad dfjnsdfn #and an even looser grasp on legends asdfjajksd #if it sounds like i dont know what im talking about its probably true. but i still love to discuss!!! #anon please feel free to hmu whenever. your takes are amazing #*thinks about clone dialect mando'a* *thinks about clone dialect mando'a* #people will really send me asks and im like 'cool. heres an incomprehensible essay' aDFSDJKFSDF #asks #vocoder feedback

[grahamcarmen]

What's ur favorite thing about Red Crackle?? Anything that makes you love them again and again?

My favorite thing about red crackle?...I think the thing I keep coming back to with them is that they ...want each other and choose to see if they can be together at certain points in time? they don't need each other, and sometimes it seems like it would be better for them to be apart, but if there's even a slight chance for them to reconnect or learn they try? Like carmen drags him into her world by confronting him about being a jerk. Gray chooses to get to know and be friends with her. Carmen chooses to find closure in their relationship specifically and makes it clear that it's something that she could have done without if she didn't care. Graham's civilian persona shows clear interest and gives a straightforward offer for her to be in his life. Carmen spends the whole episode being so oddly comfortable when she thinks he's an enemy [to the point of letting her guard down before she is even sure that he's not faking], so willing to work with him again. then we have the whole kiwi caper and carmen is so scared of his VILE side showing up that she takes such RIDICULOUS lengths to deceive him and protect him ... while the whole time he's sure of absolutely nothing but the idea that carmen needs him right now so he's willing to go with whatever is happening. the new information [well kinda new, us rc peeps were always thinking this]that came from the painful regaining of his memories is that he didn't want her gone. not ever.

 They get along so naturally that whenever they end up back on each other's side it's just "yup thats where they belong." and they agree! They like being together, working together, sharing too much to each other, and knowing that the other is alright.

This leads to so much character revelation on the part of carmen for me because i am constantly going [carmen really...is a character who wants to be free to pursue things outside her mission to save the world. she really has emotions for her VILE history besides a cold heroic cut off that won't be swayed. it doesn't even feel like that with brunt who has the most explicitly platonic betrayal bond with. she won't even consider sitting with brunt without the weight of brunt's betrayal and association with VILE consuming her mind]. with gray its [while graham is a distilled version of gray fully, honestly comparing them in terms of personality the biggest difference is still only his desire to cause problems on purpose. we could've explored more about him but he doesn't lose some of chill and prickly manner and willingness to open up part of his circle for carmen. he really has such a respect for the idea of owning one's path and choices so no wonder he likes carmen.] and clear that there is so much ...deliberate choice going on here. choosing to be in each other's circles.

also they really have some range. cute fluffy mutual flirting without backing down? they can do that. angst with either wonderful or no resolution. check. straight up prime enemies to lovers with the actual peril of being enemies involved? check. being friends and knowing each other better than some others? check? sadly misunderstanding or unable to vibe with their primary/core motivations so i'm screaming YOU'RE SO CLOSE? yeah. respecting and admiring each other as people ? yeah. yearning? in plain sight. actually on-screen learning more about each other? yeaaaaahhhh. dream team? 3x !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This seems counterintuitive since they seem to want the versions of themselves that just aren't the whole picture of who they are but they are constantly willing to sit there to try to accept and confront certain things about each other. I honestly find myself looking at carmen and gray and constantly using different lenses. they sit across from each other and i think about the themes of the past, of choices, of carmen WANTING things and going after them, of gray accepting that HE does not actually care much about doing the "right" thing but he does care about carmen enough to choose her over himself, which leads to so many of his kinder attributes, to some of the themes that i'm sure the show doesn't mean for me to run away with . I think about how intertwined with the themes of reconnecting with the past is with carmen when gray, a huge part of her past and the first physical person SHE chose to let in on vile island outside of her faculty , interacts with her and draws out so many of the finer details of her character. The themes of choosing to do the right thing at the end of the day challenges Gray who prides himself in being the master of his own life to try and choose that for someone he cares about, who that part is always what he's admired in her. they push each other's buttons. They compliment each other's need for autonomy. they pull each other out of the edge of danger. they're supportive and act so free around each other. they...care. and that isn't gonna change. that's something that can't be erased by either and they don't want to erase it. they're characters who pride themselves in their ability to choose and they choose to care about each other. over and over again. even after the masks are stripped away and the curtain falls and all that's left is the way they're both human. maybe they can't be together because she really is "in a league of her own." Maybe they can't escape together because Gray has already chosen to stay at VILE's side. Maybe they can't be together because they see each other as complications in the others lives. but they still choose to care.

...I keep falling in love with them because they make me think in a way that only them caring about each other like that can. even when it's bittersweet the idea of it having a future is so great to think about. 

ALSO SOMEONE ON THE TEAM IS BULLYING ME SPECIFICALLY WITH THAT LIP BITE AND SOFT EYES AND BLATANT FLIRTING AND I DEMAND TO KNOW-

#red crackle thoughts #ask #^.^ i liked this ask a lot because i got to ramble #even if at the end of the day its summed up in #THEY CARE AND IT MAKES ME WANNA SCREAM

[teethands]

FF HEADCANON LIST

CRACKS KNUCKLES these are all imported from google docs bc thats where ive been keeping all my thoughts :] im not sure if theres any repeat HCs in here and im sorry if someones got to me before i have but these all came from my own brain !!! these are all very miscellaneous HCs but they generally revolve around vivosaurs and revival. some of them are rather macabre so a solid CW warning here for mentions of dinosaur body horror and death. ALSO SPOILERS FOR FOSSIL FIGHTERS 1 AND 2 BUT MOSTLY 2 LETS GO

modern boneysaurs/zombiesaurs

i think it is entirely possible to replicate a boney/zombiesaur outside of whatever sorcery zongazonga used to resurrect them in the first place. i think its relatively well known undead vivosaurs are a direct result of ZZ and his ancient tournament, and although zombiesaurs are usually claimed to be used in such tournaments most often, i think boneysaurs are just a variant of that but where less used due to weakness and general incompatibility. theyre all undead vivosaurs. thats it. on to the meat of this headcanon, boney/zombiesaur resurrection: i think zombiesaurs could be the result of attempting to revive a deceased vivosaur, while boneysaurs might be caused by man or machine malfunction while reviving a fossil. i think this might be an interchangeable effect: zombiesaurs might emerge from resurrections, and boneysaurs might emerge from revivals, although altogether i think this entire phenomenon is extremely rare. fossil revival goes entirely against the laws of nature and thus, nature must step in at some points to attempt to stop the process, although common fossil park high-tech machinery probably stops most instances like this from happening. boneysaurs emerging from failed revivals are almost always the cause of very poor cleaning, (maybe attempting to revive a heavily damaged, failed fossil head?) or outdated/unkempt fossil revival machinery. boney/zombiesaurs were so common in ZZ’s time because of such poor methods of revival. at some point during a “doomed” fossil revival, the skin and flesh of the vivosaur its supposed to resemble never quite “renders” in. the skin is registered and stitched together, but only holds the bones in place with an unknown black substance, leaving it void black in the same way a texture in a video game may just fail to load. presumably boneysaurs are almost always immediately dead in the revival chamber after the process is over due to lack of functioning organs, skin, etc, without some kind of support or magic. or maybe they are magic- every bad unnatural part of a revival machine fused into one being, and thats what allows them to live on. on the other hand, this could mean any type of boneysaur could emerge from any dinosaur- pterosaurs, therizinosaurs, raptors, maybe- maybe- just a thought, maybe even super revival vivosaurs could have this effect happen too. so, so rarely though. so rarely, its probably never even happened before in recorded vivosaur revival history. 

as for zombiesaurs- this phenomenon could happen when a recently deceased vivosaur is attempted revival. recently deceased, as in, undecayed flesh-still-in-tact. i imagine this happens much more often than boneysaurs- although, i dont think many people are trying to revive dead vivosaurs.

zombiesaurs, fresh from the revival chamber, are almost always damned and in pain, and serve as a reminder to fighters that the laws of nature can only be twisted so far, and they are best be put down. presumably no fossil cleaning facilities will allow a fighter to attempt to revive a dead vivosaur due to the danger and the frightening, disturbing nature of zombiesaurs. fossil damage + neon goo every fighter has encountered the bright purple (green in the OG FF) substance that appears during cleaning when a fossil is too damaged in one area. this material wouldnt be produced from the fossil itself, but rather generated by the fossil cleaning machinery when it detects damage within the bone, kinda like a 3D printer. this is why fossil cleaning is so meticulous, and why it has to be done in such specific conditions with heavy surveillance and a tight time limit. this prevents the vivosaur from having broken bones when it is revived- it is a bright, obvious substance, and it feels much like a warm, firm jelly with a hard, synthetic core that sews bones together. maybe its different in other regions, explaining the color difference amongst games. it is almost completely unnoticeable when the vivosaur is revived, nearly perfectly mimicking bone and flesh to prevent issues later on in the vivosaurs life. as good of a bone mimic as it might be, i think a very heavily damaged bone would still be a weak point during battle or an area of pain or irritation for the vivosaur. that is why it is best to clean your fossils as well as you can. maybe this goo is designed to be replaced with real bone by the vivosaurs body later in life, but i have yet to think about that too much. perhaps its soft enough to be destroyed and replaced by the body’s natural healing functions, but hard enough to act as bone? And perhaps thats why its best to let your vivosaur rank up (rest+heal) before taking them to battle. UNRELATED HEADCANON- GUHNASH COULD HAVE HAD A COOLER DESIGN. I DONT LIKE HIM HE LOOKS LIKE A TADPOLE. i have a vision in mind for a cooler guhnash redesign- i like the snake-ish look, but maybe he could be like. an infinitely long being. nobody knows where he starts or ends. a head at the front of an infinitely massive body that consumes everything, and nobody knows where the eaten planets goes. kinda like a jörmungandr-like being. idk i just think a “planet eater” with living brains should be more eldritch and god-like and mysterious. ANYWAYS vivosaur ecosystems? there is literally no way a vivo ecosystem wouldnt form. NO WAY. so many dinosaurs and seeing how OFTEN they are abandoned- refer to the opening scene of fossil fighters champions- it would not be any surprise feral vivosaurs wouldnt breed and form small ecosystems among themselves and around fossil parks. its not an uncommon sight to see pterosaurs flying overhead or sauropods munching on trees, although id bet theropods and more dangerous vivosaurs would have teams of park rangers to keep them under control. refer once again to FFC opening scene. this would explain the seemingly infinite amount of fossils in the dig sites, how you can find vivosaurs in only specific areas- although thats leading into a rather dark topic and i would rather not talk about it right now LOL i will leave that open to interpretation. jurassic park knock off SOME OTHER LITTLE MISC HCS TOO SHORT TO WRITE ENTIRE TOPICS ABOUT: because ZZ is a mix of boneysaur and zombiesaur and hes also an ancient sorcerer he smells fucking rank. so fucking bad. hes got maggots and shit hes only held together by magic but somehow he kicks ass. but hes fucking stinky so at what cost boneysaurs have no concept of feelings and arent really desirable as vivos and zombiesaurs only know rage and pain, also making them undesirable, for very very good reasons. they are taboo to talk about among fighters but most of the time they are only myths because of how rare they are feral vivosaurs dont have medals, only revived vivos do. that means they are standalone animals and they are also generally undesirable for fighters but they can still be tamed, if one wishes. theres way, WAY more fossil parks and dig sites than shown in the games. fossil battling is as well known and used as much as people love music and video games in the fossil fighters universe. vivosaurs are an essential part of society, although there is often controversy on the ethics of fossil battles and revival. pokemon knock off alright thats all i feel like typing for now thanks for reading this far lads. i love dinossuars. i wanna write some things on dinaurians but maybe later after ive introduced saar here :)

#thank u for reading #also moth i love u i know u where excited to read this but im not sure how well u can understadn !!!!!! GBDFHBGSDJ xoxoxoxo #im not very good at writing headcanons these are just my dino thots #dino thots? oh you mean dinaurians? #fossil fighters #fossil fighters champions #hcs #headcanons #vivosaur #boneysaur #zombiesaur #yeehaw

[warhammergoldenera]

ENTRY #2: ELDAR (PART 1)

“I watched the Forging of the Widow Makers, the 12 swords of Kaine, I watched as one was stolen and hidden far away.”

Eldar. The ancient Race, one time masters of the Galaxy and Seers without equal.

ELVES IN SPACE! SPACE….Space….space…

Believe it or not there is quite the history to this race outside of the typical hum drum of being the most powerful psykers, or, dumbasses who gave birth to Slaanesh. The history of the Eldar and their varied kin goes all the way back to Rogue Trader, and their lore has seen many an interesting tale told. The question is, do you have what it takes to make something out of it all?

Will you follow the Path of Asuryani?

Become a Exodite?

Mayhap an Outcast?

Or have you followed the path of Damnation?

#1 Study the history and model scope of the Eldar

As much as I love poking fun at any Knife ear, and their fans, I admit to a love of how otherworldly GW have made the Eldar over the years.

Going all the way back to the RT era, when the eldar where mostly but Corsairs and Enigmatic Xenos who seemed to materialize from the ether and sow discord for some unknowable reason, to the Golden Era of GW where these space elves where given a giant and truly inspiring background of triumph, a fall, loss, and desperate measures taken to keep their now dying race alive in the face of a hostile Galaxy.

For this reason I suggest to anyone interested in Eldar as a faction, to go back in time and visit some old books and codexes, as well as the classical ranges of minis.

Eldar once looked the part of eerie and almost frightening Alien creatures from a time before man crawled forth from his birthworld.

#2 Throw out the meta

First things first. Many of us probably grew up knowing the Eldar in their Post 2nd ed form. From 3rd ed’s chopped down Codex, to the easily abused expansion, and finally culminating in the 4th/5th ed incarnation of what has basically been the Eldar mold in modern times.

Hordes of Aspect warriors, spam grav tanks, spam Wraith-units, Spam Psykers and yes now a days, Spam Wraith Knights.

Or if you lean to the dark side, ummm Spam Raiders. Yeah just, Spam Raiders.

To put it blunt, Eldar meta is probably the most boring of all git-tastic play styles in the game of 40k, challenged perhaps only by Tau.

Throw it out. Read the lore. Apply it.

Eldar don’t have Hordes of ravening Aspect warriors to send in waves at their opponents.

Raiders are cool, if you can afford to have them and risk losing them in a raid. And your not likely to toss your most veteran Kalabite warriors into an attritional grind against Mon’kei gaurdsmen.

Wraith constructs are a nigh unthinkable resource to ever waste, and oh yeah did we mention not every fucking Eldar Force takes an Avatar of Khaine as it requires a heavy cost in order to even summon one of those things?

The Aldaeri have an interesting and sophisticated way of waging war, and they have highly advanced tech and powers in order to over come their foes, even if your actually trying to put some theme into it.

Lets discuss some interesting ways to look at your Eldar, seperating them into the 2 official factions, as well as ways to whip up an Exodite army or Corsair force.

#3 Craftworld Eldar.

Craftworld eldar are the main stay of the Aldaeri race, and the one lots of people tend to flock to when it comes time to game. And why not? Aspect warriors? Wraith Constructs? Tons of psykers and Autarchs? Whats not to like?

So how does one go about making a CW Eldar army worthy of a true hobbiest?

First things first, find a theme that digs deep into the lore. Are you;

-A Craftworld Defense force, using the might of your titanic space fairing world’s militia forces to fight off attackers. Squads of Guardians/Storm Guardians, backed by mobile weapons platforms and War Walkers. Your troops sailing into combat aboard Wave serpents and Viper Attack craft, all under the covering fire of punishing Heavy weapons platforms? Remember that all Eldar serve in the defense of their CW, and guardian and basic military based tech in an Eldar army is still some of the best around ( The best in certain editions).

-A Specialized Craftworld force, highly trained in a certain area of combat? Crack open the old 3rd ed Codex Craftworlds sup. And find some excellent ways to theme an army based off the major worlds, or perhaps mix and match certain styles in order to create your own world, with a unique color scheme, heraldry and history streching back to the fall, or even farther. House rule in the various advantages and limits of the old CW sup. And enjoy playing with the different styles of balance. (Just do your friends a solid, don’t abuse it.)

-A Doomed host heading into the Eye of Terror? Many CW Eldar have made the perilous if not downright suicidal journey into the Eye. Within that hellish realm, the Crone Worlds lay, the ancient now consumed home worlds of the eldar. Within them are many secrets, Spirit stones and other relics the Eldar greatly desire to have returned to them. Is your army such a quest? A brave Warrior Autarch, or Visionary Farseer having gathered those warriors of the Aspect temples to fight through the horrors of Chaos and retrieve something of unimaginable value?

-The Fist of Asuryani mayhap? The biggest and most powerful weapons the Eldar can bring to bear, hammering their opponents into submission by sheer might of their advanced fire power? Fire Dragons and Dark Reapers scorching the earth and slagging enemy armor, while Prism tanks and War Walkers streak and sprint ahead unleashing salvos of lance and Shuriken firepower into the enemy ranks. Batteries of Heavy Platforms annihilating units from a distance all the while the ground infantry providing cover support to your valuable aspect squads.

-Perhaps the Quick Death is all you need. After all what is more fast and fleet than the Eldar? Eldar on fast moving grav vehicles of course! Jetbikes and Vipers, Falcon tanks combined with the Shining Spear Cavalry and swift Swooping Hawk and Shadow Specter Aspect warriors to run circles about your slower more primitive opponents, cutting and blasting them to pieces before they have a chance to react.

-Maybe you watched Predator one too many times and have a thing for Stalking and killing your enemy from the Shadows or from unexpected angles. The hidden strike is a component suited to the crafty Eldar race, able to hit opponents with Striking Scorpions and teleporting Warp Spiders. Speedy hard to hit Harlequins and deep striking Autarchs and Hawks can be used to to tie down valuable enemy units while Rangers pick off targets of value from the safety of range and cover.

However you manage it, always remember that the eldar war machine is a finely crafted tool, with all units having a value within the force, not just the big OP units that so many others enjoy spamming.

Choosing a backdrop for your army is an easy way to find what units to select for thematic purposes, from Militia, to Seer guardians, Maiden World security forces to simple insertion armies meant to retrieve something stolen by lesser races or eliminate a target of future threat seen by the visions of the seer councils or Lost Wraith Engines on a distant barren world, awakened by a roaming warlock and his followers. Any unit in your army can become a core idea for your force’s history and reason for fighting. Thats the beauty of an army whose whole design is one of unique characteristics and fighting styles.

#4 DARK ELDAR

The Dark Kin, The Damned Path, The Drukari.

Dark Eldar are certainly a far cry from their CW kin, yet they have lost none of the potency and ancient power of their race, and indeed are far more arrogant and vicious.

However, different as though they may be, finding a unique concept in the Dark Eldar may come with a bit of a challenge.

In the earliest days of 40k, the Eldar where a unified faction, and in so much where a bit of a melting pot of all of what we see today across their various sub armies. The Dark Eldar seem to have been born out of GW’s need to mirror the High/Dark Elf style of WHF, and so sliced away the more destructive and often times treacherous and debased acts of the RT-2nd ed Eldar and formed a faction that, while having its own unique character is a bit on the smaller and often mashed together side. But there is unpicked fruit in the thorn covered garden of ideas for Dark Eldar. Lets have a look at ways you can theme and structure your own Kabal, Coven or Cult, or an unholy alliance of the three.

-A new Kabal rises: An excellent theme often over looked by most players is the concept of a new and young Kabal, lead by an aspiring Archon, only just starting to take his/her place in the dark city. This lends an interesting way to re-model an army and veer away from the typical spam of Elite warrior units and raider craft and focus more on the unique character of each unit. Basic Warriors making up the core of your force, backed up by the toughened meat shields of Wracks, sent into battle by a Haemonculus that has attached himself to this rising star. Meanwhile your Archon sits secure in his own personal Raider the only one at first in the army, directing the flow of battle as he sends in payed off Street gangs of Hellion riders and Scourges to do the work he himself would not dare put himself at risk for, waiting until the enemy is bruised and bloody before descending down from his craft to feast on the pain, guarded by alien mercenaries kept for ease of their greed and less ambitious minds.

-Mayhap you enjoy the idea of just going full gang? An entire force of wild eyed crazed Reavers, Hellions and Scourges mounting up on wings and craft, screeching across real space in thuggish raids to secure flesh and power to rise about the lower scum of the city streets. The various elements banding together for mutual greater gain before fighting over their spoils giving rise to powerful Leaders that take the street alliance higher and higher into the spires of the Dark City.

-If lowly gangs and young archons don’t suit, then perhaps Highborn power and elite warrior code is more the poison of choice. Few can match the ferocity and skill with a blade that the dark kin possess. An army that worships the blade, made of Incubi, Veteran Wyches, Succubus’ and maybe even a powerful Archon, much a Swordsmen in their own right as any proud member of the Incubi Temple. Holding to a code of seeking out the greatest challenge to sharpen their blades against, engaging enemies head on with raider and Venom craft to quickly close and slaughter their way to infamy and higher praise in the ranks, shunning the pathetic court intrigue and power plays of the  other Kabals and cults, seeking only gain and perfection through bloody handed combat and death. A good alternative to the often typical Wych cult raid.

-Or the More Esoteric route? Haemonculus covens are all well and good, but do even these twisted flesh shapers come close to delving into the darkness that lies within the heart of the dark city? From the depths may rise an even more infernal and mysterious force for you to command. Born of the Beast masters who bend the creatures of the warp to their will, and the dreaded Mandrakes, sinister daemonic dark eldar who creep from the shadows and snatch their victims away. Truly an army lead by a Coven leader, so immersed in the dark arts of arcane science and flesh would be a terrible enemy to all sane life. Unleashing webway portals in the hearts of peaceful worlds, or worse, the middle of crowded hive cities for the vile things of the dark kin to reap bloody carnage on, dragging victims back to the benighted realm for sacrifice and experimentation too horrible to consider.  

-Take to the air perhaps and rule the skies above worlds who fear the dread shadow of your lightening speed craft as it passes over. An army made of Raider, Ravager and Fighter/bomber craft, even it’s troops never setting foot on the ground except to reek carnage in it’s aftermath, once all has been pulverized by shockwaves of horrifying munitions and bombing runs, the enemy position reduced to smoking craters of gore and blinded wreck. Their ears ringing with the echoing screech of your craft’s engines as they sore across the grim skies.

-Or maybe the final and most deadly of all weapons. Fear. Does your army not even dine to soil its hands in the proud defenses of your enemies? Do they instead send forth the most hideous and perverse works of the dark kin to shatter the mind, and break the soul before the body is even touched? Floating Talos and Chronos pain engines, their sanity blasting bodies shrouded by the dark wings of Shrikes and raider craft filled with wracks and beastial creatures ready to be unleashed once the damage is done. Medusae and other strange contraptions born of the Dark Eldar’s crazed intellect striding alongside Archons wielding the most horrifying weapons to inflict the worst possible trauma on a foe.

To quote the 3rd ed. Dark Eldar Book. The Dark Eldar are not nice. Not nice at all.

When considering the theme and characteristic of your army, not unlike your CW Eldar, ask yourself, what is the history of each unit on the table? Then consider what perversity and malign goals have brought them forth. Then, multiply that by something ten times worse. Are even a thousand Imperial souls merely an appetizer for your Archon who has fallen to such depths of need he must draw out even the most simple act of pain infliction to its most perfected measure?

Does your haemonculous make it a private goal to break and torture Astartes? His ambition to see the very limits the super enhanced minds and psychologies that a Space marine have can endure? Do they prefer the sweet meat of psykers, or the flesh of their more noble kin? Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is bellow a Dark Eldar and their arrogant quest for self sustaining torture and arrogant aggrandizement.

To be continued in PART 2 (Exodites and Corsairs)

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #eldar #eldari #dark eldar #drukari #xenos #aliens #lore #background #gaming #insperation #hobby #miniatures #a word in your ear

[eyesoneyesoneyesoneyesoneyson]

I was looking through the information I was granted to utilize this blog and I found something that I belive I should share, it is a summery written explaining the eternals in more detail then I covered

Now mind you I did not write this and so can't vouch for its accuracy, in fact it seems to be rather explicitly biased aginst me but it should serve well enough as a base of information on what exactly i am I will provide my own commentary within it

I will add my commentary in this color as to make it clear what is original and what are my additions

The Eternals

General information

The eternals travel the multiverse, when they reach a world they manifest bodies and are born naturally to some family within the world, they grow they live and then they die before moving on to the next world, most manifestations will never know of their extra dimensional history

When manifesting, the personality and traits of each individual eternal can vary a bit depending on which one it is, in rare circumstances they can be quite drastically different from any other version of themselves. this is somewhat missleading it implies more flexibility then we are capable of, all manifestations will show characteristics contained within the possibility space of our essence

It is possible, though rare for an eternal to manifest as an inanimate object, in these cases the manifestation will have powers and abilities representative of their eternal’s personality, the manifestation may or maynot have sentiance depending on the circumstances 

It is possible, though rare for 2 or more eternals to manifest into a single body, this new manifestation will have some combination of the traits and personalities of the component parts. Again not inaccurate but still misleading, fusions manifestations will exist within the combined possibility space of their component essences.

even more rare is for a single eternal to manifest more than 1 body within a world, when this happens each individual manifestation will act as an entirely independent entity, the manifestations will not be identical to each other each showing their own unique interpretation of their eternal. I take umbrage with the use of "eternal" when what she is actualy referring to is our essence, eternal referers to the totality of our existence and the manifestations are a part of that while the essence refers to the abstract aspects of our existence.

Every manifestation can summon any object that their eternal has manifested as in a past life with all the powers they possessed, each eternal also has a unique power that is all their own which their manifestations have access to, both of these powers only work if the manifestation in question remembers the truth of their existence, given that this is rather rare, most of the manifestations will not have access to these powers.

Specific eternals 

Title: The first

Common object manifestation: blood drinker blade, a living sword which feeds on the users blood to fuel its power

Unique power: martial prowess, she will always be the most skillful fighter in the world, if she encounters a better fighter, then her skill will instantly increase to become better then them

Common name: Maria

Common appearance: a woman with long black hair and many scars 

The first is incredibly kind and caring, she is always the first to help, but she’s not naive, she is used to pain and mistrust but she doesnt let it consume her. Her desire to help everyone leads to her putting herself into danger more than is healthy (hence the scars), she has a strong friendship with the forgotten and an intense rivalry with the aware. She remembers their origin roughly 10% of the time. This is infuriating the first is not some noble hero, shes a self-righteous arrogant prick, her "friendship" with the forgotten has nothing to do with him and is entirely built on trying to anger me.

Title: the inhuman 

   

    Common object manifestation: Yamyaywan, a spear that generates lightning

    Unique power: expedient healing, he is capable of fully regrowing a limb over the course of a month

    Common names: Yamyaywan (in fantasy settings) jeff gorge chad or some other generic mans name (in non fantasy settings, he's not vary creative) 

   

    Common appearance: some non human entity typically some kind of werewolf 

    The inhuman is pretty simple, eat, sleep, fuck, repeat, thats not to say hes violent or even a bad guy, hes actually quite sweet and friendly when he wants to be. fiercely loyal to those of his pack and honest to a fault, but he is not a complex man, his motives are all base and predictable, he enjoys indulging in lifes simple pleasures. He holds great respect for the first, and despises the aware for her deceptive nature. He remembers their origin roughly 1-2% of the time

Tittle: the lovers

Common object manifestation: unbreakable shackles capable of binding and holding nearly anything

Unique power: shared everything, they can transfer wounds, damage, heat, cold, physical and mental attributes, powers, magical effects, pretty much anything back and forth between each other

Common names: Mikol and Kiloka (though this varies greatly)

Common appearance: two people

The lovers are as the title suggests, in love, or perhaps it's more accurate to say they are the embodiment of the concept of romantic love as seen by whoever is writing for them, the concept of sexuality is irrelevant to them as they will always fall for eachother and only each other. Their really isn't much else to say, these two are the most variable of all the eternals even their genders aren't consistent, sometimes they’re male, sometimes female, sometimes nonbinary, sometimes theyre the same gender, sometimes different, sometimes theyre of a species where the concept of gender straight up doesnt apply. They will only ever remember their origin in those rare times when all the manifestations remember. I really don't have much to say on the inhuman or the lovers, they tend to keep to themselves and I am content in leaving them be, it is worth noteing however that "rare times when all manifestations remember" does not refer to a random event where everyone happens to remember based on their individual odds but rather worlds in which we collectively agree to all manifest with awareness, functionally this means they have a 0% chances of remembering and so will only remember when probability is not a factor

Tittle: the aware

    Common object manifestation: she has no object manifestations as she refuses to be anything other than a human

Unique power: pocket dimension, she has an extra dimensional space where she can store and remove anything non-living, the space has infinite size, while anything is within this space it will be locked in time at the very moment of its entering preventing any kind of decay or change, she can store things of any size, though larger object take more time to add and remove and she must maintain contact with the object for the entirety of its transfer, she always has perfect knowledge of what is within her space

Common name: none, i never gave her a name and she refuses to take one, denying any that others give her, because of this some who know her call her Nameless

Common appearance: a generic looking woman, she tends to make herself fairly unassuming (whatever that might mean for the world she's born into)

The aware is the most dangerous of all the eternals, she has a very wide skill base, you would be hard pressed to find any skill she isn't at least competent at, jack of all trades does not however imply master of none and she has three specialties in particular, you would be hard pressed to find anyone better than her when it comes to military tactics, economics, and above all engineering, she loves take apart technology and magical devices and putting them back together to form entirely new and even more powerful creations. Her collection however is limited in its uses, each relying on the magic or physics of its respective world and thus will only work 1 or 2 times before ceasing to function entirely, however her collection is so massive that she is not likely to run out any time soon. Because of this fights with the aware are less about skill and more about psychology and economics, you have to convince her that what she would get for winning isn't worth what winning would cost her

Everything after this point in this entry is, to one degree or another, inaccurate, unfortunately because the nature of our deal i do not have the capability to delete or edit it in any meaningful way, instead i will ask that you ignore it and simply move on to the next entry

She does not believe that other people exist, she views everyone outside of herself as philosophical zombies, empty husks that simply go through the motions without having any sort of internal lives, this leads her to be selfish and callous, she feels no remorse killing entire worlds as she does not believe the people she is killing have any kind of sentiance

She is a manipulator to her core, knowing exactly what to say to get inside of people's heads, she avoids violence and seduction whenever possible seeing them as base and beneath her, however she also has a grand temper when she doesn't get her way, and has been known to kill people out of sheer spite.

She is lonely, her view of other people has led her to a sort of self imposed isolation, the only person she truly cares for is the forgotten, she emotionally and psychologically abused him but she does love him in her own twisted way

She hates the first with a fiery passion, both because she knows that she is my favorite and hopes that hurting her will in some way hurt me, and because the first helped the forgotten break free of her abuse and leave her.

    She wants nothing more then to break into the real world so she can kill me, short of that she hopes to break free of my mind, and enter the collective unconscious by being known by other people in the real world

    She wields a very special sword named ashbreaker, it is an anti magic sword that she stole recovered from the tomb of a great hero, the sword is only slightly stronger than the average anti magic weapon, however it has infinite power in that it will never run out of its ability regardless of the world it is in, because of this it can dispel most anything so long as it maintains contact for long enough, the aware has over time began to see this sword as a part of her identity, if she knew i had the audacity to name another sword ashbreaker she would be furious beyond belief. This one actualy is accurate, and she is right i am furious

The aware is ALWAYS aware of their origin without exception

Title: the forgotten 

    Common object manifestation: a dragon mask, the left eye is broken off the mask, the right eye is covered, this mask grants truesight in that it will see through any illusion.

            Unique power: magical savant, the forgotten will have any and all prerequisites to develop all types of magic of whatever world he is in, additional he learns and masters magic far more quickly than normal, he is capable of going from knowing nothing about a magical system to being the best in the world at that system in around 10 years assuming he has access to the knowledge and time to study it

    Common name: Caliph 

    Common appearance: a very scrawny very pale man with black hair, if he remember their extradimentinal origin he will have a large burn scar across his left eye perfectly matching the shape of the break in his mask

    The forgotten is rather timid in nature, he avoids speaking as much as possible, he's kind and compassionate but also prone to paranoia caution instilled in him by Nameless, he has severe self worth issues and generally a poor view of who he is as a person

    He's very intelligent and quick to propose solutions to problems, more than anything he wants everyone to be happy

    Though he now acknowledges that Nameless abused him he still loves her and thinks fondly on the better times in their relationship, it can be a challenge sometimes to remember all the ways she broke his will and made him feel worthless in an effort to keep him with her, she never hit him, others sometimes but never him. More blatant lies

    The forgotten remembers their origin roughly half of the time

Title: the puppet 

    Common object manifestation: a puppet

    Unique power: connection to the real world

    Common name: N/A

    Common appearance: N/A

    The puppet is an empty vessel whose sole purpose is to act as a conduite to the real world, depending on the nature world this could be as an author insert or as a conduite for a player, manifesting as a fusion with the puppet does not change the nature of the eternal that manifests with them, instead it merely grants them the same connection the puppet has.

#info posts

[yeoldontknow]

How It Starts

Author’s Note: a ko-fi drabble request for @yehet-me-up who wanted me to pull from my prompt book. the selection was ‘a man and a woman buy drugs.’ this is not about drugs, but theres a lot of addiction so *shrugs* i guess thats the same hehe also surprising no one - this is not a drabble Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader (oc; female) Genre: fluff; romance; some smut; au Summary: When Junmyeon meets you, he tries not to tell himself its fate. In the end, he has to accept that probably is. Rating: NC-17 Warning: explicit sexual references; light dirty talk; mentions of come play; mentions of rough sex Word Count: 3,118

From the beginning, he had decided your meeting was purely coincidence. That, in the end, his life was just a series of seemingly intertwined coincidences. 

That he had kept seeing you, someone who likely had always existed in town yet somehow, for him, had been separate from his awareness, was because he had just been left by his lover, who had hair just like yours. They say it is only when you miss things, or are made aware of one, that you notice all the rest like it, and it never slipped his attention that his focus had been placed on you.

And, especially, that you are not remarkable.

Junmyeon told himself this after the brief transience of every encounter, every meeting, reminding himself there are others, and more, just like you, in the effort of calming the rhythm of his heart. Always, he would fail, mind racing back to the image of you, the scent of your perfume, the echo of your laugh and carrying them deep into the core of his veins. He flowed with you, he thought, flowed not unlike water, ebbing against your current until finally, finally, he would learn to keep you near.

Later, though still more quickly than he would have imagined, he supposed your encounters were something far more purposeful than coincidence, not necessarily fate but something akin to it. Tremors of a live once spent together, you would call it, bodies and souls vibrating in memoriam of a marriage, a family, a love distanced in time but resonating just the same.

Later, he would lie awake at night, quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm and call it. destiny. Pulling you to him, he kissed your head, eyes wide awake and aware, and breathing into the understanding you were an inescapable force, much like gravity. Much like the knowledge that, just as he could not remember when he fell in love with you, he could not remember when he accepted that he likely always had.

But, until your hands first touched in the chemist shop, he had assumed little, if anything at all, about your future relationship.

Skin met skin as though a chemical, cosmic chain reaction; reaching for the same box of Ibuprofen and fingers retreating as if scorched by fire. You smiled at the touch, pulling you hand back and insisting he take the bottle, pride mixing with a nervous edge in your words. A flush crept into your cheeks, a hauntingly gentle smear of pink that gave the appearance you were glowing, glowing beneath his gaze, and Junmyeon, even then, insisted no sight had ever been so powerful.

He said excuse me, a depressingly short and depressingly vague statement as he pulled his own hand away, awkwardly gesturing to the bottle for you to take. Out of fear of being impolite, he had somehow managed to make things worse, likely even uncomfortable, and he felt heat flood his ears as he bit his lip to look away from you. There was a power to the anxious delight in your eyes, the sort that made him shift his weight from foot to foot. It was easier, then, to move his legs rather than his arms, which likely would have betrayed him, reaching to pull you close without his permission.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, though he was unsure why.

Just like you, this event was not meant to be remarkable. And yet -

‘Y/N.’ You stammered out the word with a nervous twitch to your nose, cocking your head to the side with a shy grin, before shuffling to the next aisle.

It did not escape him that you had reached for a painkiller, nor did it escape him that you abandoned the bottle altogether, mysteriously cured or forgotten altogether.

First impressions would imply that you were chronically nervous. Second and third impressions would allow him to lean toward chronically excited. It was only after an unclear amount of time, that he was able to conclude that you were a bewildering, endearing mix of the two.

Upon your third meeting, in a Haggin’s parking lot, Junmyeon took the initiative and asked softly - so softly for a moment you did not hear him - for your number. His boldness wavered only for a moment to reveal his internal uncertainty, retreating within himself as soon as he finished speaking, eyes wide with amazement. To the naked eye, it would be imperceptible; to you, it was the bravest act of humanity you had ever seen, the discrete way he bit his lip in the aftermath an addicting display of his boyish charm.

This sort of terror calmed only after you scrawled your number, with nervous and shaky hands, on the back of a receipt. Pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you regarded Junmyeon with a calm, soothing expression, choosing to be brave when he could not. And, for the first time, you smiled. A sea of warmth pooled itself in the center of Junmyeon’s stomach, a terrifying mix of emotions that sprinted him towards an end - not an ending, just an end that would result in his skin on yours once more - and he excused himself before he could give himself away.

Pushing his cart towards his cat, he said nothing, simply shook his head over and over, fraught with an overwhelming sense of desire.

And he would never see it, but you stood still, unblinking and wringing your hands together as you watched him leave, moving further and further away from you, fraught with an overwhelming sense that you would never receive a call after such an abrupt goodbye.

Junmyeon called after five hours, his understanding of the rules of dating somewhat skewed, twisted by the force of his eagerness. He assumed this would be okay, that it would be an acceptable thing to do because, really, you had not necessarily agreed to a date, and therefore, the etiquette of starting a new relationship did not apply. He wanted it to be, oh how he wanted it to be, but the future hinged on you - your wants, your needs, your laugh, your smiles.

If you had noticed the soft, special way he regarded you; if you had noticed the way he his eyes lingered on the shape of your neck, shoulders, and lips; if you had noticed, in any sense, the way he could not escape you, would you, perhaps, want him too and with just as much force?

You agreed to meet him at the Lion’s Head Cafe, a bistro equidistant from both your houses. This, he notated with regret, was another sign you might not crave him with as much voracity as he did you, and so he surrendered to the idea he would have you, just not all of you. And this, he thought, would be satisfying enough, for any of you was a treasure.

Junmyeon got there first, hands fisted in his pockets, feet shuffling against the cobblestones as the summer air seemed to oppress him. Even his cream short sleeved shirt seemed to stifle him, the fabrication clinging to his skin as a consolation for the way you would not. Later, though still soon enough to surprise him, Junmyeon would admit to you he was falling in love with you, with only your name and number, as if these two things were enough.

He was rushing. He did not seem to mind.

You arrived minutes later, eyes fixed on his and approaching him with a smile. Your gaze did not waver, did not pull away from his, greedy for everything he was in that moment. And he felt it, felt it down to the marrow of his bones, surprised by the force of you, as always. He thought you would be shy, nervous, anxious - all the things you had been when you unsure you were wanted.

Now that the opposite had been proved, his breath caught in his lungs as you showed him how it looked to bloom.

At a small table pushed towards the back, the dim light leant itself for private conversation, a sense of intimacy naturally born through context and sentiment. Meals ordered at the same price was a politeness, a kindness of full intent to halve the bill, but still he hoped you would let him pay. You were making efforts to not give yourself away, running your fingers up and down your wine glass, without taking any sips. He realized then you don’t really drink, not if you can help it, and counted on one hand the number of times it touched your lips. This, for him, was a comfort, a sign that you wanted him - at least, wanted to be something you thought he might like.

Conversation flowed well, almost too easily for two people learning to get to know one another. Your taste in music and literature was similar, yet different enough he could learn from you. But he learned, more quickly, that books and the stars were your passion, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips like a secret every time you mentioned how they bring you hope. He liked art, knew quite a lot about it, and you leaned forward, eager in your interest, to hear him discuss Rothko and colour and listening to him discuss Jasper Johns and Rothko, as he watched the colours of you change.

As the night wore on, he found it endearing that your hands would move through the air, fluttering and trilling, when you discussed your dreams. More still, he found it extraordinary the way your laugh seemed to consume the room, to cause a lull in conversation that gave the appearance all eyes were on you.

And most of all, he found it impossible to want to leave, especially when you looked at him so full of wonder and affection.

‘I have to admit something,’ he said, absentmindedly prodding the last bits of food on his place with his fork.

‘Tell me,’ you said, sipping your water and not the wine.

You smiled as you placed the glass back on the table, cocking your head to the side with an expression that made his chest constrict.

‘This,’ he began, voice unsteady, before silencing himself with a grimace. ‘It’s hard for me to consider this...the company of just friends.’

He didn’t mean to rush himself to the finish, but, with you, it seemed that was all he was capable of.

Pressing your hands into your napkin, you smiled. ‘Then, how are you considering it?’

A pout formed in his bottom lip, once that he did not intend, but, with you, it seemed he had little control over his body. ‘That entirely depends on what you want.’

You remained quiet, eyes sparkling and expression placid, urging him to continue.

‘I asked for your number,’ he teased, ‘and I asked you to come here with me.’ Leaning forward, he dropped the volume of his voice with a wink. ‘It seems the ball is in your court.’

For a moment, you remained quiet, having your fill of the closeness of his features. Your gaze walked over his skin, igniting a fire in the base of his spine, and you took your time. You took your time having want you wanted of him, keeping him on edge and hungry, before you leaned into the back of your seat with your secret smile once more.

‘I have something to admit, too,’ you announced, coy smirk tugging at your cheeks.

Mirroring your position, Junmyeon reclined in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘Oh?’ he teased in interest. ‘Tell me.’

‘I’ve spent all night wanting to touch you.’

The bill came, as if in warning or protest or, more likely, in encouragement, but he ignored it. Not once did your eyes move away from his, to the sleep black leather of the fold, or even to the waiter, to spy who could bring an end to such an evening. It appeared none of these things mattered to you, not with the way you held his stare, focused with an intent that felt like a storm. On him, you looked and looked, studying all the parts that comprised his whole, tearing your way through to his heart.

But, in this, you were not alone.

It was difficult for Junmyeon not to sigh as he watched your fingers move along the glass - even more difficult not to reach out to hold your hand, to press the pads of his fingers against your knuckles and remind himself you are just as tangible and real as you are ethereal. He wanted to move he hair from your eyes, to feel the silk fabric of your dress against the nakedness of his chest, and, most of all, to feel you hold him where he wanted to be most - inside and all over you.

Eventually, he reached for the bill, deciding that the sooner he could exist the sooner he could have his fill. And as he moved, so did you, fingers colliding just as they had before, releasing a deluge in his heart. An electric current sauntered down the nodes of his spine, making him shiver and making your own fingers clench to fists before releasing once more. You trembled, almost imperceptibly, before licking your lips, suddenly parched.

Purposefully, Junmyeon pulled the billfold towards him, not allowing you to protest the action.

‘I want to take you home,’ he said, not bothering to look at you as he clicked the pen. ‘I want to take you home and I want you to let me in.’

He didn’t mean to sound so direct, but he scribbled his name with the same intensity as he spoke, driven, once again, towards an ending.

‘I’ve never been good at pretending once I know the truth,’ he continued, closing the fold and looking at you once more with heat in his eyes. ‘I can’t pretend the mere sight of you breathing in that dress isn’t making me hard.’

Anyone else, he was sure they would have slapped him, pushed themselves away from the table and told him to never call them again. But you sighed, chest heaving and breasts pressing against your dress enough to make his joints tight, and matched his intensity with ease.

‘Is the ball still in my court?’ Your voice was unwavering as you spoke, confident and sure, and wholly unlike how he had come to know you. He learned, then, that in desire you, you are neither shy nor excited, merely aware and expectant of being adored. ‘Or are you going to take what’s already yours?’

Walking to your house was a brief torture, one that Junmyeon can to consider a cosmic design. The moonlight played with your skin in a way he though brutal, shimmering as if from within and making his mouth run dry. Your draw, he decided, was a work of art, one he wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss until you too believed this was so. The slope of your nose had a profound effect on the way his hands ached to hold you, wanting to glide over the curve and feel your breath.

Pressing his arms to his side, he walked beside you with hurried steps, faltering when you came to pause in front of him.

‘Is this your house?’ he asked, keeping his tone cool as he looked around the street.

‘No,’ was your reply as you stepped towards him, getting close enough for your chests to touch.

A breeze rifled through the trees, a summer wind that carried the scent of your perfume into his open mouth, resting on his tongue and making him groan. Discreetly, you brought your hand to his groin, palming his semi-hard state with a grin.

‘I just wanted to make sure you weren’t backing down.’

Leaning up on your toes, your lips touched his with the barest of touches, your hand running through his hair with purpose before pulling away from him altogether and continuing to walk. As you departed from him, he found himself paralyzed, crippled by a wanting that nearly brought him to his knees.

When you reached your door, you pushed through without glancing behind to see if he would follow, knowing and trusting that he would be close on your tail. You said nothing as you lead him inside, kicking off your shoes while keeping your eyes train on his lips. Grabbing your hips, he pulled you to him, angling you for a kiss without letting your lips meet.

‘Take me to your bedroom,’ he murmured, breath igniting a warmth in your skin. ‘Unless you want me to fuck you on the stairs.’

‘That sounds fun,’ you giggled, nipping at his bottom lip. ‘Maybe next time.’

You lead him up the stairs, hand entwined with his and keeping distance enough to make him frustrated. He expected to carry you there, to move your bodies there as if by magnetic force, but you made a point of showing him you would savor your brief moments of control teasing and teasing until he would break beneath the sheets.

In your bed, he learned you were greedy, demanding of his hands all over you much the way he wanted you all over him, cascading through and through until he was drenched. He learned his lips on your cunt put your hand in his hair and your voice on the walls, his name on your tongue just as biblical as a flood. He learned the clench of your walls on his tongue was an addiction, a sensation he wanted to feel again and again until you were trembling with the force. He learned you wanted to be bruised, wanted to carry him with you for longer than he would remain inside you, proud that he had stained you your favourite shade of purple.

Beneath your sheets, he learned you deserve a crown. That, more than anyone he had been with before, you took to him as though you were sewn from him, wrapping your thighs around his waist in coronation and refusing to let him leave. Hair splayed beneath you, strewn about the pillows, he wanted to paint you, to idolize you, and then, most of all, to defile you, to cover you with marks and his come until you accepted these things as your finery.

In the dark, he learned you liked the stars so much because you were one, glowing and burning beneath him until he could touch your core.

He learned love and sex are usually mutually exclusive, but not always.

And that the way things start, with a touch and a whimper and a smile, is usually how things end.

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[danetobelieve]

Lessons In Intent || Ricky and Winston

While Ricky had many things about his home that he liked, he had to admit that his absolute favorite place was his workshop. The guest house that he lived in had a two stall garage out back, but he’d never parked his truck in there, instead opting to renovate it into a place where he could come, blast music, and work on his craft. Recently however, he’d done some more renovating inside of it, condensing his stuff and clearing up about a third of the space for Winston to use. Since they’d started really claiming their magical ability for their own, Ricky had wanted them to have a spot for alchemy or whatever else they were trying, someplace safely away from the home they both lived in. He hardly noticed the lessening of his workspace however, as he had been completely and utterly consumed with his latest project. The fact that Remmy had solved his puzzle box so effortlessly and quickly had cut him in a deep deep part of his soul, and almost all of his spare creative energies were being channelled into making a new one, a better one, a harder one. Taking inspiration from several episodes of a podcast he’d been listening to, this newest design was founded on fractals, and the strange branching paths they took. A dodecahedron by general shape, it was the designs on the sides, laid in white and stained-black wood, that had to be shifted and manipulated to cause the complex locking mechanism to release itself, revealing the velvet lined interior. It had been weeks he’d been working on it, and with the sheaves upon sheaves of schematics drawn in his loving hand laid out in front of him, only about 30% of the actual assembly had been completed. It was his rabid focus, coupled with the loud music playing from the stereo behind him, that caused him to completely not notice Winston entering their shared creative space until he looked up through his curls, “oh hey dude! Sup?” 

When Ricky had suggested that Winston use the space in the workshop as their own, they had been skeptical. But they’d had a spare rig that they’d finally moved from their parents house that they wanted to set up and it gave them a good excuse to spend time with Ricky. Their lives were so full of supernatural shit now that Winston struggled to see their friend regularly. Hanging out adjacent to one another was interesting and after Winston set up that space that had been dedicated to them, they elected to spend time working on a small project. They had some questions about the extents to which enchanting could go, however it seemed to them that the main thing they had to master was the form of the spell. They started with something simple, a locking enchantment on a small cardboard box that would in theory mean that only Winston could open it. They were deep within the prep phase and ready to test out their first time attempting an enchantment. Honestly they weren’t hopeful that it would happen. After all their magic was unreliable at the very best of times and getting it to cooperate in doing something more complex then spontaneous combustion left Winston feeling somewhat skeptical at best. Entering the workshop, they nodded to Ricky. “Not much, just working on this thing.” They nodded towards the shoe box that they were carrying. It seemed prudent not to use anything of sentimental value until they got more competent. 

Winston was a particularly calming influence in Ricky’s life; the young mage/wizard/arcanist always seemed cool and collected during even the most stressful of times, and some of that rubbed off on Ricky, who could veer into the borderline manic without much difficulty. Setting down the tweezers he was using to place tiny pieces of wood onto a purely decorative panel for the box, Ricky took a moment to retie his errant hair back, brushing stray sawdust out of the dark curls as he looked across the workshop at Winston, “On a shoebox? Do you have a dead pet in there? I’m not necessarily against necromancy but it seems like thats some upper tier magic that maybe you shouldn’t fuck around with until you get the basics down. Like time magic, probably should steer clear of that too.” He consulted the plans in front of him as he resumed assembling the panel; this particular face of the twelve-sided figure inspired by the fractal nature of fern fronds. One hand held the tweezers idly as the other traced over the design, muttering measurements and courses of action to himself under his breath, switching from spanish to gaelic to english and back again as his mind plotted out his next moves. He didn’t understand the magic Winston worked but, it seemed to be working out for his friend and that was really all that Ricky cared about, “If you want different music on or need it turned down lemme know. I’ve got earbuds I can put in.”

“The shoebox isn’t actually going to be anything, actually. I just wanted to practice on something without potentially enchanting it into something which isn’t usable again.” Winston replied as they set it down. They’d carried a laptop and a stack of wires for various peripherals they were installing in their work space. Their place of work was still a work in progress but they were beginning to get things closer to the way that they wanted them. Pulling down a screen that they’d mounted on an old adjustable arm they’d borrowed from the scrap pile at the station. The amount of old tech that they were able to salvage from broken or old units was mind blowing and Winston already had several boxes of scrap in their room. “I’m planning on learning how to enchant things, seems to be a lot of adding runes to stuff and then imbuing it with power but I’d be interested in looking at the potential power sources that could be involved and what that would change for the enchantment. But that’s all very theoretical because until I have been able to set up the enchantment, which I haven’t been able to do. The theory of it all is fascinating but actually getting it to work in real life has been more difficult.” Their magic was either feast or famine. They were either setting giant crabs on fire or they were struggling to cause flames to burst into existence. “You’re good dude, the music is fine. Although I think that chronomancy and necromancy are definitely beyond my scope and not something I want to fuck with.”

It had become very evident very early on in their friendship that Ricky and Winston’s minds worked in incredibly different ways, and listening to them talk about magic really drove that point home. Whereas Ricky’s mind dealt mainly in abstracts, thoughts ebbing and flowing as randomly and ephemerally as the waves that had birthed him, Winston’s was sharp and regimented, a cascading series of logical statements and hypotheses that marched onward toward practical solutions. It had never been a point of contention between the two of them, however. In fact Ricky thought that if anything it made them function better together, able to see various parts of problems the other’s mind didn’t arrive at naturally. “Well… that sounds complicated as fuck my dude. But…” the last piece of the panel slid softly into place, gentle susurration of wood on wood marking its arrival, and Ricky gently and carefully set it in front of a neatly labeled placard for the glue to dry before he varnished it, “It also sounds like you’re getting more confident in it all. Couple of weeks ago you didn’t believe your magic existed, let alone be able to spout magical theory like that. You’re coming a long ass way.” Picking up the next page of the schematic he started carefully pulling pieces towards him, humming under his breath as he did. “Work still going well?”

The separation of personality between Ricky and Winston had always had different ways of approaching the problem. They’d gone looking for roommates and found each other. At first there had been some conflict and disagreement as there was in any relationship such as theirs but they had worked through most of it and had found that they were able to live successfully in harmony. They’d learned their habits and moods, when someone needed company and when they just needed to be left alone. “Magic is complicated as fuck,” Winston still felt wildly out of their depth, they’d barely covered the rudimentary fundamentals since they’d began reading up on magic and though they had a basic understand of the core knowledge that they required they were yet to be truly an expert, “although I have made a lot of progress and I understand more, there is more then I would ever be able to cover and I’m quickly running out of resources that I can use to actually learn stuff.” They knew what world they lived in now and now that they did know they found themselves wanting to know more. “It might be new but it is fascinating, I can’t believe that I was ignorant for so long…” they trailed off and shrugged. “Works fine, it’s boring and honestly doesn’t seem valuable when I could be back here. But I still want to help people and this is how I would be able to do that, so gotta keep going.”

Ricky carefully set the tiny wooden gear he was carving before he allowed himself to laugh, “I think that might be the understatement of the century, my dude. Magic seems CRAZY complicated… and I am literally an animal that is sometimes a person. Your shit makes my shit look simple.” He resumed his work, leaning over the table-mounted magnifier that allowed even him, with his terrible vision, to do the tiny minute work this project required. “I’m crazy proud of you dude,” he kept his voice low, willing himself not to breathe too heavily as he talked, “I’m sure when you exhaust your resources here, there’re other places you can get stuff from. I’m sure there’s some like… dark web for magi. Mages? Spellsluts? I dunno what you magically self-identify as.” The music continued on around them as they both worked and as he set down the finished gear, Ricky picked up another piece of wood, its future form sketched on it in pencil, “Well I mean don’t be too hard on yourself, dude. A lot of the not-normal parts of White Crest work pretty hard to keep ourselves under wraps. You probs had to have some like… magical coming of age before you could even be ready to see the stuff that’s lurking behind the scenes here.” His hardened look of concentration softened slightly into a fraction of a smile as Winston kept talking, it was one of the many things that bonded them together, the need to help people and do good, “Life isn’t all magic and monsters. You gotta leave time for the normal stuff too. The helping people stuff.” 

“Magic is crazy complicated but it seems to be so inherent within our world now that I wonder if perhaps there have been examples of scientific observation that is actually just magic,” Winston replied quietly before shrugging, “Is shapeshifting not magic in someway?” They weren’t really expecting an answer but it didn’t exactly seem like it was a natural thing that had evolved. Though Winston was far from sure about that. Ricky's admission of pride made Winston feel happy, they hadn’t heard it like that before and a smile dragged across their face. “Thanks dude, I am crazy proud of you too, I know this has all been … something.” Skylar, magic, cursed chests on a beach, it was all a lot for them to deal with and Ricky has led the charge. “Exactly, I get the impression that we live in an area that has a lot to offer for this sort of thing and I guess I’d just call myself a spell caster for now. Though a spellslut is a good one.” They considered their past ignorance and shrugged. “It’s whatever, I don’t understand how anyone can live in denial about these things after having their first encounter with it, that makes no sense to me, if you’ve had a brush with this then how could you deny it?” Setting the box down, Winston began working on the enchanting circle that they would need to draw before they could do their magic. It was precise work but they had spent a long time practicing it. “Sure, but it is the magic and monsters that I find interesting…” 

“It is, and I’m there’s a lot of overlap between science and magic in ways that we don’t necessarily expect.” Ricky sent the small piece of wood down on the bench, replacing the thin file he’d been using to grind its teeth back in its spot on his tool tray, more engrossed in the conversation than the carving, “Oh it’s absolutely magic. But it’s…. Sorta a loose kind of magic? Like. It happens. It’s a thing. One moment there’s a man, the next there’s a seal, and the sort of in between is less regimented than some other kinds of magic I think. But yet it’s totes magic. Just… involuntary magic. Or at least it’s magic that exists in a way that encompasses me so fully it at least appears involuntary.” Pushing himself back from his work table he moseyed over to the electric kettle and flipped it on, dragging a mug down from the shelf, “You want some tea?” He shrugged as he listened to the water start to heat up, “Denial is a powerful thing,” an unmistakable air of bitterness crept into his voice, “Just look at Skylar. Demonstrably not a human, knows the solution to her problems, refuses to accept that or the fact that she has agency in the level of misery in her life.” Ricky idly watched as Winston started to draw something, that he assumed was in some way tied to the magic he was trying to work on a shoebox of all things, “They are interesting. You know, up until you’re cursed for a month or something wrecks your dining room or a hunter tries to kill you. But. I definitely think just plain old human life would be way too boring for me.” 

“I’m starting to see that a lot in everything that I read, this exchange of energy for magic is interesting, I wonder if it could be harnessed differently.” Winston was thinking out loud, they weren’t expecting an answer yet. There was a lot of hardwork that they still needed to do. “Nah I’m good man,” they said as they looked up at their friend. They moved the marker that they were using in a specific motion, marking the box in the way that they had memorised. “I wonder how that came about,” they said generally curious, “this is all so cool, is it evolution, was it magical, was it a mixture of the two, I doubt we’ll ever actually know but even the possibilities are completely fascinating.” They considered Skylar’s situation quietly, frowning to themselves and shifting somewhat uncomfortably at Ricky’s words. They knew that they were right, but that didn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow. “I hope that she works it out, I’m getting really scared for her.” They paused for a second and gazed at their shoes. “Well, I don’t want to condemn or deny anything here, but I don’t think I would want to go back to not knowing. This is a world with so much potential and it’s almost being wasted by all these people who are too ignorant to engage with it.” 

As the kettle whistled, Ricky turned it off and filled his mug, plopping a tea bag in before moving back to his bench. “I think it’s one of those things where, if there was a distinct point where magic infected or changed evolution, it’s so far in the past and so buried in myth that short of legit time travel or oracular vision you’ll never find the clear point of separation. But it would be interesting, to know exactly how things like me came into being.” He pulled a trap full of tiny and well-labeled gears towards him, and set the schematic where he could easily read it. He’d checked a ton of books on locksmithing and clockwork out from the library, some of which they’d had to call in from other branches, and had given himself a series of progressively worse headaches trying to comprehend everything in them, but they’d all come together to make what he hoped was a diagram on paper that could be accurately mimicked in reality. “Mmmm.” he made a non-commital noise at Winston’s comments, retying his hair before bending to his intricate work, “Well. Me too. But also. Not my problem anymore. I tried being nice and supportive, I tried forcing her hand. She’ll figure it out or she’ll die and nothing I do will change that those are the only two outcomes.” He didn’t have the mental capacity to respond to the tail end of Winston’s comments, as he was entirely and wholly focused on the work of assembling one of the locking portions of the box, “Those people are dumb and will be purged by their own idiocy.”

Honestly, looking back at this with the blessing of hindsight, Winston would realise that things could’ve been left for a minute. Starting a semi complex incantation to enchant something, especially for the first time was a questionable move when you took into consideration the fact that Skylar might well play on their emotions. But they shrugged at Ricky and sat down in front of the box, shutting their eyes and slowly beginning to try and draw upon the well of power that they knew lived inside of them. They slowly and carefully began to chant in Latin, the incantation they had found was originally written in Latin and they’d spent all of their time committing it perfectly to memory. The tune that they had drawn onto the box began to glow faintly as they chanted and though they didn’t realise it at the time, the mixture of emotional turmoil at what could potentially be happening to their friend Skylar and what was some poor Latin pronunciation was enough to send things wrong. The rune glowed brightly and arch’s of arcane energy sparked from its surface. “Uh, Ricky,” Winston said having stopped chanting, “I might have fucked up.” 

Up until this moment, Ricky would have never known that magic had a smell. But it was there, over the smell of sawdust and wood varnish; acrid and ozone and pervasive. He hadn’t really been paying attention when Winston had started chanting, too engrossed in the minute trickery of his own projects. It wasn’t until that smell filled his sensitive nose and he heard them stop chanting that he noticed something was wrong. “Fucked up… how…?” He haltingly got up from his workbench, unable to look at the shoebox across the room, with how blindingly the arcane light sparked and flew off it. “That seems… very very bright. For a shoebox. Is uh…. is it dangerous?” It wasn’t long until Ricky had to press his hand to his eyes, the light too bright, stepping in front of Winston to shield them from… whatever might be about to happen. He could feel the light as an almost physical force, the magic pressing in on and against him and as it rose to a crescendo there was a brief moment where he wondered if he was about to die in a magical accident. Then. As suddenly as it had started it was finished, the room nearly pitch black after the incandescence Of magic gone wrong. “Win?”

“I don’t know how I fucked up, but it definitely is not meant to look anything like that,” Winston replied as they tried to draw the power back into themselves before realising that it was too far gone and whatever happened and they weren’t going to stop it right now. A bolt of arcane energy struck the panels of Ricky’s box and then the light exploded into the room and Winston was knocked off of their feet. Blinking, they managed to get rid of the spots on their eye and saw that the garage that they were in had been entirely encased with the various surfaces of Ricky’s puzzle box. “Uh, this apparently is how I’ve fucked up, I was just trying to put a locking enchantment on the box and it must’ve done something drastically wrong. Winston felt weak. Very weak. As if a good portion of their energy had been sucked from their body. 

“Okay I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t know shit about magic but that definitely didn’t seem like what you were trying to do.” Ricky reached down to offer his hand to Winston to help them up before he looked around at what…. He assumed… was still the garage. “Oh fuck.” Ricky didn’t see the carefully organized shelves and supplies that he was so proud of, instead he saw intricately carved pieces of wood arranged in a hauntingly familiar fractal pattern, and above where the door outside should have been was instead a very familiar set of initials; an R and C carved to look like a stylized wave. “So. Uh. Magic is uh…. About intent? Did I hear that somewhere? Maybe? Does uh… does it have to be your intent? Because… I might have been really fucking focused on the box. Like super focused on the box. Which… might be… why it looks like… the box maybe ate the garage? Or something like that. Either way. We might be in trouble. You’re smart right?”

Winston laughed. “Dude what gave it away that that wasn’t what I wanted to do…” they shook their head as they looked around them, “was it the flash of arcane light or the fact that I’ve turned our workshop into a giant version of your box… this is why you don’t fuck around with magic and I really should have known better but instead I fucked around with it, fuck fuck fuck fuck.” They looked around and moved over to the wall, placing their palms on the smooth surface of the wood. It was soft and well crafted beneath their touch. This was definitely something new. “Magic is definitely about intent and if you’re intent was to make a box and my intent was to lock that box then I am a little worried that we might well just be fucking locked in here,” they looked around the room, no doors or windows or even seams for them to pry open, “so we’ve got to find out a way out of a locked puzzle box.” They were well and truly fucked. They were going to die in here. Sweat beaded on their brow and Winston forced themselves to remain calm. They had to breath. There was a way out of here they just had to find it. “I am definitely not smart.” They looked around, what did they have to work with? 

“To be honest it was the blinding light and the almost 100% assuredness that I was going to die in a magical explosion. That pretty much made me confident that wasn’t your intended use of the spell. I’m pretty confident in the assessment that you don’t want to kill me.” Ricky scratched the back of his neck as he wandered around what was once his workshop. Whatever the spell had done with his box it hadn’t made a perfect copy. That would have been easy enough to solve; he’d spent so long drawing up the plans he could solve his own box in his sleep. But it had at the very least seemed to take the spirit of his box and transfer it into the prison cell they were now locked in “well I’m dumb as a box of bricks. So. That’s not great. But…” he trailed off a little as he looked at the walls, “okay okay okay. So. The original plan. Was about conversion. Take the original design and convert it in order of ascending scale into a different one.” Furrowing his brow he waved his hands around as he tried to explain. “I read a lot of books about fractals and clockwork and locksmithing in the last couple weeks. We just have to figure out what is the base pattern of the new design and that’s a good starting point.”

“I’ll be honest, there’s no way to know we aren’t dead but I plan to continue operating under the assumption I am still living until I know better.” Winston was starting to wonder if it was really safe for them to continue experimenting with magic in the house, they doubted that they had actually taken the proper precautions and if they made it out of this it was important that they took more steps to make sure that something like this didn’t happen again. “I don’t want to kill either of us if that makes you feel any better but of course there is apparently a limit to what I can handle.” They gazed at the array of shapes on the walls around them, they were trying to work out the shape from the lines facing everywhere. “Okay, so we solve the pattern, do you have any idea what the pattern might be?”

“Well… I’ve just been operating under the assumption that because I still have… you know… rational thought and understanding, we’re alive. I don’t believe in any sort of afterlife. But. I could be entirely talking out of my ass.. Because I’ve also never been magically bound in a facsimile of one of my projects before. So. brand new territory all around.” Ricky wandered around the border of the workshop, running his hands over the polished wooden pieces. “It would have been easier if your spell had directly copied my box. That would have been fine. But it just sorta picked up the vibe and went with it.” He pulled a piece of charcoal from a table and drew a box around a section of wood, “This looks like the fractal base. What all my schematics referred to as Pattern Prime. Original plan had three steps. Pattern Prime turns into Pattern Alpha, Pattern Alpha turns a larger section of the box into Pattern Beta, Pattern Beta turns a larger section of the box into Pattern Gamma, and then Pattern Gamma locks into the other panels of the box to finally make Pattern Omega. Only six of the twelve panels actually had moving pieces that connected to gears. The others were dummy panels meant to throw Remmy off the scent. So… yeah. That’s where we’re at with this. I mean I have axes in here. But somehow I think that’ll make it worse.” 

“Plato had a theory that when we die we as humans ascend to a plane of rationality and understanding, maybe we died and went there.” Winston wasn’t trying to be morbid. They didn’t really think that they were dead. But this situation was one of the more absurd ones that they had found themselves in. They couldn’t imagine the level of energy that it must have required for them to make this happen, even if it were accidental. They already felt exhausted. But they knew that it was possible that to resolve this they would have to expend more. Maybe they would have to start carrying an energy bar with them at all time in case they accidentally went too hard with the magic again. “It would have been easier if I could handle the most basic enchantments without locking us within a modified version of your puzzle box,” Winston was frustrated, apparently it didn’t matter what they did to learn they still were far from in control of their magic and there were very real consequences for their actions, “but also know I am judging you for calling them Pattern Prime, Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Omega. Wouldn’t it have been easier to call them pattern one, two, three, four or five?” They smiled gently despite the situation. “I wouldn’t advise axes either, I would like to keep as much of this intact because I don’t know what damaging an incorrect enchantment might do…” they shuddered to think, “Do you think that the actual mechanism could’ve been applied to this?” There was no physical mechanism in their garage normally.

“I’m sorry you’re gonna judge me for pattern prime and then sit here and Plato it up? You’re making it smell like nerd in here.” Ricky stuck his tongue out at his roommate and shrugged “that’s what some of the books called them so I just went with it. Also. I’m not human. So. I dunno if your Plato thing applies” seeing no other immediate recourse, Ricky wiped his charcoal covered fingers on a rag and set about making himself another cup of tea. “To be fair to you, dude, we don’t know how magic reacts to the presence of a non-human. I mean. I’m at least in some way magic, just not in any way with practical applications. That doesn’t seem like it’s setting up a good controlled environment for you to test your abilities in. You’re just starting out. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Looking around he idly bobbed the tea bag in his mug; sharp smell of citrus filling the air. “I mean. Confinement aside. This is honestly super fucking impressive. You turned a whole building into a magical prison! That’s awesome! If we weren’t inside it would be more awesome but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers.” Carrying his mug he moved to a section of the wall, pressing his ear against it as he attempted to slide a bit of paneling. “It doesn’t sound like there are gears behind it. This might just be a purely visual lock”

A wry smile danced its way across Winston’s face. “Yes that is exactly what I am going to do and if you have a problem with the stench of intellect then I can’t help you because that isn’t me.” At least they could still have a good time even if they were potentially going to die in this room. They looked at Ricky and nodded. “That is a very good point, I forgot that you were a seal, you look remarkably human for a seal you know that?” They looked around the room. They knew that Ricky was trying to make them feel a bit better by offering them the possibility of a way out of responsibility but they didn’t think that they could blame this on them. “I don’t think that the presence of a non human would have really affected it, maybe it did, but it might as likely been a problem with concentration or an error in the enchantment that I physically drew onto the box.” They would have to design a template to ensure that this was mitigated as much as possible in the future. They looked around the room as more energy drained from them and pulled open one of their draws and pulling out a protein bar in an attempt to refuel with something that would battle the energy drain they were experiencing. Rubbing their eyes free of tiredness, Winston adjusted their lenses. “Impressive sure, concerning that I am capable of doing either barely anything or fundamentally changing the reality of a situation… this is not what I had meant to do and honestly the fact that it turned out like this is somewhat worrying, although at least we know that we can create something like this in case we need it.” They reached out and placed their palm on the wall, and took a step back as they were staggered by the experience they felt. “I can’t find physical gears, but there seem to magical like, lines, almost as if we could line them up like the original puzzle box…” they looked at the panel Ricky was examining. “Turn that ninety degrees, that way the line will line up with the panel to the left and right and then turn the panel above it 270 degrees and that will complete a shape.” 

“It’s certainly not me. I am a confirmed and notorious moron. Any stench of intellect therefore has to be coming from you.” Winking, Ricky took another sip of his tea, “well that’s the point isn’t it. That I look human. Have to confuse all you landlubbers. Hide in plain site and all of that.” Being trapped in a magical box that may or may not contain just their souls since they may or may not have been dead already was surprisingly relaxing since he was stuck there with Winston. “If I ever need a magical prison, which, given the concentration of Hunters in town I might, I’m going to come to you because this is impressive.” He put his hands where Winston indicated and made the directed changes, watching as the dark and pale wood morphed into a different pattern “okay now you do to the same thing on the panel over there by the belt sander. The way mine worked you have to do each transformation on each panel as a group. So they all get the final switch at the same time.” Now that Winston had figured out the base pattern they were meant to be changing on the walls, Ricky felt a lot better about their chances. He was definitely more useful in the action portions of a plan, and now that he had action to do he could finally be helpful, “see. You’re the smart one.”

“You know that you’re quite literally studying art..” Winston pointed out with a frown, “I know that you don’t think you’re an intellectual or anything but you’re smart. I can’t do half of the things that you can…” they shrugged gently and nodded, “you do a very convincing job of looking human and acting human…” they smiled, “I was fooled for a long time and I lived with you. In hindsight the signs were all there.” They laughed and shook their head. “I wouldn’t expect anything more like this from me, this is something that is way beyond me, entirely accidental, not what I wanted at all and I wouldn’t want to even attempt something like this without more guarantees, this trial and effort escape isn’t something I ever want to risk repeating.” Winston followed Ricky’s instructions and began rearranging the panels of the walls. It was good that Ricky was there to help them otherwise the actual practical application of the changing of the panels would’ve certainly escaped them for much longer then it had Ricky. With their help however they were able to make the prescribed changes. “I’m the one who can cast spells, it is a little different.”

“I’m plenty talented, don’t get me wrong. I’m an incredibly skilled craftsman, as evidenced at least in part by this fucking prison we’re in. This spell is a little bit both of us I think. But one of my students explained it in a super nerdy dungeons and dragons way once. I’ve got shit intelligence, but plenty of points in wisdom. I’m not book smart for damn sure. But. I’m intelligent in other ways.” Ricky couldn’t help but laugh a little, “a lot of the supernatural is right there if you know what signs to look for. But.That’s the problem. Humans don’t know what to look for. So. It’s pretty easy for us to slip between the cracks” he vaulted a low bench to get to the other side of the shop and mimic the change they’d affected on the first two panels on a section half hidden behind a bookshelf. “Bah. That’s just you selling yourself short, draoi. It’s beyond you now. It’s accidental now. That does not mean it’ll be accidental or beyond you forever. You think I started out making boxes like this? Statues like that?” He gestured to the other side of the shop where a half-finished statue of icarus, wings melting as he fell, stood on a bench, “hours and hours and hours and hours of practice. Shitty duck after shitty duck until they became less shitty.” He stood on a bench to reach a higher portion of the wall, shifting and twisting panels until the second iteration of the design fell into place. “Mimic this on your wall. This is one of your shitty ducks. You just need to put in more hours. Don’t forget that you’re fundamentally altering the fabric of the universe. That’s gonna take some fucking practice.”

“Ricky, as much as this might amaze you, we don’t actually live within a dungeons and dragons game. Now I know that might indeed be somewhat mind blowing.” Winston laughed gently and shook their head. “I’m fucking with you, I think that you’re right. We don’t know what we’re looking for, but you guys seem to and that is where we compliment each other. But unfortunately I do think that you’re right and that this is an amalgamation of this stuff. A combination of both my magic and your magic too. Not necessarily in the most ta but it is still there.” They shrugged gently and sighed, feeling a little deflated. “I know that it is something that has to keep going, I know that it is something that is going to take time to learn, but I can see all of these amazing possibilities, I can see all of these amazing things and feats that I could be doing to help people and I can’t because I have only just found out about this.” They sometimes wished that they were like Penelope or Morgan, they both knew exactly what they were doing and how they were going to do it. Winston would give almost anything to have that kind of courage and confidence. 

“You know I really hope we’re not dead because this is a lot of sass to spend eternity with. If this was dnd I’d have some dope armor and as I currently don’t have dope armor I’m unfortunately very aware this isn’t a fun fantasy magical world.” Ricky looked at the walls, eyes following the patterns until he saw the crossroads he was looking for. Unfortunately they were nearly at the ceiling, which meant he was standing on his tiptoes on top of a workbench trying to shift the panels “you’ve got time dude. You’re 24. You’ve got years to get good and do all the amazing and helpful bits of magic you’re dreaming of. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be capable of it one day.” He jumped to get the last piece in place before clambering down and moving to the other side of the workshop to do the same on another panel. “Just use them as stretch goals. Some people keep pictures of what they want to look like on the mirror. You can just keep spell descriptions.” Finishing the panel he was working on he looked around the prison, “there should just be one more mutation. Then we find out if we’re dead or not!”

“I really hope that we’re not dead because I’ve yet to fulfil my dream of actually owning dope D&D armour,” Winston quipped back in reply, “not to mention that dying in a bizarro prison box realm isn’t exactly my idea of fun.” Nervously, Winston watched Ricky stretch as they adjusted the ceiling panels and did their best to help out. Their balance was much less adept then Ricky’s so they took it much slower. But they were determined to help. “I know, I know, everyone always says that there is time for everything but inherently isn’t that a lie, there won’t be time for everything. There’ll definitely be time for new magic don’t get me wrong, but what if I don’t get to do everything I want?” It had always been a fear. They didn’t want to leave White Crest but they also knew that if they stayed forever they might miss out on some stuff. Looking around them, Winston looked for the final thing that they would have to change. “Any idea what we’re looking for?” they said as they scanned the room through their glasses. 

“I made a joke to Deidre about having cool ass armor and now I have the distinct impression it’s gonna show up at our door one day. I think she has entirely too much disposable income on her hands.” Ricky couldn’t help but grin as he looked around the room to try to figure out the last set of steps to unlock their magical prison. “Hey. This was a bizarro prison realm house but we made it a bizarro prison realm home.” Ricky let his eyes drift out of focus slightly as he wandered the room, trying not to see the details but only focus on the big picture, “well that’s just part of being alive. Not even human. Just alive and mortal. The fear that you won’t have time to do all the things you want to do, accomplish all the goals you want to accomplish. But there’s really no way to plan or prep for the great vastness of possibilities that life is. You can’t prepare for every outcome. So. I guess you just do what you can and try not to regret anything else.” His strange erratic orbit of the room stopped abruptly as he saw what he was looking for. “There!” He pushed a stack of notebooks aside and started to rearrange the pattern on one of the walls “it’s gotta be that. Do that on your wall and I’ll get the third one and that should, fingers crossed, be the final pattern.”

“Deirdre is weird, I don’t know why she would have an excess of income but she is definitely the type of person to spend an absurd amount of money on something like armour, but i think that fae cultures — which is a phrase I NEVER thought that I would say — anyway fae cultures are kind of different to ours, which is why Deirdre is y'know Deirdre.” Winston had a knot in their stomach and was far from convinced that they weren’t dead. But this was their mess to clean up and they were determined to do it. At least that way they would know about the fate of their own mortality. “There is no one that I wish I could get stuck in bizarro realms with more then you.” 

Winston was kind of curious as to what was real and what was fiction. How did you actually tell these things apart? It wasn’t like there was an encyclopedia monster book or anything. Ricky seemed to have spotted something that he thought was important and Winston was quick to follow his instructions, slotting his part of the wall into the allotted spot that Ricky had suggested. “Okay, it is in place, now we have to do the third one right?” 

“Oh thank god you know about her. It’s getting really hard to keep track of who knows who is what. But yes. If I remember stories my mom told me about them, bestowing favors upon mere mortals… like me and you… in the form of spectacular armor is right up her alley, as a fae.” He cast his gaze around the room as Winston moved and changed the wall they were near to align the patterns into what Ricky hoped was the final and correct position, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in awhile, dude. I appreciate that. We’re bizarro prison realm buddies for… well… I sure as fuck hope not for life but for as long as it takes to get out of there.” Finding the last spot on the wall behind a bench, Ricky dragged the heavy set of shelves laboriously out of the way, fingers shaking slightly as he moved the wall into the final piece of the puzzle. As the last piece slid into place he heard, and felt in the pit of his chest, a click, and turned to see exactly what he had hoped for; a panel sliding back onto itself, revealing a button on the wall roughly where the door should have been, “That… should, and I”m really going out on a hopeful limb here, be the button to unlock this enchantment. We did everything like the box operates, and it revealed a button like the box does. So. It’s your spell dude… you wanna do the honors?”

“Honestly, I know exactly what you mean, the number of times I’ve almost ‘outted’ someone in a supernatural sense is ridiculous. And it’s not like you can act as if you know or it’s a normal thing because then all the normies will get their pitchforks and torches out and I can’t be bothered with a literal witch hunt.” Winston laughed at their own comment before continuing their train of thought. “Though I will admit that I’m hopeful for the armour, for your sake. Not that you’d ever use it. It’d be good furniture.” Winston turned and looked at Ricky before shrugging. “I mean it dude, I don’t know that there are many people that I would happily keep living with, ironically you being a seal hasn’t really changed that.” Looking as Ricky activated the next section, Winston was amazed as a panel of the wall slid backwards and revealed a button. “Well,” Winston replied swallowing nervously, “I guess here goes nothing.” They took a step forward and pressed the button on the wall, watching it compress and click into place and nervously waiting for their potential and inevitable death as the room was enveloped in a bright magic light.

“God I know exactly what you mean. I’m always just like… oh god…. Who knows what. I feel like I need a super complicated spreadsheet just to try to keep track of who knows what identity, my own included.” Ricky beamed over at his roommate, “Oh come on man. You know I would wear that shit all the time at home. Making brunch? Wearing my armor. Sorting the mail? Wearing the armor. Vacuuming? Wearing the armor.” Ricky couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head, “At least with a seal man hybrid I’m not leaving fish guts around. I’ve got some human sensibilities.” Ricky would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t shaking a little as Winston approached the button and pressed it, another blinding flash of magic he could feel in his bones filling his field of vision as he hoped the spell that bound them in the garage was unravelling. When the bright light faded he was overjoyed to see the garage back to its normal state, and the door showed the trees outside the garage, “FUCK YES!!!!” He shouted, vaulting a table and throwing the door open, “We’re not dead!! We solved the puzzle spell and we’re not fucking dead!!!!”

“I’ve just resorted to always being incredibly vague and hoping that I never say anything that needs too much explaining. It’s like living a million falsehoods all at once and not knowing which one you have to resort to next.” Winston was pleased that they weren’t the only one struggling with it. “That seems like it would be incredibly inconvenient and potentially uncomfortable to be constantly wearing a suit of armour. Especially whilst vacuuming.” They paused and shrugged. “I can deal.” Winston blinked several times at the light as it enveloped them and then as quickly as it had come it was gone. Winston stood there for a moment, dazed and confused by the entire situation. Then they realised that they had made it and for the moment were in fact very much alive. Sighing a very deep relief, Winston slumped backwards into their desk chair and grinned. “Ahaha!” they hooted with glee, “Fuck dude we actually solved it, I don’t think your puzzle box is hard enough dude.” They grinned and looked at the very mundane shoe box that they had failed to enchant, pulling their glasses off and rubbing their eyes exhaustedly. “I think I’m done with enchanting shit for today.” 

#p: ricky #para #wickedswriting #lessons in intent

[gg-astrology]

🌊

Hello!❤️💙🖤 Dropping in a little bit today bc I had? some stray thoughts about scorpios ;; ❤️💙🖤 

Scorpios and the idea of ‘black and white’ ⬇️

- adapting, personal identity and 'open-mindedness’ 

Alternatively NOT for scorpios, but for anyone who struggles to be ‘open-minded’ enough.

Or struggle with ‘accepting’ things right now ( ‘want to be better’ )  

🚫long post 🚫

y know.. ive just been thinking about -- well, myself. And how i AM a black and white kind of person. As most people are? 

Most of us tend to think of ‘black and white’ as connotation for being bad nowadays, we don’t usually like to admit it. Rather, we usually go ‘no no im not -- im not like that im open-minded and trying to be understanding’ - which isn’t exactly what black and white might be like to the person? 

I’m black and white in a way that I know who I am, and I know what I’m comfortable with. My space is big and small at the same time -- it’s not just me, but others as well. The people and the circumstances, the environment around me in my space and what i consider to be spaces i’m into. 

I think that within this space - I’m comfortable with getting to know new things, of accepting it, or being good and nice and comforting around it. Anything that pops into my stream of comfortability - of course I’d be wary of it at first -because this is a safe space. But it can integrate, assimilate into my space. It can be loved and it can be accepted. It doesn’t mean that you stay stuck in your own head - to me - black and white just means I have a flow for myself and I have to integrate it into me before I push it out into the stream.

It’s kind of like a stream with a flow of it’s own - water rushing, one direction, sometimes it gets big or small. It’s just the general idea of being comfortable in the different spaces of that stream because it’s your stream. 

I get uncomfortable if this space co-joins with another stream - another group of consciousness or people. It’s the different water temperature that gets me - sometimes maybe this new stream is cold - so cold that when it meets my stream (the one I’m familiar with) - I need to adjust to the new temperatures. It rucks up my sedimentary banks as well, things beneath the grounds, it ruffles the little organisms, treasures, things and brings it up. Evaluate it, turn it into a new leaf that I’m not prepared for/don’t know what they’re going to do with it. 

It’s very human to need time to adjust. Since your body doesn’t do well if you’re suddenly pulled into freezing cold temperature and a flow of water is moving in a different direction. Gut-reactions, impulses. These things (knowing you’re not prepared/used to it) keeps you safe and on your feet (as well as being pretty Scorpio and Martian as well). 

Motion exists - this new stream might be pulling in a different direction, you can’t stop your body from being pulled to a different rotation. You get dizzy if you’re the flow of the water. That’s just - how we can’t control certain things and how we have to adapt to it. How our biological body adapts but it needs time to do so (cool down/warm up). 

Sometimes it’s the expectations that we have to accept something immediately, when we don’t understand the meaningfulness of the purpose, of the concept to the other person. 

Most of the time, we have some pre-conceived ideas and concepts, we’ve assimilated we have to break down in order to get through to accept new ones. 

I don’t think having it is not not being open-minded? I think it’s very? what? consumerism? fast-consumerism? to expect things to happen just like that. 

Like oh just accept it (which can be good! and what is needed !) - but sometimes, the meaning behind it gets lost. Those who does this can still act out of ignorance because they don’t understand the true significance behind it. And they end up hurting the person after they accepted it, because they don’t actually understand it or stand by it- hesitance and not knowing yourself, sometimes kinda sucks to feel about your own person.

Adapting to things always takes time. Maybe this stream is slower than our stream - things that we aren’t used to or isn’t a part of us yet.  

Imagine a different case/scenario. If we didn’t have this - like, if we just expect people to adapt to different streams intersection into our lives all the time. We’d be totally dizzy and ill-prepared, we’d be off our footing all the time. 

With no idea of who we are, our own sense of identity and assimilation of the goal behind it into our core-values. How are we supposed to integrate into being a better person, if we never actually commit to understanding the concept + adding it into what we value/sense of identity? 

Sometimes it’s harder to not know our own identity, because we’re swayed by so many motions. Than it is to just think about swimming in different pulls of streams all the time.

Some people do well when they ARE prepared to jump into different streams, different intersectionality. But thats because 1) they’re prepared and 2) that’s inherently a part of who they are and learning about things, gathering stuff. More yang-signature than yin of nature to me.  

If I were to say who I am - I’m more prepared to go ‘ok, i’m dizzy.’ and set my foot down. To open up and make the stream settle into one, cohesive lake. Where there is a pull and language, understanding for it all (for the different intersectionality) and mediate from there instead.

Everybody wants to love, and to comfort and accept. I hope nobody actually wants to keep good things out of their lives if they can’t help it (well, healthily anyways). 

But rather than just gobbling up and saying ‘i accept’ over and over, in order to be ‘open-minded’ without truly understanding the significance behind it (the whole story) - sometimes we need time to understand something, to adjust, to look out and tread cautiously so we don’t get hypothermia or burnt. And that’s sometimes a part of self-preservation and/or attack or defenses.  

Does this make sense? Next time you think about Scorpios - try thinking about water flowing in a direction. Streams can help, whether some part of it is big or small. Things live in streams, micro-organism, fishes, etc. It curves and it follows, it’s a strong current that has it’s own path. 

Bending that path by man-made effort, requires understanding and respect - mostly of its original stream. The significance of the stream’s original responsibility - to other organism, to things it dutifully carries over its waters towards, nourishing trees and it’s resources, animals that are too nervous to be around humans. There’s more to it than what we see - or what we want it for our immediate benefit personally. Rather than jumping into the fray and seeing it from our own perspective/wants/needs only, some sights and consideration for what it does might help to aggravate them a little less. 

Black and white doesn’t mean it’s automatically unaccepting. Black and white can also mean there needs to be some understanding in-between, takes time to adapt, to seek out/find resources, some clearing of space, to make room for the new things to come in. Things when they are secured (like a lake/pond - Scorpio fixed sign) are cohesive and uniformed. Sometimes it requires pausing in order to be accepted, to settle and to see where things land. 

Adapting sometimes doesn’t happen like a snap of your fingers for everyone, and we probably shouldn’t expect it cold water to clash with hot water and there not to be steam coming off from it. But that doesn’t ultimately mean that there won’t be changes - whether its done by the person or those who evoke those changes themselves. 

Sometimes it’s saying one thing - but then going through to evaluate the thought, the turmoil inside - and then coming out the other end accepting it. I think that’s what it’s like for me - I’m not an all-accepting, open-minded person either - but that’s because I’m human and I need to adapt. 

I need time, and to make space inside myself, to evaluate things inside of me in order to do so. And I think that’s something most people can do. Or should do? in their life maybe.

The archetype of Scorpios.. I’ve been thinking alot about as well. How Scorpio’s greatest attack is their defenses, the resilience that makes them seem almost impossible to stop. 

In their gift of realizing deception, rejecting hollowness and seeing through shallow facades, Scorpios are not afraid to expose realty for what it is; they are the emissaries of a more complete sense of truth than many of us are prepared to contemplate, the penetrating aspects of it often being too painfully sharp for comfort. 

There’s a part where Scorpio and Virgos are very similar. And I think I’m mostly gathering my understanding about this from a very Virgo Mars perspective. 

I do think the idea of Scorpios being black and white + sediments being rucked up when soil underwater is disturbed, can talk a lot about being protective of things that shouldn’t be quickly consumed. We can sometimes be too impatient, so quick to want others to explain things or be/communicate or understand things just like us. But people aren’t always - not all are the same. 

Some people needs time, hot meeting cold water, water flowing in different directions. These things takes time, especially if you think about the body of water actually housing banks of organism underneath it’s watery body. If you walk in - even if it’s well-intended- trying to pull the stream towards yourself, sometimes you don’t know what significance it has, this is just asking for everyone involved, to put in the consideration and thoughtfulness for the nature (of others) around them as well.

Anyways! Yeah, this is some thoughts. ;; I tried to go over it a couple of times. Here’s more about Scorpio and it’s qualities, archetype if you’re interested. It’s where the above excerpt came from as well. I hope this comes across well, and give you some kind of hope, peace or calmness if that’s what it comes down to. 

In conclusion for those who feels like they are struggling: know yourself first, before you learn to know/accept/learn about others. Sometimes the struggle is just us being pulled taunt in different streams, different temperature and we’re reacting to it. Let our bodies adapt and let our mind (gut or feelings) assimilate the idea on our own terms. 

Sometimes we’re putting up a struggle because we’re trying to 1) assimilate the idea in and 2) know ourselves as well. Those two things can be at odds, and cause up a reaction (just like steam when temperatures met). 

If there’s things we need more time on, or things we don’t brush off, we struggle to work through. There’s more chances of coming out of this much more self-loving, accepting and understanding the significance much better processed. It takes time, but know yourself. Whether you’re stuck in a rut and you’re more of a jumping stream person, or whether you’re a calm-water person and is stuck in between water flow that’s different. Let’s learn to know ourselves a little better and adapt as we’re prepared for it.  

#personal #psa #update #scorpio #scorpios #virgos #honestly can u tell im a capricorn #makes me think that the easier assimilated #like pisces and cancer #or capricorn and virgo #are like #things that comes into the stream of Scorpio #they'll have favourites and those they enjoy in their waters #as well as those theyre like damn can i kick this b out #but thats #like #pretty neat isnt it #to think about it this way sometimes #anyways

[bonbonswirl-blog]

Answer

All characters belong to @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING.

I dont even have to say this is not canon. This one is a part of the bad fanfics its very rushed so if you didnt like reading I wont blame you at all XD

The whole studio was in a turmoil

Every single worker was rushing together to join the jammed crowd, all of them Clustering a single certain "chipper" person that all the studio knew and loved, or thats what they thought he was, until the cruel truth had been discovered. What is that truth you ask? Well, it seems that a specific young, organist may had very accidently dropped a clear evidence that reaveled his...

Real identity.

A wall behind him, a hundred of people imorisoning him in a small circle, there was no way of escape. Everyone he met, everyone he talked to, everyone he helped, everyone he friended, everyone, are now locking him up for interrogations with no where to go, nobody is by his side, nobody. The crowd seemed to flow down with every new person joining in every second. Who could have assumed that Johnny, the sweet boy who would light up the air every time he is present, is the same person as the mafia leader who is in the top of every police force dangerous criminals list? It was all unintelligable. Sadly, the truth never lies.

Hundreds of thousands tones of voices erupted around him, all filled with anger, confusion, even dissapointment. Johnny dark motives were invisible to everyone, cause they never imagined it, they could never do. Inside all of them is one question. 'why?' It had no way of an answer, or atleast for now. How could they get answers? Where will they get answers? What will you say as an answer for the reason behind your actions?

Johnny just stood there as still while the magnitude of his panic swept over him. the gravelly tones flowed to his ears like a cold tide. Every word over pronounced, slicing rather than tumbling through the dry air. All these voices were like small parts of a cluster exploding his brain, it was on fire now anyway. His eyes shifting to both sides in a rapid speed. Everyone is a stranger now, everyone is infurated, everyone is a....former....friend? Pretty sure he will be alone from now on, nobody was having the pleasure of watching the horrified recognition of who he was spread over his perfect features. Questions shot faster than gunshots at him, all at once from every single angle that he couldnt even get any kind of a simple word from anyone or anything, the world was erasing around him.

Remorseful, Guilty. That was how he felt at that very moment. He wished for a Time Turner so he could go back, rectify the mistake , the worst of all he had done. However, he cant, Impossible, He has to live with it. Remorse etched at his heart. Guilt gnawed like a worm at the core of an apple, making it impossible for him to put his self bacm together. The questions seems to never end, eaither they are eternal or on a loop, both around his head inside and out. He just wanted it all to stop, to finsh, he wished he could press his hands over his ears not hearing anymore pain. The Only thing he ever heard was from the person in the front row standing infront of him, which was his boss blondie with a sentence of "Johnny we trusted you!..." type. He was mad too, Just like all. The sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped from his chin, free flowing like condensation on a window pane. What could he say? What could he do? How would he explain? He cant, he doesnt even deserve to, its his fault since the start, it will always stay his fault. He analyze every action and speech and writhe in the agony of paths taken, he fret about what others will think of him, well now he knows why he was very concerned. The feelings his friends held for him hadnt gone, right? But Everything had now just been distorted into a close mimic of....'hatred'? He bundled all the hitting panic into his chest. Tension grew in his face and limbs, his mind replaying the last. more shallow. In these moments before his personal hurricane. He could feel it, building like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of his stomach. He cannot concentrate on anything else. Being alone while he is starting over and his whole world is crashing down. Everyone stayed shocked when the the hidden veracity was uncovered. And Jacque was No expection, Nobody was in a bigger denial than he was.

How could a truth be so cruel?

His heart felt like it was beating in a tight cage. He was connected to a part of johnny others never feel. His emotions are not perceptible, they are him, and they consumed him.

It was as if johnny heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots.

When he saw two cops appear in the studio.

"No..."

His pupils couldnt be more dilated. How?!? When?!? The only question he knew an answer for was "why". But at that moment he didnt know that..someone called the police on him. He couldnt believe, they are here to get him, to take him, to arrest him. He wanted to jump right out of his skin and join the ether. This is too much, he cant take it anymore. The constricted feelings grew, as if he was strangled by just the air around him. He was terrified of whats going to happen the next second....Watching the rest of the police team emerge from behind, Made him feel the urge to run, escape, hide

This was the moment.

He took a step back to leave, but a wall still blocking his way, without a thought he toke the other road. Pushing people out of the path then running aimlessly. His brain in mental conflicting instructions, he hoped he was Trapped in his own psychosis, a living nightmare for him, tailor made by his own brain to play on her deepest fears. But sadly

You cant escape everytime.

He couldnt dodge the two men who held his trembling arms faster than lightning, immobilizing him painfully to the cold ground, it wasnt colder than the way his heart froze. As Police slapped on the handcuffs He was forcefully lifted up on his feet, With the limb he given he took heavy steps until the outside, he was familiar to these officers though he did not recognize them, it was time to take him to the ward. All the surrounding eyes watching their beloved oragnist led his way out of their lives. Nobody was able to shout for him a last word, maybe they had pushed him a little too hard....They did want to meet him or catch a glance of him before his finale departing, with a rush of footfalls after the officers under the dark sky in a hope for a change of events, those of course were just useless wishes. There was Only One person who dared enough to yell from behind, speaking for all.

"Stop he isnt what you think he is! I-i-i am sure there is some kind of mistake!" That was what jacque tried to persuide those 'harsh' officers, or more likely himself. Then out of expection, johnny turned around. "Tell them johnny! Tell them there is something wrong here!! Tell them this isnt you!!" But when their gazes intertwined like they never used to, the waves of regret hit them like a rock eroded by the sea. johnny had to turn around, sadly in words never wanted to be heard.

"This is the truth jacque.."

Those grey eyes bored into the lyrcist as if trying to convince him he wasnt lying. However, he still found it hard to believe. Johnny had always been so honest and telling, so he wondered why he didnt believe him now, he didnt want to, yet the burnette quivering lower lip begged him to believe, and his heart told him he would never lie to him. Johnny couldnt look into anyone eyes straightly anymore.

 "...johnny?...." "..im sorry..." It was his last whisper, a whisper only the two cops and jacque could hear, before The officer in front opened the door with the 'criminal' dipping his head into the police cruiser, all out of balance before he is lost from view behind windows, apparently he doesnt warrant that. but behind him every curtain twitches. The damp evening disappeared with the slam of the door. Its not a fast run with flashing lights, just a slow ride to be questioned, to be prisoned. The blue and red lights are little more than smudgy illuminations in the slanting blackness.

Stakeout was over.

The mood of the people swirled in an unseen currents beneath the dark surface of their faces. And Jacque has never been in a deeper denial, but the truth is truth. He remained watching the car driving away with his love, Not caring about any kind of loud noises before him. The sadness drained through hum rather than skating over his skin. It travelled through every cell to reach the ground.

Oh, Why the world must be so cruel?

If only, if only This was just a nightmare of sorts, if this was just a bad vision. Tonight he wont only be broken, but shattered into fragments more numerous than the stars. He wanted to beg, plead, get down on hid knees and tell the leaving man that his life here had a meaning. He felt a division of his body and soul. The body wasnt dead, the soul in the other hand, wasnt the same condition. There was something deep feeling in his chest, something inexplicable. The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks. His gaze fell to the ground. In that moment the sure knowledge that life would go on without him, that time was only stopped for him. there was nothing he could do. With no way to break through his silence a chasm opened between them. This could not be johnny. This could not be his life.

It hurts...but it can heal...He will heal, right? Well.

One this known for sure is that

He wont move on any time soon.

#brueklynn #jacque francis #johnny jonah

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 8? IS IT 8 ALREAD- YEAH IT IS.

oh god its been 8 weeks already i dont like that these chapters reveal how much time im WASTING but c’est la vie as always lets put these assholes on blast:

moving SWIFTLY on!!!!!!!!!!!!

(also what do you mean ‘it’s the meat chapter’. wh. what meat. hello.)

She slumped back against uncomfortably warm stone, trying to tuck her feet back into the shade.

it’s a known fact that glynda is all Long all Angles and also a lot of Beef,

this is? the date, right? the date chapter? yes? all the chapters have been shuffled around i have NO sense of where i am because all thats happened for 7 chapters is ive been assaulted by lesbians but given the distant chanting of meat meat meat this must be the date.... right.........................................

OH THAT MEANS WE GET TO SEE CINDER’S DRESS NICE

Cinder’s smile flashed through Glynda’s mind, and she shifted against the stone wall, reaching for her Scroll.

my favourite thing is how whenever cinder and glynda think of each other its never not got crazy gay energy............. this is LITERALLY like the whole ‘i sleep next to a photo of my enemy’ deal!!!!!!!!!!! they’re both just attracted to dangerous (and also stupid) people, is the thing,

The Grimm swarmed, biting insects with snapping mandibles, their chitinous exoskeletons all scraping against one another with their constant, eager writhings.

YES thats some GOOD IMAGERY RIGHT THERE IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF UH-HUH

honestly i- OKAY LOOK I SAID IT BEFORE BUT I STAND BY HOW OFFAL HUNT IS SO VISCERAL... i love writing thats like............ kinda Uncomfy to imagine but also rly detailed and just rly digs into the gore and the grossness............ its GOOD CONTENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank god offal hunt just whaps u in the face w/ it like a damp sock,

we’re got a bit of slow start here which is a nice way to  slice the difference between earlier ‘gotta go fast’ glyn and this ‘actually i’m way out of my depth’ glyn. wow! i can BREATHE. and we havent had anything massively cheeky pop up yet which may be a new record all round

The ripples of its being reached Glynda with ease, consuming those of the smaller Grimm. It was dangerous. More dangerous by far, even out here among these ancient beasts.

mmmmmmmmmmm this is- okay slight spoilers but i presume this is hati? aka he who had like a handful of lines in the first version and was generally just... look hati was winner of The Most Vague award in the first version so i’m hoping its hati because i am CURIOUS ABT THIS BOY.................. who i coincidentally love. who is he? we’re not sure (yet) but i love him. its just a fact!

It wasn’t just consumption. It was desecration. Vile unmaking. The Grimm stripped away her flesh. Tasted of her marrow. Gorged itself on the gristle between her bones and peeled back her ribs to reveal the chasm within. It sucked the soul from her chest in a wash of red and agony that spanned centuries, each running over the raw meat of her like long, black claws—

I JUST LOVE THE WAY THIS SHIT GETS DESCRIBED ITS SO SATISFYING also i feel like there should be a tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny fingerguns in here t e c h n i c a l l y but im not gonna cause its vague enough i can kiiiiiiiiiiiiiinda move on kinda slightly maybe

It felt like death itself had caught her in its massive maw, chilling her organs, reaching for the soul at the core of her.

OKAY FINE 👈😡👈

OKAY FINE YEAH THE REST OF THIS IS ALL CHEEKY FINGERGUNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that said this is all RLY VITAL STORYTELLING and im rly glad we’ve got some expanded Glynda Lore because it was Lacking in the archived version... but now we’re full on until glynda backstory babey!!!!!!!! yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fear itself couldn’t touch her, and even as she thought this, she felt it drain away.

Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. Information trickled in, unburdened by emotion.

👈👈👈😡👈👈👈

glynda rly DOES only have half a braincell Huh

OKAY DATE TIME? DATE TIME? YES? MAYBE?????????????? god ive been looking forward to this stupid gay date for so long. EIGHT WEEKS. EIGHT.

A pause. “Are you familiar with the Hill of Roses Massacre?”

ah the return of the Plot (that Isnt The Gay Bit)

i was gonna Say A Thing, and then answered my own question, and then realised it’d be spoilers anyway. YAY SPOILERS! YAY NOT BEING ABLE 2 SAY ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so yeah theres a lot going on here dsdjhgf

“Well, it was your class, so.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

/ticks off ‘anything to do w/ ozpin’ off the bingo card, again,

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that, Glynda. With this meeting on the horizon… I fear I would cloud your judgement.”

oz i love u and yr cryptic bullshit but this will not the first Nor The Last Time glynda and i are both exasperated w/ u. please. blease.

Ozpin had never misled her before.

👈😂👈

“I’m only following orders.” Written with the same implication as a wink. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Professor?”

i fucking adore winter schnee i’d DIE for her

i may have to make a spoiler version of this later because theres Some Shit being said here and i DIRELY have to expand upon it but that will have 2 wait dskfjsdf

When they saw she was human, they waved her through without any trouble.

i still feel like im being targeted for my url!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! U ASSHOLES,

As much as she could, Glynda tried to avoid the constant bump of shoulders and too-tight quarters. As large as she was, it was nearly impossible,

what did i say!!!!!!!!!!!!! we LOVE one beefy bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(im literally getting SO excited for the date reveal im VIBRATING)

She still didn’t have much of an idea what waited within, but she had quite a few reservations about using the front door.

me: knows whats coming also me: glynda please

As a Huntress who’d been trained in both subtlety and stealth, Glynda had a few ideas.

The next person who stepped outside was thrown roughly aside,

ME: GLYNDA PLEASE,

you have no idea how often im just. i have my face in my hands. glynda’s never heard of a repercussion in her life. cinder once saw the word ‘consequences’ and broke out into hives. im. where’s the thinking-

And then she noticed Cinder.

here comes the peak gay im so ready HERE IT COMES-

Her hair was tossed over one shoulder as always, but in place of her usual crimson dress, she wore black tonight. Dark fabric with but a hint of iridescent specks rippled around her ankles, rising up to stretch tight across her hips. It rose all the way to the hollow of her throat and was cut to be sleeveless, though Cinder wore gloves of the same material that rose nearly to her shoulders.

HERE IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god u may know i drew a shitpost of this scene and now i Have to redraw it to be even Sexier!!!!!!!!!! also i know glynda could argue she’s being Observant but i also think, she’s a home of saxophone, and is gay,

LIKE ‘stretch tight across her hips’ WHY YA L O O K I N

Glass heels clicked over the dark stone floor as Cinder stopped right in front of Glynda, looking up at her from beneath lofty bangs. Gold eyes swept from the crown of Glynda’s head to the crop gripped so tightly in her hand—and then Cinder smiled.

there is No heterosexual explanation for this

Cinder clicked her tongue. “Well, now that you’re here, shall we?”

“Shall we…?”

“Glynda,” she chided, rolling her eyes. “Dinner, of course.”

IM LOSING MY MIND AAAAAAAAAAAAA THEY’RE LESBIANS HAROLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAROLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay. okay. this still isnt QUITE THE DATE CHAPTER BUT WE’RE RLY IN IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so scared that a whole chap has been saved for this meal because its going to be so long and charged w/ lesbian energy and its gonna kill me BUT OH WELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway i loved it. the end.

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog

[kosmicdream]

Hi I’m Kosmic. I draw webcomics and my webcomics are really long sprawling huge cast ones that will go on for years and they’re non linear and all this stuff that makes ppls heads spin when they try to explain wtf they’re about. I ask myself this question a lot: How the fuck do I maintain this motivation for continuing projects that are honestly, probably bigger than i can possibly feasibly create??? How do i avoid swallowed up by anxiety of my own creations???? is that energy going to run out at any time? should i be worried?? Well! For some reason I... don’t? like i get winded sometimes but in the end, I actually quite like what i do and I don’t care that it takes literally years to make my stories. but when I step back and look at it objectively it does make me scratch my head and wonder how i came to be in this situation. So, sometimes i  try and write a few things that help me with understanding my own process, for whatever reason. Or at least I’ll TRY to articulate some of the things i seem to tell myself again and again that help me feel very comfortable with my writing/creating process. So if you want an insight into tips that i give myself.. this is that! 

TIP #1 - Everything you Plan will take longer than you planned, but you can make it easier by unexpectedly including information you might have otherwise withheld.

Secrets are cool in your stories. I have so many of them, but I also understand that they’re much more fun to share than to always keep locked up and out of knowledge. I often overshare to the point where ‘info dumping’ happens which is often considered an unattractive quality in comics. But IDM it so much because my comics just need to be drawn and you can’t glorify and hold every flaw over your shoulders when in the end its not going to be that big of a deal. I think its better to give out more information than finding reasons to bend around a story to avoid revealing things. I feel it might even be more obvious if you attempt to do that.

Also, I feel that everything planned in a story can happen quite quickly, and feel much shorter than actually drawing it. Even with the experience ive gained, i still am surprised just by how much i must throw out to make my long scenes shorter and snappier. even then, they are still really long scenes. I don’t mind doing this, I like to make my stories this way- but ive also designed my comic to serve this pace by making my pages less intensive physically to make. I’m not going to go in depth about this as ive already discussed this many times before, but I do think its important to understand that generally, a commitment to a comic is going to be bigger and longer than it appears in your mind or even on paper as a script or thumbnails.

(my comic eggshells, for example, was originally going to be 340ish pages long. but back then, my pacing was much different-- and my pages were generally twice as wide with around 15 panels per page..sometimes more. but i would over-render and make them hard to read, and now i draw very few panels per page and my comics are much ‘longer’ in page count.)

TIP #2

-Accept that your ideas are bigger than what you can draw and enjoy the private context and history of your work without feeling like its less accomplished for not being all out there. Validate yourself but also understand that your readers are not going to understand the depth from your perspective and they will be engaging with the view they’ve been exposed to.

This is kind of a complicated one but I think that its both humbling to accept your work as this multi layered experiences of contradicting perspectives.. theres the planning and your engagement with the goals, the work of translating your creation to others and the vulnerable exposure of these ideas to the audience. As the creator, you get to see things in a very unique way that no one else can but... the one feeling you will never get to see is the audience who has no idea what will happen next. You can anticipate it, but in the end its so vast and unpredictable that it will be impossible to judge what they ALL will FEEL and sometimes? their perceptions can alter your own enjoyment of your work. I guarantee it will change it in SOME way.. that’s part of the sacrifice.

TIP #3

-Allowing change, flexibility and growth into your series- and letting go of control over all facets of it.

As time goes on things just change. Its hard to accommodate or prepare for that kind of investment in your work when you feel like you havent even gotten through the starting gates of your story. Comics are particularly difficult for that because once you draw a thing, it takes time to edit and you cant really undo and go back. Each panel informs and builds on the next. You have to use what’s there and figure out how it can be a structure for the future.

Accepting the past that has helped create the situation and platform of your comic in the present, which will lead into the future. Personally, i’m not a fan of retconing* certain decisions that have been already made into the canon-- however, i think if a new conclusion or idea is discovered in the process of writing and it works to include because it creates a new and alive energy in the work that will help push it to the next stage.. i think that’s very helpful and useful for sustaining the growth and motivation in a story. Making choices like this can be tricky, however, but even small ones can give a lot of natural growth and flexibility in the comic. The problem can often come with letting go of that unseen, unrealized version we had intended. I know for myself, i can get very nostalgically attached to old ideas but-- if i think of something better that works or makes more sense, I’m always thankful to let go and let my stories grow into a better thing. I try to remember where it came from, however. Because that helps inform me where to go.

(*generally my definition for this is altering events of the past, certain core plans of the comic, character motivations, or facts that are connected to the worldbuilding. im kind of a hoarder so once its in the story aka on a specific page-- its not going anywhere. until then things can be up in the air. for example, the characters knife and spoon were not originally intended to be mutually in love and it was more of a one sided idol worship, but as i fleshed their characters out i realized that it was mutual and it changed and altered the story because of that. now it cannot/will not be “undone” for whatever reason bc this is.. an established fact in the story. but at one point, it was not! i hope that makes sense.)

SO TO SUMMARIZE... plans will always be “”bigger”” in the ever expansive space of your mind so also dont be afraid to get to the point sometimes even if it feels a little, like. less exciting than you thought? accept your story is going to be different for YOU vrs your audience and make peace with that disconnect even tho its disorienting + upsetting sometimes & accommodate the ~natural personal and artistic growth~ you will experience and let go of things that might be holding you or your work back from improving with you. but also dont try to cut out too much of the past because.. it is what helped you get to where you are right now? focus on the present & allow growth for the future, dont try to alter the past and pretend it didnt happen. bc that will be confusing as fuck for everyone involved and also probably hurt the story more than help it. esp if its a long one. ur building a tower dont pull out too many foundational blocks and try to make it too much of something else unless its growing there on its own.. u kno? 

When I try to write these tips these are just things I find myself doing in a cycle as i create that seem to keep re igniting my passion for my story again and again. It makes me curious because it also is a very instinctual thing so I thought I might try and write it out!!!!!!!!!! ENJOY.

ALSO some bonus thoughts!!!!!!!!!! I will say that I’ve never completed a long format comic series, so take it w/ a grain of salt imo. HOWEVER...I probably will, eventually. Even if I don’t, I do enjoy writing really big ones and I feel very happy with the work i do on them! and still feel no inclination to move onto other things. Or even when I work on other things, I don’t have a feeling of dropping a story entirely. (for example, i still intend to work on my older series eggshells and don’t really feel a desire to ‘quit’ that story even when i have matured as an author/artist since starting it.)

When I read really long comic series I wonder a lot of internal decisions that happen out of sight, since the timeline of a comic that you read is so much different than the timeline it takes actually creating the thing. its so easy to write/plan/form ideas for lifetimes of work that will never be realized, so what is it that we actually get in the pages? What aspects of this author are we actually seeing? how much have they grown since beginning and what about the story we will never know? I know I’ll never know, because, I am only the reader! And as the creator, I will never know what the feeling of my work as the reader. or the cool and interesting things they predict will happen based on their perseptions, which are so different from mine. Yet!! we are all engaged in the same story unfolding, never fully discovering what its like on the other side but only getting little glimpses and thats fascinating how a story is almost this vast illusion of experiences maintained by so many different minds. 

Long format comics captivate me because they are just, really time consuming to make and the pacing of them are so different and less consumable than other stories. They like become.. this place you live in! Why are they my favorite to enjoy even when its natural that, when a story becomes longer, its going to end up attracting more & more issues? Why do i Not care about resolutions to long stories sometimes bc my expectations for them are different?? (also lets face it, experience writing long stories is going to be different than writing short ones because it takes time to write longer things & we are not going to have as much experienc having more than one completed super long multi-act-multi-characterplot story vrs a bunch of smaller ones. it doesnt mean its EASIER to write shorter ones, if anything id argue its probably much harder to write good short things + isolate a story down to that focused vision than making tons of long ones that avoid endings) but..yet!! here i am...

why am i constantly drawn to trying to understand long format stories when I probably could improve faster by writing shorter things??! i dont really know! but i follow my heart and my heart likes to do things this way......

anyway, this entire post is mostly inspired by the fact that many of my favorite stories started before i was even born or have been going on for decades and i wonder if we’ll ever read the endings to many of them.... would it.. matter? they’ve already inspired me so much even without a resolution because i can imagine my own endings to things.. but in the end that is not what happened in the actual story. it was only in my mind.. and yet it never happened, and was an illusion unknown to anyone but myself.....and sometimes my favorite stories are my favorites because of the things i imagined them to be, rather than what they actually were or how they actually turned out.. i dont know how this happens..... but i wonder about what this means with my OWN comics, and how my perceptions of what they could be vrs what they are is like, this weird illusion that also exists only in my mind and no one else can see it. yet we are both looking at the same thing. and i want to know what others see and i never will get to??? ....stories are......... so fucking spooky!!!!!!!!!! AHHH!! ok thats all. thx for reading

#personal #comic writing #ffak faq