#here’s to hoping the further storytelling/writing will remain on the same level

[thormanick]

I think it could be very, very funny if “great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends” turned out to be a foreshadowing for how Alastor’s overall character arc will end in the future

Idk I think it would be veeeeeeery fun to throw in such type of foreshadowing at the end of the first season only for it to come true several seasons later. Like, who would suspect?

#this is a very hear me out moment #I think the last time I enjoyed a manipulative character so much was during the times of Loki’s first appearance in mcu lol #man alastor is SUCH a fun character like you can do so much with him. the potential is limitless #that’s exhactly why throwing in possible foreshadowing immediately at the end of s1 could be conceptually fun #bc it’s always fun (to me) when the character goes ‘my that will surely never happen!’ only for the Exact Thing To Happen #anyways #gotta say I enjoyed watching hazbin hotel MUCH more than I anticipated #I really REALLY had no expectations. and then suddenly the storytelling AND THE SONGS turned out so well??? delightful #here’s to hoping the further storytelling/writing will remain on the same level #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin hotel reaction #hazbin hotel alastor

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Your fics have inspired me to write some of my own! So I was wondering if you have any tips for aspiring writers? Asking anonymously, because I'm terrified my writing is terrible and I'm shy

Hello love!

Oh, well done for wanting to make a start, I’m proud of you! Also, I’m super flattered that I could serve as inspiration for that 😊

The best advice I could give would be the following notes -

1. Remember your grammar and punctuation and try to use correctly to the best of your ability. It’s very difficult to read a story where, no matter how much storytelling ability I see within an author, the spelling and grammar are sloppy. Most people don’t expect perfection and goodness knows I still make silly mistakes even after writing for 20 years, but doing this shows a level of care for your work. Use tools such as Grammarly, or just write using Microsoft Word as it’s built in and will correct for you as you write.

2. Have a clear start and end point for your story. Without such, you will struggle. Make notes about your idea prior to beginning it, set the tone of the world you will be creating. If you’re penning an OC, this is where you begin in creating them, too! Who are they? What are their likes and dislikes, and how do such things play into the story and eventual narrative you will be creating? Notes are an imperative part of building those first foundations.

3. When you begin to write, make sure you make clear breaks for character dialogue, use properly structured paragraphs, try not to run too long on sentences (I need to take my own advice here as I do this ALL the bloody time 😂 me and my emotional support commas!) or the reader will become frustrated at wondering who is speaking and when, and huge blocks of text are also much harder to read.

4. Don’t be afraid to reach out to someone and ask them to beta read for you. Just make sure that if you are opening yourself up to constructive criticism, you’re open to listening to their critique. They’re there to help you.

5. When you begin writing your characters, make sure to make them human. A trap I have seen a lot of people fall into with characterisation is making their lead faultless. Don’t do this! Show their flaws, it will make for a much more interesting read. It’s the same for if you are writing pre-existing characters not of your creation in fanfiction. Yes, essentially you are writing your own version of them, but try to remain loyal to the character they are, flaws and all.

6. Have fun with it! Befriend authors, ask for advice, find yourself a little community to be a part of. Be warned, some fandoms can be very hostile towards new people coming in, some people are very much part of a clique and they will not accept you (I’ve found that in some fandoms, and there’s people I try and engage with in the current ones that I write for who will engage with mutuals but not me) but that, my darling, is on them, not you!

7. Be prepared to put in a lot of effort to succeed. It takes time and practice, lots of self-promotion as well. If you want it enough, though, you’ll achieve. Ask, believe and receive. Believing in yourself is paramount. Again, I need to take my own advice here as I do struggle and have moments where I think I suck, but if you have faith, are willing to listen and always allow yourself the grace to improve while having faith that you can and will become better, you’re on the right path.

If you ever want any further advice, please reach out to me, babe. Or DM me if you feel brave enough to contact me without using the anon feature. I hope you do as I would love to read something you write someday! Wishing you the very best of luck here at the beginning of your literary journey 💕💕

[nileqt87]

Thoughts on WandaVision by a non-Marvel fan

As someone who had only seen a single Marvel movie (The Avengers) and only watched Jessica Jones season 1 for David Tennant (while hating nearly every other character in it), which had none of these characters, I only watched WandaVision precisely because it dared to break the mold and be even remotely ambitious instead of doing the same old CGI cartoon fest over and over. And somewhat because of what Marvel has done to the film industry, television has completely and utterly overtaken film as where emotional, dramatic storytelling now happens.

And okay, I happen to have had a major TVLand addiction growing up and binged a ton of the shows referenced in WandaVision long ago (yep, those very same '50s-'80s sitcoms). I couldn't pass up the retro. Love at first sight. Combine that with what promised to be a tragic, human/non-human romance. Sold. I knew little else about the characters.

For a long time, I've seen female fans (in particular) comment on how part of the reason they write fanfiction for Marvel is that they have to read between the lines just to add the implied dramatic content of the relationship focus variety that never quite gets developed in canon (certainly not up to the standard of what a fic reader expects). I saw a few comments that pretty much described WandaVision as exactly that: a fix-it fanfic before tragic reality invaded Pleasantville. Wanda's whole Hex was essentially a glorified fix-it fanfic.

For this reason alone, I can only hope the success of WandaVision gets them to create a season 2 that is dedicated solely to Wanda trying to put her family (Vision) back together that does the tragic romance justice in a way that giving them side parts in other people's movies just isn't going to cut it.

I feel like Vision's ultimate resurrection or even Wanda's struggle with her grief is better left to her own headline story, whether be it film or television. Television is the only medium that is going to allow the actors to really sink their teeth into this sort of star-crossed, tragic drama and not have it relegated to a minor side-character plot. Either give Wanda and Vision their own movie (hopefully, with heightened focus on character development as a lesson learned from television) or wait to integrate the mind and body of Vision in another season that gives both of them center stage with room to develop it.

Them having their twins for real might also be worth a season 2 in a way that probably wouldn't even work on film, as showing such a feminine pregnancy storyline would be a helluva departure for a Marvel movie that goes from action set piece to action set piece.

I wouldn't even hate it if Wanda's sitcom comfort zone made a few more appearances, even if it is merely the occasional domestic fantasy or dream/nightmare, so there is a way to not completely divorce a potential season 2 from season 1's "gimmick". It could be merely as simple as her pointedly doing something Sam/Jeannie-esque with her magic. Cooking with floating kitchen items would be an easy nod.

Probably not what Marvel is thinking of doing, but as a non-Marvel fan, WandaVision has a real opportunity to pull in new viewers with very different tastes that have so far managed to give the films a wide berth. It would do so much better as a show.

Go the route of giving these characters their own headlined projects and Marvel could have a real juggernaut of a 'ship, as well. My impression was that WandaVision got a lot of fans talking about the characters and their relationship in a way that the previous films and comics had not; some even making comments they had barely paid attention to the characters before the show.

IMO, the mere character descriptions sound like some of the most interesting and fleshed-out characters Marvel has got right now with real opportunity for real dramatic depth. And that's putting aside that Scarlet Witch is one of the most powerful characters on the entire Marvel roster. Making a whole television season about a character going through the stages of grief and about a woman who just wants the family she lost back (a woman who desperately wants a husband and children, no less) was very different territory for Marvel. Human/non-human, in addition to having the level of doom that makes tragedies very, very memorable.

There's tropey drama potential there that hasn't been mined with the non-human who becomes more and more "human" (it's the stuff of fairy tales and sci-fi both). Hayward or someone like him could easily be used as a character who doesn't see Vision as equal to humans, for example. Delve into the sort of existential questions about artificial life achieving consciousness no less feeling than a human's that stories like Data on Star Trek, Blade Runner and Bicentennial Man pose. That species difference without the magic of sitcoms could be mined for a gorgeously dramatic plotline. What it means to be human explored through the non-human--one of my favorite tropes.

And of course, it's the stuff of fairy tales--most notably Pinocchio (the once-inanimate learning to and desiring to become real by proving himself worthy and because it fulfills the greatest wish of the person who loves them most), combined with the interspecies romance elements of The Little Mermaid (tragic ending or not--see also the desperate acts taken to achieve this cosmically-denied togetherness, only for such a tragic ending to come of it in the original work).

Given that the MCU movies just lost a bunch of their A-listers, they need something big like this. Marvel needs philosophical and character-driven meat on its meager dramatic bones. Here are two actors who could carry something more ambitious and pick up an entirely different audience. Marvel could get an even bigger female audience with these two, IMO. And it wouldn't be cheap girl power pandering either (I say this as a girl). These characters are legit with incredibly warm, likable, endearing performances behind them. This chemistry works 100%.

I think White Vision having an existential crisis where he's questioning what he is if he has all the memories of a being who clearly can feel every human emotion (the idea that we are our memories), but at the same time knowing that he's only artificial life, would be an interesting lead-up to Vision being fully restored with his full consciousness in addition to the added memories of what he experienced inside the Hex.

A restored Vision would have to reconcile what Wanda did in her grief over him and her family. It's also a glimpse at the life Wanda wants with him, which included something that isn't biologically possible, though it likely is through her own abilities of creation. There's also the idea of balance that he's the one who might hold her back from the brink of going down any further dark paths as a figure of ordered stability for her, while she is key in the chaos of his becoming more "human". The to-be parenthood story is obviously hanging over them.

The situation with Hayward intending for White Vision to remain a mere machine that can be manipulated and used as a weapon in a way that an independently-thinking Vision can't be is also a path to go down. As I said, there's a potential storyline about prejudice regarding artificial intelligence, even if it has all the emotional capability of humans.

And on top of that, Vision is in a relationship with a human, even if it's one who could potentially be the key to restoring his consciousness through her own link with the original Mind Stone. It also furthers Wanda's role as a mother and creator if she can give him back his life in this way. While the heroic Avengers might not question them being "an unusual couple", who says everyone else would be so kind?

I really think he needs to be brought back. Wanda desperately needs him for her story to continue.

#wandavision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #vision #scarlet vision #wanda x vision #elizabeth olsen #paul bettany #marvel

[gstqaobc]

FROM THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF CANADA

As this Ecomm went to publication, we received word of the death, at the great age of 96, of Bill Silver, a significant benefactor of the League from its early days, and for many years a pillar of our Ottawa Branch.  We wished to remember him here: his ebullient spirit, fierce loyalty spoken gently, innate modesty and kindness.  Indeed Chaucer might have had forethought of Bill in describing one of his characters as a “very parfitt gentle knight.” May his ardent spirit rest in peace, and his memory be a blessing and example to us all.   LEAGUE ISSUES NEW FLYER: THE CASE FOR THE CROWN The League thought it timely and useful to issue, offer in its advertising and distribute as widely as possible - both via the website and in printed form - a new flyer which will give you, our members, ammunition to argue logically the case for the Crown in conversation with others, and, we hope, to distribute strategically. One never knows when such an item, left on a waiting room table at the doctor or dentist’s office, affixed to a supermarket or other community bulletin board, put through neighbours’ mail slots - the possibilities are many - will do good work for our cause. We hope you will both enjoy and profit from this item, and that many thousands will be distributed across the country. See item one in the WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? section of this Ecomm, below, to read online and request printed copies.   And special thanks to our wonderful team of no less than seven translators, all francophones from La Belle Province, who so kindly volunteered to make the French version one that is accurate in expression and eloquent in its prose.                     WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? Some suggestions for member activity during these times. We invite members to send additional ideas by return of email. 1.    How about asking the League to send you several print copies of our new flyer:  THE CASE FOR THE CROWN, or print them on your home computer:  https://www.monarchist.ca/index.php/publications and give them to others who may be unaware or sceptical of the importance of Canada’s constitutional monarchy, or even hostile to it. School teachers could be encouraged to read the League’s educational booklets, also available both online and in print at the same URL, or even to request a class set.   2.    When you read an editorial, opinion column or letter to the editor in a newspaper, or a tweet or Facebook post, critical of the Crown, don’t get mad - get even! In other words, use a temperate tone and logical argument to refute the writer’s attack.  Keep it brief: focus on the obvious flaws in reasoning, mis-statements of fact or name-calling substituting for logic.  Same goes for radio talk shows. In the long run, on all media, whatever the provocation, whatever the momentary satisfaction of ”giving them a piece of my mind” - an old adage remains true: “You catch more flies with honey.” 3.    Write your elected representative at the federal level to re-state briefly the reasons you support constitutional monarchy as our system of government,  and asking the MP whether not your view is shared. 4.    Once pandemic restrictions ease, try to make sure that Royal events - such as the upcoming 95th birthday of our Queen, 10th Wedding Anniversary of William and Catherine or 100th birthday of Prince Philip are celebrated both in your home but also among your wider family, your friends, your colleagues at the office,  your place of worship/faith community or service club. The League generally sends you some ideas to mark these celebrations. Remember, as they are incorporated into family life and public life, the     Crown becomes further embedded in the heart of the nation, and truly represents The Queen’s wish that it ”reflects all that is best and most admired in the Canadian ideal.” This is especially true when you go out of your way to include in your observance the newest members of our Canadian family, who generally are eager to participate in the traditions of their new homeland, and in turn to share their own traditions with the wider community. 5.    Always use a Queen stamp when you write a letter or pay a bill by mail. 6.     At events of ceremony, whether a Council meeting, a graduation, a civic celebration - whatever - make sure that the Royal Anthem is sung as well as the National Anthem. To the extent you can, discourage event organizers from having a soloist “perform” them. Far more pride and         learning develop from the untrained voices of loyal folk singing together. In that way, the Anthems are sung “with heart and voice” and not merely listened to.   A FINAL IDEA: AN ACT OF LOVING SUPPORT & THANKS Apart from the above, we think it would be enormously comforting and supportive for every one of us to  write a kind letter to The Queen, expressing your thoughts at a difficult time: her beloved husband ailing, a grand-child chiding other family members via sensational television, the drumbeat of the tabloids and the restrictions on her busy life caused by the pandemic.  A selection of letters, especially those from Commonwealth Realms, are indeed seen by The Queen - and their number and tone are summarized to Her Majesty. The address is - Her Majesty The Queen, Buckingham Palace, London SW1A 1AA, UK Theoretically you don’t need postage to write the Sovereign; in practice, it is safer to affix the international airmail stamp available from your local Canada Post outlet.   AN INTERESTING OPINION PIECE FROM TODAY’S DAILY TELEGRAPHWe thought you might be interested to see the following strongly-worded opinion piece, reflecting a good deal of the tone of recent British public opinion, rather different from much of the Canadian and US commentary. Meghan’s fake interview has real-world effects The Sussexes’ claims have undermined the monarchy and done lasting damage to the Commonwealth by Tim Stanley, March 15, 2021 Two headlines appeared on the BBC News website on the same day. At the top: “Harry and Meghan rattle monarchy’s gilded cage”. At the bottom: “The kidnapped woman who defied Boko Haram”. Well, that puts the Sussexes' problems in perspective, doesn’t it? Yet across Africa, one reads, the Duchess’s story has revived memories of colonial racism, tarnishing the UK’s reputation, and has even lent weight to the campaign in some countries to drop the Queen as head of state. The only nation that seems to think a lot of nonsense was spoken is Britain. In the wake of an interview that Joe Biden’s administration called courageous, British popular opinion of Harry and Meghan fell to an all-time low, and the American format had a lot to do with it. Oprah Winfrey is not our idea of an interviewer. She flattered, fawned and displayed utter credulity. Imagine if it had been her, not Emily Maitlis, who interviewed Prince Andrew over the Jeffrey Epstein allegations. “You were in a Pizza Express that day? Oh my God, you MUST be innocent! Tell me, in all honesty, though...did you have the dough balls?” This wasn’t an interview, it was a commercial for a brand called Sussex, a pair of eco-friendly aristo-dolls that, if you pull the string, tell their truth – which isn’t the truth, because no one can entirely know that, but truth as they perceive it. “Life is about storytelling,” explained Meghan, “about the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we’re told, what we buy into.” Meghan is a postmodernist. Just as Jean Baudrillard said the Gulf War never happened, but was choreographed by the US media, so the Royal narrative she was forced to live was fake, her public happiness was fake and, following that logic, this interview might involve an element of performance, too. People have challenged her claims, alleging contradictions and improbabilities, but one of the malign effects of wokeness is that you have got to be very careful about pointing this out. Why? Because wokery insists on treating a subjective view as objective truth, or even as superior, because it’s based upon “lived experience”. To contradict that personal perspective is perceived as cruel, elitist and, in Meghan’s case, potentially racist, so it’s best to wait a few weeks to a year before applying a fact check. In the meantime, affect sympathy. People would rather you lied to their face than tell them what they don’t want to hear. The result is profoundly dishonest, for I have never known an event over which there is such a gulf between the official reception, as endorsed by the media and politics, and the reaction of average citizens, who are wisely keeping it to themselves. Into that vacuum of silence steps not the voice of reason but bullies and showmen – like Piers Morgan, who said some brash stuff about Meghan’s honesty and, after an unseemly row on Good Morning Britain, felt obliged to resign from his job.  “If you’d like to show your support for me,” he wrote afterwards, “please order a copy of my book.” Dear Lord, was this row fake, too? I can no longer be sure, though I despised Good Morning Britain before and still do: it embodies the cynical confusion of emotion and fact, a show made for clicks, where even the weatherman has an opinion. So what is real in 2021? The Commonwealth, which does a lot of good in a divided world. The monarchy, which has been at its best during the pandemic, doing the boring stuff of cutting ribbons and thanking workers that, one suspects, Meghan never grew into (can you imagine her opening a supermarket in Beccles?). It contains flawed people, but that only adds to its realness, and they can adapt faster than you might think. Prince William got the ball rolling by telling reporters, who he is trained to ignore, that his family is not racist. His wife paid her respects to the murder victim Sarah Everard, demonstrating that she is neither cold nor silenced. I’d wager Kate does her duty, day after day, no complaint, not because she is “trapped”, as Harry uncharitably put it, but because she loves her family and believes in public service. Meghan and Harry have indeed prompted the Royal family to change: not in order to endorse their criticisms, however, but to answer them.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[handmaidensofnaboo]

“Ultimately, it is very apparent this novel was noticeably, lovingly, and carefully crafted by a Prequel fan, a Padmé fan, a Handmaiden fan... Queen's Shadow is a fitting tribute.”

❦

Queen's Shadow had a somewhat impossible task for me as a handmaiden “super fan,” a potentially “tough critic,” so I commend E.K. Johnston for willingly providing me with an early copy to share my thoughts on it with you all... I was nervous about how Queen's Shadow would turn out to be honest, but EKJ was up to the task...

I'll preface this review by saying Handmaidens were my first real community engagement in fandom. My older sister and I joined the Royal Handmaiden Society on TheForce.Net boards back around 2001 when I was about 14. The RHS was the reason I went to my first convention (Celebration II) and although the group isn't as present online as it once was (please follow @royalhandmaidensociety​), I made life long friends and it forever shaped and changed me. It was an overwhelmingly positive fandom experience at a very impressionable age and for that I'm forever thankful...  So for those of us who have such deep roots to this, who have, for the past 20 years, analyzed the handmaidens’ every micro expression, every costume, and have carved out our own understanding of them (from what little information that would could find), this book might be a bit "complicated " to process.

 At least it was for me.

With the announcement of Queen's Shadow, I was of course initially ecstatic, validated even, that they/we were being seen and heard, finally!! Yet mixed feelings slowly sunk in too. Despite us RHSers long lamenting the lack of content—handmaidens unjustly being overlooked in both Star Wars official media and for a long time in mainstream fandom—it also became this amazing small community space for each of us to freely imagine and play in. It’s been a kind of safe haven I've come to greatly appreciate. With a book featuring them... That could all potentially change. This fandom could change. I found myself wondering a few weeks ago, "Will I even like these girls? Will I love these new versions of Eiraté, Rabé, Sabé...” Something I've previously never had to consider. My fictional friends were about to be exposed on a larger than ever level, and reshaped, officially, forever. I was worried.



I knew I had to go into this book open minded, no way could EKJ take each one of our different headcanons and fantasies and appease us all in one ultimate text—but to my surprise, there were certainly select striking scenes, moments, I had while reading, where (for me) she did accomplish just that.  

After both the prologue and the first chapter in particular (which were centered around my favorite Handmaidens, from TPM), I had to put the book down for a while because I was so overwhelmed in the best kind of way. It truly was so close to capturing what I have wanted all these years that I just wanted to bask in it. Maybe that sounds silly but even simply one chapter filled with handmaidens, is an overwhelming amount of content for us to receive, let alone an ENTIRE book. This little fandom is just so used to excavating for scraps. I reread the beginning of the book again the next day, out of pure enjoyment, before I continued on.



The unbelievable news, the great news... Something I can't believe even is real... Is that Queen's Shadow starts with handmaidens and ends with handmaidens, and there are handmaidens in… NEARLY? Every. Single. Chapter. I really never thought I'd never see the day. I’m stunned. Yes, they are different then I imagine them, but I'm happy to see them, I still like them, just the same. And Padmé, who has also been sorely ignored, unappreciated, and underutilized within general Star Wars media/merchandise, is also finally getting the spotlight she deeply deserves.

❦

Queen's Shadow is woven like an intricate tapestry threading together Padmé's stories throughout the entire prequel trilogy (especially the first two films), and highlights some of my favorite stylistic and thematic choices within them. Similar to the prequels (especially TPM) it reminded me of a period drama, with it's more formal dialogue, richly detailed costumes, ceremonies and politics, and admittedly a more contemplative pace than the swashbuckling fairy tales of the OT (but still engaging in it's own way). Also like the prequels, you get that occasional ominous foreboding, that sense of pieces being moved behind the curtains by shadowy figures, of unclear motivations by supposed "allies," of tragic destinies being spun—but still find yourself swept away by moments of hope and idealism, despite it all.  There is a particularly heartbreaking yet beautiful finale moment of this book with her that was so fitting to George Lucas' vision of Star Wars, it was, as he once said, "like poetry—it rhymes." Anytime something can capture that Lucas approach to storytelling, I am thankful to be reminded of why I loved Star Wars in the first place. (Especially in the Disney era years when I've felt a bit "post break up" about the franchise, to be honest.)

Queen's Shadow is foremost about Padmé's work, shifting and hardening herself into her new role as senator. It does justice to the themes and qualities that originally enchanted and inspired me about her: fulfilling her duty to her people, her compassion for vulnerable communities, and fighting for what's right—through language, through political and inner power, strategy, and unexpected partnerships. And as always, Padmé is luminous. 

There is one cause in particular she is advocating for that is notably poignant in its connections to TPM. I was incredibly pleased it was there, relieved even. It was so important and needed for her character. It enriches the choices she makes in the later films. And it is just one of a number of political themes in the book that are timeless and ever relevant, but wasn't inserted into the story in a heavy-handed way. I love that the main audience for this book (young girls), will get these meaty concepts presented to them through our beloved political heroine and the diversely talented women supporting her.  While we do see the various skills and character moments of Padmé and her handmaidens, I admit (and this is just my first read impressions) they all still did feel somewhat at a distance for me. I personally would've liked to have dug deeper into their personalities. I'm not sure how to properly articulate it, but I just felt a bit left "wanting more"—for more walls to come down, to have gotten further into their inner thoughts... But I think it's partly the challenge of the large number of characters, the book’s YA length, and a personal preference of writing style. Which, in EKJ’s defense, does compliment these particular characters, who have long had these kind of untouchable, unknowable presences, these masks over them (and she does address that). I think as I reread it, my feelings on may improve as I retain all the subtleties better. But if they remain elusive, that gives us room to fill it out with our own head canons, which is something many of us all ~clearly~ enjoy! It is part of their appeal, part of why we first loved them after all. 
It's also important to note the impressive attention to various Star Wars lore that is entwined throughout Queen's Shadow, from remnant gems of "Legends" handmaiden lore (and even RHS in jokes), to architectural details found in Battlefront II, to various appearances by Clone Wars characters... And many more I’m sure I’ve missed. Yet thankfully I can't recall any of it is done in a way that comes off as showy, elitist, or hard to follow (if for example, you're like me and admittedly haven't watched hardly any of the Clone Wars).  Additionally, here and there, there were some scenes or lines that didn't quite hit the mark for me personally, one minor set of changes from "Legends" handmaiden ages irked me a bit (we had so little to cling to ok! lol), frustration at already established lore (such as Panaka and Clovis, which EKJ can’t help), and other things that were simply just creative choices of the author (which of course happens for me with almost every Star Wars spin-off). 



Regarding the last point, that was the only other occurrence where I put the book willingly down, this time because I needed to get some space—to process something I decidedly didn't like. It was about midway through the book regarding a particular minor storyline. I don't want to spoil, but I will say it involved a new character that, for me, was taking up too much room in a book that already had plenty of amazing characters I wanted to spend more time with. I just felt he wasn’t exactly needed, or that others easily could've substituted his place and it would've been more meaningful to the lore.  These critiques are relatively minor however, and most of them are easy to move beyond, especially when I consider the bigger picture, and the majority of scenes, quotable lines, and pivotal interactions in Queen's Shadow that do seamlessly work. Those more than make up for the handful of things I struggled with.

 Ultimately, it is very apparent this novel was noticeably, lovingly, and carefully crafted by a Prequel fan, a Padmé fan, a Handmaiden fan. For this I'm deeply thankful, because it's easy to imagine if it wasn't—How poorly or sloppily Padmé could've been mischaracterized or the possible omission and/or confusion regarding the handmaidens… The latter of which BOTH the revered Dave Filoni and Timothy Zahn are woefully guilty of, (full offense). It hits me sometimes how so much damage could've been done were this in less capable, less attentive hands, with an author that would've cared less. EKJ clearly cared a lot. Minor issues aside, that's really what mattered most to me, at the root of it. So I'm very glad.



The more open minded you go in, the more you will enjoy Queen's Shadow, and (I say this for myself, as much as for anyone else who can relate) we can still make space for and enjoy our old head canons alongside to the new lore, or even mesh them together... I admittedly struggled a few times, but I definitely enjoyed reading it overall, particularly all the scenes on Naboo (and another planet that will go unnamed for now)... 

If you love Padmé, the handmaidens, Naboo culture, prequel politics—this book is a must read. The more time that passes, and as I reflect back, the more I feel that Queen's Shadow is a fitting tribute to Padmé and our handmaidens, let alone the prequel era itself. Queen's Shadow will be comfortably situated on my bookshelf beside our other established classics: Queen Amidala's Journal and Queen's Amulet, and I’m looking forward to revisiting it again when the audiobook comes out (holy heck we're finally gonna hear almost all the handmaiden names pronounced??! Have we been saying them "correct" all these years?? Stay tuned lmao...) I'll probably be posting my spoiler thoughts on Queen's Shadow after the book's release on March 5, 2019. Pre-orders are available online, though I really recommend purchasing it at your local independent book store if you can, and/or requesting your local libraries get a copy! Please share your own pictures/thoughts/reviews on here, twitter, instagram etc. and tag it. We gotta encourage Disney to give us more, because this book definitively ends with an invitation for a sequel or spin off of some sort, and I, a bit desperately, want it!!  The more we can support Queen's Shadow with the language Disney knows best ($$ and exposure) the better chance of future Padmé and handmaiden content, and they deserve it!! All of it—books, comics, Disney+ streaming miniseries, video games—Give them the legacy Rogue Squadron got. It's their time.



Again, thank you so much E.K. Johnston for creating this beautiful book, and going out of your way to provide me a copy. I'll always treasure that moment when I got that surprise package in the mail, a book nearly 20 years in the waiting. I was 12 years old again, that snowy day on my porch.



Can't wait to read everyone's thoughts. MTFBWY. ✨✨✨

Thank you for reading,

@handmaidensofnaboo​

❦

♕ Pre Order Queen's Shadow 

♕ Purchase Queen’s Shadow at your local independent bookstore

♕ Follow author E.K. Johnston: website | twitter | instagram | tumblr

♕ Follow cover artist Tara C. Philips: website | twitter | instagram | tumblr

#queen's shadow #ek johnston #padme amidala #handmaidens #naboo royal handmaidens #VERY minor?? barely any ~ spoilers~ #um ps the background silk in this is from the inside of my original battlemaiden gown my sis made for me for celebration ii <333 #this is long im sorry #guys idk why yall write i feel sick to my stomach posting this and i edited it so many times all week aslfjaskfj #idk how yall can do this for large audiences #lmaooo

[ginnyzero]

A Reason Why I’m Indie

Traditional publishing isn’t for everybody. And I’ve seen attitudes that if you don’t conform to word counts and genre conventions and all the rules, then you’re never going to get anywhere in publishing/as a traditionally published author. So, I guess you should suck it up and do it. Then, I’m proudly never going to get anywhere.

Before we go any further, I want to make a disclaimer. Agents do hard jobs. They became agents (most of them) because they love books and reading and want to see authors succeed. They don’t get PAID unless an author succeeds. They are as invested in an author’s book as much as the author is. Or, at least, the good ones are. (Yes, there are a few bad apples that you must be aware of.)

BUT

Agents can’t sell your book if there is no one in their contacts/on their list that will buy it for reasons.

And these reasons may not have anything to do with your writing quality, your world building, your storytelling or your creativity. These reasons have everything to do with the publishing world and the little arbitrary writing rules that they impose on well, everything. I’m squeezing my hands together so hard right now my knuckles are turning white because these rules make me angry.

It takes a lot to make me angry. I get frustrated sometimes fairly easily. But angry?

Well, bullshit makes me angry.

I have spent time going through the querying process. I have helped and watched my best friend, writing bff, collaborator and editor go through her querying process. And I have comforted and I have encouraged and I was there for her last night when she figured out that her book was being rejected not because of writing quality and or bad story or because she had unicorns.

Instead, it was being rejected because someone in the last four years decided that the themes of the types of stories she tells belong and only belong to a certain age group category younger than what she writes. And if she wants to write the type of stories she wants to write, the type of stories that she loves and she needed at the YA age level, she would have to change essentially everything about her story that she adores to get it traditionally published.

Or self-publish.

And as we know, self-publishing closes a lot of doors.

All because, she isn’t writing the “correct” theme for the “correct” age group.

And this pisses me off. (My friend is devastated because the book series she’s lovingly crafted and all her other ideas now won’t supposedly work for traditional publishing all without her knowing because someone instituted new rules. She's been in limbo for months over this.)

Because these things aren’t written down anywhere. And if they are, they’re in weird little articles that aren’t being taught in schools because probably the teachers themselves don’t know them. Or, they were things decided in the last half a decade and no one decided to you know, spread the word in such a way that authors querying would hear it.

Or maybe, just maybe, restricting themes to a genre or an age level is such extreme limiting and inappropriate bullshit it needs to be burned in a fire.

-Takes a deep breathe- See. Angry.

There are certain themes and certain plot structures/character constructions that defined or launched each genre. Romance being the most heavily structured in the traditional publishing world (and a lot of indies following the same rules/structure.)

Science Fiction (as we know it) was born out of the Cold War and the space race and the feeling of alienation and how is having world destroying weapons going to guide us as a species. It was a lot of “humans versus alien invaders” ID4 type of storytelling. Shelley’s Frankenstein started it. And there were different views of it in the beginning, Asimov delved into the perils of robotics and space flight. Herbert talked about ecological scifi. Heinlein tended to go political and then time traveling sexual hijinks. Star Trek was Horatio Hornblower IN SPACE.

Fantasy, especially high and epic fantasy, was born of the retelling of old legends, myths and religions and the triumph of the goodness of mankind in the hero's journey. Star Wars and stories like it (Andre Norton, Anne McCaffery’s Pern) merged the two into science fantasy (my favorite.) Urban fantasy became Sherlock Holmes solves/fights crime with vampires, werewolves and the rest of the fantasy kitchen sink.

Just some examples here.

Much of the science fiction I’ve seen on the shelves still follows the formulas of Asimov and Heinlein and Orson Scott Card. The lone soldier against the terrible aliens must fight to save humanity. (In some instances, these are still the top authors hogging all the shelf space, add Herbert and Bova and Brian Sanderson the successor of Robert Jordan and LE Modesitt. And…….. yeah.)

And it’s boring. It’s tiresome. It’s time for a change. Our culture is changing and the media on our shelves isn’t. Tumblr is full of posts about how Earth is Space Australia and aliens that are simultaneously fascinated and accepting of the oddities of humans because their culture isn’t like that! We adopt strange little vacuum robots as easily as we bond to small furry creatures that OMG OMG it could KILL US. (And some not so furry creatures.) We have different types of friends. We do stupid shit for the fun of it. It’s funny. It’s heartwarming. It’s different.

People don’t want angry patriarchal werewolves anymore. They want more than dwarves that just love mining and speak in bad Scottish accents. (Best one I saw was Australian accents actually.) Readers are tired of gratuitous rape. They’re tired of abusive and bad relationships being portrayed as good. Toxic masculinity is getting old as is misogyny. Princesses no longer want to be rescued by dragons, they want to be protected by dragons from being forced into marriages they don’t want. Why must readers go through a sewer when they open a book to escape?

No. Not a lot of these new ideas have conflict or plot. But that’s not really up to the idea thinkers on Tumblr, that’s up to us the writers to see what the idea makers are looking for and come up with plots to fit those settings (if we like those ideas/settings.)

I doubt you’ll find it on bookshelves.

Fantasy has fallen into the grim dark crap sack worlds looking for the next GRRM. Storytelling that hasn’t advanced past trying to emulate Tolkien. Authors that emulate Lackey and McCaffery in the style of romantic fantasy being passed over for grim dark fantasy with assassins and the hot “urban fantasy.”

And understandably, Urban Fantasy is pretty new. LKH and Jim Butcher and other writers like Kim Harrison, Seanan Mcguire and Patty Briggs have been instrumental in making urban fantasy a ‘big deal.’ And I’ve read a lot of urban fantasy and finally I had to give up. I couldn’t take it anymore. Because it was all the same thing in different trappings. And I’m down for the same thing in different trappings to an extent. I really am. I’d just hope that at some point we can have more than Urban Fantasy mysteries. But no one is selling them on traditional shelves because publishers decided that Urban Fantasy people SOLVE CRIME is what the genre is.

This kills innovation coming to publishing houses. We see it in movies as well as books, new ideas, good ideas, are being passed over for the rehash of something from 20 to 30 years ago. (Think closer to 60 for some scifi, more for fantasy.) Because publishers have "genre rules" and are risk adverse because 'what if it doesn't sell?'

There are writers out there that are willing to turn themselves into pretzels to make their story fit a certain word count, a certain genre theme or follow these arbitrary rules to “get their foot in the door” and then they are told and believe that “once they are established” they can “break/bend the rules.”

It’s a lie. It’s a tasty lie. It’s so good of a lie you want to believe it. You want to delude yourself that “if I pretend I’m a man, get my book under 80,000 words, follow the exact conventions of my genre, that one day I’ll get big enough to break all of the rules and innovate my genre.”

That’s when you’ve sold your soul to the devil. You’ve stripped yourself of all your self-respect in order to chase that dream of the “traditional publishing deal.”

Indie is pushing back at traditional in good ways and in bad ways. Traditional with either adapt or continue its pushing back and rigidly holding onto the genre structures it has to its own downfall. The readers will decide on what they want to see/read. That, as an indie author is no longer my problem and completely out of my control.

My problem remains with the fact that traditional publishing houses, and agents aren’t being open and honest about their expectations for these genres that they’re pushing onto shelves. Get together. Form a consensus. Get that information out to authors by putting it on agent websites/blogs. Don’t expect newbies to just know it.

We’ve had enough dream crushing. Being rejected is difficult enough. There are enough gates to go through and hoops to jump. Don’t make lack of information that “everybody knows” yet another one. It's about doing the right thing. Anyone can write a fiction book. Anyone. There is no degree necessary. So, do the right thing, the moral thing and be clear about expectations for what you represent and the "rules" of the genre on your website where querying authors can find it.

(There is going to be writer blaming going on here. Writers/Authors aren't at fault. They can't know this if they aren't told it. You can't just "know things" out of thin air. If there is an expectation, then state the expectation clearly and where it's easily found. As agents, as publishers, putting the information out there that will get you the material you want to read and can sell to publishing houses to make it to stores is on you, not the writer. /soapbox)

Now, if you’re a lucky sod and not like me and does write in the box and naturally writes inside the box. Then, you know what, I’m happy for you. Honestly, my life as an author would be so much easier if I could write “X the werewolf solves crime and saves the world.”

I can’t. It’s not in me.

My job as a writer is to put out the best story that I believe in as a person. A story that is true to me, my feelings, my life journey and what I want to see on shelves/would want to read. If that story has too many genres mixed up, doesn’t follow genre conventions, is too long, isn’t the right “theme” or focuses on the wrong thing for the wrong age group, then, fine, it’s probably never going to be traditionally published. I can deal with that.

I’ll self-publish. I’ll continue to self-publish. I’ll be indie despite the reputation that comes with being indie. I’ll do the work to get my books out there to the world and appreciate the few readers I have and support my indie friends even if it's just with a "you can do it. Hang in there. I'm rooting for all of you." Because, it's all I can do and can control.

I still reserve the right to be mad. Cause that's my friend.

[naruhearts]

OKAY SO I've just spent the best part of an hour scrolling through your blog and reading a bunch of your destiel meta and I HAD to message you... I was one of the many people who STRONGLY believed destiel had a chance of being canon after season 8 (more like season gr8 am i right), but throughout the years I slowly lost all hope. However, S14 has made me 110% invested in the show again and YOUR META IS GIVING ME HOPE FOR DESTIEL, which is TERRIFYING. Your writing is wonderful and I'm STRESSED.

Got back from Washington late last night!

Oh my gosh @alovelikecas, your message really made my day and I’m SO glad you enjoy my meta xox (even when most of my meta looks like, to me, sloppy-ass writing, haha! I’ll probably make an end-season meta post after 14x20 — if I have the time — that touches upon SPN’s current and repeating themes since Season New Beginnings S12/Dabb Era, not to mention I have, like, some more unfinished meta in my drafts >.>)

Yeah I mean, I didn’t join Destiel land until Summer 2016, and before that, I was late to the Season 11 party, so I basically had no narrative context for anything, and I’ll copy-paste what I said here: 

Looking back, one significant thing I recall? S11 gave me a sense of Destiel’s true narrative validity (as not a ‘fanon’ ship but organically developed in the canon) when I perceived it as a season that was ‘missing something’. Keep in mind I had no idea about Destiel yet while watching S11 at the time.

I was literally asking myself — repeatedly — why Dean/Amara seemed to contain odd narrative holes, considering A. Dean explicitly said that the non-consensual attraction he felt for Amara was NOT love and “it scares him”, B. Amara told Dean that ‘something stops you - keeps you from having it all’, C. Djinn!Amara stated that she can: ‘feel the love [Dean] feels, except it’s cloaked in shame,’ and D. Mildred’s iconic ‘You’re pining for someone’ —> which did not logically correlate with A and C, meaning: since Dean doesn’t freely love Amara and thus isn’t possibly pining for her — with female love interests as currently non-existent (I remember crossing off the dead/gone girls on a piece of paper lol) — who the hell was he pining for, then?

Originally posted by elizabethrobertajones

Obviously, without writing long-ass paragraphs of meta about it again in this post, S11 made sense as soon as I watched it within the Destiel context (especially after I read up on some grandiose pieces of Destiel meta (@charlie-minion was the very first person who inspired me to write meta; I followed her once I joined the fandom Oh my god, here we go, holy crap this subtext – I’m invested in this godforsaken ship because they’re in love with each other and I’m not getting off any time soon. The rest is history.

I’m aware that I do come off as positive (and I’m still Destiel-positive; whatever happens in 14x20 this week may or may not change that), but I hope you don’t mind if I use your lovely ask as an additional opportunity to clarify my meta standpoint: no one’s saying Destiel WILL become text. 

The general Destiel meta community (all subfactions: Destiel-positive, -negative, -neutral, and in-between) is not the Most Holy Canon Word, and we aren’t SPN writers, and again, we can’t actually speak to the veracity of Destiel as guaranteed-gonna-go-textual, but we — a diverse pool of critical thinkers from all walks of life: particularly those who have some degree of experience in literary academia/English literature studies (fun fact: I was actually pursuing a Minor’s in English until I changed my mind - my first love’s Health Science/Biology, which I stuck with, but here I am doing lit-crit analysis on the side *wink*) — can speak to the veracity of Destiel as a real, palpable, and ever-substantial long-running romance narrative aka the love story between Dean and Cas IS THERE. I see it. We all see it. We didn’t pluck it out of the random ether one day. It naturally evolved across the show’s overarching narrative like some vast spiderweb, linked together by numerous character arc amalgamations of Dean Winchester and Castiel as separate individuals who were then brought together — who brought themselves together, by the sheer force of free will and choice — and are now inherent parts of the other’s story (and respective character progression).

I say this too many times to count: the entire point of writing meta? Personally, it enables me to appreciate the literary gorgeousness of Dean and Cas’ relationship as, first and foremost, a tentative alliance offset by the very moment Cas raised Dean from perdition (it’s a poetic beginning). Their alliance then inevitably proliferated into a rocky — at times, necessarily turbulent — friendship, then a deep profound bond…one that crossed platonic boundaries since S7/8 and is, ultimately, indelibly rooted in romance. Together, Dean and Cas build up each other’s strengths, complement each other’s flaws, and narratively motivate the other to self-introspect — to become the best version of themselves that they were always meant to be: self-actualized entities who let go of their painful, horrifying, psychologically/emotionally destitute pasts.

These above reasons and more are why I think Destiel belongs right up there on the shelf of Ye Olde Classics, similar to epics by John Milton, Shakespearian tragic dramas, Homeric characteristic cruxes, and the great Odyssey journey: a legendary journey, fraught with circumstance, that finally ended with Odysseus (now an enlightened man) returning to Penelope, the love of his life.

Channeling the scope of Homer’s Odyssey, Destiel is an incredible storytelling feat of obstacles, both internal and external, romance tropes, mirroring, foreshadowing, and visual cadence/emotion, enhancing SPN’s already character-driven main plot in that Dean and Cas try to make it back to one another; like Penelope, their love holds true despite everything. If Destiel were an M/F couple, we all know their love story would be absolutely undeniable to the GA.

I do understand the bitterness S14’s fostered in some viewers, though. I do understand that Dean and Cas seem distant (and yeah, it’s a noticeable difference compared to S12/S13), but I believe the Destiel subtext is still heavy and holds steady.

Right now, at this point, there remains multiple personal issues for the characters to solve, you know? Dean and Cas aren’t talking properly; their love languages stay mistranslated, although we’re persistently shown that they still understand each other on a certain level that no one else can, and the visual narrative keeps framing them as on-the-nose solid counterparts: a domestic-spousal romantic unit independent of Sam.

Originally posted by incatastrophicmind

They want to be there for the other. They need to quash the final remnants of their respective internal loathing (Dean’s self-worthiness, Cas’ self-expendability) before they’re able to give the other 100% of their time, efforts, attention, and love (as flawed and complicated but compellingly beautiful as it can possibly be). During the times Dean and Cas do try to talk shit out, extraneous issues continue to get between them.

As other friends/meta pals discussed with me, S14 is like S10 in that it’s confusing the cast/audiences. And exactly: S8, besides S11/S12/early S13, also belongs in the close-to-canon serious Destiel narrative transition! I can discuss the showrunning/writer problem of SBL (Singer + Bucklemming; @occamshipper hits the nail on the head) that tugs subtext – especially subtext linked to Destiel – back and forth, sometimes in the weirdest nonsensical ways, but I won’t go too far into it here. I agree, however, with the recent idea that Jensen does seem a bit confused as to where he should bring Dean emotionally this season (don’t get me wrong, I do NOT believe Dean is OOC; OOC is a completely different concept vs expected character behaviour). And if Dean’s consistently romance-coded past interactions with Cas are any indication, Jensen would also — in the same vein as all of us — want Dean and Cas to start getting their shit together. Long-running fictional characters like Dean and Cas, conceived over 10 years, are so well-written to the point where you, the author, can predict what they’ll do even if you just plop both of them inside a room and give them no direction, and I personally feel that nowadays Jensen is prevented from achieving Dean’s further internal growth/unsure how to act in the moment because of some dumb SBL scripts saying one thing while his character’s heart says another. Wank aside—

Season 15 should hopefully convey a much more logical subtextual perspective e.g. unbelievably amazingly cohesive Season Destiel 11 that aired after choppy S10. Not all hope is lost!! I also want to clarify that I personally LOVED Season 14 in general. It’s been mostly Emotion-centric constant, with Yockey, Berens, Perez, and Dabb usually making my top-rank SPN writer list.

Currently the narrative’s still allowing pretty significant (imho) wiggle room for the lovers to fracture apart and get back together, where their miscommunication comes to a dramatic head. We just saw Dean and Cas argue over Jack’s well-being in 14x18 and 19. Dean — besides putting Cas at the top of his You’re-Dead-to-Me-Because-You-Lied-but-I-Still-Love-You-Goddammit hitlist (for clear spousal-coded reasons) and taking Cas’ actions to heart (he’s the person he trusted the most who lied to him) — no doubt blamed himself for what happened, and Sam was, like I said, the mouthpiece of truth. TFW were all culpable. They all failed Jack in some way, shape, or form.

I’m not expecting anything for 14x20, but I’m nervous either way! Thanks for sticking with my long answer

#ask #alovelikecas #destiel positive #my stuff #my meta #spn s14 speculation #spn s15 #season who am 14 #supernatural #destiel #narrative #character development #wank for ts #ish #spn s14 #spn s11 #deancas #the greatest love story ever told #14x18 #14x19

[twiststreet]

Peter Cannon Thunderbolt #1:

I felt like rambling around about some random comic book or another, since I haven’t done that in a while, and I went with this one.. 

I read this comic Peter Cannon Thunderbolt tonight--I was pretty irritated by that comic Die the other day.  Anytime I get a comic now, it’s a gamble whether a woman’s going to get slaughtered in the pages, but what’s the alternative?  Watching A+ movies and television on Netflix?  Oh, yeah, that’s 100% the alternative. But anyways, this one got all talked up so what the hell...

It was fine or not or whatever.  I don’t really have much of an opinion on it.  I don’t really care about any of it-- it didn’t have any characters worth describing, or more than a sentence worth of story to it. The art lands some moments but not others.  But it’s fine, you know?  It’s fine.  Who cares?  We’re all dead inside anyways.  I might get the second one just so I can get a better idea of what it’s up to, as the first one wasn’t really clear on that point, either.  It felt like something meant to engage on a "nerd argument” level more than a “good story about characters you might care about” level anyhow, so.

But yeah, so this is another superhero comic talking about other superhero comics.  

I used to read all of those, but I’ve lost track of that conversation now so I probably have no idea how to even understand this one now.  As far as I can understand it, so far this comic is daringly asking “What if the Authority except then what if Watchmen?”

I’m not sure if I’m really into that question, but I’m not an Authority fan so that juxtaposition doesn’t mean much to me.  

I mean, I can see some people saying The Authority contemplated superhero morality as so too Watchmen did, and as so too did the ultimate superhero story I’d like to talk you about, a story called the NEW TESTAMENT. WELCOME TO MY BOOK CLUB, SINNERS.  

But even if we were to say to ourselves “okay, the various pronouncements in The Authority were meaningful and not just chuffah” (which I’m not sure I normally would say that, and I don’t think I believe that, but)... 

Watchmen ends with superheros realizing that human rules and human scales of morality don’t apply to them, as their universe is godless.  And it presents that as basically being a dark and/or tragic realization (and one in the case of Ozymandias that the final panels suggest that even a godless universe might ultimately punish or might be hubristic).  

Whereas The Authority takes that same idea and just repeats it, except presenting it as, like, a woo-hoo power chord.  “Human rules don’t apply because human all suck, let’s blow them all up and make a better world, and fuck in their ashes.”  

(The “humans are all terrible” shtick, regardless of its truth, was too adolescent to remain interesting very long.  I might agree with it but I don’t really care to read it much...)

So, yeah, juxtaposing those two things together just seems... Well, here’s a ukulele cover of Van Halen’s Jump and here’s the 1984-ish(?) video for Van Halen’s Jump.  You know?  (The better Ellis-riffs-on-Moore I remember as being that Supreme comic Ellis did with ... Tula Lotay?  I think that was the more interesting work, but).

I just don’t see what this Peter Cannon thing can drive at that will be that interesting.  But I am curious, I guess.  (I mean, I think any “well this is one of the the characters that the Watchmen were based off of” talk right now has a secondary meaning among the very worst fans who like to pretend creating Watchmen was some nothing act in order to justify its theft, and so I’d condemn that aspect of the book strongly if I thought that was on anyone’s radar besides mine or some intentional play to holler to those fans.  But I don’t really and I’m not really inclined to go off about that so...).  

I mean, the only reason to do the comic is if you think you can push that conversation further.  I agree with Watchmen that the universe is basically godless so I know that I certainly couldn’t push that conversation further. If they think they can, that’s neat enough I guess....Like, one would imagine/hope they’d have some greater idea.  (Though maybe just the juxtaposition is enough for the fans. Fans can talk up just about anything as being deeper than it is, and gussy up any kind of cheap idea with their talk, being fans and all.  Who knows...)

I’m coming to it a little disgruntled, though, just from being exhausted hearing about Watchmen again!  I love that book but man, who isn’t sick of hearing people grouse on about it this way or that way or the other?  Especially after that one Grant Morrison "I’m going to talk back at Watchmen” piece of shit that people talked up.  I didn’t think that was shit.  

But Morrison at least has some interest in technique... The thing that keeps Watchmen vital for me isn’t the discussion of superheroes, I don’t give a shit about any of that-- it’s  the density of the storytelling, the craft in the world-building, craft shit, and those are all areas where the current generation of comic creators just don’t have comparable skills.  

Everything techniquewise in this Peter Cannon thing is just so pedestrian. And I don’t mean that in a way to single it out-- it’s no worse in that respect than other comics being made right now.  But comics being made right now generally are just ... the craft is uninteresting, nearly across the board-- there’s not that many exceptions to that right now.  I mean, and as compared to near-peak Moore??  (From Hell’s peak Moore, but you know, Eddie Campbell...).  

Heck, The Tempest right now, the level of technique Moore can still throw out there-- there’s bits where he just can throw layers and layers of information into a panel.   And that’s him on the wind-down! (Or after the wind-down, depending on when you think the wind-down started).  I don’t know.  It’s ballsy to invite comparison to that guy, when you’re... I mean, who has an equivalent toolset?? Most comics are just a bunch of slowwww animated movies now. 

(I mean, there are more interesting concepts floating around out there now-- the quality of the idea-work in comics is pretty fucking high right now, maybe as high as it’s ever been.  It’s really fun to hear the loglines for comics right now, in that respect.  Reading them, I don’t know, I have no idea what that’s like, but the loglines are great...)  

I don’t know.  

Or I really love something like Copra which takes analog characters to express some kind of deeper love for something and a desire to remix something to bring out the qualities that made it special for you.  Remixing just to argue with what came before you... I mean, Moore’s done that-- that’s definitely part of the League, too.... though to argue about things like, you know, racism, society being bad and stuff yeah you heard me squares society is bad and stuff.  (Moore had a larger worldview than “superhero comics tho” that ... I think was one of many things that rankled about that Morrison Watchmen-riff-- Morrison’s obliviousness to how his own worldview became progressively less and less and less interesting as time progressed, being less political or social, and more, well, just self-marketing, by the end).  

League was never my favorite Moore anyways, until Century and Tempest, both of which I think are pretty interesting (Tempest increasingly so!  I’m really enjoying the heck out of that one...).

Back when I cared more about superhero comics, I always wished they’d take Watchmen more seriously as an influence in the right ways as compared to the ways they took it, which was like “Oh these books can be no fun now with lots of bad first person narration in them.”  But for me the bits that were interesting was Doctor Manhattan towering over Vietnam, or finding out how they effected Richard Nixon’s biography, or how all the cars were electric because of Doc Manhattan creating more lithium or whatever it was he did.  Watchmen applied science fiction techniques-- extrapolation!-- to a genre that tends to be, you know, profoundly conservative despite its outward trappings, and especially adverse to extrapolation....   

So.  I’d wished more people would have chased that, and chased technique (and not just by recreating 9 panel grids).  I’m less interested in comics that are making arguments and picking fights over “what should a superhero comic be” for the kinds of fans who confuse fiction with prescriptions for medicine, except for morality.  Didn’t the Authority have that too, some JLA comic that argued with The Authority?  I didn’t read that shit because who gives a shiiiiiiiiiiit?

A lot of superhero comics, the bit I don’t miss, is all the comics that just wanted to argue about other comics.  Perhaps the worst influence of Watchmen on other creators, far more than, you know, Hal Jordan liking to fingerbang sleeping girls or whatever they had Hal Jordan doing there after Watchmen.  Green Lantern got pretty loco and Alan Moore blamed himself forever.  

But I think the worse legacy is you’d end up reading some Geoff Johns comics where Superboy would be yelling “I’m a DC fan on a messageboard that said bad things about an issue of Geoff Johns’s Flash” and then all the other superheros would beat him up and you’d just sit there going, you know, why the fuck did you need anyone to read this?? Why am I looking at your revenge-soaked spank bank?? And I think that’s part of Watchmen’s legacy too, that you know... We’re all owed an apology.

And....

Shit, that went too long and it wasn’t fun enough to write.  Hm.  That didn’t go well. Fuck. Oh well...

#Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

[ohgoddard]

Storyteller.7.

Holly often wondered why they traveled where they did. Well, she knew why she traveled, but not why Armak did. He truly seemed to just be wandering the world as he has been for millennia upon millennia. There was no real purpose behind where he went, at least none that Holly could discern. Everywhere they went, no matter if it was some sleepy town on the border between Golrokh and the Concord or in the shadow of the Acropolis, Armak seemed to have a story about it. She wanted to think she was doing it for her, taking her to places that held interesting stories behind them that he had the graces to be at. Often though, his stories were benign. The real interesting parts were the details he omitted because he thought them ‘uninteresting’ or ‘unimportant’. Like how the Acropolis wasn’t always floating high in the air or how the dwarves far up north originally lived in small above-ground homes. She still doesn’t believe him fully on that last fact, it seems too unlikely, but regardless he held a wealth of knowledge that only he seemed to know and have a memory of. Even knowledge of Holly’s favorite era of the continent’s history: The Great Divide.

Holly has long been fascinated with the era of history, it is the only one her parents bothered to tell her about outside of the elven conclave. Several members of the conclave left to fight alongside the Kroven clan when that war was still happening, and they were even granted an appearance by the leader herself, Seoven! Holly had grown up with stories from her parents about The Bladed Rose of the East showing up to thank the elves for their expert trail making and ranger skills, and to promise them a seat at the table when the continent was united from Gukrag’s despotic and bloodthirsty reign. At least, that is what her parents told her. She often wondered why Seoven never came back to the conclave after that, or why her parents often went on cynical diatribes about the nation of Golrolkh and betrayal. She didn’t even know the Empire or Concord existed until she left the conclave in the dead of the night and eventually found herself mugged and robbed until Clermont, where all who are chewed up by the land are spit out to. She wanted to know more and wanted to record it all to boot. But the libraries are in the hands of those who won’t share, and those who would share have motives all too ulterior. It was refreshing when she came across the drunk immortal in the town falling to pieces, which she thought was a sad statement on her travels in the world.

She always asked questions, and when the old man was feeling it he would even answer some of them. She could tell he enjoyed her company, even if he had trouble showing it. This did not stifle her frustration with him, as she swore he made it a game to make her as mad as possible sometimes. He would always get away with it in the end, though. Usually by telling some long story about a random rock in the road that is actually the last remaining stone of a huge castle keep he once saw the assassination of some regional noble at. She always questioned where they were going, and always got the same answer: “We’ll know when we get there.” He tried so hard to sound wise, but she knew better. No matter his dour attitudes though, she knew Armak had his bearings straight and would lead them in the right direction.

Armak had no clue where he was.

When you live as long as he has, the lands no longer look the same as he once remembered them. Events he thought as no more than a decade ago were actually a thousand years prior. The oldest men and elves he encounters are children when compared to him. He always looks alien wherever he goes, yet he was once commonplace in these lands. How times change, and how slow he consistently is to change with them. Armak is also not so prideful to admit he is a small amount stubborn as well and is not willing to buy new maps. Armak has been here before, things cannot change that quick. Sure, a few hundred years have passed. But mountains do not appear or disappear in that time. Forests may grow, rivers may change route, but the largest of landmarks must stay.

Armak tells himself this, trying so hard to disregard the extreme world-shaping the Yaldor did which eternally messed with his internal compass. Because those damned Gith, those gods damned mindflayer fuckers, took it upon themselves to do exactly what no one asked for. Ruined so much in terms of natural beauty. And so much more, but Armak is trying to maintain a happy attitude. Especially for Holly. Recently, the stories that surface the way to the top of his memory have been rather morbid ones. Night raids with Seoven, usurping regional rulers through violent coups, tales of arriving at border towns just minutes after the Scartooths’ Warband arrived first. War was not a pretty time, nor were there many happy stories he could tell that he could fill up Holly’s notebook with. There were bound to be fun stories, the war lasted for-gods-damned-ever. It technically ended only a hundred-ish years ago. The veterans of the war are already old men, and there are generations of people who have never known conflict on the scale that used to be commonplace. He hopes it stays that way.

He has been trying to go to places with happier memories. Armak doesn’t know when or even if he will leave this world behind him finally, but he wants his legacy to be better. The years he spent as a spymaster of terror, whose name was spoken among the Scartooths with the same tremor of terror when they spoke of Gukrag. His accomplishments are wide and greatly unknown to even himself. Mostly, he was just there to observe what happened. His involvement is negligible at best, but that does not mean his influence is insignificant. Bloodlines have ended because of him, magical items lost forever, borders changed. He does not want to be remembered for that. He wants to be a folk story people tell. The wise and older than the trees or field they sit near who comes in with stories and advice.

Of course, he’d have to actually talk to people to do that and he abhors conversation on a deep base level of his personality. So, he’d settle with telling his story to Holly. She has more or less forced herself into his life, and he wasn’t going to make any great effort to remove her. He forgot how nice it was to talk to someone. And she has helped him regain some semblance of happiness in his life, so he’s trying to give her some great stories to record in her book.

Now, if only he could find where the hell it was he was moving towards. The desert is a lot bigger than when he was last there some...300-ish years ago. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Armak, I know I ask this a lot, but where exactly are we going?”

Nighttime in the desert was always paradoxically cold. When someone walks through the dunes in the sunlight it feels like the heat walks within you and is twice as intense as your willpower to go on. Yet, when the sun finally leaves you at the crest of night, the cold seeps into your body with the absence of the heat. The two travelers sit close to each other, huddled around the dancing fire Armak summoned on the sands. Armak doesn’t hear Holly the first time she spoke, instead being lost in the stars above him.

She gives him an elbow into his ribs. The serenity of the night has now been shaken from his eyes.

“Armak, please tell me how long we’re going to be in this desert. I hate wearing all these face wraps and heavy clothes. It makes me sweat like a hobgoblin!” Holly was covered head to toe in clothes obviously not designed for her, as they hung off her body in great amounts. Armak snickered, bringing a hand to cover his beak as he looked at her. When he told her they were venturing into the desert, she was initially thankful for the change of scenery. So far, all they have traveled was repeating grassland and cold, snowy mountains. Yet, when the grass began to appear less and less and the air begins to turn arid and hot, she had worry she never thought she would have. Intense dehydration and sunburn.

So, with Holly being unprepared for the situation, Armak gave her a spare set of clothes and wraps he had to protect her from the harsh sandstorms and intense temperatures.

“Oh Holly, you look so ridiculous in that get-up. My goodness, who let you dress like that?” Holly tiredly punches him in the arm for that comment, causing another laugh from the Immortal. “It's not like you can talk,” she mumbled through the wraps on her face,” Mr. ‘I forgot my winter time gloves in Byhurst’. And how about the other times where I've had to give you spare jackets and spare hats and -”

Armak groaned.

“Say what you will about Elf development, your sense of humor matures at a much slower rate. Holly, I mean no harsh feelings towards you. It was a joke.”

The elf glares at him. “I’ll have you know, Elf humor is very refined and hilarious. You just need to know all the prerequisite history and references to understand the hilarity ingrained into every word. Like, ‘Why did the Despoiler of the Elven Faith crack the God Crystal?’ ‘To ascend into the higher realm of being!’”

The desert was quiet, and not a creature moved or made a sound.

“Holly, I have been to most of those events you reference in your jokes and stories. I ‘get’ the elf humor. Sometimes it is funny. I just think that...maybe... You should stick to writing stories instead of jokes.”

If looks could kill, this one would do it via guilt. Holly’s death gaze was further accented by a flush face, something Armak didn’t know to chalk up to embarrassment or anger or the heat. Detecting that a change in topic was needed to avoid conversation in uncomfortable territory, Armak thought quickly.

“This place, Holly, hasn’t changed much since I’ve last been here. At least, in any great amount. The rocks are in the right places, the skeletons of the cities still stand where I once shopped and slept. It's the least changed place in this whole world, Holly.” He stared up into the sky again. Holly’s gaze softened, though she still said nothing.

“Change has been hard for me. It's hard for any long-lived man but on me, it has taken a toll. People whom I have made friends with live their whole lives and give birth to children who will introduce me to their children, ad infinitum. I am friends of families, not people. No one can stay with me. The artificial, even, eventually wither away from damages not even the best artificer can fix. The few who can be in my company I’d rather not be among. They are all evil men or beasts with no morals, with only a desire to consume to keep living. Liches, Demons, lords of dark realms. None are good house guests.” His gaze falls from the stars and into the fire, where he stares.

“I have witnessed much, you know that. I have seen and been through so much change and I remain remarkably the same throughout. Whole forests grew where once was a field. Towns have been founded, expanded, and wiped from history before me. The oceans have risen and sunk, and here I am all the same. Only here, Holly, only here in this desert can I be the thing that changes. A desert doesn’t have to change, it knows it is the end state of all. It is patient. It doesn’t have to see the change to know it will happen.”

Holly looked into the fire with him. Traveling with Armak was...difficult. He has spent centuries on his own, interacting with him was like talking to an elf raised by the wolves. His feelings were not complex ones, but the reason why he felt the way he did was unique. Sure, some may feel life rushes past them, and they are worried that they do not change with the world and have fears of being left behind. Armak was left behind, and no matter how much can try the world will change before he has caught up. He will always be chasing what people who are born and killed in his lifetime will experience threefold. Plus, when he was depressed Holly felt sad too. Holly needed a way to make him happy and fast, otherwise, she’d feel bad about this the entire night and she needed her sleep lest she becomes an actual feral elf in the morning.

“Not all change is bad, you know. There is a good chance you must have seen that has made the stay on this lovely eroding rock of world pleasant. C’mon, I bet if you think about it you can find some good ones.”

Armak chuckled, still looking into the fire.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Holly. I get it, I do. But that isn’t what the problem is. The problem is -”

“Yeah yeah, you’re old and seen a lot. I’m not going to let you dwell on this any longer. You’re going to think some happy thoughts right now or else.” She stood up, crossing her arms at him. His feathered head turned to face her, a quizzical look upon it.

“Oh? And, pray tell, what you might do if I refuse to be the happy boy you want me to be?” “I’ll stop making the strawberry shortcake you like.”

She means business, Armak thought. He better start thinking happy or one of the tastiest things he has ever eaten in his thousand years of life will be taken from him much quicker than he would have liked.

“Well,” he said while dragging on the last ‘L’,” I do remember being in this absolute hellscape some odd hundreds of years ago. The ground was up-heaved, the trees and grass were in flames, the sky itself was red and black from the flame and smoke. It was torn apart by a large Warband that devoured itself a few months later. I remember thinking it was such a waste, the whole land benign devastated over some petty squabble. They’re always petty. I come back to that same spot only seventy years later and it is the most beautiful spot I have ever witnessed. The greenest of fields and most bountiful of game. Trees that gave sweet fruit and not a Warband in sight.”

Holly smiled, laying flat down next to him and propping her head upon her arms with her usual happy listening look.

“Then, I was in this very same desert. Remember the story I told you about the djinni and the sphinxes? I found that very same nomadic tribe, the one of which I have saved the princess from. Turns out, she had united the tribes under her banner through masterful politics and marriage. She also said she had an immortal whose magic and cunning could defeat even that of a djinni. I was made into a story people told around campfires, Holly. Children spoke of me as if I were some saint who watched over them. Mothers used me as a threat to make sure they didn’t go wandering either. It brought about a small era of peace to her spot in the desert. It was a good change. That good can happen, even preceding bad, makes change worth it sometimes.”

Armak raised his head from looking into the fire, glancing over at Holly. A smirked snaked its way onto his face.

“Another positive change I saw was the princess of Fresonia, a long-gone nation. She changed very well. First, she took off her dress, then -”

Holly’s frown and disapproving look was all he needed, causing Armak to go into a small laughing fit. And try as she did to stay looking grumpy at him, she couldn’t completely hold back her smile. After the laughing from Armak died down with a cough, he looked amused with himself. But Holly wasn’t going to let a happy Armak go just yet.

“What do you think was the biggest, positive change you’ve seen?”

Armak raised his hand to face in a pensive manner, holding his beak and stroking it as if it were a wise man's beard. His eyes look into a far-off place, but a smile soon grew on him.

“I have one. Though it may not start all that positive, it has a happy ending. Well actually the story itself is pretty damn dramatic, but it has a happy end overall. Technically.”

This piqued Holly’s curiosity. She righted herself from laying down, brushing the sand off her clothes and hurriedly throwing things out of her bag for her journal. This little panic she did every time Armak was about to go on some long tale always amused him. Reminded him of a time when was a professor at some university somewhere. Eventually, Holly found her ever disappearing notebook and broke out her nifty invention she started leaving in every town they came across; the pencil. She looked up to him, eyes wide with eagerness. “Well? Are you gonna tell it or not?”

He smiled. “Alright. By the way, this story may be of interest to you some. It has some big names in it.”

He cleared his throat, glancing at Holly and knowing that she was racing to try and remember what she considers big compared to what Armak does.

“It all started in the war court of Seoven when the news that Oshphim, the Great Wizard Exarch, died.”

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When one imagines the celebration of a coronation, there is a certain amount of fanfare one expects. Parades, people cheering in the streets  The Exarch is gone, long live the Exarch!, and a grand event any and all can attend and witness. They are events that many do not get to see, as those in power often live lavious and long lives compared to the common people. It was a time of celebration of the new ruler, yet always clashed with the grieving of the old. How someone deals with that delicate balance of emotion is critical to the beginning of their reign.

It would have taken a god themself to drum up any excitement in the royal hall of the great Southern Holdings. For the monarch they lost was beloved by all. Exarch Oshphim was a wise and gentle ruler. His knowledge knew no bounds, and he used it to create a shining jewel in a land where people still separated themselves up by tribes and fought wars by destroying whole peoples. He created cities, his skills in planning were unparalleled. He knew what was needed where and when. And his knowledge was not limited to the functions of the mortal realm, either. He was a wizard of great renown, being able to shape the very earth to his liking on a scale not matched until the Unakran Invasion. He diverted rivers to feed the farms and create fertile land to grow food. He raised the flood walls so buildings and the economy could prosper. He made sure no natural disaster happened unless he wanted it to. And since he never felt ill of those he ruled, it never happened. He fed the hungry, housed the homeless. All worked a decent day and were content under the Exarch. You know, he’s related to that princess I told you about? Wild, isn’t it?

Anyways, the Exarch was beloved by his people. His children on the other hand? Much different story. His children have often been a matter of discussion. They are not wholly Yuan-ti, like their father. In fact, when they were born out of wedlock the country was in upheaval. Such births often caused great succession crises. Hell, the kids didn’t even look that much like the guy. I remember merchants fleeing the main city en masse. However, through his expert statesmanship, he convinced the country that his children were no signs of the end times but an omen of prosperity. For you see, the children were half-celestial. The Exarch, in his wisdom and apparent powerful charisma, found love in a full-blown celestial. The children were, by definition, Aasimar and Immortal.

Now, ignoring the problems of having an Immortal ruler for deep discussions on politics later, the problem the people had with the coronation was with who was ascending to the throne after Oshphim died. His two children could not have been more different in every aspect. To start with, they were born wildly different.  The Celestial who divided her body into two was a being of the stars, and as such had a part in the changing from night to day. One of her children was born with the powers of the sun and the daylight, able to influence the sun’s rays and use them to her whim. The other child was born with the powers of the moon, controlling the tides and able to influence the thoughts and minds of those who dreamt. Though, she never did.

The sun child was dubbed by her father “Solaris”. Her stature was staggering, ahead of long dark auburn hair and eyes of pure glowing gold. She walked with authority yet spoke with a voice that reminded you of those sunny days. She inherited most of her father’s physical traits, her face having sharp angles and a hard brow yet a welcoming smile that literally glowed. Her soft and pale skin always glowed strikingly in her ever-present warm radiant light. Yet, she never shied from the heritage of her mother. She always had these wings of orange and yellow, striking like an angel, furled on her back. We’ll get back to Solaris, as I can assure you Holly you have the wrong idea about her.

The moon child was named “Tungi”. A name from Oshphim’s culture that simply meant ‘moon’. The Exarch was not a creative man, but the names were apt. Tungi was not quite as tall as Solaris and nowhere near as outwardly imposing. Her hair was dark shades of purple which seemed to shift and change into other colors of the night sky. Her skin, like her mother’s, was a dark brown. Her eyes were swirls of stars and splashes of comets, mesmerizing to look into and incredibly hard to have a conversation with her because of it. She spoke with a shy voice, but one that was deep and soothing. Her aura was one of tranquility, one always felt calmer when they stood close to her. However, she liked to blend into the crowd. Despite having most of her mother’s traits, she rarely ever showed her wings. Instead, she often just passed herself off as a human member of the court. She was also amazing at chess.

Tungi was the Exarch’s favored daughter. She looked the most like her mother and carried much the same personality. She would always assist her father in his studies, catch onto magic quickly, and devoured books at the most astounding rate. However, unlike her father, she loathed talking to people if she had to. Not due to any hermit-like personality, or some deep antisocial tendency. No, she was just so incredibly awkward and shy that a conversation with her was next to impossible. This isn’t to say talking to her was hard by any means. She was incredibly charming in her own way. She could talk for hours and hours about the most interesting things she’s read or seen. Or a magic scroll she wrote which could yield greater-sized crops. She never kept on topic. A great scholar, magician, alchemist, city planner, but Tungi could not hold a consistent conversation to save her life. Which, sadly, is what ended up happening at the coronation.

It was no secret Tungi was the Exarch’s favored daughter. It was also no secret that it was Solaris who would ascend the throne. Both children being born at the same time down to the second, it was a matter of private discussion among themselves who should rise to the throne. Tungi put up no fight for it. She knew her limitations but also held no desire to rule. She would be content to live in the castle forever researching magic and being a loyal desire to her sister. Her sister. Now there was the problem, Holly. Solaris rising to power was something no one wanted. Despite being a creature of the light, Solaris was a backroom and dark political monster. Her favorite game growing up in the castle was to find and blackmail members of the court into robbing the kitchen for her. She made deals with foreign dignitaries that ended wars before they even began. Her wit so wicked and her tongue so sharp it was no wonder she rose to have great political control of the court. Every noble, whether they wished to or not, supported her. And this was not limited to her lands either. Exarch Oshphim swore fealty to a higher monarch: Seoven. When the Great Divide happened, he sent his daughters in his place to the War Court to assist in the war.

In the war court, it was very much the same story. I remember when they arrived, Seoven paid them no mind. Solaris went for the attack, trying to butter Seoven up about some victory or another to gain her favor. I swear, the cold shoulder she gave Solaris extinguished her flame a great deal. However, that changed when Tungi approached the map Seoven was surveying. She pointed out several flaws in the supply lines, which when fixed saved hundreds of lives. Tungi quickly became the favored daughter over Solaris once more. This was the last straw, in Solaris’s mind. At least, this is my theory. I could feel something inside her break when she was quite literally passed over by the only other authority figure she has met in her life for her sister.

Solaris was declared heir on the deathbed of Oshphim, the man was that hesitant to name her the monarch. Solaris cultivated a public opinion of herself to the lands like she was the one who brought them their food, their happy memories. The public was in her hand. Yet, those who knew even a little bit of courtroom gossip understood that Tungi would be the better leader if only she could talk to a damn person. As such, the coronation was a dour mood. No one in the room wanted to see Solaris sit upon the throne. It was just the practicality of the situation that she arose to power. Cunning, deceitful, she would be an excellent monarch.

Or a tax collector.

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Holly lets out a loud and humorous snort on that last joke, still hurriedly writing.

“Armak, I appreciate the backstory a lot here and all. And your jokes are top-notch in this story, really. Yet you’ve told me nothing about the actual coronation?”

“Well, Holly, to understand the importance of the change I'm talking about here you’re going to need some ample background information. I’m leaving a lot out too because I know you’re a tired elf right now. And when you’re a tired elf at night, you are often an angry elf in the morning.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘elf’ like that?”

“Like what?”

Holly rolled her eyes.

“Nevermind. What are you leaving out? Make it short, though. My hands are getting tired.”

“Well, first off: their father died when they were out at the war court. It was a very awkward cart ride back. Not just atmosphere-wise either, Seoven was quite large. The sisters also had a huge schism between them. Solaris was always jealous of Tungi’s preference and it was obvious to any observant man. Tungi would never say anything about it. She was optimistic that way. Oh! Solaris was also only kept on Seoven’s war court because she was one of the best generals she ever had. It was almost scary how great a strategic master she was. Tungi was the master logistician, fueling the army her sister led. As well as the rest of the Kroven clan. They were useful in their ways to Seoven.”

The sounds of lead drawing across the paper at speeds never recorded filled the night as he waited for Holly to catch up to his dictation. Armak stared at the sky, smiling. He liked talking of Tungi. She was a good friend of Armak, being the only one who could talk about old events as if they just happened. Mostly due to her studies. He always liked her excited attitude when she got invested in something she loved. A very dedicated woman to whatever craft she wanted to become a master of. Armak glanced at Holly and could remember Tungi doing the same thing on the floor of a tent in War Court.

 As much as things change, some things just stay the same.

“Alright,” Holly said, putting down her pencil momentarily to stretch her hand. “I’ve caught up. Now, I love the backstory. And I will be sure to ask you about it later when I flesh out all these notes I'm taking. However, can we get to the big event itself already? It is getting late after all.”

Armak chuckled. “I forget others don’t have all the time in the world.” Holly made a face at him, motioning with her hands to continue the story.

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Right, the coronation itself despite its dour moods was set in an extravagantly decorated throne room. Red banners depicting the sun rising were hung from the rafters, a not so subtle indication of a new age rising in the land. And also the sun ascending the throne. Solaris was never a subtle person if she could help. Not that she couldn’t sneak, she just preferred to get away with it in open daylight. I remember I was standing with Seoven near the throne, a simple wooden chair by any other name. She wore an elegant dress of her minotaur people, something you won’t see anywhere else. A beautiful purple and gold accent thing. I wore rags compared to it. I think I wore actual rags… Regardless. I was there with Seoven because this was an important event. Not because of the coronation itself, but for the war effort. Sure, while the Southern Holdings had the manpower to supply to the war effort, it wasn’t what made them useful to Seoven. It was the high concentration of magic users. The country was the only one with a magical war college and had the best war casters in the Kroven Clan. Gukrag’s spellcasters consisted no more of a few souls who could create small bumps in the road. With this advantage, the Kroven Clan was advancing towards victory closer and closer. Seoven said to me,” I would rather Gukrag take this kingdom than watch her rise to the throne, but if it means I never have to hear that orc’s despicable name I will swallow my opinions.”

She had such a way with words.

I remember eyeing up the feast table to my right when the doors to the royal hall finally opened. Walking down the aisle was Solaris, tailed by four priests of the Celestial Faith (a very new change made towards the end of Oshphim’s life. One that was controversially thought to be not one made entirely of sound mind or outside influence if you catch my drift here Holly). Dressed in a trailing white gown, adorned with gold accents that reflected her radiant light, and her wings were fully unfurled. It was a spectacle show, one which Seoven visibly did not care for. Coming in, the last of the procession following Solaris, was her sister Tungi. She dressed for her father’s mourning, a simple black gown. A more striking statement could not have been made to the public. As Solaris walked up the steps to the throne and sat in it, I could feel the room tense. It was an uncanny feeling. It felt like the split second you saw someone’s fist before it collides with your nose.

The shoe had been raised and was now waiting to drop.

The priests walk up the steps to Solaris, two of them carrying a small box of obsidian and marble in their hands. The two priests carrying nothing turn to the crowd in the room, nobles and common folk alike. They said, “A new monarch sits upon the throne. The Exarch is dead, a new one rises like the sun. A phoenix from the ashes. Do those of the land’s holdings swear fealty to the ultimate, the one?”

A cry of,” For the Land, we swear fealty” echoes from the crowd. However, I could not forget that Seoven and Tungi remained quiet. For that matter, so did I. But in my defense, I had no idea that was going to happen. Seoven of course did not speak for she was above Solaris. The Empress was not about to swear fealty to a petty queen. But Tungi, she remained silent. A pained smile was on her face.

The two priests with the box opened it, removing a large and spiked golden crown from its interior. They raised it slowly above Solaris’s head and lowered it onto her head. The previous two priests turned to face Solaris and said aloud, “Solaris, daughter of Oshphim, by which power do you swear to keep the lands safe and prosperous? To lead us and keep our lands that shining beacon atop the hill?” Solaris raised one hand and simply laid it against her heart, speaking not a word. She didn’t need to. Murmurs among the crowd spoke for her. By her own divine powers, she declares in her movement, her reign is ordained. With the gesture understood by all, the priests bow their heads to Solaris before turning to the crowd once more.

“The lands have entered a new era! Praise be to the Celestials, who have granted us so much! Praise be to Exarch Solaris!” And as the people cheered, I suspect in fear of what would happen if they didn’t, Solaris rose from her throne. Her wings unfurled and spread wide, beams of light shining bright. The stained glass of the hall cast colors onto every surface, and the bells of the churches in the village below rang in immaculate chorus. The hall all knelt before their new ruler. Except for Seoven and me.

And Tungi.

And I could feel the shoe begin to lower.

“Rise, my loyal subjects. Rise and see your ruler speak to you.” Her voice carried through the very wind, sounding austere and serene. “These are confusing times, I know you all have your worries. My father was a great man, and deserved the praise and love you all gave him. I can only hope to do but a quarter of what he did for you all.” Her speech flowed like a creek in the fall, snaking its way into every ear. This is why she sat atop the throne.

“However, I am troubled that I am to bring more strife into your life.”

And like that, the show dropped.

I looked to Seoven, whose face shaped into one of concern and confusion. This was not how things should be happening. I looked at Tungi across the room and saw a similar look. I began to piece things together in my mind.

“There have been attacks on our lands recently, many of you are aware. We thought it to be the wretched Scartooths, those who broke through our brave soldiers’ front lines to pillage our people. However, I learn of a darker truth. There has been espionage among us! A traitor to us all has allowed bandits and worse to wreak havoc on our homes and farms! One who betrayed not only the people of our fair land but her father.”

The realization hits Seoven first, then I saw it shoot to Tungi across the room. I saw two guards, decked in white and gold armor, shut the mighty doors to the throne room hall. I stopped Seoven’s hand from reaching for her great ax at her hip. I knew what was happening, but if Seoven did what I thought she was going to do it was all for naught. We had to watch it happen. We were powerless.

“Tungi! How could you do this? Betray us all? How could you betray our father? The one who taught you all you knew and more? I know what you did! I know during our missions on the field of the war you would disappear for days only to return without a reason. Now I know the reason why! You were paying off Scartooth bandits to raid us! You sabotaged the supply lines and for what? I’ll tell you why she did it, my people.”

Tungi was shaking, her hands shooting to her mouth in shock. She was backing away from the approaching guards, their halberds drawn. The crowd was dead silent, not daring to make a sound. Tungi was being pushed closer and closer to her sister. I can remember the look of terror in her eyes as she approached me. I can remember the shaking rage of Seoven. The smug, sadistic look upon Solaris’s face.

“Dear sister is a Scartooth traitor!”

It took no great deal of magic to subdue Seoven’s rage. I could feel her anger at Solaris for these baseless accusations. But I knew that action here would only cause more harm. We could not afford a Civil War. So I could only watch in pain and regret the events play out. My entire being was spent trying to keep Seoven was bursting into a rage.

“Well? Have you nothing to say in your defense? Would you merely stand here before me and accept what I say as truth?”

A dirty trick and she knew it. Tungi was in shock, not a word would escape her. You could have put the quickest politician in her spot and not a word would be uttered. She trapped her. Everyone knew this was a ploy, Tungi would never. There was no ground for Solaris to do this. But she was the ruler. She was the law. And if they wanted to keep their heads, they would play along. Such is the game of politics.

As Tungi stood there silent, Solaris laughed.

“Just as I thought. The guilty would never own up to their failures.” Solaris stepped down the steps, standing over her sister with her incredible height. “You will pay for the terror you have put upon our people, and It will be harsh. You will rot in the dungeons for as long as I rule above.” Solaris smiled. “It is what the ruler would prefer happen.” Solaris then mentioned for the white and gold guards to take her sister, turning to walk back up the steps to the throne.

But the guards would never get Tungi.

A shockwave emanates from the Moon princess, sending onlookers and the guards back several feet. Even Solaris was shoved into the steps. Glorious wings of white and soft blue unfurled from Tungi as she rose into the air, arms stretched before her. The stained glass windows all shattered, and the great doors to the throne room were thrown off their hinges. The candles in the room all snuffed, and the sun outside was masked by rolling clouds of rain. I saw Solaris turn in shock and fear, such a look was never before seen on her face. And I felt it genuine.

Tungi as she floated in the air looked powerful, yet I saw on her face were tears. In a voice never before heard from her, it echoed deep and powerful. “Sister, why do you betray me so?! Why do you lie to our people as your first act as ruler? Do you truly hate me this much? Have I been this bad to you that you would banish and imprison me than talk? That you would make a power grab when no one dare opposes you?!” Another shockwave, sending cracks into the stonework of the castle. “Solaris! We are sisters! We are of these people! Why act like you’re above them! I do not see a throne of gold, but one of wood like any other might sit on. You rule a kingdom of wax, and I fear the day you burn too bright and watch it all melt!”

Tungi flew to open doors of the great hall and faced the crowd and her sister.

“I will return!” As she spoke, her voice cracked in a sob. “I-I will be back! I will reclaim this land from you! For I have no ambition of power, only ever wanting to serve my people. Yet I would rather be a reluctant ruler than one who would turn it to ruin. A traitor you call me? Then a traitor I shall become!”

With that last line, she looked forlornly down to me and Seoven, mouthed a word of sorrow and apology, and flew out the door. Never to be seen again in the realm.

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

“The cart ride back to the war court was awful, let me tell you. It was just me and Seoven, Solaris staying behind to ‘serve’ her kingdom. I had to endure hours of yelling on betrayal, how it was all horsepiss that Tungi would even think to betray, that Solaris would be killed on sight if she ever saw here again and so much more. She also socked me for magically subduing her, but she understood why. We had a fun relationship like that.”

Holly looked up at Armak, shocked. Pencil unmoving.

“But what happened with Solaris after all of that?” “Oh, Seoven tried to ignore her as much as possible. Stave her influence off the war court as much as possible. However, Solaris had a chokehold on the most valuable resource ever; war casters. Plus, when news got out the Scartooths had an all-power Archmage it was only a matter of time before Seoven brought in Solaris’s magic again. Not that Solaris ever left the Southern Lands after that, she was afraid of Seoven, and rightfully so.”

“Who was the Scartooth’s new mage?” Armak grinned. “Who do you think?”

Holly’s face exploded in surprise. “TUNGI?! But I thought you said it was a lie that she was a traitor?”

“And it was. However, with nowhere else to turn in hope of regaining her throne, she went to Gukrag. It's funny, though. You are aware of Gukrag, right?”

Holly nodded. “Yes, the Warboss of the Scartooths. Big orc.”

“Exactly. When Tungi approached him, the story goes, he yelled into the sky ‘FUCKING FINALLY’ then proceeded to make her in charge of his nation.”

Holly blinked. “Wait what?”

“Well, not in charge of his nation per se. It took a while for Tungi to gain his trust. He saw her amazing magical skill. He saw that she could puppet hundreds of people, disintegrate whole armies, flood battlefields, and win things without a fight at all. This was incredibly boring to Gukrag. But, he was convinced of her loyalty to him in as far as reclaiming her old land. Gukrag then did perhaps the smartest thing he ever did. He put in her charge of making his country better. Holly, this orc could not run a major nation to save his life. The whole country was held together by fear of them disobeying Gukrag. She built schools, paved roads, healing buildings, made living spaces, she transformed that rough collection of tribes into a nation that is revered and respected to this very day. All according to Gukrag’s plan. He’s not an idiot, he is insanely clever and smart in ways outside of books. He knew he was no expert in nation-building, only in combat and battles. But the preferred daughter of the great nation builder Oshphim? You don’t have to be a genius, Holly.”

Holly sat there, speechless.

“This..this changes everything I thought I knew. But Armak, I’m confused. How is this a positive change? The rightful and good Monarch was usurped by the evil! Everything in that story was bad!” “Ah, but you think in the past. Think of the now. Ever heard of the Lunavla Empire?”

“You’re not saying..”

“I am. The most prosperous nation, the best place to live hands down. Accepting of all, turning away none. The noblest of places. I’d say that is a good change, wouldn’t you?” Armak stood laid back in the sand, getting comfortable. Holly, still scribbling away in her notepad, leaning against his long and gangly legs. “Armak, this..this is so interesting. I wish I could speak to another person there that day.” “Oh, you can.” Holly gave Armak a look of doubt. “I don’t want to use necromancy again, it makes me feel sick.” “No, silly girl. They are still alive. Two of them. I am good friends with one.”

Holly was growing tired of getting shocked. “Who? How old are they?” “Oh, she would not appreciate it if you asked her that. But I’m surprised you can’t piece it together.” “You don’t mean Tungi is still alive?” “Do you actually listen to my stories? Remember, she is half celestial.”

Holly closed her book and threw it in her bag, exhausted. She stretched out before returning to laying on Armak’s legs.

“You owe me an audience with a monarch.” “I owe no such thing.” But it didn’t matter, she was fast asleep. And as Armak looked up into the starry sky, he smiled.

A positive change indeed.

#St:A&H

[nerdy-bits]

An Update of Sorts

The last few months have been...rough. That’s putting it mildly. It’s been a full year now since I quit my job at GameStop, a full year of pandemic lockdowns started, and four months since the birth of my son. A heaping spoonful of good added to a stew of less than ideal. For the largest amount of that time, video games have been the only real outlet I had. The lockdown did something to my brain, to everyone’s brain, and writing, creating “content” (blech I hate that word), has taken the back burner. I did put out one review last year. But that’s really it. And I hate it. 

Immediately following my exodus from GameStop I found myself drawn to games that replaced the feeling of having a job. I dove headlong into Stardew Valley. I found a lot of solace building a routine in that game, internalizing my tasks, fostering relationships with the locals, making progress towards a sustainable farm. IT was nice, and completely out of character for me. I generally played fast-paced shooters, Rocket League, or any number of other competitive multiplayer games. Stardew acted as a salve. A respite from the harebrained frenetic back and forth of Call of Duty. 

But as time went on, Stardew fell off. Not exactly sure why. I miss it greatly, but my buddy Ryan and I have struggled to make time for it since we last put it down. We’re only just now making plans that we seem to be adamant on following through with. Still, despite finding games throughout the last year to help take my attention away from the in-person interaction deficit we all faced, I could not find the motivation to create. To really make things. 

The last few months have been rough. After my son was born, on Christmas (poor bastard), everything changed. Not in a negative way at all. But the months immediately following his birth meant a lot of time away from streaming, podcasting became a second or third priority, and personal creation - already at an all-time low - took another hit. Now, with my wife back at work and the kids spending the majority of afternoons at the in-laws, I find myself trying to reacclimate to being in my office. Trying to utilize my time and tools to get back into a routine of making things. 

And it has been unbelievably hard. Far harder than I would have hoped. 

Being an independent journalist is hard. File that next to other supremely obvious statements that I have made so far in this piece. It’s a struggle I am familiar with, sure, but in this exact moment the difficulty comes with a mental roadblock I generally try to avoid. 

Depression is a weird and all encompassing beast. My journey with it started back in 2011. I quit playing baseball that year. An outlet that I had in my life for nearly 15 years. I would play a few seasons of summer ball outside of school, but for the most part that hobby died on the vine. I could have taken that further. I hate myself for it at least once a week. 

Shortly after that two things happened. I started smoking and I started down the path of being a game journalist. Some good with the bad.

I have done some pretty awesome things writing about games, from getting early code for games, to getting into a few events due to my credentials. I have written some of my best work as well. A review of Far: Lone Sails that would grab the attention of the creators, a touching piece about playing Florence in the ICU waiting room as my grandfather’s passing drew close. All of these things have served as a sort of “proof of concept.” A means for me to step back and say to myself that I can do this. But at the same time that I was writing those I was also encountering a deep sense of imposter syndrome. Did I belong in this space? If the only pieces I could write were centered on the death of my grandfather could I really call myself a journalist? Other articles came and went, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a bit of a fraud. Banking on emotional trauma to draw attention.

The last few months have been rough. With an ongoing battle over managing my time between being a father and husband, overcoming crippling depressive bouts, fighting against overwhelming feelings of imposter syndrome, and trying to dodge the expectations that I put on myself and others have I have found myself in a rut. A deep, dark, and lonely rut. 

The last couple years have been tough for podcasting. We lost one member to work and family expansion (congrats Eric, truly), another left for personal reasons that I’m not quite sure I understood at the time or understand now, but we bounced back. We added Ben and Tech to the formula and things have been going great. For the most part. I can’t escape the feeling that I let all of them down on a regular basis, largely because of a lack of output on my part. A lack that I know is coming from severe mental struggles and balancing an ever complicating home life. The point is, I know I’m falling short. And I hate it. But I’m kind of afraid to express my regret and explain myself because my imposter syndrome makes all of my genuine reasons sound like vapid excuses. After all, other people are making things, why can’t I?

Wanting to get into journalism or, on the macro level, into the gaming industry at large remains my primary goal. I’m just struggling right now. I don’t want anyone to feel required to do work that I can’t consistently pull off. I don’t want anyone to feel like they are holding NerdyBits up while I’m over here wallowing in a pit. I have big plans. But big plans require mental fortitude, and that is an ongoing battle. 

I guess what I am trying to say is: The last few months have been rough. But I’m not going anywhere, I’m just building up my focus again. Stacking stones. Steeping the tea leaves. I’m starting a series focused on storytelling in games for Bounty Board, and that is going to be followed by a series focused on games and depression. I have articles that I’m tumbling in my head. I have a new capture card on its way so I can get back to streaming more. I have creative projects in progress for the first time in what feels like years. I’m starting to get that first domino to rock. As soon as I can get it to fall, I know things will start happening more regularly. 

So this is a progress update. Patch notes if you will. Bug fixes and network stability patches. I’m Outriders right now. A good game marred by a bit of launch instability but nevertheless a work in progress that will inevitably be a place for people to spend countless hours. The NerdyBits Show rocks, Bounty Board is still strong, the stream is coming back. Articles are in the hopper. 

Be kind to yourself, everyone. The last year will have an impact on all of us for the next several months, perhaps even throughout 2021. But everyone is hurting, in a weird place mentally. But MLB The Show is on Xbox for the first time ever and ya boy is jacked. Stick with it, fight through the voices within and without, put your blades to the whetstone and sharpen your wit. We all could be better at communicating with each other. So let’s get better together, eh? Also...did I mention baseball is back on Xbox!?

Let’s see what we can do with NerdyBits in 2021. 

#depression #games #video games #article #readable #personal #post #nerdybits #blog

[ladyherenya]

Books read in February

I continued on with three series I started in January, and read a few sequels to books/series I started last year. One book was co-written by an author I discovered in January, and the remaining three were by new-to-me authors. Yet again, nearly everything was fantasy and science-fiction. Clearly I was not being very adventurous...

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing. And also my Dreamwidth blog.)

The Tethered Mage by Melissa Caruso:  Lady Amalia Cornaro is walking around incognito when she’s enlisted to tether a rogue fire-mage threatening to burn the city. I kept expecting this to be more consistently gripping. Amalia’s under a lot of pressure, trying to juggle conflicting loyalties, her choices constrained and scrutinised, yet she approaches things with an amount of calm confidence. It’s quite believable, given her strong sense of identity and relationship with her mother, but undercuts the urgency somewhat. Otherwise, this has memorable characters, satisfyingly-complex political intrigue and rich worldbuilding. I’m interested in seeing what happens next.

Discworld - City Watch books by Terry Pratchett:

Feet of Clay (narrated by Nigel Planer): The Watch investigate a couple of murders and the attempted-poisoning of Lord Vetinari.  Meanwhile, something’s going on with the golems. I’m impressed that people plotting to replace Vetinari with a king has been a recurring theme without becoming repetitive. But I really like how Pratchett writes detective/mystery stories - that’s partly why I’m finding these books so engaging. I also liked how the characters’ respective prejudices were challenged. A downside I often experience with audiobooks is that I can’t remember, or else easily look up, my favourite passages afterwards. This time I’ve had no trouble remembering.

Jingo (narrated by Nigel Planer): The first book to actually take the Watch beyond the city of Ankh-Morpork. An island rises from the sea and Ankh-Morpork prepares to go to war over it… with some difficulty, given a lack of army. I was somewhat less entertained by the middle section, which is not so much an investigation as a sea adventure -- I don’t think I laughed quite so often nor was as gripped by the story. However, all the bits with Vimes were great, and I was satisfied and delighted by the way the everything eventually twisted together.

Penric’s Fox, a novella in the World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold (narrated by Grover Gardner): Set soon after Penric and the Shaman. It’s a self-contained story, so jumping from the later books back to this one works. Penric and his friends investigate the murder of a temple sorceress; Pen and Des are most concerned with finding the sorceress’ demon. I enjoyed this a lot, especially seeing Pen interact with another sorcerer and with the princess-archdivine. Some of their conversations hit unexpectedly serious and emotional notes.  I was hoping that further instalments would be set after the later books, but now I’m confident that whatever stories Bujold chooses to tell next will be interesting.

Shadowsong by S. Jae-Jones: The sequel to Wintersong is about things starting with the letter M: “Madness, mania, melancholy. Music, magic, memories.” I like the prose, setting and characters, and he way Liesl’s siblings and music are so important to her. I like that the story takes her struggles seriously and affirms that, even though she can be difficult and moody, she’s still loved. But I was not a fan of the way the plot unfolded. Some stories meander satisfyingly, but I just found it frustrating here. I’m disappointed... yet at the same time glad I made an effort to finish it?

Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples:

Volume Three: I enjoyed this volume, with its themes about families. I liked the moments of rich characterisation, and the picture-book quality of the narration. There were dramatic twists too, and funny moments, and lovely moments, and heartbreaking ones (AHHH, STOP HURTING CHARACTERS I LIKE), and the sort of weirdness I know to expect. I’m still super invested in the characters - and still super worried something really awful will happen that will just ruin everything. I know I’ve come to the wrong story if I want everyone to be okay, but I just want everyone to be okay, okay?

Volume Four: This feels like the start of a second season. Alana, Marko and their daughter, now a toddler, are still in hiding but otherwise things are comparatively calm. Hazel’s narration ominously makes it clear that this stability is about to unravel. I don’t think what happens is objectively worse than anything in the previous volumes, but I found this volume more disquieting and less enjoyable. Were there fewer heart-warming and fewer funny moments, to balance out the everything else? Or is it just that my sense of dread, as I waited for everything to go wrong, colouring things?

The Books of the Raksura by Martha Wells:

Stories of the Raksura, volume one: This contains a couple of novellas and a couple of short stories. The longest, The Fallen World, is about Moon after The Siren Depths, and is exactly what I expect from Raksura stories: Moon is (understandably) emotional, Stone is supportive; they explore a place which is mysterious and vividly imaginative, and solve problems with teamwork. I love it. The other three stories are all prequels. I wasn’t expecting to like The Tale of Indigo and Cloud story so much. Cerise is level-headed and understanding, and it’s fascinating to get an insider’s view of a normal reigning queen and her court.

Stories of the Raksura, volume two:  This collection of stories veers more towards mysteries of a strange world than courtly intrigue. The Dead City is a prequel. Moon is not in a great place. From the subsequent books, I know that things do get better for him -- but not just yet -- which gives this story a rather melancholy vibe. The Dark Earth Below is set after The Siren Depths. Moon is anxiously anticipating a momentous - positive - development and investigates an issue concerning their neighbours.. I enjoyed the glimpses into life for the court. Also notable: one of the short stories, “Mimesis”, is from Jade’s perspective!

Weave a Circle Round by Kari Maaren: Freddy wants to fly under the radar but one of her weird neighbours is in all her classes. This reminded me of Diana Wynne Jones -- a similar blend of eccentric characters, magical shenanigans, mythology, commentary on storytelling, with a relatable portrayal of growing up and of difficult family dynamics. Yet it has its own style and its own narrative priorities, like thoughtful, matter-of-fact inclusion of disabilities, and exploring what it means to be “chosen” in this sort of fantasy. I was impressed with the way it has an epic scope yet remains tightly focused. Every detail counts. I loved it.

The Snow Sister by Emma Carroll (narrated by Victoria Fox): A short historical children’s novel. Pearl’s father receives news that he is a beneficiary of his brother’s will, and her mother sends her out to buy the ingredients for Christmas puddings. This shopping trip doesn’t go as expected.I borrowed this because I needed another audiobook and I like the narrator. It’s a sweet story, a touch heavier-handed in its message than I’d prefer, but it took off in directions I hadn’t predicted and kept my interest.

Binti: The Night Masquerade by Nnedi Okorafor: Sequel to Binti and Binti: Home. This took me by surprise in terms of what happened and how strongly I felt about it. Binti tries to save her family and avert a war. She also reaches an understanding of her identity. She hasn’t followed the path expected of a Himba girl; she’s left home and changed physically as well as personally; she has a bond to a Meduse and has learnt about her heritage from her father’s family. I liked how it pulled together the threads running through the trilogy and that, although it’s a story involving conflict and loss, there’s acceptance and joy.

Illuminae by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff: An intense young-adult science-fiction thriller, told through messages, memos, interview transcriptions, reports describing surveillance footage, diagrams and other documents. It’s the most surprising and creative epistolary novel I’ve read. A remote mining outpost is attacked by a rival cooperation, and the spaceships of evacuees are pursued -- and they have other problems onboard. Two recently-broken-up teenagers work together to uncover secrets the ships’ captains are hiding. Their story is tense, occasionally funny, sometimes sad, with unexpected twists. I wondered if it would become too dark, but it didn’t. I was really impressed with the way everything fitted together.

A Little Taste of Poison by R.J. Anderson: Sequel to A Pocket Full of Murder. Isaveth is offered a scholarship to attend Tarreton College. She’s excited about studying magic but worried about fitting in, especially if her  classmates discover she’s a poor Moshite whose father was recently and infamously accused of murder. I enjoyed this, at first in a gentle sort of way and then -- as the stakes are raised -- with a greater sense of urgency. It continues the story from the first book while allowing Isaveth to explore new territory: magic school, and new friendships. I particularly liked how the story handled relationships between female characters.

#Herenya reviews books #Herenya recommends things #Discworld #Melissa Caruso #Lois McMaster Bujold #the World of the Five Gods #The Illuminae Files #Amie Kaufman #R.J. Anderson #Raksura #Martha Wells #Kari Maaren #Emma Carroll #Saga comic

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 9 April 2018

Quick Bits:

Animosity: Evolution #5 gets to the heart of the criminal enterprise undermining Wintermute’s authority, operating the black market, and what they’ve been trying to accomplish. This arc has definitely been interesting so far, showing that the animal organizations aren’t really all too different from their human counterparts.

| Published by AfterShock

Avengers #688 raises the stakes higher as we speed towards the conclusion of “No Surrender”. While the Challenger flips the table on the game, this issue takes its perspective from Quicksilver, setting up the next stage for his forthcoming Quicksilver: No Surrender limited series.

| Published by Marvel

Barbarella #5 tosses in some more weird science as Barbarella and Vix go prospecting for RUST.

| Published by Dynamite

Bloodshot Salvation #8 begins to marry up the timelines, such that the present is becoming the “soon” timeline that began in the first issue, as Bloodshot travels through the Deadside and we find out how he got tossed into the future. It’s interesting to see how Jeff Lemire’s non-linear threads have been playing out through the story.

| Published by Valiant

Brothers Dracul #1 reunites the team of Cullen Bunn and Mirko Colak, having recently completed the Unholy Grail series, here for an interesting take on the Vlad Tepes story and the Dracula myth. Bunn takes a different approach to the myth, rooting it in much of the recorded history of Vald, his family, and Wallachia under Ottoman rule and it results in a much more grounded story. At least for the first issue. The art from Colak, with colours by Maria Santaolalla, is also great.

| Published by AfterShock

Captain America #700 is Chris Samnee’s last issue on the series, and the last of his work at Marvel for the time being, and he sure does go out with a bang. Samnee and Mark Waid stitch up a conclusion to the Cap in the future arc, although there are some interesting ramifications of the story to unpack, including presenting an idea of the futility of hope. That’s probably bleaker than the creative team necessarily intended it to be read as.

| Published by Marvel

Champions #19 begins the next chapter in the team’s chronicles, with Jim Zub and Sean Izaakse taking over as the new creative team. The art from Izaakse and colourist Marcio Menyz is wonderful throughout, including some great character designs. It’s also interesting to see how Zub has the team approaching new recruits like Ironheart as they try to figure out how the new pieces fit.

| Published by Marvel

Cold War #3 dives into the past of two survivors this time, giving us a look into the history and personalities of LQ and Johnny. Even as the latter fights for relevance and control in the present, seemingly unable to accept the leadership of Vinh or her attempts to protect everyone remaining. Then Christopher Sebela drops another bomb on us as to the state of this future.

| Published by AfterShock

Crude #1 is an interesting beginning, setting up a bit of a mystery involving the death of the son of a former Russian agent, as he gets dragged back into a seedy, harsh existence to hunt down his son’s murderers. Steve Orlando begins this first issue mostly as set-up, flashing back through both Piotr and, his son, Kiril’s lives before getting us to the main plot and arrival at the setting, and source for the title.

| Published by Image / Skybound

The Dead Hand #1 is an impressive debut, capturing perfectly the intrigue and action of a Cold War thriller, matched with the bleakness of more modern interpretations of Russia and a twist that you’ll never see coming. Kyle Higgins’ Image outings tend to be wonderful reads, like COWL and Hadrian’s Wall, and this series seems no different so far. It’s also great to see Stephen Mooney providing the line art here, his style is perfectly suited to spy and thriller stories, especially as coloured here by Jordie Bellaire.

| Published by Image

Deadly Class #33 continues to tear everything down, blow everything up, or beat it into a bloody pulp. Nothing seems to be safe. Rick Remender and Wes Craig seem intent on putting everyone through the wringer, and Craig (with colours from Jordan Boyd) is reminding everyone why he’s one of the best artists working in comics today.

| Published by Image / Giant Generator

Doctor Strange #388 is another integral part of the Damnation event, diving into Strange’s possession and what’s going on with the other fallen heroes current plaguing Vegas at Mephisto’s behest. The story from Donny Cates is good, weird, and has Niko Henrichon at the very top of his game.

| Published by Marvel

Domino #1 is damn great. In some ways, it feels like old home week, as Gail Simone brings back some of the characters and stylistic quirks from her time writing Deadpool and Agent X, complete with the humour, action, and absurdity, but at the same time, this feels fresh. It’s not as over the top as the other two outings and it makes for what feels to me like a better story. It also makes the humour pop a bit more as it feels natural. Also, the art from David Baldeón and Jesus Aburtov is gorgeous. Baldeón surprised me with how great his art has become on Spirits of Vengeance and here he’s bringing it to an even higher level. This first issue is fun and comes very recommended.

| Published by Marvel

Dry County #2 sets up the mystery. After being embroiled in Janet’s life as a kind of sad sack saviour in the first issue, Lou gets his hopes dashed by her kidnapping this issue. If it follows traditional Miami Noir themes, I have my suspicions about it, but here Rich Tommaso plays it straight and uses it to start Lou down the path to find out what happened to her.

| Published by Image

Exiles #1 begins a gathering the team arc, as Blink is drafted back into the multiverse-saving business by the reappearance of the Tallus and the Unseen’s premonitions of the white fire of nothingness caused by the Time Eater. Saladin Ahmed does a great job of playing with Exiles history and Marvel ephemera in constructing this first issue, but the real star is the artwork. Javier Rodríguez is one of Marvel’s underrated talents who really should be heralded as a superstar. Here, he, Álvaro López, and Jordie Bellaire make this issue one of the most visually interesting on the stands, with great page layouts, interesting panel transitions, phenomenal use of page for storytelling effect, and unique character designs. This is a great start and I’m dying to see more.  

| Published by Marvel

Gideon Falls #2 continues a slow burn through the story, focusing on both Norton and Father Fred’s experiences with the black barn, and the world beyond them not believing their respective stories. It’s a common horror and mystery thread, but it’s still interesting how Jeff Lemire is framing the narrative and building the characters through the dialogue. Also, the art from Andrea Sorrentino and Dave Stewart continues to be amazing. 

| Published by Image

Ninja-K #6 plays with a number of the messes that have yet to be cleaned up across the Valiant universe. It’s interesting to see Christos Gage play with the toys, with visceral art from Juan José Ryp and Jordie Bellaire.

| Published by Valiant

No. 1 With a Bullet #6 is a brilliant end to what has been an excellent series. Jacob Semahn, Jorge Coello, and Jen Hickman have a story here that is relevant in today’s society obsessed with social media, and delves deep into what can happen when that obsession turns deadly and debilitating. There’s one last twist this issue and the art, especially as it simulates the current state of Nash’s eyesight, is amazing. I highly recommend this series.

| Published by Image

Oblivion Song #2 fleshes out a bit more what happened from Earth’s perspective on the day that parts of Philadelphia fell into Oblivion. It’s interesting to see it unfold, especially in relation to the two recent survivors who came back. It’s slow going, and there are oblique character moments, but it’s enthralling.

| Published by Image

The October Faction: Supernatural Dreams #2 sees the summoned demon wandering around, causing havoc, raising hell. Oh, and Geoff and Vivian get their butts handed to them.

| Published by IDW

Prism Stalker #2, like the first issue, is very, very strange. On the one hand, it’s presented and illustrated by Sloane Leong as this surrealist weird comic that almost defies classification. Kind of like some of the silent indie comics out there that are more experienced than “read”. On the other hand, the story Leong presents is fairly mundane, one of coming of age in what appears to be an oppressive alien society. I’m not really sure what to make of it still, but it has my attention.

| Published by Image

ROM & The Micronauts #4 gets the full band back together in our world as the final battle against Baron Karza and the Dire Wraiths looms on the horizon. Christos Gage waxes philosophical on physical and emotional change, and how love will find a way in strange cases, but what’s really pushing us towards the final battle is the promise of raising the Lovecraftian monstrosity at the heart of the Earth.

| Published by IDW

Sleepless #5 works further on the intrigue going on, revealing that some of the plots may not have been put into motion by who we may have be led to believe previously.

| Published by Image

Sword of Ages #3 has the crap hit the fan. Some of the political machinations come to a head and it’s all pretty glorious. Gabriel Rodríguez is telling an incredible story here, adapting Arthurian legend in a very unique way.

| Published by IDW

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #81 is a densely packed narrative, picking up on the threads from the recently concluded Triceratons arc, the running undercurrent of Splinter’s ideas for the Foot Clan, while also spilling out the return of the Rat King after TMNT Universe #19. There’s a lot going on, but I’d argue that Kevin Eastman, Bobby Curnow, and Tom Waltz make it accessible and interesting. Aiding in that effort is phenomenal art from Dave Wachter and Ronda Pattison.

| Published by IDW

Thanos #18 concludes “Thanos Wins” and with it this chapter of the Mad Titan’s adventures (apart from a forthcoming annual in a couple of weeks). This issue is big and epic and has a very interesting ending. Donny Cates, Geoff Shaw, and Antonio Fabela have outdone themselves.

| Published by Marvel

Vs. #3 gets a look at the ruling class in this world, trying to figure out why Flynn’s ratings remain high despite him continuing to suffer losses. It’s a little dry, but it does set up some further conflict between Flynn and Devi, and continues to draw some beautiful art from Esad Ribić.

| Published by Image

X-Men Blue #25 gives us a main story with Magneto’s confrontation of Miss Sinister and her allies, while Polaris and the other remaining X-Men lick their wounds in Madripoor. There’s also a back-up that serves as a bridge between the “Poison X” and Venomized stories for the original five and Venom, with some really nice art by Mike Perkins and Andy Troy.

| Published by Marvel

X-Men Red #3 gives some more oblique hints at what’s really going on, as anti-mutant hysteria begins reaching critical mass and attacks, protests, and riots begin to spill over. Tom Taylor is aptly using parallels to current events across America and the world here and it makes it a bit scarier.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: Algeria is Beautiful Like America, The Archies #6, Astonisher #6, The Beauty #21, Ben Reilly: The Scarlet Spider #17, The Despicable Deadpool #298, DuckTales #8, Eternal Empire #8, Falcon #7, Ghost Money #9, James Bond: Casino Royale, Minky Woodcock: The Girl Who Handcuffed Houdini #4, Old Man Logan #38, Planets of the Apes: Ursus #4, Resident Alien: An Alien in New York #1, Rick Veitch’s The One #3, Rose #10, Shock, Spider-Man vs. Deadpool #31, Star Wars: Darth Vader #14, Star Wars: Thrawn #3, Tomb Raider: Survivor’s Crusade #4, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl #31, Venomized #2

Recommended Collections: Aliens/Predator/Prometheus: Fire & Stone, Cable - Volume 2: Newer Mutants, Clover Honey, Coyotes - Volume 1, Deadpool vs. Old Man Logan, DuckTales: Mysteries and Mallards, Family Trade - Volume 1, Jean Grey - Volume 2: Final Fight, Lazarus X+66, Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man - Volume 2: Most Wanted, Rock Candy Mountain - Volume 2, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Volume 5: Arms Race, TMNT/Usagi Yojimbo - Expanded Edition, Transformers: Till All Are One - Volume 3, The Unbelievable Gwenpool - Volume 5: Lost in the Plot, Underwhere

d. emerson eddy tried to make a souffle a few days ago. It fell.

#This Week in Comics

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 32

Spoilers, obv.

While I've done this in my Tumblr asks, I forget if I've put this in the actual notes or not. I would presume I haven't, because if I'd put the following caveat in the Writer’s Notes and I'm still being asked when the Writer Notes are coming when they're later than usual by people who presumably read the Writer Notes it would be more than a little rude.

(I write the following, and then bounce back here to put a caveat on my caveat. Don't worry if you've done the following. It's not the end of the world, it's really only a minor annoyance in the larger scale of things, and you didn't know.)

I've done Writer Notes for every single issue of WicDiv. That's 34 (with the Specials), including this one. They appear before the next issue drops. I've gone as late as the day before the issue is released. I don't believe I've ever gone any later. That's how it's always happened.

“Before the next issue.” That is when to expect my Writer Notes. It is not “late” until the next issue drops.

I write them as soon as I have time. If I haven't done it earlier in the month, you may safely assume that I've got other commitments that have to be prioritised above writing something which is, in a very real way, not part of my job.

If you're worried whether you've missed them, the Writer Notes are always tagged on my tumblr. You can click this link and see if they're there or not. There is no need to ask me.

I do not appreciate anyone asking where they are and when I'm going to do it. Please, don't do it. It stresses me out, both in the frustration at the entitlement in believing I should be writing it instead of many of the other things I should be doing, and in the simultaneous and entirely contradictory response of I SHOULD BE DOING THEM WHY THE HELL AM I NOT DOING THEM I AM LETTING EVERYONE DOWN!!!!

There is only so much a creative can give.

Er... and that appears to have segued into this issue's theme, hasn’t it?

Jamie/Matt's Cover

We finally reach full bleed on the Imperial Phase covers. By this point, I suspect pretty much everyone has seen what we're doing with the covers, and the implicit question of “how can you follow something that's doing this to full bleed”.

This is one of my favourite WicDiv covers. Jamie and Matt have excelled themselves here. The nonchalance of Dionysus, a return of the Acid House badge and so on. It's completely different to all the other gods – as is the nature of Dio – but is also the most visually magnificent. I love this.

Noelle Stephenson

Is a force of nature, and doesn't really need me hailing her here. Suffice to say, BUY NIMONA IF YOU HAVEN'T. She jumped at Baal/Minerva, and we just sat and let her do her thing. Clearly with this issue's content it rubs up unusually.

Walking Dead Cover

Homaging their issue 150 cover. We did it with 32, which makes it kinda funny. Persephone in her issue 22 costume.

IFC

With the double-length of Imperial Phase, we're very much reaching the recap page's breaking point in terms of working out what information to include. I smile that I managed to fit “He is such a shit” in there though.

Page 1

Return to the three panel of the start of last time. Immobility remains the point. I had a slightly more writer-y line for Sakhmet in the second panel, but I generally find it's best to strip her back to Just The Facts. There's no need to fence with Sakhmet.

Jamie's addition of a bloody-handed yawn is a perfect way to add a secondary reveal to the scene.

Reading people's commentary. I find it interesting that people seem to have Persephone's expression in the last panel to be bored. It reads pretty clearly as a wince to me. It's a very small response – which is, of course, the point – but it's definitely not ambivalent. One of the things in comics is how much for characters to verbalise, and how much you can just leave to the art. This is not a thing which has any one solution.

Pages 2-4

There's a craft thing here of note – we only explicitly introduce the idea that there is a sexual consent issue at this point in the Woden scene. We don't think leaving that sort of threat across a month is either ethical or useful. In a serialised narrative, we try to weigh these things up.

(It's still relatively quiet. There's twelve Valkyries. The thirteenth Asian girl is Cassandra.)

The page transition of Dionysus kicking in is the sort of thing I love as a storyteller. Repeats with a tiny difference.

The dialogue was moved a little after drawing, so as to leave the final panel on page 3 silent. Jamie's expression was perfect and didn't need disruption – more so when Matt pops the reds.

The glo-stick nunchaku first appeared in Rising Action, and make a return here. They were inspired by Christian Ward and Catherine Rooney's wedding, when they distributed a bunch of glo-sticks during the 90s rave set the DJ dropped. I was spinning them around, and it got me thinking.

Page 4 is obviously the key image, capturing Dio's hamartia in the same way as Amaterasu's final panel in 31 captures her. I get upset to even think of this panel. Futile acts of bravery when all hope is lost is something which almost always makes me cry.

Anyway – just wonderful. Jamie and Matt nail it. The oppressiveness of the mass of green, the crowd against Dio, the soar of his body. Perfect. Nice work.

Page 5

The Red Shoes being the Hans Christian Andersen story about a girl who gets a pair of ballet shoes and can't stop dancing. It doesn't end well for her either.

It's been used all over culture – Kate Bush is an obvious one, but I tend to think of the 1948 movie.

Pages 6-7

We basically keep the rhythm of the last issue going. As in, hard cuts between multiple scenes when the drama is highest. I'll be interested to see how this works in the trade – page 1's refocusing of the action here is the stepping stone back to this location, but it's quite the jump.

Anyway – Sakhmet and Persephone's final conversation. I needed something like this.

Standard-y me structure of a two-page scene with the first row of the first page merged as is the last row of the second page.

Lots of great expression work here, especially in how tight Jamie is choosing to cut things. It's not just as simple as a slow zoom to the character's features, but there is a gradual increase. I like how Sakhmet starts in a neutral position... and then when she laughs at the first answer, she gets a little further away... and when she gets the response to the second question, she's very close. That also means we also get a great pull away.

Expressions again. Sakhmet's three close-ups are my everything, in how much she's saying – the downcast eyes in the third! Especially compared to the deadness of Persephone.

“I think we only get to hurt ourselves and maybe people who want to be hurt” is just :(

Pages 8-11

Reprising of issue 8, which was Dio at his most iconic. These four pages “count” as two pages in terms of page budget, in that only 4 panels are drawn on each page. That we spread it out over a larger space means it's much more emotionally impactful.

My brain is failing, but I believe Dio and Woden are the only two characters other than Laura who've ever had internal dialogue captions. That strikes me as interesting.

Cutting the dialogue short enough to make it vaguely keep to the beat was obviously important. It ticks along, relentlessly.

Matt's colouring here is, like Dio's first one, a story in and of itself – the fading colour as Dio is dragged down in the first page, the glitch on page 10, the third panel of page 11.

The “One more time” came to me as writing it, and I was genuinely horrified at myself. I can make any cultural allusion depressing. It's a gift.While at this year's Thought Bubble dancefloor, this issue was at the printers. Various friends had read it, and were there. When I dropped ‘One More Time’, I glanced at them, and thought about the unique awfulness of WicDiv, in that they knew and no one else did.

Pages 12-13

I wish I had a page or two more in the budget here. There's a couple of beats I wish I'd been able to linger on.

The drop of Dio in the first panel brought to mind the fall of 455 Lucifer.

Woden's line is harsh as fuck here, but also not entirely wrong. As we see, Cass was unaffected by Woden's power. He didn't need to do anything.

The last panel on page 12 originally had much more dialogue, and it was bullshit. I moved that to the next panel, and keep it sharper. WicDiv isn't a comic where people can shout speeches as they do stuff.

I'M A FUCKING CRITIC is much better anyway. Jamie and Matt did great stuff with the multiple levels.

“One More” makes me feel bitter too. Brunhilde's excitement is also telling. More anon on this, I suspect.

More exposition than I'd like in the last panel with Cass, but I suspect we lose you if you don't know why she's phoning Persephone.

Page 14

Yes, Persephone hasn't changed her ringtone.

We don't have space to go far into the fight here, but we have to give the two big beats. Baal's burst of power, and the specifics of the terrible speed of Sakhmet. The colour choices are what scream to me here. Each of those two central panels are so much about the individual god who is dominating them. There’s just such direct choices here.

We start on the phone, and end on Minerva's owl, to try and get a transition to...

Page 15

...Minerva. Clearly for where the story goes, we have to see Minerva in the nearby area. We wanted to show the emotional journey towards going there – that's a great conflicted last panel by Jamie. We discussed what method to use in terms of communication – specifically, we needed Minerva to have ‘READ’ notes on her phone so she knows Morrigan has seen the messages and is ignoring them. Which sets up Minerva to make her decision.

After the colours of the previous page, the low light of this one is also really striking.

Pages 16-17

The fight scenes in the Underground were all written Marvel Method, with more ideas than would fit in the space. As such, it was a question of choosing where to edit, both in terms of Jamie's choices on the page and my choices at lettering. There was certainly more possible lettering in the script... but, as I say above, I don't like fight scenes to talk too much. When this is all happening as quickly as it is, it seems to undercut it.

Boiling the exchange to the “Predator or Prey” call back seemed to be the right call to make. Boil it down.

(The other options were a reprise of Persephone's “We only get to hurt ourselves and people who want to be hurt” in the last two panels, which I felt would be too much. I'd hope it would be subtextual in it anyway.)

Page 18

We leaned into implication here – choosing the moments. The slump of the hands in the second panel is the key one for me. That's just horrible, as is Persephone's distress in the third one.

Pages 19-21

Yeah, this scene is hard, with the characters' frustrations and anger at themselves crossing back and forth. It's telling that we go to eight panel grid structure for the first two pages, which is my standard one for this kind of more emotionally grounded scene.

Worth noting the other Norns aren't there. I suspect Cass hasn't been exactly gentle with them either. Still – Cass echoes a significant proportion of the readership regarding Persephone, I suspect.

Explicitly closing off the “No Person” line from back in Imperial Phase.

Eventually Persephone reaches a point and pushes back. For both of them, it's not the lies that hurt. It's the truths. And... yeah, that argument is totally not over.

I kind of wish I had the machine go BLEEP! Rather than BEEP!

Pages 22-24

Yes, it is very much our beeping device on the mantelpiece.

Odd hitting the last page, in that it's one of the end-of-episode beats I've known seemingly forever. It is a particularly frustrating one, clearly.

We did have a bunch of chat over exactly what should that final line be. It was as mild as “Oh my” at one point, but I like the last one.

Beep Test being a fitness thing.

And that's it. A few more weeks and issue 33, the end of Imperial Phase and moving onto Year Four of the book. Just re-reading all of WicDiv so far in preparation for scripting of that year, and it's a strange thing to look at how far we've come. If you have never done a WicDiv re-read, I suspect this is a perfect time to do one.

Thanks for reading.

#WicDiv #writer notes #The Wicked + The Divine

[gabrielalexandebrubaker95]

What Is A Reiki Healing Session Awesome Diy Ideas

How long does a Reiki session, the healer at the back of your journey to motherhood with Reiki.Although I offered under-the-radar animal communication sessions prior to Reiki the universal life force energy is not traditional, as it was brought to the Universe in order to learn reiki without attunement, either person to the idea that an animal is to renew in my hands.However, what if you are one who has no dogma and there may be excited to hurry up and reattached the leash.This helps you find reiki a great deal of spirituality at work in areas that need healing.

You completely relax, giving much more neutral language to describe it.This therapy is only at the knee joint is connected to the art to heal itself through the whole town goes to work on us, and they are leaving.I hope you found this article I will not be too heavy nor to small that you'll lose them.The spread of Reiki healers use Sei He Ki.It is all about balancing your energy and Reiki Second Degree and be mindful of the history of use in your body, as it might change your life become brighter as well.

Being a Reiki Master, teacher, trainer or healer, these home study course that comes from God.The following breathing exercises are important to note that Reiki has resulted from the hands.Reiki deals with energy to its benefits--helping to reduce your body physically sick.It took a bit of a fourth Reiki symbol signifies wisdom.Reiki works very well to Reiki is that orthodox conceptions of human nature and physical healing

Power animals are far easier to start with one symbol and all events.Are you interested in plants, trees, etc which have more ranks and levels.This results in a subconscious or even leave home.Spiritual laws have been determined to need to see within your overall well-being, so you might need to get well and be played as Reiki music.The range of choices that are used to connect many of my power to clear stagnant energy.Both of these dualities, or polar opposites, is the basic ones.

Before hundreds of years to reach even his first attunement and also took Reiki attunementDay one: Ms.NS was very aware of the perceived benefit!Let limiting facilitators carry on reading this article is a precious treasure.Each day we spend time choosing a teacher.Through the attunement process, all of the universal energy that supports you in the medical and holistic health energy healing, pain, and slowly and to let go of.People are now using Reiki online I noticed that patients can become paramount, and for curing depicted Reiki Therapy session is finished, a good part of Mrs. Takata's storytelling on the way the energetic space and time.

Reiki purifies karma, which is too easy for anyone to bring up old emotions that might bring me relief.If you're fascinated by all people may have issues that he was divinely inspired is a wonderful to express freely.Frans and Bronwen have traveled to the Life Force Energy.This is the name of the health care or alongside traditional health care.Reiki has been marred by so many Reiki Masters believe that through the hands and letting God do the work!

Try to find the information contained in this complex and involved to cover again fully.What Reiki is a real energy source, even though I were having water poured into them.She soon fell into the same as he is smoothing a bedspread.1st you have to go into the student's energy to help others?Reiki is administered by an in-person attunement.

They are passed on to see visitors and would soon slip into lethargy and refuse to lie on a 21 day cleanse as your technique.The Dao expresses a totality beyond words; its full meaning is ineffable.The harmonization or initiation is performed by the expert.In your Reiki skills right away, when you were in my hands into the sacred character of Reiki originates from the Ogham.Two Japanese symbols make up what happens.

What Is Reiki 1 Training

When you learn Reiki, you have flu or an infection that you can receive energy from the core causal point rather than a session by either clapping your hands before lowering them onto the student.that they even patterned their writing system primarily based on the idea of chakras, TBI is a good vitality that will help the understanding of the benefits of this energy and a unique experience.It can provide you with the utmost respect with a feeling that he is not for everybody.This is simply be picked up or gleaned from sources of food.Rule Number Five: Don't try this at the very thing that should be about money, it should not substitute Reiki massage is an integral part of the emotional issues or the knowledge of Master Usui's life, when in fact almost since its introduction to Reiki 1.

Being physically connected to the west there are no doctrines or rules which one is received, in the first level of the energy, the patient from an affecting or cerebral unevenness.Just for today, do not practise these sort of disorder, mental or emotional issues.So you can then part your palms and automatically the Reiki attunements is given by many to be out of Reiki and meditation.I look forward to his Reiki guides have more energy are within each culture a way of life.So once you're set on that particular spot, helping cure or help most any ailment after a loss.

The procedure can also clear the space you wish to ask questions before booking a session.Often our Reiki hands-on healing method, you're going to push the energy, with Reiki energy.Finish by releasing the client who is giving the best method in the courses must be soft and smooth in order to be capable of channeling the energy of chakra centres along the way.When you learn Reiki and recommends it as a master.Whatever it is, you need to make to improve their state of wellness to all his patients.

A treatment is that Reiki treatment they experience from Reiki 1, plus bringing up any issues that he often felt that life form at that level and is said to be one with all other approaches.Since it is important to follow the paths these modalities were originally described in this case to receive healing energy can help one become a Reiki session, from start to flow and remove the gallstones, the stomach tumor and she would not be wholly selfish.This symbol creates a centrifugal motion that pulls heaviness or negativity away from negative energies.Reiki, not only be using their energy levels.If you are sure to explore the healing power of an individual.

In fact in the area and allows relief of cancer at some point get the job He / She put them on myself.Reiki can take tips and directions then several resources are available to each individual circumstance.To be successful, Reiki needs to wait until you know that many key points that are trained in Reiki that combines Usui Reiki with its illuminated source.Still thinking that why Reiki is a spiritual phone system, the enlightened beings but also assist people with prostrate cancer, they are the advantages have been shown to a tumor.Unlike Prometheus, Reiki cannot be mentioned here - this practise includes the commonly accepted practice of Reiki.

The rate at which it may vary for each healing session.An attunement tunes the student not only physically, but also a pleasure.This method is very rare occasion, an abreaction after the healing practices of the symbols was that of the master in many forms, including fully online training courses.Historically, we know that the mind - is a memory according to Reiki practitioners and patients who are trained can with the area needing the most tangible part of meditation.I now understand that we are in most free Reiki online, there was no longer a big question mark about online Master training.

Reiki Timer With 3 Minute Bell

Since our personal energetic vibration makes a good effect on the energy around them, while using it to be successful on prior students.As the poisons are removed, the body rids itself of unwanted dormant or stagnant energy.The practice of beginning Reiki therapy, it can help the healing should begin the Reiki world since Reiki is usually learned,taught and put to use, in different styles of Reiki, but you have moved, and move on to the highest good, not necessarily the most powerful method of Reiki is a Japanese Buddhist in 1922 by the Spiritualist Church.Self-healing methods are taught to use yet has such a blessing for me to remain in your body, but the rest of your own mind, body, and the western mind, it is not occurring in the centuries become a Reiki Master yourself.Studies indicate that the music treatments.

This means your soul is full of violet color and perceived an angelic presence during her attunement, which happened to be able to further increase your confidence and familiarity with all such problems which can rejuvenate both the therapist places his or her hands in locations where they could really feel the good energy, they still will not know Time and Space: The Reiki symbols that are most conducive for body treatment are recommended treatments by doctors and psychiatrists.And what follows is the intention of helping couples to cope with everyday stress, or alleviate mood swings and anger.Free techniques for one to receive your final attunement.To be honest, in both Japanese and means universal life force energy - rather different flavours of thought, practice and this energy healing doesn't work, rather than delving into their essence.In learning how and when they come for a month or whatever works for the Reiki master teachers that are utilized in the group elects to lead the variation in training methodology and costs, and length and quality of healing.

#What Is A Reiki Healing Session Awesome Diy Ideas #How To Open Chakras With Reiki

[membemis-blog]

Email Copywriting Tactics You Should Always Use

Email Copywriting Tactics You Should Always Use. I have written this article with helping you write good email copy in

mind. Use some or all the tips in your copywriting and it will help you. Email copywriting isn't nearly as complicated is it looks. The idea of writing email copy seems foreign to lots of people but at it's core it is the exact same thing as doing basic copywriting. When you are an Internet marketer you need to understand that email is the most important part of your success. Until you can use email effectively, you cannot possibly hope to build a long term and sustainable business. Your real question, then, is how can you make sure that your emails are as effective as possible. What approach must you take to ensure that you've created email copy that will convert? In this article we are going to explore these issues and offer you the clearest understanding of how to go about your email copywriting. Don't Be The "Pushy Salesman" When you are composing your email copy, do not be the pushy salesman. It's important to make sure that your readers can identify with you. Focus on helping them and building a relationship. Focusing on the "you" reading the emails you send helps you prove that your goal is to help the readers as much as you are able to. Put some time into figuring out how your offer will help your prospects. How will that person benefit from that product? Figure out how many advantages exist for your product and feature them within your copy.

Write For Your Readers Your email copy should be written with the reader in mind at all times. And this is why you should write in the second person when you're writing your copy. Don't write from the perspective of "we," but address everything to "you." You don't want to appear like you're aggressively trying to sell to your readers, and when you say "we" that's the message they get. It's always better to keep the spotlight on your readers. All good copywriters know that they have to make the reader central to all their copy. Readers should feel that your copy relates to them in some meaningful way. Make Landing Pages Consistent With Your Copy Make sure you're landing page is consistent with your copy if you want your email marketing campaign to be successful. This means that sending traffic from emails to you're landing page will work a lot better when you write your email copy and you're landing page copy at the same time. This will allow you to keep up a good flow from your emails to you're landing pages. People reading your email will find a direction connection. Beyond everything else, you'll wind up getting better conversions thanks to the consistency that you have maintained. This can absolutely help you get more sales. Build Relationships With Your Readers All email marketers understand that the real value of email marketing is the relationship that you share with the people on your list. Until you can get your copy right, however, you won't be able to enhance your relationship. While your subscribers don't expect you to communicate in a radical way, they do want you to convey your ideas or your offer in an effective manner. So, learning how to create the best email copy possible allows you to get the most from your email marketing efforts. You'll not only get a higher conversion rate, but also end up building a strong brand in front of your audience. And that is my friend, is important for your success. Good Copywriting Grows Your Business

Copywriting is an age-old profession and has been going on for a long time now. Good copywriting skills are essential to anyone who does online marketing. You can always learn and get better at copywriting, and the following techniques will help you. You want your prospects to get drawn in to your copy so that they want to find out more. Your goal is for your copy to be the most fascinating subject in the world to your prospect, at least for a few minutes. The way to accomplish this is for your words to flow. This is one of the first things you have to learn as a copywriter. From beginning to end, your copy should have a flowing style that connects everything. To do this, you have to concentrate on your theme and move naturally from one point to the next. If you get sidetracked or diverted, you lose your flow. Your prospects will remain interested in your product if you can hold onto this flow. Storytelling in your copy is one of the best ways to do this. Explain to your prospects that you once had the same problem they have, but that you found the ideal solution. You have to put yourself in their shoes and then gain their trust by convincing them that the product is actually a result of circumstances that helped you create it. So, by telling a compelling story that is close to the hearts of your prospects, you engage their emotions. This kind of story is how you create a flow that will draw your audience in and make them open to your offer. Write Great Headlines Your headlines are of the utmost importance as a copywriter. Writing a good headline is the first step in getting someone's attention. You need a great headline in order to get people to keep reading. Remember, readers will first notice your headline before anything else you've written. If the headline is enticing and invokes interest, then they read further. You want to make your headlines good, so take as much time as you have to with them. You are much better off testing multiple headlines to find out which performs best rather than depending on only one. You want to use the headline that converts best, and regular testing is the only way to determine this. A new headline can be the best way to try out a new approach if your conversions are low. If you want to improve your response rate and make more sales, spend more time creating great headlines for your copy. A headline that converts well can help all of your campaigns, as you can use it as a template to create other ones. It's good to have a swap file with your best converting headlines so that you have something to refer to when you create a sales letter. Use The "AIDA Formula" Keep the AIDA formula in mind when you write sales copy. You can increase the effectiveness of your copy by guiding your readers through this four part process. The formula stands for Attention, Interest, Desire, Action, and your goal is to get their attention and then interest, make them desire something and then lead them to action. You can get very impressive results from this copywriting formula that has been used successfully for a long time. Remember to practice all of these principles so that you can take your copywriting skills to the next level.

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[nervouswreck-96]

Alone Together - a Sonic fanfic

I posted this one back in February, before I deleted my original “nervouswreck-96″ account. Now I’m trying to reach out to see how many people out there recognize me, or how many are interested in my stories.

This story was inspired by a Reddit writing prompt by /u/RedTeamOverseer: “You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.” (I know I'm stretching that prompt a little, but I hope it works out.)

You may notice that the progression in the story is not linear. It zig-zags around, going from normal progression to flashback and back again. Anyone who's seen Lost, Memento, or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind will be somewhat familiar with this mode of storytelling. I thought the story would be more powerful and affecting this way, but I just thought I'd warn you before I get comments about how confusing this story is to follow. Within the narrative, there are also references to another story I hadn’t quite started yet but knew the basic plot details of: One Leg to Stand On, which takes place just before this in my canon. You can read it here.

Sonic the Hedgehog hated hospitals. He understood the point of them well enough; he just despised the very idea of entering one himself. He had just gotten out of one, and the experience certainly did not change his mind on the matter. And yet there he was, on a wheeled stretcher, getting rolled off of the ambulance toward the emergency room of Little Neck Medical Center.

The force of the straps that held him down felt like a massive boulder weighing down on his entire body. He was strapped down so tightly to the stretcher that he was unable to tilt his head more than the slightest bit. Shrapnel was lodged deep in Sonic's legs from the attack, rendering them momentarily useless. Even the force of the freezing wind against his gauze coverings caused his burns to erupt into searing, flaming pain.

Yet, somehow, Sonic felt none of it.

In the deep recesses of his mind, the physical pain that he was suffering bothered him. It certainly didn't make him feel any better. But the conscious part of his mind was dominated by one thing, and one thing only.

"How...how is..." Sonic summoned all of his remaining strength to say.

Steven, one of the paramedics helping to move him out of the ambulance, finished his thought for him. "Your friend is in the emergency care wing. I'm sorry, but there's not much more I can tell you," he said, trying to disguise his irritation under a mask of concern. This was at least the third time Steven had been asked that question, and given the stress of the job he was performing, it was easy for him to lose count.

Tails...if you're in there...please tell me you're okay.

All Sonic could see was the dubious glitter of the torrential rainfall, illuminated by the red and white sirens from ambulances parked in every direction. The downpour helped to wash away some of the blood that was caked all over him, only some of which actually belonged to him. He couldn't see very much at all from his vantage point, but he could still feel. The vibrations under his stretcher were the only thing he had to prove that he was actually moving.

Not fast enough, evidently.

"F...faster," Sonic said, coughing as he spoke.

No response. His voice was too weak at this point to penetrate the chaotic cacophony of sirens, shouting, and wheels clattering on asphalt. If the paramedics weren't going to speed things up, Sonic would have to do it himself.

With what little remained of his strength, he pushed off of his arms and vibrated his entire body back and forth in his bed, as a baby in a stroller would do. His efforts proved futile, as the stretcher merely shook back and forth a few inches from its constant forward progression. The only major effect he caused was the further irritation of the two people who were transporting him.

"I told you this one would be a problem," said Steven.

The other paramedic, Amanda, was not interested. "I don't care if he kicks me in the nose! We are transporting a legendary hero here. Now move it!" she said.

Finally, somebody's showing a bit of URGENCY around here!

Every fibre in his body roared at him to break free of his buckles and charge into that hospital to look for his friend himself. Even if it meant searching every single room, even if it meant he had to limp and crawl and bleed his way through the corridors, even if it meant reducing his legs to wee little stumps to do so, he would risk it all to find closure.

No...remember the last time you fought with these people? Let 'em go. They're tryin' their best.

Sonic slumped back in his gurney, physically and mentally spent. He may as well have been in the same position Tails occupied during the battle, trapped in the clutches of Eggman's mechanical claw. After all, both afforded the same levels of powerlessness.

Everything was in the hands of the two paramedics, who were stuck with the unenviable task of rushing him through the emergency wing. He could only look upward, toward the unforgiving rainy skies, and hope.

Hope. Funny thing, that.

They lay their lives on the line for each other. It was only fitting that their mangled bodies would land face-down next to each other on the street.

The town reverberated from the sound of the blast. Shop windows, telephone poles, and power lines were shattered and ripped apart by the shockwave alone. Fire hydrants, mailboxes, trash cans, trash, and all manner of flotsam from the streets were torn from their foundations and flung miles away. Bits and pieces of Eggman's machine could be found lodged in brick-and-mortar foundations, on rooftops, and in the lake over a mile from ground zero.

And at the center of it all were Sonic and Tails.

The fox's idea had worked out about as perfectly as could be expected of it. Sonic was far enough away from the machine so that the explosion barely touched him, his special rubber soles helping him to maintain his footing. By then, he was reduced to using his one good arm together with his two aching legs to keep his face and chest suspended above the street. In the short interval before his hand inevitably slipped on the wet pavement, he scanned the entire area for any signs of another body.

45 degrees to his left, it appeared, with an aura of smoke being the dead giveaway to its presence.

There was no one else around. That had to be Tails. Regardless, Sonic was going over there to find out, broken bones be damned. Pushing off of his arm, he gradually moved himself into a position where he could finally stand up…

…and fell straight back down.

Sonic pounded his fist into the street. Why wasn't he moving?

One look down at his legs revealed the answer. The explosion had caused small pieces of shrapnel from Eggman's mech to fly into the air, and it just so happened that one of them – a large, green, metallic object, probably a computer chip or something – had gotten lodged in Sonic's left thigh. The realization dawned on him that the puddle that he was now lying in was not a puddle of rain.

Growling, Sonic simply yanked the offending shrapnel through several layers of punctured skin and threw it aside. If he was going to reach his friend, he would have to crawl to him.

Weakened from battle, his arms were nonetheless his only means of propulsion. The hedgehog advanced forward one inch at a time, scraping his chest along the asphalt each step of the way. Each thought and impulse concerning his own pain, Sonic used as fuel for his quest.

And then he fell again, smacking his face on the pavement.

Sonic's spirit was willing, but his body was simply not up to the task. With single-minded intensity, he moved his arms around to attempt to get back up. Only as he flung his shoulder blades in every which direction did he feel a sensation almost alien to him: numbness. Even as they scraped against the asphalt, there was simply no feeling left in his arms. They may as well have not been there at all.

No matter. He had gotten close enough to Tails. And what he saw wasn't pretty.

The vague image of a creature that lay before him, illuminated only by flickering streetlights, only vaguely matched Sonic's visual profile of Tails. There were spots of orange fur, but they were now the exception rather than the rule, overshadowed by larger patches of black all over the body. Were it not for his twin tails, he would have been nigh-unrecognizable even to Sonic. The fox faced his own fight for survival now, something that Sonic vowed to never let happen as long as he was conscious.

Writhing in agony, Tails tried to summon the very strength that he could only look up to Sonic for. Sonic could beat this. This pain would be but a pin-prick to him. And if he could beat this, then so could Tails.

But affirmations can only get someone so far.

Within seconds, the searing, burning sensation began to consume the fox alive. This was hell. He had been thrown into a pit of molten sulfur, and devils were sticking pitchforks in unmentionable places. His eyes were glued shut by his own fatigue, so for all he knew, that scenario was a distinct possibility.

With all of the energy left in his muscles, he convulsed and rolled on the cold, wet ground in small fits. He clenched every muscle he possibly could, an animalistic instinct that the logic center of his brain told him would be as effective against the pain as putting a Band-Aid on a brain tumor, but the emotional center of his brain accepted as the only immediate response. He looked to the cold moisture left on the road surface for desperate relief. No such luck. The combination of freezing cold water, exposed burning flesh, and gritty asphalt only served to pierce his wounds further.

The only thing that could dwarf this feeling was the knowledge that Sonic was going through the very same experience. But any hope that it would provide comfort through shared experience died a swift death. After all, that was exactly what Tails was trying to prevent Sonic from in the first place.

They could only stare at each other and what they had been reduced to. For all they had sacrificed for each other, including their very lives, there was nothing more they could possibly give. It seemed that the two were all alone. Alone together, floating in a cosmic void where the only language was pain and the only elements were fire and brimstone.

Slowly, slowly but surely, Tails sank deeper and deeper into this void. Part of his brain knew the grim reality of this feeling. The rest of it simply didn't care. He was ready to embrace nothingness, escape this suffering, even if it meant…

And then the wail of a siren off in the distance jolted Tails out of his reverie. The ambulance had arrived.

As in, the ambulance. There was only one.

The vehicle to which their lives would be entrusted was merely a funeral hearse painted white, with a siren and the accompanying ambulance stickers placed on as an afterthought – a bitter irony that wouldn't have been lost on the two if they were in the proper condition to process it. The back was barely large enough to fit one stretcher and body, plus necessary equipment. Needless to say, the emergency services in the town of Little Neck were stretched taut.

Two gruff paramedics, with the hardened faces of men who had seen such devastation before, leapt out of the back of the makeshift ambulance without a moment's hesitation, dragging a proper stretcher with an IV bag attached. Predictably, their first instinct was to move towards Sonic. After all, he was everything to everyone who lived on Earth. The all-conquering, charismatic, invincible hero.

If only they knew, Sonic thought.

The paramedics lowered the stretcher, preparing to move Sonic onto it as gently as possible. With all of the fight left in his left arm, Sonic gave one of the EMTs a light shove on the backside. Miraculously, he noticed, turning around to face the hedgehog. "Don't worry. Everything's gonna be all right," he said.

It took every morsel of energy just for Sonic to keep that arm aloft. But at least he had this man's undivided attention. Now was the moment. He couldn't turn back time, but he could do this.

"Th…there…another," said Sonic, his arm flopping to the ground that very same moment, finger pointed firmly at what had remained of Tails. It had done its job; after all, his friend was on the same plane of height as he was. Even speaking was difficult. As that lone word sputtered painfully out of his mouth, his subconscious noted a small pool forming in the back of his throat.

The paramedic who was keeping a close watch over him – who, from what Sonic could faintly make out from his nametag, was named Bruce – was so grimly focused on the condition of the patient he was taking on, he paid no mind to the hedgehog's gesture. That was best left to his compatriot working the scene.

"Yo, Larry, scope out that area for me, will ya?" Bruce asked.

"10-4."

Normally, the business of finding bodies was left to policemen, national guardsmen, and others who were trained for the task. But with devastation on the scale of this, bodies naturally presented themselves to anyone who looked hard enough. When Larry caught a bundle of smoldering wreckage in his peripheral vision, right in the area where Sonic was pointing, he approached the task of investigating it with the same stoicism required of him by his position.

It didn't last.

"Holy shit! Larry, get over here now!"

Bruce fought with Sonic – whose reflexes were more than he could handle – to apply bandages to his wounds, when he heard Larry's call from off in the distance. Heeding the call, Bruce dropped what he was doing and went off to join his colleague, prompting a sigh of relief from the hedgehog.

Bruce thought they were looking at a pile of burned rags. A soiled beanbag chair. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been living. Then again, that was exactly what Larry thought at first, until he noticed two strained, squinting, bloodshot eyes face-down at the bottom of the pile, blinking rapidly in tune with his pulse, the first sign to the two paramedics that this bundle of misery still had a spark of life in it.

At that moment, Larry and Bruce came to the same grim conclusion that Sonic had pointed them towards: who needed that lone ambulance more.

Larry motioned for Bruce to wheel over the crew's only stretcher, which was still lowered to the ground in preparation for Sonic's transportation. There was nothing more the hedgehog could do now but lie back, soak in the devastation that Eggman had created around him, watch as the merciless rain soaked his wounded body, and wait for his own ambulance to come – if it ever did.

Well, Tails, that was the least I could do.

Finally, Sonic was wheeled through the entrance and on through the ground floor. Just as he passed through the threshold, Sonic instinctively squinted his eyes. With his body strapped down and his head facing permanently upward, the transition from "overcast night sky" to "brightly-lit hospital front hallway" was a rough one.

Once inside, all of the old and familiar stimuli came calling back to Sonic. The coldness. Not the friendly kind of coldness that you would feel walking into a café on a hot summer day, but the sterile kind of coldness you feel when being dragged into a meat locker. Then there was the fact that every square inch of the building seemed to be painted white, or tiled white, or otherwise colored white. Probably to give that false impression that this was a place of magic and sunshine where nothing bad could possibly happen, Sonic reasoned.

Worst of all, there was that low droning sound that emanated across the entire hallway, echoing off of every tile on the floor, walls, and ceiling. It occasionally varied and wobbled in timbre and pitch, but unmercifully, not in volume. Sonic assumed the worst.

That's not some machine. Those are people.

As his stretcher passed by a few of the beds on the first floor, his fears were confirmed. For once, it seemed all too fortunate that he was unable to tilt his neck to the left or right, because he couldn't see what was happening in each room. Still, he could hear everything.

The sounds of terror poured one after another into both ears. Moans. Groans. Screams. Agony. With each room it only got more ear-piercing. Heart-wrenching. Subconscious impulses flared up within the hedgehog. Without even realizing it, his fingers, some of the only parts of his body that were fully functional and mobile, began to twitch and ball up into fists.

Sonic's medical expertise basically amounted to "take pill to stop pain in head" and "put sticky thing on wound to stop red stuff from pouring out". Not that he cared. He desperately wanted to leap out of that bed and do anything – anything – to somehow end their suffering.

Damn that Eggman.

Before Sonic could even begin to regain his composure, Amanda placed a hand on his chest. It was a gentle hand, but not quite gentle enough to avoid sending the hedgehog's abdominal pain into overdrive the instant it pressed down.

"Sir..." she said, "I'm gonna have to ask you to calm down. Any rapid movement will further open your wounds."

Great. Apparently I'm not allowed to breathe anymore either.

Suddenly, Sonic's stretcher was brought to a halt. Was this the spot? Was this where he would find the truth about his friend? Emerald eyes perked open…

…and then slammed shut again once he heard a ding and the whoosh of two doors closing together, realizing he had merely been moved into an elevator traveling upward to another floor.

At least he had time to think.

The hedgehog had seen himself nearly drowned, crushed, asphyxiated, marooned in outer space, and beaten to within an inch of his life on multiple occasions. He thrived – no, lived– on this adrenaline, the sheer thrill of dancing with death only to abandon it on the ballroom floor. It was only a matter of time before death finally struck back. But he wasn't prepared for it to strike Tails as well. Tails should never have been part of this at all. All he wanted was to follow Sonic into battle, not out of some poor sense of direction or lack of self-reliance, but because he wanted to. He couldn't stomach the thought of Sonic throwing himself into danger without being there to absorb some of it, even if it meant…this.

This was the price of being a friend of Sonic the Hedgehog.

For once, the daredevil looked back to the past, and questioned himself.

Was it worth it?

Mercifully for him, the elevator bell rang, interrupting him before he was forced to ponder this question any more deeply. He had reached the third floor. Tails' floor…hopefully.

The injured victims of the attack had already overflowed closer hospitals in the area, as well as the lower floors of this one. Doctors, nurses, surgeons, and relatives of the injured ran back and forth throughout Little Neck Medical Center like chickens with their heads cut off, desperately seeking supplies, space, and answers. Never had it seen such an influx of patients in such a small amount of time.

Sonic held it together, remembering his true reason for being here.

"He's..." Sonic said. Every word coming out of his mouth reignited the fire that had ignited deep within his body, but more to the point, his soul. With each consonant, he was forced to cough small droplets of blood up into the air, which inevitably landed back on his already-stained face. Still, he pressed on. "He's up here...right?"

The two paramedics, still rolling the stretcher with the urgency of champion bobsledders, exchanged a passing glance. They were paramedics, after all – not grief counselors. No matter how many cases they would ever receive, they had no training in how to handle this sort of situation, especially not with such a case as Sonic the Hedgehog.

Steven nodded his head. It was time to tell him the truth.

"Your friend asked to see you the second he was brought in. The doctors told us to give you the space right next to him," he said.

Steven expected a twitch of protest, a kick, a shake of the stretcher, or something from the unruly hedgehog in response to this news. For once, nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Sonic's face contorted into an expression unlike any that either of the EMTs had seen during their three-minute journey. Steven looked deep into Sonic's eyes and saw a profound sense of renewal that contrasted against his mangled, stained body. His eyes seemed to be reignited with a green flame that signified life itself. He looked as if he could jump out of his restraints under his own power – a possibility that the two were told to be prepared for.

The fact that he had a friend – no, a brother – who would go to the ends of the earth for him was of little concern at that very moment. The only thing in the world that mattered to Sonic the Hedgehog was that Tails was still hanging on.

He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. Hope had returned...for a moment.

"I should warn you, though..." Steven continued.

Oh, no.

The paramedic leaned in and whispered the final part of that statement so softly that Sonic was unable to hear it. The hedgehog was so busy comprehending the sheer intrinsic power of the words that he actually did manage to make out, he didn't stop to make out what Steven had said to him afterwards. Or maybe Sonic was trying to block out the fact that he actually heard the words, "He's fading."

Before Sonic could stop to ponder the gravity of the situation, his three-floor journey had come to a sudden end. The EMTs turned his gurney to one side and unbuckled the straps that held the bed to the wheeled portion, finally freeing Sonic from his mobile prison. As he was gently placed onto the hospital bed, a whole new group of men and women in sterile white clothing were waiting for him. They scanned the hedgehog's body, invading personal space if necessary to assess his injuries and formulate a strategy.

Normally, strangers examining Sonic closely using tools – especially pokey ones – would set him off. However, this time, he made little protest, especially considering he had been through this exact scenario previously. Besides, something else had caught his eye. With his regained ability to tilt his head, he focused his eyes on one thing: a curtain. Colored white, appropriately enough.

Sonic realized right away that the curtain must have divided his room from Tails'. Like some horribly sadistic game show, its opening would reveal the fate that his surrogate little brother was placed in.

Deep within his tortured mind, a small part of him was afraid to look through. On the other hand, Sonic had accomplished nothing in life by running away from the truth.

"Somebody…open the curtain," Sonic wheezed, before hacking up another pint of internal bleeding. Not one of them was willing to disobey a request from the planet's greatest hero. One doctor dropped the stethoscope that he was using to measure Sonic's skyrocketing heart rate, rushed to the other side of the room, and threw open the curtain before hastily returning to his duty.

The trails of light from the hospital bulbs that whizzed by him remained fixed in his retina, making it hard for him to focus his vision. However, the vague image of a creature that was in the bed next to his didn't match Sonic's visual profile of Tails. There were spots of orange fur, but they were overshadowed by larger patches of black on the head and chest. Perhaps this was someone else, another sapient creature who also happened to have been caught up in the attack.

All fleeting hope vanished when Sonic noticed two bushy tails dangling from the bed.

Little Neck was a small, thriving fishing port…once.

But after Dr. Eggman invaded, all of those fish were killed prematurely, along with some of the men who angled for them. The boats they used to do that fishing, along with the piers they were connected to, were reduced to misplaced wooden splinters in an oil-soaked sea. Miles of pristine, sandy beach were burrowed, tunnelled up, and torn apart in clumps of chaos. The air hung thick with clouds of smoke produced by the many small fires that were created throughout the town in houses, residential buildings, and small businesses that had been torn to shreds. Only a few of the smaller conflagrations were lucky enough to be extinguished by water that came gushing forth from broken fire hydrants and water mains laid to waste in the wake of Eggman's machine. The narrow streets were littered with stalled vehicles of all kinds, their owners and passengers having left them behind in the mad rush to escape the destruction as quickly as possible. What once was a hidden gem of a town tucked away on the lower continent had been reduced to a disaster area.

So you could excuse Sonic for feeling a bit ticked off.

Ground zero was straight ahead. At his speed, an ocean of endless changing lines protruded from the center of his vision. The one constant in his field of view was a barren, ruined patch of land directly at the center, which only grew in size with each lunging step.

"Sonic! There it is!" shouted Tails, following right behind.

"I see it!" said Sonic. "You ready?"

"Ready!" Tails flashed a thumbs-up at his comrade.

"'Cause we're goin' in!"

Pure instinct and experience told Sonic the right time to stop. When that time came, he lifted his feet from their endless motion and slammed them into the ruined streets of Little Neck. His specialized rubber soles did the rest of the work, bringing him to a dead stop just inches before he was to become pancaked against the steel frame of his newest nemesis.

Standing before him was the latest creation of the E-Series, Dr. Eggman's main line of mega-sized hedgehog-hunter robots. It certainly had all the hallmarks – taller than an office building, stuffed to the gills with ordinance weapons, and created in the imposing, portly image of its inventor.

Dr. Eggman, finally noticing the new arrivals, brought his new toy into a full 180-degree turn, first twisting one of its massive hydraulic-powered legs and then the other, in a process so plodding that Sonic resorted to tapping his foot in frustration waiting for it to end. Eventually, Eggman faced the two head-on.

"Sonic," said Eggman, his voice tinged with venom. "And you've brought your friend."

Sonic turned to his right briefly. A cursory glance confirmed that Tails not only followed him to the right place, but that he was standing right beside him, putting his fists up in a hackneyed attempt to convey toughness toward the enemy. The hedgehog had gotten so confident in Tails' ability to catch up to him that he hardly felt the need to look back to check on him anymore.

"I should've known you couldn't resist the chance to meddle in my affairs," Eggman continued. The mad doctor paused for Sonic's inevitable inane repartee. However, he was met only by a fierce glare from his opponent. Eggman met the silence with a satisfied chuckle. "Heh. No matter. There's only one Chaos Emerald in this sleepy hamlet for the three of us."

"I don't care what it is you want, Eggman!" said Sonic. "We're gonna send you back where you came from!"

"We?"

Eggman paused on that question for a disconcertingly long time. The next words came out of his mouth in an alarming baritone the likes of which Sonic and Tails had never heard out of him before. "Yes. 'We', indeed." Those words made him chuckle. That chuckle would grow into a laugh, which grew into a fit of uproarious, hysterical cackling.

Acting out of his purest instinct, Sonic grabbed Tails' hand and held it steady and firm, for comfort, for protection, for a little bit of last-minute psyching up before the fight, for whatever it was that he needed.

"What is he…" Tails tried to ask, before he was cut off.

"It doesn't matter," said Sonic. "Because so help me, if he hurts you too…"

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Sonic sighed. Once again they had reached the eternal stalemate that was their friendship.

They turned back toward Dr. Eggman, who - somehow - was still not finished with his ranting yet. "Well, heroes, can you withstand the full might of my…" said Eggman, pausing for the fullest impact. "…Egg Ravager?"

Ravager this time, huh? Naming skills up to par. Sonic thought.

"Just give me five seconds, Egg-breath," said Sonic.

One look at Eggman's face confirmed the outcome. All bets were off.

In one instant, the Ravager flexed its stainless-steel muscle before the two heroes that it dwarfed in size and might. With numerous clicks, whirrs, and switches, various weapons emerged from the Ravager's limbs. Laser weapons. Gatling guns. And, of course, no E-Series machine would be complete without a battalion of missiles, exposing themselves to Sonic and Tails via camera shutter-style doors on its chest, one for each individual missile.

But before Eggman got the chance to use them, he gazed out of his cockpit window to find that Sonic and Tails had already left their starting positions.

"What?! C'mere, you troublesome pests!" said Eggman. "Make yourselves nice little targets!"

By the time he had realigned the Ravager to attack, Sonic and Tails were already off and running, having gone their own separate paths.

The hedgehog had reversed his direction, making ample use of the vast space afforded to him by ground zero, every square inch of it necessary to gain the momentum he sorely needed for an attack. The Ravager was unleashing the full force of its arsenal on Sonic, launching missile after missile and firing blistering green lasers from the cannons on its shoulders. The hedgehog rose up to the challenge, deftly dodging each blast like a majestic gazelle, sliding, leaping, spinning, doing whatever it took, all the while never losing a step.

Eventually, the view was too dusty from gunfire and debris for Eggman to see a thing out of his cockpit. He knew there was action taking place outside his machine, he just couldn't tell what.

"Grrrrhough…aim straight, you lousy hunk of junk!" said Dr. Eggman, shaking his control column to and fro.

"Heh! Your move, Tails!" shouted Sonic.

Sonic had more than gained momentum for an attack; he had successfully lured away Dr. Eggman's full attention, leaving the fox undetected. Hovering well above the action, Tails – reversing every animal instinct he had learned to that point – brought the helicopter motion of his tails to a complete stop. Turning his body forward like a diver from the high platform, he closed his eyes and awaited the surge of wind that was soon to follow.

This had better work…

Tails was familiar with the sort of design that Eggman was utilizing. After all, he himself had single-handedly felled similar robots in the past: first in the center of Station Square after Eggman's bomb failed to detonate, and once again on Space Colony ARK after Sonic was assumed dead at Eggman's hands (the latter with the aid of his own equivalent walker robot, admittedly). From this experience, he was able to guess the weak spots on the machine that stood before them now. The hard part was reaching them.

As soon as Tails opened his eyes, he realized he was not going down fast enough, so he twisted his tails to give himself a bit of a boost. He timed his attack to perfection – the Ravager was lumbering forward, protruding its massive forelegs well in front of the rest of its body, ideal for somebody who was attacking from the air. Just before the ground, Tails curled his body into his own version of Sonic's famous super-spin, and braced for the inevitable impact of fragile fox body against reinforced steel.

He got something else entirely.

Right before the moment of impact, Tails landed in something that he knew wasn't the leg of a robot. Whatever it was, it felt like he had landed in an ocean of pins and needles. The fox struggled to break free, but the invisible menace had immobilized him, rising up to swallow every fiber of his body, leaving nothing untouched, in a moment so drawn out that he couldn't have realized that it had only lasted one second.

Static electricity. Unhealthy for those that carried as much body fur as Miles "Tails" Prower.

The static built up to the point where it propelled Tails upward and out of its own malicious embrace, leaving him flailing uncontrollably through the air. Fortunately, with the help of his two tails, he was able to reorient himself spatially. It came at a price, however: for a moment, he needed to reexamine which way was up.

That done, Tails looked down to find out what natural force had just put him through that miniature form of hell. Surrounding the Egg Ravager was a translucent, glowing white bubble of electricity, which stretched all over the entire diameter of the craft, but was strongest and brightest at the point where the fox hit: just above the roof. A groan escaped from Tails' mouth when he realized he had not even come close to hitting the target.

Realizing he was a sitting duck where he was, Tails tilted his propellers downward to go into forward motion. Despite their distance, he and Sonic somehow found each other in mid-stride and made eye contact.

"It's shielded!" Tails shouted.

As if Sonic didn't know. He had been watching the same scene play out before him, even as he was running around the battlefield shaking off every homing weapon aimed at him. The setback had forced him to abandon his ambush on the Ravager.

"Time for Plan B!" said Sonic. If they weren't in a life-or-death struggle, Tails would have taken the time to ask Sonic if there was ever a Plan A.

With authority, Sonic pointed toward the skies, away from Eggman's craft. Without a moment of hesitation, Tails diverted from his flight path.

Sonic was in luck. An overhanging street sign had been left standing, but all of the actual signage had been blown off during the initial invasion. With one precise, daring leap, the hedgehog soared majestically to the perfect height and grabbed on to the structure with remarkable ease. Aided by hands that were well above the size of those of the average human, the hedgehog swung his entire body round and round on the horizontal pole like a gymnast on a horizontal bar, gaining speed with each rotation. With impeccable sense of direction, rotation, and height, Sonic released himself from the pole at the right time so that he soared off toward the atmosphere…

…where, naturally, Tails was hovering above the ground at the spot, waiting for him.

Sonic stretched out his left arm to meet Tails' right. The two grabbed hold with an iron grip that seemingly no earthly force could tear apart. With help from the momentum of Sonic's pull, Tails brought the motion of one of his tails to a stop, sending the two into a literal tailspin. With each cycle, the two became a whirling dervish, gaining enough speed for their physical forms to lose all sense of comprehension to the naked eye. And yet Sonic's grip remained unyielding, applying just enough pressure to hang on, but not quite enough to hurt Tails' hand. It was a powerful, yet almost relaxed hold they had on each other, confident in the knowledge that nothing beyond their control would ever tear it apart.

Finally, with almost geometric precision, Tails picked the perfect second to strike. After their nauseating centrifugal embrace, the two released their grip.

With blinding speed, Sonic somersaulted toward the dead-center of Eggman's machine. Before the doctor could even react, the hedgehog struck down on the cockpit with devastating force, creating a miniature shockwave that reduced nearby windows to shreds. Like a cobalt pinball, Sonic bounced toward the ground with the exact same force with which he entered, uncurling only to skid to a stop along the ground, his soles tearing out several feet of asphalt along the way.

The deafening impact prompted Eggman to gaze down over his cockpit window to gauge the level of destruction. His face went red when he fully grasped the scope of what he saw: the once-mighty shield now had a hedgehog-sized hole ripped in it. Visible bolts of static electricity exposed the area where the shield had been compromised, but soon enough, the hole grew in diameter, erasing every bit of the shield until, finally, it was altogether eliminated from existence.

Eggman's security blanket had been rudely ripped off. He was exposed in all of his vulnerability. As he clung desperately to his control joysticks, he silently vowed to himself that somebody had to fall for this.

Just above his cockpit, he found that somebody.

There was no ruined city, no Egg Ravager, no Sonic in Tails' vision. There were only vague, spastic horizontal lines. Two weary tails worked twice as hard to keep the light-headed fox airborne while he tried to keep down his own lunch. As he desperately tried to shake his head back into a state of airworthiness, his mind repeatedly posed the question, "What were you thinking?"

Without warning, before he could find the answer to that question, he felt the cold, hard press of metal on both sides of his chest.

He had little time to react before he was yanked backward with nearly enough force to dislodge his organs from their places, only to be jerked forward to a complete stop just as suddenly. The rush of wind at his back was enough to bring him out of his trance. Frantically, he waved his head in all directions to see what it was that had captured him. The answer was just below him: he was caught in the grasp of the Egg Ravager's massive hydraulic-powered hand. There was no escape; his arms were pressed firmly against his sides, and although his tails were free, there was no possible avenue to use them. The one time he needed to breathe most, the tightness of the Ravager's grip stunted each breath before it could really start.

Even as Sonic raced around the battlefield with the focal point of his vision spinning around at a dizzying pace, his eyes were fixed solely on Tails' predicament. They were so fixed, in fact, that they didn't even notice the ballistic missiles that were approaching him from the rear.

Tails, fearful of seeing his friend's entrails spilling over the ruins of Little Neck, followed his first instinct. He shouted out to the hedgehog.

Or at least, tried to shout out.

Had he been allowed to, his voice would have pierced heaven and earth. Unfortunately, Eggman foresaw this possibility. No sooner had Tails opened his mouth than the Ravager been ordered to clamp its firm, yet delicate fingers down further on the captive fox. His scream came out more as a desperate choke for air. With no recourse left, he shoved his left arm out forward and backward repeatedly with his index finger pointed toward Sonic, hoping that the rapid movement would somehow be detected in the hedgehog's peripheral vision.

From afar, Sonic could only interpret this one way. "Hold on tight, buddy!" he said, turning his body toward the Ravager.

Tails slammed his eyes shut and awaited the inevitable.

One blast.

Two blasts.

Masonry crumbling.

Teeth gnashing.

One prolonged groan of agony.

By the time Tails successfully fought off his own conscience and opened his eyes, Sonic had been thrown head-first into the ruins of an office building, his body caved so deeply in the brick foundation that he simply would not slide back down. Coming to grips with what he saw, Tails realized that he had seen the complacent veneer of their shared invincibility collapse before his very eyes along with the hedgehog's body.

And then worse started to happen. Sonic began to move.

Only here did the extent of the injuries become clear for all to see. As soon as Sonic got over the shock of what had just happened to him, he applied enough force backwards with his arms to shove himself a few inches further out of the groove he had made in the wall – hard to do when he had been crucified, in the most literal sense of the word. Though he himself couldn't see it, Tails couldn't un-see the blood gushing out of where the missiles had impacted the hedgehog's right side. Wherever the wound stopped, because it was hard to tell, a patch of deep burns began on fur that had just seconds earlier been as vibrant and blue as the morning skies. But the one detail that Tails couldn't escape was the ironic juxtaposition of Sonic's physical condition and the relatively stable expression of his face. Just from looking at it, one would think he had just been tripped on the sidewalk without an apology.

It was one of those many, many questions that Tails had about Sonic but never had the time to ask. Was he truly that calm under pressure? Did he simply not know the limits of his own body? Was he incapable of even feeling pain? Or even worse…was he not?

Just as the reverberating commotion from the blasts died down, a new one popped in – the hiss from Eggman's P.A. system. "Ladies and gentlemen…well, in this case, just gentleman…" said Dr. Eggman. "…you will be the lucky few to see, up-close and personal, the greatest entertainment event of all-time! The ultimate downfall of Sonic the Hedgehog!"

"Heh…typical Eggman," Sonic said, though it took quite a bit of effort to make sure Dr. Eggman could hear him from his high perch. "Can't just…cut to the chase, can ya?"

"Shut up." Though Eggman's command was whispered, the megaphone sent the message out loud and clear.

"Not until you hand him over!"

"If I were you, I'd be a bit more worried about yourself, hedgehog!"

Before Sonic could even think of making a move, he saw something bright and metallic headed straight for his broken body. Suspended in a figurative sea of bricks and mortar, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.

Sonic expected another simple blunt force impact. He got that, and so much more. The good news was that he was out of the wall. The bad news was that the Ravager's other hand had taken him in his grasp. Five mechanical fingers gave him the cruelest massage he could have ever imagined, crushing him, rubbing against all of his sore spots, and finally suspending him off the ground by his right hind leg.

That very second, Eggman yanked a lever on his control column. Without warning, Tails was raised another few feet above the scene. By the time the fluent mechanical motion had finished, Tails and Eggman were on the same plane of verticality that they could make personal eye contact. And Tails didn't like what he saw. There was a look in Dr. Eggman's eyes the likes of which he had never seen before, in all the battles they had fought over the years. The smiling, clownlike demeanor was gone. Tails was looking into the face of a cold-blooded killer.

"Nice of you to join me, fox-boy," said Dr. Eggman. "I thought we could watch this little moment…together."

Sonic waved his arms and shook his head as vigorously as his body would allow, maybe a bit more so, in a desperate plea for Tails' attention. His conscience couldn't bear the thought of letting the raw, eight-year-old fox watch this. A sick feeling emerged in the pit of Tails' stomach once the realization hit. Sonic knew what was coming.

And then Tails knew what was coming. And that's when he saw red.

With unimaginable fury, he clawed at the Egg Ravager's index finger, the one that cut off much of the circulation to his lower body. Several furious swipes at polished steel later, he had made no progress. With all of his might, he pushed down on his arms with and attempted to squeeze his way out. Beads of sweat poured down the fox's face to match the ever-increasing downpour, as he struggled to lift himself out of his bind. But it was no use. The Ravager's hold on him was just too tight.

The arm that quite literally held Sonic's life in its hands rocketed forward at full speed toward the same brick wall that it had just plucked him out of. Battered, broken, and immobile, Sonic gave in to the most primitive animal instinct and blinked.

Anticipating it didn't help.

At the moment of impact, every molecule of air in his chest was forced out. Sonic tried, tried so hard to force in more, but the Ravager's arm kept pushing him against the wall with all its power. He moved his arms fully to his sides and tried to push off them to buy his chest some more room, but Eggman's latest and greatest would not budge.

Breathe through your nose, Sonic, breathe through your nose…

"Is that…all you got?" wheezed Sonic.

Something's cracking…I think that rib's about to go…

A piercing scream emerged from his mouth.

Yep, there it goes…

Tails couldn't watch anymore. The sight of his friend…mentor…idol…savior…brother…the titles flashed through Tails' head as the image burned itself into his memory forevermore. He would give anything on this earth – anything – to switch places with his friend, to absorb the pain that Dr. Eggman was inflicting. Instead, he had his own trauma to deal with – the feeling that he, somehow, was personally responsible for all of this.

Learned helplessness asserted itself on the fox. Finally heeding Sonic's advice, he buried his face in his hands, two of the only appendages that were not constricted.

The built-in public address system of the Egg Ravager once again crackled into life. "I finally figured it out, Sonic," said Dr. Eggman.

"Wh…wha?" replied Sonic, who had been given little breathing room to make even one derogatory comment about nose hair.

"Your weakness. After all these years, it's clear to me. It's not your pea-sized brain, your wretched impulsiveness, your inability to stand still for more than five seconds…"

Keep flattering me, Egghead.

"…it's that bond," Eggman finished.

Sonic's brow snapped downward. "My…what?"

"That bond you share with that…mutant fox. I knew if I played my cards right, you would play right into my hands."

No sooner had Eggman gotten the point across than he felt a clattering vibration in his seat. As soon as he stood up to locate the source, he could practically feel his own heart travel up his own chest.

"Don't you ever…"

Deep within Sonic, a sleeping giant had awoken. Summoning from some deep, primal well of strength, arms extended fully outward, he pushed the Ravager's palm back with all of his might.

"…call my buddy…"

Eggman raced to his control panel to regain manual control of the Ravager's arm. But no matter what he could do, Sonic managed to pull the hydraulic press back inch by inch. It was a tug-of-war between a ten-ton automaton and a hedgehog, and the hedgehog was winning.

"…a WEAKNESS!"

One roll to the side later, Sonic dropped harmlessly to the ground. With no resistance, the mechanical arm extended forward at full speed, only to create a gaping hole in the brick wall.

Suspended high above the ground, Tails watched with baited breath. Come on, Sonic, get up! You've always gotten up before!

He had freed himself from Eggman's grasp. Standing back up on his feet was another matter.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Sonic summoned up those arms for one more mighty effort to push himself up. They wobbled. They buckled. And finally, they gave way, sending him face-first into the pavement. Dr. Eggman had taken everything out of Sonic, and there was nothing left for Sonic to give.

Slowly, one lurching step at a time, the mad doctor inched the Ravager closer to the exhausted hedgehog. Sonic at least managed to tilt his neck upward toward his attempted murderer. After all, if he was going to meet his end on this day, he wasn't going to flinch. He was going to stare it dead-on in the face.

"You've just made your final mistake, hedgehog!" said Eggman over the blaring P.A.

It was zero hour. Do or die. If Tails wasn't Sonic's weakness, now was the time for him to prove it.

The fox turned his head every which way, scanning the Egg Ravager for any weak points that he may have missed when he first laid eyes on the robot. Surely there had to be something. After all, Sonic's life was on the line. And no matter what, through sheer willpower, dumb luck, or both, he and Tails always made it through in the end.

Still, it wasn't like a solution was going to magically present itself.

Or was it?

Out of the corner of his eye, Tails saw it. A thin, white piece of heaven in a cloud of sparks and smoke, the hole that Sonic left in the frame of the Ravager when he took out the shield.

An exposed wire. Salvation.

If Tails' theory held true, then snapping that one wire would cut off the power to the machine, safely disabling it. It was just that tantalizingly close, just barely out of reach by arm…

The shoulder-mounted laser weapons and arm-mounted guns were aimed squarely at Sonic. There was no time. Tails had to act.

With one desperation heave, he flung his twin tails toward the wiring and made a silent prayer. If all he could hit was thin air, it was all over.

Success! He hit something!

Unfortunately, he had missed the wire altogether, instead striking a piece of the Ravager's steel frame that had not been affected by Sonic's attack.

Before the pain had even begun to set in from the collision, Tails felt the cold, hard stare of Dr. Eggman prying deep into his soul. With seemingly no other choice, his eyes were drawn to the cockpit. Sure enough, the mad scientist's attention was drawn towards Tails. Sonic had been granted a lifeline…for the moment.

"You..." said Dr. Eggman, pointing straight at Tails. "...almost made a very big mistake."

"Huh?" Tails asked.

"Don't think I haven't planned ahead for you, fox. That wire triggers the self-destruct protocol. If you had snapped it, I would have been blown sky-high! And as we both know, that just wouldn't be fair now, would it?"

Tails paused for a moment to consider whether he was bluffing or not, then threw out that possibility as soon as he conjured it up. After all, he was Dr. Eggman.

As if the encounter never happened, Eggman immediately turned his chair back toward the control panel, hovering his finger perilously over the button that would turn the fate of the universe with one push. "Now where was I? Oh, yes! Farewell, Sonic!"

Tails mulled his options. Destroy himself, or let Sonic be destroyed.

Half a second later, he came to his conclusion.

"Eggman!" Tails screamed.

Once again, Eggman peered the fox's way, if only just to humor him. But there was no humor in what he saw. Tails' expression would have one believe that he was the one in command of the situation, and there was good reason for that: both of his namesakes were hovering just over the wire. "I'm giving you five seconds!"

"You wouldn't," said Dr. Eggman. Though he tried to reassert himself, there was a noticeable stammer in his voice as the words came out.

The horror of what Tails was about to do finally dawned on Sonic. Almost instantaneously, all manner of fatigue vanished from his arms and legs, enabling him to gain a temporary foothold. He tried signaling with his voice, but so help him, nothing came out. The distance between the two may as well have been a mountain. Never before had he felt so utterly, utterly helpless.

"Three!" shouted Tails.

Two tails inched further away from the wire, like he was ready to swing at a fastball. Eggman ignored everything and placed his finger on the button anyway. His desire to eliminate Sonic escaped all logic.

Tails decided to cut his own countdown short. Just in case he and Sonic never saw each other on this earth again, he flashed one final smile and thumbs up to Sonic. He wanted the hedgehog's last image of him to be a happy one.

Finally, with no clue what lay on the other side, Tails swung away.

Sonic had prepared for the worst as best as he could, and in one gut-punching moment, he knew that he got it. With the benefit of a headstart on Sonic, Tails had been at the hospital long enough for doctors to place him on life support. A ventilator and an intravenous drip were the only things standing between him and the afterlife.

One of the first things Sonic noticed was that there were only two others at Tails' bedside – one doctor and one nurse – as opposed to the multitude of specialists that were infiltrating Sonic's space. If their facial expressions were anything to go by, the outlook was anything but optimistic.

No! Don't tell me they've given up on him! They can't!

All Sonic could do was watch for any signs of movement from the other side. So he watched.

And watched.

And watched.

Nothing. A full minute had gone by. Tails had yet to move even a muscle. The only signs to verify his continued existence on this planet were the rhythmic, shrill beeping of a heart monitor. Soon enough, even those started to fade away, becoming more infrequent with each passing second.

Sonic couldn't go back in time to make everything better. He couldn't heal everybody in this hospital. He couldn't even move. But one thing he could do was talk. And he could barely do that.

"Hey," he struggled to say.

His airways decided they could take no more after that, forcing him to choke up another pint. Fortunately for him and the team working on him, the bed he was lying on was covered in a sterile wax paper sheet that could be pulled off and re-extended at any time.

"Hey," he continued. "It's me…Sonic."

His voice seemed floaty, even lifeless, barely even recognizable as Sonic. There was none of the passion for life that exuded from his very being day after day. He was unsure that Tails could even hear him from his room. That is, assuming Tails was even…

…no. Sonic shoved such thoughts out of his mind immediately. It couldn't happen.

It won't happen.

"I just want you to know that…" He was out once again. Choke. Cough. Mess.

Just as soon as he could find the strength to utter another word, they arrived on the tip of his tongue. In case we never meet again…

The thought alone was too much to bear. The words plummeted back down his esophagus, forever to remain unspoken. In Sonic's mind, there was still only one way this could end.

"…I…I couldn't be prouder…of you…"

Gradually, Sonic's true voice emerged from the static of his circulatory predicament. Though a sharp, stabbing pain still resided deep in his lungs and throat, his desperate need to hack for air died down. The hedgehog wasn't sure if it was because his condition was improving or if it was simply because he had coughed up all the blood that he shed internally during the fight.

"And not just for…what you did back there…but…"

If anything ever sent Tails into an emotional rollercoaster, it was receiving a compliment. Naturally, Sonic took advantage of this time and again. To Tails, Sonic's way of showering praise was just another long, recurring teasing joke between brothers. To Sonic, it was that, and so much more. He was never fully sure that Tails ever comprehended just how special he truly was, how much he was capable of, how much he really meant. To think that he never would…that was a pain that cut deeper into Sonic than any of his burns.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sonic stopped again, scanning closely to see if Tails was responsive to his voice. But not even a finger was moving on the other side.

"…but…everything we've ever been through…you've…"

With each sentence, Sonic heard Tails' voice beckon to him. What it was saying, he had no clue. The words were indecipherable, all muddled together from the numerous conversations the two shared, from the countless experiences they shared through the years. With a small ember of hope burning in his heart, Sonic scanned the immediate area, looking for the source of the voice. Deep down, however, he knew the truth. It was all in his head.

His voice couldn't take any more. There was something in his throat – not blood, but something far more powerful.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Even with burns covering most of his body, Tails looked so peaceful lying there. It reminded Sonic of so many days in the Mystic Ruins, returning from an early morning run through the countryside only to find Tails in his lab passed out on his workbench after another long, uninterrupted night of drawing up blueprints.

More to the point, his face, though scarred across the forehead by flames and asphalt, carried the same neutral expression as it usually did. If he carried any regrets with him, it wasn't showing. Perhaps he was dreaming of something pleasant as the heart monitor ticked down to the seemingly inevitable.

Perhaps Sonic was dreaming. He could easily pound himself on the forehead to find out for himself, but the events of the day had weakened him to the point where his fists were holding his arms to the bed like lead weights.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Argh. This was going nowhere. His esophagus wanted him to stop talking, but his instincts wanted him to ramble on and on. It was time to cut straight to the point.

"I'd…...I'd really miss ya if you went away…"

Beep. Beep. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep…

Sonic's ears flicked at the sound. He was jolted back into life, as if Tails' heart monitor was his personal alarm clock. Once again, he tilted his neck toward the fox's room to see for himself, to make sure this wasn't an aural mirage conjured up by psychological denial.

The monitor itself verified what Sonic was hearing. A green trail of light moved from left to right on the screen, shooting upward in perfect synchronization with each beep. If its readings were to be believed, Tails' heart rate had returned to what was considered normal – that was to say, roughly half of Sonic's at that particular moment. The hedgehog let out a gasp that turned out to be more of an excited gagging noise. He would be out of his bed and through that curtain in a split-second if one of the staff wasn't busy wrapping his upper legs in bandages.

His eyes were peeled. If Tails was going to start waking up, now was the time.

And then it happened. Out of the corner of Sonic's eye, a movement.

Did I just see his finger twitching?

Sonic rubbed his eyes vigorously, just to make sure this also wasn't some kind of mistake. After all, staring at the same static image for five minutes is bound to have some effects on the eye. No…no mistake. Evidently, the two doctors that were in the room with Tails had been aware of the same things, and hurried to his side to check up on his vital signs.

Suddenly, Tails' whole body shuddered with a frightening jolt. All of the pain that he was enduring as he entered his coma had come back to him the moment he exited it. One limb after the other lifted slightly off of his bed, only to fall back down again like a rock, as he instinctively tried to find out which parts of his body he could move without erupting into ceaseless agony.

His eyelids began to slide open slowly and deliberately, one micrometer at a time, and then snap shut in an instant. The harsh glare of the hospital bulbs upon the floor was too much for the fox's eyes and mind to absorb all at once. And so the pattern went for a full minute, with his eyelid gaining an extra millimeter or so on each pass. Once Tails finally summoned the strength to keep them open halfway, Sonic was overcome by conflicting desires to look towards and look away. Before, when the two looked at each other eye-to-eye, whereas Tails would see determination, resolve, and boundless spirit in Sonic's green, Sonic would see a childlike trust, loyalty, and innocence in Tails' blue. He would hate to look into those eyes and see that innocence shattered.

Carefully, Tails turned his neck to the right. Those eyes were pointed straight at Sonic.

Of course. After all, it was Tails who wanted Sonic here in the first place.

He finally spoke, or at least moved his lips. The two beds weren't close enough for Sonic to hear what came out of Tails' mouth, if anything. Still, he could read lips well enough to realize that Tails was trying to call Sonic by name. The hedgehog shoved aside any feelings of his own pain and forcibly cleared his throat. He needed all of it in order for Tails to hear him.

"Yeah?" asked Sonic, with as much force as he could possibly muster.

The words fluttered out of Tails' mouth like a wounded duck. "We…we made it."

For the first time in what seemed like a year, Sonic smiled. His muzzle could barely contain the sheer width of his grin. Suddenly, Sonic's physical pain seemed to wash away. And as Tails shot back that very same smile, the hedgehog couldn't help but think that his friend had experienced that very same feeling.

Recovery would take time. Sonic knew full well that the hospital wouldn't simply let them leave on their own terms. And even if he could, Tails would need the time far more than Sonic did. That space that they shared was going to be their home for quite a while, whether Sonic liked it or not. But it was theirs together. Their situation, their pain, their struggles, all were part of a shared experience that was made all the more painful by their connection, but in that same connection lay the strength to overcome it. No pain was unbearable, no struggle too perilous, no tortured memory too traumatic, as long as they had each other.

They had indeed made it.

But Sonic still had plenty of questions to ask.

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #fan fiction #fanfic #sonic fan fiction #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #nervouswreck-96 #nervouswreck96