#and hell it just Looks Nice. the domed effect is very cool :)

[graff-aganda]

I'm all for my fellow merch makers making whatever decisions they want with what they produce. But I wish it were more widely known that a clear epoxy coat over acrylic pins and charms will yellow over time. ;;

[thatonesadending]

After being set adrift as a sheep in the astral sea, and making it into this strange city that they had followed Lucien into, Caleb is left alone with his thoughts and suspicions on what's really going on in Lucien's head. Can he bring all of his friends safely home while not being able to use the magic that Lucien can so easily dispel.

Or in other words. How Caleb defeats Lucien with a kiss, and ends up with two magical purple men by his side. Oh and it was really Sprinkles that saved the day!

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He liked being a sheep. It was almost peaceful, floating in the astral sea without a thought in his fuzzy head. The tumbling only made him a little dizzy, but other than the occasional shout of his companions, his mind was quiet. He would like it to stay that way, maybe.

But of course, that was not in his cards. Beau had grabbed him by the wool shortly after she had come through the gate, keeping him from straying too far. He didn't mind the rough yank from her, or even mini Veth clinging to him as they sailed towards the city. But Jester's aggressive petting once they reached their destination was a little much. He very much didn't like when she put Sprinkle/Artigone on his back and declared them "best furry friends", and the damn fey weasel began tunneling through his wool coat trying to tickle him. Essek had wordlessly picked up the small fey and handed it back to Jester, while stroking Caleb's woolen head, and apparently ignoring the others as they bickered about a plan.

Sheep are not very smart, so it took Caleb a very long time to realize Essek was petting him. And even longer to realize he was bleeding fairly heavily. Suddenly, whatever wild magic had changed his form evaporated and Caleb was himself again, on his hands and knees in this mysterious magical city, and Essek's hand midway through carding his hair.

"Oh, apologies." Essek snatched his hand back before Caleb could even process their positions. The movement had obviously hurt whatever injury the Dow was suffering through, but before he could comment on it, Jester was calling out to him.

"Oh good, you are back! You were really really cute as a sheep Caleb, but you couldn't cast the tower. Can you do that, and we can do the hero's feast, and rest, and -" Fjord cut her off.

"Jes, we might need to figure out where Lucien and Cree went first before we are safe taking a long rest."

Right. Lucien.

The whole reason that being a sheep had been initially a very nice experience. He could stop thinking about Lucien. And, well, what wasn't Lucien.

"You good?" Beau was in his head, and he turned his head to look for her and realize he was still on his hands and knees next to Essek. As the embarrassment crawled up his neck, and thump his ass to the ground and took a moment before responding.

"Is good even an option at the moment?"

"Fair. But like, right now, you are in check? That was pretty reckless teleporting like that."

Caleb found her standing 10 feet away, shifting uncomfortably and staring at him. Instead of answering he just nodded his head, he wasn't sure if it was a lie or not but Beau took it.

They had decided that the tower wouldn't be a good idea until they knew they were safe, and the dome and a short rest would have to do for now. They had set up their quick camp in between two of the unfamiliar buildings, thinking that to be safer than out in the open. The alley was only 15 feet wide, but opened out to two large streets that hopeful they could get away quickly if need be. Caleb was not really paying attention though, all of his swirling thoughts and overthinking came back. What they were facing was …. daunting. There were too many unknowns, questions, and possibilities to think through and make a plan. Lucien has proven to be incredibly powerful, but also impossibly confusing. None of them really knew what he wanted, or why he wanted them to be there to watch. Whatever it was, it could not be good.

Lucien said he wanted to make dreams come true through his reign, it was vague and threatening enough to send a chill through Caleb’s spiking hope. Caleb had only one dream at that moment, and that was that all of his friends made it safely home from Aeor alive. All of them. It was an impossible dream, especially since he wasn't sure how many friends he had here in this strange city.

A purple hand was resting on his knee as he sat in the dome, eating and tuning out the Mighty Nein’s arguing. Caducess had healed Essek as much as he was able, but the other wizard was still clearly very tired and out of his element. It was the second time that day Essek had reached out to Caleb, well if you could count petting him through his shock of the battle, while Caleb was numbly enjoying being a mindless sheep. Normally this would have caused a little rumble of warmth and pleasure in Caleb’s chest. They had been through so much as of late, and despite it all, Caleb would be lying if he said he wasn't beginning to feel more than just friendship for the other man. However, right now, the sight of those purple fingers touching him was causing his vision to become watery, and his chest tighten with anxiety.

They were reminding him of the one thought he didn't want to dwell on, the dangerous suspicion he had not said out loud yet to anyone. They reminded him of a very different friendship that, while short, had influenced almost every choice he had made in the last year or so. Had encouraged him to see himself as more than just the worthless scars of his past, worthy of love and caring from his friends, and to leave things better than when he found them. These dark purple hands brought back memories of lavender ones that were quick to help him up when he had fallen, slap him when he was lost, and to embrace him when he was lonely. A lavender that now was being worn by a man that did not deserve them, or the memories attached to them that he claimed not to have, but still seemed to affect him.

Caleb said nothing, not just for fear of how the others would react, but how it might be their undoing. He had tested this theory a few times now, with different degrees of success. The other’s had too, but he wasn't sure they had known what they could be doing at the time. Beau couldn't help annoying Lucien, it was just in her nature. And Jester, how for all the God’s she had pulled those cards was beyond him, but it had clearly had an effect. And now, despite having multiple opportunities, Lucien had not killed them, but rather invited them to the show. But what if ….

No, he couldn't think about that, he had to push it aside. If him and his found family were going to make it through this alive, he could not continue to entertain this dangerous thought. They - he - had to focus on the problem at hand, and that was what they were going to do next time -

“So you have paid for your ticket I see. Why don't you come see the preview of my show?”

You would have thought a spell had been cast to turn Caleb and Beau into stone, for how suddenly ridged they had gotten. It was too soon. They hadn't had any time to rest, plan, they could not survive another brutal confrontation. Essek’s hand tightened on Caleb’s knee, a silent quention, one that he didn't have an answer for. He slowly met Beau’s eyes from across the dome where she sat next to a very nervous Yasha.

“I promise, you all will make it to the main event, as long as you come and be a friend.”

“Beau, is it him? Is it - is it Lucien?” Yasha was strong, but her normally quiet voice that was now shaking was giving away how distressed she was. Caleb knew this had been all very hard for her, watching Lucian reak havoc on them while wearing the face of her oldest friend. It was part of why Beau, wanting so badly to comfort her new girlfriend, had been extremely cautious as of late, trying to minimize the damage when possible. However, she was clearly losing her cool at the moment. Beau was firmly holding on to Caleb’s attention as the now visible anger was tensing all of her muscles, causing her words to be more spat than spoken.

“The dick couldn’t even let us eat in piece before fucking around with us again.”

The dome was very quiet, as they all were incredibly aware how vulnerable they were, and how they couldnt even tuck tail and run if they wanted. They were not just tired, but not nearly healed enough, and so emotionally worn out from the excitement of the day that none of them were capable of a wise thought. Maybe that's why he did it.

Caleb dispelled the dome and stood. It's not like the dome provided safety to them from Lucien if he wanted their attention, he would just dispel the magic. Besides, he couldn't leave it in place and do what he was about to.

“I will go speak with him. You all can stay here, it would be safer.” He said. Beau had already led the way once today, and she was clearly too wrung out to be asked to do that again. Lucien had not said all of them needed to go, and for whatever his promise was worth, he claimed not to want to hurt him yet.

“Like hell you will.” Veth had since returned to her normal size, but her shrill voice cut through all of the tenuous silence of the others, unleashing a new wave of arguing. Caleb was tired of the back and forth, the fear, the unknown. He just wanted to get this over with, and if the Gods had any mercy left, would get Lucien to leave them alone long enough to get a bit of sleep. Hell, if he had to welcome Lucien back in his tower so that he could get some rest so that he could think through whatever upcoming plans Lucien had, he was just about ready to do that.

The only one who caught him walking about from the group in the dark was Essek, the others too busy rehashing old plans they already knew weren't going to work. “Where do you think you are going?” He hissed in the dark as Caleb followed Lucien’s mental pull.

“I am going to get some answers. Please go back with the others, you will be safer.”

“Do not pretend to care for my safety when you are carelessly abandoning yours.” Essek could have just replied with a thought, but he did not, choosing to let his commanding voice echo in the dark, bouncing off the alley walls, destroying any chance Caleb had to slip away from the others.

Veth and Jester were already on their way to drag him back when they all saw the familiar pair of red glowing eyes heading towards them in the direction Caleb had been heading.

“I thought I would continue to be a gracious host and meet you halfway.” Lucien said aloud, his gaze trained on Caleb.

“How thoughtful.” Caleb didn't even try to contain his sarcastic weariness. “Where is Cree?” He had just needed a couple more hours of not thinking about this man, what the future held, and the danger they were all in. Just a couple of hours and then maybe Caleb could have thought of a plan for survival. As it was, Lucien was making large confidant strides towards him, and Caleb felt himself stumbling back to the others.

“She is waiting for me, getting the show prepared.” He offered, as though it was the only natural answer.

“What the fuck do you want Lucien? We followed you through, we haven't tried to attack you, should that earn a fucking moment for ourselves before you drag through whatever stupid shit you have planned?” Caleb had been right, Beau was not in the right frame of mind to be talking to Lucien right now. Maybe that was what he wanted though, his usual annoyance at her was missing, and he was grinning a fang laced snarl at her.

“Now, I promise you I have no ‘stupid shit’ planned.” He said, with an amused condescension that Caleb was sure irritated Beau as much as it did him.

“Are you patronizing me, Lucien? That’s two promises you have made in the last five minutes that I doubt you plan on fucking keeping.” She snapped back. The tieflings smile disappeared, replaced with confusion. Genuine shock at something Beau had said, his guard only dropped for a moment, and Caleb could swear those red pupiless eyes flickered for a moment. He had twitched again, but it faded, and with it lost any good humor he had.

“No, was hoping that you’re going to patronize me. Would rather me reward your group's bravery in joining me here to witness the greatness magic you’ll ever experience, with simply killing you before you get the chance? It would not change any of my plans.” His words came as a growl, a threat. That voice had once been on their side, threatening violence to those that aimed to hurt the Mighty Nien, not directed at them.

“No,” Caleb sighed, trying to gain back a bit of control. “We have come as requested as friends, not foe, for the time being.” The silence was heavy for a moment, the tension thick as none of the Nien knew how to proceed. Jester eventually spoke up.

“So, are you gonna like … tell us what’s going on or like whatever. Because if not, we would really like to finish eating.” Jester was trying to sound cheery, motivating Lucien with her effortless charm to give him more information. However, Caleb’s mind was still lingering on that twitch he had seen, just a moment ago. His suspicion was full force now in the front of his mind, he couldn't shake it, no matter how foolish or unlikely. Maybe his exhaustion was making him soft, it was definitely clouding his judgement, but a plan was starting to form in his head. A foolish plan. More of an experiment, but if was all he had without magic. Caleb was suddenly grateful for his perfect memory, the one that allowed him to remember every word those purple lips had ever spoken to him or around him. All of seemingly wise words and quickly spun bullshit.

“Now Jester, you know his mother always told him to never give away a story for free.” Caleb interjected before Lucien could respond. His red eyes snapped to him, but almost as soon as they did they unfocused. They were surely going to argue with him, ask him why he was appearing to take Lucien’s side, so he quickly pressed on. “So friend,” he directed at the tiefling in front of him, unable to conceal more sarcasm in calling him friend, “ you clearly wanted us here for a reason. You wanted us to come make ourselves useful. Tell me, how can we be the chaos you want to see in the world.”

You would have thought Caleb had struck the blood hunter, his whole lavender form constricting for a moment. Tearror, fear, uncertainty, all flitting across his face before settling on anger. It didn't take Lucien more than two steps to reach Caleb, roughly pushing him back into the alley wall.

“Get the fuck out of my head Widogast.”

Caleb was paralyzed with fear, his half formed plan had had an effect, but now what. He couldn't raise his eyes to meet Lucien’s, knowing they were clear again, and staring him down with venom.

“I was not in your head. Whatever is there, whomever is there, is not of my own doing. I know you do not want to remember anything, do not want anybody else’s baggage in your head, their problems, thoughts, ideas.” Caleb was taking a gamble speaking to Lucien telapaically, but he wanted to make his appeal as deep as possible, take any ounce of luck he might have. Lucien froze again, his eyes impossibly wide with fear. He was too close to Caleb for him to get away, his grip strong on the shoulder that he shoved back against the wall, and pain was ripping through Caleb’s fear. Fire began to curl around his finger tip automatically, just in case this foolish plan went south. Before Caleb could continue though, he caught out of the corner of his eye, Essek preparing a spell, no doubt in effort to save Caleb. But Lucien simply removed his claws from Caleb’s shoulder for a moment, waving angrily to dispel any and all magic around him sending Essek flying backwards in force, and replaced his hand now around Caleb’s throat.

“If any of you so much as think a thought of magic, I will wring his throat until he is dead.” Lucien spat, but his eye still seemed to have lost their sheen, not that the others could see it. Caleb knew he had to act quickly, before Lucien fully came out of his daze that his words had left him in.

“Don't worry, the only thing magical here is you my friend.” Despite the pressure on his neck, and the searing pain in his shoulder, Caleb reached a hand up between them and pressed it lightly to Lucien’s lavender cheek. He stroked it ever so softly. The grip lightened, and the tiefling looked as though the ground had been pulled from under him. The rest of the Mighty Nien must have noticed the change, because they all went still and were watching the odd exchange, none of them knowing what Caleb was saying. The red eyes that had been nearly boiling with rage moment ago, almost looked like a dull pale ruddy marbles, not focused on anything but whatever was going on inside. Purple limbs were trembling around him, not backing away from Caleb, but unable to move other than to shake.

Caleb threw up a silent prayer to the Moonweaver. Hells, to the Wildmother, to the Luxon, to the Traveler. He was going to need any ounce of favor he could garner for what he was going to do next. Keeping his hand on Lucien’s cheek, he used his other hand to guide the now limp and trembling fingers away from his throat, and interlocked them with his. It had been so long since he had gotten to hold these hands, he had to force himself not to look down at them and try and take them all in. Instead, Caleb pushed himself away from the alley wall, closer to the dazed and confused blood hunter, and placed his lips to the man’s forehead.

He was just as warm as Caleb remembered. A curl falling in front of his face as he leaned in to Caleb’s kiss.

“Caleb!” The surprised voice rang through his head like a beautiful chime announcing the morning was here. There was no anger, no hint of condensation, just surprise and … joy. Caleb was failing in his attempt not to hope, his kiss lingered longer than it should, not wanting to face whatever ugly expression could be back on that handsome face. But when he pulled away, he got a smile. His knees nearly gave out in relief, but the free lavender hand was wrapping around him, keeping him upright and from pulling away farther.

“Caleb!” He was now speaking to him outloud, saying his name light a gasp. The smile dancing on his lips was light, it was sweetly mischievous, and not a lick of malice. Then in his head, “Caleb, darling, would you be so kind as to help me get this fucker out of my body.” It wasnt a demand, but a plea to a friend. Caleb felt an almost immediate draining of any will power that was keeping him from hoping, freeing his inhibition. He had no idea how to get Lucien out of this body, but he knew how to draw this voice closer. Closer to him, hopeful never to go again.

The hand that had been resting on a lavender cheek, now threaded through deep purple curls, pulling the tiefling as close as Caleb could get him, lips fitting together perfectly, if a bit desperately. He could hear Jester’s attempt to stifle a gasp, Beau non-attemp to yell “What the fuck!”, Fjord’s chuckle and then loud whisper at Veth to “Just hold on, give’em a minute”. But Caleb didn't care, not sure if he ever would. This kiss was bright, gentle, and held all these unexplored feelings he hadn't wanted to explore on his own. The ones he had just started to open up when death seemed to come and stop him, the ones of accepting love and forgetting guilt. And then there were ones he continued to explore on his own and with his friends, trying to make this world a better place.

Caleb let himself feel the joy in this moment, choosing not to care for now if it would last. The kiss was long, embarrassingly so, arms were still wrapped around him with no indication of release, so he just leaned into it. He didn't know how to banish Lucien, but he felt himself reach out in his mind, and gather up everything that wasnt that evil soul and pull it close. Every good memory, every hopeful moment, every bit of light he could find, he gathered together. Eventually he felt the tiefling chuckle against his lips. The laughter sent such a brilliant sensation of hope, Caleb had to pull away so he could see the face in front of him.

“Mr.Mollymauk Tealeaf?” He inquired, surprised at the hesitation the sent thought had.

“Ja, ja. The one and only Mr.Caleb.” It was no less cute the second time he heard Molly playfully mock his accent with his own barely there one. There was a long moment where the two simply rested their foreheads together, coming down from the incredibly high emotions from the last few minutes. Eventually it was Molly’s turn to pull away and look over Caleb.

“I mean I knew you could clean up pretty, but bless the Moonweaver, how the fuck did you get this handsome?” The easy flirting tone, the one Caleb hadn’t quite gotten used to until it was gone, filled him with more joy then he could possibly hold.

“And you my friend could use a bath and a change into old clothes.” Caleb spoke with a lightness he didn't know he was capable of, laughter lifting up every work. Molly looked down at himself, still water logged from Aeor and missing all of his color.

“You know, I think you are right. Gods this coat should be a sin, a capital offense.” There was no offense in his tone, just mirth. Caleb wanted to reach out and kiss him again, except suddenly Molly was holding him at arms length and looked worried.

“You know he is still in there right? Just … deeper? Like I was.” and the out loud, as though it was an afterthought “He is fighting for center stage. Like fuck I will give it to him with out a proper showdown though.” Even though his words were quite serious, Molly seemed not to let the situation take hold of him, optimism still shining through. Still smiling.

“Gods you two are making quite a show of this, and I really do hate the theater.” An exasperated voice cut through the shocked silence that had taken over the Mighty Nien, and a small wessel wormed its way off of Jester’s shoulder and over to Molly. Before he could say anything, the little quasi-deity of trickery and joy, jumped up to catch him by the wrist and bit down hard. Molly was jumping up and down rather undignified, swatting unsuccessfully at the fey creature but yelling quite a few obscenities. Yasha was the first to break from the Nien, striding over and removing the Traveler from Molly’s wrist without a word.

“What the fuck. Why did a talking rat just bite me Yash?!” Molly was holding his bleeding wrist, looking up at the familiar barbarian like he had never left.

“Excuse me, I would have you know that I am currently a wessel.” The traveler rebuked in what was probably more admonishment then he actually felt.

“Ok, well, whatever the fuck you currently are, why the fuck did you bite me?” But before an answer could be made, Molly was turning to the still stock still group of friends that were currently making no movements to understand all of the events that just happened. “Jester, love, you think you could heal this up? I would hate to make a mess of this lovely drab coat.”

Jester didn't move however, her mouth opened and gaping. Caduceus however was looking between Caleb and Mollymauk, and seemed to be the first to accept what was happening and walked over to Molly. Clasping both his hands the tieflings wrists, he said a prayer of healing without a word.

“Um, thanks. I don't think I have met you before. My name is Mollymauk, but my friends call me Molly.”

Caduceus, is regular form, laughed easily at the introduction. “I am Caduceus, and our friends - well, they call me lots of different names.” Their smiles were easy, that of a fast friendship.

“And the rat-wessel thing that bit me? Does it have a name?” Molly asked.

“Oh, um, that’s the Traveler. At least I think.” Cad spoke as though he was just giving the time of day.

“God’s, and I thought I was good at conning people. Jessie, you really got - oof” Jester slammed her full body weight into Molly, and impossibly, picked up the taller tiefling at the same time.

“If this is a trick, I will never forgive you, I don't care if you are dead Molly, I will really haunt you if you are pranking me!” Jester sounded on the edge of tears.

“Love, how would you haunt me if I was the one that was dead and you weren't?” Molly lovingly replied while stroking Jester's hair while she clung to him.

“Don't underestimate us, we would find a way!” Veth chimed in adding her arms to the hug, despite all she could reach was his thigh.

“Um, I feel like I should know you, but I am not really one to deny a hug.” Molly laughed through obvious confusion at the halfling clinging to his leg.

“It’s Nott you asshole.” she said, never letting go.

“Oh, ok. That makes perfect sense.”

They eventually let go for the others to see, leaving Fjord shaking his head in disbelief, Beau obviously wrestling with either punching or hugging the man, Essek standing back in confusion, and Yasha … arms crossed and distrusting.

“Prove it. Tell me something only he and I would know.” Molly looked a little hurt, but then a wide grin took over his face. The kind he had saved when he had a really great story to tell.

“Well, Yash, there was that time a couple weeks after you brought me to the circus, and I was really trying hard to save up the coin for my first tattoo. And well, I volunteered myself for that ‘after hours’ performance. You being the lovely dear that you are, volunteered with me thinking you would be gentler than the rest, and what was a little rubber and oil between friends. Only, you got me to use a safeword for the firs-” He was tackled for the second time that night, the rest of that story snuffed out by Yasha’s arms.

“I thought we agreed never to bring that up again?!” But she obviously wasnt mad.

Fjord and Beau both broke at the same time, gathering up Molly into a shared embrace. Of course, Beau had to end it with punching him in the shoulder and muttering “asshole” under her breath. Essek was still clinging to the shadows, obviously not wanting to be part of this reunion. Caleb didn’t know how to introduce the two just yet, so instead he clung to the familiar.

“Mollymauk, it seems like we might have a lot to talk about, -”

“Like how you two were KISSING!?” Jester interrupted excitedly.

“Um, well, ah - I meant more of where we are and what to do about Lucien.” Caleb replied.

“You don't have to worry about him anymore.” Sprinkles was once again on Jester’s shoulder, speaking much louder than a wessel should. “I have removed his soul and sent it to the Moonweaver to deal with it. She is a lot better with that kind of thing.”

“Um thanks?” Molly said, clearly still thrown off by the talking fey wessel.

“Not a problem. Besides, I am the only one around here who gets to strangle people until death.” That should have been a horrifying sentence, but Jester was just giggling along with it.

“Ok, before we talk about anything else, you lot wouldn't happen to have my coat? And a place to sleep, I feel like I haven't slept in a year!” Molly playfully whined. He did however look fairly tired. They could get the rest of their questions answered later, all that matter was right now. And right now, they had Molly back with them. Caleb had Molly back.

He couldn't help but shoot the tiefling silly grins as he summoned the tower, looking forward to every next moment Caleb could spend with Mollymauk Tealeaf. Even as he pushed back the guilt of still having Essek by his side.

[freyjawriter24]

Snek Boi

(working title - suggestions welcome!)

My entry for the Great Good Omens Snake-Off!

You could spot Crowley in a crowd from a mile away. It wasn’t the bright hair that did it – although that had been a major contributor in earlier times, before the humans had figured out how to create a rainbow of hair dyes – nor was it the ever-present pair of dark glasses on his face – although that did stand out occasionally, depending on the light levels. No, it was the way he moved.

Crowley had the body of someone who used to be a snake, and whose corporation had never quite forgotten it. His spine would bend at odd angles, his hips would sway in a way that almost defied physics, and his legs looked like they’d never quite learned how to walk properly. Six thousand years of living in human form, and Crowley still looked more like a snake when he moved than the tattoo on his face did.

Except, it wasn’t quite six thousand years. Not consistently.

Because when Eden was razed and all celestial beings – angels fallen and not – lost the ability to show their wings on Earth, Crowley kept his snake form. He was still able to transform at will, become the thing forced on him by his rapid descent from Heaven, and use it to curl up tight in on himself or slither away through tiny gaps. It was a defence mechanism of sorts, he supposed, and he hated it.

No, that wasn’t fair. He didn’t hate being a snake – he rather enjoyed it, most of the time. He liked the feeling of the warm sun on his scales, and often took to napping like that when he knew no one would see him. He liked the sensation of the ground against his belly, of the smoothness in the way he could move around like that. He liked the shapes he could make in that form, looping himself into a ball or draping himself artfully across branches or furniture. What he didn’t like was what it represented.

The thing about Falling was that it changed you, in ways too numerous and too horrifying to think about all at once. One of the things it changed was vulnerabilities – no longer was immortality certain for eternity, but now it could be ended by no more than a drop of holy water. The demons, of course, had found a counter for that. They could not solve it, and did not have the imagination to make anything new, but when they finally hit the surface of the new place they called Hell, they found the fire there particularly effective at the opposite destruction. All the immortals became mortal when half of them Fell, that was the strange thing.

But another thing Falling did was change your being at a fundamental level. Whereas the celestials Upstairs had their bodies decorated with marks of their angelic nature – gold leaf or silver, soft or bright colours, in freckles or marble cracks or across joints or on keratin – the creatures Downstairs were given a very different aesthetic. Brightly-coloured hair shrivelled and took on a strange new shape. Silvered teeth became sharp and surprisingly difficult to speak through. Dappled gold on cheeks swelled and became sticky, uncomfortable, and alive. Swirls of multi-coloured angelic beauty shrank and condensed and drained to be dark as Hell.

Most demons had an animal they were closely associated with. All demons who had Fallen did, at least – some of the creatures in the celestial basement were never angels in the first place, but that’s a different story altogether. Most of these animals were considered scary or dirty or strange by the first humans – though whether the associations came about because of some knowledge of demons, or whether they were chosen for demons because of the known future associations, God only knows. Flies, toads, moths, scorpions – all manner of insects, arachnids, reptiles, and amphibians. Birds and mammals were rarely on the list, presumably because of their proximity to humanity in terms of empathy, but there were a few exceptions. And, of course, snakes.

Crowley’s snake form was a reminder of everything he’d lost in the Fall. Everything he’d become (through what he still wasn’t convinced was entirely deserved means), and everything he would never be able to stop being.

He hated that this source of comfort, this respite from the angled gangliness of his human corporation, was also such a firm pointer towards his Fallen nature. He hated that even his human aesthetic was bound to it, the snake in him peering through his slashed yellow eyes, showing itself through his scattering of black scales, making itself heard through verbal tics he couldn’t quite eradicate. He hated the shame that came with his looks, the fear humans felt when they saw his eyes, the disgust they showed when they caught a glimpse of the reptilian parts of his skin.

Most of all, he hated what Aziraphale must think of him for all this.

The angel had made his thoughts quite clear on Crowley’s appearance way back in the early days. They’d been stood before three crosses, wincing at the sounds of pain, and the demon had just dared to say that the demonic name the angel had first been told was not the one that fitted right.

“Well, you were a snake.” Perhaps Aziraphale hadn’t meant to put so much derision into the word, but it sounded harsh and heavy to Crowley, and it bounced around his skull decades, centuries, millennia later while he was trying to sleep. There were certain words and phrases that often did, and he could do nothing to stop them, even if he dared try to use logic to scare them away.

Of course, everything came to a head with Armageddon. Now there were far worse things than snake flying around his mind – things involving fire, lots of fire, and an empty, horrifying sense of not-here-ness, of intense, deep loss.

The dreams kept him up at night, occasionally, but were soothed by the calming presence of the angel next to him. Aziraphale would stroke his hair, hold him, whisper gentle things in his ear until the stupid, unnecessary blood stopped pumping at rocket speed through his veins and he remembered how to make this body breathe. He was always there when he needed him, usually sat up reading by the moonlight that would have been too weak for human eyes.

He was always there, always comforting, always safe. And yet he hated Crowley’s demonic snake-iness just as much as the demon himself did.

That was why he hid it.

He didn’t mean to, not really. It wasn’t out of anything malicious or duplicitous. It was more shame, really, than anything else. But it was more that it didn’t ever come up. If by some strange coincidence Crowley would have been able to get them out of a tight spot by turning into a snake, he would have done – with much apology and self-deprecation, of course, but he would have done it. But it hadn’t ever come up, and it never seemed like a good time to mention something so disgraceful, so he hadn’t.

Which was why the demon had never changed form in Aziraphale’s presence, or anywhere that he thought the angel might walk in on him. It was only ever at the Mayfair flat, or out in the desert, back in the day, or when he knew for sure Aziraphale was on another continent. Never in the Bentley, though that would have been nice. Never outside in London, which would cause too much attention anyway. And never, never in the bookshop.

Well. Almost never.

Crowley wasn’t quite sure of the sequence of thoughts that led him to such a reckless action. But it was cool outside, the sort of not-quite-cold freshness that made his skin crawl, and it was warm in the bookshop, specifically in a patch of sunlight magnified by the domed skylight.

Aziraphale had gone out, looking for something specific at the British Library, and he’d promised he’d be back in time for dinner, but what with the time of year and the angel’s tendency to get distracted by books and history, not to mention both of those things together, Crowley knew it’d be dark before he got home. By which time any warmth would have gone from the snake’s scales, and he would have woken up, shaken away the grogginess, and had time to remember how to both look and behave like a functional human being again. So it was relatively risk-free. Or so he thought.

(Perhaps somewhere in there had been a deeply-hidden, long-buried desire for Aziraphale to know the truth. Perhaps the recklessness was a subconscious plea to be known. Or perhaps there was some higher divine nudging in there, just for the drama of it.)

The angel had left, and the demon had locked the door and shut the blinds behind him, and then he’d transformed in the bookshop for the very first time, and enjoyed the sensation of the flooring under his belly, and revelled in the joy of not having to deal with limbs anymore, and moved over to the warm patch of ground and curled up and went to sleep.

The tinkle of the shop bell was what first disturbed his deep slumber, but what actually woke him was the shocked gasp the angel let out when he saw him.

Crowley started up out of his nap in shock, hissing involuntarily, and transformed back into his human corporation instantly. He grabbed wildly at the sunglasses that he’d left casually on a nearby shelf, and shoved them on as quickly and firmly as he could.

“Azsss... Angel, I...”

The demon was shaking, actually shaking, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run, wanted to bolt out the door and never come back, wanted to get in the Bentley and drive off to Alpha Centauri on his own after all, wanted to burrow into Aziraphale’s arms and never come out. But, well. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

“Crowley.”

His voice was far too soft, far too full of fondness and affection and... and love.

The angel took a cautious step or two forward, eyes shining. Crowley felt trapped – not by Aziraphale, who had now paused a few metres away, careful not to overcrowd him, but by the situation, by whatever physical or metaphysical reason that enabled him to shift between his two forms. Whatever that was, was trapping him. Trapping him in his demon-ness: unquestionably Fallen, inescapably different from Aziraphale. And now the angel knew.

He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. Tried to tell himself he could accept Aziraphale’s pity, the I still love you that was sure to come. After all, it was the ‘love’ part that mattered, right? Not the pitying way he would look at him, not the sadness hidden behind those declarations of loyalty, not the ‘despite your flaws’ the whole thing would entail.

Because that was the problem, really. He knew the angel would hate that part of him just as certainly as Crowley himself hated it. Except Crowley didn’t only hate it, because sometimes feelings and emotions just don’t make sense, and he loved being a snake, even if he hated the reasons behind it. Which is why he couldn’t bear to think of Aziraphale’s pitying reaction.

And now the angel knew. And Crowley was about to feel that searing pity first-hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can still transform?”

“I, err, um, well,” Crowley blustered, struggling to figure out what to say. “I just, well it never really came up, and I, uh, it never seemed like a good time, I –”

He stopped, and took a breath, focusing hard on a spot on the floor to the right of Aziraphale. He’d never been particularly good with words, but he knew the importance of them. He didn’t know how to get everything he wanted to say across right now, but he knew it was important not to say the wrong thing. He didn’t want the angel crying on him or anything. So he settled on silence, for the time being.

His eyes darted up to look at Aziraphale.

The angel smiled, slightly sadly, and Crowley could feel something tightening around his heart at the pity he knew was coming. He set his mouth in a tight line, bracing himself for impact, and thanked Somebody that he’d had the sense to keep his glasses nearby to hide behind now.

“No, I suppose there is no perfect time to say something like that.”

Crowley nodded slightly, trying to stop his hands from clenching into fists. He watched Aziraphale from behind the dark lenses in much the same way a cornered mouse must watch a pampered housecat, uncertain if the predator will act on its deep-buried instincts.

“I’m glad.”

Crowley’s head jerked up at that, narrowing his eyes at the angel.

“Not that you didn’t say anything, I mean,” the angel clarified. “Just that you have that... outlet. It must be quite freeing, I should think. Like being able to stretch your wings...”

It was a similar sensation, Crowley thought, but not exactly the same. For him, at least, getting his wings out felt like unbinding something that had been pulled taught and held too tightly in place – it was a relief, an ached-after pleasure. Taking on his snake form was, if anything, more of a comfort than a release – he didn’t itch for it in the same way he itched to stretch his cooped-up extra limbs – but the feeling of being in one’s natural state, of feeling calm and content and complete was certainly the same. Often, in fact, the only way he was able to cure any aching for his wings to be free, like they had in Eden, was to become that other form he had been in the Garden; the tight feeling at his back never followed him as a snake. He didn’t like to imagine how uncomfortable it must be for Aziraphale, who had no secondary release like that.

The angel took another half-step forward and smiled again, his eyes searching the black lenses for a hint of the yellow eyes beneath. Then he opened his mouth and continued the thought.

“And I’m glad that you didn’t lose that part of yourself.”

He couldn’t take it. Crowley made some strange, involuntary noise in his throat, then turned and strode away a few paces, crossing his arms defensively and refusing to look back at Aziraphale.

“Crowley?”

He didn’t turn. He’d thought for a moment that he could manage this, but it was too much. He’d never been that great at understanding or dealing with emotions anyway – it had taken him a few thousand years to realise how much he loved Aziraphale, after all – but now it was all too much, too difficult to comprehend, and he could feel himself shutting down. He just wanted it to stop, everything to freeze, for Aziraphale to just forget the conversation and invite him out for a quick bite to eat, not keep talking and get closer and closer to saying something Crowley was going to wish he had never heard.

“Crowley, my dear, I’m sorry if... I’m sorry that this is a sensitive subject for you. I just – I want you to know you don’t have to hide yourself from me, okay? You don’t have to curl up somewhere you don’t think I’ll find you just so you can transform. I really... I really don’t mind.”

And there it was. I don’t mind. He was trying, oh, he was really trying, but it was still there, still seeping through the cracks. Pity, in all its angelic glory. Crowley had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping, but he couldn’t help the hiss-like growl that escaped his lips.

He silently cursed that, too. He hated how betraying even this version of his body was – the hissing, the sibilance that surfaced when he was stressed, the scattering of scales that still grazed his skin, his goddamned slitted eyes. Everything about him that wasn’t blatantly human was blatantly snake, and that was the root of the problem – any sign he wasn’t human was a sign he was a demon, and every one of those could be traced back to the form he could still, for some unfathomable reason, take.

Crowley couldn’t see Aziraphale, but he could tell the angel had noticed his reaction. He felt the ethereal being step closer again. “I mean it my dear, I really do.”

“Angel...” Crowley turned around now, unable to stop himself. His arms remained tight against his torso, still fending off Aziraphale’s words, his endless pity. “You don’t have to.”

The angel frowned. “I don’t have to what?”

Crowley sighed, frustrated. He was going to make him say it, wasn’t he? He floundered for a moment, no words coming out of his moving mouth, and then he sighed again. No escaping it. Just bite the bullet.

“Pretend, for my sake,” he said, and turned sideways so he wasn’t presented with the full force of whatever Aziraphale’s reaction would be. “You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to, I’ll make sure you’re away, I’ll hide, I – I mean, I didn’t expect you to see me this time, but I’ll be more careful, I’ll –”

He was stopped by a hand on his arm, stilling him into silence. Aziraphale had stepped right up to him, now, and was using the point of contact to turn Crowley to face him. They were almost chest-to-chest.

“May I?”

Aziraphale had taken his hand off the demon’s arm and now had both of his own raised slightly, gesturing. Crowley hesitated, then nodded. He’d never been able to deny his angel anything.

The glasses were lifted off delicately and placed down neatly on the nearest available surface. Blue eyes met sulphur ones, and the former smiled gently.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Aziraphale said, slowly, deliberately. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”

A short, consonant-heavy sound rose up, unbidden, in Crowley’s throat.

The angel took a deep breath, then ploughed on, never wavering in his eye contact with the demon before him.

“I love you, Crowley. I love every part of you. And I don’t want you to hide any of it from me, not anymore. Our own side, you said. And together, you said. I want us to be together, wholly together, without shame, without secrets, without fear. And I know a lot of that has been my fault, that we haven’t been able to do it sooner, but now that that’s done with, now that I’m here... I don’t want there to be anything else stopping us. I don’t want you to feel like we can’t... like you... like I’m...”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to flounder, uncertain of how to express what he wanted to say.

Crowley shook his head, unable to make the words come. Please, angel. Stop. It’s okay, I can take it. I’ve been dealing with this for a while, you don’t need to lie to me. Just stop. I’ll go, I’ll hide, it’s okay.

The demon’s eyes flicked to the safety of the dark lenses, put down just out of easy reach. Aziraphale followed his gaze, and his face crumpled slightly when he realised what Crowley was looking at.

“Oh, my dearest. Please, I don’t want you to feel like that. You shouldn’t have to wear those when it’s just us. Please. I love you, Crowley. Please let me see your eyes.”

The demon had shut them tight as the angel spoke, and now he found that he didn’t want to open them again. He shuddered slightly, trying his hardest to hold back tears.

“But you hate them,” he managed, and was thankful that it sounded more like a whisper than a sob.

There was silence for a moment, and Crowley would have thought that the angel had vanished if he couldn’t feel his proximity. Aziraphale didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe for several seconds.

Then he said, in a voice somehow both soft and hard at the same time, “What?”

Crowley shook his head, eyes still tight shut, refusing to believe even for an instant that the angel could harbour anything other than revulsion at any reminder that he was a demon.

“I’ve seen the way you react to them. Always have.” His voice was small, pathetic, but right now he didn’t care. “It’s like you forget they’re there. And then I take off my sunglasses and you...” Crowley shuddered, and this time it definitely was a sob. “You hate them.”

“Please, my darling, please look at me. That’s not true, not even for a second. Please, please just open your eyes.”

It took him a moment to summon the willpower, the bravery, to do so. But then he did, and realised the angel was close to crying, too.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, his face the picture of honesty and earnestness. He stared into Crowley’s eyes as he spoke, gaze flicking between the golden irises, now helplessly expanded to block out any humanising whites. His own pale blue eyes were flooded with love, and the words were almost secondary to the depth of meaning that one look offered.

“Your eyes are the most beautiful thing about you. How could you ever think that I would hate them?”

Crowley’s mind stopped working.

He became incapable of speech for a solid five minutes, but Aziraphale let him work it out, let him garble nonsense syllables, let him hover between belief and terror, let him slowly, slowly get his brain back in order. The whole time, the angel stood there, so close, ready to fold Crowley into his arms at a second’s notice. The whole time, he watched his beloved demon’s face, gazing at the eyes, lingering on the tattoo, and never once flinching at the unbidden elongated sibilants that escaped the occult being’s forked tongue.

“You...” Crowley whispered finally. “You like them?”

“Of course I do, my dearest. I love them. They’re gorgeous. How on Earth could I hate them?”

His voice betrayed no hint of a lie or an exaggeration. His soft face was kindly but honest, not pitying. He was... Crowley hardly dared believe it. Could he be... telling the truth?

“Because they’re snake eyes,” he said, hoping that was enough explanation. “’M a demon. ’S a reminder.”

Aziraphale shook his head slowly. “Darling, the first thing I knew about you was that you were a snake. That’s how I first saw you. That’s how we met. How could I ever hate something that makes you who you are?”

Crowley stared at him for another few seconds. Then all his resolve crumbled, and he practically fell into the angel’s strong, reliable arms, and allowed himself to be held, tight and safe, and basking in the glow of angelic love.

At some point, they ended up on the sofa, wrapped around one another, Crowley allowing all the pent-up fear and shame to tumble out of him in shaking gasps and tears. Aziraphale wiped his cheeks and played with his hair, holding him and soothing him until he’d let it all out.

At some point, Crowley sat up, and tried for a smile, and Aziraphale leant forwards and kissed him on both eyelids, and told him he was beautiful.

At some point, perhaps a long time later, an angel and a demon sat on that same sofa together. The angel was reading in the fading daylight, and the demon was coiled around him in the form of a large black snake. They were happy and comfortable together, and the sunglasses lay long-forgotten on a table by the door to the outside world.

And at that point, they were happy.

[spring-emerald]

this thing called love

“You know, it’s really unfair that Stingyshima is popular,” Hinata says with a huff, lips pouted in disgruntlement.

Kageyama pauses writing, dragging his eyes from Yachi’s neat notes he’s copying from to Hinata. “What?”

Hinata shrugs, mechanical pencil balanced between his nose and upper lip, sliding even further in his seat as he insolently spreads his legs apart under the desk, looking like a real picture of laziness and an absolute dumbass who don’t have time to act carefree at the moment. Kageyama frowns and kicks him on the shin, startling him and causing the pencil to lose its balance, earning him a glare from the shorter teen.

“I’m just saying,” Hinata bends to rub his abused leg, “his personality’s awful and yet so many girls have a crush on him. I don’t get it,” he says as he finally sits properly before throwing his hands in the air.

Kageyama just rolls his eyes at Hinata’s antics and reaches over to thump him on the side of his head. “You really don’t have time worrying about things like that,” he says, nodding down at the notes with emphasis.

They’re on the cusp of failing a class again and he really, really doesn’t need that to happen and he really, really don’t want to take supplementary lessons for it and miss any training camps that might be scheduled during that.

“I know. But I get a little jealous! Just because he’s tall and-”

Kageyama zones out after that, pointedly ignores Hinata’s tirade about Tsukishima’s supposed popularity in favor of looking back down at the notes and try to find where he left off.

“-Don’t you get jealous, Kageyama?”

Kageyama knits his eyebrows together as he looks up at Hinata again, who now has his chin resting on his hand, head tilted curiously to the side. “No,” He says with a shake of his head then promptly returns to his task.

The thing is, after that particular conversation, Kageyama started to notice things about their schoolmates’ interaction with Tsukishima.

Like how the students part and give way and girls watch Tsukishima walk along the grounds with admiring gazes, very reminiscent of the way they sometimes do in shoujo mangas when a prince-like character is introduced. Or the way underclassmen, especially girls, would huddle together and giggle amongst themselves when they catch sight of him during lunch time rush in the cafeteria. Or how Tsukishima would be at the receiving end of assorted pastries like a small packet of freshly baked cookies, or a cup of pudding. Or that in some instances, Yamaguchi would arrive at their lunch spot without Tsukishima because he’s been held back by an underclassman, and arriving a few minutes later from the direction of the courtyard, looking a little annoyed and weary.

Kageyama never gets the chance to ask him about it, figures Tsukishima would talk about it if it’s really bothering him, but he does give him a questioning look, one that Tsukishima returns with one that Kageyama translates as ‘nothing, don’t mind it’ along with a light shrug of his shoulder.

-----

It boggles Kageyama, to say the least. Why people would suddenly react that way around Tsukishima. Not that he didn’t think that Tsukishima can’t be popular or that he doesn’t have the right to, but…it’s just Tsukishima.

Cool, aloof, unbothered Tsukishima, who walks around with his large headphones and chin held high as he casually pass by other people without a care for the world.

Tsukishima who prods and tease and sometimes annoys the hell out of people just for the heck of it.

Tsukishima who sometimes give solid and sensible advice, if approached seriously about matters that bother you.

He’s a skilled middle blocker and a national level player one at that, so he’s been shown in television and is probably well-known especially among volleyball fans. But Hinata’s gotten a little famous too, especially to those who see him as inspiration or those he’d ‘blown the minds of’ (Hinata’s words, not his).

He’s smart and belongs to the honors section, and had gotten academic awards despite his active participation in club activities. But so is Yachi and Yamaguchi. Kageyama’s relieved that he knows smart people because they’d been really helpful in keeping his grades afloat enough to participate in club activities.

He’s got other talents as well. Kageyama knows that he plays guitar and bass and can sing well. He’s got a channel where he covers songs, though they’re the only ones who knew that it’s actually him since he’s never really showed his face in any of his videos. So he’s kind of popular in a way, Kageyama guesses.

Ultimately though, it’s just Tsukishima doing what he usually does. So there’s no reason to act like that around him.

-----

Apparently, Kageyama underestimated how popular Tsukishima actually is.

Because, as it turns out, he’s really popular. If the screams and swoons of his names of most of the girls in the auditorium are to go by.

The music is already loud as it is but they decided to add more to the noise contained in the domed room.

Kageyama’s head and ears ached, and he even fills a little dizzy because of the shrill yell-singing happening around him and he’s somehow relieved to be pushed back by the throng of girls that went closer to the stage to get to where Tsukishima is currently performing with other third years students-an impromptu band formed for tonight’s concert to culminate the festivities of the school festival.

He’s playing guitar and singing an old but catchy English song that Kageyama doesn’t completely understand, but one that he’s heard and knows that is included in the playlist Tsukishima’s recently made for him.

Kageyama doesn’t know where the other three are, supposed they also got swept away by the crowd, but he won’t risk going back in there, and decided to just stand against the wall at the far end of the room. Not only was the volume more tolerable, it’s not cramped and hot, and has a good vantage point, a full view of the stage where Tsukishima seems to be having fun performing, especially for someone who claims to have been forced and blackmailed to do so. He must be feeding off the excitement of the audience, though Kageyama wished that they were less rowdy in showing their appreciation.

It’s kind of nice. Seeing Tsukishima like this that is. Kageyama’s only ever seen him be occasionally passionate about volleyball, and when he’s commenting and teasing them and their juniors about their idiocy. Watching him having fun while doing something else is a welcomed change.

The song eventually comes to an end, and the auditorium gets filled with even louder screams which Kageyama decidedly escapes from in favor of catching some fresh spring air.

-----

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, King.”

Kageyama stops humming and breaks out of his reverie upon hearing the familiar voice, noting the hint of relief and exasperation on the tone. He scoots to the side, giving Tsukishima space.

“I wasn’t hiding.”

Tsukishima plops down beside him. “The three didn’t know where you’d gone. They were worried when they couldn’t find you inside.”

Kageyama winces in guilt and sends a short mental apology to their friends. “I got pushed out by the crowd. And it was getting quite loud in there. But I only stepped out after you’ve finished. You were really good,” he says with a small, soft smile.

Tsukishima searches his face. “You didn’t leave because of anything else?”

Hinata had mentioned something about why Kageyama probably left when he came looking for him, though he’d taken it with a grain of salt. Hinata likes to assume things and make a big deal out of nothing most of the time after all.

Kageyama’s frown and unsure “No?” confirms this.

“So you didn’t leave because you were jealous?”

“Jealous? Of what? Why would I be jealous?”

Right. What did Tsukishima even expect? Kageyama’s obliviousness to things not related to volleyball is an impenetrable wall- hard to scale and harder to breach, unless one uses a direct method.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Tsukishima shrugs rather dramatically. “Maybe because girls were going crazy for me?”

Goodness, Tsukishima was already pointedly ignoring that, had been for the past couple of years now, but of course Hinata and even Yamaguchi dare to rub it in his face from time to time. He’d hoped his nonchalance and disinterest, which isn’t even a façade would turn them away, but as the years go by, it only seemed to have the opposite effect. Yachi anxiously remarks that after tonight though, they’ll be sure to be more obvious and aggressive and that Tsukishima needs to be careful about accepting gifts from them after Home Econ class because they might have slipped in some love potion or something.

Kageyama makes a face upon remembering how the female student population seemed to have collectively lost their minds over the band. “Ugh, no. I definitely don’t like that kind of attention.”

Tsukishima gives him a hopeless look, then softly snorts and eventually laughs. Kageyama startles and stiffens at his reaction and frowns deeper. “What? Why are you laughing?”

When Tsukishima stops laughing, Kageyama immediately catches on the teasing smile and glint on his eyes and tried to back away. But Tsukishima’s faster and he soon finds his face squished in between large hands, making his lips pout before it meets Tsukishima’s own in a quick, chaste peck.

“That’s not what I even meant, King,” Tsukishima says, shaking his head a little while squeezing Kageyama’s face harder before letting it go.

Kageyama rubs his cheeks and wills away the warmth that crept up his face at the sudden affectionate gesture. “Then what did you mean?”

Tsukishima just laughs again before pulling him into a hug, forcing his head and face to rest against Tsukishima’s shoulder and chest. “What I meant is that you’re jealous that girls are crushing on me, who is, you know, your boyfriend?”

Kageyama blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. But I get it. Your Majesty can’t be bothered to be jealous over such trivial things, since he’s above all the lowly common girls.”

“Well, I don’t get why they’re suddenly paying attention to you. It’s not like you’re doing anything special.”

Oh wow. Tsukishima feels his something inside his chest squeeze. “Ouch, my King. That actually hurts.”

Kageyama lifts his head and looks up at Tsukishima. “No, but Kei…” Tsukishima looks down at him, surprised at the use of his given name moreover the softness of it, though a little wary about what Kageyama’s going to say next. “You’ve always been doing great. You’ve always been admirable. So I don’t understand why they’re only seeing it now.”

Kageyama says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s that simple, a universal truth and oh wow, Tsukishima’s chest is squeezing for an entirely different reason. He will never get over how Kageyama can say these kinds of things easily, will never get over the way he naturally but unconventionally affirms his feelings for him. Until now, even almost a year of dating, Tsukishima still gets unbalanced, still gets flustered, by the King, of all people.

Tsukishima doesn’t bother hiding his wide, giddy smile from Kageyama before gently smooshing him against himself.

-----------

Tsukishima performing ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ won’t leave me alone.

[spidergwenstefani]

Stakeout Makeout

Happy Valentines day!!

I’ve been meaning to write more 616 canon fics so I went all in with this one. It’s just a valentines day fic set with current comics canon (except not the new Winter Soldier title bc I’m not caught up with that)

cw: none

rated: g

also credit to @kangofu-cb for spinning that title just right off the dome. Amazing.

“It’s getting pretty cold, huh?” Clint says, rubbing his arms and not bothering to suppress the shiver that runs through him. LA in February isn’t nearly as rough as New York, but once the sun goes down it’s not exactly balmy, plus the lip of the roof he’s perched himself on is all ice cold concrete. An hour or so more of sitting here and Clint’s ass will be as numb as his fingers. Bucky doesn’t look up from where he’s cleaning his rifle. Who the hell brings a spare sniper rifle to a stakeout just to clean while they wait? Bucky Barnes, that’s who.

And the whole stakeout thing. What the fuck is that about? Sure, it’s not like they’re... what? Going steady? or whatever the hell Bucky would call it. Still, a couple team-ups that end with back-alley blowjobs, a few hookups, some movie and pizza nights scattered in between. It had to count for something. The kind of something that would perfectly justify Clint coming to a different goddamn conclusion when Bucky texted him an address and told him to show up on February fourteenth.

“It’s your fault for coming here in a uniform with no sleeves,” Bucky says, like he doesn’t eye up Clint’s biceps every time he wears said uniform. Clint grunts and glares at the leather jacket lying at Bucky’s feet, completely available and probably still holding some of that supersoldier body heat.

“Well, I didn’t know we’d be here all night,” Clint grumps. Bucky snorts, still not looking up from his gun.

“You sound like a twelve year old.”

“You sound like an asshole.”

Bucky looks up at that, probably because it’s a shade too harsh to be their usual banter. His brow creases behind the domino mask, like he’s just realized Clint is actively not having a good time.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Clint resolutely does not cave at the genuine concern in his voice. “Is everything okay with the team? Kate doing okay?” And fuck. That does get him a little bit.

“Kate’s fine. The team is… a bunch of children, but they’re fine. I guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine after what the twins and I put Cap through back in the day.” Clint shivers again, and this time Bucky notices.

“Yeah,” he says, wiping his hands off on his pants before scooping up his jacket. “Kid sidekicks are the worst, right? Dunno why anyone bothers with ‘em.” There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Clint doesn’t want his eyes to catch on it the way they do. He doesn’t want to spend his already shitty night pining over some guy who doesn’t care enough to bring him shitty candy, at least.

Bucky sits down on the roof ledge, leaving a good foot of space between them. Clint tries to fixate on that, but then Bucky is reaching over, enveloping him in super soldier warmth for just a moment as he wraps his jacket over Clint’s shoulders. It’s heavy. There’s probably layers of kevlar under the leather and it smells like gunpowder.

“You weren’t busy tonight,” Bucky states. He still has the domino mask on. There’s a billboard for a plastic surgeon hovering over this city block, and it’s throwing neon pink light over Bucky’s face, exaggerating how much the mask really hides.

“What else would I be doing?” Clint says, a little petulantly. Bucky doesn’t answer, instead turning to glance at the window they’ve been keeping an eye on. The mark still hasn’t shown up. Clint can’t even remember who it is they’re supposed to be watching for.

“Thought you’d have a hot date, maybe,” Bucky says, still staring at the window. Clint pulls the jacket tighter around him, wondering if he’s reading this right.

“Well, I do now that you called.” He bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his own, using the momentum as an excuse to scoot a little closer, to press their legs together as they dangle them off the rooftop. The corner of Bucky’s mouth starts tugging into a smile again, and Clint’s pretty sure the pink in his face is from more than just the weird lights.

The sounds of LA at night replace their conversation. Car horns, music spilling out from windows and storefronts. Clint almost thinks he hears Bucky start to talk a few times, but it’s hard to catch over the noise. He’s also trying very hard to stay cool and aloof, and not sneak furtive glances at the way the streetlights are making Bucky’s hair look soft and golden.

“What kind of flowers do you like?” Bucky says suddenly. He blurts it out in a rush, and Clint stares at him for a moment while he tries to parse out what exactly the question was.

“Um,” he says. “I- purple ones, I guess. Violets? Daisies are nice.” He’s never thought about it much before. He’s never been asked before.

“What about roses?” Bucky asks, flicking a piece of gravel off the ledge and watching it clatter down the side of the building. “Because the corner store was only selling roses today, and I just- I didn’t know if you liked them or not.”

Clint just stares at him. He doesn’t even notice he’s let the moment lapse into silence until Bucky turns to look at him.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, his shoulders slumping in a way that’s barely noticeable. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Can I take your mask off?” Clint interrupts. “It’s just that, I didn’t bring a mask and I’m kind of having a bitch of a time reading this situation.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, and now the pink in his cheeks is definitely not from the light. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky’s jacket slips off Clint’s shoulders as he reaches up. He peels the domino mask off, getting weirdly giddy about the way his fingers brush over Bucky’s cheekbones. Jesus christ. He’s had his hand down the guy’s pants behind an In-N-Out before. This shouldn’t be giving him butterflies.

Bucky’s eyes are dark in the odd lighting, and more intense than Clint was expecting. He sucks in a breath as Bucky blinks at him, reaching up to rub a little at his face where the mask had probably been chafing.

“Roses are good,” Clint says finally, and Bucky’s smile starts creeping back again. “Better on special days, though. Anniversaries and stuff. Chocolate is way better for Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says, and his eyes are kind of twinkling in the semi-darkness.

“Yeah,” Clint answers, a little breathless. Bucky leans forward, and for a moment Clint thinks he might be going in for a hug. His next thought is that he’s just about to be shoved right off the roof, but Bucky just gathers up his jacket and pulls it back over Clint’s shoulders. Their faces are inches away. Clint licks his lips and watches Bucky’s eyes drop down to his mouth.

He closes the distance, shuddering at the heat of Bucky’s mouth after shivering for so long in the cool night air. He tries for tongue, tries to press even closer and tangle his hands in Bucky’s hair, but Bucky seems set on keeping the kiss short and chaste. He doesn’t even run his fingers up Clint’s side like he likes to. Instead, he just dips his hands into his jacket pocket, pressing something round into Clint’s hand as he pulls away.

“Are these-” Clint starts to say, his voice getting a little choked up at the sight of holiday-edition pink foil.

“Cadbury creme eggs,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose in a way that’s so fond Clint loses his breath all over again. “I didn’t know what flowers you liked, but I’ve got your shitty taste in chocolate down.”

“Fuck you,” Clint says gleefully, but he’s already unwrapping one, stuffing it into his mouth whole just to watch Bucky’s face turn from fondness to disgust.

“Well I was going to offer, but now that I see what an animal you are-”

Clint cuts him off with a protesting noise, swallowing his mouthful of chocolate so he can grab Bucky by the front of his uniform and pull him into a properly searing kiss. The jacket slips off his shoulders again, and Bucky buries his laugh in Clint’s neck, nudging him gently backward until he’s lying on the edge of the rooftop. The leather and kevlar underneath him cuts the chill of the concrete, and the billboard lights cast a pink halo around Bucky as he pulls back. He holds Clint in place with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on,” he says, his breath a little ragged. “Let me just- I just wanna say it before we-” Bucky’s eyes keep drifting down to Clint’s lips, so he bites them, grinning as Bucky falters in his speech. He slides his leg up to hook around Bucky’s waist, which has the unfortunate effect of getting him talking again. “Will you go steady with me?” he says, and he’s already sliding their hips together, but there’s a sort of worried hopefulness in his eyes like he thought Clint could ever say no.

“I fucking knew you’d call it that,” he says, laughing as Bucky bites halfheartedly at his shoulder. He doesn’t move from there, though, and Clint realizes he didn’t give an answer. “Yes,” he huffs. “Yeah, obviously. Jesus, Buck.”

Bucky runs his fingers up Clint’s side then, rucking up his uniform shirt and making him shiver from the cold. Clint turns his head, baring his neck for Bucky to press messy kisses to, and he lets out a frustrated whine as his eyes land on a window across the street.

“Hey, Buck?” Clint says, swallowing a moan as Bucky nips at his ear. “Our, uh. Our guy is here.”

Bucky groans, pressing his forehead to the concrete by Clint’s head.

“If I just… shoot him in the head. Real quick. Will you let me fuck you after?”

“Probably not, no,” Clint admits, running his fingers down Bucky’s spine as he thinks. He arches into the touch, shifting enough to press a kiss to Clint’s cheek.

“Fuck it,” he says, and Clint can feel his smile against his cheek. Bucky shaved today. “We can’t interrogate him tonight. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Good call,” Clint says, and Bucky presses their lips together again, tugging Clint’s arm away from his back so he can tangle their fingers together.

[tocinephile]

The Morning After - Oscars 2019 Edition

My favourite photo from the 91st Academy Awards

My two favourite moments from last night’s Oscars are better represent in audio, those being Olivia Coleman’s speech when she won Best Actress over the heavily favoured Glenn Close, and when Rayka Zehtabchi exclaimed “I can’t believe a film on menstruation won an Oscar!”

It was fun keeping up with everyone’s reactions and remarks during the awards, and chiming in with many of my own even though I do, as always, find the speed of twitter a little breakneck. Also friends and colleagues who, knowing that I’m a big movie buff, came by or message me to discuss last night’s show.  At times we got animated enough that random passerbys and company VPs felt the need to chime in, which is the best gathering of the minds possible in my world.

Here’s a list of the winners and what I thought of each recipient:

Best Picture

“Black Panther” “BlacKkKlansman” “Bohemian Rhapsody” “The Favourite” “Green Book” (WINNER) “Roma” “A Star Is Born” “Vice”

While not entirely classy of Spike Lee to turn his back when Green Book was announced, he was able to joke about it later that every time a film about driving was pit against his own film, he would lose to it (Do the Right Thing lost to Driving Miss Daisy) My silver lining was knowing that TIFF audiences picked yet another Best Picture winner.  We do have quite a track record, don’t we? I really thought the Academy was going to make a different type of history in diversity by awarding a foreign film (Roma) with Best Picture. Or at least Black Panther, that would’ve been cool too.

Director

Spike Lee, “BlacKkKlansman” Pawel Pawlikowski, “Cold War” Yorgos Lanthimos, “The Favourite” Alfonso Cuarón, “Roma” (WINNER) Adam McKay, “Vice”

I agree with this win.

Lead Actress

Yalitza Aparicio, “Roma” Glenn Close, “The Wife” Olivia Colman, “The Favourite” (WINNER) Lady Gaga, “A Star Is Born” Melissa McCarthy, “Can You Ever Forgive Me?”

I was ecstatic to have guessed wrong in my Oscar picks for this category.  Both Olivia Coleman and Glenn Close were such strong contenders (as was Melissa McCarthy).  Glenn Close carried her film, Olivia Coleman elevated her already very good movie to another level.

Lead Actor

Christian Bale, “Vice” Bradley Cooper, “A Star Is Born” Willem Dafoe, “At Eternity’s Gate” Rami Malek, “Bohemian Rhapsody” (WINNER) Viggo Mortensen, “Green Book”

It’s nice that Rami Malek won, and I guessed he would. But I think Christian Bale was still better.

Original Song

“All The Stars” from “Black Panther” by Kendrick Lamar, SZA “I’ll Fight” from “RBG” by Diane Warren, Jennifer Hudson “The Place Where Lost Things Go” from “Mary Poppins Returns” by Marc Shaiman, Scott Wittman “Shallow” from “A Star Is Born” by Lady Gaga, Mark Ronson, Anthony Rossomando, Andrew Wyatt and Benjamin Rice (WINNER) “When A Cowboy Trades His Spurs For Wings” from “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs” by David Rawlings and Gillian Welch

I don’t think any other song legitimately had a chance. 

Original Score

“BlacKkKlansman,” Terence Blanchard “Black Panther,” Ludwig Goransson (WINNER) “If Beale Street Could Talk,” Nicholas Britell “Isle of Dogs,” Alexandre Desplat “Mary Poppins Returns,” Marc Shaiman, Scott Wittman

One last time I’ll say this: Where was First Man? After not seeing it on the list I really had no one to root for.

Adapted Screenplay

“The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” Joel Coen , Ethan Coen “BlacKkKlansman,” Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott, Spike Lee (WINNER) “Can You Ever Forgive Me?,” Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty ��If Beale Street Could Talk,” Barry Jenkins “A Star Is Born,” Eric Roth, Bradley Cooper, Will Fetters

I think a writing Oscar is an excellent award for Spike Lee to win. I’m rarely familiar with the original story vs its adaptation, therefore it’s hard to say who did the best job of adapting their source material.  That said, any way you slice it, BlacKkKlansman was a great script.

Original Screenplay

“The Favourite,” Deborah Davis, Tony McNamara “First Reformed,” Paul Schrader “Green Book,” Nick Vallelonga, Brian Currie, Peter Farrelly (WINNER) “Roma,” Alfonso Cuarón “Vice,” Adam McKay

While I put my money on Green Book, I can’t fathom why anyone would think it’s a better script than The Favourite nor Vice (I didn’t see First Reformed, and I think Roma is at least on par with Green Book) Destroyer was an original script right? I’m personally disappointed it wasn’t up for any writing awards.

Live Action Short Film

“Detainment,” Vincent Lambe “Fauve,” Jeremy Comte “Marguerite,” Marianne Farley “Mother,” Rodrigo Sorogoyen “Skin,” Guy Nattiv (WINNER)

I didn’t watch any of the shorts this year.

Visual Effects

“Avengers: Infinity War” “Christopher Robin” “First Man” (WINNER) “Ready Player One” “Solo: A Star Wars Story”

Again, please to be wrong in this category.  If anything I would have said First Man stood out more in audio achievement, but visual effects were also excellent and I’m glad the film got at least one Oscar because it is such a fine technical achievement.

Documentary Short Subject

“Black Sheep,” Ed Perkins “End Game,” Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman “Lifeboat,” Skye Fitzgerald “A Night at the Garden,” Marshall Curry “Period. End of Sentence.,” Rayka Zehtabchi (WINNER)

Amazing acceptance speech.  I want to see this now.

Animated Short

“Animal Behaviour,” Alison Snowden, David Fine “Bao,” Domee Shi (WINNER) “Late Afternoon,” Louise Bagnall “One Small Step,” Andrew Chesworth, Bobby Pontillas “Weekends,” Trevor Jimenez

Also a fine, inspiring acceptance speech by Domee Shi. I didn’t see any other shorts but I did watch Bao several times over and my Torontonian pride swelled when it won.  Growing up Asian, there’s a lot of embedded humour in this short as well, the husband character is still my absolute favourite. 

Animated Feature

“Incredibles 2,” Brad Bird “Isle of Dogs,” Wes Anderson “Mirai,” Mamoru Hosoda “Ralph Breaks the Internet,” Rich Moore, Phil Johnston “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse,” Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman (WINNER)

I really gotta see this movie.

Supporting Actor

Mahershala Ali, “Green Book” (WINNER) Adam Driver, “BlacKkKlansman” Sam Elliott, “A Star Is Born” Richard E. Grant, “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” Sam Rockwell, “Vice”

As expected. Though Richard E Grant is still my favourite, anyone catch his interview with Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet? And how he’s besties with Melissa McCarthy now? Love it.

Film Editing

“BlacKkKlansman,” Barry Alexander Brown “Bohemian Rhapsody,” John Ottman (WINNER) “Green Book,” Patrick J. Don Vito “The Favourite,” Yorgos Mavropsaridis “Vice,” Hank Corwin

Fixing up a film in editing doesn’t warrant it as best edited film of the year! I cannot believe Bohemain Rhapsody won in this category. Especially again films such as The Favourite and Vice, the former’s editing has a hand in shaping its visual mastery, the latter is entirely built from the art of editing. What the hell?

Foreign Language Film

“Capernaum” (Lebanon) “Cold War” (Poland) “Never Look Away” (Germany) “Roma” (Mexico) (WINNER) “Shoplifters” (Japan)

Capernaum was still better ;) 

Sound Mixing

“Black Panther,” Steve Boeddeker, Brandon Proctor and Peter Devlin “Bohemian Rhapsody,” Paul Massey, Tim Cavagin and John Casali (WINNER) “First Man,” Jon Taylor, Frank A. Montaño, Ai-Ling Lee and Mary H. Ellis “Roma,” Skip Lievsay, Craig Henighan and José Antonio García “A Star Is Born,” Tom Ozanich, Dean Zupancic, Jason Ruder and Steve Morrow

-and- 

Sound Editing

“Black Panther,” Benjamin A. Burtt, Steve Boeddeker “Bohemian Rhapsody,” John Warhurst (WINNER) “First Man,” Ai-Ling Lee, Mildred Iatrou Morgan “A Quiet Place,” Ethan Van der Ryn, Erik Aadahl “Roma,” Sergio Diaz, Skip Lievsay

Just because a film is about music doesn’t automatically qualify it for best sound! Have all the Academy voters gone out of their mind??? If you’re gonna go by that misguided logic then at least give it to A Star is  Born. It’s been a day and I still can’t fathom how anyone could think the sound editing of Bohemian Rhapsody is better than First Man, A Quiet Place, and Roma!

Cinematography

“Cold War,” Lukasz Zal “The Favourite,” Robbie Ryan “Never Look Away,” Caleb Deschanel “Roma,” Alfonso Cuarón (WINNER) “A Star Is Born,” Matthew Libatique

This was a pretty stacked category and Alfonso Cuaron did make a beautiful looking film. I don’t know if it was more striking that Cold War or The Favourite, but all in all he did deserve the win.

Production Design

“Black Panther,” Hannah Beachler (WINNER) “First Man,” Nathan Crowley, Kathy Lucas “The Favourite,” Fiona Crombie, Alice Felton “Mary Poppins Returns,” John Myhre, Gordon Sim “Roma,” Eugenio Caballero, Bárbara Enrı́quez

Fine. At least it wasn’t Roma, and I get that more often than not the period film usually wins it, so it’s cool to shake it up. The Favourite is still my fav.

Costume Design

“The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” Mary Zophres “Black Panther,” Ruth E. Carter (WINNER) “The Favourite,” Sandy Powell “Mary Poppins Returns,” Sandy Powell “Mary Queen of Scots,” Alexandra Byrne

Again, I like The Favourite more.

Makeup and Hairstyling

“Border,” Göran Lundström and Pamela Goldammer “Mary Queen of Scots,” Jenny Shircore, Marc Pilcher and Jessica Brooks “Vice,” Greg Cannom, Kate Biscoe and Patricia Dehaney (WINNER)

I’d have been surprised if anyone else won.

Documentary Feature

“Free Solo,” Jimmy Chin, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi (WINNER) “Hale County This Morning, This Evening,” RaMell Ross “Minding the Gap,” Bing Liu “Of Fathers and Sons,” Talal Derki “RBG,” Betsy West, Julie Cohen

:) That’s the one I picked.

Supporting Actress

Amy Adams, “Vice” Marina de Tavira, “Roma” Regina King, “If Beale Street Could Talk” (WINNER) Emma Stone, “The Favourite” Rachel Weisz, “The Favourite”

I preferred Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone’s performances. Amy Adams even.

So, that’s it for awards season 2019. I did pitiful in my predictions this year because I was way off on the technical awards, not to mention some big ones too like Best Picture. 

I’ll wrap it up by recommending that you watch First Man (with a good sound set up as it is superb technical, has a great score, and supporting actress Claire Foy), Destroyer (for its story and Nicole Kidman), The Hate U Give (that delivers a much stronger message than Green Book ever will), and Beautiful Boy (where supporting actor Timothee Chalamet actually has a sizable role).

[jacereviews]

Review: Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam

Television (Anime) Consumed in: English Sub Note: This review covers only the 50 episodes of TV Zeta, not A New Translation. For the sake of discussion I will have to cover the plot of Gundam 0079.

March 2nd, 1985 the second series of Gundam made its debut, Zeta Gundam. While the 0079 movies may have put Gundam on the map, it’s Zeta you still hear people discussing to this day. Revered by many as a classic, and one of the best mecha anime of the 80s, Zeta’s a big name, but does it hold up to it? Let’s rock.

PLOT: Universal Century 0087, the One-Year War between the Earth Federation and Zeon is long over, however peace is not to be had. In response to the remnants of Zeon, the federation has created a police-like military organization called the Titans to control Zeon and other spacenoid groups to prevent them from uprising and resisting the Federation’s control. To do this the Titans have been given borderline free reign to do whatever they see fit to do their job, no matter how atrocious it may be. In response to the unchecked reign of the titans, a resistance group called the Anti-Earth Union Group (or simply AEUG) has risen up to fight back. During an AEUG mission led the mysterious blonde pilot who always covers his eyes and his past named Quattro Bajeena to the colony Green Noa, a young man called Kamille Bidan steals a prototype Gundam Mk. II belonging to the Titans. The two cross paths and Kamille ultimately ends up joining Quattro on the Argama as it sails out to fight the Titans. From the get-go we have a story both similar and dissimilar to the prior series. Once again we have a young man piloting a Gundam on a white ship as it battles enemies, but instead of being a traditional soldier, we’re now following a rebellion. It takes awhile for the plot to get truly moving, but when it goes it goes. The Titans are a hateable cast of villains, unlike the Zeon of the first series the Titans are mostly irredeemable. The Titan cast is likeable at best and cartoonishly evil at worst. There was never a Ramba Ral style villain where it felt like that without the war they’d be our friend. As it goes on the plot gets more and more interesting with webs of betrayals, cyber-newtypes, and even the remnants of Zeon. Especially of note is the ending of Zeta, which without going into detail, is both narratively satisfying, thematically resonant, and quite shocking for a series aimed at young audiences. Very few series have an ending that really make me sit back and consider it like Zeta’s and that’s a good thing for Zeta. However the story is not without its flaws. The first 10 episodes can be kind of a drag, and the once again episodic format can lead to some weak and borderline filler episodes. I feel the series could’ve shaved off 10 episodes and be better for it. The biggest problem I had with Zeta however, is the amount of things that happen off-screen and details the series feels like it doesn’t need to give to the audience. Many a times I found myself confused or questioning stuff and just had to concluding that some change happened off-screen. Characters swap ships on both sides with little notice, and operations fly by with people hardly mentioning it. It made the whole experience way less cohesive. The series also had a few cases of trying to emulate the original series for no good reason, such as bringing kids on board the Argama half-way through. It made sense for the White Base to have kids but the Argama really didn’t need them and it just felt like poor decision making. However by the end I felt that the pluses far outshine the negatives and ultimately lead to this series being one hell of a ride. 

8/10, it’s good, messy, but good. Ending earns a whole point on its own.

CHARACTERS: Let’s start with Kamille Bidan himself. Kamille starts off as an obnoxious brat, a lot of my early enjoyment was seeing people beat the shit out of him, but he honestly grew on me, and by the end he’d gone through quite the character arc. He’s a good mc, but takes a damn long time to become that. Luckily he’s not alone. Let’s discuss the overly familiar looking Quattro Bajeena, doesn’t that scar look familiar? Might he be the Red Comet of Zeon? No he can’t be... But he is definitely a highlight of the series. The audience is invested in him from the get-go, and throughout the series we see him mentoring Kamille and doing some amazing stuff in his own right. He’s only human and has his flaws too, but whatever flaws they may be are something you forget when you see his speech during the Day of Dakar. Zeta’s also notable (by the audience and Kamille) for its sizeable female cast. Emma, Reccoa, and Fa Yuriy are all notable female characters put in powerful roles. Even if Reccoa’s later arc may inspire some ire from viewers they’re all great characters with their own interesting arcs. Another thing I’ve got to give Zeta a lot of credit is for how it used the returning characters from the first series. My boy Bright Noa shows up in episode 1, and many of the White Base members make some kind of reappearance (not really a spoiler because it’s in the opening). We get to see how they’ve lived their lives since the events of 0079, and they have many interesting scenes without it ever feeling like the series is too dependent on them (save for Bright). The problem I had with Zeta characters, is a lot of them act out and act irrationally. Now this isn’t necessarily bad character writing, but when someone acts out and takes a mech, does something stupid with it, and the next day is piloting a mech again it raises a few eyebrows. It can also get obnoxious with how many characters are being overly emotional twats, but I never found any of the Argama crew to be entirely irredeemable idiots. They were just flawed people in a stressful situation. The Titans on the other hand had what I felt to be a relatively lacking cast. While the character of Jerid and his varied love interests were all likeable, with Jerid himself being a standout likeable douche, aside from Jerid they didn’t get character arcs. Otherwise like Titans consisted of pitiable cyber-newtypes, hand-rubbing schemers, and straight up assholes. Aside from the cyber-newtypes none were very redeemable. The cyber-newtype Murasame Four was notable but limited by her limited screen time. They tried to make Paptimus Scirroco into a new Char, but he just felt way less interesting than Zeon’s red comet. The ultimate leader of the Titans, Jamitov, was just a bog standard evil politician. All in all only Jerid and Four were interesting characters, and only Jerid lived up to much potential. While you didn’t have any Garmas or Ramba Rals to make the war seem like a curse causing good people to die on either side, the Titans did fill the role of hateable villain well. Without going into too much detail, I do want to give a shoutout to Haman Karn. She was a rather engaging character but pretty much everything about her involves spoilers.

8/10, a lot of good characters, a lot of hateable villains, but most of the best characters are repeats from 0079.

VISUALS: Now probably the biggest improvement from 0079 is the animation. The noticeable errors of 0079 are gone, replaced with some truly gorgeous and fluid animation. Zeta has a lot of sakuga packing, and when it wants to move well it damn does. However when it doesn’t care it’ll freely use a lot of cheap tricks that the skilled eye will notice, but what doesn’t? The actual art of the series I’m less in love with. There were less moments of truly interesting visuals than 0079, but being okay is okay. The character designs were mostly fine, with a few (Jamaican in particular) being very dull. The mecha design is a mixed bag with me. The designs feel way less varied than 0079, with a lot of mechs feeling like the same skeleton with different overly ornate decorations. As cool as they looked I found myself just shaking my head and saying “Really?” at some of the more over-ornate designs. However the thing that bugged me the most was the Titans using Zeon-esque mechs. Being part of the Earth Federation you’d assume they’d use Federation mechs, but instead they use mechs designed like their original enemies. This didn’t make much sense outside of the meta-reasoning “Villain mechs in Gundam need the domed one-eye design.” However everything I’m saying is simply nitpicks. 

7/10, at worst we have functional art that suspends disbelief, at best we have gorgeous animation.

AUDIO: In all honesty, I don’t remember much of Zeta’s soundtrack which is an okay sign. What I do remember is pretty decent but nothing ever stuck out to me except the first opening. The first opening was a rather enjoyable song, the second was very mediocre. The ending theme for the whole time was entirely forgettable as you’re skipping to the next episode anyway. Sound design wise everything sounded fine and natural, despite sound effects in space. Voice acting was passable. Most of the voices fit well with no real stand out performances in my opinion. The voice of Bask Oum was notable for sounding overtly evil, so that was nice. However there were some voices that were not so great on minor characters. Every time the minor character Sydle talked I just wanted her to stop talking. Luckily she was incredibly minor.

6/10, functional with a demerit or two.

FINAL SCORE: 7/10

While not the perfect masterpiece many claim it to be, Zeta Gundam is something I’d personally recommend. With a powerful delivery of themes and a strong follow up to a good series, Zeta’s a fantastic watch. There’s a lot of great to be had here, though sadly the execution of the ideas is far from perfect. Held back by some bumps, Zeta nonetheless stands out as an excellent story animated quite well. The ending alone makes me want to raise the score even higher, but a show is more than it’s last five episodes. I now set out to continue my Gundam Quest with ZZ. I’ll probably get a lot of flack for rating the quintessential 80′s mecha so low, but don’t let a number understate how much I love this series.

[thespacequail]

Darling in the Franxx (ep. 15)

HOLY FREAKING...well, that certainly was a LOT that happened in only 24 minutes.  A lot of plot threads, a really good fight scene, a lot of new questions, but most importantly that thing where the OP plays during the climax, amazing.  There’s a lot going on here, I’ll probably miss some, but I’ll try. *warning* This is a very long post.

>”Don’t worry Hiro, we’ll be fine.”  All I’m thinking at this point is cut to black, Always Sunny in Philadelphia theme playing, “The gang fucking dies.”  It was a pretty good scene though, it showed me at least how much more I care about the cast now than I did back in episode 6, which if from “not at all” to “if you kill any main characters I will cry”.

>Huh, so the Nines have the guys and girls in swapped positions, that’s interesting, the guys also have holographic horns that look like 02′s, veeeerrry interesting...  But like, are they bad guys?  Are they neutral? What’s their angle here?  Every time they show up, they just raise more questions.

>Yup, all those dudes at the end of last episode got sucked dry by 02 (*lenny face*), Dr. Franxx you are still one sick puppy, but it’s hard to tell what your end goal is here, you may act like you care about 02′s well-being, but I don’t buy it, you have some ulterior motive and I WILL FIND IT. Eventually.  When it’s served up for all to see on a silver platter.  BUT THEN I WILL KNOW FOR SURE WHAT YOU ARE ON ABOUT!

>So Papa and his marry group of fucks are still being cryptic as all hell, what wish do they want that needs control of the Gran Crevasse? The heck is a Hringhorni? By pests do you mean Klaxxosaurs, humans, children, all of the above?  I don’t get it.  But the cut away to Streliza when Dr. Franxx says he wants a front row seat, now thats good editing.

>Now this is a good fight scene! Bright colors, understandable positions of every combatant, not breaking the 180* rule, even the CG wasn’t bad.  Where was this quality of animation earlier?  Doesn’t matter, we got to see everyone be badass and that’s good for me.

>And now for your requisite Plot ex Machina, an even bigger Klaxxosaur that no one has even heard of.  *sigh* I mean, you already burned out the Guttenberg class, and power creep is a thing, this was inevitable...fine...I’m fine...it’s fine...fight a fucking mountain, at least it looks cool.  That panning side shot of the internals of the Plantation, now that was really cool looking, I paused the video to look closer at it, highly detailed for a shot only a second long, I respect that.  Then Papa tells the red shirts to kamikaze the thing, which is messed up, but it confirms the whole fanaticism thing people have for him, cause despite knowing they’re being told to die outright, they do it anyway, and of course it does effectively nothing at all, good fucking job, you killed a bunch of kids for no evident reason, but you don’t care do you? I’m talking to a brick wall here, let’s just move the fight to a new backdrop yeah?

>Whoa, those are some gnarly horns 02, you feeling ok?  Who am I kidding, we all know the answer is “utterly distraught but refusing to show it”, this is actually a really cool design evolution for her, I dig it, but more on that later.

>Slight tangent, how close is the Garden to the briefing room?  How long did it take Hiro to calmly get there while a freaking war was taking place? And the bit with the mirror...like, I get it, it’s symbolic, but it fell kinda flat for me, was that really the only kick in the pants you could think to get Hiro down there? And not to mention after taking his sweet time he goes out and finds a training drone to get to 02.  THE LAYOUT OF THE PLANTATION MAKE NO SENSE UNLESS THE FIGHT WAS GOING ON FOR HOURS ON END!  AND WHO LET HIRO CASUALLY USE THE ELEVATOR IN THIS TIME OF CRISIS!? *ahem* Right, back to the battle.

>Hey look, it’s that old lady from the Zorome episode!  She contributes nothing to this scene!  Ok, that’s not entirely true, her being there reminds us what Zorome is fighting for, and how his resolve to fight for the adults is probably more than just orders to him.  The framing is also really cool, gives some nice perspective on the size of the robots, and the lady watching as Zorome’s robot (I dont know the specific name, and yeah it’s Miku’s too, but this shot is about Zorome) is pretty poignant, provides some payoff for that episode.

>My man Goro!  Finally fed up with all the bullshit and taking control.  Letting Hiro and Ichigo work this out together was the best way to go about this, and he did it so well, and the bit with Zorome/Miku telling him to stop trying to act all cool was so appropriate for them, lightening the mood before things got heavy.

>And boy does shit get heavy.  The mind melding thing was cool, and would you look at that, Ichigo is not a bad character, she just had to be shown what her actions meant, seeing that was a hard pill to swallow, but needed.  I really like how 02′s thought captions mirror Hiro’s, but are distorted, capital letters and numbers thrown in at random, it works for her in the state she’s in.  Now the fight between them was cool, but let’s be honest, WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DESIGN A ROBOT TO HAVE HAIR UNDER THE HELMET?  DID YOU EXPECT IT TO BREAK?  WHY DOES IT MOVE LIKE ACTUAL HAIR? EACH LOCK SHOULD BE THE SIZE OF A FREAKING SEDAN! *ahem* It’s just dumb, but whatever, helps distinguish her silhouette against all the Nines who’s robots look kinda similar.

>Before we get to the flashback of sad, it’s time for plot revelations! Yay!  Turns out the Klaxxo-cores are humans in some way!  Well that was...kinda unexpected, reminds me of the Anti-Spirals from Gurren Laggan a little bit.  I do like how the kids are trying to deny it, they don’t want to believe it’s possible, but here it is, right in front of your eyes.  And you know what else is in front of your eyes?  Papa blowing up Plantations to break the dome, cause he doesn’t give a fuck about any of you, that’s a fun pill to swallow and will definitely effect some character’s perceptions going forward.  “Release them from the cages of their bodies.”?  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? THIS SCENE IS CREEPY AS ALL HELL MAN!

>FLASHBACK TIME! I AM EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE!  But I was right about the blood thing! Yes, it was obvious, but still right! GOD BABY 02 YOU ARE MAKING ME SAD! *unintelligible sounds of despair* It’s just a really good scene ok? Then her horns shattering? Beautiful.  This is EXACTLY what I want from these characters, their interaction was so raw and good and the kiss, AUGH!

>OH SHIT THEY’RE PLAYING THE OPENING!  OH SHIT TRUE FORM UNLOCKED! WOOOOOOO!  I am fully aboard the hype train here.  Ichigo’s single tear was good, I think she’s come to terms with the fact Hiro wants to be with 02, that they are in love and she has to let him go, it hurts, but it’s for the best.  Still not a huge fan of the bird metaphor, but I will take it here cause we got character growth out of it, and I like that.

>A giant...hand? And the Nines knew about it because of course they do.  That is one hell of a cliffhanger, I think we are reaching that point, the point in every Trigger show where the plot does a 180* and things get W E I R D, and I am so ready for that.

Ok, that went on way longer than expected, but they packed a whole heck of a lot in this episode, so I had a lot I wanted to talk about.  I think this show has definitely “gotten good”  and I am super excited to see them start answering some questions as to what in the hell is going on here.

[slugmanslime]

Postcard to the Past

so way back in ye ole yonder day (september) the lovely and amazing @frauleinpflaume drew my OC aspara (and not to mention aspara and RONAN whomst i still dream abt) and ive been trying to buss it open in writing for her ever since

well guess what

it has been bussed

merry early christmas Ippy! I hope you like it-- I look forward to writing more for you!

(ill spare you the fanfic formatting lol but here’s the link to those few foriegn words-- https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9338368/1/Saiyan-Language-Dictionary-Glossary MegaKat has some cool stuff!)

“If I were one to judge, I would say it was a rather hearty drink. Tastes terrible, but in a homey kind of way.”

“It’s revolting, and that is the end of it.”

“Hey, hey, Nappa—Vegeta, you guys tried this shit yet?”

The elder duo groaned as Raditz chugged his third half-gallon of eggnog, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and effectively smearing the creamy concoction halfway across his cheek.

“My mate was kind enough to invite you two to this… event. Could you please keep the stupidity levels to a minimum?” The Prince inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, his nerves already grating a mere hour into the Christmas party. It had been months since the option to revive his late team members had become a reality, and it was taking some major getting used to for Vegeta. It seemed that death and 20+ years in hell had only significantly sobered his cohorts. Nappa was that much more outspoken and contemplative while his unwavering loyalty to his Prince had become rather tarnished; Raditz was simply happy to be alive again, making the most of his existence by eating good food, having good laughs, and attempting life on Earth. Sipping on his finger of whiskey (a Briefs distilled recipe), Vegeta absently wondered if the disappearance of his influence somehow caused a cataclysmic event inside Nappa and Raditz’s brains.

“… had too much booze.” Raditz chuckled, elbowing Nappa sloppily in the ribs. Nappa snorted in response, shaking his head and stroking his mustache like they shared a secret that Vegeta wasn’t in on. The shorter Saiyan sneered, tossing back his drink before setting the glass delicately on the coffee table. Technically, it was the fourth coffee table, and the first to be made from reinforced carbon fiber. Saiyan toddlerhood can be quite destructive, especially when the Saiyan father shares his son’s same mental capacity for rules.

“You two haven’t even been back a year and here you are, insulting me in my very home. Distasteful, disgraceful, and dangerous.” His eyes glinted with a spark of malicious design before it was extinguished once he remembered his company. Yes, perhaps many years ago when he was young, foolish, and bursting with pride, an insult would have been all it took to get his engines revving. But death and 20+ years changed Vegeta as well, it seemed.

“Lighten up, Vegeta!” Raditz clapped him on the back with a little more force than intended, driving the breath from him. He glared up at the foolish oaf of a warrior, who beamed down at him. The resemblance between he and his brother was striking from this angle, and Vegeta huffed, averting his gaze.

“I don’t… enjoy events. Too many people, not enough food.” So, what if this was just a party between friends and family? Bulma thrived on playing hostess during the holidays—the theme of it all was infectious to her. Oh yes, infecting every part of her life… their life… their sex life… Hazily, the Prince cleared his throat and caught Nappa’s eye. The twinkling lights were glinting weakly off of Nappa’s polished dome as he gazed up at a bundle of leaves and berries dangling in the door frame above the trio. “Bulma calls it ‘mistletoe’. Attempts to maul my face any time we’re near it, attempting to call it a Christmas tradition, the vulgar... Raditz, what in seven hells are you doing?”

Towering over him, thick locks of dark hair blotting out the light like a malevolent cloud of locust descending upon a ripe field of crops, Raditz grinned. In his left hand he grasped the bundle of mistletoe, snatched from the ceiling; in the other, miraculously, a full half-gallon of eggnog. “Didnya say it was tradition, ve’ho? Heeeyyy!” He couldn’t help but chortle at the blatantly affronted look plastered on Vegeta’s face. “Kot’tooorr, fri’va, it was a joke!” Raditz leaned even closer, squinting through his predatory grin. “Or was it?”

Two massive, calloused hands found their way to either of the two’s foreheads, separating them forcefully, but not with enough strength to injure or anger them. Nappa withdrew his hands sedately, plucking the mistletoe from Raditz’s fingers and delicately replacing it on it’s hook. “The Prince is mated, you randy moron.” As if to emphasize his point, Nappa swiped the eggnog from Raditz’s other stunned hand, taking a swill and immediately pulling a face. “But I hear that nice young lady with the blonde hair and large weapon is fair game.” As if on que, Lunch sneezed delicately into her cocoa in the next room, inciting a round of groans from its other inhabitants.

Raditz lit up like the one of the numerous, ornately decorated trees displayed around the compound, stumbling around the corner with a cheer and a hoop for more eggnog. The elder Saiyans watched him go, the air of mirth settling onto their spirits like a thick afghan, blocking out the cold respites of the past. Wordlessly, Vegeta reached for his empty glass, proffering it to Nappa who filled it with his smirched alcohol.

After a moment of silent contemplation on their own parts, Nappa tilted his carton towards Vegeta, managed to appear somber and immensely sentimental all in the same glance. “Merry Christmas from Vegeta-sei.”

Vegeta’s chest squirmed, the same way a worm does when it finds its way back into the muck, but for once it didn’t seem to bother him so badly.

“… I’ll drink to that.”

[denmarkduringthefall-blog]

Study tour in western Denmark

Last week, for “core course week” I got lots and lots at practice at sketching buildings. My “core course” here at DIS is Architectural Foundations, observing sketching buildings is one of the foundational skills they would like me to work on while I’m here. Monday, I practiced sketching at DIS with all the other architecture students. Above is a page from my sketchbook. I drew a “serial vision” of what it looked like to talk down Strøget, a shopping/walking street near school. 

Tuesday, I went back to the Open Air Museum with my architecture class. It was even more rainy this time... Here is one of my drawings from that visit, of a house with a green roof and an old beehive that was out front. 

I had the day off Wednesday and went on a tour of buildings in western Denmark from early Thursday morning to Saturday afternoon.

 I have included some pages from the program for that trip here. Each one has some pictures and some info. If you would like to read more about any of the places that I went, you can click on the name of the place as I have linked each one to its website. I have also included a few more pages from my sketchbook.

Thursday:  Kolding and Skanderborg

1. Trapholt Art Museum  (Kolding)

Though small, this museum was cool because the building was designed to blend with the natural space around it. It sits among some small hills, right on the edge of a fjord. The museum had one central corridor with smaller galleries branching off from it. I liked this design because I felt sure I had gotten to see everything. The drawing below is looking into one of the galleries from that central corridor. It seems that we got there in between major shows because a few of the galleries were closed at the time. That being said, the art that was up and visible was pretty cool. I especially liked “Think Bigger” a show by Michael Kvium, and a bunch of chairs they had on display from various famous architects and designers. 

2. Koldinghus (Kolding)

Koldinghouse is a fortress that partially burned in 1808. After the fire, the inside was given a modern renovation. Now it is a museum about the history of the fortress and the town. When we visited, they had a temporary exhibition called Beyond Icons. It was arranged by design students, each one chose an “iconic” object that they appreciated and made a small display for it. I really liked this show, and the inside of the fortress was a beautiful mix of old and new.  

3. SDU Student Center (Skanderborg)

Though I saw some cool stuff at each of the museums, This building was absolutely my favorite of the day (possibly of the entire trip). The student center is shaped like a triangle (and you will find more triangles everywhere you look, from the skylights to the window shades) with a central open area that is also shaped like a triangle but is turned a few degrees on each level (shown in orange on the diagram below). This is difficult to imagine unless you are in the space, but it has a very cool effect on the space. The railings of each level crisscross each other when you look down from the top, and this means that much more natural light can make its way onto the various floors (compared to how it would be if the open area in the center were the same on each level). There are also outdoor balconies with plant-walls and modular furniture. It is definitely a place where I would be happy to study and hang out. 

(Above: View from the top floor in SDU campus center )

We stayed in a hostel in Skanderborg for the night. We ate at a restaurant called  Nicoli Café, which was also an art house cinema. The food was very tasty but sadly we didn’t watch a movie there. 

Friday: Århus

Åarhus is the second largest city in Denmark. This year, it is one of two European Culture Capitals   (the other is Pafos, Cyprus), which means there are a lot of events and things going on there. I really liked Århus, and I hope that I get a chance to go back.

4. DOKK1

Our first day in Århus, we went to DOKK1 library and citizen center. This was a really cool, multi-functional space. The first floor is a library, and throughout there are areas to work, relax,  or play (there are many different play spaces and toys that accommodate kids of all ages). There are also offices and various spots for exhibitions of art and other projects. The building itself had an interesting but somewhat confusing layout.

2. Dome of Visions 

After DOKK1 we got to explore Århus on our own for a little bit. I went to the Dome of Visions, which sits right on the harbor. The Dome of Visions was just transported to Århus after spending two years in Copenhagen. Surrounded by community garden plots and made mainly of glass, it is hard for me to imagine a structure I would have liked more than this. It was sunny and cozy at the coffee bar inside, filled with lush plants and comfy couches. I would love to build something similar in the near future. I didn’t draw it, but I took lots of pictures! 

4. Skanderup Kirke 

Skanderup Kirke is a little church on a hill, it is one of the oldest churches in Denmark (built in 1050) . From its location, you can see out over much of the town and a large lake. It’s quite lovely. The inside of the church is almost as lovely as the view. It is made of a soft white chalk and it is decorated with hand-drawn patterns in nice warm browns and reds. I felt very calm and comfortable in there. 

Friday night, we stayed in a hostel on the edge of the lake that we could see from Skanderup Kirke! I went canoeing for the first time ever there. It was raining a little when we set out, but it cleared up fairly fast, and we got to see a vibrant rainbow stretched over the shore. Our cabin was cute and the dinner at the hostel was very tasty. After dinner, our group had a bonfire and made Snobrød. Snobrød is like the Danish version of s’mores in that you traditionally cook it on a stick over the campfire. That is where the similarities stop. It’s just bread dough which you wind in a spiral around your stick, nothing overly sweet. 

Saurday: Århus

1. City Hall

Saturday morning we headed back to the Århus. Our first stop was city hall. It is a really beautiful art-deco-like building from the 40′s. We didn’t get to go up in any of the upper floors or in the clock tower. But we did get to spend some time in the main event hall. It is a large open room with one full wall of windows on one side, and a collapsible wall made of brightly colored textiles on the other. The lights are these cool hexagonal boxes made of brass and glass which hang from the balconies of the upper floors. The room has a high vaulted ceiling with yet more windows in it. 

2. ARoS Art Museum of Modern Art

ARos is a fantastic museum. The layout made it easy to be certain that I saw everything, but I would still like to go back for a second visit. The building itself is supposedly designed to represent a trip from hell to heaven. There is an exhibition called 9 spaces (a reference to the 9 circles of hell) in the basement.  You then travel up a huge spiral staircase through the museum, until you reach the roof terrace and the rainbow halo on top which is meant to represent heaven.  The designers clearly liked playing with contrasting elements like this. The outside of the building is a red cube while the inside is all white curves. 

I loved so much of the work that I saw at ARoS that it would be hard for me to pick a favorite. I did, however, think that the 9 spaces exhibition was particularly cool and unique. I also think that they have organized the art throughout the museum very well. 

After the museum, we stopped by the Århus street food center to grab some lunch (I got a pulled duck sandwich, it was o.k.) and headed home. 

[mapleleafstrash]

Shades – Auston Matthews

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first ever imagine I’ve posted and I hope you like it! I need some ideas for more writing so feel free to submit me with any ideas or requests you might have!

Y/B/N –> your brothers name (if you don’t have a brother just improvise)

Characters: Auston Matthews

Words: 1,869

Warnings: n/a

“Can you at least try to look like you’re having a good time? You’re dampening the mood Y/N.”

Looking towards your older brother, you sighed. Y/B/N thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the end of your university exams with a trip out to see him in Toronto. Unfortunately, your parents agreed. While your hometown was only just an hour away from the big city, your brother had made the move out to Toronto due to his work.

Normally you would’ve been absolutely stoked over the idea of spending the entire weekend in Ontario’s biggest city, but this time that wasn’t the case. Y/B/N had wanted to participate in any and all possible touristy activities, despite the fact that he not only lived here, but it wasn’t like this was your first time in Toronto either.

You hadn’t minded going to Ripley’s Aquarium, as you still hadn’t visited since it had opened a few summers from before. But the whole King Street, Eaton Centre, and Dundas Square exhibition had been a bit much. What was even worse though, was the fact that Y/B/N had failed to mention that he had gotten tickets for the both of you to attend the Blue Jays game.

You hated baseball.

The cherry on top however, was where your seats were.

“How much were these?” you questioned your brother, once you’d finally reached your seats after having to walk all the way down to the bottom of the stadium.

Y/B/N shrugged it off, “don’t worry about it. Just think of it as a company tax write off,”

You rolled your eyes, of course it was.

Crossing your arms against your chest, you shimmied down into your seat, trying to get comfortable. Y/B/N held out some peanut M&M’s towards you, but you promptly declined.

“How cool is this?” your brother exclaimed, as he pulled out his phone to take some photos of the field.

Turning away from him, you pursed your lips as you waited for the game to start. ‘Why couldn’t we have just gone up the CN Tower, and then maybe have gone out to a bar or something?’ you thought. That idea seemed much more tolerable, enjoyable even. Instead here you were, sitting in the first row behind the batting plate, while Y/B/N munched obnoxiously on his candy and kept taking photos of everything and anything to share onto social media.

“And here she is, miss little ungrateful,” your brother’s voice sounded, causing you to turn back towards him and immediately swat at his phone that he had decided to shove in your face.

“Knock it off Y/B/N,” you complained, pushing him away from you, causing him to chuckle. “You better not post that either,” you added, and he laughed, “too little too late,”

You groaned, shaking your head. When could this day be over?

“Um, excuse me?”

Y/B/N and you both turned to your right to see a group of three guys, or well two guys and an older gentleman, standing in the aisle. Motioning down to the seat next to you, the one guy nodded towards your bag. You reached over and grabbed your purse that you had placed there only minutes before.

“Sorry,” you apologized and he smiled, “no worries,”

Once everyone had taken their seats, you slid over the left of your seat, partially touching Y/B/N so you weren’t in the space of the stranger sitting next to you. The guy looked to be around your age, maybe even younger, and was sporting a grey hoodie and a blue Blue Jays cap. You couldn’t deny that he was somewhat cute, but it was his friend in the middle who had caught your attention.

Wearing a jean jacket, and a white Blue Jays cap, the guy was also wearing sunglasses. You thought that was strange, considering it had been overcast all day and because the dome where the game was being played was also closed. Was he high or something?

Deciding to ignore it, your attention was then focused onto the game starting in front of you. About three innings went by until you started getting suspicious. You had noticed that many of the spectators around you had been speaking in hush whispers and that as each inning went by, Shades, as you had nick-named him, had been sinking further and further into his seat.

“You okay Aus?” the guys seated next to you asked him.

Shades nodded, “just trying to relax,”

Aus?

What the hell kind of name was that? You liked Shades better.

“I think I’m going to head to the washroom,” Shades then told his friend.

At hearing this, the older man, who I had just noticed looked extremely muscular, tapped Shades on the shoulder, “Do you need me to come with you?”

“Nah, it’s fine Tom. I should be good. Just enjoy the baseball,” Shades said, patting the man on his shoulder as he stood up and made his way back up the stairs

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was that man, or Tom rather, an undercover security guard?

Not that you were a renowned super-sleuth, but you were definitely curious and wanted to get to the bottom of this. Was this Shades person an important figure, a celebrity maybe? He must’ve been if he needed his own personal security.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes found your brothers concerned ones, “are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded, “yeah, why?”

“You just seemed to space out there,” Y/B/N explained.

You sent him a small apologetic smile, “sorry,”

“Not a big fan?”

You turned your head towards Shades’ friend, who had spoken directly to you.

You simply shrugged, “I feel like there are more entertaining sports to spend my time watching,” you explained, causing the boy next to you to chuckle.

“I couldn’t agree more, but hey, my friend wanted to come and I couldn’t say no to free tickets,” he told you.

“That’s cool,” you responded, “especially with seats this close,”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “a few of the perks Auston gets now,”

I cocked my head and the guy suddenly firmed his lips together and looked very nervous.

“Must be nice,” you said, before whipping your head back towards the field as the crowd suddenly erupted, along with Y/B/N, due to someone from the Blue Jays hitting a home run.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” you told your brother once the stadium calmed down.

Y/B/N sent you a thumbs-up, never taking his eyes off the game causing you to roll your eyes. Sending the guy next to you a smile as you walked by, you began your trek up the stairs. Once you reached the summit, you walked over to the closest food vendor, and kindly asked for a bottle of iced tea.

“Oh my god, did you hear Auston is here? Like in the building?” You heard a teenage girl say as she walked by you with her friend.

You cocked an eyebrow, there was that name again. You watched the pair walk past you, and shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Do you think we could find him?” Her friend asked, sounding very excited.

The first girl snorted, “He’s all over social media. He’s wearing these stupid sunglasses and a white hat, like you can’t miss him,”

“I can’t believe we’re going to meet Auston Matthews!” her friend exclaimed.

Then it hit you. You almost wanted to slap yourself silly. Shades was Auston Matthews! How the hell had you missed that? How the hell had Y/B/N missed that? He was a crazy Leafs fan, which was the only reason you actually knew who Auston Matthews was.

Once you turned back to walk back down towards your aisle’s section, a massive group of not only girls, but boys included stood, effectively blocking the staircase.

“He’s here in section 114, and this is the only way for him to get down to his seat,” you heard a voice in the group mention and you sighed.

This was ridiculous. You were sitting one seat over from him and he just seemed like a normal guy. No wonder he had looked so uncomfortable in his seat. You would be too.

Just as you were about to barge through the crowd, you noticed a familiar figure with an unforgettable pair of shades walk around the corner. Not wanting him to fall into the waiting trap, you fast-walked, near jogged towards Auston. You noticed his eyebrows rise in confusion as you barrelled towards him, “hey, you’re the girl from my row,” he spoke.

You nodded and before he could open his mouth to say anything else, you placed your own finger against your lips, motioning to him to stay silent. You grabbed onto his jean jacket sleeve, and pulled him around the back of an empty food vendor.

Auston looked towards you questionably as you poked your head around the corner, to make sure no one had spotted you.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

You then pointed back to the large group of people perched at the top of your section, “all of those people are waiting for you,” you explained.

His face paled and his eyes fell, “oh,”

“I just thought I’d let you know before you walked into that. You seemed to be at least trying to be incognito earlier so I figured it would be best to warn you,” you said.

“Ah, so you knew who I was,” Auston spoke and you shook your head.

“Honestly no, but I thought you were definitely acting suspicious. The only reason why I found out who you were was because I overheard a couple girls talking about you while I was grabbing a drink,” you admitted. “To be honest, I only know you’re a hockey player because my brother loves the Leafs and has mentioned you a few times. And if it makes you feel better, he didn’t seem to notice you and he’s considered a die-hard fan,” you continued, chuckling a bit.

Auston seemed to smile a bit at that, “well thanks for the warning then,”

Your lips curved upwards, “it was no biggie, I mean it’s not like I can get back to my seat now anyways,” you explained, referring to the growing mob just nearby.

Auston pursed his lips, “sorry about that,”

You shrugged, “I’m not much of a baseball fan anyways,”

“But still,” Auston trailed off, “what about your brother?”

You waved it off, “he probably won’t realize I haven’t come back until the games over in all honesty,”

Auston smirked, “well considering we’re both stuck, want to hide out with me until we can get out of here? Maybe head over to the VIP bar across the way?” he asked, pointing towards a door nearby that connected to the exclusive restaurant.

“You going to buy me a drink Shades?” You asked him playfully, raising your eyebrow.

“Shades?” he questioned and you laughed, pointing up towards your temple and Auston followed suit, chuckling as he pulled his sunglasses off.

He grinned, “I’ll buy you whatever you want, uh,”

“Y/N” you said, reaching your hand out to shake his. He shook back.

Suddenly you weren’t so annoyed Y/B/N had brought you to a baseball game after all.

[groundbreaking-science]

1.2 Life, the World, and Genki (pt 2)

The river valley near Central City in optical light and ki.

6) I have to admit, I was going to leave out this explanation. I assumed it followed from previous discussion of animal ki, but my arm was twisted. I have drawn the grass nearby with a few brown spots in ki that are not visible otherwise, though this is laziness on my behalf - there should be many, many more. I am, of course, speaking of bugs and other usually reviled creepy crawlies.

My home in Satan City Age 797, with Goten (30) and Trunks (31) joined by Marron (26), the daughter of my father's closest friend and close friend to Goten and Trunks in her own right.

Gohan:  Are there any sides to ki people might not immediately think of? Trunks:  So not flying then? Goten:  Always the flying. Gonna be soooo many flat people when this book's released. Trunks:  Goten... Goten:  What? It's true! Gohan:  I'm adding disclaimers to the chapter. Trunks:  Good. I can swing you our lawyers if need be. Marron: Spiders. Trunks:  Come again? Marron:  An answer to the actual question? Spiders. Finding spiders. Goten:  Oh, here we go. Gohan:  Ah, I'll be covering ki-sense early. Marron:  Okay but that'll be about people and birds and lions and--   Trunks:  Lions?! Marron:  --Yeah cool animals - or cute dogs or something - no one ever talks about the bugs-- Goten: (laughing) Marron:  --stop laughing you reprobate this is your fault! Gohan: I think I know where you're going with this but for the camera can you explain? Marron:  Your delightful brother - I told you to stop - when we were little but he was old enough to know better, I was terrified of spiders. Scream-the-house-down-terrified. Trunks:  You weren't that bad. Marron:  I had nightmares! When I was just learning how to read ki, he thought it would be hilarious to play a game to test me. Goten: I was helping! Marron:  The game involved him finding random animals and asking me to guess what they were. Lizards, frogs, mice, all that. I can deal with that. Goten:  In my defence you were enjoying yourself - you said it was really fun. Marron:  I don't care what you claim I said! The point is, the last animal he got me was really tricky, and I spent ages feeling it out just, what the hell is that? Its ki was so sharp and mechanical, silent? Gaahhhh I'm creeping myself out just thinking-- Trunks:  What was it Mar, what was it? Tell the nice people-- Marron:  A TARANTULA. [[Goten and Trunks both laugh]] Marron:  You were tormenting a five-year-old! It's nothing to be proud of and that's not even the end of it. If at any point they both decided I was irritating them by merely existing they'd shout-- Goten:  FIVE! Trunks:  Six? Goten:  Oh yeah, SIX! Marron:  Oh my god you asses-- they'd shout The Number. Gohan: And that number is? Marron:  The number of spiders in the room. That freaking childhood trauma seared the ki signature of a spider into my brain to the point I can count them within moments of entering a room. They conditioned me to do it. And it is six. I hate you both so much and I. Hate. Spiders.

For those like Marron who have a... strong dislike... of spiders and such, sensing ki will confirm your worst fears. Sometimes ignorance is truly bliss. I don't remember learning to sense ki, the realisation of being able to sense scary things coming slowly or not registering within me enough to remember. The experience clearly stayed with Marron. For me the world has always looked like this (and just to confirm the old adage, 'you're never more than six feet away from a rat in a city' is near-enough true). An ant nest or beehive seems like a large fuzzy cluster of busy ki rather than any individuals particularly standing out. In other cases though if you are truly quiet and on alert, you can sense the movement and blunt intention of bugs. Predators like spiders do have the same sharp purpose as other carnivorous animals, but their ki is simple in the impression it leaves.

I don't find spider ki particularly intimidating and I think that is Marron's stark fear of them colouring her sense subconsciously. If you have a fear of any animal and especially a fear of bugs, I recommend spending a lot of time on this aspect of ki-sensing as you develop your technique. If your entire attention is taken up finding bugs around you to be fearful of and flinching at every movement you'll never progress. Still, this apprehension can be controlled and never bothers Marron in situations that require her full attention.

7) The fuzzy nature of ant nests is true of human cities, although human individuality is detectable. Central City itself is not visible from The Spot being some four hundred miles away. Nevertheless, it is still perfectly detectable and the subtle effect of the city can be sensed all across the globe. I've exaggerated the brightness a little, the combined aura of all the inhabitants being extremely faint at the distances I've painted it to. I've also included some of the turbulent structure detectable within ki. Ki in aura like this is not affected by the wind, the ki only very rarely interacting with the physical world around it. It is the intent a ki-user gives ki that will allow an interaction, but more in later chapters. The ki from the city therefore extends not as smoke blowing in the wind nor as a dome but as fat disk, extending equally upward into the atmosphere and downward into the earth, tapering off as it travels away from the city. There are denser regions as the ki swirls, pulled together not by the wind but more of its own meandering. The view of ki is not stopped by rocks on the surface either, impeded only by the ki of the plants on the hill close to me. As an aside, whilst ki sense is an enhancement to other senses, travelling using ki-sense alone in a completely dead local environment would be unwise. Without any ki signatures registering you will smack into inanimate objects. This is the reason we try to fight in remote areas if possible. We try to minimise loss of any form of life in this way yes, but in truth we want to have an unobstructed view of our opponent's ki.

8) From The Spot, West city is near 5,000km away, a fair distance. I've coloured the ki differently to represent the difference in feel of West City's ki. The true contrast wouldn't be stark enough to appear as a different species, but this illustration makes the distinction clearer. If anyone has visited both cities you'd find their reputation precedes them - West is on average far more brash and lively than the quiet, cultured and sophisticated Central. Their unique nature is reflected in the feelings of their ki and even in the turbulence - West city's ki is, on average at least, more erratic.

The ki of the city is still detectable and strong even at a distance (the population being larger by a factor of three than Central) but from my vantage point doesn't appear to extend as high in the atmosphere. In reality the ki is forming the same fat disc as Central City, but it appears sunk into the ground due to the curvature of the Earth. Trace the shape back to the centre of the ki impression and you will find ground-level in West City. The true lack of impedance caused by the non-living landscape means no matter where I am on Earth I can see these cities.

These large population centres then make navigation around the globe extremely simple for ki-users. I doubt any part of the planet is unfamiliar to me now, from high up enough at least, but I can always find my way home by triangulating the main cities and setting a course. Having a constant sense of the near-spherical nature of the planet is useful but somewhat strange, and can cause trouble.

I taught my wife Videl how to use and sense ki when we were sixteen. She took to the skill surprisingly quickly, though it was a number of years before her acuity in ki-sense grew consciously. A few days before our wedding I visited Videl's home to find her distracted, restless. She got worse and worse throughout the day, eventually settling on the couch stock-still, only flinching. Videl denied anything was wrong, saying it was nothing serious, and of course my paranoia feared the worst. She must have cold feet but was unable to tell me. I asked her father, Mr Satan, if he knew anything was wrong which started him panicking... This culminating in him drinking to steady his nerves, me compulsively drinking coffee, and the start of a joint idea to write a letter showing that I understood her decision. This morphed from a letter into a speech (the letter rendered unreadable by the caffeine-induced shaking of my hand) which I regaled to her at speed over dinner, Mr Satan interjecting sagely when I fumbled my lines. She stopped me halfway through (I suspect she was patient for as long as she could bear and thought I was near the end) asking where I had got the baffling idea she didn't want to marry me from. After I stammered a weak explanation she laughed - not unkindly - then admitted she should have been honest but was embarrassed.

After a confused description of her own we worked out she was having side-effects of ki sensing. It was severe vertigo induced by our friends Trunks and his father Vegeta in West City on the other side of the planet. She had always been able to vaguely sense our friends in West City, but this was the first time she'd been able to appreciate the distance. She felt every metre of that twelve thousand kilometres as though she was dangling helplessly over a bore-shaft through the centre of the Earth. It took Videl a week or so to overcome the sensation, it coming in waves. Though thankfully on the day of our wedding our friends were with us and so the vertigo lifted for a time!

9) It is not just Earth's population centres that can be useful to navigate by. Outside the Earth's atmosphere one can use stars with your eyes and other planets to orient yourself. I've highlighted planet New Namek here. I'll admit the planet wasn't in this direction when I was painting, this image painted in June and New Namek rising in daylight hours in the northern Autumn months instead. I hope you'll forgive inaccuracy for the the point I wish to illustrate. As one's ki-sense develops, sensitivity to intensity appears first before the ability to pinpoint position, then depth. With practise then, the faint glow in the sky of other planets will start to nag at your senses. At first it will feel like a blip in the atmosphere, maybe the weather. It's only when your ability to resolve the ki down to a blurry point will you resolve the planet along with it.

Your ki-sense is not limited by the power of the eye. I'm mildly farsighted but not that farsighted! Looking above at the planet I am able to resolve the townships on New Namek itself in ki. If I was looking for someone I knew well I may be able to lock onto them. Those with the greatest abilities could detect - and crucially pinpoint - a spider twitch from the other side of the Universe. (I'm sure one day that will be Marron readying for a crusade against them.) You may expect the underlying ki of Namekians to be distinctively different to Earthlings, they are alien after all. And that is true to an extent. Although, there are far more similarities than differences, reflecting both species' high socialisation and capacity to manipulate ki.

10) My final label you may expect, since I've been approximately moving from faintest to brightest, would be the largest source of ki in the scene. And at that particular moment you'd be correct. The blue ki signature is extremely bright and the same colour as New Namek for good reason. It is the ki signature of Piccolo, my kidnapper and first official teacher. Piccolo is not hidden in the grass here with the deer, but at Yunzebitto Heights in the North of the planet. We're viewing his ki signature right through the Earth. At the time I drew this he was training and his energy output was over a hundred times that of the entirety of New Namek. Namekians have retained their ki sense over the years and are on average many times stronger than a Earthling, however sadly there are only a few hundred Namekians left in the Universe. Piccolo's strength is impressive, his what we call 'power level' is elevated here, although even when not training his lower 'base' power level is still easily detectable for me. It was the strong power levels of Trunks and Vegeta that induced Videl's vertigo. We shall cover the raising and lowering of ki intensity in the next chapter.

Because of their elevated intensity I am constantly subconsciously attending to the ki signatures of friends and family. I always noticed whenever my father left the planet, or can detect the moment Pan suppresses her power ready to try and sneak up on me (I won't know when she was planning to ambush me or from where, but I'll be as ready as I can)! There is very little privacy amongst advanced ki-users, sadly. The ability to track and be tracked, even when unintended, is a fact of life for us and one of well-argued downsides of publishing this book. Imagine knowing from six hundred miles away your little brother is sneaking off to the city at night... and not phoning your mother like you promised you would? Sorry Mom, I lied. We are all co-conspirators of the worst kind.

So far I have spoken only of ki. The last of the labelled ki signatures in particular necessitates now making a distinction between different types of ki. From points 1-8 (and mostly 9) I was speaking of a type of ki known as 'genki'. This is ki generated from the body alone. Genki is literally 'life energy' itself. So far I have only discussed ki as life energy, so what's different between genki and other types? Most Earth-based ki-users never progressed beyond using their own body's ki, their genki, to marginally bolster their strength, and ki-sensing isn't dependent on the amount of ki one has. Thus ki was genki and no distinction was ever made. Only the most advanced users were able to harness greater strength beyond what would make sense from that great law of physics, "conservation of energy". It's only as we progress to modern day and power-levels have grown considerably that a distinction between the ability to use one's genki and the ability to amplify one's genki was necessary. This amplification (truthfully a conversion from genki into another form) is a skill to develop and a very important one to maintain.  

Confusingly, my friends and family never traditionally had a specific name for this converted ki, using 'ki' for both types and referring to genki when context wasn't sufficient. It is only recently that, from a fortuitous combination of attempting to teach Pan and Bra in a structured manner, Goten, Trunks and Gotenks needing to record notes for themselves and this research that precise terminology even begun to appear. Now if a specific term is needed we use "banoki" or "field ki" for the extra energy that breaks the laws of physics. The properties of field ki and genki do differ, which I will explain, along with the choice of the word "ba/field", towards the end of the chapter.

The kids (or 'kids' - gosh, Bra is the youngest and yet twenty-four years old now) have their own language and I've borrowed nearly all of their terminology for this textbook. I claimed it was so I could keep abreast of how Pan is training her students to support her, though in reality it was so I could keep up with what in the name Pan was talking about. Joining the kids on sorties can leave you lagging as they work as a terrifying unit, throwing around jargon-filled updates and commands that leave you dizzy. The increased terminology, although less accessible, allows for subtle distinctions to be made between techniques and more nuanced discussion than I had growing up. I was fortunate enough that Videl was an extremely gifted martial artist before I taught her how to use ki, and even then I taught her all backwards (rather dangerously teaching her to fly first). Now Pan has shown she can train novices extremely efficiently. "It's all about the grammar and vocab," she sings to students on their first session as she passes out notebooks and pens, far from the mystical adventure they were expecting.

You may want to start taking notes, too. We're going to learn some science next.

next previous first contents

[whichchick]

All About Pie

I make very, very good apple pie. My mother made very, very good apple pie, won prizes for it at the fair. I don't eat bought-pie because that's paying good money for craptacular pie when I can do better myself. Now, I take my pie way, way too seriously. I'm also pedantic, wordy, and a big fan of Winesap apples. However, much of my advice, once you wade through the pedantic part, will probably be of some use to you, even if you insist on using nonstandard apples. All other fruit pies are modifications of apple, and the modifications are at the very bottom of this document.

Making good pie is like being able to play the piano. It takes some practice. If you try to make pie three or four times, have three or four less-than-perfect pies, and then quit because it's "too difficult", that's like sitting down at a piano three or four times in your life and being disappointed that you can't play Chopin's Concerto No. 2 in F minor like a pro. D'oh.

The ingredient missing from most pie crust recipes is practice. Learning to make very good pie will probably take you around twenty not-so-perfect pies, the vast bulk of which will be edible. You will learn most effectively if you can make at least one pie per week.

Here's how I make apple pie (read entire set of directions and commentary first before attempting to make pie):

Preheat oven to 350.

For 1 crust (you need two, a top and a bottom, so you will be making this twice):

1.5 cups white flour (I use Gold Medal all purpose. Have never tried the 'for baking' kind.)

.5 cup lard (Prior to 2004, I used blue Crisco unflavored shortening.  In 2004, and again in 2007, Crisco was reformulated and it doesn’t work like it used to because trans-fats were what made it great.  Lard is predictable,behaves better than modern Crisco, and works unless you’re vegan or abstaining from pork.  If either of those apply, Crisco or similar is your best bet.)

half a teaspoon salt

Mash all the above together in a good-sized bowl using a fork or a pastry blender. Mash together well. You want something that looks rather like cornmeal and is all evenly mixed.

Add 3-4 Tablespoons ICE COLD WATER.

The cool water from your tap is not good enough. Please run a glass of water, add ice, and let it sit for ten minutes, then measure from that. Do NOT just use cool water from the tap. It makes a difference. I'm not kidding.

Start with the low end of the water and stir. Dough should just hold together in two or three big lumps when you've added the water. Stir it fifteen, twenty strokes in a 'round and round' pattern with a fork before deciding if it 'holds together' or not -- it holds together better with some stirring, so your initial assessment might be off.

If you add too much water, the dough will be too sticky. If you add too little water, the dough will be too fragile and won't hold together. This takes some practice and it varies depending on relative humidity, how much water's in your flour, etc. There is no way to fix the dough once you've added too much water. You also can't work the dough a whole lot or it will get tough, so don't overstir.

Er. I should mention that this is *not* a friendly pie dough. This is a melt-in-your-mouth pie dough that will impress eighty-year-old ladies from the heart of pie country. Said old ladies will tear up on having a bite and say, in their wavery old-lady voices, "I didn't think anyone still knew how to make crust like this." If you want friendly, easy pie crust, go somewhere else. This is not that. This is the OTHER kind of pie crust, the kind that led to people using inferior bought pie crust because they couldn't hack making this kind.

Turn out the dough, press into a flattened beef-patty shape with your fingers, and roll it out with your well-floured rolling pin. You do NOT get a second chance at this. If you screw the pooch and make some ovular thing that won't fit your pie tin, you are not permitted to wad it up and try again to roll a better circle. That will make pie crust like leather, and we do not wish to eat leather. Leather is bad.

Roll from the center to the edge. Do not try to roll across the whole thing, that is not good. Work from the center to the edge. Try for a good-sized, mostly round product.

Also: Forget the whole marble pastry surface or the ice-filled rolling pin. These things condense if properly chilled. Condensation adds water. Water is *bad* for sticking. Do not go that route. Gadgets do not make good pie crust. Practice makes good pie crust. Forget the gadgets and practice, practice, practice.

Once you've rolled it out, roll up the pie crust like a scroll of paper, using a flipper/turner to free it from the counter. Lift it up in 'scroll form' and unroll it over the pie tin. (This gets easier with practice.) Gently press the dough into the pie tin to make sure you got all the way to the corners. Patch any bare spots you might have with excess overhang.

Put pie tin (with bottom layer of dough) in fridge to keep it cold while you're working on the filling.

Peel 7 or 8 (depends on size) Stayman Winesap apples. These are round, unattractive, not-shiny apples with no shelf-appeal. They look like hell next to the shining Red Delicious, the glorious green Granny Smith, and the striped Gala apples. Don't worry. They might *look* like hell, but they don't taste that way at all. You can *sometimes* buy them in stores. I get mine from the local orchard. (I live in central Pennsylvania, arguably the best apple country in the world.) Winesaps ripen in October, about the middle of the month, and they store well for the winter, very suitable for xmas baking.

Slice the apples up for pie... this is more important than you think it is. You are aiming for uniform, NOT WEDGE SHAPED, flat pieces that are thin enough for you to just barely be able to see the knife blade through. If you can't see the knife blade when you're slicing, then you are slicing too thick. If the slices are thinner than 1/8", then you are slicing too thin. You want big, flat slices. You DO NOT want wedges and you DO NOT want little fiddley bits. Do big flat slices, turn the apple 1/4 turn, do big flat slices, etc. You will have leftover square cores with some pretty decent meat on 'em. This can't be helped. Do not cut the bits off and put them in your pie. The bits cook to mush and make a mushy pie. Mushy is bad.

Put the apple slices in a roomy bowl. In another, smallish bowl, mix 3/4 cup (Full disclosure: I personally like half a cup but most people think they like their apple pie sweeter than I do. In these directions, I compromised on 3/4 of a cup as an amount more in line with what people expect out of an apple pie. I use half a cup in my own pies.) of white sugar, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, and 3 Tbsp. white flour all together so that it's well mixed. I use a fork for this.

Forget the whole cornstarch thing, cornstarch is for peach pie and cherry pie and berry pie. FLOUR is for apple pie. For very juicy apples, you may need more than 3 Tbsp. of flour, but you'll learn what 'very juicy' looks like with experience.

Dump the cinnamon-sugar-flour mix over the apple slices and GENTLY fold the apple slices over and over until they are coated. You do not stir roughly or you will break the nice, flat apple slices you worked so hard to cut. (Some breakage is inevitable, but try to minimize it.)

Remove pie pan from fridge. Put apple slices in pie pan by dumping half of them in there, arranging them with your fingers (to fill all spaces fully), and then repeating the process with the second half of the apple mixture. The fruit should dome slightly above the pie tin. Give the pie tin a gentle back-and-forth shake to settle the fruit.

Many people have 'air' baked into their apple pies because they do not take care. Use uniform, flat slices that pack well. Employ only Stayman Winesap apples (in a pinch, Granny Smith OR Rome will work, but neither is as good) for best results. Attempt to settle the apples ahead of time. Avoid the air-pie.

Dot the top of the fruit with four or five small pats of real butter. This adds richness to the filling.

Fix the second piece of pie crust and put it overtop of the pie Use the same "roll it up as a scroll, then airlift it over the pie tin and carefully unroll it" method that you employed so successfully to get the bottom part of the crust in the pie tin. No, I'm not being sarcastic. It works quite well, once you get the hang of it. Then, trim off the excess dough. Tuck the edges under and crimp with your fingers for a pretty fluted edge. (Again, this is a practice thing and you'll get better the more you do it.) Using a sharp knife, do a "plus" pattern (use two jabs for each 'arm' of the plus), turn the pie 45 degrees, and do another "plus" pattern using single jabs to divide the pie into eight slices while creating steam vents. That's probably confusing as hell. (N.B. The world will not end if you fail to vent your pie the way I vent my pie. I like my method and think it's worthy, but you can do what you like.)

I am of the opinion that doing little fruit cutouts and other dough artistry is not conducive to making good pie crust. If you can do that sort of foolishness with your pie crust, it isn't short enough and it won't be tender enough. Aim for just this side of 'impossibly fragile' and you'll have pastry that melts in your mouth.

Put the pie in oven, bake 40 to 50 minutes. Pie is done when crust is lightly browned, apples are bubbling (usually you can hear 'em), and pie smells good. It really does take 40 to 50 minutes.

Remove pie from oven. Apple pie filling and crust will get firmer if you allow the pie to cool completely.

Crumb-topped apple pie is for people who can't make decent pie crust.

Cherry pie: Use sour Montmorency pie cherries. You will need a generous four cups of pitted sour cherries. To the fruit, add 1.25 cups of sugar, 1/2 teaspoon almond flavoring, and 4 Tbsp. of cornstarch. Do not add red food coloring. You don't need it and it will make people think you used sorry-ass bought pie filling like a lamer.

Peach pie: Use peaches that are ripe and give gently to the touch. Dead ripe peaches are juicier with less shape and will make a sloppier, but still tasty, pie. Unripe peaches (firm to the touch) are unsatisfactory. You will need about 7 peaches, peeled and cut into reasonably skinny wedges. Add 3/4 cup sugar, 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/4 teaspoon almond flavoring, 2 Tbsp. flour, and 2 Tbsp. cornstarch to the peaches.

Berry pie: You will need a generous four cups of berries. Add sugar to taste, usually about a cup. All berries are juicy and will need 3 Tbsp. cornstarch, 3 Tbsp. flour to help settle them. A small amount of almond flavoring (1/4 teasp.) probably wouldn't hurt, but you won't need cinnamon. Berry pies (blackberry, blueberry, raspberry) usually boil over. Badly. The prudent baker puts a cookie sheet on the oven shelf underneath his or her berry pie.