#<- guy who is wildly guessing at the spellings of everyone's names based on having attempted to learn icelandic in high school

[chiropteracupola]

me when the anime has a cool warp-weighted loom scene...

[fisherrprince]

ask dump (big long)

1) ABDBHTDND YEAH THEY DID UM, they did the ”no THANK you..! etc etc BUT IM WEAK” song too! Wild how that is now. points at them hey I know those guys

2) OHHH….. THIS HITS……….. I like missio sometimes but this is a nice chorus also: Vanitas… yeah I, like, always love music recs. they can be hit or miss but it’s only fair with how much music I find and then immediately go what if I showed everyone

3) how many does he have in there now, eleven? Twelve??? He signed up for one mouse and he got eleven human children or at least nine to ten human children, two young adults, and two regular adults who aren’t going to be helpful—

4) aaaaaaaaa thank you!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

5) MMM I haven’t thought extensively about cowboys for a while… it’s been mostly space up here for now, haha. I like my space murder. But that’s not to say I haven’t given them some fond passing thoughts! Two bros sitting in a river 5 feet apart cos they’re covered in mud and smell awful and one of them is very loudly blaming the other for the plan that involved hiding behind a barn (actually the last thing I wrote in my notes is a mini totally unfinished drabble of hiding in Lea’s bar but the “great hiding place” Lea has is in his floor)

6) gosh I Have to wonder if it’s a case of destiny/universal “the nature of humanity is that every so often someone invents homestuck again” or if we just, like, had common knowledge of the book of prophecies. Or not even the Book, maybe, I have to assume that knowledge/observance of the Foretellers phased out pretty quickly, but prophecies left unfulfilled would linger for generations probably. Or maybe they’re even old stories, a tale of seven masters of the past drawn in to a chess game, or the game based on the old fairytales, or the numbers 7 and 13 are ingrained in local culture … see, because obviously Xehanort implies that this prophecy/old masters stuff ISNT common knowledge, but Eraqus CERTAINLY knows about it and it’s in all the architecture/local myths… ok but then also, if we’re to take the opening chess game as more than just clever symbolic narrative bookends, everyone’s symbols ARE right there. I just kind of registered that’s probably what you were talking about. In which case our questions are still there, how much did the common populace know and how much did eraqus know? Did he like, end up with three apprentices who had very distinct chess symbols as keychains and go uh oh john or what—

hey why’d you do this to me. I’m a tired college student in scala on my sixth response paper about the prophetic legitimacy of foreordained keybearers versus the self-imposed creation of destiny as following common legend and I’m arguing with some guy named Einar about how you can’t just fake a prophetic fulfillment by claiming to be the Crown piece in chess. You can’t just KIN A CHESSPIECE, Einar.

7) ABGDJGD TY..!!! To be honest they also live in my head rent-free! Some of them need to start paying rent because I’m supposed to be in school getting Better at storyboarding—

8) hard same hey thats just bc magnet is uhhhh. The best spell? Aside from mine spells

9) SEE AGAIN I DONT KNOW bc for one Sora obviously isn’t ENTIRELY unique, if he’s able to be diagnosed so quickly, but this “holding your nobody and two to four other people in there” kind of thing probably has never been seen before. But for another, Roxas and Xion have copied a keyblade. Just like — a keyblade? Copied entirely? Wild.

anyways keyblade manifestation is a mystery to me and I’d love to see it explored because what we know the Lore is, is this: they were fashioned after the likeness of the x-blade. They can be bequeathed to others (shown to not necessarily mean that exact keyblade is passed down, probably this means the ability to wield can be bequeathed). They can be WILLFULLY given. They come from the heart, they are not welded out of steel. They are…. questionably sentient, or maybe just sapient, or somehow are picky about who holds them. Side note khwiki is telling me things I Did not know about the whereabouts of Ven’s heart during 358 and also the ability to wield two which requires more than one heart obvi but which is named synch blade??? always question the wiki but these have sources. Anyways. Keychains can swap their forms so they have a Base and Custom Skins mode. There are three kinds, Light (common), Darkness (Michael mouse??? Not his bbs one the rod one which I GUESS is a counterpa Iiiiii am getting off trackaaaaa), and Heart (which I’m guessing is just the x-blade, maybe the gayblade, and the kh1 keyblade of heart??). Um. What was my point here. OH yeah I was just gonna say Bro Wild. This is completely a mystery to me. Does every keykid’s base form keyblade look different, and we were all just given cool keychains? Are there some kids who melded unique keychains? If I were connecting dots wildly and with reckless abandon I’d say yeah and also you cannot just suddenly one day wield one, you HAVE to be bequeathed, but as soon as that happens it sparks the creation of your own personal heart sword. Every keyblade is manifested independently — those wielding a family keyblade have the ability to summon their own, if necessary, but the family sword is taking up that space in their heart and theyd have to get used to making their own. since, it seems, keyblades (summoned) will die and solidify if their bearer dies, but keyblades (unsummoned) will either disappear or summon themselves somewhere else and retain a small piece of your… essence. A legacy keyblade, I feel, would be a little something like feeling every past Avatar and you are the avatar, but you can’t talk to them. They’re there tho. Also I think that having an exceptionally strong heart would be not only a moral requirement for ensuring the keyblade’s duty is upheld, but also a physical requirement! youre carving out a bit of your heart to make room for a sword. Weak hearts should not do that even if they want to.

aye… how was that longer than the scala answer? You got me on tangents again in these essays I

10 (submission from licilou22)

NGDBFDBFSHGDHFDHGDA 😎👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼 WHEEZING

[content-to-convert]

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR...

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR it just made him dress nicer 

By Pat Mellon 

Speaking of your brand evolving, PODCASTS are now a wise bullet to have in the arsenal of promotional weapons. In the early 2000's, for instance, you didn't have the option to record and distribute a PODCAST. The technology didn't exist to even IDENTIFY, much less create one- if you typed PODCAST into an email in 2002, it would have been flagged as a misspelling. 

But now, thanks to Audioblogging, re-branded as PODCASTING thanks to the iPOD, you can reach a targeted captive audience in a car on a long commute, with content that they've actually sought out. It's essentially a radio infomercial for the lifestyle of your product, without the PAID-PROGRAMMING aftertaste. Plenty of people have been slow to warm to the idea of such self-promotion and have waited to see if the technology and its effectiveness sustained or if it waned, the way QR codes did, or video discs did until the invention of the DVD. It can be an amazingly powerful part of your brand. 

Many rejected podcasting, as I did initially, as a waste of energy. In fairness, early on when there were no networks for podcasting and its business model was less focused than now, it smacked of self-congratulatory volunteer work. I saw it as an infringement on my profession. I have 15 years of radio hosting experience. I saw podcasts as competition. In my short-sighted view then, I didn't see the full potential of a podcast. I just saw it as people wanting my job. But as time went on, I began to see the ways, at least in terms of in-car entertainment, that podcasting was the future. And like the cryptic fortune cookie says, "Kill Your Darlings". Or maybe go with the less-confusing, "Reinvent Your Business Constantly. The End Goal May Be The Same But The Tools and Methods Evolve Constantly" which is a Ken Tucker quote I saw on a Snapple Cap. Or even the more direct, "You Have To Reinvent To Stay Fresh and In The Game" which Madonna said once. 

But early on, I saw it as the enemy - the way news journalists must have felt when FREELANCERS started getting a lot of the work in the late 90's. I thought, "If all you need to broadcast is a computer and an opinion, why the hell did I major in Broadcasting? It's like everyone becoming a Youtuber or a Social Media Influencer (seriously, that is NOT a good name. It's just saying what you're doing. It lacks creativity, like naming the glass thing you drink out of a "glass". Or the room with the bed a "bedroom". Or the thing you swing on a "swing". Or the... Sorry-I'll move on.) Anybody can become a Social Media Influencer these days, (and if they're under 14 and haven't been trying for half their lives then you might want to make sure they're breathing) and that means fame, sometimes money, but more important: LIKES. I overheard my 8 year-old playing with her friends and they were pretending there was a genie or something granting wishes and one girl asked for a pony, and another asked for a house of chocolate, and my daughter asked for a million LIKES on her video. LIKES are currency for pre-teen popularity. And LIKES or even merely PAGE VIEWS can be currency in the grown-up world of business. My point is that anyone with a computer and a camera can make money on Youtube if they hustle. It's simply the new normal. It's great, if not dangerous. We've yet to see the fallout of a generation raised on Youtubing, unless, of course, you count cautionary tales like Logan Paul or Jo Jo Siwa, both of whom are rich. It's simply another entertainment option for kids. I kinda thought podcasting was that, but for adults who only wanted quasi-fame; to show-off. But it's bigger than that.

If you're a plumber, for instance, and you want to maximize business, you probably want a decent social media footprint, some solid YELP reviews, and maybe even a podcast. Toilet clogged? Click here for an interview with master plumbers from all over. It's not the ONLY thing you should do. It's ONE of the things you should do.

On the consumer side, you have to realize that traffic, especially the bumper-to-bumper kind, is GOLD to a radio talk show host. People listen the most in their cars, so DJ's in New York and Los Angeles, the #1 and #2 radio markets depending on who you ask*, for instance, who entertain on the radio, are always on their toes to stay funny and relevant because it's so easy to push a button and change the station.

Then suddenly there was a new game in town. People were bypassing the radio altogether and plugging external sources into car sound systems, removing the commercials and unwanted Morning Zoo shenanigans, and rendering my entire college education and training void. My only hope was wishing death to the podcast movement, which I think I did a couple of times on the radio accompanied by a sound effect of a toilet flushing (Take THAT, Podcasting!). It didn't work. I kept hearing the word. Podcast. (eerie voice) PODD CAAAST! My head was in the sand. People would say to me, "you should do a podcast" and I'd cringe and wildly swing fists at imaginary ghosts who were accusing me of "Resting on your laurels" and "Holding on too tight.”

It took a while, but I get the appeal and, more importantly, the power of the Podcast. It's like a book-on-tape for the 21st century- 10 times as cool, though, because it's technologically relevant, and can be different every time you listen. So we agree that podcasts are real. And we acknowledge that there is room for many things on the dashboard of a car, be them outlets, or additional buttons. And we agree that the the way we do business is always changing and we have to adapt to some degree. So why all the hub bub? Because we can't have an intelligent conversation about the delicate existence of Podcasts without talking about Shane Gillis, the comedian who was hired and fired by Saturday Night Live in the same week last year. We need to understand the power of what it was that torpedoed his streetcar (tune into Mixed Metaphors with Pat Mellon Tuesdays on The Podd Couple, right after Poddamnit at 8, and Pod of Thunder with Gene Simmons at 8:17) He and a buddy do this show, this podcast, it's like a radio show but you don't listen to it on your grandpa's Victrola, you tether your MP3 player to the radio inside grandpa's Camry, and there's bad language, which there never is on traditional, boring old dumb talk radio, so right away, it's awesome (honestly, the only difference between Howard Stern on radio and Howard Stern on satellite is the F word) and the internet allows curses and take that, Mr. Suit and Tie, and this is going to be amazing. And on one particular show from 2018, Gillis said "chink" when describing someone in Chinatown. Not a huge scandal, but I guess you'd have to ask Roseanne Barr if the internet can get you into to any kind of trouble. She was exiled from the the entire US for a social media post that mentioned race and monkeys. And the same new normal that allows John Q. Anybody to do a podcast ALSO watches everything you do online and will sink you if it sees something it does not like. America can be confusing that way. Freedom of speech and freedom of complaining about freedom of speech are always at each other's throats, it seems. And you can't have it both ways. The guy who alerted the world to Bill Cosby's dating rituals online is loved by many but is also shunned by others, but that guy knows what he did and he knows not to complain about the ones who, well, complain. It's the price you pay.

The point is, you need to constantly be hustling and using all of technology’s modern tools to get your product out (they’re not burning DVD’s anymore) and maybe one of those avenues is a podcast with salty language, and maybe that podcast exists among your body of work that clients can enjoy whenever they want.

But we live in a new age of retroactive outrage. Eddie Murphy was on SNL and is arguably the most talented person the show has produced. He did a stand-up special in which he explores “What if Mr. T were a Faggot?” It was inflammatory and it was insensitive and it was homophobic (though that buzzword was still a decade from conception) because the premise of the joke- the attribution of homosexual behavior to a big, strong, black man being marginalized as solely predatory sodomy - crossed the line. When I spell it out like that it looks horrible. But it’s a simple comedic device: assigning unlikely behavior to someone for comedic purposes. It’s the fish-out-of-water gag. It’s why we had Mork, and Alf, and Balkie from Perfect Strangers. It’s Freaky Friday. It’s why The Rock playing a babysitter or a tooth fairy is funny. Murphy did this AFTER he was on SNL. But if has been released before he auditioned, do you think he’d have been hired? 

  Of course he would have. Because the Mr. T thing was a small part of that special (though, I recall, an extremely quotable part) and the people who didn’t like or appreciate the language didn’t have the bionic megaphone of the internet so they could get their outrage all over your conscience. The point is that your podcast is a reflection of your brand. You have to weigh your desire to speak freely and loosely with your desire to keep the Cancel Culture at bay. At a MINIMUM, though, you should keep things clean for your clients, listeners, and most importantly, your potential customers. Shane Gillis missed out of being on SNL and fame, instead on infamy because he broke one of society's biggest rules:he said something controversial out loud. Granted, it was in bad taste, but if that were a crime half of us would be in jail. It's just important to remember that your language on a work-based podcast should be professional, which I realize cannot be defined easily, but maybe stay away from slang and cursing. Just because you CAN doesn't mean you SHOULD.

[raymondshields]

1, 4, 5, 6, 11, 15, 21, 22, 23 for the writers ask?

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Currently, I’m working on a fic titled A Monstrous Manifesto, which is a fic entirely inspired by Cat Valente’s poem of the same name. Every line is a chapter, every noun is a part of that chapter, and every single beast named corresponds to a Spectre, allowing me to dig directly into their heads and demonstrate their full psychology. 

Progress stopped unfortunately back in July on part four - a fiend, which I picked Deadly Beetle Stand for, because I just couldn’t get into his head. Kiril played soundboard for it and I’ve been humming and hawing over him trying to figure it out, but let’s be real it’s gonna come to me in a dream.

Because see here, most folks who’ve read my works, if told to point to my best, it’ll either be a) my breakthrough with Armour Adventures (which tbh if I redid I’d do better on), b) In Kismet Marcescence (which I need to sit down and plot out properly before I continue), or c) rather unexpectedly to me, Green Grows The Asphodel. Guess everyone likes that soft MiAlba where Alba gets his bastardization arc, but also I let him speedrun it in Broken Shine The Stars and people seem to like that one too, so.

The thing is with AMM is that this would be my greatest work. Like AA, it’s gen, but here’s the one advantage I’ve realized I actually have over pretty much everyone else in this fandom: I am myself a monster, fictionkind and all. I’m a Devil and a feral little beast, which means when you offer me Spectres - warriors of the dark and death who are all based around animal motifs - I take one look and go “oh! You’re like me!” and proceed to write them as actual monsters while having some unspoken and long-winded conversation about what it means to be human, what it means to be shunned, and what it means to belong among the broken.

It means that I write Spectres wildly different than anyone who isn’t Kiril (who is on the same wavelength as me and we argue back and forth about the inner details of everyone’s monstrosity), which means when I do it, nobody’s seen this shit before and apparently people seem to think it’s cool. So AMM is the very epitome of that style, of that psychological and philosophical discussion. I don’t really have a background of research in either of those things, so any similarities to works or theories already out there is entirely coincidence. Cat Valente’s poem was the first stepping stone I ever took to accepting myself for who - and what - I am. I owe as much of my identity and confidence to her as I do Zamorakian philosophy, which built my personality and is a major part of how I survived the middle school era of my life. The least I can do in return is offer the best of me out into the world.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

“Somewhere deep below conscious thought, below his training and the life and this Lemurian body, buried under lifetimes of war, buried under the idea that a Spectre was a fighter, his blood remembered how to love the memory of the fallen.” - Beneath Blood Ties

BBT is one of my most unappreciated fics, which makes sense as it’s set almost two thousand years prior to Classic, starring a fourteen-year-old Lemurian Minos and the Saint who raised him, Aries Kirien, whose name is probably still spelled Kiriel at least once in the fic because no beta we die like Gold Saints.

The original inspiration comes from Seanan McGuire’s Once Broken Faith, and the line in question is Toby reading the Luidaeg’s blood memories after the latter told a young Karen that she couldn’t speak Faerie even in her dreams - she speaks it in her blood memories, and Toby notes that her blood remembers.

It stuck with me, though I’ve read OBF approximately a million times. It, along with A Killing Frost and An Artificial Night, are my three top Toby books. And it responded to me as someone who’s fictionkind: I couldn’t speak the language I spoke as a Devil in my dreams, or in the waking world, but I know some part of me remembers it. Would know how. The Chaorruption filters all of that into English because it thinks it’s helping, but if I were a magical creature right now, in this world, I’m pretty sure my blood would remember.

So I wrote about Minos, and the sorrow he carried. The premise of BBT is that a Pope realized some Spectres come back, went around before they became Spectres, and kidnapped the lot of them to train as Saints, leaving them all traumatized as fuck, unsure of who they were or who they followed, and messed up for lifetimes. I also wanted to show more that Spectres were more than what the Holy Wars made of them, and about digging through that exotrauma to remember that they could be kind.

Spectres, originally, would make sense as really just Hades’ servants and the ones who keep the Meikai running. Pretty sure that means they know every single death rite that’s existed in the past three millennia. Pretty sure they know how to be respectful of the dead. Pretty damn sure that below all that soldiering and war, they’re all really exhausted librarians who want to do their job and also dig graves.

But I like this sentence here best, because that’s pretty much the climax of the plot here: that there is, in fact, something underneath all his exotrauma, all the current trauma he’s been dealing with. That below all of that bitterness and war, he’s a better person than what Athena made of him.

Idk, I just think it’s neat and no I’m not projecting being ‘kin on him again. /j

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Albafica, to nobody’s surprise. I mean, come on. A guy with a fuckton of traditionally-feminine beauty whose looks keep getting brought up, is very introverted, has seen some shit, just wants to kill people who hurt what he cares about while also not hurting the people he does care about, really wants you to keep your damn distance, is super touchstarved, and holding onto his humanity with his fingertips? Come on the only things he’s got that I don’t is an actual male reproductive system and naturally blue hair.

Once you realize that especially in TLC Athena’s actions are pretty damn horrific, especially to her Saints, Albafica has the perfect setup to become a Spectre. Seriously, if he’d been offered Luco’s deal but while holding a dying Lugonis, do you really think he wouldn’t have taken it? I explore that more in Broken Shine The Stars, but like. Albafica is the perfect fallen angel of a character. He has genuinely good intentions. He’s hurting so damn bad and only fucking once in his entire onscreen performance is that acknowledged (shoutout to Luco for that one), and if you take his sorrow and let him turn it into anger, he’s a glorious monster indeed. Albafica’s descend into monstrosity and Spectrehood is exactly what would happen if I got angry and also hadn’t been fucking nerfed physically.

I love him way too much.

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Surprisingly, Aiacos. Alba’s hard as fuck to write. Aiacos, though. You’ve heard me go off about Aiacos at length, but like. He’s the very embodiment of the worst person you can become while still loving, still surviving. Aiacos is the type of person we’re all capable of becoming, and we all should be terrified of becoming, because every single choice he’s ever made is completely understandable and that much more horrific for it.

It’s somewhat unsurprisingly easy to get into his head. He’s fun to write because he scares me. Because if I let him do all the dumb, selfish, sadistic-looking, survival-focused things, then I don’t have to worry about doing it myself. I let him look out for only himself when the pieces are down, so I can do better.

Also I haven’t seen anyone else write him that way (Kiril being the obvious exception here), so it’s double the fun because new territory.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

Hey. Hey you fuckers who can plot shit. Give me the number of the demon you sold your soul to. Let me PLOT SHIT.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Summaries! Titles are easy, I steal them from songs and Toby books. They’re just fancy wordplay and I have literally a list on my fic spreadsheet of titles I want to use. Summaries, though, are very important. People don’t pick fics based on title and tags, they pick based on summary. They’re your hook into the work, so you’ve got to give the audience your premise short and sweet and actually sounding appealing.

Sometimes I can write them no problemo. Other times, they’re a fucking nightmare. I try to imply the tone of the ending in my summary, because I have absolutely been blindsided by the ending in a way I really didn’t like because I thought the summary was hiding the ending. (Example - there was this one fic that made it sound like my OTP was going enemies to lovers, and it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it needed the fucking dead dove do not eat tag, stopped just short of serious nonsexual noncon (which wasn’t tagged at all), and ended very unhappily and it messed me up for days, I did not like it.)

So for my summaries I set the scene, set the tone, and imply the tone of the ending so you have a vague idea of where it’s going. Easier said than done.

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Anime, probably! Manga wouldn’t lend itself too well to my style, but I’d enjoy short anime episodes, I think. I honestly don’t know. Someone tell me what my stuff would work good as. I dunno.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

For fic, all the time! I write what I want to read, and since six out of seven of the Dohko/Kagaho works on AO3 were my fault, I’d better get used to reading my own writing for pleasure. Fortunately, I like most of my writing recently, so that’s pretty all right!

Don’t ask about what I had up on ff.net. Don’t. It’s old and bad and I didn’t know how to write.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Hmmm... I want to rephrase this better as ‘what fic exists only as a concept and has done so for the longest out of all the concepts of fics currently in my head’, and hmmmm. Honestly, it’s either Shion and Aiacos’ romance fic where they also get a daughter (which has a title actually, The Lost Sea Fantasia, but still hasn’t been written); or it’s Wyvern Rose and the Trials of Lightning, which is about 15th century Rhada’s two daughters, the elder of which is surprise-given his surplice and his job when he dies right before Hades does, and the younger of which is kidnapped by a spiteful goddess who doesn’t like the elder of the two.

ToL is a fic that I have somewhat plotted out, but really needs a lot of work. I’m not really sure how to go about writing it, because whenever I sit down to sketch it out, it never comes to me. It does, however, lend itself well as a bedtime / campfire story that Albafica tells Regulus while they’re out on a mission together, as part of Alba sneakily teaching Regu how to be a Spectre without anyone knowing. It’ll stay a concept for a long while until Rose crashes into my headspace and actually fucking tells me more about herself other than “oh yeah btw I’m fucking Julia” like thanks, already knew that from Julia herself, tell me more about you you awful little Judge of a dragon princess.

[ask game here!]

[statistically-unlikely-monster]

Jon’s Not Dead

Chapter 1 Part 2

This part references a lot of Crash Zoom since the witch girl from Trick or Threat is in this. If you haven’t watched Crash Zoom, I recommend it. Anyways, onto the story~

Of all the places he was expecting to go, his apartment building was not it. The way they made it sound, this girl lived far off somewhere. But yet, he turned out to be living in the same building. 

Eduardo led the group in, checking his pocket just to make sure he still had his own key. The last thing he needed was to be locked out after all this. He cringed at the thought of having to ask someone to let him in, especially one of his past neighbors. Sure, he had been on better terms with that Edd guy, but he still hated Tom and Matt.

A little bit of him regretted leaving Mark behind at the Red Army base, but someone needed to stay there and keep an eye on the other members. Mark may have trusted them, but he most definitely did not. Sure, Eduardo had control over their leader because of his strength, but there was the chance of the others going rogue and trying to derail his chances of bringing back Jon.

“So this is where everyone moved?” Tord asked, glancing around the main lobby area.

There wasn’t much to it. Old 60’s style chairs were placed against the walls with matching coffee tables. Forest and nature paintings covered the dull yellow walls. A vase of dead flowers were placed on the counter of the landlord’s desk. Luckily the landlord wasn’t there.

“Yeah, not everyone can afford a nice house after a certain someone blows their old one up,” Eduardo jabbed, pressing the call elevator button on the other side of the lobby area, “You guys might want to take a seat, this thing takes a while to come.”

Paul flopped himself onto a loveseat, and pulled out his phone. Tord perched himself on the arm of the loveseat.

After an uncomfortable ten minutes of standing, the elevator finally came. Tord and Paul hopped up, eager to get in, but Eduardo stopped them with his arm just before they could get in, “Hold up. Look at it.” The elevator slid down farther than it was supposed to, and then screeched to a halt. The ropes were frayed, with a few on the verge of snapping, “Darn thing is always breaking down. I guess we’re using the stairs.”

Without a word, Eduardo walked off to the stairs, leaving the others behind him. The girl lived on the floor just below his. Floor 4. That area was always getting reported for noise, whether it be parties, people fighting, or the occasional explosion. Needless to say, the infamous floor didn’t thrill him in the least. The less time he spent there, the better. The others slowly trickled in after him once he reached the landing. Paul clung to the railing, completely out of breath.

“I told you those cigarettes are destroying your lungs,” Tord teased, smirking as he passed him.

“Look who’s talking Mr. I-smoke-cigars-because-they-look-cool!” Paul   retaliated with a wheeze.

“They do look cool!”

Eduardo rolled his eyes and continued up. The bickering got old real quick, “How are these people the same ones that wrecked the neighborhood?” He thought to himself, “All they do is goof off.”

The landing of the fourth floor was oddly dusty with what looked like glitter. Wasn’t really anything too out of the ordinary considering the people on said floor, so Eduardo just shuffled through it.

The entirety of floor four was covered in glitter. No amount of space was spared. With the right kind of light the whole place could be used as a disco ball.

In the middle of it all was three people; a young woman, a young man, and a little girl.

“What were you two thinking?!” The young woman was scolding them.

The young man patted his hand on her shoulder, “Aww c'mon Lucy, don’t be such a party pooper! We were just having fun!”

“Fun?! Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean glitter?!”

The little girl chipped in, pulling out a huge black book from her bag, “Maybe one of these demons can help us?”

“No no no! We’re not summoning anything else! Last time you about killed everyone!”

“I didn’t kill anyone, that was all the monster that you asked for!”

“I never-” The woman named Lucy cut herself off upon noticing Eduardo standing there, “Eduardo, thank God, can you please talk some sense into them?!”

Now here came a dilemma. The Necronomicon was right there in front of him, just within snatching distance. But he knew Lucy. They were good friends from way back. Stealing from a little girl right in front of her would be a bad move.

Luckily, he didn’t have to ponder the decision for too long, because Tord came running up and almost ran them all down. Grabbing the book from the little girl’s hands, he held it over his head triumphantly, “I got it!”

The little girl squealed in surprise, “Hey, that’s mine! Give it back!” she pounded her fists harmlessly on his stomach, “Give it back you big jerk!”

“You stole it from me you… trash gremlin? Huh… I was expecting you to be a bit more threatening.” Tord chuckled, poking her head mockingly, “What’s wrong? Are you gonna cry?”

He soon regretted those words. The girl swung her leg up as high as she could, nailing him in the jaw. She then ripped the book away from him, using it to beat him over the head, “AGH! PAUL, GET THIS RABID THING OFF ME!”

Paul, whom had just then gotten up the stairs, blatantly ignored Tord’s cries, “ One second, I just found a Pikachu!”

“Why are all my soldiers useless?!” Tord whined, “Eduardo! Help!”

Begrudgingly, Eduardo pulled the girl off, “Kate, right?” he began to explain, kneeling down to her eye level, “I really need to use this, so if you could please-”

“Nope!”

“Aww, c’mon kid. Five seconds, that’s all I need.”

“No, it’s mine.” She blew a raspberry at him.

“Ok, yeah, real funny. What will it take for you to let me borrow that?”

“Hmm… how about a game?”

“Oh god” “Ok, I’ll bite. What’s this game?”

“I’m gonna use my spell book to summon up a big baddie. If you can beat it, I’ll give you the Necronomicon. If you lose, well, you’ll probably be broken beyond repair. Interested?”

Eduardo took a deep breath. He didn’t come this far just to walk out like a wimp. His best bud was counting on him. If he didn’t get the book, then that was it, “Can I use a weapon?”

“Any of your choice”

“I guess…yeah, let’s do it.”

Lucy and Ben wisely hid a floor down, away from the soon to be destruction.

Kate grinned, “Won uoy llac I ,htarw fo nomed! Flesruoy rof eulb eht revo ekat!”

The floor went pitch black. A glowing, circular rune appeared beneath Kate’s feet. She floated in the air, eyes gleaming red and sharp pearly teeth bared. The Necronomicon floated with her, just inches from her fingertips. From the rune rose a large black figure. It’s horns scrapped the ceiling even with it hunched over. One beady black eye glared down at Eduardo, snarling and thrashing its tail in anger. 

“…Aw sh*t.” Eduardo muttered in realizing his mistake.

The monster took a deep breath, and unleashed a blast of fire from its mouth. Eduardo ducked out of the way just in time. The only thing on him to get burned was his shoelaces. The wall and carpet behind him was set ablaze, filling the room with smoke.

Paul hopped into action, whipping out the gun on his back and firing directly at the monster. The monster blocked the attack with its tail before swinging it wildly, knocking Paul and into the wall with enough force that he was halfway through it. 

“Hey, I thought he got a weapon!” Tord spoke up, quickly ducking a stray blast of fire.

“He gets one of his choice. I didn’t say I was giving him one.” Kate crooned before disappearing in a puff of smoke. 

“Jævla det-” Tord growled, “Hey! Big and ugly!” he called to the monster. When it turned around, he flipped it off, “Come get me!”

Howling with rage, it lunged at Tord, whom slipped under its body before it could get him. The monster flung itself into the wall, destroying it in the process like a giant wrecking ball.

Eduardo exclaimed, “Holy crap are you alright?”

“Ja. Go get Paul’s gun.” Tord replied as a mischievous smirk grew on his face, “I have an idea.”

Nodding, Eduardo slipped Paul’s gun out of his unconscious hands, and froze. He had no idea how to fire a gun. It wasn’t something he thought he would ever need to know. Sure, you just pull the trigger and a bullet comes out, but the gun in his hands was way more complicated than that. There were weird levers and hatches, a scope, and all sorts of other pieces he didn’t know how to use.

Meanwhile, Tord was having fun with the monster. He moved much faster than it, ducking and diving around it. The monster couldn’t keep up. In trying to keep up with the annoying little human running its feet, it made itself dizzy to the point it almost couldn’t stand upright. With that window of opportunity, Tord launched himself onto the monster’s back, and wrapped his one arm around its right horn. 

Growling, it bucked like a horse, trying to throw the pest off it. Being so close to the ceiling, it couldn’t really jump too much without hurting itself. It couldn’t get Tord off no matter how hard it tried.

“Uh, mind shooting it sometime today?” He called to Eduardo, whom was still struggling with the gun, “I can’t do this much longer. Starting to slip.”

Eduardo shot back, “Just give me a second! I got it!” he aimed at the monster, but no matter how many times he pulled the trigger, no bullet would fire, “How the hell do you use this thing?!”

“Do you really not know how to use a gun?”

“Pfft! Of course I do! …Okay, maybe I don’t, so what?”

“Just pull the trigger!”

“I tried, but nothing’s happening.”

“Did you check if it needs reloaded?”

“Ok, you know what, screw this!” Eduardo charged at the beast, wielding the gun like a club. With a swift thwack to the eye, the beast howled in pain, then disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke. 

Tord fell to the floor with a dull thud, “…I guess that’s one way to do it.”

Reaching out his hand, Eduardo helped him up. The floor was still burning around them. Fiery tongues lashing out and consuming everything, including something that made both their hearts drop. There, just at the front door of one of the apartments was the one thing they came for, now blazing like a candle. 

Panicking, Eduardo ran over to stamp out the fire as Tord rushed away to grab the fire extinguisher on the wall. However, they were too late. All that was left of the Necronomicon was a pile of blackened ash and the remaining bits of glitter that survived the fire. Both froze, looking down at it in pure disbelief. It was gone. No amount of glue or tape could fix it now.

[professional-anti]

Chapter Eight: Weapon of Choice

Heyyyyy!! Sorry, life has been cray, and it’s never gonna change, unfortunately. But guys, dw, I am dedicated. Also, weirdly, doing this has made me appreciate books even more? It’s so much fun to talk abt books, and I learn so much, even if it’s a book I hate. Okay, getting started (pray for me):

We last left off with Clary jumping thru the surprise door, like one does. Jace lands on top of her, yay, OTP moment, gag me. There’s a nice little detail where “Clary coughed hair (not her own) out of her mouth” which kind of captures the chaos and would be cute if it were an actual good ship. I hate when that happens. Jace criticizes Clary, FINALLY for a valid reason.

It turns out they’re at Luke’s house. Oh, classic, he lives in Williamsburg, the gentrified hipster paradise. Where else would a man who wears flannel live? Even more classic, he lives behind a bookstore. Clare is obviously one of those heavy-handed authors who has exactly two professions for her Intellectual Men™: bookseller and evil Giles.

I’m going to shake Clary. She doesn’t know why they’re here, despite having thought “I want to go where my mom would have gone” right before jumping. Like, bitch??? Do you have a brain? I’m cryingfff

Clary decides she wants to leave, even though there’s cleary something super sketch abt Luke. He’s so obviously protecting her, so he must know something, right? Well, Clary rubs her two brain cells together and decides, nope, nothing to see here! Time to go home!

Jace, being reasonable for once, is like, yo, maybe we should stay. They run into Simon, so you know there’s gonna be Dramaz. Jace and Simon apparently devolve into primordial wild dogs driven by the intense urge to fight for the girl dog so they can screw and produce puppies that are as annoying as they are. Here is what everyone is doing:

Clary is fixing Simon’s hair bc she’s a Woman Simon is pushing Clary’s hand away bc he’s Annoyed Jace is using his stele to file his nail bc he’s Not Paying Attention

There’s some horrible forced tension between Simon and Clary, where he’s all, “Clary, you ran away from me, I thought I and my dick upset you,” and Clary’s all, “Never, Simon, I love you,” and Simon cums. Not actually, instead he slut shames Clary:

“Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn’t be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemomonium”

On the one hand, draaaaag him, Simon!! Jace IS a peroxide blond who listens Evanescence (I almost wrote MCR before googling it and learning that if I wrote that, about a million punks would stream into my inbox in tears).

Simon’s eyes are “dark with suspicion”. which is just annoying. Yes, I would be so fucking annoyed if my friend ran out on me and then disappeared and then reappeared with a blond guy. But I’d also do some more questioning of the situation. Is she okay? Why is she with such a rude guy? Is he hurting her? Was she kidnapped? Is she being held against her will? Is this a drug thing? Does she need my help? Why did Luke cover for her? Is something deeper going on? Instead Simon is all possessive Nice Guy.

Apparently Simon spied on Luke packing a duffel bag of weapons. So he couldn’t give Clary any benefit of the doubt? It sounds like her family is caught in a bad situation! Maybe she had to hide for her life! Simon, use your brain!!

kajlkfaklsdjfalksdflk Clary tells Simon everything, and Simon asks if they kill all these different magical creatures, and Jace says ONLY WHEN THEY’VE BEEN NAUGHTY a;dlfjals;kdjfl;asdjfl;aksdjf hahahahahahahah This image that Clare is going for is just sooooo overdrawn. This dialogue, omfg.

Simon loses his mind and excitedly compares everything that’s been going on to D&D. Let’s totally forget abt the fact that Clary’s mom is missing, or that Luke just filled a duffel bags with murder sticks, shall we?

Jace and Simon have a bizarre conversation, and then they walk. In. The. Back. Door. Bc Luke doesn’t lock his back door. Bc that’s totally not something that someone who fills a duffel bag with weapons would do. At least the door to the bookstore is locked, though Jace opens it pretty easily with his stele. Why didn’t Luke have Jocelyn fix up some wards or something?

Simon asks Clary how she stands Jace, and she’s like “he saved me life” and he’s like “huh?” even though she told him everything that happened. Why is Simon so dumb. I guess all his blood is in his dick? Wouldn’t surprise me.

They find manacles in the wall, so either Luke and Jocelyn have (even more) hidden depths, or Luke practices

Luke’s apartment is filled with books. Of course. Look, I love books. I have about 500 in my room at this moment. I buy them constantly, I get from the libarary, I read and read and read. I think most of us on booklr do. But when every single Good Character in your book has books, it’s boring. And no one has unique book taste. What if all of Luke’s books were nature books? Jack London? Travel guides? That would paint a picture. Instead he has a bunch of fantasy and other fiction. That’s boring. I learn nothing, bc every goddamn person in this goddamn book reads fantasy. It’s so fucking generic. I totally approve of “good” characters admiring and liking reading bc that’s how you get ideas, and that’s how Lemony Snicket rolls, but there are more books than fantasy and mystery (the other main type that Lucas has) in the world. Justice Strauss has an inexhaustive library. Uncle Monty has all those books about snakes. Lucky Smells just has that one history of Lucky Smells. Already, you know so much abt each person (and place) by what books they have. We learn nothing about Luke.

Clary finds the overnight bag she leaves at Luke’s and changes clothes. I mention this only bc she puts on “a blue tank top with a design of Chinese characters across the front” bc of COURSE she is That Bitch. I hope it translates to something like “Radishes” or “Bridge”.

Luke’s bedroom has a shelf of “Indian statues and Russian icons” which, idk, makes me a little uncomfortable. These sound like things that are holy to someone. But I think the worst part is that Clary says, “Luke collects stuff. Art objects. You know … Pretty things.” I just googled it, and Hindu statues, like the one Luke has of Kali, are seen as actual avatars of gods. Clary is diminishing someone’s god to a “pretty thing”. It’s not a nick-nack or a trinket. (If you know more abt this, like if I’m wildly off-base, feel free to send me an ask!)

Jace finds the Metaphor known as a smashed picture of Luke, Jocie, and Clary, which Clary threw at the Ravener in her apartment, so realize that Luke went back through the apartment. Jace says that Luke must have gone through the Portal-potty last, so it brought them here. I’m still team Clary Asked to Go Where Her Mother Would Have Gone and Therefore the Portal did What it Was Supposed to Do and Brought Her Where She Wanted.

Luke and some warlocks show up, so Clary and co. hide behind the super convenient silk screen. Jace uses his sonic stele to make the screen transparent and we get this gem:

Jace shook his head at them both, mouthing words: They can’t see us through it, but we can see them.

Bc mouthing works that well. You don’t mouth compound sentences!! You mouth something simple like they can’t see us. Simon and Clary already know they can see Luke and the warlocks bc they’re looking at them right now! And this spell or whatever that Jace did takes the tension in the scene waaaaaay down. If they can’t see Luke, then everything becomes more tense. Are the voices getting closer to the screen? Is somebody about to reveal them? Instead, all the tension is drained in a dumb quick-fix.

Bc Clare thinks we’re stupid, she adds “It was frightening even though [Clary] knew [Luke] couldn’t see her, that the window Jace had made was like the glass in a police station interrogation room: strictly one-way.”

GD ARE YOU THERE??????? STOP THIS.

Jace realizes that the warlocks are actually Shadowhunters dressed as warlocks. Idk how he can tell, but whatever. He conveys this by whispering, so I don’t know what the mouthing nonsense was earlier.

The Shadowhunters are named Blackwell (redhead) and Pangborn (gray mustache). What sorts of names. It’s like Clare used a fantasy-name-generator. Who are we kidding, that’s totally what she did. Pangborn picks up the Kali statue and this conversation happens:

“Ah,” said Pangborn, taking the statue from his companion. “She who was created to battle a demon who could not be killed by any god or man. ‘Oh, Kali, my mother full of bliss! Enchantress of the almighty Shiva, in they delirious joy thou dancest, clapping thy hands together. Thou art the Mover of all that moves, and we are but thy helpless toys.’” “Very nice,” said Luke. “I didn’t know you were a student of the Indian myths.” “All the stories are true,” said Pangborn, and Clary felt a small shiver go up her spine. “Or have you forgotten even that?” “I forget nothing,” said Luke.

So the Shadowhunter mythology is that all religions are true? Inch resting. I vaguely remember this. Idk how I feel about this. The Shadowhunters are still gonna be super Christian no matter what lip-service Clare pays to other religions. She has angels! And demons! She’s trying to be inclusive, but it’s never really gonna work, bc she’s doing it in name only. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want her to mess with any religion but Christianity or, sigh, Judaism. Christianity bc it’s the dominant religion and can’t be marginalized (different denominations can be, but not Christianity as a whole) and Judaism bc she’s Jewish. There’s not very much Jewish in these books, though. Yeah, there are angels in Judaism, but it’s not really the Jewish Vibe. A book influenced by Judaism would have a lot of magic based on specific wording, and arguments, and Hebrew and Hebrew-derived languages. This book uses Latin and is into angels. It’s Christian-influenced, which is fine, I guess, but the lip-service to other religions doesn’t ring true. But also, saying “Christianity is the one religion!” is super upsetting and she shouldn’t do that. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I’m literally thinking on the page. Do you guys have any thoughts on this? Please hit up my ask box or talk about this in the notes! This discussion really interests me, and I want to get diverse opinions.

Luke asks if Valentine sent them (he did) and if their clothes “are official Accord robes” “from the Uprising?” (they are). Wow. The Uprising. What a descriptive name! We don’t call things “the Uprising” in real life. It’s more like, “The French Revolution.” “The Cultural Revolution.” “The Revolutionary War.” “The Civil War.” Am I being unfair?” I guess someone right after one of the French Revolutions might just say “the Revolution.” But something about The Uprising is so boring. And aren’t there more than one Uprising? There should be. The Warlock Uprising. The Vampire Uprising. It doesn’t have to be all internal. Any organized group would rise against the Clave. The Clave is legit the worst.

It turns out Luke’s real name is Lucian AND. I. AM. DYING. Luke is Lucius Malfoy, confirmed!! Let’s do a list of what we know so far:

Clary: Ginny Jace: Draco Jocelyn: I’m getting Bellatrix vibes? Bc of the whole in-love-with Voldemort thing? Valentine: I don’t know?? I can’t think of who he could be??? We’ll have to leave this blank for now I guess :/ Hodge: Giles. Not a HP character, but this is a crossover event with Buffy. Isabelle: Pansy Parkinson Alec: I actually don’t know here. He’s the GBF. Simon: Does Harry make sense? They’re both boring nice guys (don’t @ me!)

This game is getting boring, let’s move on. Luke apparently used to fight with B and P, so we know he’s a Shadowhunter (or, if you’ve read this book before, you know he used to be one). Then he tells them he doesn’t know where the Mortal Cup is (they think Jocelyn hid it).

CLARY IS SO FUCKING DUMB OMFG. P and B talk about how Jocelyn hasn’t regained consciousness and Valentine wants to see her again (using her name) and Clary goes:

Jocelyn? Can they be talking about my mother?

NO THE OTHER FUCKING JOCELYN. CLARY HOW RU STILL ALIVE.

CC must think her readers are really dumb and can’t figure anything out on their own:

“I’ve never felt any way about [Jocelyn], particularly,” said Luke. “Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I’m not going to try to interfere with Valentine’s plans for her, if that’s what he’s worried about.”

He might as well have said, “Jocelyn and I were both exiled. EXILED. We were exiled. We were exiled as fuck. Do you get it? Reading context clues is hard, so I’m saying WE WERE EXILED.” The quasi-warlocks should have responded like, “Yeah? We know you both were exiled? We were there?”

Blackwell refers to Jocelyn as “that bitch” bc institutionalized mysoginy is the absolute best! I love when vicious sexism is included for no reason! Bc also these guys aren’t any worse than Luke! Bc may I remind you that Luke was basically a supremacist! Just like them!

For some reason, these idiots believe Lucius when he tells them that he’s not close with Jocie. Then please explain why you both live in Brooklyn.

P and B threaten to make Luke stay in the city, and Luke threatens them, and somehow they let this happen? In other news, Clary is still dumb as rocks. She’s super hurt that Luke said that he doesn’t care about Jocie bc she has about 0 critical thinking skills. We’re talking none. She could have someone whispering the answers in her ear and still bomb the SAT.

Jace thinks that P and B think Luke “knows more than he’s telling” so why would they let him go???? Then Jace reveals that P and B murdered his dad, and this chapter is OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone bring me a Bloody Mary. It’s how I feel inside.

[foreheadface]

Apollo Justice: Ace Wizards: Chapter 4 under the cut~ c:

Here’s Chapter 4~ no one’s going to see this because its like 2 o’clock but yunno. dfgh

please tell me if you see any grammatical errors or mistakes. Thanks~

4.

Apollo was up at 5:00, on the dot. Again.

It isn’t like he’s even trying at this point. Breakfast was at 7. Waking up two hours earlier than everyone else was so stupid. The day ahead of him was going to be long.

Before leaving the dorms, he attempted to wake Klavier, but the boy just slapped Apollo’s wrist away and rolled over. Apollo had sighed and looked up a first-year charm to make a candle flicker the moment Klavier became late. Hopefully, it worked if it came to that…

The Great Hall was barely bustling with people when he got down there but Apollo did see one familiar face.

“Hey, Apollo! Over here!!” Athena was standing and waving one of her arms wildly at him, so much so that Apollo felt himself blush from minor embarrassment. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people in the Great Hall yet.

“H-Hi, Athena. Why are you here so early?” He said, sitting down across from her.

“Look who’s talking? You look ready to take the world by storm!” She held up a thumbs-up sign to Apollo. “But that’s good, because we have a long day ahead of us,” Athena said, playing with her pigtail.

“What do you mean?” asked Apollo. “We have four classes today. With breaks in between, I might add. Kids in the Muggle world would kill for this!”

Athena grinned at him. “Kids in the Muggle world don’t know the first thing about Wizard schools. Lucky for you, I’m here!” The enthusiasm was radiating from Athena’s face. Guess she really means it…

“Our first class is First Year Potions, which is pretty extreme…” She said pointing to a folded bit of parchment she laid out on the table.

Apollo blinked. “How can any of the first year classes be extreme? We’re just getting started.”

“But it’s all about the teacher, isn’t it?? I’ve heard of her and they say she’s dastardly. Fails you on the spot if you do anything wrong, like make a measly mistake in her class.”

“Her?”

Athena rolled her eyes. “You are such a muggle! Did you even read the schedule??? Our first class is Potions! With Professor Von Karma!!! She’s awful. I also heard she whips students sometimes. She’s also the head of Slytherin House. Bleh.” Athena shuddered.

“Wait, she whips kids?! Like, with a bullwhip??” At least, that was the only thing Apollo wanted to hear. He didn’t even want to think getting something wrong in a class, of all things.

“No! Well, I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve heard. Oh! And History of Magic is awful too. Professor Payne’s gonna be pretty boring. Defense Against the Dark Arts seems promising, though! I’ve never actually heard of this guy before….”

Apollo took the schedule from his bag and unfolded the parchment. “Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Phoenix Wright… Huh… What does that entail?”

“Hm?” Athena looked down the page at when Apollo was pointing and then nodded. “Oh! All witches and wizards need to learn how to defend themselves from creatures or spells meaning to do us harm! Every student at this school takes that class, every year. Though, they must have changed teachers recently because I don’t know who that is, and no one I know has ever mentioned him. Well- no adults, anyway…”

“So you don’t recognize his name? It’s kind of a weird one…”

Athena smirked. “And ‘Apollo Justice’ isn’t a strange name? When you were called for sorting, I could have sworn you were at least a half-blood wizard based on your name!”

“Really? Why would you have guessed that?” And why did your blood status even matter? Athena fiddled with the crescent shaped earring again. “I don’t know… Blood status is just important here… I don’t know why though… It’s not like there’s really even a reason for it… Even grown-ups talk about it a lot.”

Students began trickling into the great hall and Apollo spotted a few owls dropping letters from the ceiling. A grey one swooped down to perch beside Athena with a brown envelope in its mouth.  Athena smiled at it and patted its head, to which the little owl leaned into happily. “Thanks, Ponco!” The owl chirped happily.

Athena took the envelope and immediately opened it and smiled.

Another letter dropped in front of Apollo but upon inspection, he noticed that it wasn’t addressed to him. Instead, it was addressed to Klavier. When Apollo reached out to touch it, Athena blocked him. “Apollo, don’t!”

“W-What?”

“That’s a howler. Boy, do I feel awful for the poor soul who received that, today.” She sighed. “It’s only the first day of school. How can anyone’s parents send a howler this early?”

“What’s a howler?”

“Hallo, you two! Cool candle trick, Forehead!” Apollo and Athena looked up to see Klavier sit down across from them at the Hufflepuff table. Apollo rolled his eyes. “You aren’t anywhere near late, you shouldn’t have even known about the candle.”

Klavier shrugging his shoulders. “I saw you do it before you left.”

“But you were asleep! How-“

“What’s this?” He picked up the envelope on the table, to which Athena squeaked. Both boys’ heads jerked towards her. “Athena! Are you trying to make me go deaf?” winced Klavier.

“I’m sorry, but those are just soooo loud… And not the least bit pleasant.” She bowed her head, again playing with her earring. “S-Sorry, Klavier. My owl just dropped it.”

Klavier stared at the red envelope in his hand and nodded. “Wouldn’t say I’m very surprised…”

“W-who’s it from?” Apollo asked reluctantly.

Klavier rolled his eyes. “Who else could it be from?” He sighed and went to open it but Athena shoved her hand across the table, stopping him. “C-Can’t you open it later? People are starting to come in and-“

“When should I open it, Athena?” Klavier bit back, uncharacteristically. “If I wait for later and put it in my bag, it’ll burn my books out of impatient spite. I might as well get it over with. Besides, there aren’t even a lot of people here yet. That means, less people will hear.”

Apollo blinked. “It’s just a letter. Plus it’s the first day of classes. It can’t possibly be that bad.”

Klavier closed his eyes and sighed loudly. “It’s not just a letter, Forehead. It’s a howler.” He said, pinching his nose slightly.  Then, Klavier began to rip the envelope open. Before Apollo or Athena could say a word to stop him, a red letter flew out of the red envelope and into the air until it was face-high with Klavier. He rolled his eyes at it and stared it down, crossing his arms in front of him. “What can you say to me that you haven’t already, Kris?” he muttered.

”Klavier, how dare you make a mockery of this family?” The letter exclaimed in a booming voice, as if it were answering Klavier’s exact question. It went on.

“Hufflepuff? Really? You know you could have chosen a more respectable house! At least Gryffindor like Crescend, you narrow-minded child. Do you know what father would say? Or mother, even?  Ich sollte nicht einmal sagen, wie enttäuscht ich schon bin.”

Klavier blinked, his features stone-faced, and sighed at the letter, giving no reaction. “Are you done?”

“Auf Wiedersehen.“ Then the letter flipped over in a bowing motion and burst into flames. Klavier immediately began to obsessively brush the ash off of the table with his hand, as if he didn’t want someone to find evidence of a Howler later. Athena exhaled. “That was a lot calmer than I originally expected…“

Klavier shrugged. “Ja, that’s my brother for you. Calm as a bloody living room rug.“ Apollo raised an eyebrow, “I know the Slytherin thing is a prestige thing but why is your brother so mad about it? The houses are, in the end, a personality thing, right?“

Klavier’s ice blue eyes were scanning the lines in the oak table intently. “Since the majority of the Gavins are in Germany, we’re the representatives of the Gavins here. And since it’s only us…” He shook his head. “Kristoph’s always been obsessed with glory. He’s always wanted us to seem just as prestigious as the other pureblooded families… Or even more so. I just think it’s stupid.

“I mean,” Klavier went on. “If I ever become famous for anything,  I hope it’s for what I do and not for who my parents and grandparents are, ja? Kris is the other way around.“

Apollo’s brows scrunched up in thought. Kristoph was not sounding like ’older brother of the year’, here. Hopefully, Klavier would forget about all of that stuff his brother said when they finally went to their first class.

Unfortunately, the three were only met with more German.

“Ach! The lot of you! Sit down!“ The woman at the front of the large dark room encouraged impatiently. Her accent was thick. The dungeons were freezing cold, even for very early September. Apollo spotted students with blue striped ties also in the class. Apollo took a look around, making eye contact with Clay, who shot the group a huge grin.

Athena and Klavier walked in front of Apollo and grabbed seats in the second row. Apollo followed and set his bag down, gently, but his head shot up hearing the woman’s aggressive voice addressing them… Or, just Klavier.

“Gavin! You’re late! This does not make a very good first impression! 5 points from Hufflepuff for each of you!“

Athena’s happy-go-lucky demeanor visually changed.  “WHAT? There’s still at least ten minutes until class actually starts!“

“10 points for Miss Cykes’s speaking out of turn! Do not make me take 20!“  She snapped. “Now sit down!“

Athena’s mouth dropped open. She turned to Apollo, her eyes wide. Apollo blinked. She isn’t going to be the most fun, is she? He thought, stressfully.

The woman walked to the front of the room, leaning on her podium and large cauldron. She looked over all the students in the class and clicked her tongue.

“As you should already know, this is an introductory Potions course. You will not learn everything, but you will know enough to move up to my next class, Potions II. You will not fail but you may not excel, this is not an easy class.” She paused and smirked.

“My name is Professor Franziska von Karma. Before any of you even ask, I did teach at the school in Germany for a very short time when I went abroad after I graduated from here, but I thought Hogwarts was more promising and suited for my tastes so I came back.” Apollo shuddered at the word ‘promising.’

“I do not give out participation points or extra credit of any kind. I expect you to do better than your best in this class or your marks will reflect your poor effort if you, the student, so chooses. Homework must be turned in at the beginning of class- I will not go easy on you! I expect you to write every lecture down on parchment and I do not have extra quills if you forgot your own so do not even ask me.

“Also, Ravenclaws! Just because you were sorted into that house does not mean you will do better in my class than anyone else here! If you do not do exactly as I say, you will fail- for I only run perfect classes. If you fail, it is solely on you.” Apollo saw Clay slump his shoulders from the corner of his eye. “Now take your Magical Drafts and Potions books out of your bags if you haven’t already and we shall get started, yes? Turn to page 60 und we begin reading the chapter. Then, we commence classroom safety when dealing with potent and dangerous potions.”

Apollo inhaled, doing as he was told. School was school, magical or not.

Last period couldn’t come quick enough. The hour-long breaks between classes made the day longer, albeit more enjoyable. The first day had been brutal and Apollo saw it on all of his friends’ faces.

Potions had ended with the assignment of a research essay on minor healing potions due the following week. Then History of Magic happened and that probably went worse than Professor Von Karma’s class had.

Professor Payne was old and boring as Athena said earlier… He was surprisingly sprightly and agile, though, and attempted to be just as forceful as Von Karma had been but failed in his execution.

By the end of class, he had revealed himself to be less strict, more jumpy, and really unsure of himself. He assigned no homework, on account of slipping on the floor when trying to assign a reading passage and his toupee coming completely off. The students had laughed and he had let them go fifteen minutes early.

Charms class came and went quicker than History of Magic, thankfully. Professor Hawthorne was sweet and spiritual. She taught the class how to make feathers hover a few inches off of the table and was ecstatic when they were succeeded. Charms class may be Apollo’s favorite class so far.

That is until he walked into Classroom No. 3C after lunch for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Klavier seemed brighter than he had been that morning and happily marched into the room with a wide grin.

“Why are you so happy, all of a sudden?” giggled Athena.

“Pay attention, fraulein, it’s the last class of the day. After this, we have about three hours to explore the grounds before dinner!” He grabbed a seat in the second row of the room and pulled a chair out for Apollo who was behind him.  “Aren’t you excited?”

Actually, Apollo kind of was. The castle was huge and the grounds were beautiful. As long as they could find their way back to the Great Hall for dinner, Apollo had no qualms about exploring.

“Of course!” Exclaimed Athena. “It’ll be awesome! I also wanna stop by the library later. And a few of the hallways we haven’t walked through…. Annnnddd…”

“Where do you want to explore, Forehead?” Klavier said, interrupted Athena’s rambling.

“Hm?” Apollo turned to Klavier and blinked. “Oh… uhhhh…” He scratched his neck. “A-Actually. We have a lot of homework, don’t we? Professor Von Karma assigned that essay on healing potions. We haven’t even had Defense Against the Dark Arts yet. Should we really be exploring and wasting time this soon in the year? I don’t want my grade to drop so early and-“

“You worry too much, Forehead. Live a little!” Klavier chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Clay’s meeting us after class anyways and he wants to explore too! What’s the big deal?”

“Maybe I don’t want to get more points taken away from our house, Klavier,” Apollo pointed out. “Between the two of you, we’ve lost like twenty points, today alone. And, like I’ve already said, we have loads of homework. I’d rather not get on Von Karma’s bad sides during the first week of school.”

Klavier pushed his bangs back while leaning so far back in his chair, it was practically balancing on its back legs. “How safe you are, Forehead. We aren’t going to get in trouble if we merely explore the grounds. No one will care as long as we find our way back before dinner or curfew.” He grinned toothily at Apollo. “Just don’t worry about it.”

The room began to get louder as more and more kids begin to fill it. Apollo checked the ancient looking clock on the wall and counted five minutes past. He cringed. The Professor was five minutes late to his own class, whoever he was.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Apollo thought he heard some heavy breathing. He was surprised when he turned around.

An out of breath man with dark spiky hair wearing blue robes holding a briefcase leaned up against the arch of the doorway. He was huffing out heavy breaths, as if he’d been running. As Apollo looked around the room, everyone else was looking in the same direction. The man wheezed.

“E-Er… Professor-“ A Gryffindor in the front-left side of the room said. “A-Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just-just give me a sec…” He said, coughing and then muttering, “God, I’m out of shape. Miles is always telling me so…” He coughed again before standing up straight and walking into the classroom, setting his briefcase on the brown desk. “Maybe I took too long for lunch…”

Apollo watches him in wonder. This was the guy from the train, Phoenix Wright, and he still didn’t look much like a professor.

Wright took his wand from his lapel and muttered something, making his name magically appear on the blackboard. Then he looked up to his students.

“Well, you all look like an exciting bunch.” He walked in front of his desk to lean against it. ”I’m Professor Phoenix Wright. I’m the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and I hope to be here for a long time,” his tone was light and laid-back, which felt like a breath of fresh air after Von Karma and Payne. “Actually, ah…” he chuckled nervously glancing away from the crowd to the walls behind them. “This is really my first time teaching so I’m a smidge nervous. I’ve been an Auror for the past few years, so I’m a little out of my element, so I you all go easy on me. ”

Apollo smiled. Ah… So Wright is new too…

“Basically, our workload is this: we’ll do some bookwork and maybe a couple of essays on situational technique throughout the year, but I’ll mostly be teaching you the physical aspects of basic magical defense.” He smiled. “You’ll learn to defend yourself with basic offensive spells, but enough about that for now. It’s the first day of class and according to your schedules, you’ll have me tomorrow morning anyway.”

Apollo smiled to himself. Professor Wright seemed… Really nice. Fatherly, even, almost Dhurke-like.  

He continued. “So, the first spell that I’ll be teaching you all is the most basic of defense: the disarming spell. Technically, it’s a charm,” he said, suddenly looking at a paper on his desk. “-buuut it’s the only thing on my lesson plan as of now and may not be on Professor Hawthorne’s. Plus, she’s a pretty nonviolent person anyways,” he notes with a smiled.

Is it just me or is your lesson plan that crumpled peice of paper?

“The disarming charm forces your opponent to release whatever they are holding in their hands, so if you ever think about joining the Dueling club on campus or ever get into any fights,” he turned and smirked at the kids and wagged his finger. “-Which I do not advise; this is the first spell you will probably use.

“The Disarming Spell, as it is also known,” Professor Wright drew a small ‘o’ with his wand and flicked it, the apparent charm sending a piece of chalk writing across the blackboard across the back wall. “-causes whatever your opponent is holding to drop from their fingers. For example,” he said, beginning bullet points and turning back around to his students. “If you do decide to dabble with the Dueling club, this spell will force the wand from your opponent’s hands, and if you are actually being attacked by someone,” Wright trailed off, walking into the rows of desks and counting each student in his head. Then he walked to the back wall and closed the door. “…their weapon, whether it be a wand, knife, sword, or gun in rare interactions where a muggle sees you or you see them causing trouble against someone else, this is probably the best spell to use because it doesn’t cause any damage to the other person.” He then paused and turned back to his class, as if remembering something vital.  

“Though, let me be completely clear when I say, do not use magic in front of Muggles until you’re of leg – actually. Scratch that, don’t do magic in from of Muggles ever… Uh… Forget that I said that …” Giggles emitted all around the room.

“A-Anyway uh, let’s separate into groups of two, corresponding with the numbers on your desks, and I’ll direct you….Uh…” The professor waved his wand a bit to reveal numbers on the right corners of each of the desks. “As soon as you find your partners…  Stand up and spread out, with your wands at your ready, in front of your partner in the back of the room.”

All at once, the kids stood up and spread throughout the room. Apollo looked immediately to the red number in the corner of his eye. 4… Wait how do I figure out who else has 4?

Apollo looked around the room the room and spotted a desk with the number 4, but no one was sitting there. He frowned. Great… I’m the only one without a partner. This always happens. He glanced at Clay, who had been paired up with a girl with brown hair in two braids. Then he glanced at Klavier who had been paired with some Gryffindor girl with red hair and a rowdy voice. Okay…. Athena was somewhere in the back of the room, having already found her partner.

Apollo cocked his head to the side and turned around to check the desks behind his when he was tapped on the shoulder. A tall boy with black hair and a brooding frown stood before him and Apollo nearly jumped out of his skin.

It’s the guy who glared at me during sorting! The boy pointed to his desk. “Guess we’re partners, Justice.” Apollo shuddered and scratched him neck, awkwardly. “Hahaha… Y-Yeah… Uh..”

“Blackquill.”

“U-Uh-huh…”

The boy shrugged and moved to an empty spot in the room as directed, Apollo following reluctantly behind. Then Apollo walked a few paces away from him to put space between them, as instructed. He felt as if he were fixing to participate in a dual to the death especially after Blackquill pulled his brown wand from his lapel as if he were drawing a sword from a sheath. Uh-oh.

“Now, remember, the incantation is ‘Expelliarmus.’ Repeat after me, ‘Expelliarmus,’” said Professor Wright weaving in and out or the groups of two. Everyone repeated. “Good guys,” he said with a bright smile. “Now, let’s work on that wand movement to pair with the word.  Everyone, try it with me.”

The professor looked around for a minute to make all eyes were on him before taking his wand and drawing a line starting from his top right to where his arm was level to the floor. “Move your wand like this before casting to your opponent.  After you do it a couple of times, it’ll be muscle memory.

“Now I just want you to try and take the other person’s wand. If the wand doesn’t fly directly toward you the first time, don’t worry about it. If you can’t get the other person to drop their wand the first time, keep practicing with your partner until you do. I’m coming around to make sure everyone gets this spell.”

Apollo felt his forehead grow slightly sweaty. Oh no. Oh no. Ohhh no. He quickly grabbed his own wand from his own lapel pocket and pointed it opposite of the way Blackquill was pointing his. It’s not like we’re actually fighting… it’s just to learn the spell. That’s all! Stop worrying, Justice! Don’t freak out!

“Don’t worry, Justice,” Blackquill said with a taunting smirk at his lips. “I’ll make it quick.” He began to draw his wand near his nose, as it was a sword. If Apollo were anywhere in the muddle world right now, he would assume Blackquill liked samurai TV shows or something.

Glancing between the other students who hadn’t even started yet and Professor Wright, Apollo brought his own wand up, level to his chin and smiled. “Y-yeah right, Blackquill. E-EXPELARMUS!” Apollo shouted, moving the wand the way he was instructed.

Really, he should have expected Blackquill to dodge the light and cast his own spell. “Expelliarmus!” Apollo felt his wand being tugged from his hand without his own control and onto the floor.

“Great job, Mr. Blackquill! 5 points to Slytherin!” said Professor Wright from behind Apollo. “Apollo, you may want to think about your opponent’s reaction as you cast your attack. Pick up your wand let’s see if we can’t try this again, yeah?” He smiled warmly.

Apollo bit the inside of his cheek and picked wand up from the floor. Then he moved back to his place in front of Blackquill, but the Professor had directed Blackquill to a different partner. Apollo raised an eyebrow but stood in position anyways.

Professor Wright, however, stood in front of him instead. ` “Uh… Professor, what are you doing-“

A grin tore the side of the Professor’s face. “I’m teaching you, Apollo, please pay attention. Just remember, it’s about how much quicker you are than the other person. Now, get back into position.” With wide eyes, Apollo reluctantly raised his wand at his teach. His eyebrows furrowed together. What was he supposed to do? Attack the teacher?

A few minutes must have passed with Apollo just standing there, in attack position. At some point, Wright sighed. “Apollo, this is the first step to defense. You need to do this.”

Apollo bit the inside of his cheek and lowered his arm. “You’re just going to let me, though? That’s not what you told us to do.”

Professor Wright smiled. “I’m not trying to duel you. I just want to see you do it. It isn’t important that I try to take your wand. You all will start being introduced to dueling next year.”

Apollo glanced around the room. Some people had switched partners but no one was directly staring at him. So he straightened his body up. He stood as tall as he could and nodded, holding his wand back up.  “I-I’m sorry, sir. I’m fine, now!”

“Good, boy! All right. Draw your wand and-“

Apollo drew his diagonal line as he said the incantation with “Expelliarmus!”

This time, a stronger beam of red shot out from Apollo’s wand. Professor Wright hands seemed to spasm and his knuckles turned white as if he were still trying to grip his wand. Then his hand flared out and he let go, dropping the wand. He winced.

“Pr-professor, are you okay?” Apollo asked hurriedly. The professor scoffed as he bent over to pick up his wand. “Of course I am, Apollo. Good job. Though I think you should practice that with a few friends in your spare time, yeah?”

Apollo blinked and then nodded. “U-uh huh… Y-Yes sir.”