#(yeah there was the big epiphany but also several smaller ones)

[daisywords]

girl help I'm having ideas above my ability-to-kill-my-darlings level

[atomicblasphemy]

Eda becomes some kind of flying taxi service

Amity: So I told Malphas he needed to have a talk with Gary about our coffee break space.

Emira: Mhmm.

Amity: I mean, for one, Gary never cleans after himself. Like, I once saw him leaving his mug dirty for over a week. A WEEK. It was disgusting. It was just sitting dare on the table for days. I didn’t want to clean it, I’m not a doormate. But it was dire and I had no choice. And don’t get me started on the fridge situation. My lunch has been getting smaller by the day and I can’t seem to figure out the culprit.

Emira: That’s nice, Mittens. Isn’t it nice, Edric?

Edric: What?

Amity: Will you guys pay attention? I need some advice on...

*Windows cracking”

Edric: What the...

Hooty: AMITY FELICITY BLIGHT! IT IS I, HOOTCIFER, HARBINGER OF THY DESTINY. COME WITH ME AND I SHALL REVEAL WHAT JOYS THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR THEE.

Amity: I... What?

Hooty: DOTH THOU DARE DEFY FATE? *Swallows Amity*

Emira: ... What just happened? Wasn’t that Eda’s house demon? You know, the one we met before Grom?

Edric: I think it was. I’m not sure though, he sounded more... ominous...

SEVERAL EMOTIONAL MOMENTS LATER

Luz: It’s early... Do you really have to go already?

Amity: Yeah... I still have to finish homework, and I have work tomorrow. But I’ll come back here tomorrow... If you’re okay with it, that is...

Luz: YES! I mean... yeah, I’d love that...

Amity: Anyway... I guess I should get going, we’re not exactly neighbors after all. See you tomorrow then.

Luz: Wait, I have an idea. *Turns around* EDA!

Eda: *Not stopping her flight practice* What?

Luz: Do you think you could give Amity a lift back to her place?

Eda: Oh? Not walking your girlfriend home? Thought you’d be more chivalrous.

Luz: *Showing that Amity’s tomato like properties are infectious* EDAAA!

Eda: Sorry, sorry. But yeah, sure. *Picks up Amity and flies away at neckbreaking speeds. She soon slows down to a more reasonable pace* So... Amity, before I give you that whole “What are your intentions?” scare there’s something I’ve been itching to ask you. What made you chose to dye your hair of all colors, and how did Odd-alia react?

Amity: Luz... Me... Girlfriend...

Eda: Ugh... Don’t make me regret making harmless fun of young love, kiddo.

ONE AWKWARD TAXI EDA FLYING SESSION LATER.

Eda: *Placing Amity on the Blight Manor’s front porch and looking at the two bewildered faces watching her* Sup. *Turns to fly away* Oh right, I guess purple here is in not in the mental state to give any explanations.

Amity: Small ceremony... Human realm... Only friends and family... Boscha is not invited...

Emira: Are you... Edalyn Clawthorne?

Eda: Last I checked I was.

Emira: You look different.

Eda: Oh right... Look, it was a very eventful night so let me start with the simpler one. King, you remember him, right? Tiny, angry, looks like a cat, was the MC at the last Grom along with Goops.

Emira and Edirc: Yeah...?

Eda: He’s harnessing all the powers of yelling. I guess all children his age kinda do that but he went above and beyond and actually learned how to make things go boom with his voice alone, and that’s why both Luz and your sister are still alive. And now I’m realizing I should probably go hide all those Death Metal records I got in human realm. Can’t risk turning my son into a weapon of mass destruction. Not yet.

Edric: That’s... nice... I guess?

Emira: How about Mittens?

Eda: Right. She and Luz are an item now. It was adorable, I called her Luz’s girlfriend then I think it finally really hit her and that made her go all catatonic on me. Sorry about that.

Edric: WHAT?

Emira: Okay, okay... So came out with it? Ed and I have some scores to settle.

Eda: I... Both, I guess? I don’t know, it was sort of at the same time. But I don’t want to spoil it for when she recovers. So I guess us three are kinda family now, huh? Tangentially at least, like you’re my nephew and niece-in-law or something like that, I don’t know.

Eda: The important thing is: there’s a huge waterway under my house and I think it is actually part of my property. Now I need to figure out a way to find out how big that place actually is without letting town hall know so my taxes won’t go up. Can’t push my tax evasion skills. I mean, can you imagine it? The Owl Lady, the most successful outlaw in Boiling Isles history: arrested for fiscal crimes.

Emira: Okay... That’s... cool.

Edric: Yeah... Not to pry though, but what happened to you?

Eda: Oh... Me? I got very high. Not on purpose. Then I became a Harpy. Also not on purpose.

Emira: ... I’m sorry but I’m not following the cause and effect relation between those thing.

Eda: Neither am I. All I remember is: Hooty spiked some cookies; I revisited that time I gauged out my dad’s eye, also not on purpose; then when I push my ex away (You know, Raine Whispers, current head of the Bard Coven, lead a small revolutionary guerrilla, now under mind control. Oh, yeah, guess they’d make to sure to keep it under wraps, anyway...)

Eda: Then it got pretty weird. I got trapped by this tall hooded sun and moon figure and I’m not sure whether that was an actual memory (I did get arrested a few time after all) or if it was just a hallucinogenics induced manifestation of the subconscious trauma of being persecuted for years by the state. Anyone’s guess to which was it.

Eda: And then I became Icarus, fell into the sea, and became a piece of paper. Then I was at the beach, the piece of paper was also there, but that’s not important... I hope... Anyway, so, my curse was there too an for a moment there I thought we were gonna play some chess, but nah.

Eda: I did have an epiphany though. The sky changed colors and now I’m a Harpy. Gotta a lot of stuff to process right.

Edric: *Wide eyed and mouth agape* Mother of Titan...

Emira: *Same as her brother* Do you... need a hug or something?

Eda: Ehh... Don’t worry, I’ll get through. I mean, I’m a badass Harpy woman now, what else could I want? I appreciate the thought though. Anyway, I’ll get going, Luz has probably been stuck in the same place ever since I left. Was nice seeing you guys. *Turns around*

Edric: WAIT, EDA.

Eda: Yeah? What is it?

Edric: Can you take me flying a little bit like you did Mittens? Pretty please?

Emira: *Elbowing her brother* EDRIC!

Edric: What? There’s a tall and friendly winged lady standing in our front porch and calling us family...

Eda: Kinda family.

Edric: Kinda family. And we only went flying, on dad’s staff mind you, like twice. And I mean, look at her. That’s clearly a person with next to no regard for speed limits or any form of flying safety. *Turns to Eda* I mean that as the highest of compliments, by the way.

Eda: *Nodding and smiling* Well, I’m not one to brag... But you’re on point there.

Edric: *Turning back to Emira* See? It will be fun. *Turns back to Eda while making puppy eyes* So, pretty pretty please?

Eda: Eh... What the heck, why not? I do need to get a better hold of this flying thing after all. Fair warning though, I only had these for about an hour, I’m not taking responsibility for any loss of limb or life. *Picks Edric up and place him on one of her shoulders and turns to Emira.* You sure you don’t wanna come with? There’s plenty of room.

Emira: ... I never said I didn’t want to...

Eda: *Placing Emira on her other shoulder* Alritty then, make sure to hold on tight to my hair, just don’t fall into it. Can’t promise I’ll find you if you do. And up we go. *Takes off at neckbreaking speed*

Eda: So... I tried that to Mittens herself, but she was too lost in elation to form coherent sentences. What’s the deal with her hair color change? Why did she pick that specific shade of... pink? Lavender? Purple? Whatever, I was a tad curious about that choice coming from one of Odd-alia’s offspring. So either of you can shed some light on it for me?

Emira: Eh, what can I say? Our little Mittens is growing up, coming out of her shell. I mean, if you told me a month that she’d have a girlfriend by now I’d call it bullshit. Though I would have guessed Luz as being the most likely candidate. In any case, I’m pretty proud of the steps our baby sister is taking, not gonna lie.

Edric: Yeah... Same. But I can’t shake the feeling that it is at least in part an act of rebellion against mom. She did always have that weird fixation with Amity’s hair after all...

Eda: Hum, I see. This actually takes me to my follow up question. How did your mom react when she saw it?

Edric: *chuckling* Oh, I thought she’d have a stroke right then and there.

Emira: Yup. Never saw mom that mad. You’d think the two of us would be the ones to cause it but nope, Mittens beat us to it. Again, I’m a proud big sister.

Eda: Hehehe Sounds about right. You two are the troublemaking type then huh?

Edric: That’s a way of putting.

Emira: We like thinking of ourselves as practical entertainers however. We are in the Illusions track so it comes with the territory. Buuut...

Edric: We indulge in some prankery every now and then, and there’s no one better at it than us.

Eda: Is that so? Ever get in trouble for it?

Edric: Sometimes... When we (kind of accidentally) cause more property damage than intended because SOMEONE botched their end of the spell and caused Bump’s office to almost go up in flames.

Emira: Awww. Ed, I told you already. Don’t beat yourself over it. Accidents happen. You’ll do better next time.

Edric: HEY!

Emira: Anyway, Eda. Why were you asking about Mittens’ hair?

Eda: Oh... You guys are going to love this. I think. Anyway, did you know that me and your parents attended Hexside at the same time?

Edric: Yeah, I remember mom seeing one of your wanted posters a while back and calling you “Ewdalyn Clownthorne” or something like that.

Eda: Ah, haven’t heard that in a minute, Titan those were the day. Anyway, as you might have guessed by now me and your mother we... had a bit of a rivalry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t top the nickname she gave me, best I could do was Odd-alia. No offense, but Blight doesn’t give much to work with in terms of puns, can’t get funnier than that. Especially when thrown at her.

Emira: None taken. And yeah. I mean, it is fun when people call us stuff like “The Blights of Hexside”. But it is kinda sad to know we’ll never get a nickname as cool as Owl Lady or Lord Calamity.

Eda: Oh, my fame still precedes me huh? You know, I think the three of us will get along just fine.

Edric and Emira: Yup, we sure will.

Eda: Anyway, flattery aside... Part of the reason why I love poking your mom with a short stick was, other than how aggravated she’d get and how surprisingly good at paying in kind she was, the fact that she was in the Oracle track. You see, that made her a challenge. And given how she would actually prank me back (successfully, mind you, I have no shame in admitting that) I feel like like we actually a weird sort of friends, or at least we reached some kind of agreement that we were fair game for each other. And trust me, she was ruthless, and very good at escalating things.

Emira: Wow...

Edric: That sounds nothing like the mom we know. Other than the ruthless or the escalation part, that is still true.

Eda: Yeah, anyway. Part of our little game was keeping it hidden. Neither your dad or my sister actually ever realized what was going on until... well, I’ll get to that.

Eda: Anyway, so some lovely day I notice how weirdly obsessed with her hair Odd-alia was. This gives me some ideas, but I know I have make this the mother of pranks, so I decided to just keep a watch, to figure out what the best way to go about it would be. And I was also making those smaller pranks, something to throw her Oracle powers off-balance, you know?

Eda: Well... Back in the day your mother wasn’t monochromatic as she is nowadays. She’d circle through all colors you can think off on her accessories (which she used an ungodly amount, and no judgement it just never seems physically possible). But I noticed that there was one very specific color that she never got anywhere near her.

Edric and Emira: No way...

Eda: And as I said, she was weirdly obsessed with her hair... And as top student of the Potions track making hair dye was child’s play for me... So... do the math... And guess what very specific color was? I may be bad at color names, but I won’t ever, EVER, forget that particular shade.

Edric and Emira: No... freaking... way...

Eda: Yes... freaking... way... I mean, seriously, the first time I saw Amity’s new hair I had to do a double take. The resemblance was just too uncanny.

Emira: And what did she do?

Eda: Well... For a couple weeks there I thought I’d have to place a restriction order on her or something like that. Ultimately the two of us, along with Lilith and Alador (they were our attorneys, no they were not qualified for the role.) sitting across from each other in a very formal looking table, signing a contract. An actual freaking contract setting clear limits to our mutual pranks, like what was off limits like her hair or my then partner, how long was the maximum period a prank could last, so on. Surprisingly enough that was Al’s idea.

Eda: And let me tell you, that was probably the toughest negotiation I ever been a part of. Shame it was not long before I dropped out so never could really put it to use. You know, sometime I think this actually made Odd-alia realize she wanted to be a business woman. I mean, before that she’d go off about how she’d join the Emperor’s Coven all the damn time.

Edric: Wow...

Emira: I second that. Really, wish I had brought something I could take notes on. You completely blown anything we ever did out of the water.

Edric: No wonder she never told us that. You know what? I think I’m dying my hair that color first thing tomorrow.

Emira: Can we tell Amity this story?

Eda: Are you two actually thinking of antagonizing her? Are you crazy? First off, she’s your mother, she holds power over you. All you’d accomplish is getting grounded. Not to mention that she has decades of experience on you, even if she wasn’t your mom, she’d demolish the two of you. No offense, you’re still young, naive, you lack guidance in the ways of the pranksters.

Edric and Emira: *Dejectedly* Ohh... You’re right...

Eda: Hey... Don’t look so gloomy. I see a lot of potential in you, in both of you. *Sighs* I can’t believe I’m gonna take more kids under my wing... But.... Have you guys ever heard of the Bad Girl Coven Initiative? We annoy our foes into submission.

Edric and Emira: WE’RE LISTENING.

Eda: Heh... We’ll get along just fine indeed.

[yeenybeanies]

Starstruck

ok so aftermath was Kinda Dumb but i got to see johnny’s stupid face some more & i just reblogged a whole lotta gifs of him onto my main account lmao so here we are also i haven’t proofread this yet bc it’s 1am  i’m tired

mortal kombat | johnny cage & gray brooks ( oc )

1,471 words

strong language warning

reblogs > likes !! thanks for reading !!

What can she say? She’s starstruck. 

Well––she’s partially starstruck, and partially terrified. It’s not every day that Gray gets to see her favorite actor, the one and only Johnny Cage.

“ Woah. You’re . . . seriously tiny. ”  His voice booms high above her, louder and richer in person that she’s ever heard it on the big screen.  “ You’re, like, smaller-than-my-action-figure tiny. ”

Yeah. That’s where the terrified aspect comes in. Johnny Cage, of course, is human. And Miss Gray Brooks? She is a borrower. She is a grand four inches tall, staring, starstruck/terrified, at Johnny F. Cage. ( The F stands for Fucking. Or maybe it doesn’t. She doesn’t know what his middle name is, or if it even starts with F. ) 

“ Uhm–– . . .! ”  Shit. She should probably run. Borrowers are supposed to run and hide when there are humans around. But her legs––they feel like jelly. They feel like jelly that’s cemented itself to the ground, feeling like they’re about to give out under her at any moment, while not letting her move from this very exposed spot on the floor.

For a long moment, neither of them, human nor borrower, move. Gray can’t hear anything but the blood roaring in her ears. Is she still breathing? Oh, Gods, she must be the worst borrower ever.

It’s Johnny that does eventually break his statue act first. He bends at the waist, looming over her diminutive person, and lowers his sunglasses to look at her without any barriers before his eyes.

“ Hunh. Y’know, if I didn’t just see you walking, I’d think you actually are an action figure. ”  Whether it’s intentional or just a natural quirk of his, Johnny flashes a trademarked Johnny Cage Smirk. ( Gods, Gray thinks she might just swoon. )  “ You gonna say somethin’, sweetums? Can you even talk? ” 

He lowers himself to a crouch and reaches forward, index finger extended. He means to poke. That’s enough to snap the little being from her stupor and skitter backwards. Johnny’s smile only widens.

“ See? I knew you were real. ”  His hand retreats, coming to rest on the bend on his knee.

“ Y-yeah, I should, um––I should go . . .! ”  She manages to squeak out. Perhaps later she’ll kick herself over how meek she sounds, but that will have to wait.

“ Hah! ”  Gray flinches. He’s loud.  “ Knew you could talk too! ”  His outburst has Gray covering her ears and flinching. The starstruck-ness is quickly wearing off.

“ Mr. Cage . . . you’re yelling . . .! ”  She takes another step back, hands pressed firmly to either side of her head. His voice is booming, shaking her very bones. ( Or maybe she’s just started shivering in her surging fright. ) 

“ Oh––shit, sorry, I––wait, you know my name? ”  The human puts his hands to the floor, steps his legs out behind him, and lowers his chest and belly to the floor. With his chin resting atop his folded forearms, he’s only a few inches above Gray’s eye level, and close enough now that she can feel the gusts from each breath he takes.

He’s . . . so much bigger up close.

Gray couldn’t stifle her shaking if she tried. Oh, she should run. She really should run, but, under those big, brown eyes, she’s frozen yet again.

“ Aw, c’mon now. Don’t go quiet on me. You were just talking. ”  He watches her expectantly. It’s reminiscent of a cat toying with a mouse––at least, that’s what comes to Gray’s mind.

“ Um . . . if I talk . . . will you let me go? ”  Much like the rest of her body, her voice quivers. It’s rather pathetic, she thinks––yet another thing to berate herself over later. That’s assuming she sees a  “ later. ”

Something looking like an epiphany crosses the human’s features. He clears his throat and shimmies back, giving Gray a bit more room.  “ Well––yeah. I mean, I’m not gonna hold you hostage or anything. I’ve just never seen a–a living doll before. ”  He lifts two fingers to gesture to her for emphasis.

Gray’s cheeks heat up.  “ I’m––I’m not a doll. ”  She swallows thickly, trying to choke down some of the fear.  “ And, um, yes. I know your name. I’ve . . . seen a lot of your movies . . .. ” 

“ Really? ”  His grin widens, nearly splitting his face in two. Gray is experiencing a myriad of conflicting emotions right now. Terror? Embarrassment? Elation? Perhaps a little indignation at being called a doll?  “ How? Are there, like, little TVs? “ 

“ No, I–I used to live in a, uh––in a movie theater, ”  she admits, eyes askance. It’s hard to look Johnny in the eye at all, let alone meet his gaze when he’s ( still ) so close.

Gray was in that theater for years. It was one of the best places to live. She could scurry around in the darkness, collecting fallen scraps of popcorn, candy, and various other concession snacks. Best of all, she could catch every Johnny Cage film that came out during her residency––along with several re-showings of older films. It was a tragic day when that theater closed down, forcing the borrower to move elsewhere.

She’s loathe to admit to his face, but she’d found herself with a little ( or a rather sizeable ) crush on the human before her. Never in a thousand years did she ever think she’d actually meet him, though. Up close like this, he’s . . . well, he’s still handsome, but self preservation is hindering those giddy feelings.

“ Okay, so, I’m just coming up with more questions here. A teeny tiny person one: exists; two: is a fan of my movies; and three: managed to make it all the way onto a secure special forces base. I might think to accuse you of spying, but you’ve broken into the food stores, as opposed to anything with sensitive information. Never mind that you’re . . . I  mean . . .. ” 

She knows what he means. It brings some red to her cheeks. Yes, she’s small. She gets it. Gray fidgets with her hands and chews on the insides of her cheeks.  “ Yeah . . . so, can I, uh, go now? ” 

“ What? We haven’t even covered the basics yet! Like what are you? What’s your name? What was your favorite Johnny Cage movie? ”  He looks less like a predatory cat now and more like a child that’s found a new toy. That’s a bit scarier, Gray decides.

“ Mr. Cage, I–I really should be leaving . . .. You’re not supposed to see me . . .. ”  She tries to backpedal some more. Johnny shifts, head lifted and one hand moving towards her, but he stops himself when she squeaks and cowers.

“ Um. Hey, Thumbelina? No need to act so scared. Hey, c’mon, I’m not gonna hurt you. ”  Gently he prods at her shoulder with his index finger, rocking her on her feet once. She shakes under his touch.  “ Ooookay, ”  he says, pulling his hand back again.  “ Alright. I’m scaring you. Listen, you can go, and I won’t mention to anyone that I saw you on two conditions, okay? ” 

Gray peeks up at him through her arms. His smile looks like it should be reassuring, but it definitely isn’t. Conditions means coercion.

“ Condition one: you tell me your name. Con––– ” 

“ Gray. Gray Brooks, ”  she interrupts. He can have her name. There’s nothing he can do with it anyway.

“ Alllright. That’s kinda a cool name. You sound like a hollywood star. ”  He winks, though it does little to calm the borrower.  “ Okay, condition two: you, little Miss Gray, have to promise me another conversation. ” 

A what?

Gray feels her heart drop, feels her blood run cold. He’s blackmailing her into seeing him again? 

She must really look scared, because Johnny quickly waves a placating hand. He clears his throat, the sound making her wince.  “ Okay, okay––I’m not gonna tell anyone about you regardless. But . . . you can’t blame me for being curious. It’s not every day you meet a tiny person that watches your movies! C’mon, darlin’, how about you meet me here again tomorrow and I’ll crack open an MRE for us to munch on while we chat. ” 

Food. Food is always a powerful persuasion tool.

Gray swallows, and nods awkwardly, if only to appease the human. Whether or not she intends to actually meet him here tomorrow, she’s not so sure. As of right now, it’s leaning towards a big NO. 

“ Great! ”  Johnny pushes up quickly, clapping his hands mid-pushup, and jumps to his feet. The combination of the rapid movement and the loud noise startle Gray enough to get her moving. She bolts, slipping under one of the food storage shelves and vanishing from his sight. Johnny blinks, a little taken aback by how quick she is, but he shrugs.  “ See ya tomorrow then. ” 

Maybe.

As his heavy footsteps retreat from the room, Gray slowly releases a breath she’d been holding. She bows her head, catching it in her hands.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could she let herself get caught like that? 

But also . . ..

Holy shit, she just met JOHNNY F. CAGE.

[transkenobis]

hey uh, throwback to 2019 when i made a rand fanmix. posting it because it can't hurt, but note that the track descriptions and song choices are all unedited.

. BLACKOUT — frank turner

but it’s not enough anymore

we can’t turn just around and close the door on the world

it’s asking uneasy questions

this one’s for winternight and the eye of the world. it’s the start of the world going to hell and being overwhelmed by the shadow (“are you afraid of the darkness?”), and it’s essentially rand against the world. he can’t just walk away from it— his house is attacked by trollocs, and the only option he has is to go with moiraine. he doesn’t really know what he’s up against, only that he’s up against something bad.

. HERO — family of the year

let me go

I don’t wanna be your hero

I don’t wanna be a big man

I just wanna fight with everyone else

this song’s all about not wanting to be a part of something big, just wanting a simple and easy life. at the beginning of the great hunt, rand really does not want to be the dragon reborn— I mean, who would? but it’s a role that he’s forced into, nonetheless. at his heart, he’s just a farmboy who wants to go home. moiraine kind of forces his destiny on him, not letting him postpone it or shove it aside. but at this point, he just doesn’t want to be a hero. the song itself is very soft (and acoustic to boot), which I think nicely represents the simple life that rand wants.

. UNUSUAL — typhoon

get your pitchforks out

the crowd is coming and they’ve named you

why, gentle mother, must you wring your hands and weep?

tide brings you a sword, sword will cut you free

dead demands a tribute in the hour of our need

blood be the river to wash the ledgers clean

oh, it took so much self-restraint to not put more than two songs from this album on this playlist. offerings is just so good AND highly existential, so if you’re wanting more sad rand hours, go listen to it. I think this song best fits rand’s start of really being the dragon reborn, around (you guessed it) the dragon reborn. the world is kind of a mess, and he doesn’t really know what to do, so he just does what he thinks he should do. he’s chosen by the pattern— the world demanded a dragon to save the world, and he was the unlucky soul born on the slopes of dragonmount. you know, his blood on the rocks of shayol ghul and all that. this song, like the one preceding it, is softer— rand hasn’t hardened himself like he will in later books. however, around halfway through, it gets louder and brings in more drums. tdr is the start of rand’s transition from farmboy to dragon reborn, in both good ways and bad.

. KIDS — mgmt

we like to watch you laughing

picking insects off of plants

no time to think of consequences

this song focuses a lot on the idea of self-control/self-restraint— not doing more than you have to, good or bad. it reminds me a lot of rand’s earlier experiences with channeling and being ta’veren. saidin is dangerous, what with the taint and all, and drawing too much of either half of the one power has severe consequences. he’s not as in control of his ta’veren-ness as he will be in later books— like his channelling, it’s a bit all over the place. the quote at the beginning of the music video (it’s friedrich nietzsche, not mark twain, but whatever) also ties in with this idea— if you’re not careful, you can become the very thing you were fighting against.

. LOUDER THAN EVER — cold war kids

I was carrying my cheek

I was digging my strange

I was taking you for granted

you were holding the reins

but I can hear you louder than ever

whisper to me, help me remember

I can’t see you but we’re still together

I can hear you louder than ever

moiraine’s “death” is a tipping point for rand— he feels like he could’ve prevented it, even though moiraine literally tells him that he couldn’t, and that what happened was the best possible outcome. after she passes through the portal, rand realizes that he took her presence for granted. her advice was good, if often unwelcome, and after her death rand just ends up going off the rails in so many different ways. when she returns in a memory of light, he realizes how helpful she was to him.

. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT WITH ME — cold war kids

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

I’m trying not to let it show

the taint on saidin is just really like that, huh? rand can tell that something’s wrong, with lews therin’s voice in his head. the thing is, he doesn’t let anyone know because he’s 1) scared of showing weakness and 2) sane people don’t normally hear voices. this song is fast, but not in an upbeat way— it feels chaotic, panicked, and just barely in control. the singer is almost shouting the lyrics instead of singing them, contributing to that feeling. I think it embodies most male channellers’ experiences with the taint— it isn’t smooth or calm like saidar, it’s a raging river of fire.

. DREAMS OF CANNIBALISM — typhoon

unhand me, I am not a criminal

but I’ve played a guilty part

in the modern sense that one pretends their life is original

I wrote a book and I will call it something cynical

the story’s slow, the hero does not change

and if he can, then he won’t anyway

instead his foes and lovers all become identical

this song ends with the line “soon enough you will be dancing at my funeral,” and I can’t come up with something that encompasses rand-as-the-dragon more. people are terrified of him— hell, even he’s terrified of him. the world doesn’t want a dragon, but they got one anyways. the second set of verses above is a more textual examination of rand at this point— a crown of swords through crossroads of twilight is incredibly slow, and rand doesn’t change much throughout those books (hence why this song covers 4 books). he could make a change in his life if he tried, but he doesn’t, since he thinks he needs to shut others out to protect them. the whole song seems to be conveying the idea of being stuck and not going anywhere, but running from yourself, which, to be fair, is very close to what rand experiences in his own head in these books.

. GHOSTS THAT WE KNEW — mumford and sons

so lead me back

turn south from that place

and close my eyes to my recent disgrace

so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light

’cause oh, that gave me such a fright

but I will hold on as long as you like

just promise me we’ll be alright

I picked a soft song for the softer scene in the gathering storm where min and rand are talking about how cold he’s become. he realizes that he doesn’t have to fake an uncaring and unemotional nature— to be human is to feel, and it’s not bad to be human. the song is about going through something that’s wearing you down (a common interpretation is depression), and knowing that you have someone helping you through it. min sticks with rand during almost everything that happens from lord of chaos to the end of the series. she’s a support for him, and too stubborn to ever leave him, no matter what.

. DARKER — typhoon

I tried, you know, just to toe the line

love all the neighbors and live in the light

sure, I stumbled sometimes

self-contained; a convenient lie

every source of pain, every sting of pride

had to come from the outside

you won’t even fight me fair

wait for the darkness, catch me unaware

yeah, you pull me close

then you twist the knife

of course, that happy, warm feeling can’t last, because that scene is followed by semirhage being sadistic and deciding that now is the perfect time to use this new torture device. because of that, rand ends up shutting himself off even more than before. he’s suspicious and cruel, and thinks only for himself. it’s scary, frankly. darker, like all the songs on the album that it’s from, is very existential, though this song is, fittingly, darker than the others. it’s filled with the sense of impending death and strong suspicion that characterizes rand at this point in his life. he tried to open up, and look where it got him. this quick change is mirrored by the sharp musical contrast between the quiet, acoustic ‘ghosts that we knew’ and and the more drum-heavy, electric, and distorted ‘darker.’

. MOUNTAIN AT MY GATES — foals

I see a mountain in my way

it’s looming larger by the day

I see a darkness in my fate

I’ll drive my car without the brakes

through lanes and stone rows

black granite, wind blows

fire lake and far flame

go now but come again

dark clouds gather ’round

will I run or stand my ground

oh, when I come to climb

show me the mountain so far behind

yeah, it’s farther away

its shadow gets smaller day after day

the obvious scene for this song is the events leading up to rand’s epiphany on dragonmount. I mean, ‘mountain’ is in the song’s name. I think that this song works well to represent the weight and lack of direction he feels in the days building up to that. something that works especially well about this song is how it builds, both lyrically and musically. the song starts with a hopeless and dark tone to the lyrics, and stays that way for a while. the bridge (second set of lyrics above) is where the tone starts to change. the bridge also uses a lot of imagery that one can tie to the buildup— the streets of ebou dar, the rocky and windy peak of dragonmount, the belly of fire in the mountain itself and tar valon, the city that the peak looks over. the song then crescendos into its final segment, where the singer sings “give me my way/give me my love/give me my choice/give me my fate/give me my lungs/give me my voice.” to me, these represent rand’s realization that the reason the wheel keeps turning is so that people can live again and love again.

. COLORFUL — jukebox the ghost

we're just getting started

take your fears and let them go

for the lovers and the broken-hearted

I! love! this! song! I haven’t found another song that captures that feeling of hope in darkness: when everything around you has gone to hell, but you keep going because the darkness isn’t all there is. that’s how veins of gold ends— with rand realizing that there’s something worth fighting and living for. the gathering storm literally ends with rand laughing without bitterness for the first time in months, if not years— he’s finally looking on the bright side of life again.

. BEAUTIFUL LIFE — the collection

you do not have to be good

even the best of us have been misunderstood

so get up onto your feet

the sun is shining repentance through the leaves

its rays will wash you clean

this one’s for the end of a memory of light, when rand decides to leave and live the rest of his life on his terms. he wants to explore the world, without the pressure of his past and who he was weighing on him. he has a chance to slow down and appreciate this “beautiful life,” instead of rushing through it towards tarmon gai’don. and that’s what this song is about, i think. it’s not super peppy, and neither is rand at this point. it’s more of a quiet and peaceful acceptance.

. ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE — the killers

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go

you know, you know, no, you don’t, you don’t

I wanna shine on in the hearts of men

I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

over and in, last call for sin

while everyone’s lost, the battle is won

with all these things that I’ve done

first of all, the wheel of time series takes place over the span of two years, and rand does so much within that time. within this playlist, I don’t think of this song as an ending, rather a summary of rand’s life through the books. I specifically want to talk about the iconic refrain of “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier.” it serves as a bookend to rand’s arc as a character— initially he refuses his role as the dragon reborn (even though he’s suited for it, due to his heritage and upbringing) because he doesn’t want to fight in that way. during the bulk of the series, he embraces a role as a fighter, even though he doesn’t have the soul for it. and finally, he realizes that he isn’t a weapon, and that he never was. on another note, the line “these changes ain’t changing me/that cold-hearted boy I used to be” hits a bit too close to his character.

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT Oneshot: Crossing Paths

Plot: Sometimes, the quickest meeting can still resonate with you, just as the smallest act can still mean a lot...

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment/kudos)

Autumn was an enjoyable time of year for Yokai on the surface. They enjoyed watching the leaves on the trees change color, something that didn't happen much in the Hidden City, as well as the cooler weather. There were even some points during the season where they would be able to walk around without a total disguise, the humans instead thinking it was just an elaborate costume. Humans really were easy to fool.

But, when the weather became a bit too chilly or storm clouds started rolling in, there really was no better way for Yokai to warm up than stopping by their favorite local pizzeria for a slice of comfort food and a chance to catch up with friends. Naturally, Run of the Mill Pizza was no exception to it.

Other Yokai pizzerias might have tried to claim they had the better quality - especially their rival on 19th - but those who both ran and visited Run of the Mill knew that it was they who truly had better pizzas as well as a cozier atmosphere. Their boney manager made sure of that.

Hueso had spent the better part of that afternoon sweeping up stray dead leaves and placing both warm candles and small bouquets of beautiful marigolds on each table. Their Italian style murals had been cleaned and touched up slightly - the skeletal Senor was known to pick up a paint brush from time to time - and he had even cleaned some of the bigger lanterns hanging around the restaurant, their bright green flames shining through clearly. It was the little things, really, that could bring comfort to a customer.

His efforts seemed to be working, with how busy the place was that night. Though, Hueso himself ended up not having much to do. Most people that night were satisfied with sitting down, relaxing and eating good pizza as they enjoyed the warmth of both friends and friendly acquaintances alike, with not too many being up for a deadly maze.

So, Senor Hueso had time to take a quick break. Reattaching his arm, he them strolled to the front of the restaurant. Stepping through the portal, he took a deep breath of autumn air. It was cool, though not enough to see his breath, and the wind was calm as it occasionally blew along his boney cheeks. Truly, it was the perfect evening weather.

He tilted his fedora over his eyes, effectively blocking out the many lights of the surface city, and leaned against the brick wall. Just a moment or two more, then he would get back to work…

Then there was a rustle. The tearing of a garbage bag. The slight bounce of an empty can, and- *smash!* That would be an empty jar. He also heard a voice mutter a curse as they continued making noise.

Pursing his lips a bit, the skeleton glanced over, down the other end of the alley. He could see a figure in the shadows of the dumpster, obviously looking for something with how hard they seemed to be searching. Hueso clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly. Homeless Yokai simply weren't a thing on the surface. If a Yokai was struggling, they'd simply go back to the Hidden City, where it would be much easier to get back on their feet, surrounded by their kind. Although, there were instances that could keep one from going home. Hueso knew that kind of tragedy well… He took a moment to shake his brother’s fleshy face from his mind.

No, more likely, it had to be a human. Some homeless man looking for scraps, and someone who could possibly scare off his more skittish customers. Misfortune or not, the human couldn't stay here. So, as he prepared himself for a lot of screaming and “What are you?!”s, Hueso walked over to the dumpster. “Ey!” He shouted, making the figure flinch, “You get out of there, right now! Go-!”

As the figure tried to climb out and run away, they quickly lost their footing in their surprise, and plummeted to the hard ground with any semi-fresh food they might've collected landing on top of them. ...Huh. The human was a lot smaller than Hueso would've thought. Allowing his eyes to glow slightly, he was able to get a better look as the scavenger turned to face him.

His yellow eyes were wide, fearful even as the rest of his furry face scowled. His big ears folded down as his shaky feet took a couple steps back, his long tail whipping back and forth wildly. “Stay back!” He growled, clawed hands emerging from the sleeves of - a coat? Or, yukata? Or maybe it was just a house robe, Hueso couldn't tell in the dark. But his clothes didn't matter, all the skeleton knew for sure was that this was no human.

“Hey, hey,” Hueso said, raising his hands slightly, “Easy, rata. My apologies, I thought you were human.” The rat man still glared at him, opening his mouth slightly to show his sharp teeth. Hueso met his gaze with ease, never flinching. He was sure he could take this rat if he truly was looking for a fight, though Hueso hoped it didn't come to that. Claw marks in suede suits weren't exactly easy to fix, after all.

“I'm not here to hurt you,” Hueso told him, voice firm even as he gave the shorter man a bit of a flat look, “Though, I do not appreciate people possibly scaring off my customers and making a mess outside my restaurant.”

The rat raised an eyebrow, glancing around for a second. “Restaurant…?” Hueso blinked. That was odd, did he not know about the hidden restaurants? Couldn't he see the subtle signs directing Yokai to them and other secret surface establishments? Perhaps he wasn't a Yokai - not a normal one at least - or maybe he just hit his head and was confused?

“Look, I am just looking for food, okay?” the rat insisted, even going so far as to step forward and grab some of the fallen food he'd collected, “And your dumpster doesn't have much else, so I am leaving, okay?” I don't want any trouble, his tone whispered, I am just trying to survive. So not only was he struggling, but it would seem he was most likely on the run as well.

“...” Hueso sighed through his nose hole. “Wait.” The rat man froze, and once again prepared himself for an attack that never came. “You may come inside, if you are hungry,” Hueso told him, his own tone professional yet still a bit gentle. When the rat gave him another confused look, Hueso lifted a hand and rubbed two of his fingers together, opening the entrance to the pizzeria once more. The rat’s eyes widened in both fear and amazement.

And yet… “No thanks,” he said, shaking his head.

“Come now,” Hueso insisted, “It's fine.” When the rat tried to argue, he added, “I promise that there are no cops in there. There never are, it's safe.”

That made the rat man pause, if only for a moment. “...I have no money.”

“We are not above offering those in need a free meal-”

“And what if those who truly need it are not here, huh?!” he shouted, his Japanese accent thickening a bit.

“What are you-?” Hueso stopped, an epiphany interrupting him. “...You have a family, don't you?” The rat didn't answer, but he also didn't look away. He stood his ground, though Hueso could see in his eyes that he was trying to figure out whether or not he just gave away too much.

“...Wait right here,” Hueso ordered as he began to walk to the portal. Immediately, the rat began to back away. “Ey!” He stopped him again, “Calm down, gordo. I will be right back! If you need food to go, then like I said, we are not above free meals.”

The rat stared at him for what seemed like ages, wise enough to be cautious yet desperate enough to try. Finally, he replied. “You have two minutes, and then I'm gone,” he warned.

“There are no snitches here either, rata, if that is what you're worried about,” Hueso insisted as he began walking again, though he kept his pace brisk. The wait staff still had everything under control, so there was nothing stopping him from walking straight to the kitchen.

Even the best kitchens had the occasional screw up. Earlier that night, the tickets had gotten mixed up, and an extra pepperoni and olives pizza had been made. With no customer to take it, the pizza was set under a heat lamp for now, a couple slices having already taken by peckish employees. Hueso boxed up the rest, as well as a slightly burnt pan of cheese bread, and headed back outside. He was released to see the rat had kept his word just as Hueso kept his

It took a minute for the rat man to accept the gift though, sniffing it carefully. ‘ Ay,’ Hueso thought to himself, ‘Whoever this guy angered, he must have put a pretty big price on his head…’

Eventually though, the rat accepted the boxes. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving a slight bow.

Hueso tilted his hat at him. “De nada. ...So, what can I call you?”

The rat thought about his answer for several seconds, before finally giving a humorless laugh. “Don't really have a name these days…” Not one that he wanted anyone recognizing, at least.

“Ah.” Definitely either on the run or hit with amnesia then. Such a strange man. But even so- “Alright then, Senor Rata.” The rat smirked slightly at the silly name, and Hueso’s eyes softened a bit as he continued. “If you and yours ever truly in need of a meal, you are welcomed to stop by again.”

The rat man looked at him, and for the first time that night, he wasn't looking at the skeleton with cautious or mistrust. Instead, there was only gratitude. “...I will keep that in mind.” With that, he picked up the boxes and ran off, speedy even with such short legs and filled hands. He managed to disappear into the shadows almost instantly. Almost like a ninja…

When he could no longer see the rat, Hueso simply reopened the portal and strolled back inside, his break already taking much longer than he expected. Hopefully there wasn't a disgruntled line of challengers now waiting for him at the maze. “Best of luck to you, gordo,” he mumbled as the mystic doorway closed behind him.

……….

“Awwww yeah, baby!” “Finally!” “That's what I'm talking about!” “Pizza time~!”

Hueso rolled his eyes. “With you four, it always seems to be ‘pizza time’,” he groaned, though if the four turtle brothers could hear his comment, it was promptly ignored in favor of chowing down while their food was still hot.

While he could certainly appreciate the business, Hueso did wish that his newest - and evidently most frequent - customers could be just a bit less rowdy. At least they weren't trying to ‘good cop, bad cop’ the rest of his patrons anymore. Still, he could even admit that they were… decently behaved. Loud and a bit messy (and certainly annoying at times, but then again, what teens weren’t?), but always leaving as much as they could for a tip and being polite to the wait staff at least. Besides, their less than desirable behavior couldn't yet make Hueso forget about the fact that he was no longer a wanted man, so he (albeit a bit reluctantly) figured he could put up with the family of reptilian brothers a few nights a week.

“Oh, hey look!” The youngest, orange-wearing turtle said suddenly, noticing the ad that had placed on the table, “This says that they brought back their ‘famous Run of the Mill cheesy bread, an old classic, limited time only’! And just look at this pic of it! Soooo good!”

His brothers licked their lips at the ad, as well. “We definitely gotta get a plate of that then!” the red turtle nodded, “Oh, hey, we should take some home for Pops too, just as a thanks for all the extra training he's been givin’ us.”

Mouth full, the blue turtle - Pepino, in Hueso’s mind, just based on the turtle’s looks - nodded quickly before swallowing. “Oh yeah, Dad would LOVE that!”

“A reasonable theory,” the final brother smirked, painted-on eyebrows cocked a bit, “Given that he's a rat and all.”

A rat? The skeleton’s eyes widened. Could it be? A rat man having turtle sons wasn't the strangest thing he had ever seen, after all. He doubted that the boys would be able to accurately confirm it, given that they weren't even there all those years ago but…

Hueso’s lips curled into a small smile. He always wondered what happened to that strange rat man, given that he never saw him again. But if these boys truly were his family, healthy and happy even if they weren't the brightest in the bunch, then he must've been doing pretty well for himself. Just as Hueso had hoped for in the back of his mind whenever the old memory crossed it.

Leaning on his arm, he nodded to himself, watching as the boys tried to wave over a waitress and tried to figure out if they should order the regular or spring for the extra cheesy bread.

“Hmph. Glad you and yours made it out alright, Senor Rata…”

THE END

((Heyyy, another Rise oneshot set in the past! I had this idea a few weeks ago, and it stuck with me, so I decided to write it out. I love both these characters, so I thought it'd be interesting if they met - and even better if they actually knew each other, if only briefly. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it!))  

[eviesmyspiritanimal]

We Are Off to See the Wizard Part 3

Summary: Audrey’s Annual Halloween Bash is coming up, and Evie has thought of a rather interesting costume idea for the Core Four. Several of their friends get pulled into the epiphany, too. It’s super fluffy with Huma, Jaudrey, Bal, Jarlos, Core Four fluff, and Mal and Hades father/daughter feels.

  Jay sighed as he closed his eyes. This was as boring as could be.

  Jay liked to think of himself as a good boyfriend, and he did lots of things for his girlfriend just because she asked him to. But this had to be the worst thing ever, he couldn’t help but note as he wriggled uncomfortably in his place on the floor.

  It seemed that Audrey had dragged him here for what he perceived as simply a reason for her to prattle on about her party and whatever else came to her mind.

  “Hey, are you even listening?” a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. Speak of the Queen of Mean.

  Jay looked up at his girlfriend from his significantly lower vantage point. Her eyebrow was raised in an expression of her unimpressed sentiments.

  “Yeah, I’m talking to you,” she told him after he gazed back at her with a questioning look.

  “What do you need, hot lips?” Jay asked her, unashamedly admiring her form as he spoke. As he expected, her face turned somewhat red in response to his flirting, but she forced herself to quickly recover.

  “I want to know what you think of the decorations,” Audrey informed as she stepped aside so he could look behind her at the boxes upon boxes of sparkly garland and whatnot that she had ordered to be brought in for her party.

  “It looks like a lot of them?” Jay tried, unsure of what exactly she wanted from him as he sat up to get a better look at what she had.

  “I know that, you dummy,” she told him with exasperation, but he could easily detect the fondness in her voice. “I’m talking about how pretty they are.”

  “Oh, that. Well, they’re beautiful, but not as gorgeous as you,” Jay cheekily remarked. Audrey grinned at him, bending down and taking his chin in her hand as she gave him his reward for doing what she wanted.

  “Good answer,” Audrey complimented as she pulled away from his lips with an audible smack.

  “Wow, I’m going to have to give you some more good answers, foxy,” Jay winked at her and she found herself somewhat flustered as she arose quickly.

  “These last-minute decorations are just the thing we need to really spice up my big Halloween bash. Ooh! And just wait until you see the costumes I have for us!” Audrey exclaimed with the greatest of eagerness. Jay raised an eyebrow as he stood up.

  “Okay… I’ll bite. What are they?” Jay asked.

  “Only the most wonderful costumes that will completely outdo anything that anyone else could think of,” Audrey excitedly answered.

  “But that doesn’t tell me anything about what we’re actually wearing,” Jay chuckled as he grabbed her waist in his hands, drawing her closer to him to lean his forehead against her own. She made some noise between a contented hum and a giggle as she gripped his forearms in her much smaller hands.

  “If I told you, would it be a surprise anymore?” Audrey questioned sweetly, looking into his eyes with mischievous adoration.

  “No, but I can still act surprised,” Jay replied with a rascally look that was just as wicked as her own.

  “You’re terrible!” Audrey giggled and he just moved forward a bit, kissing her nose.

  “Well, I do have certain ways to persuade it out of you,” Jay told her as he moved over to slowly and deliberately plant kisses on her right cheek and jawbone. She sucked in a breath, allowing him to continue for a moment, but quickly pulled back a bit, his mouth following her like a moth to a flame.

  “Come on, we have work to do. I need your help putting these up,” Audrey tried to distract him from his mission. He didn’t heed her instructions in the least and remained focused on his work. The torturous satisfaction went on for several more minutes before she finally brought an end to it by conceding to his wishes.

  “Fine, fine. You’re going to be a prince and I’m going to be a princess,” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Jay immediately paused in his affection, pulling back to look at her.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah! Why not?”

  “Well, you’re kind of already a princess,” Jay pointed out, very confused by her costume choice.

  “I mean one of those from way back that wore those really big puffy dresses,” Audrey told him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and that he was a total moron for missing it. He furrowed his brow as he considered the idea and then it truly dawned upon him exactly was she was wanting him to be.

  “A prince?” Jay asked, somewhat dumbfounded. Audrey grinned in her ultimate excitement, hopping up and down in his embrace in the midst of her enthrallment.

  “Yes! So we match! It’s what all the super cute couples do!” Audrey grinned widely. Jay cleared his throat, swallowing hard at the prospect of the idea. He really didn’t want to be a stuffy prince for Halloween. He honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted to be or even if he was going to dress up, but that certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.

  But before he had to formulate a response, Carlos came bounding in at a high speed with that ever-present energy that always seemed to radiate off of him wherever he went. He couldn’t help but internally sigh with relief. Saved by the bell.

  “Yo, Evie called and she wants us to come to Mal’s castle. You know, where she stays with Mal a lot,” Carlos told Jay as he came in before getting a huge grin on his face as he suddenly took on a posture that purely reeked of sneakiness.

  “And also…” Carlos turned around to face the opposite direction as he fiddled with something that was out of Jay’s eyesight. Jay could feel Audrey’s increasingly heated glare penetrating the side of his face, so he kept his stare focused on the back of Carlos’ head.

  Just when he was least expecting it, the de Vil spun around to face Jay with a fearsome expression, his teeth bared ferociously as he growled. Jay raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back the laugh at the very obviously fake vampire fangs hanging from the other guy’s mouth. Carlos stuck his tongue out, one eye squinted as he tried to conjure fear in the two of them.

  “Bleh, bleh, bleh!”

  However, as soon as he started to talk, the vampire teeth fell out of his mouth and onto the floor. Carlos looked down at them with a bumfuzzled expression as he sobered.

  “Well, those suck,” Jay deadpanned after a moment, and he smiled victoriously at the small huff that was earned from Audrey.

  “Aren’t they supposed to?” Carlos asked, his eyes wide as he picked them up off the floor. Jay rolled his eyes before turning back to his girlfriend that, judging by her grip on his arms, was about to start demanding that he give her the attention she was owed.

  “Gotta go. See you later?” he bade her farewell, kissing her lips swiftly before she could properly respond and he started off with Carlos.

  “Jay?! How am I going to finish this without you?” Audrey questioned desperately, taking his hand in her own and gesturing at the mess on the floor with her free hand. Jay thought for a moment before offering her that cocky smirk that conveyed just how arrogant he could be.

  “Call Mal. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he drew her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently before taking off out the door.

  Audrey stood there for a moment in complete, unadulterated frustration before finally trying his idea and dialing Mal’s number on her phone. Honestly, that boy was the singular most frustrating and infuriating thing that she had ever had in her life.

  After a few rings, Mal finally picked up.

  “Hello?” Mal’s voice sounded oddly strained as she answered the phone. Audrey raised an eyebrow.

  “Hello, are you okay?” Audrey immediately asked her, and she could suddenly hear Evie chuckling under her breath somewhere nearby the phone. Mal groaned in exasperation.

  “I could be better,” Mal replied.

  “Evie’s torturing me, but I guess I’ll live if a miracle comes flying in the window and knocks her out,” Mal continued with a bit of venom in her voice, and Audrey smiled absently as she looked down at the floor.

  “Sounds… interesting.”

  “Yes, it certainly is. HEY! Watch where you’re poking that thing!” Mal cried out defensively and Mal could almost picture that defensive cut of Mal’s eyes that was so characteristic of the faerie.

  “Seriously? M, I haven’t even touched you yet. You big baby, quit getting so dramatic every time we call people while I’m working on you,” Evie giggled, and Audrey snorted quietly.

  “You think you got it bad? You ain’t the one that’s sitting here waiting for the verdigris to get plastered on,” Uma’s voice suddenly sounded off. Audrey couldn’t help but find her curiosity piqued by Uma’s comment.

  “What do you mean ‘verdigris?’” Audrey questioned.

  “Like I mean I’m about to turn green,” Uma explained. Audrey furrowed her brow but before she could speak, Evie interrupted quickly.

  “Audrey, I have a costume for you, so come to my- well, Mal’s place that I happen to have a home away from home at- as soon as you can,” Evie instructed Audrey. The pink princess sighed quietly, assuming that was probably why Evie had called Jay and Carlos. Oh, well. She guessed she should at least give Evie’s outfit idea a chance before insisting that she stick with her princess costume.

  “I’ll come over later. What time is it now?” Audrey questioned.

  “It’s about noon,” Uma answered, and Audrey nodded before glancing at the boxes, accidentally reminding herself of why she called in the first place.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you guys know of anyone that can come and help me put up these last-minute decorations? I’ve asked Celia to help me with the cupcakes and a few actual full-sized cakes, and Jay’s headed over to you guys,” Audrey explained. Uma cleared her throat and Audrey knew it was an attempt to keep from laughing.

  “What is so funny, Uma?” Audrey demanded.

  “Nothing. It’s just… do you know for sure whether Celia can cook or not?” Uma asked Audrey and Audrey frowned upon the realization that it was actually a pretty good inquiry to make.

  “She told me she did,” the pink princess replied, somewhat unsure of herself as she spoke.

  “Oh, I’m sure she told you. The question is if she’s full of it or not,” the pirate chuckled. Audrey suddenly felt a panic gripping her as she squeezed the phone a little tighter.

  “Thorn, it seems like you need to go check on our favorite mischief-maker. I’ll ask my dad if he’ll come help you.” It was almost as if Mal could sense the immediate apprehension pouring off of Audrey at that moment, and the green-eyed girl continued quickly.

  “All the other options I know of are about to be called and shortly thereafter made over by Evie. OW! Get the tweezers away from the eyebrows!” Mal nearly shouted and Evie snorted loudly in response.

  “Thank you, Mal. And I wish you luck with your makeover,” Audrey half-heartedly smiled before the two exchanged their goodbyes and she hung up. The pink princess quickly hurried off to the kitchen as soon as her phone was in the pocket of her skirt.

  She hoped that Celia hadn’t gotten into too much trouble.

[dancingkirby]

So I heard that y’all were asking for more Bopal fics

And I decided to write one!  This is a missing scene from Part 2 of the epilogue of my fic “Into Open Waters.”  Brief recap: Bolin and Opal are in a polyamorous relationship with Eska in which they’re all married to each other, Opal had just given birth from Eska’s PoV, and then Eska had to leave the room briefly because it brought up traumatic memories for her.  This is what happened while Eska was out of the room.

WARNING: Mild gore; i.e. normal postpartum stuff.

Bolin, Opal, and Suyin all looked up at the sound of the door closing, and glanced over to see that Eska’s spot on the bed to Opal’s left was now vacated.  Suyin’s nostrils flared.

“If she thinks that she can just up and leave without so much as saying anything…” she began.

“Mom.  She can,” Opal interjected.  “She was here for hours on end, with all the noise and talking, and she obviously needed to go cool down.”

“Should I go check on her?” Bolin asked.  “Make sure she’s okay?”

“I’d recommend giving it a while.  She needs her quiet time,” Opal answered.  Having settled the matter, the two of them turned their attention back to San, whose initial lung-filling wails had quieted down to grumbling as An the midwife loosely wrapped him in a towel.  

“He’s beautiful,” Bolin murmured.  He knew that he’d already said that, but there wasn’t anything wrong with saying it multiple times, right?  “And so are you.” 

 The front part of his wife’s hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, the back part was sticking out every which way, and her eyes had dark circles under them.  Bolin thought that it was possibly the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

At that moment, An cleared her throat and said, “Well, it’s time to cut the cord.  Dad, would you like to do the honors?”

Bolin thought at first that the midwife was talking about her own father, and he looked all over the room for a really, really old guy.  It was only when Suyin prompted him by saying his name that he realized: Oh yeah.  He was the dad.  Of course, he’d known that already since this wasn’t even his first kid, but Kinalik preferred to call him by his given name and he had a tendency to let her. Thus, someone actually addressing him as “Dad” was a bit jarring.

“Uh…sure,” he finally replied.  An put the clamps on and showed him where to cut, and he got through the whole thing on his very first try.  Everyone applauded politely.  Shortly thereafter, An pressed on Opal’s stomach with one hand while pulling on the severed cord with the other, and…

“Did her guts just fall out?” Bolin cried, painfully aware that his voice had gotten higher and higher until it was a nearly inaudible squeak by the end of the sentence.

“That’s the afterbirth, Bolin,” Suyin explained like this should be perfectly obvious to anyone. “It’s supposed to come out. In fact, it’s a very bad thing if it doesn’t.”

“Oh,” Bolin mumbled, looking down at his shoes.  

“Mom,” Opal warned again, her voice nearly a growl this time.  Even Suyin looked surprised, and was briefly at a loss for words.

“She’s right,” the older woman conceded when she found her voice again.  “I shouldn’t have used that tone with you.  I’m sorry.”

That was his Opal, all right: normally patient and gentle and introverted, yet terrifying when that patience ran out.  Bolin squeezed her hand in gratitude.  However, his heart plummeted again when Opal’s teeth started chattering despite the room being well-heated.

“Oh, honey, you’re getting chills.  Why didn’t you say that you were cold?” Suyin said quickly.  She did not have to tell Bolin what to do next; he had already grabbed a blanket from the stack near the bed.  Opal’s mother gave him a nod of thanks, and told him, “Be sure to wrap that nice and snugly…and around San, too.”

Meanwhile, An was examining that big, red, angry…thing… and confirmed that it had all come out in one piece.  Then she stepped into the smaller room off the main one that was strictly off-limits to non-employees of this birthing center, and returned bearing several small, pointy instruments.  Opal groaned in dismay.

“She doesn’t like needles,” Bolin explained as he and Suyin finished tucking the blanket corners in.

“I’m sorry.  She has a tear that needs repairing,” An said briskly.  And, to Opal, “You don’t have to worry.  It looks to be fairly uncomplicated as far as these things go, and should be able to be fixed in a few minutes.  And I will give you a shot that will numb the area.  You might not feel anything whatsoever if you’re focused enough on your baby.  Just be sure to hold still.”

Opal had to hold on tight to Bolin’s hand, and although she yelped a bit during the shot, the numbing medicine appeared to do the trick. Suyin had moved towards the back of the room to give An some space (was it wrong that he felt a little relieved?), so Bolin decided that he would help distract Opal in the way that he knew best: talking about the first things that came to his mind.

“I want to buy you something,” he said in a rush.  “Anything you want.  Even if it’s the most expensive necklace at the most expensive jewelry store in Republic City.  Or…or…that humongous toy stuffed armadillo bear that you thought looked cute while we were shopping for stuff for San’s room.  Or…”

He was cut off by Opal placing a finger against his mouth.

“You don’t have to buy me anything,” she said with a confused look on her face.  “Why would you think that?”

It was a good question.  Bolin had always had trouble putting his feelings into words, especially when they were all jumbled into a huge knot like this.  Thinking very hard, he started, “Well, you went through all that, and I feel bad that I have nothing to give you in return.  And I guess…”–he finally had his epiphany mid-sentence– “It doesn’t seem fair that I only did the one part at the beginning, and you had to do all the hard work.  And then you were in labor for I don’t know how long, and then you got hurt while doing it, and, and…I just love you so much.  Him too, of course.”

He kissed each in turn, before adding, “I think I’m starting to cry again,” as he once again rubbed at his damp eyes with his equally damp sleeve.

“You’re sweet,” Opal replied, looking a bit teary-eyed herself.  “But you don’t have to worry about me.  I decided to have your baby because I wanted to; I didn’t feel any kind of obligation.  And it’s true that the labor was more difficult than I was expecting, but I knew going in that it wasn’t all going to be a walk in the park.  Besides, I enjoyed being pregnant overall…and there were perks.”  At Bolin’s confused silence, Opal leaned over and clarified in a whisper, “The sex was great, with both you and Eska.”

“Oh,” was all Bolin could come up with in response.  Most other times, he would have preened over the praise, but his brain was fried from staying up all night.

“If you still really want to buy me something…I could always use more books.  Eska can help you find some if you want.  Just…don’t go overboard,” Opal said.

“Is ten going overboard?”

Opal gave a drowsy smile.  “Ten would be great.”  

She looked like she was on the verge of drifting off, needle and all, so Bolin simply held her in silence until An announced, “Done!  See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?  Now let’s get mom and baby all clean and bundled up, shall we?”

And so An measured, cleaned, and swaddled San, while Suyin helped Opal into her nightgown and bathrobe and redid the blanket.  Then, at long last, Bolin got to hold his son.  It was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at the same time.  Bolin had never held a newborn infant before, and although San was a sizable baby, he was still so fragile.

“Uh…question. How do I not drop him?” Bolin asked.

Suyin, not looking concerned in the slightest, replied, “Just keep supporting his head and bottom, and everything should be fine.”  

And it was.  But now what was he supposed to do? He thought about this, and after several seconds recalled from one of Opal’s classes that it was important to talk to babies so they could start building up their language skills for later.

“So…uh…hi.  I’m your dad,” he began; it was still weird to say it.  “And over there are your mom and grandma.  And you’re San, obviously.”

Opal giggled a bit. Bolin looked over, worried that he messed it up, but she assured him, “Keep going.  You’re going great.”

“Right.  So of course, there’s Eska too.  She’s going to be like a second mom to you, and to be honest she’s the only one of us who knows what she’s doing. And Ki’s back at the house.  She can’t wait to meet you; it’s pretty much been all she’s talked about for the past two months!  And there’s also Baatar Senior and Baatar Junior and Huan and Wing and Wei.   You’ll meet Mako and Grandma Yin and all the rest on my side of the family in a couple months when we get back to Republic City.”

San peered up at him somberly; he had completely quieted down by now.

“Oh, and you’ll get to see Korra and Asami too; they have this awesome pool, and Asami saved all her toys from when she was a kid.  And you’ll probably be going to Air Temple Island a lot.  And, in a couple years, you can come to the pro-bending arena and hear me commentating some games…”

He broke off because San was starting to fuss again.

“Already decided you don’t like pro-bending, huh?” Bolin mused.  He looked up and asked, “No, seriously, did I do something wrong?”

“I think it’s more likely that he’s ready to try to nurse,” An replied.  “If you would…”

“Hm?  Oh, yeah, here you are.”  Bolin handed San back to the midwife, who gave him back to Opal in turn. As they started the process of assisting San with latching on, Bolin began to feel like this was a special moment between only Opal and her baby, and didn’t want to intrude.

“Should I see how Eska’s doing?” he asked.  “Or did you want me to stay here longer?”

“Go on ahead,” Opal said, wincing slightly as San apparently found his target.  Bolin felt a little anxious, and his face must have showed it, since she added, “I’m fine.  It just takes a little getting used to.”

“Okay then.  I’ll be back soon.  Hopefully with Eska.”

Bolin hoped that he wouldn’t have to walk all around the building to retrieve her.  To his relief, as he cautiously opened the door a bit to look out, he saw that their wife was sitting only a few doors down the hallway.  She looked up at the noise of the hinges, and he was further happy to see no evidence that she had been in crying or otherwise in major distress.

“Hey,” he said to her, “What’s up?”

[traitor-boyfriend]

In that question post you said that you headcanon both Stan and Kyle to be gay but i thought that in the past you headcanoned Kyle to be bi?

oh terrific this actually gives me an opportunity to go on two wild tangents i’ve been thinking about nonstop for some time now

headcanons are great in terms of physical appearance and such but i don’t really abide by an itemized list of headcanons in terms of unchanging immutable traits b/c i think it takes away what makes characters interesting to work w in writing and how the context of different settings and backstory affects a character in who they become and how they behave; not every stan and not every kyle i write is exactly the same. i have a general feel for the core of their personality and their emotions but they’re always a little different in smaller subtle ways depending on their history and the given situation. so i’m not really a person who thinks of characters as being one way and one way only

moving on to what i actually have been dying to talk about: yeah! before i really had the above epiphany i tended to think of kyle as being bisexual. sexuality falls into kind of gray area w headcanons for me. for the most part it stays consistent when i think about a character in isolation but again changes w a lot of factors. ex. when i imagine stan on his own i always view him as a gay man -- but i’ve written stan as bisexual before, have thought about him in relationships w women before and the majority of fics i read also envision stan being bisexual if his sexuality is ever outright stated. but strictly within the circumstances of canon i think it makes a lot of contextual sense that he’s gay.

for the most part, stan being bisexual and kyle being gay toes the line as standard for their characters. and this is fine! there’s nothing wrong w that at all! it makes sense. but it made me wonder why exactly kyle is so often universally seen only as gay -- why the possibility of him being bisexual and being attracted to women seems so strange given that he’s had seemingly genuine interest in several different girls throughout the series. and i think the lack of content w kyle being bisexual is what makes it very interesting to me as it’s a bit of uncharted territory. but recently it’s actually been more important for me (maybe important isn’t exactly the right word? perhaps organic is what i’m looking for) that both stan and kyle are gay as i think a big draw of stan and kyle’s relationship beyond them being the epitome of friends to lovers is the similitude of their personalities and their experiences and i enjoy so much more the thought of them being able to bond over and share that particular aspect of their lives together. which isn’t to say there’s no overlap between being gay and being bisexual -- obviously, there is so much -- but they are still fundamentally different ways of experiencing the world and yourself within it.

i’ve also been moving away from thinking of kyle as bisexual b/c i’ve noticed a bit of a worrisome trend as it’s gained some popularity. i feel bisexual kyle has become less about kyle simply being romantically attracted to women and more a response to the longstanding issue of kyle being feminized by making him bisexual as to appear more masculine via the fact he's attracted to women. which i greatly dislike. and the inverse is that stan becomes more feminine which for lack of a better word feels problematic as it seems to insinuate that sense of femininity derives from the fact that he is exclusively attracted to men in this scenario and kyle is not. it’s part of a larger problem, i think, w people constantly trying to impose these gendered exaggerations onto stan and kyle so they may fall within masc/fem stereotypes. which of course is not to say this is wrong -- that being a feminine man, gay or bisexual, or being gender nonconforming is in anyway a bad thing -- but when it comes to stan and kyle this jumps out as being jarringly odd and dishonest to both of them.

tl;dr: i derive the most enjoyment by portraying stan and kyle both as gay men and none of this matters b/c they’re not real

[pookha]

Symphony of the Heart Chapter 3: Discordance

Harry is having troubles, both at home and at work. After he is offered becoming head of the DMLE, he has an epiphany and realizes that being an Auror no longer makes him happy, if it ever did. He sees a Healer and a therapist.    

Hermione's hands gripped his hair tightly and she shook as she came. She kept him pressed to her and he kept licking her clit as she moaned and writhed against his tongue and mouth.

When she'd finished, she pulled him up by the hair and he slid up her body to kiss her, pausing only to bite her nipples hard like she liked. He slid one hand between her legs and stroked a finger in and out of her as he finally reached her mouth with his. They kissed for a long time as he fucked her with his fingers and soon she was coming again.

"Fuck! I want you inside me!" She reached down and grabbed his dick, which flopped flaccidly in her grip.

She pulled her hand back, surprised for a second, then she pushed him off.

"Again?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"Yeah," he said. "But I can still please you in other ways."

She pulled his hand out of her and turned over so her back was to him. Her shoulders hunched.

He spooned up against her from behind,and she started to pull away, but then settled into his embrace.

"Is it me?" she asked in a small voice.

"No, you know it isn't. I love you and I do like making love with you." He stroked her with the arm that wasn't trapped under her and kissed the back of her neck. She shivered a bit.

"I--I'm worried." She sighed and he could hear she was on the edge of tears.

"It's happened more and more and I'm worried for us..." She turned over to face him.

"I'm worried for you. You're only thirty-two; you shouldn't be having physical troubles like this."

She gripped his chin in her hand and made him look her in the eyes.

"Promise it's not me?"

He leaned over and kissed her. She returned it and it grew passionate before he pulled back.

"I promise it's not you. I don't know what it is, but it's not you."

"Then please, go see a Healer and get checked out."

"I'll do it tomorrow; I'll take a half-day and go in the afternoon, okay?"

She nodded.

"Still horny?" he asked.

She nodded again.

He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and waved it over his limp dick.

"Priapus!"

He got hard as fast as a teenage boy seeing a tiny flash of cleavage.

"I don't like it when you use that charm; it can be dangerous if you do it wrong."

He turned her back around and ground his dick against her arse.

"But you do like the results."

She pushed back against him. He reached down and guided himself into her from behind. She sighed and shifted slightly so he could get a better angle. He fucked her from behind with long slow strokes while one hand roamed over her breasts. He leaned in and bit her on the neck below the ear and she gasped. A hard pinch of her nipples and suddenly she was moving her hips faster against him.

He pulled out and pushed her onto her stomach then had her lift her arse up. He got behind her on his knees and spread her legs a little farther apart, then he rubbed his dick against the outside of her lips. The head of his cock bumped her clit and she pushed back on him, trying to get him inside, but he teased her with the head for a long time, until she was moaning loudly.

She reached a hand back and started rubbing her clit and Harry pulled his cock back, then slid into her with a quick thrust.

"God!" they both said at the same time and laughed.

He pulled almost all the way out and then slid back in slowly. A big wet spot was already forming as she dripped down his cock, over his balls and down his leg. He pumped harder and she circled her clit faster and faster, then suddenly she was coming again. A few seconds later she was gushing and the warm liquid made her even more slippery.

"Harder!" she commanded and Harry fucked her faster.

"More!"

He fucked her as hard as he could. She pulled her hand away from her clit and grabbed the headboard with both hands.

He leaned over her and reached around her with one hand and pinched her nipple hard.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"I am! I am!" he shouted back and she barked a quick laugh between gasps.

Suddenly she pulled forward and shifted her body. He knew that meant she wanted to be on top. He laid down on the other side of the bed. His dick stood up against his stomach. She sat up and stroked it in her hands.

"So hard; that charm really works."

She lowered her head down onto him and took the whole length of him in her mouth. Harry smiled; the other side-effect of the charm was he could keep it up for a long, long time.

He watched as she slid up and down on him, enjoying the contrast of the rough touch of her tongue and the warm silkiness of her lips. She saw him watching, pulled her mouth off and licked the head, then she leaned farther over and sucked his balls one after the other before reaching over and nipping the inside of his thighs. He jumped when she did that and she laughed.

"I'm going to fuck you now," she said nonchalantly, which made Harry laugh.

"What?" he asked, in a game they'd played lots of times before.

"I said that I'm going to fuck you now," she said a bit louder and started to straddle him.

"Sorry, I couldn't hear you."

She slapped him lightly on the side of his hip and then slid onto and then down him. She ground her hips and it was his turn to moan.

She leaned over him and pressed her body against him and whispered in his ear.

"I'm going to fuck you."

She bit his ear hard and he jumped again, then she started rocking her hips on him. Usually she started slowly and sped up, but today she started fast and only got faster. She sat up more and raised up and almost off him before slamming back down. He grabbed her and helped her keep her balance. He could just reach his thumbs to her nipples and rubbed them while she moved.

Soon, even with the charm propping him up, he was gasping for breath also. When she saw he was close, she slowed down and ground more side-to-side also. She leaned back down again and bit his nipples hard, biting him as roughly as she often liked to be bitten.

"Do that again and I'm going to fill you up."

"Promise?" she gasped and then bit them again.

"Yes!" he moaned. He slid his hands down her to her ass and pulled her more onto him, then helped her rise up off him.

"Hmm, you didn't come."

"I'm close," he moaned.

"You broke your promise; going to have to punish you." She bit his nipple harder, leaving teeth marks on it this time and he thrust deeply into her.

He shook and moaned as he came and she lifted her eyes to watch him. When he was still, she slid off and lay next to him.

At St Mungo's the next day, he waited with his hands clenched tightly while the Healer scanned him with his wand.

He took his time and cast several Charms and incantations, most of which Harry knew, but some of which were beyond him.

He opened his mouth to ask what one of them was and the Healer hushed him.

"Shh, almost done."

A few seconds later the Healer tucked his wand away and made some notes on a parchment.

"You seem fine, Harry, but something must have you worried; you're not due for your next physical for three months." The Healer grabbed Harry's chart from the table and looked at something in it and put a tick mark next to it.

"I--I am worried about something," Harry said and his cheeks flamed.

"What is it?" the Healer asked.

"I'm having some trouble in the bedroom," Harry said evasively.

The Healer paused with his quill just above the chart and looked Harry in the eyes.

"What sort of trouble: pain? Premature ejaculation? Erectile dysfunction?" Harry lowered his eyes on the last question.

"All right, how often has it been happening?"

Harry looked up again.

"About one out of every three times we want to have sex, I just can't get it up. Even if she..." he searched for the word.

"Stimulates you?" the Healer asked.

Harry nodded.

"Have you noticed any other physical changes? Fatigue? Soreness? Anything?"

Harry shook his head.

"No."

"Tell you what, I'll do a more in depth examination and we'll take a look and make sure everything is okay downstairs."

Harry gulped and nodded.

The Healer stood.

"I'll be back; I just need to go get some stuff."

He left and Harry rose and paced the room. His hand paused over his chart and he brushed the cover, but didn't open it. He pulled a pamphlet on birth control from the wall and read it, then read it again before realizing that he wasn't really reading it. He sighed and closed his eyes.

When the Healer came back in the door, Harry jumped up and had his wand pointed at him. The Healer's eyes widened and he stepped back. Harry lowered his wand.

"Sorry, jumpy."

The Healer exhaled visibly, stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Quite all right given your past."

He dumped a load of stuff on the counter.

"Okay, off with your clothes, we're going to do a deeper probe." He held up a squat sort of wand that made Harry think of the Probity Probes at Gringotts but smaller. Harry disrobed and found out the probe went exactly where he had thought it would. The rest of the exam was much the same, ending with the Healer asking for a semen sample and leaving the room while Harry took care of it. He wryly noted that he had no trouble wanking on command in a semi-sterile hospital room.

A few days later he got a notice to come back to St Mungo's. The Healer was waiting for him in his office.

"Harry, come in; have a seat."

The seat opposite the Healer at the desk was hard and too upright. Harry sat in it anyway.

"I've had a good look at your tests and it looks like there's nothing physically to be concerned about."

"Erm, what's the problem then?" Harry asked.

The Healer tapped his head.

"Most likely it's what the Muggles call psychosomatic; do you know what that means?"

Harry nodded.

"It means it's caused by something in my head or exacerbated by it."

"I don't want you to think that it means you're crazy or it's not real. Psychosomatic illnesses are quite real."

Harry nodded again. If anyone knew that things in your head are real, it was him, he mused.

"I saw some of your stress numbers were high, which is normal, given your job, and also, they tend to go up when in a Healer's office, but it could be a contributing factor."

He met Harry's eyes.

"Have you ever considered counseling?"

"What, like a psychologist?"

The Healer smiled. "That's a Muggle term, but yes, essentially. I know you've talked to some before as an Auror, especially after a combat, yes?"

Harry nodded. Kingsley had made it mandatory to talk to someone every two years or after a major combat.

"They've always cleared you to go back to work quickly, I assume?"

"Yes, I've never had an issue."

"I would like you to see someone and talk. She's an expert in sexual dysfunction as it pertains to stress and external factors. May I be frank?"

Harry gulped and nodded.

"I would like you to see her; I've heard what your childhood was like, and what you went through at Hogwarts. I also know the story that was in the papers about what happened with Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood."

Harry opened his mouth and the Healer held up a hand.

"I don't know what was true or not; Miss Skeeter is pretty sensationalistic, but I think the gist of it must be true. Did you talk to anyone about any of that?"

"Just Hermione."

"Ah, I meant professionally."

Harry shook his head.

"Therapy like this is helpful. Really, I can't recommend Mrs Statler more; she's helped me personally and I've seen her results in a few other patients."

"I'll do it; but could you make the referral under my alias? If the press got any scent of this, they'd just hound me about it."

A few days later he walked through a non-descript door in a Muggle high-rise and entered a comfortably plush waiting area. The receptionist looked up when he entered and smiled.

"Mr Peters?" she asked.

He nodded, trusting in his disguise.

"Yes."

"Have a seat and Dr Statler will be with you in a moment." She tapped something on her desk with her wand and it glowed.

"I assume if I were a Muggle it would look like an intercom?" he asked curiously.

"We don't work with Muggles here, but occasionally one wanders in without a referral and then, yes, we look just like a Muggle office."

The door buzzed and opened.

"She'll see you now."

Harry stood, walked to the door, hesitated, then stepped through and closed it behind him. He took one step into the office and gasped when he saw Mrs Statler.

"Pansy Parkinson!" his wand leapt to his hand and he pointed it at her.

She sat up suddenly, dropped her wand and raised her hands over her head.

"That's my maiden name, and my old nickname. Do I know you?" Her hands didn't shake.

Harry lowered his wand.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

He put his wand away and she lowered her hands.

"So you do know me; and I obviously would know you if you weren't disguised. Healer Smith told me you were coming in an alias because of publicity fears."

Harry nodded.

"I'm not sure I can talk to you; we have a bit of a history." Harry sighed and sat down.

"Ah, I see, Harry." She smiled at him.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"Please. Harry; you know me; your age is listed as the same as mine; you're worried about publicity; the way you reacted; the tone of your voice; and the medical history Healer Smith included."

Harry stood and moved to the door.

"Harry, no matter what happened before, I'm here to help, really." She stood and moved around the desk.

"I've taken the geas of secrecy."

"How does it work for you, exactly?" he asked. He'd seen similar oaths before, but each was slightly different.

"Anything you tell me stays between us, I promise. I literally won't be able to tell anyone unless you're going to be a present danger to yourself or others."

Harry sat back down; it was a good geas.

"First, can you get rid of your disguise?"

Harry nodded and ran his wand over his face. She watched in fascination.

"So, Patricia Statler?" he asked as he sat down, his face slowly morphing back to normal.

"After everything, I couldn't stay anymore. My parents weren't Death Eaters, but they supported them, and I was afraid they'd do something stupid during the trials. I couldn't live with them anymore and went out on a Grand Tour.

"I wandered into a Muggle occult shop, and it was hilarious, but they had a book and as I read it, it resonated with me."

She laughed.

"It was some lame self-help claptrap, but it started me searching for something, anything that could have meaning. I started Healer training and after seeing too much blood, I found that wasn't what I needed, but the talking and mind-healing interested me. I dropped out of the program and went to a Muggle school. I have a Muggle degree; three actually."

She pointed at diplomas mounted on the wall.

"Your assistant called you Doctor. Are you a doctor?"

"Not a medical doctor, no; but I do have a PhD."

He nodded.

"In psychiatry?"

"Psychology, actually," she corrected. "I also have some Healer certifications for mind-healing, but if you broke your arm, I wouldn't be much help."

"Healer Smith said you specialize in, um..." he paused.

"Sexual issues."

"Yeah, those."

She sat back at her desk.

"Is that why you're here?"

He nodded.

"All right, do you want to trust me or would you like a referral to a different colleague?"

"If you truly promise this won't reach the press, then I think I'd rather talk to you."

"No issues talking to a woman about sex? It'll have to be frank."

He paused before answering.

"No, I can handle it; I want to fix things."

"Don't want to fix things; want to get better or improve. Keeping too much of an eye on fixing or making or things perfect can be an issue in its own right."

Harry nodded.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong."

Later that night as he was poring over a case at the kitchen table, Hermione came in from work.

She hung her coat up and kicked her shoes off. Harry went to meet her at the door with a kiss and hug.

"Long day?" he asked.

"Yeah, the educational reforms,  you know?"

Harry nodded; he did know. He'd been asked his opinion on some of them, and he had been surprised when Minerva said she thought he'd be a good Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He'd thought about teaching before, but not seriously until then, but he'd finally decided to stay on as an Auror.

Dobby popped out from the kitchen into the hallway, somehow knowing when they were finished kissing so he didn't interrupt them.

"Your dinner will be ready in a moment; Harry has already eaten." He waved a spatula at something in the kitchen and a scent of roasted garlic wafted in the hall.

"Thank you, Dobby," Hermione said as she walked into the living room and flopped on the couch.

"Is Percy still pushing for the status quo?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, the traditionalists seem to be getting their way right now, but I'm not going to give up. Hogwarts needs to be brought into this century, badly. Hell, I'd even settle for last century for some of it."

She propped her feet on the ottoman and wiggled her toes. Harry leaned over and rubbed her feet.

"How was your appointment?" she asked.

Harry laughed.

"You will not believe who my therapist is." He laughed again.

"Dr Statler? Is she a Muggle doctor?" Hermione asked, oohing a bit as Harry rubbed her arch.

"She is, but not a medical doctor. Also, she's Pansy Parkinson and Patricia is her real first name and Statler is her married name."

Hermione's mouth opened in an O, then closed. She started to say something, thought better of it, then started to say something again, when Dobby walked in with a tray of food.

"Miss will want water tonight, or something else?" he asked as he put the tray on the table.

"The white wine, please."

Dobby bowed and Hermione pulled her feet from Harry's grasp, sat up and hugged Dobby when he stood up from his bow.

"Thank you for all you do, Dobby; you are very appreciated here."

He bowed again and backed out of the room.

"Dobby is well-compensated, but your thanks are welcome." He wandered down the hall into the kitchen and they heard him getting Hermione a glass of wine.

She lifted the cloche over the plate and there was a beautiful seared chop, some garlic mash and haricots verts.

"I'm so glad that after we got married that you insisted we keep Dobby on." She smiled, remembering the conversation. She hadn't wanted a house-elf, but when Harry told her what he was paying Dobby, she'd changed her mind. Harry was paying him the same as a Muggle housekeeper would be paid. It was almost half of Harry's salary and she wondered how he could afford it, but then Harry showed her his royalties from his grandfather's hair potion and she knew they would never worry about money.

Dobby came back in with the wine and handed it to Hermione.

"Thank you, Dobby; you're dismissed for the night. I can do the washing up." Harry told him.

"Yes, sir...uh...Harry," he stammered, still trying to call him ‘Master or Sir' long after Harry had told him to just call him Harry.

Dobby Disapparated with a loud crack. Dobby had rented a flat in Godric's Hollow. The owner hadn't wanted to let to a house-elf, but Harry's co-signing had changed his mind.

Hermione ate while Harry talked.

"So, she's taken a pretty serious privacy geas, so we don't have to worry about bad publicity there. She really seems to have changed. Also, after I left from there, I checked up on her and her family. She hasn't had much to do with her parents in a long time."

Hermione put her fork down and Harry knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think how that would sound."

She'd reached out to her parents a few times over the two years they'd been married, but they'd never returned her calls, texts or messages. She'd written them letters, but they'd all been returned with her mother's handwriting on them.

She sighed, ran her hand over her face and massaged her temples.

"I know you didn't mean anything; but that's a fucking sore spot that just won't heal. Maybe I should see someone, too."

She sighed, picked up her fork and started eating again.

"She did make sure to tell me that nothing is instant and this is a process with improvement as a goal, and that looking for a fix or trying to make things perfect can be a problem, too."

"That seems...healthy, I guess," she said between bites. "I think I would get too focused on trying to get better and would be pushing too much at the start and probably have a setback."

"It might not be bad for you to talk to someone. I mean, besides me." Harry went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with the wine bottle and another glass. He poured himself a glass and offered a refill to Hermione, which she declined.

"I'll think about it."

One Year Later

"How was your day?" Hermione asked when Harry came home. It was almost nine, and it was his turn to come home late. It seemed like one or the other of them was always home late.

"Mixed. Ritter told me today he's going to retire in June and he thinks the Wizengamot will approve his recommendation of me as head of the DMLE."

She rose and gave him a long kiss.

"That's wonderful."

He sighed and sat down.

"I guess."

She sat next to him and hugged him tight.

"All right, what's the bad news?"

He leaned his head on her shoulder and just sat there for a moment. When he spoke it was softly.

"I'm not sure I want it anymore."

"Why not? It's what you've been working for, right?" She kissed the top of his head.

"It was, but after seeing the crime scene photos from the Conroy case, I don't know if I can still do this."

"Bad?" she asked.

"Some of the worst I've seen. I can't tell you much, but it was kids, and that always makes it worse." His voice wavered and she knew it had to be bad.

"I'm sorry, love."

"It made me think of what we'll do when we have children." He lifted his head and met her eyes.

"You still want children?"

"Of course." She kissed him gently.

"So do I, but I want to be there for them. I never had anyone there for me, and you know the Dursleys don't count." He sighed deeply again.

"I'm not asking you to give up your career, but I think I might want to give up mine. I--I think I might want to be a stay-at-home dad."

She pulled back slightly.

"What?"

"I mean, what would we do with the kids? Childcare all day while one or both of us comes home late? Leaving them with a nanny or Dobby? Although, I think Dobby would be great with children."

Hermione chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"He--he probably changed Draco's diaper." Now they were both laughing.

"I hadn't thought of that before," Harry said between laughs.

"Seriously, though, I want to be there for our children. I've been thinking about this for a long time, but I wanted to talk to you about it first."

"I'm surprised, because being an Auror and then head of the DMLE always seemed like what you wanted and I want to support you. If this is really what you want, then I'm okay with it, I think."

He sat back and let the couch swallow him up, muscles limp.

"There's something else I'm good at; teaching."

"Do you mean you want to take up the position McGonagall offered at Hogwarts?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"No, then I'd have to be there most of the time and I don't want to be away that much. I was thinking of starting a non-profit teaching how to ward homes. So many witches and wizards don't have proper wards on their houses. If just one of the kids' parents had good wards, then Conroy might not have been able to get to them."

He sat up again.

"I think I can do more good there then as an Auror. I've already put out feelers to Dean and Seamus, and I think they would be onboard."

"Can we sleep on it? This is a big decision."

"I don't have to give Ritter his answer until the end of the week, so we can sleep on it for a few nights."

He stood, stretched and started taking off his shirt.

"I'm going to go shower; want to join me?" He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed.

"Sorry, no." She picked up a parchment and waved it. "I want to finish this before bed."

He nodded and left to shower. When he came out, she was already in bed with the covers pulled up to her head.

"I thought you were going to finish that report." He sat on his side of the bed.

"I did, and I thought you might like it if we went to bed together for once." She pulled the covers down just a bit, and flashed a bit of lingerie. She didn't wear it much and it was usually just for Harry.

"Hmm, sleep or nookie?"

"Nookie!" she gulped in gales of laughter. "Who says ‘nookie'?"

Harry pretended to be offended.

"I mean, I do, obviously. If you're not going to take me seriously, I'm going to piss off." He tried to rise, but she sat up and yanked him down by his shoulders.

She was gone when he got up in the morning and he ate the breakfast Dobby had made him and went to work. The Conroy reports were on his desk and he opened them, saw a photograph and closed it again. He went to his door and said, "Bryce, tell Ritter I'm taking the rest of the day off for personal reasons. If he or Donalson needs the Conroy report, it'll be in my locked desk drawer."

Bryce blinked, surprised.

"Are you okay, sir?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Please message my wife and let her know I'm on my way to see her." He could use a Patronus, but didn't want to interrupt if she was in a meeting.

Bryce nodded and started to write a memo. As Harry walked down the hallway, he saw the paper airplane memo zoom past him toward Hermione's office. He stopped by Arthur's office on the way and chatted for a few minutes, just to give Hermione time to clear her schedule for him. He knew she would, and he'd only done this once before.

When he got to her office, her secretary waved him in.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important," Harry said as he closed the door and sat down.

"No, I was just finishing up with the new goblin ambassador."

Harry grunted. The goblin trade bill was complicated.

"What's up? Are you okay?" She came around her desk and sat on the edge of it.

Harry leaned forward and hugged her around the knees. His shoulders shook and she rubbed his hair and neck while he cried.

"I can't do it anymore." He sat up, wiped his eyes and she leaned down and kissed him.

"I can't look at the Conroy report anymore, I can't give more of myself to that. I need to do something for me."

He stood and put his hands on either side of her face gently.

"Is it too selfish to want that?"

"Of course not." She stood and hugged him.

"I wish you'd come to me earlier, though." She kissed him again.

He broke the kiss.

"I didn't really know until I saw the Conroy case again. Before that it was...vague misgiving?" He shrugged.

"When are you going to resign?"

"I don't want to leave Ritter in the lurch, but I have to go. I'm going to do it now, before I change my mind."

"Do you want me to announce it during the Ministry meeting today?"

He laughed.

"Believe me, by the time of the meeting, rumour will already have spread, so yeah, go ahead and make the official announcement then."

He hugged her close again and kissed her.

"I love you, Hermione."

She smiled. He didn't often flat-out just say it.

"I love you, too."

Harry left immediately and went straight to Ritter's office. When he left a few minutes later, Ritter was sitting at his deck with his head in his hands.

Harry arrived at Shell Cottage a few minutes later and made his way down the beach to a lone long stone. He ran his fingers over the carving he'd made so long ago.

Ronald Weasley Beloved friend

He'd wanted to put more, but Luna had said she thought that was good and said it all. He closed his eyes and could still see Ron's body with Bellatrix's knife sticking out of his chest and all the blood...all the blood. Ron's remains weren't here anymore, they'd been moved to the Weasley plot, next to Fred, but Harry felt like Ron was still here.

Harry opened his eyes and sat down.

"I haven't talked to you in a long time, Ron."

"I'm sure you know Hermione and I are married now. I didn't do it for so long because I worried what you would think, but I love her, I really do and I know you'd want her to be happy. We're working on happy."

He picked up a stone and threw it in the ocean.

"I quit being an Auror today, and that also made me think of you. I know you wanted to be an Auror, too, and it was both wonderful and terrible; mostly terrible. People are so fucking cruel, and having to clean it up after was fucking hard. When I could stop things it was good, but too much of it was just...aftermath."

"I miss you everyday." He roughly carved a bit of roundish stone into a rook with his wand and put it next to the headstone. When he turned around Fleur was walking down the beach toward him.

"Harry; I wondered who it was." She saw his grim face.

"Are you okay? How's Hermione?" She stepped up to him and took his hand.

"I'm fine; better than fine for the first time in a long, long time." He leaned in and kissed Fleur on both cheeks and she returned them.

"Can we go inside and have a cup of tea and talk?"

"Of course." She led the way and Harry followed.

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Dial 20 For Hermit Crabs: Chapter 1

Genre: Drama, Romance

Themes: Anxiety, Relationships, Finding Yourself

Summary: Maggie Caspen has an anxiety disorder. Before her big break (mental, that is), she was a top-tier college student on her way to becoming a marine biologist. Then that all went up in flames, and all she has left are her parents, her cat, and the hermit crabs on the beach. But no matter the amount of forums or the YouTubers that tell her how much they feel it, too, she still feels like a directionless freak. That is, until a chance phone call with a bizarre author might just give Maggie the purpose she needs.

Chapter 1: All The Small, Anxious Things 

Small things, even the smallest things on earth, can sometimes be just that. Miniscule, minute, meager. They shuffle along, overcast by the daunting workings of the world, ignored.

But sometimes small things can cast a long shadow. Sometimes they are not what they seem. Sometimes they are bigger on the inside. Small things can really end up being tremendous, gargantuan things, but some people don't realize that. Most people think the small things don't really matter. Not in the long run, at least. It was just one word. It was just one page. It was just one tiny, little hermit crab. What could matter so much about them?

But to some people, the small things can be the things that matter the most.

&&&

Everyone spends a lot of their lives fooling themselves, don't they? "Fucking this guy will definitely make me feel less empty inside" or "I can't be failing that class, I only miss it like once a week" or "the alcohol totally makes me forget all the things that hurt". Of course Maggie was not as self-righteous to think she was exempt. Her? During her stupid and short college saga, there was a decent amount of time early in which she fully believed that the "You can will yourself better" mantra was the pinnacle of truth. That it's impossible for everyone to not willfully tell themselves it will be okay and it will be. That people, at their core, cannot be weaker than they think.

Now Maggie realized she was the one bullshitting herself.

There was a lot of time and thought put into this realization, unfortunately. Maggie wished it had been a "Wham Bam" situation, but it was more of a slow burn, until the end. She had a lot of time to think when she went back home, and now she was here, in an empty Oregon bungalow. The transition between mountains of homework to nothing but a white ceiling to stare at wasn't that great.

All Maggie had to her name after the hospital was morbid contemplation, and after a long time she came to a short conclusion: yeah, college almost killed her. Life is complicated. And never forget that regardless of how deadly everything seems to be, nothingness is pretty deadly too.

She used to be the strong, upcoming Caspen scientist, with wonderful grades and a love of research, with bookish glasses and dreams of marine biology. So, what happened?

Maggie could nearly feel it pierce her heart. She knew what goddamned happened. It all began to fall apart when Maggie had a complete nervous breakdown her sophomore year. Well, before that. It began in high school, when she started to get more and more worried about school and her future. Panicked, really. Kind of consumed most every waking thought she had. But the final breakdown was the hellish cherry on top.

After a series of unfortunate events, she ended up getting a little too burned up by stress late into the fall semester and decided to burn down her dorm room right alongside her. After it ended with Maggie incoherent and blatantly guilty in the rare December snow, her mothers, the dean of the college, and some doctors decided she should take the spring semester off.

That's how she ended up spending three months in-between four hospital walls that only seemed to get egregiously larger each day. Maggie also got a diagnosis that felt like a large sticker reading "anxiety disorder" to attach to her forehead, as if it was her new identity.

After that came the long March month of her doting parents spoon-feeding Maggie her life. Her Mum, Lynn, especially loved showing her photo albums and smiling cautiously, as if hoping Maggie would have an epiphany and be suddenly cured, and as if she had amnesia and not a severely detrimental anxiety disorder. Maggie didn't feel much like the girl in the pictures any longer, but she eventually let them grow on her. It helped her Moms learn to smile again.

She stared around the dim-lit living room and could see the past few months fly by her. And somehow she ended up here, with a flower couch and kitchen made for much smaller humans. After all that hospitalization and panic, her mothers had lovingly convinced her to move out. On her own.

How could she live alone? She could barely remember life without flames dancing in front of her eyes.

Maggie knew the old her would deal with this by burying herself in another marine thesis, or getting drunk at parties with no one she knew, or having one-night stands that she planned to never see again. Anything to take the edge off. That is, until the edge stopped going away.

In her head her therapist's words echoed, about how she needed to try healthy practices to soothe her anxiety. But nothing really seemed to work yet. The closest was the beach, but it also made her ache for the studies and research that now gave her post-traumatic hives.

Yet, now here she was. Grandma was moving to her new place in Florida and Maggie was expected to be better off in her small condo. It was time to figure herself out, everyone nodded and admired. Like they understood this whole science experiment and instead of being a co-researcher, she was the subject.

It was only a short drive from her parents, was all paid off, and she'd get some autonomy back. Perfect, right?

Laying down in what used to be her grandma's big bedroom, Maggie grabbed onto her arms tight and felt another shake wrack through her body. The whole expanse felt too big, like it was ready to swallow her any minute. Yeah, she felt so fucking better. What it actually felt like was that nothing was going right in her life and this "great step forward" might actually be not so great. Sure she didn't feel like setting the whole place ablaze, but she didn't feel adult enough to own a house. She was just an anxious weirdo who does nothing but watches movies, drink milkshakes, and go to the beach.

And even going to the beach made her feel sick, because it was just a reminder of all her failures. Maybe it made her a child, but without her Moms around, encouraging her, she felt like all the weight of before was crashing back down on her.

But she still couldn't bear to tell them, or Dr. Baker, or anyone that's what she was really feeling. Instead, she just gave weird laughs and snarky jokes about how she hates living under their roof.

Well, she did, but she was regretting that now. Even if it made her a helpless stay-at-home shut-in, at least their roof felt safer.

Maggie moved in last week, but everything had been rocky. Her Moms stayed the first night to help unpack and organize and keep her company. But once her cat and her movie collection was settled, they let her be.

The only thing that made it better was the fact they didn't question her when she came over for dinner every night that week. Though, now it was Saturday night and she still felt lost in it all. Worse, it was Moms' date night so there was nowhere to run to.

Safe to say she sufficed on microwave pasta and distracting herself with a The Mummy marathon.

By 3 am, though, Maggie could barely sleep. She only saw fire and frustration burn behind her eyes. And what was worse was that when she opened them, everything she saw swept itself into her lungs and she felt like she could barely breathe.

She had been sedentary for a while now, wasting away in jobless anxiety, nowhere to go next. It wouldn't be long before the world began to erode her away.

&&&

[doxampage]

2018 CMYK MANIFESTO: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE

The following topics are over and done with in 2018:

SHRINKAGE! There is less print in the world. Deal with it. Darwin called it “Survival of the Fittest.” Your biz, and the communications you produce or create have to be optimized for effectiveness at all times, or you will become extinct.

SAVE A TREE? Psst… if you are in the industry and send me an email with a message encouraging me NOT to print it, you may need to review your job description. I certainly agree with printing responsibly to conserve all the resources involved, but PLEASE share facts, not myths. Two Sides North America (and their 13 global offices) have tons of #Paperfacts for you – including suggestions for those emails messages. Click. Share. Support the TRUTH about paper.

TRADE SHOW MANIA! Any industry event where people gather to learn about print, and from each other, is a worthy endeavor. Too many or not enough, too far away or always in the same place, new or old, larger or smaller… pick the ones that work for you and leave the drama to your mama. Support the orgs and companies behind the shows you like, and the suppliers who exhibit there. Industry shows and events invest in YOU, attendees. Invest some time back in them on the floor and in the sessions. Follow along on social and share info when you can’t attend. You may end up helping your connections in the process of making new ones.

INFLUENCERS! I’m early on this one, but “influencer” joins “guru” as something you don’t want to call yourself in your bios and social profiles. This is especially true if you have NO audience that you allegedly have influence over; possibly worse if you have a large audience of completely irrelevant people. Don’t forget social streams and followers are searchable. File this under reputation management. It matters.

THE MISSION FOR 2018: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE

Sure, you provide customer service, but what is the experience of working with you? Perhaps you are creating print materials. What is the experience of the recipient or consumer? Do you know the answers to those questions?

The mission for 2018 is not only knowing those answers, but defining, directing and executing the print experience.

Here are 5 ways to get started:

START FROM THE BEGINNING. It’s a new year. Reach out to your clients who need the most help and set up strategy meetings. Find out as much as you can about their mission for 2018. Set a follow-up meeting and bring everything you can produce within that customers’ normal budget range, that also aligns with their goals. Show them new applications and substrates. Provide estimated pricing for these items based on that customers’ normal quantity range. Take this model up your customer list. The experience of you as STRATEGIST vs. salesperson will have long-lasting effect. Who would you rather talk to?

FULL DISCLOSURE. Oddly enough, I am coming across more printers and suppliers who feel that sharing knowledge and capabilities on their websites is dangerous to their business. My feeling is this… if your competitors don’t already know everything about what you do, how you do it, what you charge, who you do it for and who is making it happen on your end, they aren’t your competition. The experience of your website should be comprehensive and as human as possible. Share it all! Get the clients you work for, and the people you work with, to tell your story through their experience with you, don’t just focus on the results. How you do business counts, too.

MANNERS MATTER. Without going on more than is needed, PLEASE ensure your workplace is not a hostile environment. Think twice about booth babes, and endeavors that could potentially make anyone uncomfortable, or assume the worst about your company culture. Every experience with your business, whether under your roof or out in the street, should be impeccable and respectful to all. Amen.

TOUCHY FEELY. This one gets some audio support. Both these performaces are around the same time, and yes they are from the 70’s but that isnt what matters… the experience is what matters.

That is ink on paper.  It’s nice, relaxing, minimal distractions. It does a great job communicating a message.

That is ink on paper PLUS. From the first electricfied power chord It draws you in. It captures your attention, actually it demands your attention! Even if you drifted off before the 10 minute jam ended, I will bet more of you listened longer to Mr. Nugent than Mr. Carmen.

Those moments count in marketing.

Is your print topping the experience charts? Are you incorporating new techniques and substrates into your materials? Do they shine and pop? Talk? Light up? Smell? Provide a bridge to a digital experience? Are they #SCODIFIED!?!?! If you want to get inducted into the print Hall of Fame you have to create a library of meaningful work, that rocks. After all, which song made you want to crank up the volume and flick your Bic.

HEY HEY, MY MY. So yeah, I had an epiphany listening to the radio recently. Conclusion: Print is Rock and Roll! It’s disruptive, always evolving, part of the history and culture of this world. It’s a tool for communication, education and social change. Print provides marketers a solid foundation to build upon, just like the hooks from the rock world provide a foundation for DJ’s and artists in other music genres to build upon. Even elevator muzak has roots in rock and roll.

The print you create, the print you produce, the print you sell, the print you receive – should ALL go to 11 and be lighter-worthy. Provide a front row concert “PRINTSPERIENCE” … Every. Single. Time.

I am looking forward to printsperiencing all I can in 2018. Now turn up the volume on Stranglehold and…  

ROCK ON LONG AND PROSPER!

PS… in case you missed the BIG news: WE HAVE LIFT OFF! Podcasts from The Printerverse has landed!

Deborah Corn is the Intergalactic Ambassador to The Printerverse at PrintMediaCentr, a Print Buyerologist, industry speaker and author, host of Podcasts from The Printerverse, cultivator of Print Production Professionals the #1 print group on LinkedIn, host of #PrintChat every Wednesday at 4PM ET on Twitter, and the founder of International Print Day. She is the recipient of several industry honors including the 2016 Girls Who Print Girlie Award, and sits on the board of the Advertising Production Club of NYC.

Deborah has 25+ years experience working in advertising as a Print Producer, and currently works behind the scenes with printers, suppliers and industry organizations helping them create meaningful relationships with customers and achieve success with their social media and content marketing endeavors.

Connect with Deborah: Twitter / Facebook / LinkedIn / Instagram / YouTube / Pinterest / Print Production Professionals Group / deborah@printmediacentr.com

Please subscribe to PMC’s News from The Printerverse for PRINTSPIRATION delivered to your inbox 1x a month.

The post 2018 CMYK MANIFESTO: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE appeared first on Print Media Centr.

2018 CMYK MANIFESTO: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE published first on http://ift.tt/2vVn0YZ