#I vaguely recall trying to draw one before and a similar result

[driftingballoons]

Ayo! Still making requests? If so... Banette and Honedge?

I could fix her (she just needs some love)

as for honedge…

[dmagedgoods]

Oooh I kind of want to ask all of these for all of your OCs 😳

For Sal: 🍑, 💧, 🌷

For Eneas: 🍒, 🍊, 🥝, 🔮

Aaaa, this took forever, I'm so sorry. And thank you so much for the great questions. 💕

Salvadore

🍑 Where is your OC’s favourite place to relax or calm down? Recount a story of their time spent in this place! What makes it so special to them? Answered here! 😊 But I forgot the second part of the question and use the opportunity to add it now, ha: Is there anywhere your OC hates to go to? Anywhere that stresses them out or have negative memories of? If we talk about in-game places? Salvadore isn’t good with insects and almost died at Leper’s Smile just by having to run through the first part of the caverns. In a wider sense? He is never as stressed or feels as tense as in his parent’s estate. Even more so during family meetings. The whole house, despite being quite beautiful, fills him with a feeling of threat and underlying anger caused by bitter, painful childhood memories and anything resulting from those. 💧 What is the earliest memory your OC can recall? Do they know what their first words were or remember where they took their first steps? Do they have any mementos of their childhood they’ve kept such as a stuffed toy or tiny baby clothes? Salvadore remembers a scene in the garden of the estate of his parents during a small party, he must have been 3 or 4 years old and sat on the ground near a table, trying to build a tower from wooden cubes. His brother, two years older than him, was running around, saw the tower, and destroyed it. There is the vague memory of how he tried to complain to his father who barely took notice of him. But he picked up his brother to greet some guests with him on his arm. It’s weird, the casual moments deciding to stay. He also remembers the pride in the eyes of his father whenever he looked at his brother. Those are the only moments he can recall them showing anything but cold and discontentment. Salvadore doesn't know what his first word has been. (It was Mama.) His first steps he did in his rooms of the family estate with one of the nannies. He rarely feels sentimental towards objects, definitely not towards baby clothes or stuffed toys, or other things reminding him of his childhood. – Except for some of his own drawings, books, and gifts he got from Eneas. Those he all kept. 🌷 In what ways would your OC alter their body if they could? How would they do it using mundane means (hair dye, surgery, make-up?). What is their ideal look for themself? There is nothing about his body Salvadore would alter. Quite the contrary. If it’s in his power, he will prevent his body from changing. (Aside from very small things maybe, should life lead in this direction or that, growing his hair, a tattoo, or something similar, but he needs a strong reason before he alters his body.) Salvadore is terribly conceited regarding his appearance too and he works hard to look as flawless as he does: intense physical training, an extensive body-care routine, expensive products …, it belongs to his expectations for himself to always look as immaculate as possible. ~~~ Eneas

🍒 What kind of things do they expect from their relationships? Does this differ between platonic relationships and romantic ones? Is your OC “demanding” or a door mat? What kinds of things do people expect from them in a relationship? Eneas doesn’t expect. If a person captivates him so much and causes feelings in him that are strong enough for him to break his codex, he wants to see where it leads and only follows intuition instead of a plan. Of course, the more it grows the more he yearns for it to last forever and is willing to shape the bond in the necessary ways he starts to long for too. It’s not an expectation, not a demand, but what he needs in it: loyalty, faithfulness, devotion, for his partner to move on his side even if they’re apart for a small piece of the way, attention, and unrestricted love. If not in a true relationship, Eneas doesn’t differ much between platonic and “romantic” forms of affection. He sees interesting people and plays his games, whatever they involve. Of course, there are rare cases where people get closer. But he doesn’t have firm expectations for his friends either and just enjoys what there is and where it develops. In a relationship with someone, this person will become his exception, what guides him, his meaning, and of intense importance to him. He is neither demanding nor overly submissive in his behavior, instead, he needs to be invited into the person’s realm and will invite them into his in return. People expected a lot from Eneas during his long life, they all had slightly (sometimes strongly) different ideas of who he is or should be, and in most cases, he directed those expectations in ways that were useful for him. 🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes? I answered this one here and, you won’t believe it, once more forgot to write about the second part. 😂 What is your OC’s most hated food? Stuff they can’t stand to eat or drink? Eneas lived on the streets, I don’t think anyone could find him food worse than some of the things he ate to survive. Furthermore, he’s curious and loves to discover new dishes and tastes, and even collects interesting recipes. He’s not too fond of oysters and other mussels (with exceptions) and food with slimy consistency in general, but he’s far from picky and has no strong aversions. 🥝 What does a bad mental health day look like for your OC? Walk us through it with them. What kind of things can help them out of this slump and what kinds of things comfort them when they start to feel like this? During bad mental health days, Eneas becomes wistful, sometimes slightly anxious should it be caused by an actual threat to his life, power, or loved ones. In most cases, though, it’s a heavy melancholy combined with agonizing thoughts. He will lose himself in his own bitterness for a while and muse heavily and intensely about life, the gods, and humankind. What helps him a little in those phases, is music – his own or listening –, or watching people in mundane, but peaceful and happy scenarios. If it’s a truly bad case caused by a reason, only an actual resolution will help and until he found a way to reach it, he will stay much more distant in his wanderings and observations. 🔮 Star gazing or cloud watching? Hand-holding or snuggles? Early mornings or late nights? Star gazing and a conversation about all the different worlds out there. Handholding and snuggles. There is a right time for each. Not too rarely even a time for both simultaneously. Late nights after an eventful or relaxed day full of impressions with the time to deepen them or contemplate or add some more.

[ferromagnetiic]

;From Miss Golden Week A sea king’s head approaches victoria punk, weirdly doesn’t seem to cause any harm than laying its chin over the ship as a little girl slides from its beak. A wanted poster in one hand and a brush in the other. “ You. You stole Mr three, didn’t you? Prepa—” “✨Uaaaaaahhhhhh!✨”

Eyes turn into sparkly stars, arms upwards in an excited motion even though she keep her frown. “Mecha! Mecha Arm! Uaaa—ha!” Bag is thrown on the floor, scattering things as she reaches for a pen and a notebook. “ Eeehhh! Nevermind! Keep him. Do you mind If draw your arm? It will take 2 seconds.” Marianne didn't really waited an answer as she started to sketch anyway.

          【 UNPROMPTED ASK. 】                     @waxgentleman 【 Miss Goldenweek. 】

          The blithe nature of the steadily approaching Sea King was an unusual sight; the majority of reptilian sea beasts tended to avoid the Victoria Punk entirely, sans the occasional few too young, reckless, and stupid to know they were pursuing an early death by bothering the pirate crew. Even from afar, Kid could tell this wasn't an ordinary one, though he hadn't quite anticipated that it had been trained to serve as a method of transportation.

Bringing in another weirdo, it seemed. She was damn lucky he hadn't shot her ride with a canon.

The young girl standing before him peers up at him from under the brim of her hat with her wide, dark eyes, her energy confidently composed. Not quite like Dive, then. A similar age and height to her, perhaps, but this one is significantly less rabid. She bears no proud display of shark-like canines, nor any nervous twitching which results from an untapped thirst to spontaneously commit acts of inexplicable, unprompted violence.

She was Galdino's girl. He should have figured it out sooner, but her identity was revealed regardless the moment she utters the man's name. Probably shouldn't toss her overboard, then; the wax artist would be in a perpetual state of horrified shrieking for days if his daughter arrived for a number of seconds, and was then immediately flung from the deck. Well, whatever. She was small, she wouldn't take up that much space. Kid could vaguely recall Candlwick mentioning something about the girl in question arriving some time in the immediate future, though in truth, he really hadn't been paying attention to what he'd said. Even if he had brought it up multiple times every single day for the past two weeks in a demonstration of both his sheer excitement as well as his paranoid anxiety for her wellbeing, Kid hadn't been listening to any of those times, either. The point was, she was here now.

Her immediate fawning over his prosthetic limb and subsequent desire to begin sketching it does not inspire a cocksure display of overt conceitedness in him; it would take more than complimenting his craftmanship as a mechanic to form a congenial bond with him. Connecting with him would not occur solely due to her admiring his arm; he knew it was cool already, irrespective of whether or not she told him outright or not. Rather, he is awkward, uncomfortable. Total strangers bluntly praising him often tended to raise his defenses rather than lower them, and entice a degree of suspicion from him. What was she even going to do with that drawing of his arm, anyway? Just keep it and look at it in her spare time? He hadn't even known this girl until around twenty seconds ago. Try again when he had decided if he actually liked her or not.

Kid begins to turn so his back is partially towards her, on the cusp of walking away. If she wanted to draw him, she better do it damn fast, because he wasn't about to linger and wait for her to finish. He had things to do.

     ❝ Stick with Candlewi— With yer Da. I ain't babysittin' ya, and I don't have time to mind another brat on my ship. ❞

She could stay. Considering his attitude towards most guests aboard the Victoria Punk, this might as well have been a grand gesture of hospitality from him, and she should take what she could get.

[some-dr-writings]

Hajime and Rantaro sing to comfort their S/O

Hajime Hinata:

·       You always overthought everything. No matter what you did or said, moments later you’d just think it over and over and over again. Often this cycle lead to the not so great result of you panicking turning a simple greeting to a person, into you worrying, thinking maybe you insulted the person. Your mind tended to take more pessimistic lines of thinking which certainly didn’t help.

·       It was a bad habit of yours to overthink everything, but it had it’s perks. Often when others were making plans you’d realize things they never thought of. It saved you and Hajime from being caught outside during the rain when on a date more times than either of you could count. It was an aspect of you Hajime was rather found of, though he didn’t like how it troubled you sometimes.

·       After years of dating Hajime knew the two best ways to help you were to either get you to think of something else, or talk out the various scenarios you came up with, you soon laughing at yourself with how extreme your imagination could go before letting go of the subject.

·       Thankfully these were both things he could still do long distance. Since he joined Hope’s Peak he had to move away and live in the dormitories on campus. After school he’d call and talk with you. You’d chat about whatever either of you wanted.

·       One day after school Chiaki noticed he was rather spacey and asked what was wrong. He simply said he missed his partner and wanted to chat with you, which… it was true, to an extent. He knew he couldn’t speak of it, of the experiment Hope’s Peak had offered to him, the most plain, unremarkable student at the school. An experiment that could turn him into a different person, the Ultimate Ultimate. He couldn’t tell you, but… this was a lot to take in. Even if he couldn’t tell you, he just wanted to hear you. Maybe he could give a vague scenario like his and ask for your over analysis of it. Or maybe just not think of it, just laugh about nothing and momentarily and go back to it with a clearer head later.

·       He sat on his bed, just staring at his phone. Taking a deep breath, he tapped the call button. He listened to that ringing drone on in his hear, holding the device to it. One ring, two rings, three rings, fo- click. “Ah, hey Hajime. Not gaming with Nanami today?” “No, I want to be with you right now. Though you sound a bit… on edge.” “Heh, heh. Yeah, one blunder after another.” He heard the rubbing of some fabric on your end, likely you flopping onto your bed, looking exhausted as you snuggle into the pillows as you so often did when your overthinking became overwhelming, where you were just stuck in your head and couldn’t escape.

·       Alright so talking through it all may be a bit too taxing for you right now, so distraction. But what to do? Send you a funny video? A meme? Maybe send you a song? Oh maybe… Maybe he could sing? That way he wouldn’t have to cut the call short, and who knows maybe he’d sing so horribly he could draw a laugh from you. Hajime didn’t have much going for him, but one thing he did have, was determination, and he was determined to help alleviate your stresses.

·       Admittedly this was rather embarrassing, but if it was for you, he’d do whatever it took.

·       He started off softly humming nothing in particular just, feeling his way though this new experience, he never sang or at least never sang much before this moment. Soon he opened his mouth allowing the words to some song on the radio that kept playing recently. It wasn’t perfect, he forgot the lyrics part way through and fumbled when switching to some other song with a similar sound. Though unsure what he was doing, he still tried, a stubbornness in himself he never could quite shake, even if it got him into trouble when he was little.

·       Suddenly he was cut off, a sneeze startling him to silence. “Sorry Hajime.” “Huh, no, no. Don’t be sorry.” You still sounded haggard. You thanked him and started talking about the latest volume of your favorite manga series you had read that day. He should have known. He should have known that someone like him couldn’t do much. Maybe, if he were the Super High School Level singer, he truly could have eased you.

·       If he were just better, more powerful in some way, he could help you. You knew how to deal with your buzzing thoughts, but he wanted to be able to do more.

·       And…

·       Maybe.

·       Just maybe he could.

·       If he were someone else.

·       …

·       At times, his stubbornness truly could be troublesome.

   Rantaro Amami:

·       Ah singing. A leisurely pass time Rantaro often did without notice. He whistled as he went about doing chores, hum as he went out for strolls, mumble lyrics of songs he knew should he hear them.

·       He loved music. If he hadn’t spent his time searching for his sisters, he may have dedicated himself to music and could have become the Super High School Level Musician or DJ or something similar. But his sisters meant more than anything else to him, so his own passions were set on the back burner indefinitely till he found each and every last one. Afterall, how could he even think of pursuing that passion without those who ignited that passion in the first place.

·       And you, his partner often found him partaking in this hobby. “How come you always hum so much?” “Hum? Well…” He paused for a moment, leaning against the railing, looking out to the open ocean, the salty sea air racing past flowing through his hair, tossing it about. “Heh, just like everything else, it goes back to my sisters. When they had nightmares, I’d lay next to them in bed and I’d sing. It was the only thing I could think of to sooth them.” He fell silent his gaze lingering on that crisp, clear blue before shifting back to you. “Hey, what’s wrong.” “Ah, I just… A thought just occurred to me. A random connection you might say.” You momentarily glanced away from him, your troubled expression shifting to something soft, something gentle. “Your sisters being missing. Would you call this a living nightmare?” “… I see what you’re getting at.” He slithered an arm around your waist and pulled you close, looking back to the ocean. “I guess I mostly sing and hum when my mind wanders, often to them.” “But it can’t work, right. You sang to your sisters, they didn’t sing to themselves so for you to be soothed, you need someone to sing to you.” A light blush dusted your cheeks as you nuzzled into him, humming slowly transitioning into soft singing.”

·       And that was how you started singing for him. It was always at times you knew his mind wandered to them, wondering how they were, if they were safe and happy. He always smiled when you sang. He’d be a little extra affectionate, wanting to show he really, truly appreciated you and what you were doing for him. You were so amazing, he had no idea what he’d do if he lost you too, so he always held your hand, no matter where the pair of you went.

·       You tried going searching with Rantaro as often as you could, but you had your own life and responsibilities to take care of so many times you had to make things work long distance. No matter what time it was for Rantaro, day or night, you’d call him as you slipped into bed, and you’d sing to him only stopping as you fell asleep. Even though you’d never hear it, Rantaro would whisper you wishes of well rest and sweet dreams before ending the call. He’d then hold the phone to his chest, goofily smiling, telling anyone near by how amazing you, his partner was. This gesture absolutely melted his heart each and every time he couldn’t keep his affection for you all bottled in, he had to tell someone!

·       Though he wished to find his sisters more than anything, coming back to you was always a treat, he could finally shower you in all the love and affection you deserved. But one time when he reunited with you- “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” “Sorry, just…” A deep sigh escaped you as you slightly went limp. “it’s been a real long day.” He hugged you, unable to continue looking into your dewy eyes.

·       The moment he could, he coaxed you to bed, having you rest your head in his lap and there you let out all the madness that had been swirling around you. He had to do something to at least alleviate your pain in the moment. He didn’t even think about it, it was simply instinctive. And so, he sung. He sung your favorite song hoping to sooth you.

·       Which it did?

·       He was confused hearing you trying to hold in a laugh. “What’s gotten you so giggly?” “N-no, no, ignore me. Keep singing.” And so he did, but once more stopped when you burst into laughter. “S-sorry, sorry!” “Y/N… I only ever told you I sang to sooth my sisters, right? Well, I never said I was any good at singing, and what’s more soothing than laughter?” So his serenade continued, belting out without holding back, making up silly lyrics when he couldn’t recall the real ones, his tone constantly wavering making you think he were tone deaf. Normally something like this would be grating on the ears but he put so much energy and passion into it, it couldn’t help but become endearing in some form.

·       Though he loved it, he was not good at singing, but he didn’t care. Good or bad, it helped you and his sisters, and that was all that mattered to him.

[one-boring-person]

Hey! I have another poly Lost Boys idea it’s kinda angsty but a good ending. I was listening to the slowed song “Dusk Till Dawn”, and thought what if the mate of the Lost Boys was taken by hunters for like a year and they weren’t able to find her. Then on a stormy night she shows up at the cave after having escaped the hunters. And the boys just break down from joy and relief. I understand if you don’t want to do this one though! Thank you for doing my other request!💜

No problem! I'll happily do this request, I find it really interesting💛💛💛(I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I'm not that great at emotion😅)

Agreed.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mention of death, blood imagery, implied injury

Masterlist

Winds howls through the echoing halls of the cave, whistling amongst the stalactites as it rushes past, creating a haunting ambience that seems to hang over the darkened areas like a black miasma, dampening the already depressive mood. Rain pelts the rocks outside, the waves crashing and roaring at the seaward entrances, adding an almost deliberate rhythm to the catawauling shriek of the wind, a deep chill diffusing into the air as the night wears on, the frequent growls of thunder and crashes of lightning helping to create some natural orchestra of noise. A damp odour perpetrates the usually stale air, giving it a fresher feel and smell, though this new scent will most likely cling to the inhabitants for days to come, the moisture easily soaking into leather coats and dark denim jeans, rendering the garments' warming-abilities useless. None of them notice this, however, as they slouch in their communal area, all of them oddly silent for once, each deep in their own thoughts, though they all share a similar objective, one they'd rather not talk about out loud anymore.

In his wheelchair, David idly flicks through a book, unable to concentrate on it as his mind recalls more depressive memories, the heart-wrenching pain in his body reinstating itself after a year of oppressing it, the vampire nearly biting through his lip to prevent himself from crying in front of the others, blue eyes narrowed slightly. Across from him, Dwayne leans against the wall, polishing an older part of his motorcycle, working the cloth rhythmically round as he grates off the grease and rust that has built up over time, dark eyes scrutinizing the bright silver under the blackish marks with an acuteness borne of experience and practice, trying his hardest to stay distracted. Over in the corner, Marko tends to his pigeons, fussing over them with a deep affection, feeding them and petting them as much as he can without smothering them, cooing silently to them as he does so, doe eyes not quite sharing the enthusiasm he is putting on, their depths flooded with partially concealed grief. A little way away from him is Paul, who is listening quietly to his walkman, staying mostly still for once in his life, hands crossed placidly over his chest as he lies back on the sofa, blue eyes staring aimlessly up at the ceiling, jaw set in a tense manner, a reaction he's always had to a hard topic.

The silence is broken by a particularly loud crash of thunder, the deafening sound snapping the four of them from their trances as they look up, each pair of eyes meeting with each other's as they do so. None of them say a word choosing instead to remain quiet, waiting for the others to acknowledge the subject eating at their conciousnesses. Eventually, it's Paul who manages to say something.

"I can't believe it's been a year." He murmurs out loud, drawing a hand down his face in habitual remorse, nails scratching lightly at his skin as he does so.

"Me neither." Marko agrees from across the room, setting the pigeons free again as he moves to sit on the edge of the fountain, his posture slouched and downcast.

"I can't believe she's gone." David mumbles quietly, feeling a little uneasy admitting his feelings to the room, but feeling it necessary in any case. His tone is hollow and empty for once, the snide undertones gone from it, leaving him sounding oddly vulnerable.

"I don't think any of us can." Dwayne points out, placing down the part in his hands and coming over to sit beside Marko, flicking his long, dark hair from his face. Paul pushes off his headphones and joins them, all four vampires watching each other in dull grief, listening to the sounds of the storm around them in silence for a few seconds.

Greif-stricken, they remain like this until Paul catches something on the wind, his head snapping towards it with a confused look in his eyes.

"What is it, Paul?" Marko questions, having noticed his friend's sudden discomfort, looking in the direction that Paul is gazing in.

"I could've sworn I just heard something...like a moan or something." The blonde informs them, listening out for it again until David goes to scold him.

"Paul, I'm not really sure now is the time to be playing tricks on us."

"I'm not! I swear I heard it!" Paul insists, straining his ears for the sound again, only just catching it as it carries past him on the wind, "There! Did you hear it?!"

Marko and David shake their heads, eyeing Paul oddly as they do so, slightly sceptical of his antics.

"I heard it." Dwayne speaks up suddenly, eyes wide.

"You did?" Marko exclaims in disbelief, prompting them all to listen closely again.

Under the howling of the wind and the ferocious tapping of the rain, once the thunder and lightning have faded for the moment, two sounds are audible: a pained moan, and trembling footsteps.

Instantly, the boys are out of their seats and racing to the entrance, ready to scare off this new intruder, unwilling to be crafty about it tonight, faces morphing as they go, eyes flashing yellow. David is first out of the cave, but he stops stock-still as his eyes fall on something a little way away, not quite believing what he's seeing, the others running into him with protests and cries of annoyance, only for these to peter out as they also find the object of their leader's attention.

There, lying face-down on the last step, clothes torn and wet, hair sticking to their head, is a body, the shoulders barely rising and falling as they breathe.

Unsure of what to do, the boys stand there, staring at the vaguely familiar figure until Dwayne decides to go over to them, going cautiously, expecting it to be a trap of sorts. When nothing happens, he kneels by the body and rolls it over, a sharp gasp escaping him as he sees the features, in disbelief over what he is seeing.

"You guys are not gonna believe this." The vampire says out loud, carefully moving to pick the body up as the others surge forwards, their shock voices loudly as they see who it is.

"Is that..?" Marko starts, allowing David to finish the sentence off for him.

"It is." He swiftly ushers Dwayne inside, allowing the brunette to lay his burden down on the sofa before the four of them crowd around her, eyeing the form of their presumed-dead mate.

Visibly discouloured, (Y/n) appears much thinner than before, her bone structure showing through her frail skin horribly frequently, her beautiful features gaunt and sallow, bedraggled hair matted and unkempt as it sticks to her now-prominent cheekbones, leaving her pallid lips uncovered and parted, a single trickle of crimson steaming down her icy cheek. Her clothes are ripped and torn in many places, showing areas of wounded and scarred skin, blood forming a thick crust around her side, cracking as she moves slightly, drawing a thin whine of pain from her. Slowly, her somehow clear eyes open up, having been woken from her sleep by the sharp jolt of agony, flicking back and forth as she tries to figure out where she is.

"P-paul? M-m-marko? D-Dwayne?" She manages out, her head turning slightly to look up at the platinum blonde, eyes locking, "D-david?"

"We're all here, kitten, don't worry. You're safe now." David is barely able to contain himself as he looks over the form of their mate, relief, happiness and joy flooding him, momentarily dampening the concern.

"G-good..." She forces out, coughing slightly, her body shivering in cold as she reaches up, grabbing for one of them like she used to, asking silently for one of them to hold her, despite their freezing body temperatures. Wordlessly, Paul slips in behind her, pulling her body into his with a smile, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the feeling of her against him again after so long.

Upon seeing this, the others exchange glances, all of them thinking the same thing.

"She's back...(Y/n)'s alive..." Marko muses, unable to keep himself still as tears start to track down his pale skin, eventually throwing himself forwards with a gasp of happiness, burying his head into (Y/n)'s chest, hands feeling at her body to make sure she's real.

Dwayne does nothing to hide the fact that he is beaming from ear to ear, cheeks wet from crying as he looks over the form of his mate, the brunette vampire turning his gaze up to pick with David's, resulting in an overload of emotions for the latter. Tears spill out over his cheeks, a wretched sob leaving him as he collapses to his knees, blue eyes fixing on (Y/n) as he reaches out one hand to grasp her's, taking off a glove so that he can feel her skin under his, a giddy shudder of relief erupting from him as he does so, unable to contain himself.

Ignoring the blood and rainwater, Dwayne lifts a hand to caress (Y/n)'s face, murmuring to himself quietly in disbelief, mixtures of English and his native tongue slipping into the exclamations, fingers brushing over the raised bone in her face.

"No one will ever take her again." The dark-haired vampire promises to the others, looking fiercely at them with conviction.

"Agreed." Marko responds, looking to the others.

"Agreed." Paul confirms, tightening his grip on the girl in his arms.

David takes a little while longer to respond, feeling that just saying so will do nothing.

"No one will ever take her again and live to tell the tale. I'm not gonna let them get close." He snarls, leaning in to press a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s scalp, "We're not gonna let them get close."

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get some Ada love? Like her and MC cuddling on the couch or maybe having a few drinks at Ada's bar after a long day? I don't even care which I just her to get appreciated

No matter how much Fiona insists that you are doing a wonderful job in the Ward, you can’t help but feel that you aren’t doing much. All of them are focused on what needs to be done and the best way to do it. In contrast to their methodical, efficient tactics, you tackled problems like a chaotic force of nature, barely giving it time to exist but certainly not solving it at all.

Not in Kellan’s opinion, anyway. To you, they looked as solved as they could get.

This discrepancy in opinions resulted in long, long discussions that left you more than a little frustrated. This night was no different. No sooner have you stepped out of the Ward that you make a beeline for Ada’s bar, grumbling to yourself. There’s no one to accompany you tonight, but you don’t mind one bit.

It’s a welcome opportunity to be alone with Ada.

Or, well, as alone as you can be in a bar full of people Ada must occasionally tend to. You’ll enjoy what you can get.

“Evening, everyone.” You say, masking your foul mood with a charming smile. Most of the patrons turn to greet you, but your attention is instantly drawn to the slender chestnut-haired bartender moving gracefully through the mass of bodies. She’s a true sight to behold, spinning this way and that while still maintaining a careful grip on the tray full of drinks she’s carrying.

Soon, the grin on your face is anything but forced. Ada has this ability to make anyone’s day better with just her presence and witty charm. The drinks she serves are merely a nice bonus.

She turns in your direction as soon as she hears your voice, beaming, her grin as brilliant and radiant as the very sun. She gestures towards the counter and then continues to deliver the drinks she still has.

You don’t wait for long – soon she’s slipping behind it, already reaching for the ingredients to make your usual drink.

“How are you holding up, Snowdrop?” She asks, voice like honey, thick and rich and so very sweet, so very warm. It chases the last vestiges of your fight with Kellan away, yet you can't help but notice the slight slump in her shoulders, her tired eyes, and the way her usual vibrant movements seem much more drained.

“Better than you, it seems. Long day?”

Ada throws the group in the back of the bar a weary look. “You could say that.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Just dally like you usually do. I could use the company.”

“Oh?” You lean forward. “Are you saying I can’t help you mix some drinks? You need to have some faith in me, Ada. I’m quite good with my hands.”

Ada pauses, eyes flicking upwards to meet yours, glinting with faint amusement.

“Are you, now? I’ll need a demonstration, Snowdrop.” Her grin turns even more playful when you produce a coin, making the movement linger if only to stretch the moment a little more. She tracks your hand with sharp attention, looking vaguely impressed when you deftly move it between your fingers. She laughs. “Well, I’m never questioning your skills again, that’s for sure.”

A loud shout rings from the back, and Ada’s beautiful, beautiful expression crumbles like a deck of cards, her lips thin with annoyance.

“If they are any louder, they will bring down the whole place.” She grumbles, and quickly finishes making the drinks. Her expressions softens when she catches your gaze again, apologetic. “Give me a minute-”

She freezes in shock when you shot out of your seat, hand already moving to the forgotten tray by your side.

“No, you stay here. I’ll help.”

“But you-”

“Won’t spill anything, I promise. My luck might be bad but my reflexes more than make up for it.”

“Snowdrop, I-”

“Watch me.”

While you aren’t nowhere near as graceful as she is, you have no trouble navigating the sea of limbs and hats in record time. You meet her gaze from across the room once you deliver the drinks, smug, and she merely shrugs, fond.

“Well.” She says once you get back at her side. It’s a short, sharp sound, like the tap of a boot across the dance floor, full of energy she didn’t have before. “Better get moving, then, Snowdrop. We have a long night ahead of us.”

…

Hours later, after the first rays of sunlight chase the last of the patrons away, Ada lets herself drop in one of the tables in front of her counter with a long sigh.

“You doing okay?” You ask, softly, putting the glass you were cleaning away.

Ada groans. “Been almost two days. If it weren’t for coffee, I’d… well, no, I’m probably a zombie right now.”

Zombie. You grimace, recalling the revelation the Ward had given you not too long ago. Vampires, demons, mystics, ghosts…

What if zombies-

You quickly shove that thought out of your mind, disturbed by its very existence. Your mind quickly latches onto a more interesting subject, namely the way Ada’s hair, now out of its bun, gleams beautifully if the light hits it just right. It’s a river of coppery gold falling down her shoulders, brushing her back with light, dizzying touches, drawing your attention to the tattoos she has there and oh, she’s too gorgeous and you are too sleep-deprived to function properly.

The glass you were distractedly trying to put in place clicks abruptly with another, and Ada snaps her head in your direction, startled by the sound.

Her eyes quickly find yours.

Your mind scrambles for a smooth recover, but Ada is already smirking before you can even think.

“Careful with the glass, Snowdrop. Wouldn’t want an excuse to punish you, after-” She tries to go for a suave remark and fails miserably, cut off by a yawn. You can’t help but chuckle at her mortified expression, cheeks tinted pink.

“I might come here and break a glass later.”

“Maybe I’ll regain my ability to flirt by then.” She mumbles, finally, getting to her feet with unsteady movements. Then she pauses and throws you another look, suddenly contemplative. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What? Are you considering hiring me?”

“Nothing of the sort, Snowdrop. You already have a job, remember?”

The detail had been thoroughly forgotten after seeing how tired Ada was yesterday, overwhelmed by the intense desire to help. It’s not like you can be blamed, though, you’ve only been in the job for less than a week and it already looks like Kellan wants to fire you, anyway, never mind the fact that you are a witch.

But you did, technically, have a job. Joy.

The reminder makes you aware of how exhausted you are. You rub your temple, frustrated.

“Right. That. Honestly, I don’t think it’ll work out.”

Ada snorts. “Yeah, I was intrigued when Sascha mentioned you were going to join the Ward. Never thought I’d see a thief there.”

“So… does than mean I can work here when I inevitably get fired?”

“I wouldn’t complain.” She yawns again, and smiles tiredly. “Anyway, the Ward is a tough job, plus you had to pull an all-nighter because of me. And we are quite far away from Donna’s place, so… you could…” She trails off, suddenly bashful, looking at the side. It’s a strange look on her, because she is usually so effortlessly confident, but it doesn’t stop the rush of warmth affection that courses through you at the sight. “You can sleep here, if you’d like.”

Your heart leaps to your throat, insistent, thumbing so loudly you fear she can hear it.

“I’d love to.”

Ada is beaming before you can even finish, hand already slipping between yours, leading you away from the counter and upstairs, to her small apartment. It’s remarkably cozy, away from the loudness of the world.

“How many hours do you have?” Ada asks, curiously.

“Probably three before Fiona or Cecilia turn the whole town on its head to find me.”

And either of them would find you straight away. The joys of the Otherworld knew no bounds, that’s for sure.

“They will be the best three hours of your life, I promise.” She laughs when you smirk at her, swatting your arm. “To rest, of course. Really, I can’t see you in the Ward with that mind of yours.”

“And Sascha?”

“Sascha is. Well. Sascha.” She pauses. “How are either of you in the Ward, again?”

“How is anyone but Cecilia, you mean.”

“They have their responsible moments.” A shrug, and then she’s pulling you straight into the bed. You fall in a tangle of limbs neither of you wants to break. Ada’s voice turns softer, full of wonder. “And then there’s you. Pure, untamable chaos. And you chose to waste your night away working with me instead of resting.”

“Being with you it’s fun.”

Her eyes are falling shut. She blinks sleepily. “Say, Snowdrop? I don’t want to pretend there’s nothing between us.”

All week has been nothing but teasing and flirting, sparking interest, igniting it with a touch, then watch it flicker while both of you tried to see what the other would do, how you should respond…

And here’s Ada, half-asleep, throwing it all out of the window with one direct sentence. You laugh. It’s a very Ada thing to do.

“I don’t want to, either.”

“Wonderful.” She murmurs, and itches closer, humming softly when you hug her and pull her close. “Will I see you tonight?”

“Every night, unless the Ward sends me to the desert or something similar.”

“Right, the Ward. Sure, okay… I can work with that…”

She’s out in seconds, there in your arms, breathing softly. You smile, happier than you’ve been in ages. You can’t wait to see how everything will turn out.

[rigelmejo]

Observations when I study multiple languages at the same time:

Hello so good morning all. 早上好大家，我就着急啊哈哈....

I awoke today and my brain SPUN because I can read some Chinese, but I forgot how to say I woke up and got out of bed in chinese. I also just?? I suppose my brain worried and was like? “Do you even remember how to read french? do you even know any Chinese? Or is the new Japanese just overwriting old stuff?!”

I rationally know japanese probably won’t overwrite the rest because like - the first 5 months I studied chinese it just blocked out my French active recall unless I purposely used French a bit. But I didn’t lose any French as far as reading ability, and I got my French active recall back once I used French for a few hours/days. So it would be quite normal if my Japanese is recalled easier than my chinese for a few months. But my brain is like “we worked So hard to get to read what we Can read and say what we Can say we will be SAD if we lose it!!”

反正早上好我床上来了。我已经醒了。我不忘记很多的词。我着急为了没有的意思。我就找到一个翻译词典为了检查对的词。我猜不错。幸好！还我就可以阅读在法语，很好啊。今天我早阅读法语书一下，很容易。我没事。

My chinese may be a mess grammatically I know.

Anyway. I am. Thrilled I didn’t forget that many actual words. Universe help me if Japanese grammar starts fucking up my Chinese grammar tho. I mean I hope not because French never got fucked up; but to be fair to French I DID forget a ton of the conjugations when actually speaking/listening ToT I can barely recall French conjugations anymore unless I actively look at some textbooks or Le Français Par Le Method Nature to refresh myself. Likewise, I studied Japanese probably over 1.5 years ago now and since then, I’ve forgotten nearly all the verb conjugation endings I used to know with the exception of: ます、ません、じゃない、です／だ、じゃありません、ありまう、います、i know te form exists still though I completely forget what it’s for? Giving orders/suggestions? I forgot how adjectives conjugate but I remember they do? And I certainly forgot how words change when connected to their verb endings - I think there’s i and ru verbs? And they conjugate slightly different? And maybe nakatta is past tense negative, and katta is past tense positive (though I can’t remember if it’s katta or something else tta)?

Basically I forgot a HUGE portion of Japanese grammar. I also forgot Word order, I nearly forgot particles (I still have vague recognition of は、が、を、に、の、か). And I remember でも means but because it’s one of the few words I hear constantly and still catch. Also daijoubu (I may be spelling it wrong) for ok (I remember hearing it in YouTube and shows way more than any learning material I had, and I remember I’ve heard a similar word in thai dramas). 大丈夫／だいじょうぶ - using imiwa dictionary app I’m fairly sure that’s the word I’m remembering. Anyway I forgot... so much of my Japanese it’s like I just am relearning from almost scratch but with a vague impression it’s all familiar. I relearned these words/phrases lately which all sound extremely familiar now that I’ve heard them again: そうです、ここ、そこ、あそこ、駅／えき、子園／こえん, お電気／おでんき、今／いま、今日/きょう、あおい／青い、人/じん、話します／はなします、分かります/わかります、どこ、じゃまた.

Among the good things, I do remember most kana upon seeing them again, I think it’s just a few katakana i don’t remember unless I’m reading katakana then I recognize the word and remember the sound - like my name ミジョ/みじょ MeJo “mi-jo.” I always forget specifically ミ、シ、lol. I also forgot the way to extend vowels in katakana versus hiragana until I saw it again. And I still don’t quite remember why cake isカアク, but something else might be ice cream with a - like アーカイブ?

Anyway. Like I mentioned, this morning I read some French to assuage my fear and remind myself i can Actually still read French. I have not actually forgotten, even though my active recall is shot to hell unless I practice. And I did read, and aside from a few words I distinctly remember always confusing me and never looking up, I read fine. I’m fairly sure I read that novel easier than I’d ever read it before, even, catching more details this time than any time previously. So clearly my French reading skills are still fine, have been maintained, and if anything then over the years they’ve still marginally improved a bit.

I suppose my biggest concern with chinese is just... that I want to absolutely ensure my reading skill hits that vague “specific tipping point” that my French reading skill did. The point at which, once reached, your reading skill does not slip below “capable of grasping the overall gist of main ideas” and if you read every few days or weeks then also may continue improve over time. I remember in French, BEFORE I hit that “specific tipping point,” if I stopped reading for a while, then when I came back to reading things were harder to comprehend again and it took a bit of extra work to re-establish the foundations. But after a certain tipping point was reached, even if I didn’t read French for a few weeks or months, when I came back I had a basis of understanding that never fell below “at least able to follow gist of main idea” and often picked up any forgotten words within a few hours, then picked up new words to learn. And so I could continue “picking up where I left off” with learning instead of fighting with my reading skills sliding backwards. They no longer slid backwards, they only got “rusty” and then once polished up in a few hours, would resume improving. It’s the stage I want my chinese reading to reach, because once it reaches that point I will no longer worry I’ll forget the foundational skills - it’s decently doable to re-familiarize yourself with specialized words as needed (we even do it in English if say we read a psychology book for a class 4 years ago then pickup a new psychology class, etc). But it’s difficult to build the original foundation skills everything leans on. In Japanese, I never finished building it - I think I was finally starting to at 2.5 years in, then I gave up. As a result, I lost a significant portion of that foundation I had not finished building. At first I retained some of it, but from years of no review AND no continuing to finish building it, that foundation crumbled. So now I remember pieces of Japanese, but not enough to rely on. Whereas my French had enough time devoted to finishing the foundation, that now even if I take a few months or a year away from it, if I go back to speaking/reading/listening to French then the foundation is remembered quickly and I can start learning mostly where I left off and just jump to improving again (instead of needing months to relearn). While I can relearn/strengthen the basic things in French, I can also jump into books or listening or convos and know enough to just learn from doing, and still remember enough that I’m Capable of interacting with those things and comprehending enough To do them.

I think of it like drawing - idk when it happens with a skill like drawing, I drew since I was able to hold things so I don’t know. But basically whether you draw everyday, or stop for a few months or a year then return to drawing, within a few hours of drawing again all your previous skill comes back to you. If you forgot something you’d learned, usually a few minutes or hours re-learning is enough to drag your skills up to where they were before. So you can quickly return to your former skill level last time you drew, and quickly start improving further. So each time you draw, you’ve retained your skill from before (mostly) and improve your skill, then that skill improvement carries over to the next time you draw. It’s great. In some ways, my French skill is like that - I quickly can get to the comprehension level I was at last time I engaged with French, can improve from there, and then the next time I engage with French I can pick up from the level to which I’d improved to. I may forget some specifics I didn’t use much or learn as well - specialized words, or ways to express myself I rarely use (so rarely reinforce), but if I re-study them it takes a few hours to get those back (instead of the months it took to learn the first time). I am so grateful my French is past that “specific tipping point” because it makes French way easier to retain a useful level in, and easier to pick it back up when i have time and improve it as needed in the areas needed and retain the improvements I make for the most part. In Japanese, I never reached that “specific tipping point” of having established enough of a foundation. So I lost a lot of what I knew.

With Chinese, I really want to ensure I’ve reached past that “specific tipping point” of enough of a foundation, before I give it less dedicated time. I don’t want to lose the chinese I’ve learned, since it’s a significant amount. And... even more than that, my chinese speaking and listening ability is in many ways BETTER than my French, because I worked on it, and I don’t want to lose those abilities either to the degree I’ve developed them. In French, i know I have very low levels of speaking/listening in comparison to my reading and they lag behind as a result - even once they reached the “specific tipping point” a year later than reading in French, they still lag a ton behind my reading (think A1-2 French speaking/listening skills, versus French B1-B2 reading skills). Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to make it so my listening/speaking skills only lag behind my chinese reading skills a little bit. And I’d like all of those skills to reach the “specific tipping point” where I am able to retain the majority of those skill levels, before I work on chinese less frequently.

I know myself. With Japanese, at 2.5 years in I was Just starting to hit the beginning of making that foundation I could retain later - I was just starting to read and comprehend the gist of the main plots in manga, to watch YouTube or play games and grasp the bare gist of what the main ideas was. In French, those skills started at about 5 months in, and I don’t think they hit “specific tipping point” of me being able to rely on keeping those skills perpetually, until 1.5 years in. With Japanese, as I said, i hit the beginning of building them around 2.5 years in, and just never solidified them enough to hit the “specific tipping point” unfortunately. With Chinese, at least in reading (since I’m only discussing reading skill in all 3 languages), I probably hit the beginning of building these skills at month 10-11. That was when I could start reading manhua without a dictionary, novels without a dictionary (and grasp the main ideas gist at minimum), and watch shows and do the same. Which again, is higher than Japanese even was at its beginning-foundation, as I couldn’t even Read novels or listen to Japanese audio on its own and follow the main idea. So I suppose, to compare the absolute beginnings of each foundation being built: in French it was month 3 (when I could start brute forcing through news/Wikipedia and comprehend some gist of main ideas), Japanese year 2.3ish (when I started brute forcing through manga and comprehending very roughly some main ideas), month 6-8 in chinese (when I started brute forcing shows and novels and comprehended honestly more than I can believe I managed to in retrospect, considering how much easier those still-challenging tasks feel now). Anyway... Chinese has seemed to take 2x as much time to improve compared to my French. I do suspect chinese normally takes native English speakers roughly the FSI recommended 4x as much time. I suspect my French learning plan was just not very optimal for my learning style, so it wasn’t as efficient. Likewise... I suspect Japanese should normally take roughly 4x to 5x longer to improve then French. I suspect mine took SO long last time particularly, because I did not even have a good study plan for myself until year 2 of Japanese study.

So... based on all that. I imagine my chinese will be very firmly where i want it’s minimum skill to reliably maintain the foundation of what I know, to be at.. year 2-3. Year 2, if I keep improving as well as I’ve been doing (and assuming if my French had been more consistent it would’ve been at the “specific tipping point” by year 1). And year 3 if I don’t always study as much, or it simply takes longer (so twice the 1.5 years French took). Which honestly... 3 years is still intensely fast as I see it. And, if I’m improving the way I think I have been, I can’t even imagine how ill be in year 3. Anyway... based on all of that... I think it would be a bad idea to pick up Japanese heavily until my chinese is past at least year 2. With my 1 year+ of French, at that point I was also studying Japanese, and they seemed to work fine as I studied both - the only thing was it slowed down my French progress. So I do think waiting to do anything heavy with japanese, until my chinese is a good play I’m ok to let it simply maintain for the most part, is probably a safer plan.

—-

Realistically... no reason I can’t lightly re-study Japanese though and Just like rebuild the beginnings of the foundation I had though, it was probably N4 starting into N3 when I gave up. So I could probably re-learn some old stuff without taking too much time from chinese. And then if my chinese is year 2 by then, that sure would be convenient. Lol this is all... me contemplating. When we all know the truth is, I’m going to do whatever I want to do in the moment, and see what happens o3o

I am gonna tentatively say though, I think as long as I don’t abandon Chinese for any length of time until at least 2-3 years in, it should probably be maintained at least though at where it’s at/gradually improve. I didn’t lose any French during the times I kept using it, even when studying Japanese and russian, the “specific tipping point” didn’t really matter until I stopped using French for months at a time. I am sure I will notice if another language study is slowing down my chinese study though, in which case I’ll pause the other language if I have a Chinese goal that needs more time for attention.

At the moment, my Chinese goals are going about as expected. I wish I could carve some more time for them, but I’m giving them as much time as they were getting throughout the fall - so it’s not like they’re getting any less time than usual. (I am just inpatient, and wish I was the kind of person with the time and focus to give them 4-6 hours a day lol).

[kokiri-at-the-pack]

1020

October 20

I do not recall how I managed to return home. Steven’s last words never stopped ringing in my ears up to the point I reached the front door of my aunt’s house.

My worst fear just came true. Steven’s memories about me were gone. He could not remember the entire days from the point I met him up to my last meeting with him. It was like...how should I say...a large part of the film in his brain was clearly cut off.

And this was all because I drew a random guy whom I wished to be friends with.

I couldn’t dare to see Mr. Francis, who was hospitalized in the same building. He would display a similar behavior, which he did not deserve to get. I was certain he would no longer have any idea about the contract he made with the company but figure out why he was suddenly lying on the hospital bed instead.

Have I been too selfish? Should I have stopped the moment I wanted someone to stay by my side? Or the moment I wanted Steven, Mr. Francis and many more to be happy?

Could there have been another way? No...That could have been more difficult to achieve.

Because reality is harsh...for people like us.

If only...if only...those drawings were kept in a safer place...none of this would have happened…

I shook my head to get rid of a flood of negative thoughts pouring into my mind. I turned the knob and opened the door, pretending that nothing serious happened to me.

However, two people I did not expect to see at my aunt’s house so soon were standing in the living room: my parents. They turned to me with cold eyes, speaking with low tones that I should sit down for a while to have a bit of a talk. I did as they said quietly, but I was not able to control my anxiety. Their low voices have meant that there was trouble in our family, and it has always been a really, really serious matter.

I asked them what was wrong.

Mother made quick steps towards me and pulled out an envelope from her bag. I received it afterwards and opened it carefully, wondering what their intentions were.

...Sheets of paper. My drawings. All wet and crumpled from the storm.

I almost dropped them as soon as I saw their contents. Wait, if they were inside Mother’s bag, that means…

“Dear, please explain to us,” Father finally opened his mouth, “what are they for?”

October 23

Mother and Father explained to me how they found my drawings briefly. They were cleaning rooms in our house which turned into a mess after the great storm. When it was time to go to the storage room, they noticed a piece of paper was stuck out from one of the boxes in the corner. That is where they found all the work I have done for the past several days.

If it was another family with a different ability, they would not have raised any suspicion towards some random doodles. However, we are a family of Visualizers, whose drawings can come to life, no matter how long our effects last. It was one thing for them to draw strangers on numerous pages. When they compared them with recent news that were continuously featured in various media platforms, they were certain that our family ability was involved in them. There were too many links to be considered as a coincidence.

That is why I had to tell them the truth. Every single bit of it from its purpose to my true feelings. When I finished my explanation, my parents did not say anything, and relaxed their faces a little, but they still had discomfort in their emotions. In fact, they did not know how to respond to the result I made. Never have they seen the Visualizing ability work in such a wide, impactful field before, nor have they ever thought it was possible.

The silence continued until dinnertime. When I finished my supper, my parents beckoned me to come to the backyard. There, I saw that they gathered all the sheets of ruined drawings as well as notebooks with my previous doodles into one area, on top of logs exactly. Before I could ask what this was all about, Father questioned me if every one of them was old enough that my ability’s effect had worn off. I answered yes.

“Good,” he simply replied.

Then with no time for me to react, Father threw a lit match to the sheets in the blink of an eye. The fire instantly grew larger and devoured all the hard work and dedication I put in throughout months.

I barely remember what I screamed towards my parents. Maybe a curse...maybe a cry…

But despite my rage, my parents were unusually calm as steel. When I was about to get exhausted after the sudden explosion, Mother held my shoulders firmly and called my name several times to calm me down.

“You could have got yourself into trouble,” she said, “if we did not do this.”

I slowly looked up to see her sad, but determined face.

“We know it’s an awful thing, and we are so sorry...but we do not want to allow any more misfortune to come to our family,” added Father.

“But it’s not too late yet. Now that the evidence is destroyed, others won’t get suspicious of us. After all, our ability is not that obvious to be identified,” Mother replied.

I was utterly dumbfounded by their actions. A great amount of anxiety in their voices...Making a difficult choice of burning their daughter’s passion into ashes… How much worse can the consequence of my action grow?

“Dear...when does your winter break start?” Father asked all of a sudden.

“D-December…” I stuttered.

“That will be it. We can look for your new school in that period.”

“What?! Y-You want me to transfer to another place?”

“Our whole family has to start anew. Now, you must be aware of how crucial your mistake is.”

Mistake...What I did to make myself proud...make my ability proud...and make my family proud...They saw it as nothing but a mistake…

I understand their feelings… but why does my heart ache so much?

“This is the only choice we have. When you go there, do not mention any detail about your ability. Be vague in a way it is not understandable,”

I listened to my parents thoroughly, with each of their words pushing me deeper into despair.

“And remember,” Mother concluded, “live quietly.”

November 1

I have never noticed that weeks have already passed after I last noted my parents’ resolution for my ability’s severe effect. If ever someone is reading this entry, I sincerely apologize for the enormous skip in timeline.

The thing is...my family has been extremely busy since that fateful day. We have been looking for a new village to live in, together with the school my sister and I should transfer to. Of course, it was no easy task. We had to read every booklet and newspaper we could grab and visit that place before making a final decision. What’s more, from time to time, we had to pack up necessary stuff in advance and throw away any item which would be bothersome for transportation.

But the most critical reason was that due to a fear of leaving evidence related to the incident in my hometown, I was hesitant to write any more entries.

Until we have decided where to go at last.

My family agreed for one last time to pretend to be a family with no extraordinary ability. We are not worth any attention. While my parents attempt to look for any business they can start to earn a living, my sister and I will go to a small school with few students and graduate there. After all, it is a piece of cake to get a good score in such a quiet and unpopular school, so it also solves the problem of applying for a college in the future. It may look like my family was able to jump over a huge obstacle.

Except that my passion towards my ability remained intact.

Even though I knew it was my fault entirely for the tragedy to take place, I could never forget the significant change of emotions of the people I helped beforehand. How long have they possibly wanted those moments of recognition to happen? Can a person be certain that they will come to them one more time? No one knows exactly when one can fulfill his dream.

That’s right. Look at a brighter side. If my drawings can be ruined easily, that would also mean a method to preserve them can also be easy. As long as there is no single drop of water on a sheet, the effect will last forever, and that would be advantageous for me to support more unlucky people in need of help.

And as soon as we finish settling down in our new home, I can try to investigate how I can safely and efficiently activate my Visualization. Maybe I can start with how I can complete my work faster. I can also examine why the term for my family ability’s effect has been different depending on members and generations. I remember no one has figured it out, and I doubt my parents would do so since they already lost trust in our family ability.

I am going to be the one to fix the mistake...even if it means I would have to do it secretly.

I hope I succeed if my chance comes some day. Then my parents would understand me. My sister would trust me again. Our whole family would afterwards have happiness restored, just like the people who can be joyful with my illustrations.

So for now, I will focus on education and achievement of my goals. If time allows me to write again, I will record what I have seen, heard or kept in mind here.

…

To note down your experience is to remember what you felt at that very moment.

- K. D. Leighton -

[cruelfeline]

Actually, I think I’m gonna talk about the Hordak/Adora parallels. Yes. That is what I shall do before unpacking my new board game.

So, it’s pretty easy to draw the Hordak/Catra parallels, because their histories and descent into wanton destruction are quite similar. Comparing Hordak to Adora is a little less intuitive because... well, because one is a destructive warlord while one is a noble, sweet girl. But I can do it; behold!

One thing that strikes me regarding Hordak that differentiates him from Catra and places him more in the Adora category is where he places blame. If y’all recall, Catra is highly dedicated to placing blame for everything that has happened and is happening to her anywhere but on herself. Some of this is obviously warranted: her past trauma is clearly the work of Shadow Weaver, and a lot of the suffering she undergoes has a similar root. Some of it, however, reflects an avoidance of responsibility and does far more harm than good. Her behavior towards Scorpia is an example. So is her insistence that she exiled Entrapta because of the latter betraying the Horde rather than... well, than why she actually exiled her.

Juxtapose this with Adora, who blames all of her failures, all of her flaws, not on her upbringing or on hardships outside of her control, but on herself. Everything. Every difficulty, every misstep, every honest mistake: all of it is reflective of some internal weakness on her part. She needs to be taught that what Shadow Weaver did to her was damaging and wrong. She needs to be soothed and reassured that not everything needs to be on her shoulders. 

Hordak greatly resembles Adora in the self-blame aspect. Kind of to a disturbing degree, really. He blames himself for his apparent inadequacy, blames himself and his physical defects for his inability to conquer Etheria and get his portal working. The fact that there’s an actual key needed to make portals work on Etheria isn’t something he considers until Entrapta suggests it; before that, it’s his fault, his failure. He never places any blame on Horde Prime for his predicament (I’ve got a whole post on this), despite the fact that his brother literally sentenced him to die for a chronic illness he has no control over (and possibly for free will, but that’s beside the point right now). He has so much internalized self-loathing and blame that, when Catra tells him Entrapta betrayed him, he believes her, honestly thinking himself unworthy of companionship and the betrayal thus legitimate. 

The self-blame parallel is most poignant to me, but the other similarity is something @cruciferousjex​ noted on another post (at least I think this is what you were going for correct me if I’m wrong, yeah?): both Adora and Hordak put a lot of effort and energy into fulfilling a role that, in the end, results in them just being a weapon for someone else. Adora spends the majority of her early-season time training and sacrificing in order to become the best She-Ra she could be... but all that results in is being a tool for someone to use, someone who cares nothing for her. 

Hordak dedicates all of his efforts to desperately trying to prove himself to his brother, but even a positive outcome to their reunion would have simply resulted in him resuming his role as a living weapon for Horde Prime, someone who likewise doesn’t love him or care for him beyond his practical usefulness for the war effort. All of that work, and his most hoped for outcome is as disturbing as Adora’s: being someone else’s tool. Both he and Adora are in these no-win situations where their longed-for destinies result in their agency and freedom being taken away.

Anyways: while Hordak and Adora don’t share quite as much as Hordak and Catra, particularly because Adora is hardcore-good and possesses some vaguely healthy coping mechanisms, there remain some interesting parallels in their manner of dealing with failure. And in the sad, chilling realities behind ultimate results of their hard work.

[azemessence]

( inspired vaguely by this post by @astrifer-bound )

Evacien paces, fidgeting with the scissors in his hand. 6 months in space and on missions had left little time for hair care beyond the practical. Evacien is an attractive man, and can use it to his advantage if he needs to, but doesn't like to, and doesn't pride himself on his appearance.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, repeatedly hitting his palm with the closed scissors. Recent matters, a meeting with a diplomat, require him to look his best.

"We recall Joiner Ariadel," Vector waits for Evacien to sit, "we hold her memories of being a Maiden to Lady Thul. It will be alright, Agent. We're sure we can trim your hair without incident." Evacien stops in his tracks and sighs. He doesn't know what he's working himself up about. It's just a haircut.

He tries to relax as he sits before Vector, holding the scissors out over his shoulder for him. Evacien doesn't think Vector realizes just how much faith he's putting in him, to hand him a blade and turn his back to him. Vector has earned it, however. No matter how hard it is for Evacien to believe, Vector's hand on his shoulder as he trims his hair back into shape is... Soothing. Eases his anxiety. His normal haircut doesn't lend itself well to formality, but Vector keeps it, only shorter, and styles it for him. Brushed to the side with a french braid to keep his longer hair in the front clear of his face and tidy. It's... Nice. It looks nice. And Evacien is never more thankful that Vector has never once mentioned his appearance.

--

Nervousness. It spikes on the other side of Aruhk's chamber door. He clenches his eyes tighter and tries to meditate through it for a moment, but it's not helping.

"Enter, Jaesa." Aruhk has become familiar with how all of the crew feel around him, but Jaesa most of all. Being Force Sensitive, she feels her emotions much stronger in the Force, and so he feels them stronger, as well.

"My Lord?" Her voice is almost quiet next to the hiss of the door, but it feels so loud in Aruhk's mind. It's one of those days, one of the days where everything is simply too much.

"Come, sit," Aruhk keeps his eyes closed and legs crossed in his meditation, the only thing that helps on days like this. "Tell me what is on your mind." Her thoughts are screaming at him, and he tries to block them out so he can listen to her words.

"My Lord, in the last battle we were in, before returning to the ship, I noticed something."

"Are you here to critique my form, Jaesa?" Aruhk's lightsabers sit on either side of him, deactivated but still resonating with the energy he releases with each breath.

"No, My Lord, I simply noticed how your..." She tapers off, as if thinking of the words. Aruhk opens his eyes to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

"My...?"

"Well, your hair seemed to get in your way a lot. Almost as if you fought to keep it out of your vision as much as the soldiers who were trying to kill you." She pauses, and he blinks at her. It had never occured to him. He supposes he looked offended, because she immediately looks like she wishes she could take it back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know if I should say anything, I know so little about your culture and your species - Is it against tradition to cut it?" Aruhk relaxes his posture and smiles. For a second, it looks to Jaesa like he might almost laugh.

"No, it is a personal choice to keep my hair long. Though some of my Culture, some Purebloods, see it as a status symbol, I do not." Jaesa visually relaxes. Aruhk never felt much attachment to his Culture, though he grew up immersed in it. "Say, Jaesa, you keep your hair fairly long as well, have you tips on managing it in combat?"

"Me? Oh, no, I don't move nearly has quickly as you do in battle, I don't find it an issue. Though, I do have some hairbands if..." She almost looks embarrassed to think if it, as if suggesting a Jedi tradition to a Sith. "... If you ever thought of drawing your hair, or something similar."

"... Could you teach me? I'd... I'd be interested to learn."

--

"Boss!" Blizz jumps up and down to get Echo's attention. "Boss hair get long, Blizz cut it?" Echo blinks, reaching up to feel their hair. They suppose it had gotten long...

"Uh... Sure, Blizz."

"Yay! Blizz got this-" Out of seemingly nowhere, Blizz pulls out a rather large saw-like contraption. Echo's eye goes wide.

"Woah, careful buddy, you know how to use that...?" They back up a little, but Blizz nods.

"Of course, of course! Blizz used on Mako earlier! Great results!" Echo doesn't care what their hair looks like, as long as it's short and fits in their helmet without much issue. So, they shrug, and sit down on the floor.

"Good enough for Mako, good enough for me."

--

Aev'en leans over the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The dim light does nothing to obscure the face of a man exiled by his own people. He sighs, holding the knife he's used to cut his hair for as long as he can remember.

"Hey, Sith," Andronikos leans in the doorway, "Need a-" before he can finish, the door slides shut in his face, no doubt because Aev'en doesn't like to be seen in a state of undress. He sighs. "I was just gonna offer to help, but whatever!" He yells through the door.

"I'm fine." Aev'en barks back, "I can handle it myself."

Aev'en reaches over his shoulder to feel the exposed scars there, no doubt his local pirate got a good look at them. Nothing he can do about it now, the scars, or the pirate. It is what it is. One thing he can fix...

The knife is dull from use, but he cuts his hair with enough pulling. There. That's the face of a man who will never be controlled again.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Heated (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None Characters: Law, Shachi, Heart Pirates

Law's breath was heavy in his chest. His lungs laboured to draw in the oxygen and exhale the deoxygenised air his body no longer needed. Something cool rested on his forehead, and he mentally catalogued it as some sort of damp cloth. A fever, then, most likely the trail end of one, considering his return to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, his vision was assaulted by several faces looming over him wearing similar expressions of concern that morphed into relieved smiles as they registered his awakening.

"Captain!" his newest find exclaimed. Law noticed that he looked uneasy – that all the crewmembers crowding his personal space looked a little wary despite their smiles – and gave him a grin that he hoped was reassuring. As his senses fully returned to him, it wasn't difficult to pick up on the source of their nervous disposition; although out of his immediate line of sight, his haki picked up a dark aura in the room. Moving his head to the side, seeking the source, his eyes landed on Shachi, who stood a little way back, arms crossed.

The shades always made him harder to read than anyone else in the crew, hiding his eyes and whatever emotions they held. Part of Law wondered if he did it on purpose, refusing to let his eyes be healed so he had the convenient excuse of hiding what he felt when he wanted to. On this occasion, with the brim of his hat pulled low to throw extra shadows over the top of his face, his lips set into a thin line and his clothes, hair and cheek stained with blood, Law didn't need his haki to tell him Shachi was in a bad mood. The black aura only served to sow unease amongst the crew; even those without observation haki could tell that something wasn't right.

The normally cheerful, almost always smiling Shachi rarely fell into such a black mood, so it was unsurprising that even the older members weren't sure how to handle it. Law spared a moment to wonder where Penguin was, and if he would share in Shachi's mood or lighten it. On the rare occasions that the ginger's temper flared up significantly, his best friend was usually there to calm him. His absence was concerning.

"How are you feeling?" His eyes sought out the crewmember that had spoken, landing on the shorter man, and he offered another hopefully-reassuring grin.

"Fine," he told him, trying and failing to ignore the way the haki in the air soured further. "Weaker than usual, but it'll pass." The heavy air intensified again, and Shachi finally joined the circle surrounding his bed – or rather, the infirmary bed he was occupying, he noticed. Their nakama shuffled away slightly, giving Shachi plenty of space to thrust medicine into Law's mouth with little ceremony.

Law swallowed, making a face at the taste, but didn't complain. Whatever fever he'd had may have broken, but he was far from healthy.

"In that case," Shachi said, sounding as if he'd been the one forced to swallow the bitter medicine, "I'll go clean up." The blood must be from their battle – Law vaguely recalled the remains of a marine crashing into him – and he wondered how long his fever had raged for that Shachi had still not cleaned up.

A clink caught his attention in time for him to see one of those damned kairoseki cuffs snap shut around his wrist, and Law glared at him, only to receive an equal glower in return.

"Overusing your abilities landed you in here," Shachi told him bluntly, turning away and walking towards the door. "You don't get to use them again until you're back on your feet." Law watched the older man stalk out of the room, feeling the atmosphere lighten as soon as the door shut behind him, before turning to the members of his crew still present.

"Well?" he asked, managing to shift his wrist enough to lightly jangle the chain attached. Most of the crew were used to the occasional display of mutiny – he would be having words with Shachi when he got the chance – but the newer members had never seen anything of the sort before, so Law levelled them with an expectant look, hoping to coerce them into removing the insufferable restraint.

"Sorry, Captain," the newest whimpered, looking around at his nakama for support. "But… I think Shachi-san would gut me if I touched them." Law frowned. The refusal was hardly new, but he couldn't have Shachi establishing such terror amongst the newer recruits. Nakama should not have to fear each other. Unwilling to unnerve the new pirate further, Law changed the subject.

"Why are the engines running?" he asked, having registered the background rumble.

"We've set sail for the next island," Ikkaku told him, perching on the side of his bed and adjusting the cool cloth on his forehead. Law assumed his temperature was still higher than it should be, even if the main fever had broken.

"How long was I unconscious?" he asked, quickly doing the maths in his head and finding that it didn't work out, unless Shachi had been in the same bloodied clothes for almost a week.

"Approximately six hours," Clione told him, and Law frowned.

"The log pose wasn't due to set for another five days," he pointed out, watching them fidget. "Don't tell me you didn't wait."

"Shachi-san gave the order to set sail," the new recruit volunteered, and Law wished he had the energy to pinch the brow of his nose, because he felt a headache coming.

"And no-one reminded him about log poses?" he asked, wondering where Penguin and Bepo had been throughout all the madness. They looked at each other before shrugging.

"Penguin and Bepo were the ones that took control of the ship," Ikkaku told him and Law sighed. Well that answered that question, if rather unsatisfactorily. Penguin was supposed to be keeping Shachi in check when he came up with stupid ideas, not enabling him, and Bepo never stood a chance against the pair of them in a battle of wills.

"We wouldn't have had to set sail if someone hadn't been an idiot." Ah, the black cloud had returned to the room, still firmly accompanying Shachi, although the ginger was now free of bloodstains. His hair was still wet, dripping slowly onto the floor and Law wanted to forcibly dry it because Shachi knew better than that. More pressing was the issue of Shachi's attitude, though. He had long since crossed the line most captains would consider mutiny, and with that last comment was dancing dangerously close to Law's own definition.

"Sorry, but I want to speak to Shachi alone," he told his crewmates, who took one look at the ginger and all but scarpered from the room.

"What?" Shachi demanded the moment the door shut behind the last one. "You-"

"Do not speak to me like that," Law interrupted in a low growl. "I do not care how angry you are, there is only so much insubordination I can take and you are testing my patience."

If Shachi had been anyone else, anyone he hadn't known for the past eleven years, the resulting glower Law received would have seen him off the ship for good. As it was, Law chalked it up as one more strike in the tally he would be paying for later and took the sullen silence to mean Shachi was done antagonising him for the moment.

"Explain to me exactly why you decided we should set sail without setting the log pose," Law demanded, wishing he had the strength to sit up. He watched Shachi take a deep breath, and then another, clearly calming himself down before he said something they'd both regret. The fact that Penguin had apparently not argued implied that the reason had been genuine, but Law required details.

"It was too dangerous to remain on that island that long," Shachi eventually ground out, having the grace to at least look Law in the eyes – or as best he could tell, with the shades in the way. "If it were only hours, I might have risked it, but five days was too long."

"Why?" There was little that would scare Shachi enough to make a call like that at the crew's current strength. The Marines on the island had been difficult to handle only due to the numerical advantage they'd held, not because they were particularly strong. What else had revealed itself after Law had collapsed?

"One survivor," Shachi told him. "One witness. That's all it would have taken to bring more Marines to us, or even a rival pirate group." Law frowned, but Shachi cut him off before he could express his annoyance that they'd fled for such a cowardly reason. "Our captain just outright fainted in full view of anyone that might have been watching!" Shachi was getting heated again, but as long as he stayed on topic Law would allow it for the moment. "What sort of message does that send out, huh? That we're weakened, easy prey! Every single Marine unit, rival pirate crew and bounty hunter in the area would have been nuts not to jump on that opportunity! We can handle one or two enemies at once, but not everyone in this area of the Grand Line. This isn't North Blue anymore, Captain! They call this the Pirates' Graveyard for a reason!"

Law begrudgingly admitted that Shachi was right, but the ginger wasn't done with his rant.

"What happened to the subterfuge we used to be so good at?" he demanded. "What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves? Making a name for yourself is all well and good-" Law knew Shachi was actually proud of the fact his captain had a decent bounty, when he wasn't wound up and ranting "-but not when you push it too far! You put us all in danger with that stupid stunt of yours!"

Law winced at Shachi's final sentence. He had no doubt it was specifically crafted to hit him where it hurt – Law's crew were everything to him and Shachi knew that – but that didn't mean it was any less effective.

"Don't you dare do that again," Shachi growled, his voice fading back to its normal volume, before turning half away from Law, nudging his shades up with his arm as he swiped at his eyes. The fabric came away damp and Law froze, the missing piece to the puzzle finally sliding into place.

"Shachi…" he murmured.

"My shades slipped," the ginger mumbled, fussing with them. Law didn't buy it, but chose not to call him out on the lie, too stunned at the revelation that should have been obvious.

Shachi had been worried about him. The whole crew had been. They'd set sail, deliberately not following a log pose path, to protect him while he recovered. They'd encounter less ships on this route, and anyone that might have thought to pursue them if word did get out that he'd fainted wouldn't be able to follow them easily.

"Come here," he ordered, gesturing for Shachi to move closer to him, within arm reach. He was instantly obeyed, and Law forced one hand up, resting the fingertips lightly on his cheek. "Close your eyes and take off the shades." Again he was obeyed, and Law was struck by just how much Shachi trusted him as he carefully swiped away the beads of tears that had been forming in a rare show of affection. "You should be more careful," he scolded lightly, letting Shachi hold up the pretence that the tears were from light exposure and not overflowing emotions.

"I'll try," Shachi replied, a weak grin gracing his face as Law let his arm fall back to his side, permitting the ginger to replace his shades.

"Good," Law said. "And Shachi?"

"Hmm?" the older man hummed, looking at him questioningly. The dark aura had lessened significantly during their talk, to Law's relief.

"I'm sorry."

Shachi grinned properly, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Law tightly.

"Don't do it again," he scolded lightly. Law didn't bother replying to that, smiling into damp ginger hair.

"One last thing," he said after several minutes, as Shachi finally began to pull back. "I want you to apologise to the crew. You were angry at me, don't take it out on them." Shachi bit his lip and tugged the peak of his cap down, casting his face firmly in shadow again.

"I wasn't angry at you," he mumbled. "Not really." Law lifted an eyebrow, clearly recalling the way the ginger had ranted at him. "I was angry at myself. I didn't notice at all! I was just blindly sorting out the loot on the boat while you were getting weaker and weaker. The new guy had to point it out to me. We've been nakama for so long… but I couldn't even see that."

There were tears rolling down Shachi's cheeks again, but this time he made no move to wipe them away as he reached out and undid the cuffs with a quiet clink, startling Law. He'd expected them to stay on until he was fit enough to get out of bed at the very least.

"Don't use your fruit for a while, yeah?" Shachi said, heading for the door. "I'll be back soon. Got some nakama to apologise to."

Law watched him leave, for once the idea of using his abilities to end his misery faster unappealing to him. He'd used them too much already, and Shachi would blame himself for leaving him unsupervised without the cuffs if he exhausted himself again.

Law had had quite enough of Shachi blaming himself for one day.

[writingpaperghost]

Sometimes Tears Can Turn to Dreams (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: On We Go, Into a Place We Don’t Know

It’s been a while, but Hikaru still remembers Oliver and the other world, but he’s had his mind on other things. Now business returns to usual... Until things suddenly change and he and Shou find themselves somewhere Hikaru can recognize, to some extent.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906968/chapters/65946910

It was a usual day at the UPG, calm and kinda nice. As much as HIkaru was bored when nothing was happening, it also meant that everything was safe and fine. While the occasional monster appeared, it was mostly calm. Really, the most excitement they had was the... incident, briefly, that Orb dealt with. But regardless, that brought Hikaru to now, where he was kinda... bored.

If anyone else felt that way, they weren’t doing anything to make it seem such. Of course, Hikaru was trying his best not to let his boredom show himself, so that wasn’t too surprising. Or maybe he really was the only one who was bored. Generally, it didn’t matter much, he kept himself entertained when he didn’t have anything else to do. But he finished what work he had early today, and now he didn’t really know what to do.

It was times like these when his mind would wonder, oftentimes returning that strange day in Motorville. To Oliver, the polite and kind boy who - by some means that Hikaru didn’t really understand - had magic. Magic that could heal an indescribable pain, pain that the boy had called a broken heart. Oliver and the magical world he’d become a part of, those memories never really left Hikaru, even close to four years later.

Though he’d hear from Oliver occasionally, oftentimes just to talk (”How have you been?”, “Danny made it to the State track meet!”, “You’ve met another Ultraman? That’s cool!”, and other similar such topics), sometimes, it was hard for him to believe that Oliver’s magic and that other world truly existed. But he never stopped believing in it, because he’d seen enough from Ultras and such to know that those sort of things can’t be ruled out. He hadn’t heard from Oliver in a while, but he assumed Oliver was just busy, being a kid or running around the other world.

Then again... Oliver had said he was fourteen when they met... Hmm. So maybe Oliver wasn’t really a kid anymore, he’d be about eighteen now, wouldn’t he? Hikaru did recall Oliver mentioning that he was graduating high school last time he called. Still, Hikaru knew that Oliver always tried to spend time in the other world, to help out however he could. Hikaru could easily understand that, in a way he’d done the same when he traveled around the world.

Maybe he should call Oliver himself, soon. Just to talk, like they usually did. Usually, Oliver called, but it could be a nice change of pace for Hikaru to do so. He usually waited for Oliver to call, simply because he had no way of knowing if Oliver was even in their world or if he was in the other world. So it made more sense to let Oliver call first. But maybe this time Hikaru would try to call himself.

“Hikaru?” Blinking, Hikaru sees Sakuya looking at him, a small, but confused smile on her face, “You were staring off into space.”

He returns the smile, shaking his head, “I’m fine, I was just thinking.” He adjusts his sitting position and turns to be able to see her better, “Did you need something?”

She eyes him for a moment before smiling and shaking her head, “No, you were just so lost in thought I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” She pauses a moment before continuing, “What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about talking to a friend I made on my travels,” He responded, “It’s been a while since we talked.”

Sakuya nods, “You should!” She grinned, “I bet your friend would probably want to talk.”

He probably should make that call.

---

Hikaru never got around to calling Oliver, not that day, at least. He was going to do it today, a couple days later, but he certainly couldn’t do it right now. He and Shou were searching around a forest, there had been reports of some strange goings on. No one wanted to risk it being something like an Alien, especially if it could result in a monster attack.

As they searched the forest, they continued to find nothing strange at all. Everything was, as far as they could tell, the way it should be, seeming like not even a stone was out of place. Hikaru was beginning to think it was all a false alarm, that there was nothing in the forest to worry about.

But, since when had they ever had that good of luck? Just when Hikaru was about to suggest that they turn back, he noticed something. At first, he thought he was just imagining things. Sometimes the wind just oddly picked up and sometimes you just got odd feelings. He didn’t think that for long though, because he’d felt this before, even if it had been a few years. He could forget it, that day had a lot going on.

Still, he wasn’t positive about what he was feeling. Or more like he really didn’t want to be right. So he called to Shou, “Hey, uh, Shou?” Glancing over in the direction he thinks the strange feeling and wind might be coming from, he continues, “Do you... do you feel that?”

Shou looked over in the direction Hikaru was looking, contemplative. He furrows his brow before responding, “I’m not sure...” He looks to Hikaru, “We should investigate.”

With a nod, Hikaru joins Shou in moving closer. Before they get there, the wind dies down and the feeling.... not quite disappears, not entirely, but it lessens, far less noticeable. Still, the two continued to move, finally coming to a small clearing. In the clearing they could see the form of a person - or something close enough to a person, it was hard to tell from where they were - who wore a cloak, obscuring much of their appearance. The person had their back to them.

“Do you think that person has something to do with the odd reports?” Hikaru asked in a whisper. For some reason or other, this situation was giving him deja vu of increasing strength. He thought he knew why, but he really didn’t want that to be the case.

There was a moment of silence before Shou responded, “Possibly,” He said, “But there’s only one way to find out.”

He stands, prompting Hikaru to follow him. Shou calls to the person, “Hey, you!”

The person’s shoulders stiffened, though barely perceivable, then they shifted slightly. They turned so that they’re side was now facing the two of them, their face still mostly obscured by the hood of the cloak. Still, some of it was visible, mainly what seemed almost like a scaly sort of snout.

They seemed vaguely familiar, though since Hikaru could see only a little of the person, it was hard to say. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions (he didn’t want the conclusion he was so close to having turned out to be correct), but he couldn’t deny that what little of the person he could see seemed familiar. The whole situation seemed familiar to him, something that only seemed to fill him with increasingly more dread.

Finally, the person spoke, “You wish for my attention?” His tone was even, almost casual, as if two people weren’t confronting him in the middle of a forest. HIkaru stiffened slightly, though he tried to hide it. He recognized that voice. That recognition flipped a switch in his head, it was a confirmation of what he had feared. He’d hoped that his assumptions were wrong, but that wasn’t the case. “Well, now, you have it, don’t you?”

Hikaru quickly contemplated if he should say anything, if he should dare to grab Pictor’s attention. He didn’t seem to recognize HIkaru, if he even remembered him. Regardless, Shou didn’t seem to notice Hikaru hesitance, or if he did he simply chose to ignore it.

“Who are you?” Came Shou, eyeing Pictor, “What are you doing?”

There’s a moment of silence, Pictor seemingly eyeing them. Then, he turns to face them, his cloak moving and revealing more of him. Yes, that was definitely Pictor. His shoulders are shaking and a laugh becomes audible, “Ha! You think I owe you that?” The attitude he had seemed a bit different than the one he had when Hikaru had first encountered him, though maybe he was imagining it. “Just know, I am working towards my vision.”

His staff appeared in one of his hands and he began to draw a symbol in the air. Hikaru didn’t recall what the symbols for any of the spells he’d seen looked like, but he didn’t doubt that whatever Pictor was trying to cast, it wasn’t good. Hoping that he’d be quick enough, Hikaru wasted no time in doing the first thing that he thought of.

Tackle.

Pictor was knocked to the ground, his staff landing on the ground a foot or so away. With a grunt, he scrambled away from Hikaru, eyeing him. Hikaru quickly got back on his feet, standing. Pictor squinted at him, “You’re familiar,” He said, “Yes, we’ve met before.”

Then, quicker than Hikaru could react, Pictor grabbed his staff, stood, and hit Hikaru with it. Hikaru stumbled back into Shou who had moved closer. Pictor grumbled, “Gah, who cares!” He began to draw a symbol in the air, a different one this time, “I just need to get rid of you.”

Though he tried to tell Shou to stop him, as Hikaru was still too winded to do so again himself, Shou didn’t hear him. Not before the spell finished and a light grew around them. Hikaru had felt this feeling before, this spell. Though he couldn’t remember the symbol, the feeling was unique.

Gateway.

---

The next thing Hikaru and Shou knew, they were in some grassy fields, a few trees here and there. The next thing Hikaru noticed were the creatures, which ambled around, in no hurry. He’d seen ones like them before, though not the same, when he, Oliver, and Swaine, were traveling through the Tombstone Trail.

Which brought him to his next realization, though he wasn’t terribly surprised at that point. “I know where we are.”

Shou, still a bit shaken, looks over to him confused, “You know where we are?” He echoed, confused.

“Well not exactly,” Hikaru clarified, “Like not the specific place but... We’re in another world.”

Taking a moment, Shou responds, “Like with X and the Judas? Or Mulnau?”

With a shrug, Hikaru did his best to look around, “I guess,” Though they hadn’t caught the attention of the creatures around them yet, he didn’t doubt that they would soon. There was no guarantee that the creatures would leave them be. Were they strong enough to dissuade attacks? Hard to say, since he and Shou had limited abilities to fight when they weren't as Ginga and Victory. “We should... we should probably get out of this field.”

Glancing over at him, Shou frowns, “How come?” His eyes finally fall onto one of the creatures, who was looking at him from behind a tree. “Is it because of that small monster?”

Hikaru snaps his head up, eyes meeting with the creature. They stand there, staring at each other, Hikaru hoping that it would go away. The creature moves closer, making a small sound, sounding slightly aggressive. Then, it ran at the two of them, it’s tusks suddenly seeming very sharp.

“Yeah... I don’t think it’s very friendly.” As the creature got close to them, the two jumped out of the way. The creature ultimately ran past them, unable to adjust it’s direction. “We uh, we should probably just run from that.”

Shou nodded, and the two ran from the creature. Hikaru looked over his shoulder, seeing that the monster was charging at them again. Hikaru tried to move again, but his foot caught on a root as they were beginning to go down the hill.Normally, had they not been on a hill, Hikaru would probably have been able to recover from catching his foot. But, the hill provided a different result.

Hikaru tumbled down the hill, simply thankful that he seemed to be avoiding anything hard. When he finally tumbled to a stop, mostly because the hill had flattened, he had to take a moment to right himself. That and he was kinda dizzy from the tumble.

“Hikaru!” Shou was making his way down the hill, no longer being chased by the creature, “Are you okay?”

With a deep breath, Hikaru calls back, “Yeah, just a bit... dizzy.” He looks around, trying to orient himself. He notices something on a hill not too far from him. A city, surrounded by walls, most likely to keep the creatures out. “Hey, Shou! Look, a city!”

Now standing next to where Hikaru sat on the ground, Shou followed Hikaru’s finger. He squints then says, “It is,” He looks down at Hikaru, “We should go there.”

Nodding in response, Hikaru stands, “Yeah, hopefully we won’t draw too much attention.”

“What do you mean?” Shou frowned and the two began to walk towards the city. They were doing what they could to avoid catching the attention of any of the creatures.

Recalling when he had been brought to this world before, having the horrible luck to land in the middle of a city, HIkaru answered, “If I remember right, people in this world dress a bit differently than in ours.” A bit might be something of an understatement. “Our clothing is probably going to grab attention.”

Shou takes a moment to look at their clothing, their UPG uniforms, his brow furrowed in thought. The clothing that Victorians wore was different than what those above ground wore, but not so much so it drew attention. Unfortunately, even if Shou had been wearing that, he would probably have drawn attention too. There wasn’t much to do about that, they’d catch the attention of the citizens of the city no matter what.

Soon enough they walked into the city, well aware of all the attention they were garnering. They chose to ignore that, now that they were out of the hills, they had a safe place to try to discuss their next course of action. They had to find a way back to their world, at the very least.

Hikaru sighed, “So now we need to figure out what we do next.”

“We need to get back to our world,” Shou thinks for a moment, then seems to realize something. He gives Hikaru a look, “Wait, that person, he recognized you.”

Thinking back on it, Pictor had recognized him, maybe that was why he used Gateway instead of trying to do what he’d done before. While it was only a small surprise to Hikaru, Shou had every reason to be confused about it. “Before,” Hikaru began to explain, “When I first ended up in this world, he was the reason why.”

After mulling over his words for a few moments, Shou responds, “Well then, how did you get back to our world that time?”

“A boy sent me back,” Hikaru said, “He could probably get us back, actually.”

“Except he’d have to be here to do that.”

Looking around, Hikaru saw the various citizens in the city. There were normal humans, of course there were, but there were others. People who looked more like bipedal cats than anything else. He tried not to stare, not to make them think he was staring. “Oliver.... I know Oliver spends a lot of time in this world,” Even if he also knew that the time Oliver spent was decreasing as the boy grew older. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows of him in this world, so if we ask around, we’ll probably find him. Eventually.”

Shou lifts an eyebrow, giving Hikaru a curious look, “How can everyone in a world know of a boy?”

Chuckling slightly, Hikaru thinks about that. The most knowledge he had of that was... What? It was sort of just an impression he’d gotten, it seemed like, from what he’d seen and what he’d heard from Oliver. He might recall Oliver mentioning something about that before, but it hadn’t seemed to stuck with him. “I’m not... I’m not sure.” He said, “It just seems that way. And I guess he’s not a boy anymore.”

With a sigh, Shou responded, “Alright, let’s start asking around.”

---

It had been an average day for Oliver, he’d just finished running around doing some small bounties. He needed to restock on some supplies - he was running dreadfully low on Cappuccinos - so he made his way to the nearest town. Thus, he was in Ding Dong Dell, picking up supplies from the Couple’s shop. He was glad that their shop was still going strong, even five or so years later.

As he was paying the wife, she said something off hand, as she was counting the Guilders he’d given her, “You know, Oliver,” She placed the money in the cash register, “These two strange men were asking around about you.”

“Strange men?” He inquired, placing his supplies into his bag, “What do you mean?”

“They showed up earlier today,” She explained, “They dressed so oddly. And they’ve been asking if anyone has seen you.”

That was certainly strange but... Dressed oddly? Could it be someone from his world? But they’d have to be someone who knew him, or at least one of them would have to. And at least one of them would have to know that he came to this world. That certainly narrowed the list.

He had his suspicions as to who at least one of those people were, but the best way to find out would be to find them. “Do you know where they are now?”

She gives him something of a concerned look before answering, “I’m not entirely sure,” She said, “But the last person who mentioned them said they were over by the grave. They didn’t seem like they’d be moving anytime soon.”

Oliver gives her a smile, “Thanks!” He left, and soon was running down the streets of Ding Dong Dell, making his way to the grave. It would be a good place to have privacy, especially if you didn’t want to grab attention.

He was almost certain as to the identity of one of those oddly dressed people. Mostly because there was only one person from his world that knew about this world. So when he turned the corner into the garden the grave was situated in, he was not surprised at one of the faces he saw there.

“Mr. Hikaru!” He called, catching the attention of the taller of the two. He looked much like he did when they first met, though his clothing was much different. Since the man beside him wore the same, Oliver assumed it was the uniform on the group Mr. Hikaru had said he worked with.

Mr. Hikaru’s face lights up, a smile on his face, “Oliver!” He waves.

The man beside Hikaru tilts his head, “So this is the person you were talking about?” It feels like he’s examining Oliver so closely, Oliver almost thought that he might be looking through him.

Looking at his friend, Mr. Hikaru responds, “Right, Shou, this is Oliver. Oliver, this is Shou.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Shou,” Oliver greets, then turns to face Mr. Hikaru again, “I heard that you were looking for me. Did something happen? How did you end up here?”

The question seemed to cause him to remember something, as he looked to Mr. Shou and frowned. Then he looked back over to Oliver, “It was Pictor,” Oliver took in the few words, the tone making up for the brevity. Not that such a statement needed more words, the point was easy to convey.

“Pictor?” He echoed, “But there hasn’t been a sign of him since you first came here!”

“The person certainly recognized Hikaru,” Mr. Shou notes, glancing at Mr. Hikaru.

There’s a determined look on Mr. Hikaru’s face when he responds, “I saw him well enough to know. That was Pictor. It sounded like him, it looked like him, and he had magic.”

Truly, Oliver didn’t doubt Mr. Hikaru, but it was still unsettling. It had seemed like Pictor had just disappeared for years, but now, by chance, they knew he was still poking about. And he was in their world to boot, not this one. Though maybe that shouldn’t surprise Oliver, Pictor had been in their world when Mr. Hikaru and Oliver first encountered him. But the question still remained, what was he doing in their world? What was he trying to achieve? Should they look for him over in their world, or in this world? Both?

He frowned, “That’s not good,” He said, almost absentmindedly, “We really need to figure out what he’s trying to do.”

“Do we know if he’s dangerous?” Mr. Shou inquired, “Does he need to be stopped?”

“Maybe?” Oliver offered, “We don’t know much about what he’s doing, so it’s hard to say...”

As Oliver tried to grasp at what Pictor’s plans might be, Mr. Hikaru speaks up, “Did he want you wand, before?”

That was right, he’d try to grab Astra, not realizing that he’d misidentified it as Mornstar, “He was trying to get Mornstar, which I do have, though it’s not the wand I use. I use Astra, it’s twin. Still, they’re similar enough that he probably didn’t realize the difference.” But why did he need Mornstar? For a spell he was trying to cast? Was it simply he needed a stronger wand than the staff he already had? “It’s probably for a spell, some spells need stronger wands in order to be cast.”

The response prompted Mr. Hikaru to wonder aloud, “But what spell? What could he be trying to do?”

“Is there anyone who might have some idea?” Mr. Shou asked.

Oliver ran through his mental list of who was knowledgeable about magic. Obviously the ones who came to mind first were the Great Sages. Given how it went last time Pictor showed up, it would probably be best to go straight to Perdida and ask Khulan. Just hope that she would be able to have better luck than last time.

He nods his head, “Yeah, I think Khulan could probably help. At least, I hope she can.”

“That’s the person we went to last time, right?”

“Yep!” Oliver brought out his wand and looked to the other two, “If you’re ready, we can head to Perdida.”

Mr. Shou tilts his head, “Is it close?”

In response, Mr. Hikaru looked at him and smiled, “Nope! But Oliver has magic.”

“Travel shouldn’t feel too odd,” Oliver assured, “At least, no one has ever told me it does.”

And with that, Oliver cast Travel and they were off to Perdida.

[maiz-of-light]

All in the Cards: A Brief Introduction to the Tarot

Good evening, loves!

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post on paganism, and with Beltane fast-approaching and my spiritual senses heightened, I would like to break that hiatus. I’ve already written briefly about setting up an altar space and using crystals for everyday purposes; now, I’d like to address the spirits’ most effective method of communication with humanity: the Tarot.

I started using Tarot cards about a year ago, when my finances and living situation finally allowed me to create a safe space for readings. Ever since, I have learned much about myself, my environment, and my own unique spiritual journey. The first thing I recall from beginning the process was quite the opposite of what I’ve since achieved: utter confusion. I had no clue where or how to start!

The start of my path was rocky, and although I eventually pulled through, I wish I would have had some sort of beginner’s guide to show me what to expect before beginning my journey. This post is dedicated to anyone who may now be in that same boat.

BEFORE YOU BEGIN

Please note that this is only an introduction; your journey is your own, and as such, the energy you transfer into your own deck will bear unique results and interpretations. This guide, I hope, will simply give you an idea of what to expect during your first few months as a reader.

Now, without further adieu...

The Minor Arcana

Tarot decks are not your everyday playing cards, but there are similarities. Because they are already commonly known, these are a good place to begin your study of the deck. 

Every Tarot deck comprises 78 cards: the traditional 52 cards (also known as the Minor Arcana), ace through ten, Knight or Jack, Queen, and King; their Pages; and the 22 of the Major Arcana. We’ll begin by reviewing the traditional(ish) four sets of 13 and their Pages.

Wands

The Wands family, or the Deck of Wands, is represented by the element of air. As such, these cards tend to be indicative of figures and events that may require additional energy, creativity, or entrepreneurial effort. Wands cards present the most lighthearted of omens.

Astrology: Planets to consider: Uranus, Mercury, Venus; Constellations to consider: Aquarius, Gemini, Libra.

Cups

The Cups family is represented by the element of water, and deals with deep emotions and emotional connections. A reading from the Deck of Cups may symbolize a new relationship or friendship, a deepened connection, or, on the less appealing side, heartbreak or loss. 

Astrology: Planets to consider: the Moon, Pluto, Neptune; Constellations to consider: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces.

Pentacles

The Pentacles Family is represented by the element of earth, and deals with material gains and carnal affairs. A card of Pentacles might advise you to pick up a new craft, or prepare for an increase of wealth, or foreshadow grave carnal worries.

Astrology: Planets to consider: Saturn, Venus, Mercury; Constellations to consider: Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo

Swords

Represented by the element of fire, the Deck of Swords is perhaps the most intense family of the Tarot. Readings may range anywhere from symbolizing or foreshadowing a sudden epiphany, to a stalemate, to a betrayal, and so on.

Astrology: Planets to consider: Mars, the Sun, Jupiter; Constellations to consider: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius.

The Major Arcana

The Major Arcana is interesting in that it originated as its own set of playing cards. Also known as the “trumps,” this deck is represented by the fifth element, most commonly referred to as Spirit. Each of the 22 cards symbolizes a figure or event with heavy spiritual significance. This deck is composed of:

the Fool

the Magician

the High Priestess

the Empress

the Emperor

the Hierophant

the Lovers

the Chariot

Strength

the Hermit

Wheel of Fortune

Justice

the Hanged Man

Death

Temperance

the Devil

the Tower

the Star

the Moon

the Sun

Judgement

the World

Types of Readings

Once you’ve familiarized yourself with the cards, you can better begin to consider the different ways to read them.

A Card a Day

Drawing one card every day is comparable to reading a horoscope, but more personal to the reader because of the direct touch. This reading is ideal for giving you a quick glance at what may be in store for you today. Try to draw your card before leaving your house for the day, if applicable.

Past, Present, Future

Three-card readings are one of the most common. The first card you draw symbolizes an element of your past, the second represents a significant element of your present as effected by the first, and the third shows you where you are headed.

A Year in Review

Twelve-card readings are a lot of fun for New Years, birthdays, or any other major holiday or annual date of significance. Begin by drawing for the current month, then move from right to left, top to bottom for the following months, until you’ve drawn one card for each month of the year.

Tips for Shuffling

The first step of any reading is, of course, properly shuffling the deck. 

Begin by spreading the cards out before you, then gather them back together however they choose to fall.

Cut the deck three ways. If you’re drawing for yourself, you cut. If you’re reading for someone else, you shuffle, but have them cut. Then, you draw.

Helpful Hints for Beginners

Now that you’ve covered the bases, here are a few things I’ve picked up over the course of my journey.

Cleansing your deck

It’s always a good idea to cleanse your deck every so often to rid it of foreign energy: before the first time you use it, after doing a reading for another person, after the deck has been handled by someone else (or stepped on by a cat, as happens to me quite often), or just whenever you feel the time is right. Sage smoke is the most commonly used for cleansing, but there are many other alternatives as well.

Reading reversals

Because of their vague nature, reversals are often considered an unnecessary option, sometimes even feared as all-negative omens. That’s not the case. A reversal simply means the opposite of a card’s typical reading. For example, if you were to draw the four of Pentacles in reverse, it could mean you need to prepare for upcoming financial hardships.

Don’t become a self-fulfilling prophecy

This is a difficult thing to do sometimes, especially with the more intense card readings. Should you find yourself caught in a bad omen, it’s best not to try to avoid it. Instead, do what you can to prepare yourself emotionally, financially, or otherwise.

Note astrological / celestial figures

Tarot cards are a form of communication between us and the spirits of the earth, but that doesn’t mean the celestial influences don’t combine their energy with the cards as well. Pay attention what planetary bodies are in what signs. If you’re not in a good place to read the stars, download an app that tracks them instead. I use Time Passages.

Keep a journal

You may find your experiences more beneficial if you track each reading. Be sure to number your entries, and to include the date, time, and number of cards drawn. Begin by jotting down your initial thoughts. You may want to go back later the same day and add any other comments on your reading and how it may have translated into the day’s events.

Tarot cards in rituals

Personally, I don’t use Tarot cards in many spells, but I do occasionally use them to enhance crystal magic. For performing such rituals, your altar should include some sort of cloth or talisman; it could be a pentacle, or some other symbol. Place your Tarot card on one of the five points or sections of the talisman: North if it’s a Pentacle, South if it’s a Sword, West if it’s a Cup, East if it’s a Wand. If you draw one of the trumps, place it in the center of the talisman. Set your crystal(s) nearby and light a candle so that it shines on both the crystal(s) and the card, then speak your blessing or intention over the flame.

Myths about purchasing your first Tarot deck

There’s an old legend that warns of bad luck clinging to the deck purchased by a first-time reader, and that all first-decks ought to then be either gifted or stolen. This legend is only a myth passed down by ancient Gypsy tribes who were thought to be smuggling with money gained by dishonest means. So long as you cleanse your deck immediately after purchasing it and keep the cards stored somewhere safe, no misfortune will follow you.

~ And we conclude! ~

We’ll wrap up with a reminder that this is only a beginner’s guide! And speaking of guides, I’m sure you’ve noticed that I didn’t include the translations of each individual card. Simply put, that would take way too long. There are guidebooks available for cheap that provide good summaries of what each card could mean; or, tarot.com is a free website also providing short descriptions of each card.

I hope you found this guide helpful, loves. And if you’re having difficulty acquiring a Tarot deck of your own, don’t be afraid to look online! There are tons of unique, beautifully-illustrated card decks equipped to boost your spiritual journey.

As always, stay safe and take care,

~ Gail

[file-tunnel]

Excerpts from weekly report 7.

Our exhibition date has been set to the 20th of october. Following reflections, scripting, preparing, arranging, and then branding it all.

(graspable concept)

Statements/questions on exhibiting placebo products for fear of darkness.

Define the brand of the exhibition or the initiative before the user has entered the space.

Define how the room will communicate the products.

Define the products in the exhibition and their individual purpose

These factors should communicate what the participant can do afterwards and/or until the next exhibition or part of the service.

(Sengevesenet - Bed service/bed creature)

Concept Philosophy:

Sengevesenet is defined as an initiative service that seeks to explore how children and guardians may talk or act around fear of darkness.  As with a psychologist seen as a service, conversation is always based on personal triggers. We would never know what certain triggers are on behalf of all of those who are afraid of the dark. Design usually offers manifestations of needs. Although external conversational services - like psychologists, may work well as a conversational service, they are usually initiated on what is seen as uncommon and serious occasions. On “common” problems, like fear of the dark, parents are fully capable of dealing with the situation by talking to their child. 

So, what is really needed is a service that can act as a catalyst for parents to talk about sensational and emotional triggers with their children. This will be done by creating something together, based on the manifestations of their emotion, to suit the comfort of them both. 

Thus, conclusively, the dissemination of those real and valuable instances of (de)mystifying delusions will be in the hands of Sengevesenet. They will spread this to the masses in order to further strengthen awareness and experience of speaking about emotions with our younger self. 

This can be done through videos, graphics, ads, exhibitions, litterature, talks, seminars, games, products and subordinate services to name a few. 

(pallette/safe play)

Brand philosophy:

Name:

Sengevesenet has a double meaning. Vesenet as in creature, and Vesenet as associated with “service” as in the health care service (Helsevesenet). Thus, Sengevesenet is an authoritative “force” denoted by act around the myriad of situations unfolding in the bedroom of a child. Sengevesenet is also the actual thing -the creature as a product of imagination.

Sengevesenet is both a safe and organized thing, but at the same time, a representation of the actual thing it seeks to contain. Logo:

The logo is a visualisation of the name. It is a bed seen from above, with four legs, a pillow and a blanket. The perpective makes the bed look like a creature seen from the front. 

The tight and thick strokes of the logo is meant to make it look more emblematic, to strengthen its expression as an organized unit. The use of cursive is related to the cursive picture notes often used in children’s text books. A drawing or picture might need explaining, just as parent or child might need explainations of their emotions or sensations.   The use of paranthesis is also a nod to parts of the concept philosophy, as it is usually used with cursive under a symbol in translation, often of asian letters and symbols. Since the logo could draw some similarities to an actual asian letter, the logo plays with the literal cultural look of a translation. Our service will serve as a translator between parent and child, therefore giving the logo another dimension including the more obvious reasons stated above. This is not necesserily easy to catch, and we are motivated to keep it that way. 

(moodboard)

Visual Identity:

Sengevesenet communicates on behalf and within the borderland of adult conversations and child conversations. Visually, this can be expressed by exposing how children see “adult things” and how adults see “child things”. Mixing them, interpreting and translating them gives a visually interesting contrast between the mundane as an underlying justification to the playful.

A good reference are the products of the members of the Memphis Group. These were relaitvely normal everyday products, like a leaning chair, a lamp or a toaster, designed to look visually extreme. A stark contrast between expression and intention, giving the object personality and character though still maintaining their respective function.

This is empasized in the typography of Sengevesenet. Beneath the bubbly visual representations of ideas, follows a calm and controlled comment, interpretation or reiteration.

(Sengevesenet typography)

(context... maybe)

Other insights gathered during week 7:

Mats talked to his grandparents about our theme, trying to get a bigger grasp of the timeline of the subject we have been diving into.

With the rise of home electronics, our perception of childhood have shifted into something a far cry from what were typical just 20 years ago, when we were about the same age as our youngest user group. Contrasting even further, both the grandparents were that age during WW2, but under drastically different circumstances. 

The Grandfather (b. 1937) lived in Kristiansand during the War, a city which suffered greater civilian loss than any norwegian city during 9th of April 1940 (The day of the Nazi occupancy). The city was bombed several times, which resulted in several cases of evacuation, many times during night hours.

On the contrary, the Grandmother (b.1940) lived on a remote island outside Brønnøysund called Vega. Almost completely seperated from both cultural impressions and wartimes, she had an uncommonly isolated childhood. 

(war)

I suspected their most notable experiences around fear to be logical to their surrounding sociatal situations, and after presenting the frames around the project, asked them about their memories from the age of my interest. 

Reasonably, many of the things the Grandfather presented, were memories during and relating to the war. One of his earliest memories were being carried by his aunt, terrified of the loud german planes above. He also remembered being evacuated with his family during one night when a dud (bomb that doesn’t go off) were dropped in their garden. His memory was faint when asked if he had any troubles or trauma because of his experiences, but was also clear that he was very young and talk about the War was taboo, and the children were “sheltered” from knowing about the War. Aside from the combat related insidents, roleplay in the forest as cowboys and indians were mentioned, but nothing too spesific about any long-lasting fears.  The Grandmother was also quite vague, but in an interesting aspect to our concept and suspitions. She had no spesific fears but, in her words, were afraid of the unpredictability in the dark. Something might be there, and therefore, she is afraid. Death was the only thing to be specified, and the living dead was something she definetly didn’t appreciate. As a real death was one of the only ways to get exposed to something we today get exposed through earlier with pop-culture, mass information and easily available and less sensitive entertainment, and all the “memes” that might get stuck on the cornea of a 5-year old today, was easily enough not available. But the fact that she still was afraid illustrates a valid point, which was talked about in an earlier excerpt, namely evolution.  As a 5 year old, it’s perfectly normal to be afraid of the dark as we’re hardwired to do so, and therefore survive. We are by nature a weaker fighter in the dark, and a reason to be afraid of ghosts, could be to have a peg to hang the fear on. The Grandmother was definetly afraid, but weren’t exposed to anything that her fear could exist as. 

On the other hand, the Grandfather were exposed to real things happening, so his fears might weren’t that hard to deal with as they most likely weren’t “debunked” by his parents or peers, or the fact that he was too young to understand the actual terror of it, but rather afraid the loud noises combined with the stress of evacuating.  

Another theory is that they forgot about their fears a long time ago, and shoved them in tray way back in their head, unavailable for discussion. A lot of people who recall having fear of darkness either remember their feelings or the actual visual memories that they imagined at the time.

We theorise:

After conversing with someone who newly or currently experience fear of darkness, certain nuanced visual memories may pop up. 

People who had very distinctive visual representations of their fear will remember it more vividly later on.

Children who have a good ability to rationalize early on may still be supported by actually finding some kind of visualisation to aid them, either way.

With this, we conclude week 7, and prepare ourselves for making 12 objects for the exhibition. phew

[maasayada]

再体験それ自体が、忘れたことにしている I decide to forget about the things that I re-experience

夢のある一幕の印象が日中も残っている。けれど必���ではない。

起きた後で、寝床だけではあまりに味気ないので、無理矢理思い出して、なるべく長く覚えているように、と、視野の真ん中に引き据えたのはいつもとは別の自分だ。

ほとんど絵画的で、誰かとの短いやり取りさえ保持されず、一瞬流れた感情の色で夢の場面全体を覚えているだけ。誰だか分かるような分からないような人が沢山いたはずが、段々に抜け落ちて不明な一人になる。ネガティブな感情がそこに流れていたことが印象的でありつつ、起きている私の精神に動揺を全く与えていない。

長く引っ張られるような、別世界の残滓が消えないながら、自分を持て余す感じもあって、これは創作に充分な時間を割けていないときにのみ起こることだ。もしも自分が書いている小説からの照り返しなら、決してこのような静止した印象はなく、心が一緒に動く。まやかしは存在するし、それが警告として機能することもあるんだなあと思い観察している。

この状態を何日か保つと、日中目にする景色に対し、「あなたを夢に出すことは簡単だ」と語りかけている感じになる。例えば喫茶店で待っていた時刻が来たのを知り、階段を速足で降りていくと外はまだ明るく、街路樹の緑が窓の大半を占めている。窓の、開いてこれから私を通す部分の面積と、開かずに内側からポスターが貼られている部分の面積の比率や店内の薄暗さ、向かいの菓子店がピンク系の装飾ながら、その中に入ればここと殆ど同じ薄暗さなのだろうか、といったことが一気に把握される。私はその把握のダイナミックさに対して「あなたを夢に出すのは簡単だ」と呟いている。本当にまざまざと印象が把握できており、「夜、再び夢に出てきなさい」と命じれば必ず出るだろうと、能力を持った者として、少し厭いて感じることになる。

子供の頃近所の公園に写生に行って感じた、「十分美しく難しいのに、ここと画家が描くような場所とは何が違うのだろうか」といった感想までが、何なら蘇っている。

しかしこれだけでは創作でも思考でもない。

印象を受けたり閃いたり、思い出したりすることが創作や思考とダイレクトにつながっていると思い込んで、それらに身を委ね続けるだけでは、何もつくれない。踏みとどまって考えなければならない。夢はこのことを曖昧にする力を持っている。だから私は夢とは対峙しなければならないと思う。

人は一体どんなときに、悪魔とか誘惑とか思いつく、そういう言葉を使うのだろうか、と長年疑問に思ってきたが、ひとつ実感している、わかった気にさせられることは甘いまやかしであると。それとどう付き合っていくか。

だから先日からの「課題」である「再体験はよろこばしいか？」についても、再体験それ自体が、前にあったことを忘れさせ感動させようとする性質を持っているのかも知れないな、と思った。今日も縁から僅かに色づき始めた紫陽花を見て新鮮に感じたあとで、見たことがなかったはずはないし、忘れていたはずはない、と思い直した。

演劇の本を読んでいると言葉づかいが大げさになるきらいはあるのだが、ハイナー・ミュラーの『闘いなき戦い』は不思議とこういう攻防戦のニュアンスを含んでいて、読んでいて励まされる。

The impression from the first scene that is filled with dreams still remains throughout the day. But this is not inevitable.

After getting up, my bed just felt too bland to me, so I tried my best to keep remembering it as long as possible, and the object that I brought into my sight was a different me.

And almost like a work of painting, without being able to sustain even a short conversation with another person, I was remembering only the color of my emotion at a certain point in time that let me recall a scene from my dream. The heaps of people, all of whom I could only vaguely remember, had come out to become a single, completely unknown person. The impression I was left with was that my negative emotions were flowing in that moment, which, nonetheless, had no effect on my conscious mentality.

I felt like being dragged along, because the remnants of the other world refused to disappear, and that was simply too much for me. This happens to me only when I don’t spend enough of my time working on my original work. If the novel I am writing is somehow a reflection of myself, there is certainly no impression of stillness, as my mind moves along with it. Fake things do exist, and they also act as warnings, so I’ve been paying close attention to them.

Keeping this state for a few days makes me feel like telling the scenery during the day, that it is easy for me to make it appear in my dream. For example, when I saw that the time had come while I was waiting at the coffee shop, I rushed down the stairs, only to find that it was still bright outside, and the green color of the leaves of the street trees was filling up most of the windows.

After opening the window, I saw the area of the space I was going to let my body through, and so I compared it with the area the poster was taking up on the inside without opening the window, and the dimness in the shop, and the pink decorations of the snack store on the other side of the street. If I were to go in them, would I be surrounded in a similar dimness? I remember saying this once.

As for the dynamic nature of perceiving them, I muttered to myself, “it’s easy to think of a dream”. Really, the impressions are all perceived, and as a person who can summon the night in her own dream, I sometimes get a slightly unpleasant feeling.

The area of the part of the window that opens from now on, the ratio of the area of the part where the poster is attached from the inside without opening, the dimness inside the shop, while the confectionery shop across the street decorates the pink system, It is grasping at a stroke that if it enters it is almost as dark as here. I mistreat the grasping dynamics "It's easy to make you dream".

It is a truly grasping the impression and it feels a bit somewhat as a person with ability that it will certainly come out if you order "If you come back to the dream again in the evening", it will certainly come out.

I remember going to the park to do some sketching when I was little, and asking myself how the scenery I was drawing (which was both beautiful and complex) differed from what real artists were drawing.

Yet, that by itself was no original work, nor a real thought.

Committing oneself to beliefs that somehow things like feeling inspired, having a sudden epiphany, or recalling past events would directly lead to a creation of some kind of original work or thought will result in creating nothing. It is therefore essential to stop in our paths and think over, although our dreams often try to obscure this fact. That’s why I believe we sometimes have to confront our dreams to produce something of worth. I have been long wondering when people use words like demons and temptations, but I realized one thing: whatever makes me feel confident about something is really only deceiving me. It was a question for me how I would deal with it. As for the question: “is re-experience joyful?”, I thought that re-experience perhaps had a special property that lets me forget the former occasion, in order to leave a new impression in me.

Today, when I saw the hydrangea flowers that had slightly changed their colors, I reminded myself that I had indeed seen them before, and that I have not forgotten about them.

I am sometimes concerned that the use of often exaggerated vocabulary in written plays, but Heiner Müller’s “Battles Without Honor and Humanity” seems to use the word, “battle” with mysterious nuances. I find the work to be very comforting and reassuring.

[erudammit]

Fëanorian Week - Ambarussa (Fifth Love)

Summary: The cause of Amras’s death was not an enemy soldier, as legends declared, but Fifth Love. Length: 930 words Characters: Amrod, Amras, Ambarussa, Nerdanel, Maglor Tags: Synonymy, Twins, Introspectivity, Love, Angst, Childhood, Regrets Fëanorian Week Tag(s): Twin, Regrets, Childhood

Amrod and Amras were synonymous. So much so to the extent that they were often referred to as one: Ambarussa. And they truly were one.

Though the elves from afar had heard of the two and disbelieved such “rumors”, those who knew the two Fëanorians personally, or even vaguely, disagreed. It was clear through the way that they moved (one always shadowing the other, always at the other’s back, stepping in synchronization) that they were not two individual entities. Where one was, the other was sure to be, and Nerdanel couldn’t even recall all of the times she had sought out Amras or his brother only to find them both asleep in some secluded corner; the bench in their garden, perhaps, or up on the single balcony of the castle’s left turret.

When Ambarussa wasn’t peacefully dreaming, and his laughter didn’t ring through the woods as he hunted, he would climb up to the roof, giggling slightly and leaping across the dangerously slanted tile with a grin on his face. Ambarussa didn’t halt for the passing of time, nor did he let himself get caught up in it; he danced through the world without care and without consequence, a torrent of vitality not to be contained.

No, Amrod and Amras were not separate; they were one and the same- halves, if you will. And, as any half should, they complemented each other perfectly. It is now that I interrupt this depicting to try to explain a bit more thoroughly this phenomenon:

Two friends, siblings, lovers, or even mere acquaintances complement each other. One is always in opposition to the other through some aspects, yet lacking in the traits that supposedly coexist with said aspects. These same lacking aspects are the ones that the other person contains. It is through this shared chemistry that two people find peace in each other, drawing from another’s strength what would initially have been assumed to be shared territory to their own. Perhaps one might compare this phenomenon to two jigsaw pieces slotting together. It is said that those with the most complementing traits and the most clashing ones are those most compatible. This makes for a delicate understanding of such things; love is very conditional in this particular.

Two people who share aspects too similar result in nemeses. A nemesis does not despise the other; until they both end in a whirl of passion and a storm of emotion, they will merely co-exist. This is an understanding that is kindled the moment that they set eyes on each other. However, should the opposite be true, the two people in question will become entirely too indifferent to the other for any to consider their relationship a proper one. Love is the delicate balance struck in between both extremes, and one that is considered to be found in different levels.

First of all is the level that most consider to be entry; the absence or presence of this love determines whether or not two people will get along decently. Second is the level struck between two fairly close friends- romantic or not. This love is reciprocated, and build on the foundation of admiration and basic trust. The third level is the love that begins to become tricky, and more problematic; a passion that burns out quickly after the basic complementing emotions are exhausted. The fourth love is rare, and once found, it is enough for one to build their life around.

The Fifth Love is legendary, and more of a myth than anything else.

The Fifth Love is notorious, and more of a myth than anything else.

When the first love is broken, or the ties severed, nothing but puzzlement and annoyance comes of it. When the second love is broken, or the ties severed, confusion and sadness is the result. When the third love is broken, or the ties severed, wracking sobs and withdrawal are the epitome. The fourth love does not break, nor sever. It shatters, leaving one with a well of regret and depression. A well which one wishes to become reality, so that they might leap down it and end their suffering. When the ties of a Fifth Love are severed- for none of the partakers would ever dare or hope to break it- the lost love leaves nothing. When Fifth Love is ended, the person left behind by the other is lost beyond recovery, not able to be revived, no matter how animated they might seem externally.

It is the Fifth Love that many believed Ambarussa to have been be made of for so long.

It is the fourth love that people decided that it must have been, for when Amrod was killed, Amras soldiered on.

They forgot how the two were one, and separated them mentally when the twins were referred to. They didn’t see that Amras’s life was only lived externally.

Amras died that day, with his brother. There was empty space behind Amras’s physical shoulder and beside his side now, for no longer would the two complement each other to impossible perfection. No longer was Ambarussa alive. A single half lived by definition for a while, a reminder of his lost brother, before he too ended.

The cause of Amras’s death was not an enemy soldier, as legends declared, but Fifth Love. He threw away his sword in the heat of battle, going with a slight smile on his face. Maglor saw the spectacle, but he couldn’t blame his brother. He admired the strength that Amras had maintained to keep up the façade of living yet, for Maglor knew that Ambarussa truly had been Fifth Love.