#Magician Muddle

[heckyeahponyscans]

G1 My Little Pony comic - Sweetie and the Wrong Recipe

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Mini hc about the M6 when MC is in a potentially dangerous argument? Like they're initially watching MC on a intense argument with some jerk, but they start noticing the person is raising their voice a bit too loudly, raising their hand as a threat, surrounding MC against the wall, etc

The Arcana Mini-HCs: When MC looks like they're being threatened

Julian: stepping in without hesitation and using his words to redirect their attention to himself. whether that ends in him making a fool of himself to diffuse the tension or getting stabbed is up to the jerk

Asra: casting a quick spell to muddle your antagonist's thoughts and (potentially) make them make a fool of themself before grabbing your hand and leading you down a back alleyway. are you okay???

Nadia: sails in with her chin up and her eyes dangerously sharp and demands the jerk explain what business they have with her magician. what the jerk endures next depends on if they argue with her too

Muriel: all he has to do is start heading towards you out of concern before the jerk in question notices the 6'10 tower of general social annoyance with their commotion. they clear out fast after that

Portia: oh-hohoho, she is ready to rumble!! she's had to be nice to way too many snobby courtiers recently and she's got plenty of feminine rage that needs to be unloaded. step aside, she's got this

Lucio: well that's just rude - he doesn't even know who this jerk is, and they're hogging all your attention! he's tugging you away, and if they don't like that he's got plenty of frustration to vent on them

[headkiss]

Hi Anna, I'm a huge fan of your Steve writings:)) How about Steve x introvert!reader where they have a painting date night at one of their homes?🫶

hiii thank you so much!!! i hope u like it!! | 0.7k so fluffy

Steve is a romantic to the bone. When you first met him, he would’ve denied it to make himself cooler, but now, he wears it around you like a badge of honor.

He’s also ridiculously understanding.

Work today had been a lot, the bakery on main unusually busy with only two of you working. Not to mention you’d been working the front counter, when you’d much rather be in the kitchen making cookies and frosting cupcakes.

Drained is one way to put the way you’re feeling, the battery for socializing running lower and lower until it’s basically empty by the time you’re home.

Steve calls you like he knows exactly when you’ll be getting into your room, and you pick up despite your tiredness. There’ll always be room for him, you think.

“Hey, angel,” his voice loosens your tight muscles just a bit. “We still good for tonight?”

Back to him being a romantic, Steve insists that you go on at least one date a week, and it’s something that goes to show how much he cares about you and your relationship. He also calls you beforehand to check if you’re up to it every time.

You wince a little as you answer, feeling guilty for being tired and for wanting to stay in. “Would it be okay if we didn’t? I’m so sorry, work was a lot and-”

“None of that,” he cuts you off, “how about you just come here? Just me and you?”

“Thank you, Steve. I’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

“See you soon.”

Soon is the time it takes for a shower, getting dressed in sweats, and the drive over to his place. As you step out of your car, you worry that he had something special planned for today’s date, that you ruined that, but his beaming smile when he opens the door is enough to erase your worries.

“Hi,” he says, tossing an arm over your shoulders and tilting his head to push a kiss into your hair. “You okay?”

“Better now.”

Your arms wrap themselves around his waist, and though it’s awkward to walk through the house this way, neither of you make a move to pull away.

Steve leads you into the dining room, and your eyes well up just a little (maybe a lot) at what you see. He’s got a tarp laid over the table, two canvases set up on small easels right next to each other, and paint and brushes scattered over the table. Such a romantic.

“I thought maybe we could have our date here instead,” he tells you, rocking on his feet. Steve knows you better than anyone, and he knows that it can take a lot for you to be in social settings for a long time. He doesn’t care; the most important part to him is spending time with you, anyway.

So, he’s had some ideas for at home dates saved up for you. By the way your arms squeeze him tighter and you murmur his name, all delicate and surprised, he feels pretty good about it.

“Where did you get all of this? It’s barely been an hour since you called.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You lean up and kiss his cheek, the words ‘thank you’ pushed into his skin.

“Well,” he starts, his cheeks warming at your affection, “you wanna paint something?”

“Absolutely.”

It’s easy to get into the swing of things, dollops of paint squeezed out onto the tarp to use, cups of muddled water used to clean your brushes, and the sort of ease you’ve only ever felt around Steve.

You don’t know how he seems to understand exactly what you need without saying anything, how he accepts every bit of you without complaint, but you’re eternally thankful for it nonetheless.

He knows you the best, and he loves you the way only he could. In this big, huge way that’s in everything he does, even the way he paints the tip of your nose pink.

By the end of the painting session, you’re left giggling at Steve’s piece of art that looks like something a proud parent would put on their fridge.

“Whatever,” he says, fighting a smile at the brightness in your eyes and the laugh you’re hiding behind your hand. “It’s called abstract. Guess you just don’t have the eye for it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he cups your cheek in his warm palm, rubbing away a splotch of paint—one that he probably put there—with his thumb.

Your long shift feels ages away, long forgotten and replaced by paint stains on your clothes, a mess that neither of you can be bothered to clean up, and the all-encompassing feeling of being with Steve, of being known and loved by him.

[rainswept]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

CURTAIN CALL / lyney.

꒰ summary. ꒱ what is a magician if not adept at deceit? ꒰ cw. ꒱ implied major character death, death penalty, panic.

lyney’s hands fiddle with the cards in his grasp. he presses on the corner with his thumb and it flips over, between his fingers, back again. with vacant eyes staring straight through his movements, he does this over, and over, and over.

the clock ticks. lyney dreads when he’ll next hear its chime.

he sits. he waits. his beloved cards do not bend, do not break, under the unrelenting pressure he places them under. they simply continue switching fingers and hands, predictable, steady, like one of the many cogs in a machine. lyney’s mind follows suit. over, and over, and over again. the day goes on as normal. the day is normal.

“. . . the death penalty.”

when he had heard these words, the dam did not break. now, in the desolate backstage where he sits, alone, illuminated by dim, mocking spotlights, it all floods him at once. the thoughts pour in like a deluge; like the primordial sea rushing past the gates at the fortress of meropide; like the fontaine of the future he had desperately been trying to avoid.

when the iudex’s voice had rang true through the courtroom, lyney felt as if his heart would stop just as yours was destined to — but it didn’t. cruel.

he flipped the cards between his fingers again, again, and again. the day was normal. completely normal.

over, and over, and over again, lyney’s gaze had scanned the rest of the audience.

they were on the edge of their seats, as if it was one of his shows and they were pleading for an encore. delighted at the “twist”, as if it was one of his shows and he had just pulled off the trick of the century. clapping, as if it was one of his shows and they were especially pleased with the performance. they gazed at the trial as if it was a play, a scene wherein an actor’s hand was on another’s cheek, their hands hitting together in a resounding clap, the other acting as if they were hurt. excited, as if this matter of life and death was no more than a stage slap.

it made him sick.

his eyes rested on you, high above the audience, out of reach, the traveler beside you. you were just as calm as he appeared.

that made him feel even worse.

yet, never did he show it.

his hands began to shake. his breath catches in his throat. just as they had not then, his eyes widened, pupils dilating, distant and gaze shaking. he stares past his hands, unfocused, vision muddled and swimming. he did not stand, for he feared his limbs would fail him.

he feels “father”’s presence. behind him, before him, looming, dark, inside of him. he feels her gaze, boring into the back of his head, carving a hole in his skull like a bullet. he feels her hands wrapping around his wrists and resting on his shoulders, squeezing until his limbs shake and she could very well have been stabbing him with pins and needles or knives and he wouldn’t know the difference. he flexes his fingers to still their quivering, taking a quick breath in and opening his eyes once more. there are no tears.

the day is completely normal. he has a show at 6:00 pm, sharp. he checks the clock. it is 5:59 pm. you will be in the audience. the day is completely normal.

“lyney,” lynette calls, rounding the corner, “it’s time.”

he steels himself, adjusts his posture, fixes his eyes on the sights ahead. like one of the many tricks he holds so dear, his emotions are there one second and gone the next. he’d like to believe they were never there at all.

when he stands, steps in front of the audience, lyney draws the curtain on his sorrows and the great magician takes the stage in his stead. with a dramatic enough entrance, the pitiful performance of the previous is swiftly forgotten.

[rainykthebroken]

Love on a silver screen (link)

When Taranza had agreed to have a movie night with the magician, he hadn't imagined that it would provoke such infatuation in Magolor. He found it hard to understand why Magolor seemed so excited at the prospect, given that he and Marx were used to movie marathons until dawn.

What's more, the Floralian wasn't much of a cinephile, and he feared he might not be the most receptive person. Added to this was the fact that Taranza was an early sleeper. What if he didn't like the film? What if he fell asleep before the end? Magolor would surely be upset!

Fortunately, the Halcadran had quickly dispelled his fears. Whether he liked the film or not, the important thing was to spend an evening together, and Taranza was all for that.

He'd only been officially a couple for a few weeks, so the two lovebirds were still finding it slightly difficult to acclimatize to this new part of their lives.

Despite having spent much of his life imagining himself at Joronia's side, and having consummated a multitude of romance stories, Taranza found himself intimidated now that he was actually in a relationship. Spending these days with Magolor was great, but Taranza was still a little nervous of not being able to live up to someone so great. Ironically enough, the other magician felt the same way.

After a day of wandering around Dream Land and having one of those candlelit dinners Taranza loved so much, Magolor had hurried to get everything ready.

The spider was admittedly pretty tired, but watching his boyfriend go out of his way to make their night unforgettable once again had immediately put him back in the mood. There was something endearing about seeing him like this, the usual polite and ceremonial mask coming off to reveal his passionate side. He loved the "cool Magolor" as much as the "nerd Magolor", and watching him muddle through his various CDs while monologuing about the cultural impact of these films made his heart warm all over again.

Taranza had never needed to remember why he'd fallen in love with the feline, but seeing him so cheerful and enthusiastic could have triggered another love at first sight.

After inserting the disc and switching on the large flat screen, Magolor asked Lor to turn off the lights. Soon, the two magicians were snuggled under large blankets on their sofa.

From what Magolor had told him, Taranza was about to watch a masterpiece of cinema that the inter-dimensional pilot had found himself in the rubble of an ancient world forgotten on an old voyage. He couldn't stop talking about his admiration for his favorite film, which made the arachnid chuckle, finding it simply adorable. Seeing Magolor so open was always a treat.

Finally, explosions covered the screen, startling Taranza who grabbed Magolor's hand. The latter, after a quick tease, kissed the cheek of his "Ranran", which had the effect of darkening his bluish blush.

The rest of the night went according to plan, if not more amazing than Taranza's already high expectations. The drawn style struck a chord with him immediately, and as the minutes ticked by, he found himself more and more invested in the plot. With his eyes riveted and one of his hands still entangled with one of Magolor's, the bowl of popcorn quickly emptied.

If Magolor was casting small glances in his direction to assure himself of his comfort, his apprehension diminished as the movie progressed. His snide comments during certain cheesy scenes, as if in fear that Taranza would look down on him for liking what some considered a children's cartoon, also became increasingly rare. Soon enough, they were lying silently against each other, enjoying this little moment of happiness together.

It wasn't until the credits that Taranza remembered that there was a world beyond the one in the film, and that a weight had settled on his right shoulder. With some embarrassment, he realized that he had completely disregarded his surroundings, and even more so the handsome guy with whom he shared the sofa. He now felt all too well the absence of his fingers intertwined with his.

Slowly turning his head to thank Magolor for this incredible night, Taranza's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. His beloved kitty was no longer standing beside him...

He was literally sleeping against him!

Magolor rested his head against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around his. In a deep sleep, the love of his life emitted a little snore that could have melted him on the spot.

And by the stars, was it a light purr he was emitting?!

Taranza tensed, however, as he noticed that the pilot's hood had fallen back, revealing his scars. He wasn't sure if this was deliberate, and he knew how much Magolor hated showing them. Even if he had revealed them to Taranza before, they normally remained constantly concealed beneath the garment. It broke the Floralian's heart a little to know that Magolor thought he'd look at him differently if he left his wounds exposed for too long, but Taranza was willing to sacrifice the sight of his beautiful hair if it made him feel more at ease.

Taranza tried to stand up to give Magolor more room, but Magolor unconsciously pulled out his claws, determined not to let go of his substitute cuddly toy.

Taranza felt a little conflicted. This would be the first time he and Magolor had really slept together, and he wondered if he was ready to take the plunge.

Glancing again at his boyfriend, a smile formed on his face. It was so strange to see Magolor like this, so vulnerable, so peaceful, so happy. He'd let his guard down, fallen asleep in his presence, all because Magolor trusted him.

Taranza doubted that he would ever receive a greater honor in his life.

He quickly sat up again, taking care not to disturb Magolor, before curling up against him. There was a slight hesitation, then Taranza leaned towards his companion's head before placing a delicate kiss on it. Embracing him in their cocoon of sheets, the gardener murmured gentle words of comfort.

"Good night, my beautiful cosmic prince. Sweet dreams."

And with that, Taranza joined Magolor in the land of dreams, each eager to wake up in the other's arms.

[stockpilelena]

Day 52 Lena Challenge

First go at the 'Magician King' Motem, though this would be his younger appearance as he usually looks like an elderly man.

Originally, the concept was that a journal from long ago documented the personal details and accounts of the Magician King and the Crimson Knight Kion, and the main party discovers these pages as they travel the world. I don't think it'll work out the way I have it planned as it is now, but one way or another, their story was intended to be uncovered piece by piece as the main characters gain more knowledge and experience travelling the world.

Shortly after, the Magi colluded together to call forth the Withering Calamity, an event marked down in Alexandria's history as the day of the Shadow. Firsthand accounts and documentation are hazy and irregular at best, but those who survived it described it as a place where darkness crept from the ground and sprouted from all living things, the sockets and joints of animals seemed to leak living liquid that trembled and grew into each other, weaving and twisting, growing larger and darker, sinking its host deeper into an abyss that seemed to absorb all sense of life. A vast silence, an unearthly stillness, an emptiness beyond understanding, like whatever once existed would be forgotten and just a touch of it would consume all sense of yourself. The land, the plants, the stones, even the air felt like it was being pulled into this darkness, gnawing at itself and everything around it, drawing in the world and devouring its existence. A great sense of hopelessness and despair came upon those who dared witness it and live.

According to the scholars of Alexandria, the fiercest crusader employed by King Alexander himself was known as Kion. She was a magnificent warrior and beloved by her people for both her mighty strength imbued with the Divinity of Flame and her unyielding compassion for the weak and innocent. She was also part of the founding members of the First Flame chapter, the original soldiers trained and dedicated to eradicating the Magi threat. She performed her duties diligently until the rise of the Magician King, a beastly elderly man who somehow managed to gain control of his devilish powers and wield them like a monster unlike any Magi before him. Worse yet, Magi flocked to him seeking refuge and brotherhood, and instead of terminating each other, under the leadership of the Magician King, they were not just surviving, but growing stronger. Kion hunted him down and finally was able to confront him, but a poison stronger than any blade and that no antidote can cure crippled the Crimson Knight before this Magi as she had become deeply infatuated with him, turning against the chapter, defeating them and fleeing alongside the Magician King as a traitor.

Yet the great King Alexander used the last of his strength to personally stop the Withering Calamity before it could consume everything and bottled the Magi's strength within it, trapping the all consuming Calamity to infinitely devour the Magi's endless source of power. This seal was called the Hallowed Graces, physically locking away the Calamity, but leaving behind a massive crater in its place. Though the King was mighty, the cost was too great a strain on him, and he could no longer stay in the living realm, finally passing on and ending the era of the First King. The day of the Shadow both marks the survival of Alexandria and the passing of their founder.

While Magi no longer exist at full strength, their kin and bloodline continue to persevere as a diluted form known as Magicians, though thanks to the efforts left behind by the First Flame, have never grown in such power and strength as they did before the Calamity. While official details are muddled around the actual event, the fear of the Magi power became enshrined through all the living realm and rejection of Magician kind continued to propagate throughout time and history.

What is the truth behind the Crimson Knight, the Magician King and the Withering Calamity? Their personal journal may be the only real clue to what really happened all those years ago.

[crownofconvergencerp]

𝐀𝐒𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅

asvari is a refugee of war and being at the wrong place at the wrong time, fleeing to destarin after an accidental struggle with a cult of magicians left him branded as the enemy. His creativity and endurance are the main reason why he’s made it to be thirty-four, while having no idea what happened to those left of his family and town. All he wishes is to live in safety. He is a trans-man and answers to he/him. 

TW: Cult, Death, Slavery.

Asvari was born in the wrong body and in the wrong town. Withermore has its fringes, small towns and scattered hubs for those who don’t have a place in the bigger cities. Border skirmishes are always happening one way or another, and help is always too late. He was five when his town was attacked, the men were all killed, while the women who survived found themselves bound and led away, to be sold for profit over the border. Asvari was saved from the slaughter because he didn’t look how he felt. He and his grandmother managed to escape their capture because of the cunning of a few of the other women, and they fled into the woods.

For years the women attempted to rebuild a life, though heavily reliant on the Illusion magic mastered by Asvari’s grandmother, and his own growing power. Whenever he left the house, he looked like a boy. He managed jobs and feats that were often taken away from the women. The two of them created a ruse that kept people away. Very few were allowed in their trust. Because those who destroyed their town were still out there, and the women lived in constant fear that they might return.

Asvari meanwhile managed to master his skill. His grandmother had told him that their skill was only given to the women in their family, and that the only limitations were one’s endurance and creativity. As long as Asvari nurtured those, he would be capable of tricking people. But to him, it only sounded like he would never truly be a boy. He’d only ever be able to trick people into thinking it. And he was good at it, he was out for hours, and all those hours he kept up the illusion. But he grew wary of it, it wasn’t enough.

He found a witch who could make the illusion reality. For a price, but one that was worth it. She altered him, took hours to get his illusions just right, then told him to rest there in her home until he felt strong again. Which is when things got messy. Another one of the witch’s patrons appeared, scared, bloody, requesting aid. A small cult was after her, magicians with wrong intentions, with beliefs that had gotten muddled and twisted by dark magic. Asvari and the witch offered their help, it was through illusions that they managed to escape, but they both got hurt. The witch didn’t survive, and Asvari could barely walk. The patron brought him to safety, made sure he was looked after, and then disappeared, hoping to lure the cult away from him too. Not aware that the wound inflicted had branded him.

Asvari remained safe for a few days before he had to flee again, chased out of the town he was staying in, finding himself at a royal’s court, where he used his illusions to claim their safety, by pretending to be an artisan apprentice. He didn’t lack the creativity to do so, merely the skill. Almost everything he created within his first few weeks were only illusions, held together by his endurance, until they unravelled. He began to pick up actual skills on the job, even if they were nowhere near as good as what he envisioned. It kept him from leaving the safety of the court. Protected - yet also distrusted - by the court magicians. And he fell in love, with none less than the princess of the court. A love that wasn’t meant to last, because he knew there would come an end to this good thing. A moment where he was once again thrust into danger and forced to flee.

When he was finally found out, Asvari used his illusions once more to create a way out. Faking his own death into the icy waters of a nearby river, while he began his long trek to new opportunities. Landing several months later, in the town of Destarin.

WHAT ARE YOU...?

species: witch of illusions/illusionist. weaknesses: mortal, anything that makes him lose a clear mind (smoke, drugs, lack of sleep). strengths: illusion magic, the ability to convince the minds of others that things are there that aren’t there (this includes all the five senses). physical description: witches of Illusion who aren’t part of any coven aren’t easy to pick out of the crowd. they seem to vibrate slightly when practising their magic, though this is something with time they can learn to control and lighten.. additional info: witches of Illusions are unable to generate any other kind of magic, more often referred to as Illusionists, they have a particular ability to make another mind believe a lie they created, but only as long as they are sound of mind. This ability is only given to the afab members of a line, and sometimes skip a generation.

ashvari dien is played by niek and their fc is leith ashley.

[dreamsausage]

lesbian robot dream

just had a dream where were walking g around my favourite park with a family I didn't recognise. we were going a route that was totally different to the one we usually take, and it seemed to mix another park I like in with it. we walked past a path that had a big solid dam locking in a pool of water, but we were on the other side and there were about 15 herons all standing in the water eating snails.

then we turned a corner and we found these two guys who were actors I recognised but they weren't actually irl people from what I could tell? like my brain went "oh I've seen them on tv" but they didn't look like anyone I've seen before.

they were working on several computers and talking to eachother so we came over to ask what they were doing. turns out they had found some lost media in the form of a movie that they wanted to publish on YouTube, and they realised they were close to where it was filmed, so they came over to compare it.

we watched as they discussed the movie, and they apparently hadn't published the video yet and were just verifying it before they did. they played it in full so we could see what happens in it.

It was a bit muddled, but it was the same every time they replayed it, down to the voice acting. it seems some kind of magician who worked for the mayor of a town created a sentient robot, and used magic to give her a human body to see if the town would accept her. a lot of the town didn't like her because she was very tall and slightly unsettling, and she didn't know how to use the hands she now had so they were constantly frail, curled up and bruised from her stubbing them constantly.

the first half of the movie was in stop motion animation. here it introduced Seffie (the robot girl), the magician who was like 30 years old? and he didn't do much because he had to travel to the next town to get stuff at the start, the mayor who was a very nervous old guy who had a robot butler that followed him everywhere and helped to reaffirm the mayor's decisions, a barber and a shoemaker who went everywhere together and seemed to be played by the same two actors from before, and Lilith, one of only a few 18 year old girls in the small town.

lilith immediately liked the robot girl and couldn't understand why everyone else was so weirded out by her. there was a scene where she was talking to her mother while collecting up the stuff she needed around the house (because she worked as a carpenter) and her mother was saying

"you need to keep your distance from that robot. it doesn't have the capacity to care."

and lilith said

"you just don't get her mum. she has her own way of doing things. and anyway, she's really beautiful..."

at that she grabbed a long hair tie made of pink flowery ribbon off the hat stand, looked at it and thought for a second, then put it in her bag and left the house.

I can't entirely remember the events in between this and the next important part in order but it was just lilith making friends with seffie, taking her around the town and showing her things, sharing her favourite food with her, and then she gave her the hairtie. seffie doesn't have a lot of hair so the hairtie made it seem much longer, and it matched the pink colour of her eyes. at this point something begins to change in seffie and she becomes more proactive and talkative.

there was one part where lilith, seffie, the two guys, the robot and the mayor were all in a car driving down a long path near a lake. the road was slightly uneven and while they were talking, the car malfunctioned and the brakes stopped working. the mayor lost control of the car and it fell into the lake, quickly starting to fill with water.

seffie successfully opened the side doors and the mayor and the robot guy got out of the driver's side, while the barber and the shoemaker got out of the other. there were loads of long plants coming up from the seabed and the robot almost got tangled in them, but he managed to cut through them with his metal claws and pull the mayor up out of the lake. the barber also nearly got his leg tangled up but he had a pair of scissors in his pocket so he cut through the plant and tried to swim out with the shoemaker.

but then it turned out the shoemaker had his hand stuck in the window, which had automatically tried to close when the car malfunctioned. it was too tightly stuck to get his hand out, but the glass was reinforced and almost impossible for him to smash. the shoemaker started drowning and the barber kept ahold of his other hand trying to figure out how to get him out.

then Seffie realised that those two weren't going to get out, so she used her feet to kick open the sunroof while lilith worked on smashing the window. eventually the window broke and they all swam up through the car and got out of the water at the top. the shoemaker coughed up water for a while but he and the rest of the people turned out ok. originally the shoemaker was a little skeptical of seffie but after this he couldn't ignore that she was a good person who genuinely cared for others, unlike what the town thought.

they all walked back to town and the shoemaker got his hand looked at by a doctor when they arrived. some of the townspeople didn't entirely believe what happened, and thought that maybe lilith was the one to actually kick open the sunroof, or even that seffie caused the malfunction. everyone who had been in the car steadfastly refused any of these ideas and insisted the truth of what happened. seffie stayed quiet because she didn't think the people would listen to anything she said.

there was a bit of a blur where something happened but I can't quite remember, but then it came to the end of the movie and the final scene was between lilith and saffie. they were in an orchard in full bloom and seffie still had the hairtie on. they were sitting together and talking about things they wanted to do during the week, and lilith seemed unusually nervous. she grabbed seffie's hand and told her there was one thing she wanted to do right that moment, which was tell seffie that she loved her.

seffie was quiet for a second, but then she pulled lilith into a hug and said "even after everything the people in town said about me?"

lilith said she didn't care what they said, and she loved seffie anyway.

they started to sing their favourite song together and dance around in the orchard. the barber and the shoemaker had been there too watching to see if it would go well, so they came out and congratulated both of them, and then they all started dancing.

the next scene was them walking back to town and lilith and seffie were holding hands and smiling. lilith's mother came out of the house and saw seffie smiling and looking at lilith lovingly, and she realised that maybe seffie really wasn't a robot anymore, and that she not only had capacity to care, but also to love.

they got married and then the credits played. the two actor guys decided that it was indeed the full version like they had hoped, and they immediately began uploading it to various sites, then copied the whole thing to a disc and made plans to have it rereleased by a film studio they had ties to.

a lot of the scenes in the movie were bloody because seffie never fully learned how to use her hands, especially in the car scene since she tried to break the windows and the sunroof with her hands first, breaking them and cutting them on the sharp edges. when she got out of the car there was blood running down her arms and some on her face from the initial crash. several other scenes had her try to use her hands wrong and hurt them, with lilith helping to clean them up.

during the wedding scene her hands and forearms were wrapped in bandages. she never moved her fingers from a fist and held things with both hands. the bloody scenes were often hard to watch because it was obvious she found using her hands very painful, which may be a reason why the movie wasn't archived. I think another of the reasons why the film was lost was because it was a lesbian love story too, and critics received it poorly due to public opinion of gay people at the time. "why couldn't the robot be a boy?" and so forth.

there had apparently been a forum post where this person had remembered the movie, but she only had screenshots of "when I thought seffie looked the most beautiful". she had posted these images to the forum and they were very low quality, so me and the other two guys started going through the movie and finding all the same parts and re-screenshotting them so they were in high quality for this person.

I couldn't tell what time the movie was set in, but it definitely felt like it was in the past. the clothes they wore and technology of the time felt almost steampunk, but it wasn't as over-the-top and many of the people there didn't really bother with technology much, plus they did widely have electricity.

colour definitely drove the narrative a lot. seffie originally had a very monochrome white theme except for her deep pink eyes, while lilith was always very pink and purple. the more the two got to know eachother, the pinker saffie got. her wedding dress at the end was rose pink.

the barber and the shoemaker both wore mostly brown and their hair was very dark brown, almost black. they wore the same things but clearly were not related, just very close. there was a rumour going round the forums that they were initially planned to also get married at the end, but this was scrapped to put the focus on the girls instead.

lilith's mum always wore green, and the rest of the townspeople mostly wore grey, black and white. the magician wore red and had deep pink eyes that matched saffie's.

weird dream but really quite nice honestly.

[supernutellastuff]

running like water - a Zutara oneshot

AU Post-finale, that time when an assassin crashes Zuko's 18th birthday. Luckily he has a master waterbender by his side. Ft. a badass Katara, Fire Nation political intrigue, and Bloodbending as flirting.

(Realised I'd written this years ago but never posted. Hopefully this gives me some much-needed inspiration while I muddle through my WIPs. Happy reading!)

link on ao3

Or read below!

It’s Zuko’s 18th birthday and he is nowhere to be found. By all accounts, he’d made an appearance at the Royal Ball for a respectable amount of time and then disappeared into thin air. Katara hurries across the halls of the palace, one hand gathering the skirts of her formal gown, her heels clicking on the marble floor. The palace staff haven’t seen him either—he wasn’t in his bedchambers, nor in the library, and she’d even checked under the willow tree next to the turtleduck pond. Katara fumes, her annoyance rising. She’s laboured over his gift for days, the least he could do is not get kidnapped or whatever.

It’s nearing midnight and Katara is about to contemplate hiring the services of Jun and her shirshu when she remembers the one place she hadn’t yet searched: the rooftop. While the rooftop was largely inaccessible, owing to its steep pagoda architecture, there was a flat alcove, hidden to the public, that opened up to the sky. Zuko had shown it to her a while ago when he was making plans for renovation, but it was dirty and in disrepair then, which is why it had slipped her mind.

The entrance to the roof is hidden behind a tapestry, a rather heavy, ugly thing the colour of blood. Katara twitches the tapestry aside and slips behind it. A narrow spiral staircase stands in front of her, illuminated by a hanging dusty lantern. Clutching the wrought iron railings, she begins the dizzying climb. An unexpected sight greets her at the top.

The place has been transformed into a charming rooftop garden. Vines climb the walls and trail down the parapet. Rows of potted herbs are flanked by beds of exotic flowers, the spicy and sweet scents intermingling in interesting ways. Fat beeswax candles stuck on iron stands are placed strategically in recesses, giving the entire garden a low, atmospheric lighting. And lounging on a profusion of cushions, eyes shut, his top knot undone, is Zuko.

“Took you long enough,” he says lazily, cranking one eye open.

“Happy Birthday,” Katara snaps, flinging the wrapped parcel at his stomach with a little too much force.

Zuko straightens immediately. “What is this?”

“Your present, dummy. I’ve been running around everywhere looking for you.”

He frowns. “Didn’t Oromi deliver you the message?”

“What message?” she asks, sinking into a cushion beside him.

“He must have misplaced the note again.” Oromi was the new palace gardener, a country lad, kind-hearted but rather forgetful. He was a magician at his work, though—he could make the stubbornest of saplings sprout and the most exotic flowers bloom under his care, almost like he was bending them. This little rooftop garden seems to be his doing. “I wrote you a message asking you to meet me here. I could not stand all those dreadful festivities.”

“Yes, yes what a bore having people throwing grand parties in your honour.”

A sheepish smile spread across his face. “I appreciate it all, I really do.”

“The royal cooks roasted an entire hippo-ox in your honour.”

“And I savoured every bite of it…but it exhausts me, having to put on this stern, aloof, regal front.” He does look exhausted, there are lines around his eyes that have no business being there. He also looks older; the planes of his face have sharpened and there’s stubble on his face on days he has no official business. “I hate pretending to be someone I’m not, especially on my birthday, when I’d rather spend time with the people I like.” His eyes flicker to her and her stomach flips.

Clearing her throat, Katara gestures to the package lying in his lap. “Open your gift.”

Zuko picks up the gift, examining it from every angle. Katara watches him carefully as his deft fingers unwrap the parcel, untying the strings and peeling off the layers. Nestled in the folds is a stack of small, unassuming-looking, semi-circular cakes.

“It’s a mooncake,” says Katara hurriedly. “A traditional Water Tribe recipe. Probably not a very special gift but my mom used to make them for birthdays-”

Zuko is already digging into the stack. He takes a bite, makes a sound of appreciation, and polishes off the whole cake. “Is there fruit jam inside?!” he asks in delight, mouth full. He offers a cake to her and picks another for himself.

“Yes!” She grins. “Salmonberry jam. I spent days in the palace kitchen, trying to get the thickness of the filling right. It needs to be the right amount of oozy…”

The words die on her tongue. Zuko is licking the jam off his fingers. She puts down her cake, suddenly very flustered.

Zuko looks up as she falls silent. Their eyes meet and the moment holds still. They’ve been dancing around each other for the past two years, longer than that, if she’s honest. Lingering looks, not-so-accidental touches, charged banter…she’s been noticing it more in their interactions lately, whether it’s quiet picnics beside the turtleduck pond or heated fights during state meetings. And now this connection, whatever it may be, is threatening to make itself known in very real ways. Katara has half a mind to brush off the moment with a flippant remark.

It’s Zuko who breaks the silence. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he comments. She’s wearing a traditional Fire Nation gown, richly embroidered in threads of red and gold, but her hair—

“Your hair is braided Water Tribe style. It looks good on you.”

She smiles, fighting off a blush. “Thank you.”

He’s not done. He runs his hand through his hair, seemingly gathering courage for something. “Katara, I-”

There’s a rustle behind her. She spins around. Her body falls into a fighting stance before she can even register what she’s seeing.

A man has climbed over the balcony and dropped to his feet. Clad in black from head to toe, he grins at Zuko. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” He sounds calm but like her, he too is in a fighting stance, feet planted solidly on the floor, hands balled into fists at his side. Gone is the rumpled, cake-loving boy—in his place stands a deadly warrior.

“I’m no one, and everyone,” the intruder replies coolly, pacing from side to side.

“Catchy,” says Katara, not taking her eyes off him, cursing herself for not having her water canteen on her. “But that tells us nothing. Why are you here?”

He turns to her, appraising her from head to toe. “Good question. I’m here because I was told he’d be alone. Instead, I find him here with a date. Anyway, doesn’t matter. The more the merrier.”

“What do you want?” Zuko repeats, his voice a low growl.

“You, of course.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Zuko punches out a plume of flame so bright it turns night into day. But the assassin is ready. He moves his arm and a smooth disc of metal grows in his hand, blocking the fire and dispersing it on all sides. Katara averts her head from the heat. “He’s a metalbender!” she yells.

The fire had evaporated all the water from the air; Katara draws every drop she can muster from the soil and plants around her, sending Oromi a mental apology, and takes control of the water. There’s not enough room for one of her signature water whips. She flings ice daggers at the same time Zuko attacks with a rapid series of fireballs. Forced to parry their combined charges, the assassin should have been cornered and trapped, and that should have been the end of it.

But with a twist of his hand, the man curves his metal shield, deflecting her daggers and sending them onto the fireballs. There’s a great sizzle and a large cloud of steam mushrooms in the air. Taking advantage of the distraction, he tosses something at Zuko.

“Zuko!” she shouts. She hears a yelp of pain and a thud. The steam is still hanging in the air; she can’t see. She frantically bends the vapour, blowing it away into the night sky, beyond the balcony. Cool air rushes in, stinging her scalded skin. Her sight clears. And there’s Zuko on the ground, squirming, as twisting ropes of metal wrap around his ankles, wrists, torso, and most alarmingly, his neck. Katara moves towards him.

The assassin laughs. “One more step, girl, and I squeeze the life out of him.” The rope around Zuko’s neck tightens and he chokes.

Katara stops. Her mind is working rapidly, one eye on the bindings around Zuko, and one eye on the assassin. She’s out of breath, her hair is burned, her gown is ripped in places, and she’s out of water. She hadn’t worn a water canteen with her water gown. She hadn’t expected trouble inside the palace. She’d grown complacent. And now that was going to cost Zuko his life.

“If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it,” spits Zuko between gritted teeth. “But let her go.”

“Zuko, shut up. I’m not going anywhere.”

“How about this, I torture the Fire Lord, extract some information out of him, and then kill you both. How does that sound?”

“Why are you doing this?” asks Katara.

“To return things to the way they were, of course.”

She snorts. “Heard that before.”

A furious look splits his face. “You wouldn’t understand, little waterbender. Go back to your primitive backwaters and don’t interfere.”

Katara glances up at the starry sky. Get him angry, keep him talking.

“How come a metalbender is interfering with the Fire Nation’s state of affairs then?”

“I’m not interfering! I have a personal stake in this.”

“What, money? Did some disgruntled Fire Nation lord pay you to topple the throne? Or are you a Azula sympathiser, clinging to some romantic notions of an autocracy? Or god forbid, are you one of those nutjobs who want to bring Ozai back?” She mocks a look of disgust and horror.

The man clenches and unclenches his jaw. She can sense that his anger is rising, he’s bursting to defend himself.

“Okay I have two more guesses.” Katara is talking faster now. The ropes are now cutting into Zuko’s skin. Despite the pain, he’s been keeping quiet. Perhaps he knows what she’s up to. “You’re an ex Dai Li agent who turned to metalbending and is now taking revenge. No? How about-”

The assassin hurls a block of metal at her stomach, knocking the wind out her. “You’re getting on my nerves now. You’re that waterbender girl, aren’t you? The one who was with the Avatar? I expected better from you. All you have is talk. You don’t have water, what are you going to do?”

And it’s at that exact moment, the clouds in the sky disperse and the full moon reveals itself.

Katara rises up and grins, a slow, unnerving grin. She couldn’t have timed it better herself.

“I don’t need water.”

The man doesn’t know what hits him. One moment he’s in full control, the other he’s a puppet in her hands.

“What is happening to me,” he cries out in fear and pain as his body contorts against his will. The ropes binding Zuko fall away and he springs to his feet. “Keep him there!”

“Gladly,” replies Katara with a grim smile. A fury like she’d never felt before rises in her stomach and she flops the assassin around like a grotesque marionette. He hurt Zuko and he is going to pay for this…

Moments that feel like eternities later, Zuko returns with the palace guards. She releases her control and the man crashes to the floor. Looking shocked and horrified, he scrambles away from her and straight into the waiting arms of the guards.

She rests against a vine-covered wall, suddenly exhausted.

As the guards take the would-be assassin away, the Head Guard insists on staying with Zuko or taking him inside to the medical wing. Zuko shoos them away impatiently. He has eyes only for her.

Once they’re alone, he approaches her. “Are you okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“I’m fine.” He shows her his neck and wrists where he’d tried to burn through the rope, but the hot metal had only burned him in return. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“I’m sorry about your garden,” she says, gesturing at the dead plants, burnt flowers, and wrecked furniture.

“In retrospect the hanging ivy was a security hazard.”

She laughs. Then sighs. “We’ll need to question the man, find out who he is, what he meant by information-”

Zuko places a hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow. We’ll deal with him tomorrow.”

Katara leans into him, glad for the support. “You didn’t tell me what you thought of the mooncakes.”

“Katara, I would love the mooncakes even if they tasted of ash.”

“Well, you got your wish.” She smiles and points at the trampled cakes that had been unfortunate enough to come into contact with one of Zuko’s fireballs.

“Another crime to add to the man’s tally.” His expression turns serious. “You were amazing out there, Katara. The bloodbending. You saved my life.”

Katara shifts. While the others had never outright spoken about it, she knew they disapproved of her bloodbending—it was too violent, it was too destructive, it wasn’t like her, etc. etc. But Zuko…the quiet awe is Zuko’s voice is devoid of any judgement. She remembers the same non-judgemental support from the time they went looking for her mother’s killer.

“I want to know what it feels like,” he whispers.

“What?”

Zuko steps closer to her. “I want you to bend my blood. I want to experience what it feels like.”

“What—but no—it’ll hurt you!”

“I should know about it from the training point of view. What if I have to face a bloodbender in battle one day?” he says, matter-of-factly. Then his voice drops to something deep and low. “Besides, I’ve always been curious ever since I saw your bloodbend.”

Katara has a strong feeling that they’re about to cross a line of no return. “Are you sure?”

“I trust you,” is his simple reply.

So Katara goes for it. With trembling fingers, she makes figures in the air, just like Hama had taught her, but gentler, much gentler. She can feel his heart pumping, the blood flowing through his veins. There’s something strangely intimate about having access to his body like this. Zuko watches his hand rise up in the air above his head and come back to rest on her shoulder. He lets out a hiss that could either be of pain or of amazement.

This feeling—of having power over someone, making them do whatever she wanted—was always something that had excited her about bloodbending, and made her feel ashamed of it at the same time. But this was something different. Having power over Zuko, moving his body whatever way she wanted, but only because he was letting her…it ignited something very different in her. An excitement like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Longing. Desire.

She releases the bloodbending and looks up at Zuko. His pupils are dilated. And he’s looking at her with the same excitement. Longing. Desire.

“I had this whole speech planned,” he says hoarsely. “With the candles and the flowers and the cushions under the stars.”

“Another crime to add to the man’s tally,” she repeats in a whisper, their faces closer than ever.

“Should I make my speech now? Katara,” he begins dramatically, “I have known how I felt about you ever since-”

“Zuko,” she advises. “Shut up.”

And they spend the rest of the night in the ruined wreckage of the garden, under the starry sky, on cushions slightly sticky with salmonberry jam, doing a whole lot of shutting up.

Leave a comment on ao3 or read more of my work!

[heckyeahponyscans]

just g1 comic things: Taking incredibly quick turns with ominous implications just to resolve the problem immediately in about two panels

"Listen, they wear ice cream, they eat ice cream, they build their homes out of ice cream", only for this problem to be instantly resolve, was so funny.

Also the completely unnecessary post-script that was like: "That ~silly~ Magician Muddle accidentally sent the goblins to Ice Cream Land some time ago. Where they became ice cream slaves. Oh Muddle, what a SILLY magician you are!"

[jewwyfeesh]

Magician’s Chessboard 4

Writer: Mitsuki

Character(s): Sakasaki Natsume, Yuuki Makoto

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

Natsume: Of course I can’t tell you that. As for the specifics… I suppose it depends on how much you’re able to squeeze out of me ♪

Season: Summer

Location: Information Room

A few days later

Makoto: ……

Ah! Oh, it’s you, Natsume-kun[1]! I was so engrossed in my research, I didn’t even hear anyone come in…

Natsume: I knocked on the door, though? Seems like you really didn’t notice.

Makoto: Ahaha… it’s probably ‘cause of the really powerful noise cancelling on my earphones… but I wasn’t expecting to have this kind of downside to them…

Natsume: By the way, that’s the brand’s introductory concept PV that you’re watching, right? Are you going to attend the filming?

Makoto: Ah, it’s the one where Aoba-senpai attended as their designer, yes! It’s no surprise that you’re familiar with it.

Natsume: (Senpai didn’t breathe a word about Yuuki-kun’s participation at all… Is he here to check on some materials simply because the public has gradually started to talk about it…? Or is there some relation to whatever The Emperor is doing…?)

(Regardless of why he cares about it, his presence here means that I can use it to relay some information. Of course, it would be best if I could sniff out which direction The Emperor intends on taking…)

Makoto: I didn’t actually receive an invitation to the audition. It’s just that, as the head of the Intelligence Bureau, I felt that it’s important to be aware about the topics that are currently trending.

Even though the online discussions are getting quite heated… fans were, and still are, outsiders. It’s obvious that they are still unclear about the ins and outs of the situation.

If this develops into a catfight between the two companies, well… collecting intel ahead of time becomes all the more important~

Natsume: You can always come to me if you have any questions, Yuuki-kun~ We were classmates in our second year, so what about a lil’ bit of insider information？

For example, who CosPro intends on casting—

Makoto: Ee-eeeeh??? Hold on hold on, are you allowed to tell me this!?

Natsume: Of course I can’t tell you that. As for the specifics… I suppose it depends on how much you’re able to squeeze out of me ♪

(If Yuuki-kun had investigated on his own, he would’ve had an inkling as to what I’m talking about… So the most important thing right now is to muddle it up.)

(Intel, by itself, doesn’t carry much power… but how it’s leaked, how much is leaked… if the other party only holds information that I want him to know… it could very well mean I’m a step closer to victory.)

(If we’re talking about info that could get StarPro to willingly collaborate… there’s only this…)

How ‘bout I divulge a piece, free of charge? Say, a little birdie told me that a certain bigshot seems to have recently interviewed the vice president of Cos Pro…?)

Makoto: I remember that person! They always gave me the impression that they had wanted ES to get more clout. It’s expected that, when an exploitable opportunity comes swimming by, they’d be the one to bite the bait~

Anyways, I’ve gathered lots of info today! Thank you very much, Natsume-kun[1]!

Natsume: There’s no need to thank me~ It’s my pleasure…♪

Makoto addresses Natsume with "Natsume-kun" (夏目君) in this story, though it's probably just because Mitsuki forgot about Sakasaki-kun.

[firstginger]

Hi Lauren. Are you still doing daemon form finding requests? Also what are your thoughts on the instinctual variants? Took me awhile to properly grasp and understand mine (a seriously long time,I was so confused😅). I was wondering if you factor it in with form finding or if you find it irrelevant. Thanks! God speed with your thesis💪

yes absolutely! :D i've been pretty absent these last few months as i'm finishing up my phd, but i'm finally finding time to go through my inbox!

that's a really great question and like you said i feel like there's so much confusion around the instinctual variants especially with how they interact with your enneagram. from a theoretical standpoint, the instinctual variants by their nature encompass three biological concerns of humans and animals: the survival self-preservation instinct, the bonding social instinct, and the intimate sexual instinct. it's clear that the importance of these instincts vary between species. an asocial animal like the polar bear clearly places less emphasis on the social instinct, while a domestic animal like the cow places less emphasis on the self-preservation instinct. but when you move away from extreme examples, it becomes a little more muddled. i think then you risk falling into the instinctual variant trap: viewing them entirely as stereotypes, such that a highly gregarious animal (ex a flamingo) would of course have to be a social dominant, or a stereotypically sensual and dominant animal (ex a jaguar) would of course have to be a sexual dominant. not to mention that there's just so much overall confusion around the sexual subtype. with the struggle to identify it across people, how do we start to quantify intimacy, sexuality, and spirituality in an animal species?

i think the instinctual variants might actually help shape your pullman form better, if we view them through an archetypal lens. the enneagram theory kind of does this for us -- there's nothing they love more than giving titles to subgroups lol. then it suddenly makes more sense to assign these instincts to animals based on how we as people perceive their role in our narrative of survival and instinct. we've always used animals to represent innate aspects of human nature; instead of asking how exactly the mule deer balances its prey-like self-preservation with its gregarious social tendencies with its overt displays of sexuality ecologically, we're considering how we've assigned particular motifs to the deer. even then i don't think it's entirely clear cut especially if you consider your primary and secondary instincts. but i think considering how your variant plays into your identity and archetype as a person (a social dominant being a caregiver or jester, a sexual dominant being a lover or a magician, a self-preservation dominant being an innocent or everyman) may help determine your symbolic form.

i rambled but overall to sum it up, i think it matters most for how the individual views their identity and what their daemon form should portray -- i think it's more difficult to consider it when looking at animal behavior. when people include it in their form finding requests, i tend to treat it a little more as "flavor" -- such than an ocelot may be more sp/sx and a jaguar more sx/sp just because the jaguar is a larger apex predator, not that the jaguar is an innately more spiritual and intimately-bonding animal. someone who's sx/sp is going to be looking for a form that matches their intensity, drive for meaning, and grand self-absorption, while someone who's sp/sx is going to be looking for a form that matches their cunning survivalism, need for private refuge, and unknowable self-absorption (i love so-blinds i promise).

i'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on it!!

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Manuscript Search Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @cljordan-imperium! :D

Words: real, reason, mastermind, plan and fade. These are from Like Snow on Hungry Graves and The Power and the Glory:

Real:

If he'd been asked what the sea looked like Hariye would have said, "Like a large fishpond." Now he was confronted with the real thing, and he realised he might as well as have said Mount Atagzi was like a large pebble.

Reason:

How could he say 'People would want to skin me alive if they found out what I am' without sounding insane? Or worse, revealing he was a mer to someone who might want his scales too? He couldn't. The best he managed was, "It's a good reason but I can't explain it."

Mastermind:

Haliran internally rolled her eyes at her daughter's stupidity. Only a fool would think this could be that easily sorted out -- or that Ilaran would ever agree to leave the city on anyone's orders. But convincing Luamon that Ilaran was the real enemy and the mastermind of a conspiracy would prevent her thinking too much about his accusations. He could provide all the evidence he liked and Luamon at least would still never believe him even if everyone else did. Or so Haliran hoped, and so far her daughter's behaviour confirmed her hopes.

Plan:

Everything had gone to hell from the minute the pirate ship attacked. It came at them so fast that they hadn't time to mount a proper defence. Cannons were fired irregularly and conflicting orders were shouted. Within minutes the pirates knew they weren't attacking a merchant ship and began returning fire. They were much better-organised than the royal navy, and oh how that galled. When she got back to Tavgirid the first thing Ketevan planned to do was organise a complete overhaul of the navy. Adding a few magicians would be a good place to start.

Fade:

The cart had stopped outside a warehouse of some sort. Hariye could just about make out the words "Agriculture Supplies" on its faded sign. In front of him was the road the cart had come down. They were so close to the main town that he could see a bakery and a tailor's on the street beyond. Going that way would lead him back to the Peacekeepers. Behind him was the warehouse's yard. The creak of a winch and muffled voices in one of the buildings warned him that it wasn't safe to stay here. All that was left was the river.

Tagging @careful-pyromancer, @oh-no-another-idea, @frogqueenofmirkwood, @boldnightmarishreverbs, @btranscrolls, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D New words: magic, muddle, mayhem, minute and meet.

[meatormenta]

New chapter! Please read it, and comment to get a cute comment back and my eternal gratitude!

The Crimson Children - Chapter Five: The Cure for Tears are Magic Tricks (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1359088401-the-crimson-children-chapter-five-the-cure-for?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=meatormenta&wp_originator=Epmmt%2BqE7QtrAF%2Bssdy72BfvqQqoHfy2ajp%2BpDFPOn%2Fh3DaQ6AbL2dlcu0%2Bgf6l%2BvZLlfcfhKDEozlMiuLp4kldKAcYDNThCLNkb6j4gvaHRCS7dzQo246%2BIb0ScFbZL What are the depths of her obsession? How far is she willing to go for knowledge and love? A bone-chilling, twisted, and sexy romance about two people who have nothing left to lose, not even their own selves. UPDATED every week on SUNDAY! SYNOPSIS: After receiving a grim health diagnosis, a sheltered noble lady Valentina Zrinski decides to spend the last months of her life fulfilling her lifelong dream: proving that magic exists and becoming a real magician. With her only clue about anything magic-related being an obscure illusionist named Florian that she had seen as a child, she decides to find them by any means possible in search for answers. When she finally meets the one she's idolized since childhood, his duality and mysterious demeanor only leaves her wanting more. As both obsession and hatred grow between them, she has no time to spare for the unwanted romantic feelings muddling her mind and threatening to ruin everything she worked hard for.

[lanayrusystem]

MR. MISTOFFELEES AND RUM TUM TUGGER PROPAGANDA! [ For @catboy-showdown ] ✨️

I didn't expect to have the energy to make very good propaganda, but considering how sucked into it I've gotten, I was thankfully wrong!

⚠️ Warning for a long post with gifs and FLASHING LIGHTS below the cut! ⚠️

Let's start with Mr. Misteffelees, since he's already up for votes!

His song and the poem it gets its lyrics from are SO much fun. Like, the way they adapt the traits of a cat into this distinct magician character is so good.

The poem treats him like a masterful magician and illusionist for being sneaky, for moving about and moving things about without notice.

"He is quiet, he is small, he is black / from the ears to the tip of his tail / he can creep through the narrowest crack / he can walk on the narrowest rail"

"He can play any trick with a cork / Or a spoon and a bit of fish paste / If you look for a knife or a fork / And you think it was merely misplaced / You have seen it one moment / And then it is gone / But you find it next week / Lying out on the lawn"

These are the attributes of a quiet, nimble, and all-around skillful little cat! But the poem takes these traits and compares them to that of a magician, which is then expanded on in the musical. Mistoffelees uses his abilities to rescue the Jellicle Cats' leader, Old Deuteronomy, after he is kidnapped by the villainous Macavity.

Aid from Mr. Mistoffelees is suggested by Rum Tum Tugger, who's quite popular amongst cats. He's a bit of a rockstar, a flirt with a big ego and a flamboyant persona, with the female cats fawning over him during his song.

Tugger is another great example of a cat of a cat! The poem is about a troublesome, indecisive cat who always wants the exact thing he doesn't have, then wants the other thing once he's got that. Who likes to cause trouble just for fun.

The musical uses these traits to personify him as an immature, prideful cat who loves to show off and get attention, living it up in the moment and having FUN! He's curious, he's indecisive, he is who he is, and nothing can be done about it!

"If you set me on a mouse then I only want a rat / If you set me on a rat then I'd rather chase a mouse / The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat / And there isn't any need for me to shout it / For he will do as he do do / And there's no doing anything abou-a-wow-t it / The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast / My disobliging ways are a matter of habit"

"If you offer me cream, then I sniff and sneer / For I only like what I find for myself / So you'll catch me in it right up to my ears / If you put it away on the larder shelf"

"The Rum Tum Tugger, doesn't care for a cuddle / But I'll leap upon your lap in the middle of your sewing / For there's nothing I enjoy like a horrible muddle"

Now I'd like to finish setting the stage (hah) for his support of Mistoffelees. In some productions, such as the 1998 film of the show, another cat named Quaxo remarks that Tugger is "a terrible bore." He is the only cat in the number to notably NOT sing Tugger's praises. Quaxo, in certain productions, Quaxo IS Mr. Mistoffelees! Mr. Mistoffelees is his stage persona.

This makes Tugger's suggestion to seek his help all the more interesting, as not only has Mistoffelees called him a bore, but the song Mr. Mistoffelees, Tugger leads the cats in singing Mr. Mistoffelees's praises. The only other cat who Tugger praises through solo portions of a song, aside from himself, is Old Deuteronomy, who all of the cats think highly of (though Tugger's solo in that song highlights a softer side to him that really gets me when I listen to it)

Due to Rum Tum Tugger's praise for Mistoffelees and other aspects of their dynamic, many fans of the show interpret the two of their dynamic as being very gay. The giant rainbow fabric circling around Tugger in the 1998 film highlights this so beautifully.

I believe this is something some actors who have played them have acknowledged and embraced, or at least one of them. I don't remember where I found a quote about that, so take this part with a grain of salt.

So yeah! That's my propaganda for two gay cats from Cats the Musical! This musical holds a very special place in my heart, as it's the musical that got me into musical theatre! I remember being little and being absolutely mesmerized by the show, and Tugger and Mistoffelees's numbers were big highlights even then. Skimbleshanks the Railway cat was another, and it's my father's favorite number, so I plan to create propaganda for him too if I have the time and energy!

I doubt these three will make it far given who they're up against, but if I can get even one person to give Cats a chance (even if you don't end up liking it), I'll take it!!

For I will do as I do do, and there's no doing anything abou-a-wow-a-wow-t it! 🐈 ✨️ 🐈‍⬛️

(P.S.: If you've only seen the 2019 versions of these numbers, I HIGHLY suggest the 1998 versions! They're far better from what I've seen, especially Mr. Mistoffelees. But PLEASE be warned that there's a lot of flashing lights!)

[safestsephiroth]

hey multilingual people I respect the fuck out of you you’re basically magicians to me

I’ve heard it said that some languages are really close to other languages but not at all the same language - I believe an example I recall hearing is that german and polish are close enough that you can have a conversation knowing only one of the languages with someone in the other and kind of muddle your way through it if you really need to. I could have that wrong but I know I’ve heard there’s examples of this.

anyone know if there’s a similar thing for English? I’d like to have an idea how far the difference really, actually is from someone who’s experienced it. Is it the gap between speaking American VS British english? Is it like speaking English between starkly different accents? Is it more like english to German where some of the spelling is similar and there’s some things that sort-of can translate over but it takes a ton of effort to actually communicate anything outside of very basic concepts?

I don’t have the time in my life to learn an entire language just to experience this one thing and answer this question, so I come to you, hoping I tagged this post in a way that isn’t annoying: do you, reader, have an answer? I’m dying to hear, it’ll also be useful for a novel I’m writing :D