#all i wanted to do was try to do something totally greyscale

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt5)

Stan x reader / ford x reader

Summary: you are forced to question the life you've lived for 30 years.

Warning: none

☆anyone on my tagliatelle who isn't seeing this when I Tag them let me know ik I've been having problems tagging a few of ya'll

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~

"I'm feeling little over dressed for the occasion." You said stepping into the kitchen wearing one of your best outfits for the date Mable had prepared for you and Stanford.

Stanford stood in the kitchen with a smile. "Are you kidding!? Look at'cha, you're stunning!" Stanford said you smiled as he reached out a hand and guided you to the table, pulling out your seat before pushing you in and sitting down himself.

Mable insisted your first date be at home, Dipper and Soos dressed to a T in fancy waiter outfits the table set with the nicest/ least stained tablecloth in the house. And Mable in a chef hat.

"I promise to take out out somewhere real nice." Stanford whispered as Mable scooped whatever she had on the stove onto plates. You chuckled in response before Dipper and soos presented you with the meals.

Your eyes widened. You looked at Stanford mouthing a thank you for the real date dinner in advance. Stanford managed to get you away from Mable and Into the car for some real food.

"Most fancy places are closed for the night. The best I can offer is burgers." He said, driving down the quiet road. "I love Mable, but anything is better than that." You both laughed. Eventually, you had your food as he pulled up to the lake, and you both sat and ate. Talking Like two teenagers on a first date.

For the following weeks, you found your rooms were now shared, and mornings and evening were greeted with quick kisses. It was a new routine you found yourselves falling into. Mable noted that stan was "a lot less grunkler" since the change. Even when everything was crazy it still worked.

After everything in your lives had finally calmed down, after saving the shack, repairing it, a Zombie apocalypse. You found the house was silent with what felt like the first night of peaceful sleep.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n! I have been trying to reach you for a while!"

The voice that pulled you from your sleep boomed loud enough to startle you awake. You sat up in bed seeing the world around you was greyscaled Stanford fast asleep next to you and a familiar glowing freak above you.

His single eye staring down at you.

"Wh...will?..what are you doing here?"

You asked, sitting up as you did the world around, turned up right, causing you to slide straight out of bed into a chair. "Relax, we're in your dream, and the names BILL though I can't say I blame you, I was a complete and total secret but trust me y/n I know all about you."

You stared at him squinting, you where far to tired to understand what he was saying to you right now.

"What do you want?"

"A truce, I came to apologize for breaking into stans mind and almost killing shooting star and pine tree. And to warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Something big is coming something that will change your life! And I want you to know I'm on your side."

"On my side? Bill, I don't understand what you are talking about!"

"Trust me, you will, and when you do, you'll want a friend to be there for you, I'm offering myself for when everything you know changes. By the way, how well do you really know that stan?" He asked, pointing to Stanford asleep in bed.

"That stan?" You turned back, but as you did, you shot up in bed, clutching a piece of paper, breathing heavy. You looked down at the paper that looked like it had been torn out of something.

"Contact me, BFF!" Was scribbled across the top, and twoard the bottom was a cipher and some sort of incantation. You still fought to catch your breath. Your hand moved to shake Stanford awake, but your hand fell straight through the air and hit the empty space of your mattress.

"Stanford?"

That was a couple of weeks ago. You had folded up the page and tucked it under your mattress, trying to forget about the whole thing.

But every know and then you would get this hotrible feeling, you started to look at stanford weird and did your best to shake off the feeling. Luckily, Stanford had promised to take you out to dinner just the two of you. He told you he had something important to tell you.

"Aaahh, what if he asks you to marry him!?" Mable said excitedly from behind you as you had let her brush your hair. "I highly doubt that. You said clipping your last earring into place.

"Dipper! Doesn't y/n look beautiful! Grunkle stans going to ask her to marry him!" You rolled your eyes and looked at dippers worried face in the mirror.

"What's wrong?" You asked, turning around and crouching to his level. "Y/n There's something important I want to share with you I wanted to come to you first but I went against my better judgment and told stan first now i know you where the right choice."

"Of course you know you can tell me anything, dipper."

"OK you know about how strange and unusual gravity falls is." You nodded thinking to every monster, dinosaur, and ghost you had encountered with the twins even recalling some of the stuff from when you were young. Then the feeling set in again.

"Something big is coming something that will change your life as you know it!"

Rang out in your head. You wondered if what Dipper was about to tell you had anything to do with this. "Ah, c'mon dipdip can't this wait till after y/n and stan get home?" Mable asked, appearing from behind you now covered in makeup. Dipper rubbed his arm. "I guess..."

"Are you sure, Dipper? I can listen." He nodded. "OK, I'll see you in a few hours, ok?" You said ruffling his head. "Call if anything happens.

That was an hour ago already. You sat nervously at the restaurant Stanford promised to meet you at after he finished a few things up at the shack.

You tapped your glass and counted cars as they drove past the window you were sat by and looked at the gifted (more like lifted since it was a stolen antique store in portland) watch on your wrist and saw how late it was getting.

You sighed, resting your head on the table, watching the water droplets race down your glass. And you watched as the glass went up as the hair that fell around your face go cup as well. You pushed yourself up only to find yourself lifting out of the chair into the air before crashing back into your booth.

You paused only for a moment, trying to wrap your head around what that might have been, then ran to call the Pines family.

There was no answer for a long time you hung up and refilled several times before giving up. You grabbed your things and raced to the shack only being stopped by the same phenomenon as before.

Was this part of what Bill was trying to tell you about? Where are Stanford and the kids ok? So many thoughts raced through your head as you ran as fast as you could home.

"WHY would they call him unnamed!?"

"Unless stan isn't really stan"

The two kids looked up at the large painting of their great uncle on the wall behind them in horror.

"But there has to be some explanation as to why he would have all these fake ID'S and why that news paper says he's dead." Mable said trying to rationalize as Dipper continued to pull things from the box

"What about Y/n!? Is y/n even y/n!? What if she's in on this!?"

"In on what?" You asked pushing open the door.

The kids both screamed at your appearance.

"Are you kids ok!? Where is your grunkle and...what is all this?" You asked stepping further into the room to get a better look at what they had laid out on the floor in front of them.

In a different universe, Stanford Pines was an honest man. In a different universe, he didn't lie or cheat. He showed up to his date on time, there was no weird gravital anomalies interrupting your day.

You thought about this alternate reality as you stood over the fake IDs, news paper clipping, pass ports, the screen from the shack security cameras glow portraying a man you only assumed to be Stanford pines carrying gallons worth if toxic waste into the gift shop.

"What is this?"

You asked staring down at it afraid to move. "Is this why there are government vehicles surrounding this place?"

"You mean you don't know why stand has all this?" Dipper asked.

You shook your head.

In another universe, Stanford agreed to visit your family, even to just get away with you. In that same universe, he never changed, you where still hunting monsters and doing science stuff. In that same universe, you move out of the shack into a lovely home you share together, you teach together, and you live a beautiful and adventurous life. And he was still your Frodsy.

You didn't realize, but there was a ringing in your ear that tuned out the two children as they talked. All you could do is let time pass as your brain tried to work out yet another explanation.

Then Mable found the code.

"This isn't like any code I've ever seen before." Dipper said.

"The vending machine." You said quietly.

Your body had a mind of its own as you followed the twins to the vending machine in the giftshop.

"How well do you know that stan?"

This had to be what Bill meant by "that stan"

Without thinking, you typed the code into the vending machine as the kids distracted and fought off Soos, Without thinking...

"He swore he blocked this off..." You going down the stairs you hadn't seen in 30 years.

You felt as though you could throw up. Whe. You saw what was going on in the basement, the portal up and running, and with only a few moments to go. "So this is what's been causing problems... this is where he's been going!?" You half shout half say to the room.

You stare down at the desk seeing two familiar red journal. "The journal..." You and Dipper say at the same time.

"You know about these?" You ask in unison again.

"Your grunkle and I wrote them? How do you know about these?"

"When I said I wanted to tell you something." You watched Dipper pull a third journal from his vest.

"Grunkle stan wrote these?" Mable asked when you took the journal from dippers hands opening all of them to reveal the blueprints for the portal that sat in the room adjacent the one you stood in.

"What is it?" Dipper asked, looking at the pages. You glanced up at the timer and suddenly felt yourself fliat back into your body and realization kicked in "We have no time.We need to shut it off now. Kids stay here. Soos come help me. " You moved quickly. "We can help!"

"No! Please just stay safe! If your grunkle gets back, do NOT let him out of this control room!" You ordered them.

You and soos worked quickly enough to turn off the emergency kill switch just like you rememberd doing years ago. You felt a million emotions trickling inside you. Most of all, you felt angry that he would lie about keeping the portal, lie about working on it, and keep you out of it.

You scanned the room as the portal whipped your hair around you finally spotted it.

30 years never felt more wasted than it did in this very moment the moment it took you to walk from the key switch all the way to the shiny red button.

"Y/n Wait!" You frozen looking over at Stanford in the door way as the kids and now soos pushed him back.

"Don't touch that button, please!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

the kids couldn't hold him any longer, and he pushed past them running to meet you only to stop halfway, noticing you inch closer to the button as a defense. "Please! Just wait! Don't do anything! I can explain!" You watched Mable and Dipper get up. Dipper made eye contact with you as if he were trying to telepathically tell you something. It only took you spotting Mable trying to sneak around you for you to realize.

You stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger at Stanford. "After everything! You lied to me!? For how long!? When were you going to tell me? DONT YOU REMEMBER ALL THE HORRIBLE THINGS THIS THING HAS DONE!?" You asked poking him in the chest with a finger pushing him away from the button where Mable now stood.

"Yes! I wanted to tell you sooner! I was going to tell you today-"

"Today!? That's why you wanted to have dinner." You were getting off track. Before anyone could say anything else, your feet lifted off the ground, and you were in the air. "Now, Mable, press it now!" You heard Dipper yell.

"Mable, wait!" She froze as Stanford dove through the air for her as she gripped onto the pole.

Dipper soos and yourself took onto the task of catching him and pulling him away from her.

"30 YEARS OF NOTHING! STANFORD PINES! I CANT BELIEVE I WAISTED ALL THIS TIME JUST FOR YOU TO PULL A STUNT LIKE THIS!" He watched your angry tears roll down your cheek then up into the air around you.

"It wasnt waited, just hear me out all of you!" He plead as you held him against the wall. He stared you in the eyes a sad look met your furious gaze.

"I wanted to tell you all, your going to hear some bad stuff about me, some of it's true but believe me everything! Even this is for my family for a of you." He said the last part pointedly at you.

"Hit the button mable!" You yelled.

"Don't trust him!" Dipper followed up.

She looked around at everyone when her eyes locked with stanfords you knew what she was going to say

You quickly made a move to push it before her, but Stanford grabbed your hand and held you back. "I'm sorry! Trust me." You stared at him.

"I trust you grunkle stan!"

~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

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[sailorsplatoon]

New dedfour chapter incoming!!! This one's a little more mundane, but it's important to the storyline!

First (prologue)

Previous

Next

Read it on ao3!

(Fanfic under cut)

“I found my way into the Deepsea Metro because I was trying to find a club to DJ in. I guess my music eventually caught the attention of…” Acht’s voice trailed off and they waved their hand in the air, trying to indicate who they meant rather than say the actual name of the telephone that had controlled them, as if they might resurrect it from the dead. “It offered for me to be able to focus on nothing but my music. I was kind of doing that already, so I said yes. I can’t really remember much after that, but then I showed up here and I was myself again.” Four listened attentively. They’d been talking about what the two of them had been through for some time now. Neither were ready to leave 21F. Pearl, Marina, and Eight seemed content to stay as well.

“How do I know that I chose the right world? Like, there’s one side of me that’s screaming for order and one that’s screaming for chaos and I can’t tell which one is real.”

“There is no one that’s the right one, just different parts of your life. Being sanitized, or I guess greyscaled in your case, is just going to be a part of you now. It’s hard to accept that something bad and scary happened and that you’re never going to be the same afterwards, but if you can’t come to terms with that then you’re just stuck in this in between space. What you have to decide is which version of you is the one you want to be. It doesn’t matter which one is right or wrong, just that you’re happy.”

“Are you happy?”

“Oh that’s a big question. I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out together.” Acht stood up and offered Four their hand. They took it and Acht pulled them up. “Let’s get back to the elevator. We’ll keep climbing and you’ll be able to get more of your memories back.”

“Yeah!” Four smiled. They bared their teeth when they did, and their entire face seemed to light up. Acht felt their hearts thumping in their chest. That was new, most of the time their organs didn’t work at all. They didn’t even need to breathe, yet right now they felt short of breath. They could only hope Four didn’t notice their palms sweating. What was happening to them? Sanitization was a total loss of emotion, but now Acht felt the exact opposite— a rush of every feeling in the world all at once.

The two entered the elevator and Acht pressed the button for the next floor. Four and Pearl left moments later to begin the challenge. 

“Marina? Can I ask a question?” Acht typically wouldn’t go out on a whim like this, but they needed answers.

“Sure thing, Acht. What do you need?” Marina seemed excited. She knew whatever Acht needed to ask would be really interesting.

“How do you know you’re in love with Pearl?”

“Oh where do I begin! Being around Pearlie makes me feel better than I do when I’m with anyone else. It’s like I can really open up around her. Just thinking about her makes me blush. She always knows exactly how to make me happy and she cares about me so much. And when she sings it feels like my heart is singing in harmony with hers! And her eyes are some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. And when she sets off her Killer Wail…” Acht had slowly stopped listening. They should have known Marina would end up talking about Pearl endlessly. 

As if summoned by Marina’s gushing, Pearl and Four came back into the elevator.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” Pearl did a little flip as she entered the lift. Four followed close behind.

“You and how wonderful you are.” Marina smiled at the drone.

“Aww well if you’re gonna talk about me then I guess I have to talk about how wonderful you are.”

“Here we go again,” Acht thought as they pressed the button for 23F. Again, the elevator dinged and Pearl and Four left to complete the floor.

“Soooooo Acht! Why did you want to know how I know I love Pearl?” Marina asked.

“No reason. Just curious.” Acht tired to dodge the question. 

“No I think there’s a very good reason. Acht do you think you might be… ooh I’m too excited to say it. Eight, help me out here!” Marina squealed.

“Are you in love with Agent 4?” Eight grinned. He was a sucker for a good romance.

“Hey look I think Pearl and Four are almost done.” Acht looked out the elevator doors at the two. They were no where near done, but Acht needed something to distract Marina and Eight.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation so easily. We can pause for now, but this isn’t over,” Marina said before turning her attention to Pearl just as she set off a Killer Wail.

“That sounds like a threat.” 

“Maybe it is.” Eight flashed a mischievous smirk. It seemed like he was getting more comfortable around Acht. They weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Does it even matter if I like them or not?”

“Of course it matters! Acht, you have to tell them how you feel.” Marina emphasized each word.

“I haven’t felt anything in a long time, Marina. How do I know if the way that I’m defining this is even right?” Acht was very ready to be done with this conversation. But at the same time, the thought of telling Four they love them made Acht’s hearts thump even harder than they already were.

“You remember your brother, right? And your dad?” Marina pressed.

Acht was silent.

“It’s not the same kind of love, but you still love them. You know what love feels like, Acht. And I know that you don’t fall in love easily, you have to have the right person. I think Agent 4 is your right person.”

As Marina finished her sentence, Pearl and Four came back into the elevator.

“Welcome back you two.” Acht rushed their words.

“Four absolutely rocked that floor, they took down those Jelletons like it was nothing!” Pearl was enthusiastic. Now that Four had most of their personality back, they were way more fun to fight alongside. “Let’s head to the next floor and get them back out there, they’re on a roll!”

“Great, let’s get you to 24F.” Acht clicked the button and the elevator continued onward.

As Four set their chip into their palette, they jumped slightly in surprise. “Holy fuck!” they shouted before turning to face Eight and wrapping their arms around him. “I’m sorry I forgot about you. And I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

Eight hugged Four back, saying, “It’s okay. I missed you.” Acht couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how affectionate Four was towards him.

The two let go of each other and Four turned to Pearl and Marina. “I remember the both of you now too. I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Agent 4. What happened wasn’t your fault at all. If anything I should be the one apologizing.” Marina twisted the bottom hem of her jacket.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t try to murder all of you.”

“And that doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.”

“I don’t blame you at all.” Four gave a small, sad smile before looking over at Acht. “I still don’t—”

“You wouldn’t.” Acht interrupted. “We’ve never met before. I’m Acht. I know we’ve already done introductions, but you’re more you now.”

“Nice to meet you, Acht, I’m Four. And thank you for all your help earlier.”

Acht didn’t know what to say for a moment. Then they muttered, “You’re welcome.”

[physalian]

Can I complain about modern fantasy book titles and covers for a second?

I don’t like these books anyway. Why doesn’t matter, they have their audience and I’m not part of it. But eight whole books, and I read seven of them (not Assassin’s Blade) a few years ago now, and I could not tell you in what order they should be read if someone handed me a blind pile, or even what cover belongs to each book because they’re so painfully generic (and missing numbers on their spines).

Nor could I tell by the titles which are also painfully generic. Yeah they read like fantasy titles but there’s nothing distinct about them, they’re just fantasy buzzwords and they’re so vague that even Tower of Dawn leaves me vaguely recalling that kingdom with the giant birds, I think? Heir of Fire might be the romantic side quest that lasts an entire book, but that’s based more on my memory of the order of events than the title or cover would suggest.

Blank of X and Y she used for ACOTAR (which I did not read and know nothing about so I skipped them) is just so boring to me if the Mad Lib is nothing special. “Heir of Fire” could be a Game of Thrones fanfic for how unique and evocative the title is. A Court of Thorns and Roses literally stole the cadence of A Song of Ice and Fire but guess what?? Those aren't just nonsense words. Ice and Fire and how they're related are hugely thematic and relavent elements in those books. "Thorns and Roses" just ripped off a Poison song.

I assume these were the original covers since they’re not so manicured and actually have character. The titles are the same but the colors are so much bolder and the imagery isn’t a greyscale girl for 7 out of 8 titles. They’re distinct and memorable and while they’re still not evocative of the actual story, if I was a bigger fan of the books I’d probably have stronger associations. They do try. I have fuzzy memories coming back of EOS having the cool pirate with the map hands, KOA being the climactic battle book, QOS... might be the boring side quest with the dragons. This does not look like assembly line popcorn fantasy. This looks like it has heart, and an air of mystery. They draw you in and have you asking questions, they have you wanting to know more.

These books are, in my opinion, superior in many ways to anything SJM has written, but the covers? The exact same problem on steroids. And I only read four of them, there’s six total apparently. King’s Cage is the best title of the bunch. I know immediately from the title “that’s the one where the protagonist spent the whole book as a political prisoner in, you know, the king’s cage”.

But the covers, though they all share the same aesthetic and would look pretty on the book shelf, are absolutely devoid of any and all context within the book, save King's Cage. They’re all feminine crowns and tiaras, too. They could have at least given a man’s crown or at least something with harsher angles and thicker lines to evoke, idk, maybe the titular character the third book is about? It helps that the series (at one point) was only four books so it was less titles and ambiguous covers to juggle, but now there’s six so I guess that’s out the window.

Pretty, but purely window dressing. The best thing they have going for them is how distinctly minimalist they are that sets them apart from other fantasy.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about these books but the colors. Very much carrying on the PJO tradition of titles that actually fit the books and art to go along with it. There’s so much drama and movement to each one and they are, once again, scenes from each book, so many little details to look at. Festus was a huge part of TLH, then Percy's back in action, front and center in SON, then... uh, MOA... then Percy and Annabeth looking scared shitless in HOH and then... uh, BOO. Exists.

They all draw you in and I very much remember the cover drop for House of Hades and losing my mind over it. Much more face-focused than the reserved originals, much bolder, but still, mostly, Percy Jackson.

I looked this up on google images and couldn’t even read the titles there tiny at the bottom. The exact same color scheme for every single book. This is for the box set, I know that, so the spines all make one image when you line them up, but the spine doesn’t have to be the same image as the front cover.

That said, the cover images are still distinct and still hold true to the originals—showing actual elements from the books, like Blackjack and Polyphemus and the Labyrinth. Updated but a bit too sleek for my tastes (maybe that’s just nostalgia talking). The titles though, love the titles. At least they kept the series number on the covers (unlike TOG or RQ).

Now this. This here. These have everything. Bold, distinct colors on the spines, beautiful unique and very fantastical art, art that actually pertains to the book it’s about with an air of mystery every single time. You want to ask why there’s a kid floating in Long Island Sound, who that giant eye belongs to, who has that pegasus so frightened, what’s in the golden coffin, and… well the last one is just noire and I like it.

The titles, though. The. Titles. “Sea of Monsters” cannot in any way match up with the plot of the rest of the series. These covers are perfection.

Now I did not read these books, just saw the movies. These covers are dated, but there still wonderfully, charmingly whimsical, for an entire series about wizards and witches. The colors are distinct, the font choices reflect the vibes of each book, the art depicts the stories within the pages—Harry joining the Quidditch team, Fawkes coming to the rescue, Buckbeak, the mermaid egg thing and the other competitors in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the (I think?) prophecy room/Ministry of Magic, the Remembrall (I think??), and, you know, the last one is cool too. The style of the drawings are rather unique to Harry Potter. Harry also visibly ages across each one.

The titles themselves, like PJO (while predating PJO so setting the trend I’m aware) cannot be separated from their books. Order of the Phoenix? That’s the book about the Order of the Phoenix. Deathly Hallows is about, shocker, the Deathly Hallows.

Putting Twilight here at the bottom. I like these despite them being minimalist because, unlike every other cover on this list, they’re minimalist fantasy. Barely urban fantasy. The red and white motifs are evocative of the romance genre and vampire fiction and at least the covers of Twilight and Breaking Dawn do reference scenes in their books, with Edward catching the apple in the cafeteria and them playing chess on their honeymoon.

They also speak to a more adult, mature audience with the sleeker look. These are romance novels with vampires, *not* fantasy novels with romance. You see any of those covers among other adult romance in a bookstore and they’re going to catch your eye. The titles… eh. Not so much. Nothing to do with the story they just sounded pretty and evocative but this is romance, not fantasy, they’re supposed to be sensual and evocative and “Bella Swan and The Broody Vampire Boy” would not at all fit that vibe.

—

It’s not like these modern fantasy novels are devoid of creative terminology. I don’t like SJM at all but her books did have some really creative and wonderful moments in isolation. It’s like the publishers were afraid to be authentic and sincerely fantastical, so they went with something safe and clean and uninspired both in title and in art.

“Throne of Glass” means nothing to me and could be applicable to like, four of the books in that series. If I squint I can see it as a metaphor for the fragile state of the ruling house but there is quite literally glass everywhere so maybe it’s just one cool element—that should have then been on the cover—but like, the whole book is about the Assassin’s trial, right? So call it The Assassin’s Trial or Tournament of Assassins. You know. The plot of the book, not just one random ass element in the background.

Be authentically fantastical, or don't write fantasy.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Sorry you're still sick hope you get better! ❤️

I was wondering what would happen if Joanna!Lookalike!reader got greyscale like Shireen?

Thank you!💚

If Joanna!lookalike!Reader were to get greyscale similar to Shireen there would be an all out panic amongst the family. Cersei would be a complete mess. She’s terrified of what will become of her child, she’s furious that this ever happened to begin with especially to her beloved bby. Cersei would become even more overprotective and suffocating to the Reader, they need her more than ever and she has no plans of leaving them alone every again.

Joanna!lookalike!Reader would be kept away from everyone else and the outside world, only immediate family would be allowed to see and interact with them. Tywin would ensure that the Reader got the best possible treatment from the maesters. Cersei would have to be physically pried away from her child whenever the maesters do need to tend to the Reader. Similar to how Catelyn was when Bran was in his coma, Cersei would be by her child’s side every second possible. Even with the possibility of catching greyscale too, Cersei wouldn’t care. Joanna!lookalike!Reader would be of her utmost priority.

Given that the Reader probably contracted greyscale in a similar fashion to Shireen; through an object that was infected with it, Cersei and Tywin especially would no longer allow anything to be given to the Reader unless it was from their very own hands. Even if Jaime and Tyrion were to try and gift Joanna!lookalike!Reader something, Cersei and Tywin would immediately shut that shit down. Also, Cersei would totally accuse Tyrion of being the one to have given the Reader greyscale cause that’s just how she rolls.

There’s no doubt in my mind whether the Reader got greyscale completely accidentally or someone purposely infected them with it that Tywin and Cersei would wholeheartedly believe that it was a deliberate attack against their beloved Joanna!lookalike. They would have the Reader protected at all times. Cersei having multiple Kingsguards outside the Reader’s room at any and all times and Tywin commanding the Mountain to be attached to Joanna!lookalike’s hip no matter what.

I love the idea of Shireen hearing about what happened to Joanna!lookalike and wanting to reach out to them because of her own experience and the two being very close because of it. Especially given that the Reader would be locked away from the world for their own protection, a pen pal would be a breath of fresh air. But you can bet whatever letters the Reader does receive are thoroughly checked over before being given to them.

Also, Myrcella and Tommen would always be visiting their sibling. Tommen would often bring Sir Pounce to keep Joanna!lookalike company throughout the day. Myrcella would tell the Reader absolutely everything happening outside the walls of their bedchambers; from the slightest chance in weather to all the different people coming and going from King’s Landing.

Depending on his relationship with the Reader, Joffrey may also be a constant visitor of theirs. I think he would particularly love to show off and brag about the things he has knowledge of in regards to going on around the Red Keep that they don’t given being confined to their room. If he’s especially close to the Reader he would be a crying, snotty mess whenever he sees them. Throwing himself at them and complaining about missing them and wishing they could watch him go about his bratty ways outside of the confines of their room. He would also totally lie about how he actually behaves when he’s not in their company. As far as they know he’s a gentleman and goes out of his way to be the best boy, bullshit.

[erenaeoth]

oh please go on about the kazuya team nonsense. from a marketing perspective i get them partnering kazuya and nina together as they're the main guy and girl of og tekken, but it's a nightmare story-wise, almost as bad as nina working for heihachi. but at least with heihachi she was unwilling and fought til her last stand. with feng... i guess a replacement for bruce in his absence was due.

It's infuriating!

It shows a total lack of respect of Kazuya's character and the close relationships he's formed. He's known Anna and Bruce for decades, and they return to him. They know what he's like, they know all his deeply unpleasant aspects, and yet they continue to seek him out and he seeks them out in turn. There is a mutual understanding here that places Anna and Bruce in the category closest to something that you could call Kazuya's friends.

The 'oh, Nina will do', is insulting in this regard, as Kazuya has always enabled Anna's vengeance against Nina. Nina herself is amoral and would work for anyone who paid her, so I don't mind her taking up employ with the rival corporation she'd been against. The only justifiation for Kazuya taking her on is she de facto enters his employ as a Zaibatsu member when he takes over, and she's a useful enough asset that he needs her around since he's lost Anna. But still, he must know he can't trust her, she's tried to kill him countless times.

I don't even know what's happening with Feng. I suppose since he justifies right by might, so he might see eye-to-eye with Kazuya's philosophy, but Feng has always been one of those old school martial arts movie villains/antags, and that personal strength above all else approach is very different to what Kazuya's doing right now. It also doesn't fit with the anti-technology aspects we've had glimpses of in Feng's character. It's wild to me. I don't know why Kazuya in turn would suddenly want to start picking up lone fighters who have no experience in leading troops in warfare. He'd be better off blackmailing Eddy into working for him if Bruce truly isnt around, or even Josie since she was so keen to join Tekken Force and Kazuya presumably now leads the Zaibatsu's old forces.

I understand that probably Bruce won't make a return with all these new Muay Thai characters appearing, even though I think he's indispensible to the story, but why can't Anna have a lead role? With her vengeance renewed, she's going to want to kill Nina all the more, and there's nowhere for her to go but back to Kazuya. Her righteous fury being on Kazuya's side could have continued to lend him that greyscale aspect of his character, and enhanced that side that he, Bruce, and Anna have always shared - of being wronged children, looking out for themselves and trying to make their own justice.

It's very annoying and places Kazuya more easily into the evil villain category.

[dawns-beauty]

Is it very difficult to make racemenu overlays? I've always wanted Betterbecause's Phenotypes scars as an overlay so I can mix and match them. I can tell by looking at the textures scars are different then warpaint but I think I would be ok if they were a little more flat if I could still have them. I'm not super comfortable with the CK, I have used it a few times, but if it was relatively simple I could try doing it myself. You seem to be pretty good with character design and overlays like that so I figured you would have an idea of the difficulty.

It's not too bad, the part that I usually stumble on is that compiling is pretty finicky for me.

For your specific situation, though, I would recommend something different.

I can't seem to find the mod you mention, so I am not totally sure of the best course of action.

If they're like regular scars (selectable in the Scars slider) I would look into patching them to be used with More Scars, which gives you 3 scar sliders instead of one, allowing for mixing and matching (and keeping your normal map.) The easiest way is probably to use the Northborn extension and just rename your scar files (diffuse and normals) to replace the Northborn textures. If that makes sense?

If they're under Complexions, you can probably use an art program of your choice to try to combine the diffuse maps of each and then the normal maps separately, and simply replace a complexion (you can also just do this for scar diffuses/normals.)

To make a scar an overlay means you will lose the normal map and the depth that gives it. See Skin Features Overlays for an idea of how scars will look.

Typically, with overlays the part you want to show up is white/light greyscale on a black background, so you would have to edit the color.

This is the two part tutorial I typically follow, though in Part 2 I don't compile the scripts at the start because of this forum post. Additionally, for the final part where you compile your script I usually end up using PCA instead of the CK because my compile fails. It's the biggest pain in the neck.

OPTIONALLY, if you don't want to publish or w/e, you could take your greyscales scars and rename the textures to replace some other overlay mod's textures, so you don't have to touch scripting at all! I do this when I'm making a one-time texture and am feeling lazy lol

Sorry, that was a lot, I hope something there helps? If you want you can send me the link to the scar mod and maybe I can get a better idea of what to tell you to do.

[jackalsinthekitchen]

a wizard/a true star is fifty

some folks was even higher than me – but probably not too many

“It isn’t supposed to be for having major epiphanies. It’s supposed to be for looking at colorful shit.”

I still recall how intensely I resisted my sister’s advice – seldom the choicest instinct. She was my sitter, uniquely predisposed as she was and is to equanimity and sweetness. Of the two of us, I tend to be the handful, and she has enough patience and self-control for both of us – sometimes I wonder if I left mine behind in the womb for her. Anyway, she’d brought two tabs of LSD, a gift from a boy she lived with who shared her name, a former child prodigy violinist who’d completed his descent into defiant chaos. Drug-dealing was a part of this, and it’s another testament to my sis that she only ever did a few bumps of coke, in such proximity to his tundra of a stash. I’d have ended up at the “being murdered for pinching” part of the process in weeks, and I don’t even like cocaine – though that’s mostly because I’ve never tried it, having somehow sustained a rule to avoid anything that could kill me.

She’d had her first experience with acid that summer, nearly five decades after the of-love one, and neither of us could say if the stuff in our possession shared one molecule of ‘60s acid’s chemistry – the stuff that woke the Beatles up, and spurred them in 1967 to blur the lines between rock ‘n’ roll and some wondrous something else. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was the first album to come clad in a self-consciously artistic garb: the world’s most famous band disguised in mustaches and multicolored marching band outfits, the unwieldy misdirect of a title printed on a bass drum and BEATLES spelled out in flowers. In books they loved (Through the Looking Glass et al.), Lennon & co. had learned how to translate the beguiling mystery of dreams into text. For three LPs, climaxing with Pepper, they’d more or less invented the music for it, too.

That kicked off a little epoch of people trying to do the same – my favorite in pop history. Every sound was new, all prior rules relaxed as fresh ones were being fashioned. The “rock” music of that ’67-‘74 era – a wild mass art project which for me includes Stevie Wonder and Joni Mitchell’s tonal palettes – eludes description. Music itself is remarkably emotional, endlessly communicative beyond the purely verbal. It’s a mysterious, potent substance, these infinite combinations of waves. Short of a more inventive image, Pepper and its descendants were radiant splashes of color bleeding through greyscale lines, indelibly staining blank canvas with unprecedented tints and shades. Even decades ago, people tried to wave their hands through that pink smoke with complaints about Western chauvinism and “high art” gentrification. But to me, it’s surrealism + genderfluidity + pure melodic rapture. You say you want a revolution?

Drugs were the primary engine of a lot of this effort. But by the mid-‘70s, which were a long time ago, even the best art-rock sounded washed out – overfed and overfunded. The hippies’ sweet dreams had barely weathered a dark night of the soul in full swing just a year after they’d hit full flower. But even without a ‘68 to bring everybody down, the fact remains – few dreams survive daybreak. And the waking dreams drugs deliver do usually crash into some kind of foggy hangover, “that elusive feeling” alcoholics talk about reliably dragging them closer to the gates of insanity or death. As for me, I first tried a drug – marijuana – just in time for my 21st birthday, after a youth spent getting high on people and rarely subduing my lows. It did feel like a waking dream – and as with any other addict, that enchantment came to haunt me. No common sense could keep my cat-curiosity from pulling me toward a second try.

Just a few years later, the obsession was total. My rock bottom was still a long way down, but anytime I could get my hands out of my empty pockets and on something which promised a buzz – an escape from reality’s perpetual itch and unrelenting anxiety – I made sure I did. I invited myself anywhere that held the promise of a shared smoke, and when no such invitation/intrusion was available, I credit-carded locked doors and quietly opened drawers minutes before the absent party returned. On a particularly audacious occasion, I found my way through a window I’d only hoped would be so easy to jigger open on the ride over. So often is marijuana insisted to be non-addictive, yet I went to insane lengths to disprove this, with no intention of sharing the data – the hiding, a product of the shame, is a huge part of addiction. I wasted time dreamin’ of the myth of California sobriety, but I was as much a mess as anyone stuck in their cups.

The accumulation of highs puts you sorely in the red on time and money you’ll never get back, and distances you from the longer-lasting highs you could, and ought to, build toward. But along with peacing (when not freaking) you out, drugs might, at their friendliest, convince you that you can see for miles and miles and miles. Oh yeah. What is it about, say, a THC high? It illuminates and then softens the barriers between you and the ether, that magical otherworld glimpsed in dazzling flashes but so elusive, drowned out by reality (or is it society?)’s dutiful buzzkill. It really connects you with something that does feel cosmic or spiritual or otherwise enlightening, and it can lead to breathtaking external or internal connections, or – if you happen to be an artist – invaluable arrangements of elements not otherwise discoverable. At its most benevolent, it can make artists of us all. But is the art you make true enough to be worth it, when it’s not you creating – it’s you through some disorienting filter?

Why I’d waste the actual prime of my life on all those fuzzed-out “highs” speaks to questions I’ve yet to answer. Other than being a lifelong self-sabotager, there’s no solid explanation available. Some of the motivation, though, lies in that first night I ever tried LSD. My quest for profound realizations was thwarted by a sudden inability to properly complete sentences. This did not ease my passage to becalmed bliss, and eventually my sister accepted that while I would probably prevent myself from enjoying/embracing the experience, I also wouldn’t die. She left, but it’s OK. She reclaimed her night, and I reclaimed my sanity (such as it was) by discovering how much nicer Can’s “Future Days” and Parliament’s “Flash Light” suddenly felt – my sister’s advice in vivid action.

I once read a quote about a researcher of some kind discussing two test groups of scientists, boldly exploring the frontier of recreationally ingesting mind-altering substances (for science). It was something about the marijuana users sitting around discussing life’s most profound questions, and the LSD users sticking their fingers in their bellybuttons. My only worthwhile experiences on LSD the three or four stomach-churning times I tried it that summer were musical. This translated to marijuana, which at least did me the favor of not disabling communication (and by extension, creativity). But in general, I was not asking profound questions while on weed – I’d just hole up and let my mind wander, with music becoming my most irresistible companion.

Frankly, the harmonic and structural advancements THC spurred in music I wrote were indispensable – bar its inconvenient side-effect of keeping me from finishing 80% of my ideas. The music I replaced these incomplete masterpieces with was an endless stream of Spotify playlists, glutted with mostly “art rock” from mostly the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Much of it was designed for something like weed – you have no reason to play a Yes album more than once otherwise. I distracted myself from the fact that I was merely distracting myself with so much art whose sole purpose was to capture the whims of its perpetrators’ wasted minds. Still: in a big-beat, multi-track format, that approach can yield some real fun. Just marvel at the complete works of the second-chiefest (after sex) pleasure of my brief LSD patch, Jimi Hendrix, who died chasing his extraplanetary visions, but sure sounded dynamite giving them life.

Fifty years ago, Todd Rundgren, who like a lot of painfully white folks loved Jimi Hendrix, had ended up on the same astral plane Jimi crashed in. Having avoided drugs for ages, the better to maintain his uptight aloofness (and develop those acrobatic arrangements, and produce like nine other albums a year), by 1973, he was in a position to spend a lot of time and money getting audibly smacked sideways by substances. The hardest thing he’d taken before had been Ritalin, which resulted in the double-disc talent tour Something/Anything. But after disliking his first taste of psychedelics (DMT, the one where you have that fleeting field trip to a land of elves), Todd fell headfirst into his own head. What he saw made him hear beautiful music only he was capable of concretizing.

“I became more aware [through psychedelic drug use] of what music and sound were like in my internal environment, and how different that was from the music I had been making,” Todd told Mike Myers’ brother, who proved himself an excellent reporter (and très enthusiastic fan) for a 2010 biography. “My new challenge was to try to map, as directly as I could, the various kinds of chaotic musical element[s] in my head.” The artist began to externalize these mad visions by building himself a studio, and enlisting fellow musical utopians in the reification of his own flights of fancy. The resultant A Wizard/A True Star was an hour long – a two-LP length. But Rundgren crammed it onto one record, risking the loss in fidelity for his magnum opus in order to honor its unbroken sides. Wizard is the white Electric Ladyland: a production fantasia only a talent as hyperactive/producer as unkempt as Todd could’ve fashioned.

The standard for headphone music fifty years ago was the clean dreariness of Dark Side of the Moon, the first rock LP where all technological shortfall has been eliminated from the recording process. But Rundgren’s facile pop confections reliably share two characteristics – impudence and impatience. At his best, these qualities are more temperate – don’t let Mark David Chapman scare you off the brilliant (if deceptively deep) Ballad of Todd Rundgren. Yet a lot of times Todd’s natural insolence is what makes him fun – makes him punk, albeit a punk who’d never give up pop. He remains the corniest musician ever to secure Patti Smith’s stamp of approval (Blue Öyster Cult are close), but even she’s ignited by his messy genius. “Clever as a fox, my spirit lights,” she says in a poem Wizard included. “Spirit laughing free as water, in a ring of fire, with its hair aflame.” Todd had dyed his hair three neon colors that season.

Few records are as nice a listen high as Wizard – which inevitably means it loses a little luster when you’re not, its flaws magnified in the first rays of the new rising sun. It is the surest proof of one sad principle: the music intensifies the wonder of the drugs, but the drugs don’t deepen the meaning of the music. In any case, Wizard pulls out all the trippy tricks beautifully at its beginning. It kicks off with a fractalized tone dancing from one corner of your brain to another. Then the simulated sound of a rocket’s billowing plumes, then a slurp up to the stars on some synthesizer setting, and finally, a resonant keyboard ostinato Pete Townsend might give his sad-eyed nod to. It’s as if AI were told to synthesize “far out, man!” into a piece of music, and AI had a trace of wit (yet). It spills into a wonderful pop song, one which actualizes the automatic agape of psychedelic euphoria. “International Feel”’s pretty chord sequence that helps spruce up its words, which are only not nonsense under certain conditions.

(There is more) international feel

(And there’s more) interplanetary deals

(Still there’s more) interstellar appeal

(Still there’s more) universal ideal

“I only want to see if you’ll give up on me,” he sings. Decades later, he bragged during a commencement speech about how Wizard halved his audience, touting it as an example of the valiance of following your own nose. Not terrible advice for a graduating class – but an arguable misreading of what his endeavor represented. Wizard was designed as mass outreach, but when Todd turned on, it turned people off. Alienation is no virtue, and it’s definitely no way to establish a utopia. The fact is, so many drug users imprisoning themselves in their own heads think the things they’re conjuring up in there would set the entire world free – but good luck getting a coherent message across when you’ve returned to Earth. So the fun of this record is in its self-referential games, not its cockeyed aperçus, a technicolor extrapolation of Something/Anything’s cute “sounds of the studio” interlude. “Just as surely as I’m in your ears”, he winks at you at one point, and I can never for the life of me remember the second half of that thought.

After “International Feel”, Todd drifts into a number from the Mary Martin Peter Pan before the primary fear of a “head trip” hits – that the good part will fade soon (better get more!). “Tic, Tic, Tic (It Wears Off)” takes you on a cheerful march through the LP’s main style – intricately layered synthesizer doodles, unless Todd is picking up his guitar and brontosauring around in the manner of the most indulgent Roy Wood. It resembles Something/Anything’s “Breathless”, though wiggier and more whimsical, which is welcome. At its most arbitrary, Wizard feels like nothing more than exercises in overdubbing – but if you’re in an altered mindstate, everything is illuminated. He then crashes into a song that bellows “WHAT YOU NEED IS YOUR HEAD”, even as the artiste sounds like he’s lost his. The album is usually either a kaleidoscopic confluence of alluring cadences, or a lot of weird shit piling up around you.

It doesn’t puncture the dreamlike aura, but “You Need Your Head” unleashes Todd’s mean streak, which no magnitude of good vibrations can subdue. For a willow of a wunderkind, at his worst, Todd was a notorious asshole. Though the bar was low enough to reach, the vitriolic “Rock ‘n’ Roll Pussy” is a much weaker song than the contemporary work of its target, John Lennon. Of all those impotent dogfight insults, the word “pussy” – so sensual in its other sense – is especially noxious. Lennon was a far gentler spirit than Rundgren, but Rundgren has the advantage of never dealing anything but verbal blows. “Pussy” is commendable for calling this out, but when Rundgren took it farther in offhand comments, he got his ass handed to him, in the finest thing Lennon wrote in 1974.

After that, Rundgren layers himself pretending to be dogs laughing for another transitional minute – it’s annoying, but not ineffective, especially if you’re in that tense interval every high guarantees. This whole sequence of vignettes slides by so fast, and is so disorienting and unprecedented, that it can be a rush in context. But as I write about it, the meaner-spirited it all feels. This is especially true of the supercute but indefensible “You Don’t Have to Camp Around”, on which Todd (who somewhere on side B sings “my voice is so high, you would think I was gay”) confers upon himself the authority to call out the queer male community’s “mincy lisping” as some kind of pose. Wilde might smirk at the “tssss-ts-ts-tssss” vocal percussion, but mostly, it's typical ‘70s hate humor. The permission it thinks it gives for gay men to liberate themselves from already liberated behavior is a condescension that could only spew forth from a giant fucking dick.

Still, it’s in keeping with the concept, which is apt for a drug album: Whatever Just Occurred to Todd, verbally and musically. Yet another arch instrumental (“Flamingo”, get it?) blends into side A’s captivating, perplexing centerpiece, “Zen Archer”. It seems bent on being a battle hymn for Martians, and the lyrics scrape at significance without ever getting there. But as it gives way to a swirl of harmonies (a Rundgren specialty, that callow, childish voice going all angelic in a choir of itself), and as those simulated arrows soar between your ears, you’re under the wizard’s spell, and buying everything the true star is selling. On a song like this, the endless sardonics lighten a heavier tread – Todd is too sarcastic not to palliate self-serious caprices such as this.

Still there’s more. Todd impersonates a nightmare oompah band on “Just Another Onionhead”, another set of words the drugs told him were profound enough to write down (“the falling of the hare“, “prime cut of baby’s butt”). It switches on a dime to “Da Da Dali”, an ersatz Al Jolson croon over an atomized jumble of deliberately fucked-up Tin Pan Alley chords. Then comes “When the Shit Hits the Fans; Sunset Blvd.”, another blast of macho-rock – as Todd sings elsewhere, “I play my guitar in such a man-cock way”, and this proves it again. One of the ways Wizard best flatters a high is how you can let your mind wander about fifteen minutes in and you won’t miss anything. But when it all surges back into “International Feel”’s glorious refrain, well. You feel like you’ve really been somewhere.

As I inferred earlier in this piece, I didn’t want to take drugs to turn my mind off. Todd has spoken of the same objective. Trouble is, when you take drugs, you’re not necessarily likely to strengthen your mind. Indeed, you’re ceding its control to an occupier that can’t think, but sure has some ideas about how you should be doing it. Even a few years into my abuse of weed, I recognized that what I appreciated about it was uncomfortably close to one of alcohol’s many dubious assets: the parameters of its impairment momentarily strengthened a focus. (Being a millennial means having ADHD – like Todd – so I shudder to imagine how many problems of mine a first sniff of cocaine might appear to solve.) It’s just an illusion, and all its confusion will catch up to you sooner or later. Some of Wizard’s players crowed to Paul Myers about how nice the muddled-ethereal chords are for “Sometimes I Just Don’t Know What to Feel”, but the lyrics prove its clearest thought is the titular one. It vies for incisive, but ambles toward aimless.

That song is an uncertainty manifesto: a self-negating oxymoron. But the parts that aren’t dour or overambitious are really gorgeous, and the rest of side B is a string of some of the nicest pearls ever to form in an acid-addled noggin. “Does Anybody Love You” boasts a master melodist’s most effervescent melody, and the auteur’s chirping vocal improves one more unaccountably bitchy lyric, knocking a mirror-gazing narcissist of the female persuasion. (He was with Bebe Buell at the time, a person who’s made a career of her own promiscuity, and who inspired another talented sexist, Elvis Costello, to pen his most vituperative tunes.) It's a testament to Todd’s equal-opportunity nastiness that he manages to sling mud at the vain and the self-disgusted (“love between the ugly is the most beautiful love of all”) in the same two-stanza track; it’s a testament to his voracious taste for sweeter melodies that he cloaks this dagger in one of the sweetest.

He then spares us further transitional crotchets by borrowing some of the most beautiful melodies of all. Like so many Philly musicians, pop-soul was in Todd’s blood. To kick off the medley in this side’s middle, he chooses one exquisite hit each from the genre’s greatest innovators, Curtis Mayfield (the Impressions’ “I’m So Proud”) and Smokey Robinson (the Miracles’ “Ooh Baby Baby”). The choices are astute – two of the dreamiest songs by two of the dreamiest writers, who shared a gift for sifting disarming emotion out of the harmonic atmosphere. The songs’ mutual tone is so gentle and compassionate that the long break they offer from Todd’s uncut ego dissolves any bad taste he’s left. I wish he’d gone with Chairmen of the Board’s “Give Me Just a Little More Time” or the Five Stairsteps’ “O-o-h Child” over the Delfonics’ “La La Means I Love You” for his third, but his bratty delivery adds an odd resonance to its innocence, and he would’ve ruined those other, better songs anyway. And though his 7/4 rendition of “Cool Jerk”, the medley’s conclusion, is another burst of buzzy racket, for once, the music justifies the discord.

After the dumb “Hungry for Love” – which always flies by even though it technically hangs around for two minutes too long – come two cuts, one feather-soft and one diamond-hard, which pull off the unusual trick of partially justifying their own toxic politics. “I Don’t Want to Tie You Down” is the most vulnerable Todd ever let himself be in front of a microphone, a rare concession that the double standard men impose on liberated women (a still-fresh concept in 1973!) is bullshit. As I-fucked-up songs go, it’s a blue valentine. “It gives my life a bit more meaning to feel in love with you,” Todd admits, letting his codependency show. But he sees this shaky foundation, and a glimmer of saving-grace interdependence: “The balance of our minds together, the perfect give and take/for me to let my love possess you, that would be my worst mistake”. Only once does he compulsively mar his own perfect picture, cracking his paper thin voice as he leans into the one stupid line he allows: “oh JEsus/I don’t want to nail you down.”

Then there’s the striking “Is It My Name”. An ardent, searing plea to some ladyperson who doesn’t want to deal with Todd’s bullshit, there’s plenty of it to step in throughout the lyric – not just the gay voice-“man-cock” couplet, but the indecipherable chorus itself. Is Todd’s hypothesis that she doesn’t want to go out with him because he’s too famous (haha), or because he has one of the unsexiest (Rundgren) names (Todd Rundgren) in rock ‘n’ roll history? And does he seriously not know that’s not it? But the opening line is “there is cause and effect/there’s a reason I’m so erect”, and it’s belted with such openhearted urgency, the crotch-rock of it all is dispelled in the sheer candor. Its extended coda is a clunky blizzard, but if your mind was blurry to begin with, this feels like a real climax. Then he closes out with five flawless minutes: “Just One Victory”, as celestially empowering an anthem as was ever divinely dictated to a nerdy white pseud.

I spent ten years high on not just weed but the same small chunk of pop history. I eroded my resolve against the hippie era’s long-disproven false promises with a dangerous cocktail: records, mixed with stronger and less pure intoxicants than the stuff they had back then. A horribly destructive bout of alcoholism – that habit is a whole year kicked – pulled me away from pot for a hot minute. But I still tricked myself into thinking that being a clean half century away from 1973 meant I should drown myself in its music, which, barring some anomalies, was either painfully pillowy or deliriously droogy. That year was peak bleak ‘60s hangover, and while I’m glad coke and quaaludes aren’t all the rage anymore, I gobbled enough space candy to simulate each, tearing myself off my own yellow brick road. And I frequently returned to “International Feel”, giving into the urge to tickle my brain with the same distressingly impermanent hour on trips that got me precisely nowhere.

I don’t know what Todd and I were looking for – escape, I suppose, a version of consciousness featuring frills only mirages can provide. In any case, he never got where he was trying to go either – his next three records, Todd, Todd Rundgren’s Utopia and Initiation,took unchecked psychedelic doodling well beyond the humanly tolerable. Because Todd’s best work (productions for other artists aside) was behind him by 1973, I’d forgotten how self-parodic and sanctimonious so much of his later work could be, even after he’d rediscovered form’s function. He was so talented, I have a permanent soft spot for him, and I was licking my lips reading the effusive descriptions of heavenly harmonies on the much later Nearly Human’s “The Waiting Game”, which Todd claims he dreamed. Put it on and you hear ‘80s hell. Rundgren is too sharp today to suspect he stayed stoned, but I wonder how unblown a mind can become. The loss of whatever he traded away was a fatal one.

I’ll never forget the soul-settling luminosity of the opening notes to Jimi’s “Burning of the Midnight Lamp” as I enjoyed them coming down from a no-fun high (so many of them are no-fun highs), while laying back in my neighborhood pool after dark. But the reality is, you don’t need any substances to really dig Electric Ladyland – it gets you there anyway. Wizard is the ultimate drug LP; drop the 3-D glasses, and watch its dimensions flatten. And much of the last decade’s pop, be it trap or the sugary soundscapes of Charli XCX (who sampled Todd on an early mixtape), does the waking dream thing better. As more earthbound sounds seep onto the charts again, I uneasily realize that much of what I’ve been up to all this time is diluting one high with another one. The best music will transport you all by itself. To insist on conjuring up clouds to admire it through is to pull a curtain between you and the art – and even worse, you and the life the art is there to affirm.

[analtyranny]

let’s play gore screaming show, part 9: saito from class 3

anyway, it's another totally normal morning at kyoji's--

......aaand here's our pantsless cousin

(this was before the days of pro-rice propaganda, you see)

hey look, it's our old pal The Red One she's got some kind of handouts from school and needs yamiko's, our guardian's, signature. weird that a legal adult like kyoji would need that, huh? does he even need a guardian? how peculiar!

yamiko to the rescue, as always...oh shit, right, she was wanting to meet akane

HIMEKO ONEE-CHAN... kyoji tries to warn akane that yamiko hates that name but she does not listen and keeps saying it. repeatedly.

doesn't catch on quick, does she

so yeah she FINALLY gets the name right, eventually, and explains why she's here. yamiko assumed akane was here to wake kyoji up

but not anymore... not since...that day...

then they start going on about embarrassing shit kyoji did as a kid, like "god remember when he was still half-asleep and called you mom" "omggg i do, that was cringe af lolol"

at least akane's acting more like her old self again

anyway, back to school

...oh, this might be the same street office lady was going down kyoji gets the sense there's more people around than usual, but it's probably nothing. not like there's a CRIME SCENE nearby or anything

he complains about them talking about his childhood, because "it wasn’t all good memories" (briefly shows a zoomed in, greyscale, grainy version of the [REDACTED] cg)

not exactly something he can just ask her

anyway now she’s mad about him complaining and she’s all “FINE maybe i’ll just NEVER come over EVER AGAIN”

Don't Be An Asshole is always a great choice. shockingly this gets us a point with akane

i've yet to see any green hearts from our choices but maybe we'll unlock that later (this IS one of those games where certain routes aren't available on your first run) shinta's all "omg you came to school with kazuyagi, is she your giiirlfriiiiend"

and then this happens.

😳

so then the srs bsns bgm starts playing and we find out there's no homeroom today and there's a staff meeting during first period. i wonder why that could be.......

SAITO? 

FROM CLASS 3???

so saito from class 3's older sister has gone missing. presumably the office lady. i swear, this family has the worst luck

oh yeah, he got interrupted again yesterday by anime girl three stooges. it sure is taking a long time for him to finish this story. it reminds me of whenever i try to tell dad some funny anecdote but it takes 10 minutes because he keeps interrupting/changing the subject "so i was hanging out with the cat the other day--" who the fuck thinks that's a full story? my dad, that's who

that's either clown boy or the gun ossan from the OP, the latter of whom we WILL fuck so we talk about it a bit and shinta's finally about to continue where he left off. apparently there was something particularly strange about how the elementary schooler disappeared?

GOD DAMMIT

......oh, they gave mai different bread. i'd say that's a nice detail but mostly i wish these three would fuck off

so a "deputy teacher" comes in and yells at us for not doing study hall. we are NEVER gonna hear the rest of shinta's story, are we

(update from The Future: almost done w/ kiika’s route and no, we are not)

shinta route 😳

findom route 😳

shinta's like No Fucking Thanks and gets back to work. kyoji is bored, bringing us to our next choice:

[tooruluv]

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,855

warnings/notes: i would like to say that the "soulmate au but only when you're actually in love" thing is not my idea! i don't know who's idea it was, and i'm sure it was created by several people, but i just wanted to tell you all that i wish i was that creative but, unfortunately, i am not. so! i wanted to give credit where credit is do! moving on to the fic! <3 enjoy, loves

tag list: @vhskenma​ @elianetsantana​ @mini-eggs-reads​

| next

masterlist

“ you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you ” - can’t take my eyes off of you, frankie vallie

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Kei Tsukishima did not believe in falling in love. Sure, he believed in loving things, but being in love sounded absolutely ridiculous. The entire basis of love, relationships… it just never made any sense to him.

You, on the other hand, very well might have your heart placed on your sleeve. You had a million crushes, a constant new person in your focus. The thing was, you had never seen color.

Color only came to those who fell in love. Through those crushes, through those varying false relationships and games of spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven, you had never actually fallen in love.

It was becoming frustrating.

While Tsukishima was perfectly content in living in a world without love, in the same greyscale life he had always known, while you were drowning trying to find someone to hang onto.

What strange friends you were.

Well, not friends, per say. But acquaintances for sure. A comfortable relationship between the two of you full of eye contact, your flirtations, and his constant coming into your coffee shop.

If we had to name a beginning, it started the first week of the summer.

You were working at a coffee shop, this little place called Blu. It was a simple corner shop, squished in between two other buildings. You just wanted a summer job to pass by time and get some money, nothing permanent.

Until, one day a tall boy with glasses walked into the place.

He looked bored out of his mind as his eyes scanned the menu above your head. He didn’t say anything when you greeted him (“Welcome to Blu! What can I get for you today?” in your best customer service voice), nor did he say anything when you handed him his coffee. He only spoke to you once, a monotone “I’ll take a black coffee” when he ordered.

You were absolutely infatuated.

One, because who orders a plain black coffee in the middle of the summer? And two, he was cute.

He had to be your age, you decided. Though most kids your age would never get a plain black coffee, and he was pretty tall, he had the youth you did. You just knew.

“Kei!” you called for his order. He didn’t even look into your eyes.

This was a repeat occurrence throughout the rest of the summer, every morning. Sometimes he would say something more, like add a little “Hello.” before ordering. Or he would steal glances at you, and there would be a staring contest for a moment or two.

Occasionally, he even muttered “thank you” when you handed him the mug. Call it what you want, but you called it “progress”.

One particular morning, he was dressed up. You didn’t know what for, you didn’t know much about him as it were, and all you could do was admire. He was stunning in a dark suit, the greyscale doing nothing but bring out how handsome he looked in it.

“Well, don’t you look ravishing today?” You flirted, already moving to get his black coffee. “The usual?”

He gave a small nod, not reacting to your compliment. He had his hands in his pockets, and a dangly earring in one ear.

“Well, here you go.” You handed him the mug. “One plain black coffee for Kei. Don’t spill it on yourself.”

“I would never.” He said. His voice was still monotone, but you caught it. A small quip in the corner of his lip. You almost got him to smile.

However, most mornings it was the same thing. He would come in, order a black coffee for “Kei”, and sit near the window and scroll through his phone through sips. You would watch as the sun created lighter greys along his skin and hair, you would watch as the glare gleamed off of his glasses.

Oh, how you wished you could see the color of his hair.

And, one day, you did.

It was a usual summer day. Autumn was approaching fast, so cool wind started to battle against the sun. But he came in nonetheless; Kei, with his black coffee. Except, this time was different.

“Welcome back, stranger.” You greeted, smiling as bright as you could. You didn’t even ask him what he wanted, you were already getting the black coffee ready behind the counter.

“I’ll take a black coffee.” he said, monotone and normal.

But, it wasn’t normal, not even the slightest bit. Because when you looked up to hand him his coffee, you were met with an array of colors.

You had to blink a few times, just to make sure that you were seeing what you were seeing. The colors were faded, newly forming, but they were still very much there. He had light yellow hair. No. “Blonde” was the word you were looking for.

He was frozen too, just standing there. But then you realized that you were just staring, his coffee in your hands. He must’ve thought you were insane.

“Kei, can I ask you something?” you asked, not wanting to hand him his drink yet. You weren’t one to let your questions go unanswered.

For a moment, he blinked at you. He definitely had to think you were insane. “What?”

“Do you see color?”

If you saw color as you looked at him, you hoped that maybe… maybe he saw color when he looked at you.

“No.”

Right. Of course not.

“Okay. Thanks! I was just wondering.” you handed him the mug, plastering a fake smile on your face (partly for the sake of customer service, and mainly to cover your disappointment). “Enjoy!”

He gave you one last look over, one last glance, before going to his usual spot by the window.

The thing was, you were hoping that he did. You know how ridiculous it sounded, being in love with someone who only spoke a couple of sentences to you. But you couldn’t deny that spending the entire summer excited to see that one person at work… it made sense that you would be.

You just weren’t expecting the colors to arrive right before you leave the job. The perfect time to fall for someone you will probably never see again once you leave and return to school and sports full-time.

Love really does come when you least expect it.

For the rest of that day, you spent your time finding as many colors as you could. You didn’t want it to go away, though it was a likely chance. The colors go away when the love does.

You had to look up what some of the colors were. It was strange to be taught the colors without ever seeing them, and your parents had explained how some colors look, but it was completely different. It was like each of them had their own feeling.

But, even then, you only witnessed the faded versions of those colors. The sky was a pale blue, hidden by the grey clouds. The grass was almost yellow, and the shop you worked at was a soft brown. Everything was still hidden by the greyscale you were accustomed to. And you couldn’t help but want to see more, see them in their full color.

Maybe falling completely and utterly in love would be an amazing thing.

It was comparable to the sun and moon, the relationship between you and Kei Tsukishima. You danced around each other, hoping to chase the light the other brought.

When you worked the next morning, your usual boy didn’t show up. Your eyes searched for him every time the small ding of the bell above the door announced someone entering. But it was never him.

Sighing, you ended your last shift there. Maybe you would come back as a customer, order a drink that has way too much sugar, and sit in his spot in hopes he would show up and sit with you. Or maybe you would run into him on your way out.

Or not.

As you hung up your apron for the last time, gave your manager your nametag and said your last goodbyes to your favorite coworkers, you accepted the fact that the colors would leave soon. They very well couldn’t stay if you end up falling out of love with a boy you would never see again.

It had been months.

Months, and the colors didn’t leave and didn’t grow any brighter. You were stuck in a world where everything was filtered to be faded, and you were growing annoyed.

“Just fucking go away already.” you spoke to the universe.

You would rather live in a world without color than live in a world of almost.

“Everyone!” Daichi called for the team to join him. They obeyed. “Now that Coach Ukai is our official coach, he’s come up with an idea. I think it’s pretty good, so hear him out.” Daichi announced. He turned to their coach, letting him speak.

“Alright, guys.” Ukai crossed his arms. “We have some tournaments this weekend. So do some of the other sports teams, specifically the girls volleyball teams and the softball and baseball teams.”

Tsukki was bored. What did softball and baseball have to do with volleyball? Their season isn’t for months, anyway. They have plenty of time before actual games.

“So, I’ve talked with the softball and baseball coaches and they think that it’s a good idea for us to team up for some fundraising things the next couple of weeks so we can get buses.” Ukai explained. “And, on top of that, someone from the softball team said that they would help us with volleyball practices after softball, since we typically end later than they do.”

“Wait, softball?” Tanaka gaped. “So a girl’s gonna be helping us?”

“A girl already does help us, dumbass.” Tsukki rolled his eyes. Kiyoko did too, but subtly.

“Yeah, she’ll be here in a couple of minutes so I wanted to give a warning.” Ukai said. “She’s in her first year, too, but I expect respect. Alright, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on with practice.”

Okay, cool. Now back to practice. The reason they’re there to begin with.

They practiced for a bit, going through drills and did a bit of half-assed running (which Tsukki still never understood, why would he have to run miles if he’s just a blocker?). Until a girl walked in.

It was you.

You were here, at Karasuno, at his practice.

You walked in, still in your softball practice uniform. Every time that he had seen you during the summer, you never had your hair down. But, when you walked into the gym and greeted Coach Ukai with a smile, your hair was down and messy from the wind.

Everyone else had noticed Tsukki had stopped in his tracks and dropped what they were doing, turning their heads to see what he was looking. Or rather, who. Now you had the entire team’s attention.

That was when you caught his eye.

His breathing stopped. And so did yours.

[argylemnwrites]

Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe)

Word Count: ~4900

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: A trip to meet the newest Beaumont isn’t off to the greatest start.

Author’s Note: So, since it has been ages since I updated this story, I feel like a quick recap is in order. Drake and Riley are in Cordonia to meet Savannah and Bertrand’s new baby girl, Caroline. They just met Liam’s new girlfriend, Iris, and her innocent questions about their postponed wedding made it clear that Drake is very frustrated by the fact they aren’t married yet. To catch up/jog your memory fully on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Drake groaned as Riley reached forward to start scanning across the radio stations.

“What?” she asked. He noticed her give a tiny shrug out of the corner of his eye as she leaned back after settling on a Greek Top 40 station.

“I knew it. I swear you pick this one just to annoy me, Liu.” Drake had made the mistake of complaining about this particular station on one of their first trips back to Cordonia, right before she’d gone back to university. It was all over-produced and sugary, and the DJs were just fucking obnoxious. Of course, that last point probably didn’t actually bother Riley, since she couldn’t understand a word they said.

“Maybe I just like this station.” 

Drake glanced over and took in the giant shit-eating grin plastered across her face and just rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Let’s ignore the fact that this station plays a ton of songs in Greek.”

“I’m just trying to broaden my cultural horizons.”

“Says the woman who refused to watch Parasite because it has subtitles.’”

“If I wanted to read something, I would pick up a book,” she said, but she did lean forward again to flip over to a different station. 

“Thank you,” Drake said, clicking on the turn signal as he switched into the right lane.

“You make it too easy sometimes,” she said, Drake noticing that she shrugged a little out of the corner of his eye. “If you didn’t act like that station was pure torture, I probably wouldn’t enjoy it so much.”

All Drake could do was shake his head. “You know, some people might not be so open about liking something out of spite.”

“No, it’s not spite.” Drake glanced over and raised his eyebrows at that, so Riley elaborated. “Spite is mean-spirited. I know you like my teasing too much for it to be spite.”

“Really.” Drake deadpanned, although he wasn’t able to hold back his grin and fully play along.

“Uh huh. What other explanation is there for you hanging around me after all these years?”

“I can’t think of a single one,” he said, earning him a flick of her fingers against his shoulder.

“Well I guess I will have to keep teasing you then. Otherwise I might have to settle for a guy who would have made me get up before six this morning.”

Drake looked over at her at that. Even after years together, her ability to jump from intensely sarcastic to gently sincere in an instant still amazed him. Last night, Maxwell had called and offered to pick them up from the palace after dropping off Mom and Aunt Leona at the airport, but they had a very early departure time. Drake had turned him down, feeling like it would be a shitty move to force Riley to wake up early on vacation, particularly since she never complained about using her limited vacation days to visit his family. Yet here she was, appreciative of his gesture that cost him nothing.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to spend two hours in the car with Maxwell.”

She let out a laugh at that. “Well, at least I rank as better company in your book.”

“Always, Liu. Always.”

“Seriously though, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Her left hand settled on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze at that, but she didn’t say anything else, just glanced out the window as Drake turned off the main road and onto the smaller one that led to the Beaumont’s estate. Within a few minutes, they were pulling onto the driveway. As they climbed out of the car, they heard an excited little voice calling from the direction of the estate’s entrance. 

“Uncle Drake!”

Drake closed the driver’s door and pivoted around quickly, crouching down and extending his arms. Bartie ran across the drive and threw his little arms around Drake’s neck, laughing as Drake scooped him up and hugged him tightly. 

“We saw your car diving! I wanted to go out. Say ‘hi’ like Mommy or Daddy. Uncle Maxwell said I had to stay inside. Had to stand still ‘til you stopped,” Bartie rambled off, barely taking time to take a breath. 

“Thought that a little toddler darting in front of the car might not be the best start to your visit,” added Maxwell, strolling over to their car. “Hey, little blossom,” he added as he hugged Riley.

“Oh, you don’t get to just ‘little blossom’ me after you convinced Liam to keep me away!” she chuckled as she gave him a playful shove. “What happened to me being a Beaumont and always welcome here?”

“He told you guys?” Maxwell asked, turning to glance at Drake.

“Of course he did!” Riley said, drawing Maxwell’s attention back to her. She laughed a bit and shook her head before walking around the car to Drake and Bartie. “Hey, Bartie! Wow, you’ve gotten so big!” Drake passed Bartie over to her, watching as she gave him a squeeze, but Bartie started squirming in her arms, clearly wanting to be released from the obligatory hugs.

Riley placed him down, and he turned right back to Drake, grabbing his hand and tugging on it. “Uncle Drake, come see my new playhouse!” he said, attempting to drag Drake along after him as he started moving back towards the estate.

“Hey, my favorite dude, do you remember why Aunt Riley and Uncle Drake are here?” Maxwell said, crouching in front of Bartie. 

Bartie kicked his foot against the driveway before he answered. “Everyone wants to see Caroline. But she’s boring. She doesn’t do anything!”

Drake was trying to figure out the best way to deal with his nephew’s clear jealousy, but Riley stepped forward and bent down next to Maxwell. “I would love to see your playhouse, Bartie.”

“What do you say?” added Maxwell. “Why don’t we show Aunt Riley while Uncle Drake goes to see your mom and dad and sister?”

Bartie was silent for a few moments, but then nodded, grabbing Riley and Maxwell’s hands and heading inside without a glance back. Maxwell chuckled, twisted around, and called out to Drake, “You remember where the nursery is, right?”

Drake nodded and raised a hand in acknowledgment, taking the time to pop the trunk and grab their luggage before venturing inside himself. He went straight upstairs, pausing only to place their bags in their usual room, before heading down the hall, turning to the left and entering the private quarters, making his way to the small room located all the way towards the end of the hallway, the last door on the right.

It seemed like just yesterday he was building a crib in there for Bartie when Savannah was moving in. The room looked much the same, the walls still a pale grey, the furniture all pure white. The layout hadn’t changed much, with the crib placed against the far wall beneath a painting of stars shining over a lake with a squid waving a tentacle in the air, the changing table right next to it, and the dresser next to the rocking chair in the corner. The only thing that looked different, as far as Drake could remember, was the sheet tucked around the crib mattress. Back when this had been Bartie’s room, the sheets were covered in a variety of zoo animals, the only splash of color in the otherwise greyscale nursery. Now, they were a black and white check, much more subdued.

Laying in the center of the crib, wrapped tightly in a light pink blanket, was a sleeping baby. Drake didn’t have a lot of experience with infants, but even he had heard you never wake a sleeping baby, so he stepped further into the room carefully, trying not to make a sound. When he reached the crib, he couldn’t help but stare. This was Caroline. His niece.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just taking her in, but eventually Savannah’s voice caught his attention.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a bit creepy to just sneak into someone’s home and watch their child sleep?”

Drake turned his head to look over his shoulder. His sister was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, an eyebrow cocked. “Hey, Sav. Maxwell sent me up here.”

“I should have known,” she said, walking over to join him by the crib, wrapping an arm around his waist as she gave him a half-hug. “I see you’ve met Caroline.”

“She’s beautiful,” Drake said, looking down again at the little baby in the crib, a few fine brown hairs covering her head. His niece. She was so tiny. It was kind of overwhelming, seeing her like this. When he’d met Bartie, it had been such a total shock that he even existed. Plus, he had been so much older than this. “Congratulations.”

“You can pick her up, you know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

Savannah let out a few little chuckles. “She is the one who disturbs everyone most of the time. Besides, she’s just about due for a feeding.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Drake. Just go wash your hands, and then you can hold her.”

And so a minute later, Drake found himself being handed his niece, so small and fragile-seeming. “Is this okay?” he asked, trying to make sure he walked the fine line between being gentle and holding her firmly as he tucked her against his chest.

“You aren’t going to hurt her!” Savannah laughed out.

“I just… I’ve never held a baby this little before. I don’t want to mess this up,” Drake said. Caroline felt so light in his arms. She was blinking, slowly becoming more alert after being shifted from her crib. Her bluish-grey eyes finally seemed to lock on his. “Hey, Caroline,” he said, “I’m your Uncle Drake.” But before he could think of anything else to say, she opened her mouth and let out a piercing wail.

Drake glanced over at Savannah. “What do I do?”

She laughed again. “God, what is Riley going to do with you when it’s your kid? She’s a baby, not an alien. She’s either hungry, sleepy, or has a dirty diaper.” But before she could poke fun at him any further, she reached over and shifted Caroline into her arms. “And since she’s hungry, I’m really the only one who can handle that.”

“Oh, do you want privacy or should I…”

Savannah shrugged. “I use a nursing blanket since Barthelemy walked in on me and made things real awkward.” And with that she settled onto the rocking chair, adjusting her top, positioning Caroline, then tugging a little cover over herself.

“What did Barthelemy do?” Drake asked as he moved to the side wall, leaning against it.

“Just acted real weird about the whole thing, talked to Bert about reminding me how a duchess should comport herself.”

“What a jackass.”

Savannah let out a sigh. “Bertrand was very apologetic when he relayed the message. But using a nursing blanket is not a big deal, and if it makes things easier for Bert with his dad…” She trailed off, staring down at Caroline, reaching under the nursing blanket to adjust something before she spoke again. “Having him around here has not exactly been some big happy family. I don’t know if his illness changed him, or if my memories of him were just fuzzy, but he’s an odd duck.”

Drake glanced over to the doorway. “Uhh, Sav. Not that I care, but the door is wide open and-”

She laughed and shook her head. “He’s at his rehab and physical therapy appointment this morning.”

“Ahh, gotcha. Any more talk of him trying to regain the title of duke?” Back when Barthelemy had returned to the estate, Sav had confided that it seemed like he was hinting that Bertrand should renounce his title and return it to his father. But since their wedding, it had seemed like most of that talk had died.

“No, he and Godfrey laid on the pressure after the honeymoon, but as soon as we announced the pregnancy, he backed off. His new mission seems to be to convince Liam that either Bartie or Caroline should be appointed as heir to the throne, which is crazy to think about, but it keeps him busy, so…” Savannah tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, letting the thought just hang there in the room. 

Drake was bothered by the implications of that statement, but he knew that pressing Savannah on it would not really get him anywhere. As inappropriate and concerning as he found the implication that Savannah and Bertrand weren’t shutting Barthelemy down completely with that shit, he knew voicing his objections now would not solve anything. Discussing this all with Liam would make much more sense. So he just filed the statement away and moved to change the subject.

“Is it easier this time around, knowing what you are doing?”

Savannah smiled before glancing down at Caroline. “I think it’s more that I have a support system. And yes, I know it was my choice to not have one before,” she added before Drake could interject. “I guess in some ways at least I know what to expect, but Caroline is way more cranky than Bartie was at this age. Besides, I don’t think any parent ever really feels like they know what they are doing.”

“Nah, you seem to have it down.”

“It’s just a lot of trial and error. You’ll see when you guys have a baby.”

Drake ran his hand across his jaw, glancing down and watching his toes nudge into the baseboard. “I have a feeling that’s gonna be a while for us.”

“Oh come on! Don’t you want your kids to grow up with their cousins?”

Drake swallowed before taking a breath. “Of course I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Well, getting married to start.” Shit. “Not that I think people have to be married to raise a kid or-”

“Relax, Drake,” Savannah said, cutting off his apologetic ramble. “It’s not like Bartie was a planned pregnancy.”

“Neither was Caroline,” he thought, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to risk offending his sister or make her feel like he was judging her and her family. 

“I know you have an old-fashioned streak-”

“Hey!” Drake interjected, but Savannah just kept on going.

“-but I think you guys should think about having kids soon. You were going to be married by now anyway! And isn’t that the modern, New York thing to do?”

Drake didn’t know where all this was coming from. Why she was so insistent about something that didn’t involve her. But man, he wished she would move on to any other topic of conversation. Because what could he say? That he was ready to be married with kids? That he would have no problem starting a family with Riley tomorrow? He couldn’t share that with his sister, at least not without sharing things about Riley he was pretty confident she would never want Savannah to know.

The fact that she had decided on a birth control option that would last for three years made it pretty clear where her head was at with the whole kid thing. She wasn’t really ready, not by a long shot. And until she was ready, there was really nothing he could do about it. Drake was just going to have to wait until she felt like the time was right, whenever that might be.

Maybe it was just that he was four years older than her. Maybe that’s why he felt so ready to take those next steps when she seemed so unbothered, so willing to just roll along. And to be fair, it’s not like they were ever going to be a couple like Hana and Catherine, who had timelines and life plans and five year goals. But deep down, Drake couldn’t help but wonder why Riley seemed so ambivalent about them getting married and starting a family. Was she unsure about something in their relationship, unsure about something with him?

It’s not that she didn’t want kids ever, as far as he knew. She’d mentioned wanting kids before. And they’d planned that first wedding without issue. But now it seemed like she was stuck. No rush to get married. Not thinking about having kids for years. And Drake didn’t know how to approach the whole topic without seeming like he was demanding things. Putting pressure on her. He was happy. They were happy. It was something his younger self would have never thought possible, and it should definitely be enough. But maybe he was selfish, because there were times where it just didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe it would be helpful to talk to someone about this, but that would feel like violating Riley’s trust. He knew Riley had her therapist she talked to, and he was sure their relationship was a topic of conversation there, but that was different. The therapist wasn’t someone who knew Drake, who was his friend or family. Anyone Drake would feel comfortable talking about this with knew Riley. Knew her well, quite frankly. 

So for now, he was just going to have to keep moving forward. Keep hoping that Riley would start to feel ready soon. And at the moment, that meant sidestepping his sister’s questions and prodding.

“Geez, Sav! We haven’t even been here for an hour, and you are laying it on really thick.”

“Sorry, sorry! I know it’s not my business! If it makes you feel better, it’s not just with you. Kiara also told me I needed to back off when I started asking her about when she and Oliver were going to have kids right after their wedding.”

“Wait, when did Kiara get married?”

“Oh, Drake! At least you have an excuse for not knowing all the news now that you live abroad.” she said, shaking her head. “They eloped maybe… four months ago?”

And then Savannah was off, filling Drake in on tons of gossip he didn’t give two shits about. But it made her happy, and it was a safe topic of conversation, so who was he to complain?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Riley sat crossed legged on the floor in Bartie’s room at a little table, Maxwell seated across from her. Meanwhile, Bartie was hard at work at his toy kitchen set, organizing pieces of plastic food on plates. He wanted to show off and make “lunch” for them. Riley supposed that this was probably a common way for a three and a half year old to want to play, not that she had any such memories from her own childhood. What wasn’t common, she was sure, was the formal table setting Bartie had carefully placed in front of each of them, the perfectly pressed white apron he’d asked Maxwell to help him tie on, or the fact that he was arranging his plastic lettuce, eggs, and meat on actual china.

“Looks excellent, my favorite dude,” said Maxwell as Bartie carefully carried over several plates to the table. “What’s on the menu?”

“Steak tartare with a fresh greens salad,” he said before turning and heading back towards his little kitchen.

“Wait, aren’t you going to join us?” asked Riley, trying to keep from bursting out in laughter at the thought of a preschooler preparing such a meal.

“Aunt Riley, no aprons at the table!” he said his eyes wide as he turned back to face her.

“Yeah, come on Aunt Riley, where are your manners?” Maxwell winked before twisting to look over at Bartie. “You need any help untying your apron there?”

“No, I can do it,” Bartie ground out, tugging on the ties without much luck.

“Okay, well I’m right here if you do need help,” Maxwell responded. Within five seconds, Bartie was back, standing right next to him.

“Thanks, Uncle Maxwell!” he said, happily pulling the apron off and jogging over to hang it up nicely once Maxwell had it untied.

“You’re working hard to maintain your title as best uncle.” Riley said.

“Every time you guys come to visit, he suddenly wants to go fishing and camping instead of having dance parties with me.”

Riley laughed at that. “We’re new and exciting, what can I say.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re the favorite aunt by default.”

“What does default mean?” asked Bartie, plopping down on the floor next to them.

“It means no other choices, dude.”

“Oh,” Bartie said, nodding before picking up his silverware, pretending to cut into the plastic in front of him with surprising coordination.

“So has Uncle Maxwell been hanging out with you a lot since your sister came home?”

Bartie shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’ve definitely been seeing some jealousy,” Maxwell said with a nod. “I kind of thought this might happen, so I made sure to clear my schedule for a handful of weeks around the due date.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

Maxwell tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Hey, I’m favorite uncle for a reason.”

“Uncle Drake is my favorite,” said Bartie, causing Riley to burst out laughing.

“Dude, that wasn’t the deal! You’re gonna pay for this,” Maxwell said, leaning over and wiggling his fingers. “The squid’s about to attack.” With that, Maxwell started tickling Bartie, triggering wild giggles and Bartie rolling backwards on the floor.

“Bartie!” Bertrand’s voice cut across the room. Riley twisted over to find him standing in the hallway, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him. “We don’t make our guests sit on the floor, do we?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Bertrand, it’s fine-” Riley started, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

“What do we say, Bartie?”

“Sorry, Aunt Riley.”

All Riley could do was nod, accepting an apology from a toddler that felt entirely unnecessary.

“Good,” said Bertrand, “Now go wash your hands and get cleaned up for lunch.”

Bartie scampered out of the room, turning to his left in the hallway.

“I offered to play with him, Bertrand.”

“Well, he was told that you were coming to visit Caroline. He should have known better than to monopolize your time.”

Riley opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Maxwell grabbed her wrist and shook his head. 

“How are you, by the way? I apologize for not being there to greet you and Drake.”

“I’m good, Bertrand,” she said as she pushed herself up on her feet, walking over and giving him a loose hug. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Yes, thank you. Drake and Savannah have Caroline in the private lounge if you want to go meet her. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check and make sure Bartie isn’t making a complete mess in the bathroom.”

And with that, Bertrand was off, following the path down the hallway that his son had just taken.

“Yikes,” said Riley as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Maxwell, looping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her in the opposite direction. “That is another reason I made sure I didn’t have any need to be on set or in LA for any writers meetings for a few months.”

“He’s more of a tight ass than ever.”

“I think he’s very anxious because he missed this part of Bartie’s life. The amount of research he did and the number of parenting books he read is insane. But any time any little thing isn’t what he expects, he flips out.”

“What does Savannah think about that?” Riley asked, following Maxwell down the stairs.

“Either she’s too sleep deprived to notice, or she’s just pretending not to see it. I decided to give him two months to settle into things. If he’s still snapping at everyone then, well… I guess I’ll have to stage an intervention or something.”

“Wow. Well at least you’re here to look out for the kid.”

“Yup, figure I can keep things normal-ish for him. Though I will say between watching Bertrand spiral and hearing Caroline’s shrieks, any faint consideration I might have given to parenthood has gone straight out the window.”

Riley laughed, prompting Maxwell to keep going. “I’m serious! I know I told you I was pretty sure I was good being the fun uncle, but these past few weeks have really locked in that decision. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Bartie is right - Caroline is boring. And loud. And I am so glad she is not my responsibility.”

All Riley could do was laugh more. “Do you need me to make up an excuse for you so you don’t need to be in the same room with her?”

Maxwell nudged her with his shoulder. “Oh, laugh it up! I don’t have any issues with her. She just confirmed that fatherhood is not for me, no matter how cute she is when she isn’t screaming her head off.”

At that point, they entered the lounge, so Riley dropped any further teasing she had for Maxwell. “Hey, Savannah. Congrats!” she said, walking across the room and giving her a hug.

“Thank you, Riley. It’s so good to see you!” Savannah replied as they pulled apart. Riley moved to sit down next to Drake on the couch, who was cradling a baby against his shoulder.

“This must be Caroline,” she said, watching as Drake tapped his hand against her back lightly.

“Either that or I have a lot of explaining to do,” Drake said, glancing over at her. Riley just smiled and nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“Drake, why don’t you let Riley hold her?” Savannah asked. “She should get to meet her aunt, too.”

“Do you want to?” Drake asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Of course,” said Riley, reaching over and helping him peel the tiny little girl off his chest, nestling her into her own arms.

Caroline was awake, her eyes roving around as Riley shifted back onto the couch more fully to try and get comfortable. After a few seconds, they seemed to settle on Riley’s face. All she could really do was stare back, taking in this child, this baby girl who might not have been planned, but would certainly be loved by so many.

“Yeah, I know I’m a stranger right now. But in a couple of decades, I’ll be the one you come to when you want nightclub recommendations in New York City.”

“Hey, I want in on that invite,” said Maxwell as Savannah let out a few chuckles. Riley glanced over at Drake, expecting him to be rolling his eyes or shaking his head, but instead was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. He was staring at her holding Caroline with such passion, such longing, she felt almost exposed. All she could think to do was drop her eyes back to the baby, not wanting to dwell on what that meant at that moment.

Unfortunately, Savannah must have noticed Drake as well, because she said, “Oh, I see that look. ‘A while’ my ass. I bet you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year.”

Drake let out a sort of sputtering cough at his sister’s comment, but before he could say anything, could so much as get a word out, Riley felt her own mouth opening. Her own response spilled out so glibly, without a second of thought. It was almost like she heard someone else saying the words, even as she knew she was the one speaking.

“Don’t give him any ideas.”

She felt Drake stiffen beside her, saw Maxwell shifting in his seat, and heard Savannah mutter out a little apology, but all of that was just background noise as her brain screamed at her. How could she have been so fucking stupid? What possessed her to say that? Or at least to phrase it like that? There were ways to shut down Savannah’s prying without implying that Drake had baby fever and she wanted no part of it.

The uncomfortable silence in the room was broken as Bertrand and Bartie entered. “Lunch is ready in the dining room,” said Bertrand, gesturing to the door behind him. Bertrand then stepped over to Riley. “I can go put her down,” he said, gesturing at his daughter still in Riley’s arms.

“Oh, sure thing,” said Riley, passing him Caroline before standing up. Savannah, Maxwell, and Bartie had already left the room, but Drake was still seated, his eyes locked on his knee that was bouncing up and down.

“Drake, I-” she started as soon as Bertrand had stepped out, extending her hand to help him to his feet. But Drake ignored the gesture, pushing his hands into the cushions of the couch instead.

“I’m hungry. Let’s just go eat, Riley.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t-.”

“It’s fine, Riley, Really. We can talk later” He nodded at her and started walking towards the door, leaving Riley to follow after him. And more than the brush off, more than his refusal to hold her hand, the fact that he’d not called her ‘Liu’ let her know that she had made a huge fucking mess.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff  

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know  @iplaydrake

ICWAM: @thequeenofpixels @sunnyxdazed @sammie0220​

[magalidragon]

fire on ice | a crackish Jonerys drabble

Soooo... @moggett reblogged this post and well I felt compelled to write a drabble for one of those prompts so I give you this crack fic-- a funeral home meet cute!

I give you....FIRE ON ICE!  And this is also partially @youwerenevermine‘s fault, lol, because we literally had same idea for one of the prompts.

“Thank you so much Mr. Snow.”

Jon nodded politely, solemnly, his gray eyes the perfect amount of sympathetic, sad, and he hoped the right amount of ‘normal’— lest people think him a total fucking creep—while he shook the hand of the Greatjon Umber, whose son Smalljon Umber had unfortunately encountered the wrong side of a chainsaw while out trimming trees.  

Greatjon began to go into a tale about his son—who by all accounts had been a horrible person—speaking like he was the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for all his ‘talents’ and ‘successes.’  “Hmm,” he murmured, walking him slowly to the door.  “He sounds like quite a man your son, thank you Mr. Umber, we will speak later regarding tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you again Mr. Snow.”

The door shut loudly behind him, Jon slumping against it, relieved.  He glanced at his cousin, who had emerged from the basement, shaking her chopped bob out of its messy little knot atop her head.  “He gone?” she demanded.

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to sew his arm on backwards.”

Jon closed the doors to the viewing room where Smalljon rested in repose until tomorrow when he’d be taken to the Karstark’s castle for the final funeral and ultimate burial in the crypts, as was custom for the Northerners.  He clicked his tongue.  “Arya, be nice.”

“Remember when his wife died, and he squeezed my arse?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“Thought so.”  Arya checked her phone.  “Your beloved texted me.  We have another on the way.  This one fell from the Wall.  Ygritte said he’s a fucking mess.”

He made a face; he hated that she referred to his ex-girlfriend as his ‘beloved.’  “Will you stop calling her that?”

“She works for the morgue Jon, what were you thinking?”

“It’s hard to find women in this line of work.”  He heard the bell ringing on the other side of the old stone house that served as their place of business and home—the five-floor monstrosity he knew people in town referred to as ‘Castle Black.’  He did wear a lot of black.  Came with the territory.  He waved off Arya.  “Just make sure you finish up with Mr. Lannister before the end of the evening.”

“The rich dude who died on the shitter?  Yeah, no thanks, that’s all yours.”

“Do you want to take this one?  Where the fuck is Robb anyway?”  Robb was the master of this shit, not him.  He was better with the dead.

Arya walked away before he even could try to play ‘Dragon, Wolf, Lion’ with her or answer as to where her eldest brother happened to have gone off.  Guess it was all him.  He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway, adjusting his black tie at his neck and raking fingers through his curls.  It did nothing to tamp them down. He schooled his expression, solemn, and pushed through the dark wooden doors from the funeral home side of the floor to the entry way.  He let them swing back and folded his hands in front of him.  

“Welcome to Three Wolves Funeral Home, may I help you?” he asked, voice gentle; you never knew who might be waiting to speak with you on this side of the building.  He’d been accused too often in Robb’s post-services discussions of being too cold.

The woman standing in a dark red dress with long black overcoat was not someone who appeared to be in mourning, but then you never really knew, some people were good at masking emotions.  Her silver hair was in an elegant, braided knot at the back of her head and she had large black sunglasses folded in her hands, gazing at the table with various brochures for caskets.  

She turned, blinking wide violet eyes at him, her lips crimson, face pale.  “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, eyebrow arching.  “I’m inquiring as to your crematory services.”

“For yourself?” he blurted, before he realized how it sounded.

She smirked, while he flushed, thrown off by her stunning beauty.  He tried to school his expression again; she could very well have been there for her husband, boyfriend, or other, he did not need to stumbling through this.  He wished Robb was there.  “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?  Well, I can assure you I’m not here to burn myself alive, but you know…” She inspected her hand, a couple rings on them glittering gold.  She grinned up at him.  “I have heard stories my ancestors were immune to flame.”

His throat constricted.  “Apologies.  Can I help you?”

“Your crematory services?” she wondered again, walking by him and into the showroom, running a finger over an ebony casket.  

“Ah…I am afraid Three Wolves does not offer such services.  We can, however, assist with selecting one, urns, and preparing a memorial service.”  He wondered what she was doing; she was now leaning down to look underneath a massive white casket.  No one really cared what the underside looked like.  He gestured towards the office.  “We can speak in private, if you wish?”  

The woman shook her head.  “No I’m fine, thank you.  Just doing a little bit of research.”

“For a relative?”  

“Something like that.”  She wore very high heels, which clicked loudly on the hardwood.  She glanced sideways; eyes shrewd.  “Are you one of the Three Wolves on your sign out front?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, I’m the mortician.”  It sounded so creepy like that, but it was the truth.  Robb handled the hand shaking, the business side.  Arya was their resident makeup artist—she could do wonders with faces practically taking them on and off—but he was the one who handled everything else.  

“Hmm, yes I heard of you.”  The woman offered her hand.  “Dany.”

“Jon,” he repeated, like an idiot.  He was put off by her beauty, rather disarming.  He swallowed hard again.  “Nice to meet you.  Is there…”

“This was enlightening Mr. Snow.  I’ll be back.”  Dany wiggled her fingers, waving, striding out decisively.  “See you later.”

What the seven hells was that about? He spun on his heel, about to ask her what else he could help her with, when the front door slammed shut, bell ringing on her exit.  He heard the door from the services wing open, Robb walking in.  He scowled.  “Where were you?”

“Talking with the Umbers, heard it went well, did we have a customer?” Robb adjusted his tie, eagerly seeing dollar signs.  “Where are they?”

“They left.”  

“Damnit Jon!”

He rolled his eyes, storming by.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Tywin Lannister?  Better make him look good, the Lannisters are paying through the nose for this.”

“Aye,” he said idly, heading downstairs and to his ‘lair’ as Robb referred to it.  He shook his head, preparing in the locker room, putting on scrubs and his protective gear.  When he tugged on gloves, walking over to the block of freezer drawers, he rolled his eyes again, making another face.  He was better with dead people anyway.

-----

A couple of weeks later, Jon saw the beautiful silver-haired woman again, this time from the front step of the funeral home, while Arya sat on the railing, Robb in shocked horror as the sign went up across the street.  

Dracarys Funeral Home and Crematory Services

“How did this happen?  We had the run of things here!” Robb exclaimed.

Arya cracked her gum.  “Want me to get info?”

The silver haired Dany waved from the front step of her home.  “Hello Starks!”

Jon shook his head, appalled.  “I thought she was just asking because someone died…like they all do.”

“You didn’t think that she was scoping the competition?” Robb shouted.

“I told you I’m better with the dead than I am the living!”

“Oh leave him alone,” Arya chided.  She rubbed Ghost’s ears—his great white wolf—gazing across the street again, shrugging.  “Maybe we can make this work.  Jon, you were the one who met her, maybe you can get some more info.  They do crematory, we don’t.  Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

Robb nodded, poking his shoulder.  “Go over there, find out more.”

Jon sighed.  He really didn’t want to do this. “I have that Wall guy to deal with.”

“Jarl will keep, go find out more.”

He slid away from the column, clicking his tongue for Ghost to follow him, the two of them crossing the street and up to Dracarys.  He entered into the front room, seeing that everything was a shade of black and red.  He glanced at Ghost, who was scanning the space with his bright ruby eyes, white fluffy tail wagging slowly.  “What do you think?” he mumbled.

The walnut wood stairs creaked in the back, drawing him towards the door leading away from the showroom and sitting area.  He peeked into another part of the old house, just like how their business was set up, with a viewing room and seating area.  He moved to another door, which was open, leading down a set of stairs.  

A massive black cat yowled from a sunbeam near the door, hissing at Ghost and running off.  Ghost didn’t bark but took off after the cat.  He sighed, calling out.  “Please don’t kill her cat!”  

He went down the stairs and pushed open a set of swinging double doors, pausing at the sight.  It was state-of-the art and he scowled at some of the fancy equipment he’d been trying to convince Robb to upgrade to for the last year.  He ran his tongue over his teeth, arching a dark brow at the woman who had been wearing head-to-toe designer when he’d met her and now was in black scrubs and protective gear, leaning over a dead man, a kit of makeup and brushes next to her.  

“Jon Snow,” she called.

“Daenerys Targaryen.”  He used her full name.  The proprietress of the competition, he would not refer to her as Dany.  “You could have told me you were moving in across the street.”

“And you would have shown me around?  I think not.”  

He stepped closer, curious at what she was working on.  His eyebrows flew to his forehead.  “Greyscale, huh?”

“Hmm,” Dany murmured.  “Yes.”  She looked up, grinning.  “I saw you coming over, decided not to stop you from finding me.  You’re not squeamish.”

“No I’m not.”

“They call you the King of the Dead.”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called.  “And you are?” he retorted.

“The Dragon Queen, I suppose you could call me.  Or at least, that’s what they called me at mortician school.”  She selected another brush, grinning.  “I’m offering a service that your busines does not Jon Snow, that’s all.”

“The North doesn’t burn their dead.”

“I know, but many in the South do.  There’s plenty of them moving up here.”  Dany stood and pushed the gurney with the greyscale man into the freezer, closing the door.  She removed her gloves and gear, walking by him, and began to wash up.  She tossed a serene smile over her shoulder.  “I think we can make this work Jon Snow.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Robb isn’t used to competition.”

“And you?”

He shrugged.  “I work better with the dead.”

“So do I.”  When she finished, she studied him for a few seconds, which unnerved him.  He tore his eyes from her, wondering what she was doing.  She approached him, hands on her hips.  “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

He frowned, nose wrinkling, surprised.  “Coffee?”

“A hot beverage, sometimes served with milk and sugar?  Other times with various accoutrements like cinnamon or chocolate?” Dany’s smile softened.  He saw then how gentle she actually was, how soft.  It was comforting and he wasn’t even grieving.  She must be very good at her job, he thought.  He was numb, unsure how best to reply.  She patted his arm, stepping by him.  “Come on, I’ve got a lovely blend from Braavos.”

In the kitchen on the third floor of her house, where he assumed, she lived, she prepared the coffee.  He wondered where Ghost had gone.  “This how you get all the competition?” he managed to get out.  “Ply them with coffee?”

“Just you.”  Dany sat down across from him at a small bistro table in a large bay window, with a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance.  She passed him the mug of coffee and used a small ceramic pitcher to pour milk into her coffee.  Lifting it to her lips, she smiled again, warm and eyes dancing.  “You intrigue me.”

He sipped his coffee—it was very good—a small smile on his lips.  “You are an interesting one, Dany…if that is your real name.”

“Only my friends can call me Dany,” she mouthed.  

“And we’re friends?”

“Well I hope we’re not enemies.”

Jon figured he’d have to wait it out and see for certain, but he didn’t think enemies was the best word for it.  He was not good at this sort of thing, so he chose to continue drinking his coffee.  He set the mug down on the table, sighing and cocking his head, a slight furrow to his brow.  “I’m not good at this.”

“I know,” Dany shrugged.  “But I am.”

Well that was that then, he figured, smiling at her.  

-----

“So where did you two meet?”

Jon wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, as one of Sansa’s friends from King’s Landing had cornered him, trying to get info on Robb.  “Where did I meet…?” he echoed, playing dumb.

Margaery Tyrell frowned.  “Where did you meet Daenerys?  Sansa didn’t tell me.  In fact, she’s being really weird about things.  Won’t even tell me what Robb does for a living.”  Her eyes lit up.  “I like a challenge.”

“Um, well…”

His wife of the last two hours emerged at his side, looping her arm through his.  “We met at a funeral home,” she said, smiling at Margaery’s wide-eyed, horrified expression.  Dany gazed up at him, love shining from her beatific face.  “In fact, we contemplated holding the reception there, but figured everyone might think that a little weird.”  She smiled even wider.  “Also in the future, please keep the Fire on Ice Funereal Services in your thoughts for any funereal needs!”

Jon stifled a snort, glad to be rid of the odd questions.  He smiled down at his beloved.  “We didn’t actually consider the reception there or…did you?”

“No of course not, I don’t want to mix business and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we did?”

“Nah, I came to scope out the competition and this really cute guy who couldn’t look me in the eye without blushing wandered in.”  Dany rose on her toes, pecking his cheek.  She patted her hand against his chest.  She beamed again.  “Best decision I ever made.  I could have sent Viserys.”

At the mention of her annoying older brother, Jon shivered.  He squeezed her close.  “Very well then.  Let’s at least try to figure out a better story, you’re scaring people.”

“Well it is the truth.”  

Jon shook his head, but smiled anyway, his arm around her and hers around him, both of them walking off into the crowd of guests.  He even thought that he overheard someone say the King of the Dead had found his queen.  He kissed her temple, sighing.  He certainly did.

THE END

[longitudinalwaveme]

Longitudinalwaveme Reviews Some More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 2

Batman #321, “Dreadful Birthday, Dear Joker...!” 

The story opens with Commissioner Gordon receiving an invitation to the Joker’s birthday party. “Black tie optional, funny hats mandatory”. A few seconds later, everyone in police headquarters doubles over laughing, the victims of Joker’s, well, Joker gas. 

Batman is on the scene only a few seconds later, and starts punching out Joker’s goons. Unfortunately, by the time he’s finished doing this, both Joker and Commissioner Gordon have disappeared. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Ah---the Batman! What an expected surprise! And what a waste of a perfectly good window! Couldn’t you have used the door?” 

As Joker leaves in his Jokermobile, the police officers tell Batman that the Joker also captured Robin earlier that day (by pretending to be a woman with car problems!) 

Meanwhile, Selina Kyle, Lucius Fox, and Alfred are talking when the Joker bursts in and kidnaps them as well. Notably, Selina mentions that she’s been having terrible headaches. 

Selina Kyle wakes up in a room with Batman; the other kidnapees wake up in the Joker’s “Ha-Hacienda” on his “victim-go-round”. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Tomorrow is my birthday, and by way of celebration, I intend to eliminate all you who’ve crossed me, while all of Gotham watches! It’s not exactly the catcher’s mitt I really wanted...but it’s a pretty fair second place! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Hawkman stars in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

The Joker murders one of his own henchman with his “BANG!” flag gun for not laughing at his joke. 

Eminently Quotable Joker (in response to Robin saying “You’re out of your mind!”): “Gloriously so! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

In order to get his audience, the Joker put an ad in the newspaper that states that the “Harlequin Baking Company” will be inviting all of Gotham to  sample its wares at the Seaside Coliseum. AND IT WORKS, because everyone in Gotham has the IQ of turnips. A bazillion people come to the Coliseum to get free food. 

Joker dramatically reveals himself to everyone and explains that he’s going to blow up all the people he hates with a giant cake bomb. Then Batman arrives and offers himself in exchange for the other hostages. This goes exactly how you’d expect it to go, but Batman manages Batman his way out of the trap, saving both himself and all of his friends. 

Joker runs away and jumps into a boat. Batman follows him, they fight for a bit, and then the Joker apparently blows himself up. But he’s not dead, because nothing can kill the Joker. Batman even says so. 

This would’ve made a great episode of B:TAS. 

Batman #322, “Chaos--Coming and Going!” 

And now for something completely different! 

Catwoman looks at a bunch of old newspaper clippings of herself, as the comic hints fairly subtly that she might be unwell (just as her headaches last issue did). 

Meanwhile, a van is delivering issues of the tabloid The Gotham Guardian...when a thrown bundle of newspapers is intercepted by a boomerang! Captain Boomerang is in Gotham City! 

The two men in the van react by promptly trying to run Digger over....only for him to slice their van in half with a boomerang!

Digger yells at them to tell their boss that this was only a warning: the mysterious boss owes him a million dollars, and he wants it in 24 hours or else. 

Then Batman shows up out of nowhere and he and Boomerang get into a fight. Digger distracts Batman by using his exploding boomerang to damage a nearby building. This causes some rubble to fall on one of the drivers. Batman goes to rescue him, and Digger vanishes. 

Green Arrow stars in a Hostess fruit pie ad! 

Batman talks to Alfred about Captain Boomerang, telling him to ask Lucius Fox to find out who owns the Guardian, since he’s probably Boomerang’s next target. He also refuses to call the Flash in for help. “The night I can’t handle a punk like Boomerang is the night I hang up my cowl!” 

Catwoman goes to a doctor and it’s confirmed that she is, in fact, dying. She has less than a month to live and the only cure is some Egyptian herbs that have been lost to time. 

Meanwhile, Captain Boomerang lets us know that he hates Gotham. “Lor’, but I hate this cronky town! I never would’ve come her from Central City if it wasn’t for my million quid!” 

Apparently, Captain Boomerang set up a retirment fund for himself and is ticked off that has money was subsequently stolen. 

“It’s really rum--downright ironic! The one time I play the game by their rules--and it’s me who gets taken for a sucker! Well, nobody crosses “Digger” Harkness--and gets away with it intact!” That’s our Digger! 

Also, he has a giant boomerang hidden under a tarp. 

Catwoman goes to the museum to see a display about cats...and conveniently, some ancient Egyptian medicinal herbs are there. Catwoman determines to take them so she can save herself. 

Batman asks the most Irish Irishman to ever walk the pages of the comic book about where he might be able to find Captain Boomerang, but he hasn’t heard anything. Then Alfred calls Batman and tells him that Lucius has discovered that the Gotham Guardian is owned by a corporation which serves as a front for a guy named Gregorian Falstaff. 

The man in question is eating dinner at a hotel when he is rudely interrupted by Captain Boomerang, who knocks out Falstaff’s bodyguard and demands his money. Falstaff plays dumb, claiming that the whole thing was an unfortunate accident and offering to write him a check. Boomerang insists that it’s cash or nothing (since he doesn’t trust Falstaff). Then Batman shows up, and Digger throws a smoke bomb boomerang that distracts Batman long enough for him to knock him out with another boomerang. 

“You gave it a fair dinkum try, cobber-but fair ain’t enough when  you’re dealin’ with the likes of me!’” Didgeridoo! Crikey! Steve Irwin! Can you tell I’m Australian yet? 

Selina Kyle tries to call Bruce but can’t get ahold of him, so she decides to take matters into her own hands and pulls out her Catwoman costume. 

When Batman comes to, he’s been tied to the giant boomerang. 

“Nothin’ permanent, mate--you’re simply tied to my giant rocket-powered boomerang! Only Flash’s super-speed saved him from the original--and without super-powers you’ll never escape this improved version!” So...which one of the giant boomerangs you used to launch the Flash into space are we talking about here, Digger? Because there’ve been at least four at this point. 

Boomerang launches the boomerang into the air and it explodes. Digger is naturally convinced that he’s killed Batman, only for Batman to promptly prove him wrong by showing up alive and well. “Nobody could possibly survive a flight on my Doomerang!” Oh, Digger...

Batman explains that he survived by “maneuvering my bonds toward the Doomerang’s rocket-jets--and the ignition-flames freed me! Then I simply slipped away under the cover of all that smoke before the Doomerang took off!” I love that Batman also calls the thing a Doomerang (with a totally straight face, mind you.) 

Then Digger throws a boomerang at Batman at the same time Batman throws a Batarang at him. But because Batman is Batman, he wins the boomerang duel and knocks Digger out. Way to take away Digger’s only accomplishment there, Batman. It’s like if Superman won any of his races against the Flash. 

Batman decides to investigate Falstaff. 

Meanwhile, at the museum, someone who looks like Catwoman is stealing one of the exhibits....

Flash #286, “The Color Schemes of the Rainbow Raider”

This issue introduces the greatest villain of all time...the dreaded Rainbow Raider! 

After a long day at work, Barry Allen is heading home...only for an alarm to go off at the Centrex Art Museum! Barry has to promptly go into action as the Flash as Barry thinks about how tired he is. Apparently, his new police chief, Darryl Frye, has made him work overtime three times in one week alone. 

Suddenly, a rainbow appears, bewildering Barry, as it hasn’t rained for the past week. Barry runs inside the museum to find the guards crying inexplicably. Barry deduces that the thief has been altering their emotions and realizes that this is probably not one of his established Rogues. 

Sure enough, he soon comes face-to-face with the Rainbow Raider!

“Welcome, Flash! I didn’t think you and I would be meeting so soon...but sooner or later we were bound to clash! Allow me to introduce myself! I am the Rainbow Raider---the most colorful criminal this city’s ever seen!” Oh, Roy. You’re so amazingly silly, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Roy shoots a beam of blue light at Barry, who somehow deduces that this was what enabled him to mess with the emotions of the guards. Barry dodges the blast of blue light, but it hit and knocked out by a blast of black light. 

The police are suitably baffled by the Rainbow Raider, who, incidentally, signed his crime scene with “The Rainbow Raider was here!” That’s amazing. 

Meanwhile, the Flash runs home, for the Rainbow Raider has...uh....sucked all of the color out of his body! Somehow! Wha? 

Meanwhile, in a mobile trailer, Roy is gloating to himself. “Now I know I’m ready for the big leagues--on a par with seasoned criminals like Captain Cold and Mirror Master!” Uh...sure, Roy. 

Batman and Catman star in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

“Roy G. Bivolo is compelled by higher motivations--like art appreciation!” 

Roy reveals that he suffers from achromotopsia, a rare form of colorblindness that means he sees the world entirely in greyscale. This fact apparently scuppered his burgeoning artistic career, because the art critics of Central City have never heard of black-and-white artwork even though it totally exists. 

Also, Roy’s dad was apparently a, quote, “leading world-renowned optometrist”, and he tried to create goggles that would allow Roy to see color. He passed away shortly after Roy turned 21; having finished the googles just days before. 

When Roy tested them a few weeks later, he found that they hadn’t cured his colorblindness...but that they could shoot out “bands of multi-colored solid light particles that I could literally “ride” through the sky”. Roy then uses his father’s notes to unlock even more abilities with his goggles. Eventually, his mother also passed away, and Roy decided to turn to crime. 

“Since I was robbed of a brilliant art career as a painter--I think it’s only fitting that I rob others....rob them of the pleasure they’ve derived all these years from priceless works of art I myself have never been able to enjoy! If I can’t see them in all their glory---then neither will anyone else!” Roy...that’s insane. 

Barry Allen fails in his attempt to flirt with Fiona Webb, then exposits about pseudoscience. “The color black appears black because it absorbs the light waves of all other colors...without reflecting them! Those black beams the Rainbow Raider enveloped me with must’ve had a similar effect--saturating my body with radiation that prevents me from reflecting any and all light-waves...leaving me totally colorless!” SCIENCE! 

Barry uses makeup and hair day to make himself look normal. As a result, he’s 20 minutes late to work and gets chewed out by his boss. 

Also: “The unnatural inner-vibrations from this color drain are steadily sapping more and more energy from my molecules by the minute!” More SCIENCE! 

Barry is about to get to work when he hears about the opening of the Skytop Art Gallery. Assuming that this would be an ideal target for the Rainbow Raider, he goes into action as the Flash. 

Roy has created a distraction by using his emotional manipulation powers to get all of the art patrons to fight each other while he escapes. Barry runs up a building and onto Rainbow Raider’s rainbow...whereupon Raider shoots a blinding light at him, causin him to slip off the rainbow and almost fall to his doom. Luckily, his ability to vibrate through anything saves his life, as he manages to vibrate through a green car he was about to land on. 

Barry then finds that he’s turned totally green. ‘I must’ve been vibrating on the precise wavelength of the color green when I passed through this heap--somehow allowing me to regain my capacity to absorb green light-waves!” SCIENCE! He then starts running through vehicles of other colors to regain his capacity to absorb those light-waves, too. Since Raider is colorblind, he can’t figure out what the Flash is up to. 

When Raider takes one last blast at the Flash, the effects restore him to normal, and Flash is able to make quick work of the Rainbow Raider. 

I love the Rainbow Raider so much.

[sailorsplatoon]

Here it is, the prologue for the dedfour fanfiction, which I only just now realized I never announced the title of.

Everyone, this is Watch the Sky With You. I am very excited to be posting this and I hope you all like it! If you missed my post on the schedule for this fic, you can check it out here.

Without further ado, let's get into the fic!!!

Next

Read it on ao3!

(Fanfic under cut)

Agent 4 loaded into the Memverse for another test run. Marina wanted to make sure everything was working properly before it went fully online, and she knew she could trust them with the task. Once it was completed, they would be a protector there, making sure everyone in it stayed safe… or something like that. They weren’t entirely sure, but they were happy to help with whatever they could. Especially if it meant restoring the minds of the santitized octolings that were still in the Deepsea Metro. When Agent 8 told them about what that weird phone thing did, Four wanted to help in any way possible. 

They weren’t doing any protecting right now, though. At the moment, all they had to do was run a few tests in the Spire of Order, the giant building that looked kinda like Deca Tower, to make sure the floors were working properly. 

But something was wrong. The code felt different than it normally did. As their digital avatar— which looked almost exactly like them in real life— slowly loaded into the Order Sector, they heard a voice they didn’t recognize.

“You are Agent 4, yes?” As the rest of the world materialized around them, they found a face to match with the voice. It looked like some kind of blob of black code… with a face? Marina hadn’t said anything about something like this.

“Yeah, who’re you?”

“I am Order itself. A conscious generated from the processes or many who yearn for stability.”

“Umm okay. What’d Marina put you here for?” If this thing was supposed to be a part of the Memverse, why hadn’t Marina told them about it? They were given full access to all information regarding this weird digital world, so why didn’t they see anything about this guy?

“I am here to bring order to the world.”

“Riiight well I gotta go get some beta testing done now soooo…” they tried to get around Order, but it blocked their path to the Spire.

“You will be assigned an alternate task.”

“Marina didn’t say anything about something else I had to do.”

“These orders do not come from Marina.”

“Then I ain’t following them. Now let me through,” they tried yet again to push past the mass of glitching code. And again, it moved to stop them.

“Do you not want to become the greatest being you can be? To become perfect? To lose all negative emotion and memory in favor of total order?”

“Say what now?” That sounded all too familiar. That was exactly how Eight said sanitization was marketed to unsuspecting octolings. They had to stay on their guard. This might not be good.

“You will be greyscaled in the name of order.” The blob glitched then shot into the air. Upon landing it transformed into a massive octopus creature. This definitely wasn’t good.

Four was just here for some minor beta testing, not a legit boss fight. They took cover behind some coral and pulled up the mod menu Marina had given them in case of emergencies. They equipped themself with a splattershot— or order shot as it was called here— a splat bomb for the sub and a trizooka special. They’d be at a significant disadvantage since they didn’t have a drone with them, or the chance to fill their palette with color chips, or any hacks. But with a weapon build made just for them, they had a shot at winning.

“Look dude, I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re trying to take away people’s free will then there is no chance I’m letting that happen. That is the exact opposite reason why Marina made this place!” Four shouted, running out from the cover the coral provided to begin their attack.

“Commencing greyscaling.” Order began to shoot massive blobs of black ink right at Agent 4. The thing wasn’t even acknowledging them anymore, how rude! Whatever. They’d take it out and then warn Marina about whatever was going on that caused this mess. “Agent 4, aren’t you tired of being seen as inferior to the other agents? Tired of being forgotten? You can help me bring order to this world, and no one would forget who you are again.”

They hesitated for half a second, but that was all the time Order needed. There was a sudden, intense pain in Four’s right leg. One of the ink blobs had hit them, and it stuck on. They felt their leg going numb the longer it stayed. This was so so not good. Another blob hit their shoulder and they cried out in pain as they stumbled to the ground. The ink didn’t do any damage but they felt it spreading more and more. It seeped through their skin and travelled along their veins. It was cold and stung like dry ice. But how could they feel it if this was all digital? Unless it was somehow happening in the physical world too. They tried to reach to rip it off, but their arm wouldn’t move. Their whole body wouldn’t move. The ink was spreading faster now, up their neck, over their chin, into their eyes. It hurt more than anything they could imagine. 

And then suddenly it didn’t anymore. Suddenly all the pain melted away.

“Greyscaling complete.”

[gally-hin-phantom]

Tutorial/Step-by-step/Tips 4

I will this time mainly talk about how to create coherent Characters Design, break down my thoughts process and give additional general tips

Since it's Concept Art, I won't do a "clean" lineart (I will mainly use my usual comfort textured brush and won't go further than a clean 2nd Sketch) nor add any shadings/effects (to not alter the color palettes)

Those characters are my friend pages_of_altaire's OCs, Vlad Masters's employees

I’m not a professional and nothing is “rule”, just an art nerd sharing what they learn in their free time

Long post !

xxx

Step 0: Collect Information

It’s tempting to straightly jump into the drawing but I really don’t recommend it

I usually make a tab with a part including basic information like : Name, Hair color & type, Eyes color, Skin color, Height, Body type And a part with : Cloths, Particular Accessories, Personality

If your characters are good with themselves and not hiding personality traits nor secrets, their personality and what they do in life/where do they live should be reflect in their clothing (however it’s interesting to make contrast if you want to create surprise, like a ruthless evil character with childish traits, or a very kind and sweet muscular tall man)

Pages_of_altaire made me a tab with all the information + mood boards 👌💚

Tip: We artists are often confront to same-face syndrome, but I will add that same body type syndrome is also very common while less talked about (even in the professional world like comics, or mangas) I highly recommend you to try going outside the “perfect standard body type” we usually start our drawing journey with if you want to vary your characters and give more depth to your world & stories (manly to feminine, thick to thin, tall to short, muscular to frail, old to young...) Tip: Like changing eyes types, varying hair is also very interesting to give your characters more personality (long, short, straight, waivy, curly, coily, braided, tied, messy, clean) Tip: Including a little personalized accessories and details really make a character stand up and more “unique” (a ring, a watch, glasses, jewelries, freckles, make up, a printed t-shirt...) Tip: If you don’t have any ideas, searching clothes and fashions references on Google or Pinterest could help

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Step 1: First sketch

This is just a really rough sketch to choose the eyes types and what poses would reflect each characters’ personality best

Eyes and face are the reflect of the character soul, it’s what we tend to look first and focus on (it’s biologic) so obviously we will have to be careful about the face

If the eyes are the soul, the hands are the spirit Don’t neglect how important hands are in a pose, are they showed ? hided ? crossed ? opened ?... A good pose includes good hands poses

Ask yourself, is your character cheerful ? grumpy ? confident ? cool ? shy ?...

Tip: The spin also shows how confident a character is, they could rise up or bend Tip: To make an interesting character sheets composition don’t sort the characters by height smaller to taller, try to vary and make height “waves”

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Step 2: Second sketch

I’m usually don’t bother doing a second sketch, unless I really want to have a clean final result But the cleaner your sketch is, the cleaner your final lineart will be

Since I’m still not totally comfortable with my anatomy (still working on my memories library) to make clean final product I generally use 3d models with the free app Easy Pose and adjust my sketch to give them the height & body type I want (changing the hips, busts, shoulders, muscles etc...), correcting the pose if necessary

There is nothing wrong with tracing a pose as long as you trace responsibly, it’s really common in industries (like Disney or Ufotable) to use 3d models to speed up the work and make artists’ lives easier Good tutorial and explanations by @pesky-poltergeist under @the-stove-is-on-fire‘s art tutorial => https://pesky-poltergeist.tumblr.com/post/646558144390119425/wing-drawing-hack-trace-a-photo-no-seriously

Tip: Use a dark blue instead of pure black to draw to rest your eyes, you will focus better this way and could still change the line color after :) Tip: To make a lively lineart, vary the line weight; thick for separate shapes & intersections, and thin for details & textures Tip: We tend to draw the eyes first, but try to draw the eyes at the very end of your sketch/lineart As said above, us human are social creatures, we are biologically programmed to search eyes and faces, by drawing the eyes first we tend to unconsciously search the eyes of our characters and then are distracted from the whole picture

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Step 3: Silhouettes

The silhouette help to understand how strong a character design is, iconic characters like Sonic or Cloud have very distinguished figures A silhouette also help to see how confident a character is If the silhouette is still clear the pose is strong and the character confident, on the contrary if the silhouette is more blurry the character is more shy

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Step 4 : Values + Textures (useful for greyscale comics like mangas)

The most important in a drawing is values (brightness), before saturation and color/hue (if you don't know value/saturation/hue, I recommend you to search some tutorials about the color theory on Youtube) I always start with choosing my values before adding any saturation or colors

Values could drastically change the mood of a piece (calm, drama, tension etc...) and for character design, artists use a full range for clarity; from high key to low key

There my example with bad values, as you could see cloths, hair and skin blend together and make the visual difficult to read

My final values, with define separations between the different parts

Tip: When you are drawing a group, try to vary where the darker and lighter values are between each characters to make an interesting and harmonious blend Tip: Adding textures/patterns give more life to a flat 2D drawing, especially for clothes or backgrounds; you could hand draw it or use premade brushes

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Step 5: Values / Hue / Saturation (Finished Concept Arts)

The value “rule” for clarity is still there for a colored drawing, you will just have a bit more values to consider

Since I was working on a group, to not clash characters I decided to give each of them a different main color based on their personality

Abby - Green : Youth, Energy, Freshness (bonus: green go well with redheads)  Nate - Blue : Serenity, Stability, Wisdom, Reliability Jolie - Red : Passion, Danger, Importance Angel - Purple : Independence, Nobility, Bravery Brad Yellow : Joy, Optimist, Enlightenment

While adjusting my hues I adjust at the same time the saturation to make something harmonious to the eyes, I usually choose to saturate one/two piece(s) of clothes or accessories by character to make it pop, usually the main cloth or the hair

To finish I just blur the line a bit, a bit of blushes, eyes lights and a paper texture on the whole piece Tada it’s done !!

Bonus: Step-By-Step gifs

Thank you pages_of_altaire for the character design exercise opportunity

I haven’t draw braids nor curly hair for a while now and it’s good to challenge ourselves a bit sometimes It’s help me go back on art after some rough weeks, and force me to go outside my comfort zone and comfort characters (aka Danny & Dani)

If you have any questions don’t be scared to ask me, I’m not a professional but I like to nerd about art ^^ 💚

[the-regal-warrior]

Making Mat: Part One

Welcome to my new Elorcan AU!! Yes, this definitely stemmed from the fact that I’ve watched Cheer like a million times, but I tried to write it so it would make sense if you haven’t seen the show. I’m so excited to share this little mini-series with you - it’ll be three parts in total!

Summary: It’s an Elorcan meets Cheer AU, because why not? Elide Lochan: member of the champion Terrasen University cheer team. Lorcan Salvaterre: serving his country in the army and Elide’s loving boyfriend. Watch their love unfold as their friends try to get him home to see her.

Warnings: Just some language, I think!

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It was a very big day - probably the biggest day of the entire season. Well, aside from Banjali. 

Elide could practically feel the entire squad buzzing with energy as she walked into the gym. She was a member of the cheer team at Terrasen University, which just so happened to be the reigning champion collegiate cheer squad - and the most decorated. They’d won more than any other team, and just making the squad was a huge honor.

But today was the day they could be granted the greatest honor of all - being chosen for mat. Even though there were forty members, only twenty of them could actually compete at the Collegiate Championship Competition in Banjali, Eyllwe. They worked hard all season - basically competing amongst themselves - to prove themselves to be deserving of one of those coveted spots. 

Tossing her bag onto the bench, she was just turning to go stretch with some of the others on the mat when she was lifted into a hug from behind and spun around. She squealed in surprise, her fingers gripping the muscular arms around her waist - arms she thought belonged to her boyfriend’s best friend in the entire world. A glance down proved her suspicions were right - a mountain range was inked across his left forearm in greyscale, a perfect match to the one on Lorcan’s arm.

“Vaughan,” she giggled, “put me down.” Expecting to find her feet on the ground, she shrieked when she was tossed into the air. Reaching down to brace her hands on his shoulders, he caught her just before she hit the ground, pulling her into a tight hug as he set her down. “You’re such a pain in my ass, Osten.”

“If that’s your polite way of saying that I’m your best friend,” Vaughan started, tickling her sides and chuckling when she giggled, “then I humbly accept.”

She huffed, but nodded anyway. “Mmm, I mean, I’m basically stuck with you because of Lorcan.” He rolled his eyes, so Elide leaned up to press her lips to his cheek in a quick kiss. “I’m just kidding, love. You know I’m glad of your friendship.”

“I’m glad of yours, too.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Vaughan began steering her in the direction of the mat. “Besides, as his best friend, it’s basically my duty to look after his girl while he’s gone.” Lorcan Salvaterre, Elide’s boyfriend and Vaughan’s best friend, was serving in the army, and he’d been deployed to Adarlan’s base in Melisande for almost nine months. She missed him terribly, but she was glad that she and Vaughan had become close. It was a way for the two of them to bear the weight of missing someone they both loved so much.

She giggled, coming to the stop at the edge of the mat. “And he’d kill you if anything happened to me while he was gone, right?”

“Erm, yeah, more or less.” Vaughan scratched the back of his neck and offered her a small smile. “But that’s not the only reason I’m your friend - I hope you know that.”

Taking his hand as she turned to look at the two people taking turns tumbling across the open space in front of them, she murmured, “of course I know that - but thank you.” 

He squeezed her hand in a silent thank you, and then they both immediately started laughing when they realized that the two people tumbling like beasts across the floor were Fenrys and Asterin. They were the two best tumblers on the team, and it was fairly common to see them trying to out-tumble one another.

The fact that they had been dating for almost three years only seemed to make them more competitive. As Elide folded her legs and sank down onto the mat, Asterin flipped her golden ponytail over her shoulder and arched her brow at her boyfriend. 

Taking the silent dare, Fenrys winked at his girlfriend and took off across the surface, his body twisting and turning through the air so quickly that Elide almost struggled to keep up. He stuck the landing with a massive smile on his face and stepped back, gesturing for Asterin to take her turn.

She did so, with all of her usual swagger in place, even going so far to blow Fenrys a kiss before she sprang into action. If his pass had been difficult to follow, then hers could only be defined as practically impossible. Elide had always considered herself to be a decent tumbler, but Asterin made her look like she had no clue what she was doing. 

Slowly easing herself into a split and feeling her muscles starting to stretch, Elide watched as Asterin rounded on her boyfriend, giggling happily when he bowed his head and held his arms out to her. She launched herself at him, squealing when he caught her and spun her around.

Though she was happy for her friends, watching them be so happy together sent a pang of sadness right through her heart. Though she knew Lorcan was doing something he loved, something he was proud to do, Elide couldn’t help but wish that he was home with her. 

Her mind was consumed with thoughts of him as she continued stretching, though her mood improved significantly when she remembered that he, according to his last email, was supposed to be calling her later that night. She was just thinking that she’d have to ask her coach if she could break the no phones rule when the woman stepped up to the edge of the mat and called them all to attention. 

“Alright, everyone,” Evalin Ashryver Galathynius started, “I know you all know what today is - it’s Mat day. So, I won’t hold you in suspense. I have the list right here, so I’ll go through who’s actually on first, and then we’ll talk about who’s doing what.” Everyone shuffled off to the sides, leaving the center clear for those who had been chosen. “And remember,” she added, “just because you weren’t chosen doesn’t mean you’re not a valuable member of this team, okay?���

She waited for everyone to nod their agreement before reaching for the notebook on the chair behind her. Elide felt her nerves settle into the pit of her stomach, and she reached for the dark blue scrunchie flecked with little white stars on her wrist. Lorcan had given it to her - well, technically, he’d given it back, since he’d stolen it from the pack before she’d even had time to open it - before he’d left for his last deployment, and she only took it off when she absolutely had to. It was a source of comfort for her, a way for her to keep him close whenever he was gone, and it helped take the edge off her nerves. 

Evalin cleared her throat. “Okay, then: boys first. The eleven of you chosen are Sam, Ilias, Enda, Ress, Galan, Luca, Dorian, Nox, Aedion, Vaughan, and Fenrys.”

Elide could see each of the boys let out a sigh of relief when they were chosen, and she realized that the moment of truth was all but upon her.

“And now, the girls.” Her coach looked up at all of them for just a moment, offering them a small smile before she read the names. “Kaya, Briar, Edda, Vesta, Lysandra, Nehemia, Aelin, Asterin, and Elide.”

Feeling the smile pulling at her lips, Elide joined her teammates in the center of the mat, hugging Fenrys quickly before Vaughan was tucking her into his side with a happy little grin on his face. 

Evalin offered all of them a very happy smile as everyone else shuffled over to the back half of the gym to keep stretching. “So, I have a feeling you all know why you’ve been selected, but I’ll just go over it quickly. The stunt groups will be as follows: Elide, Fenrys, and Vaughan; Aelin, Aedion, and Nox; Vesta, Ilias, and Enda; Lysandra, Ress, and Galan; and Nehemia, Dorian, and Sam. Baskets will be all but Lysandra’s stunt group, with Lys joining Elide’s, Galan joining Aelin’s, Ress joining Nehemia’s, and Edda joining Vesta’s. Elide, Aelin, and Vesta will be the top girls in the pyramid, with Lys, Nehemia, Edda, and Briar as the other fliers. Luca, Asterin, and Kaya will be our main tumblers, though Fenrys will also be doing quite a lot as well.”

She’d been listening with rapt attention as her coach rattled off their spots, and she felt some of her nerves settle back in. Stunts, baskets, and pyramid, plus the necessary tumbling, was a lot to ask of one person, but Elide knew that she could handle it. She’d spent years training for this exact moment, and she was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Now that everything is all sorted,” Evalin began, “let’s get started on the pyramid. Take five more minutes to stretch and then we’re going to run this.”

Realizing that she’d better talk to her coach before practice really got underway, Elide jogged up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

Turning, the older woman offered her a smile. “Elide. What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Elide said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “I sort of have a favor to ask you.” 

She arched an eyebrow questioningly, and Elide idly realized that was where her daughter must have picked up on the habit - Aelin had perfected the single-eyebrow-arch before they were teenagers. “What’s up, dear?”

“Okay, so I know you have the no phones rule, but Lorcan told me he’d be able to call tonight, and I was really hoping you’d be willing to bend it a little, just for tonight.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a single breath, and Evalin blinked at her, a slight smile on her face. “I was just really hoping you could keep an eye on my phone so I don’t miss his call?”

“Elide,” Evalin finally said, interjecting before she could keep rambling. “Of course I’ll watch for him to call - I know how important this is, and I’d never want you to miss it.”

Elide grinned, a happy little hum slipping through her lips as she hugged the other woman. “Thanks, Aunt Evalin!” Though they weren’t related by blood, Evalin and Elide’s mother, Marion, were as close as sisters, and the two families spent as much time together as they did apart.

“Of course, love.” She returned the hug before nudging Elide in the direction of the rest of the team. “Now, get yourself over there, miss. I’ve got a winning routine to perfect, and you’ve got a pyramid to run through.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She handed her phone over and jogged back to the mat, taking her place between Ress and Galan for the pyramid. Both of them offered her small smiles. Though she usually stunted with Fenrys and Vaughan, her starting spot took her away from the two of them. Not that it mattered - she trusted every member of this team with her life. 

“Alright, let’s do this!” Evalin yelled, clapping her hands twice and starting the music. 

Waiting for her cue, Elide took a deep breath and braced her hands on the boys’ shoulders. She nodded once, held still for two counts, and then she was moving. 

Being one of the top girls meant that she was constantly moving, constantly twisting and turning and flipping, being passed from one set of bases to the next to being braced on someone’s thigh or shoulders. She was rarely still, only hitting a pose for a matter of seconds before she was being tossed around again. Even though Vesta was the center top girl, the one who would be the focal point of the actual pyramid, Elide and Aelin were both given parts that were just as difficult. 

She lost count of everything that was going on in the gym around her, only focusing on the pyramid and her role in it, making sure that she was doing what she needed to be doing when she was meant to be doing it. 

It wasn’t until she’d been put safely back on the ground after their fifth - or was it the sixth? - run-through of the pyramid, Nehemia slinging an arm around her shoulders as they both tried to breathe, that she noticed Evalin was holding her phone in her hand. She gestured for whoever was FaceTiming her to wait for a moment before turning to face the team. “Okay, y’all, let’s take a break. Elide, someone’s on the phone for you.”

There was a loud chorus of “oooo” and “aww” echoing around her - everyone knew that she was waiting for him to call, but Elide hardly noticed. She was ducking around her teammates, all but sprinting for her coach. “Thank you, she managed to breathe before her phone was in her hands and her eyes met her boyfriend’s. “Lorcan!” she squealed, tears springing into her eyes.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, his normally stoic face splitting into the widest grin. “Are you crying, love?”

She sniffed, sinking to the ground and wiping the few tears that had slipped down her cheeks. “I just missed you, baby.”

He gave her a soft smile, and she noticed that there were unshed tears lining his eyes. “I miss you too, Elide.” They just stared at one another for a few moments, grateful for this time to catch up when they were apart, but eventually Lorcan broke the silence. “So, first things first - did you make mat?”

“I did! And I’ll be doing stunts, baskets, tumbling, and pyramid!”

She could see the pride filling his eyes. “I knew you would, El. I’m so proud of you, baby. Tell me everything.”

~*^*~

Vaughan watched Elide slowly sink to the ground, and the smile that spread across her face was as happy as he’d ever seen her. As he watched her keep talking, an idea was slowly forming in his head. 

Grabbing Aedion’s wrist where he was leaning against the wall next to him, he dragged him over to where Fenrys, Asterin, and Aelin had flopped down on the floor. “Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees how happy Elide is right now?”

“Aww, I know,” Asterin sighed, the others nodding along with her. “She really loves him.”

“They both love each other so much,” Fenrys added.

Aedion heaved a sigh. “I wish he could be here to see her - he’d be beyond proud of how talented she is.”

Vaughan nodded, a small smirk spreading over his face. Aelin noticed, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you thinking over there, Vaughan?”

“What if we found a way to bring Lorcan home to see her - and us - cheer?”

The others were all telling him that they thought it was a wonderful idea when Elide’s voice reached them “Fenrys, Vaughan!” she yelled, waving them over. “Get your asses over here - Lor wants to talk to you!”

Agreeing to table the discussion for the moment, the two of them jogged toward Elide, though Vaughan knew that the gears were still turning in Fenrys’s head, just like they were still turning in his.

Whatever it took, he would find a way to bring his best friend home to see his girl.

.

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[kate-komics]

A question to sort of piggy back on that-one-pizza:

What’s your process when it comes to choosing color palettes to fill in the parts that aren’t shadows? (obvi there are already colors established when it comes to Mando specifically) For example, I sometimes do a quick grayscale fill to explore the tone/mood I want to convey then move the color slider to match the tint or shade. My way is def quite a bit of work but usually isn’t done for comic illustrations, maybe it’s as simple as just...picking a color?

Appreciate your input and your work! From what you post here, your style is beautiful. Finally going to read Consolation Prize and I’m over the moon about it!!!✨

Oh god, I think my coloring is absolute garbage and I totally suck at it... but i'll do my best to answer!

So, I have several pallets saved for several characters and environments and usually just fill everything with its normal flat color right off the bat. From there I usually fill the panel with a pale shade of whatever tone fit's the scene (Like cool or warm or whatever) Then I usually test out blending options with the tone color. I usually find multiply the be the most useful for this, but sometimes other blending modes work from me.

Once I have a more uniform tone I try to keep it simple. Like, just adding a large gradient overshadow on multiply to the background or edges of the panel to emphasize whatever the main point or figure is in the the frame. I also add small shadows to characters features but I've been drawing back on that lately since I feel like it undermines my line work and I kind of view that as the star of my art rather than the colors.

And really that's another big thing to remember too as an artist. Make all parts of your style work together. I really felt like my coloring wasn't doing my line work justice for a long time because I would turn off my color layers and just look at my ink work and would just be like "Wow, I like it like this so much better." It's easy to go too far for me. I wan't my color's and shading to minimal if they're not important, but I think I'm finally getting happy with my coloring style and you'll defiantly see a change in this new comic.

I think the use of coloring and shading something in greyscale first is an awesome technique and I know A LOT of artists that do it. It's fast and efficient too. It just doesn't work for me personally.

Coloring's a bitch and color theory's and even bigger bitch to figure out. Keep working at it and you'll get to where you wanna be!

This probably didn't help but thank you for the ask and support! Good luck with your art!