#also one of these things i'm like ALMOST sure i had installed says it requires bibo+ and i THINK i had that installed previously?

[fooltofancy]

can't remember what freakin. body replacers i was using. it wasn't just the base tbse there was an additional set and i don't know what it waaaaaaaaaaas

oh wait jks i just had to. watch this other thing install lmao. no brain send help.

[lanshappycorner]

a long and overly detailed guide on transferring CSP brushes in between devices because i am stupid so someone out there probably is too and might need this

yeah so i spent like the past 3 days trying to figure everything out, and i figured i would save people time in case they were going through the same stuff (also in case this happens again and i Forget)

this guide is specifically for version 1.0, the discontinued version. I have no clue if it applies to any version after, but you can try it.

so let's say you draw on your laptop, and you get a new one. here is what you should do

...actually before i get into the steps, make sure to back up all of your settings and brushes here. it will make your life a lot easier trust me

back up all your app settings on your old device, and then restore them in your new one once you have installed CSP onto your new device

HOWEVER STARTING FROM THE TOP...buy some sort of USB/hard drive. stick it into your new laptop and then copy and paste everything necessary into it (all CSP/CELSYS setup/files. additionally any art files or whatever else you have downloaded that you wanna bring along, but in this case, we're only talking abt the CSP app itself)

once you copy all the necessary files onto your hard drive (MAKE SURE before you eject the hard drive, that it is safe to eject. the one i used had an option where i had to click eject hard drive, and only after clicking it could i safely eject it)

okay now you have all the stuff you need. stick the hard drive into your new device and copy and paste your stuff into your new device.

These steps might take more or less time but now going back to the cloud back up thing from the beginning. if this process is successful, once you click "restore app settings", everything should be fine and you should be all good to go and this tutorial ends here

However, if you open CSP and all of your brushes have become deformed like so, and almost the entirely of your materials folder is empty, this is what this guide is for💀

As far as I know, if this happens you're basically fucked 💀 you can keep trying to backup your cloud settings, but after a couple of times, if none of your brushes are restored, you will have to use other means.

You will have to transfer brushes over to your new device individually, and during this stage, I really recommend you just download all your favorite brushes. You can redownload the other ones in the CSP assets store later

go to your old device and right click your fav brush. Let's say my fav brush is the Lan Brush. I'm going to right click Lan Brush, click export sub tool, and download it. It will naturally save as a sut file (Lan Brush.sut)

idk if other people had to do this, but I did so. basically you go to your downloads and make a new zipped file, name it whatever your brush is (so Lan Brush)

once the zipped file has been created, you now have the zipped file and the sut file. take the sut file, and drag it into the zipped file

this step kind of requires a google drive but i trust you have one. so go to your google drive. take the zipped file, and just drag it into your drive, and it should naturally upload

now, switch to your new device. if you go onto your google drive, the zipped file should be there. download that zipped file, and then right click, and click extract all.

go to CSP, right click any brush (it doesnt matter which one, it will not affect your brushes dont worry), and click import sub tool. navigate to your folder, or in my case, Lan Brush, and click on it. you should now see the sut file inside the folder

click on the sut file, and now your brush should be uploaded! Feel free to drag your brush into your CSP material folder to save it there too :) do this as many times as you need with however many brushes you want

this is also good for uploading brushes in general, so if you make a fun brush you wanna share with your friends, you can turn it into a downloadable zip file and then share it by exporting the sub tool

BUT WAIT THERES MORE !!!!! I've covered brushes, but what about 3D models? what about image materials? Sites will tell you it is currently not possible to transfer it without blender but don't believe them, i have the will of a desperate artist

For the most part, if the 3D model or the image asset is available on the CSP asset store, I would recommend just searching it up and downloading it, its the fastest way💀 however if these assets are for whatever reason deleted and unavailable, then you can do this

Let's start with 3D models. Let's say you have a 3D model or a body shape asset or something.

make a blank canvas and drag whatever model(s) you want on there. as long as theyre on separate layers, its fine.

now save the canvas as a clip studio paint file as you normally would.

go to your google drive, and drag the csp file into it. it should upload naturally as a zipped file

Go onto your new device and download the zipped file. Right click and extract all. Now you should be able to access the CSP file. Open it on CSP.

now go to your layers. you see the layer the 3D model is on? take it and drag it into your CSP materials folder.

congrats! now your 3D model is an official asset again and you can use it whenever you want

This also applies to image materials too, and basically every other asset, so you can do that with your other stuff too.

That is where this tutorial should end but if you're like me, you will struggle even more😇 this step only applies to image materials, so i cannot provide you with further advice for imported 3D assets

Let's say you try to save all of your image assets in separate layers into a CSP file to upload onto your new device. however, you are out of storage. your file keeps encountering errors, and you cannot save your file no matter what, thus you cannot upload it to your google drive

this is what i would refer to as a last resort. it is super annoying so dont do it unless you're desperate but open up a tumblr draft. yes open up a tumblr draft.

you are going to copy that layer and paste it into your drafts. save it

okay now go onto your new device, and open an empty CSP canvas. Log into tumblr, go to your drafts and click on the image.

copy and paste the image into your blank canvas and then take the layer the image is on, and drag it into your material downloads like you would in the previous process with the 3D stuff

If by any chance the image that you are copy and pasting is transparent in any way, or black and white, when you paste it onto tumblr, tumblr will provide you with a white background, which is kind of annoying

either ways once your layer has become transparent again, you can drag the layer into your material downloads, and you're done.

but continue to copy and paste it back onto your canvas, and now you should have your image material with a white background.

To get rid of the background and make it transparent again, click "edit" at the top, and then "Convert brightness to opacity". Converting brightness to opacity will make your image greyscale, but I'm kind of assuming your image is already in black in white.

If it's transparent and not in black and white, idk how to help you there, you'd have to recolor it once its transparent again ig💀 this mainly applies to lineart type images (where recoloring it is easy with the bucket tool)

That's all I have to say, but if you have any problems with any of the steps, feel free to ask me (I'm not the most tech savvy person though, hence why I'm making this guide to help myself too💀 but I will try to answer you as best as I can)!

[signoraviolettavalery]

I do believe it is time for the next installment of @touchyourblood 's and my vampire!Bojan AU - or at least, one version of it, wherein Jan is an undercover hunter who joins the band.

This is part 2 - one of my favorites, but also one of the angstier ones.

After their late-night heart-to-heart, Jan and Bojan return home and call a meeting of the band.

"He knows," is all Bojan says. Shocked, slightly horrified stares from all of them.

"I didn't tell him," Bojan adds. "He figured it out."

Jan repeats his soft-of-true story about how he's had an encounter with a vampire before and put two-and-two together.

"And?" Kris presses. The others look at him, worried. "You seem rather calm about this."

"I'm not scared of Bojan," Jan says. "I care about him, and the rest of you. I won't tell anyone, and I'd like to stay and be part of the band."

They agree, and give Jan a rundown of how they do things: they take turns being the ones Bojan feeds on. He only needs to do it once a week, and he only ever takes from the wrist for their safety. (Jan, who's seen Bojan feed and also in other contexts, thinks he's the most disciplined man he's ever seen, and that precaution is probably unnecessary). Most vampire myths are a lie, but they do have to be careful about silver and sacred ground. ("Glasgow must've been uncomfortable?" Jan asks. "Oh yeah," Nace says.)

And things really don't change much after that, except it's a relief to Bojan to not have to hide. ("I hid that part of myself because I didn't want you to be afraid of me," Bojan admits once). They don't have to keep the feedings a secret, though they're still discreet. They work together better than ever.

One day, Bojan seems especially tired. He's been puttering around the house, until, with a big sigh, he lies down on the couch, his head in Kris' lap (Jan is on a neighboring couch, strumming his guitar).

"When's the last time you fed?" Kris asks.

"Thursday."

"It is Thursday."

"Last Thursday, then."

Kris sighs and offers a wrist. "Drink," he says, in a tone that doesn't invite protest.

Bojan protests anyway. "I can't. We have a concert tomorrow, and you heal the worst."

"Yes, we have a concert tomorrow, and you need your strength for it, which means you need to feed."

"He can feed on me," Jan breaks in.

They turn to him, Bojan full of concern. "You don't know what you're offering," he says.

Jan, who's seen Bojan feed more than once, just smiles. "I have some idea," he says. "Besides. Your other friends volunteered, why can't I?"

"You have to be sure," Bojan says, panic almost edging into his voice. "Really sure." And Jan realizes just how scared Bojan is to show his 'monstrous' side.

"I am sure," he says, sitting down next to Bojan on the couch.

"It's easier if it's your right wrist," Kris offers. "For guitar playing, I mean."

Kris would know, of course.

Jan extends an elegant wrist that Bojan takes just as delicately. He hesitates, and Jan thinks he'll require more convincing. But after a second, Bojan lets his fangs extend and his eyes turn red.

It's...a sight. Jan's seen vampires look like that before, but not Bojan. It's a little frightening, to see a monstrous face on his friend. But instead of attacking his wrist, Bojan bites gently, carefully. It almost doesn't hurt, and Jan leans back into the cushions and lets his friend drink. He's expecting to get a little dizzy from the blood loss, but Bojan pulls away before he starts feeling anything close. Jan blinks.

"That can't have been enough," he says, as Bojan licks the last drops from his wound and it seals itself, like it's a few hours old.

"He never takes enough," Kris says. "You have to make him drink more."

"It's his first time. I took enough," Bojan says. He takes the bandage Kris offers (they keep them around the house for situations like this) and gently, carefully binds Jan's wrists. He doesn't let go when he's finished, but caresses his knuckles and looks him in the eyes. "Thank you," he says, sincerely.

And how could Jan have ever thought this man could be a monster? How could he have even considered the possibility? He's the furthest thing from it.

"Anytime," he says with a smile, and means it.

And, should you be inclined in the slashy direction (this is the only somewhat romantic bit and is more implication than anything)...

one night, the two of them are kissing, Bojan having pushed Jan back onto a couch. Jan's head is thrown back, Bojan is kissing his neck, licking it, but of course he's not going to bite, he'd never endanger his friend like that.

Except in that moment Jan says "you can. I trust you."

And Bojan, in that moment of intimacy...does, against his better judgment.

The next morning, Jan has a giant bite on his neck and they're all getting breakfast and Kris sees it and turns to Bojan. "you bit his neck??"

Jan: it's fine, I can wear a sexy little scarf

Kris: that's not the main issue and you know it

Bojan tries to agree with Kris, it was reckless and irresponsible and he should've known better, should've had better control but Jan isn't having any of it.

"It was my idea. I'm responsible for my own decisions. I told you I trust you, and you proved I was right."

But Kris is still concerned. "he did stop, right? You didn't have to pull him off?

Jan: for fuck's sake. It was my choice, it's not like he attacked me and fed. And he didn't come close to taking too much. In fact he stopped sooner than I frankly wanted him to."

Nace: that's ...sweet?

And it's all beautiful and wonderful and fine until Bojan goes into Jan's room, which had been Martin's room, looking for some old guitar paddle boards that he'd left behind in the closest or something, and finds....a hunter's kit stashed away there. One that Jan had practically forgotten about, hasn't thought about using in months. It comes cascading down on him, stakes and holy water and other things, just as Jan walks in with a "what are you doing?"

"I was looking for some of Martin's old equipment, but, well." He gestures at the contents of a hunter's kit scattered on the floor.

"I can explain - " Jan begins.

"So all this time, you were just...biding your time? Gathering intelligence, I presume, and making plans to rid the world of a monster?"

"No!" Jan says, forcefully. "I don't think you're a monster. I haven't for a long time. I came here believing that and looking for proof of it, because the only other vampire I've ever encountered definitely was a monster. He nearly killed my family in front of my eyes. But the more I got to know you, the more I saw who you really were. You became my friend I care for you. I trust you. I'd never hurt you, I swear."

"You let me feed from your neck," Bojan says. "What was that? Were you fucking with me? Trying to prove how tough you are?"

That, more than anything, breaks him. It was the ultimate form of intimacy for Bojan and display of trust for Jan. It was vulnerability, showing his "monstrous" side, exposing what he sees as the worst of himself, the part he fears makes him unlovable, and having it accepted. And suddenly it seems like some kind of sick game.

"No," Jan helplessly insists. "I let you do it because I trust you with my life. I wanted it. It was real, I swear it was real."

Bojan shakes his head. "Real," he says bitterly. "I trusted you. I told you about my worst fears. While you were watching and deciding whether I get to live? Taking it upon yourself to be judge, jury, and executioner and it's all supposed to be okay because you decided that I do deserve to be alive?"

And that cuts deep, floors Jan. Because isn't that what happened? He came here with an intent to kill, thinking he had the right to play god. And he might not have killed, but he took it upon himself to have that power, while basking in Bojan's trust and affection.

"I'm sorry," Jan says. "Truly. And I'll do anything to fix this. Just tell me what to do."

Bojan just shakes his head. "I have no reason to believe a single word you're saying, and I don't know if I'd ever be able to trust you again."

(in another of the million variations we had in this scene, Bojan says something like

"so if I were really the monster that you think I am, what do you think I'd do now? I'd kill the person intent on killing me, right? "pin you down, drain you of blood, make sure you can never harm me again. Isn't that what a monster like me would do in this situation?"

"I don't think you're a monster. I haven't for a long time," Jan says.

"Is that ...is that supposed to make me feel better? Is that supposed to make it okay that you came here to kill me?"

"No," Jan agrees. "You have every right to be angry, and upset. I know you feel betrayed and can't possibly trust me anymore but. What we had, the friendship, the late-night conversations, the intimacy...for me, all that was real. And I'll do anything to fix this.")

(in yet another variation, Bojan picks up one of the stakes and holds it to his heart while stepping close to Jan.

"Go on, then," he challenges, looking painfully resigned. "Do it."

Jan shakes his head, has no intention of doing it, obviously, is begging Bojan to put it down, when the others walk in. See Bojan holding a stake to his own chest, the moment clearly heated, and assuming Jan has threatened one of them. Knowing Bojan would drive a stake through his own heart to protect his own friends.

"It's not what it looks like -" Jan protests, but they ignore him, grab Jan (who doesn't resist, and tell Bojan to drop the stake.

"Don't do it. Whatever he threatened, we're not afraid. We stick together." Which makes Jan feel even worse.)

Essentially, Bojan asks for space from Jan, to begin with. Which Jan of course respects. He tells the others what happened, and that makes them furious. Jan is desperately trying to convince them, too, that he's changed, of his true intentions, but they don't want to hear a word he has to say

"He actually felt confident enough to tell US to relax! Do you have ANY idea how much that meant to him?" Kris demands.

"you made Bojan so happy. You were good for him. And it was all a ploy? Disgusting."

one of the others adds "he'd have died for you, and this is how you treat him?"

And on that angsty note, I will end :)

[northwest-cryptid]

I don't collect many things, but of the things I do collect I think the most surreal is physical Mabinogi merch.

To explain Mabinogi is an MMORPG that came out in 2008 and I've been playing it ever since beta. I'd argue it has plenty of charm and enough reason even now in 2023 for anyone with even some slight interest in it to give it a shot however to me (and to my partner) it has a special place. Not only is it how my partner and I met, but it's literally a game I have played for 15 years now; considering I'm 28 that's over half my entire life.

As you might imagine back in middle school and even early high school I didn't really have a lot of money, let alone the understanding of how to order things from overseas. So a very niche MMORPG didn't necessarily have a lot of merch out and about. While most kids at my school had Pokémon backpacks or some kind of Anime plastered on their shirt (normally Naruto or Dragonball) I never had physical merch. So I was always that annoying kid who had to verbally tell you how much I liked my dumb special interest.

To give you an idea of how much this game was a part of my life, my mother once bought me an actual copy of the Mabinogion, like; the book that the game is loosely based on, it's entirely in Welsh and my mom also gave me a dictionary to translate it, I was stoked about this; I was in early high school walking around with a black book with a red symbol on the front speaking in Welsh as you can imagine this did not make me popular and cool.

Now my partner and I collect actual official merch, just last year we acquired a few magazines, guide books, and even manga. It's incredible to behold such a snapshot of time from when this was all still new and popular.

This is a guide book from back when the slogan for the game was still "fantasy life" it would later become "anime life" and a few other things; but this is the one I remember from my childhood:

We were really excited to look through this and translate it, more over we were taken aback by the system requirements listed in the guide book, I mean just check out these specs!

The funniest part is that there was a time at which I was getting a new laptop because I had to travel and I specifically gave the guy at Bestbuy this almost exact rundown for the specs I needed. This was of course because my plan was to install Mabi on it, which I did. However I had a hard time explaining to anyone why I wanted these sort of specs specifically without saying "uh so I can play an extremely niche online game from Korea?"

We also got books that were literally Item and databooks which had full lists of items you could obtain in the game as well as what races and genders could use them:

This was an absolute trip down nostalgia lane for us.

I cannot stress just how cool it was to flip through these pages and go "oh shit I had those, oh I remember that! Remember this? Yea it was from an event, damn that was a long time ago; oh god I'm old."

It's crazy to see just how much detail and effort went into these! I didn't even know they existed, if I was aware of these back in school I'd have gone ballistic over them like, check this out there's entire pages dedicated to Generation 1:

of course the merch pages caught our eye looking over all the stuff we have yet to hunt down for our collection

These books are great and I personally love the manga, illustrations of the world that I've only ever seen as low poly PMGs is such a sight to behold as a long time fan.

However you may notice something, there's not a ton of physical merch. Sure there's books and manga, and it seems like at one point there were standees and a few figures, posters, and mugs; but these days getting your hands on the rarer merch can be difficult and not to mention expensive.

That's sort of why we excitedly took matters into our own hands, slowly and methodically recreating the game's PMG models as OBJs we can actually print from our 3D printer. It's not easy but it's totally worth it.

I know this probably sounds REALLY stupid to you, and I wouldn't blame you for laughing at me for it; but the fact that I have played this game for 15 years; and today I held a 3D printed figure of a Golem in my fucking hands has me feeling a certain kind of way that's hard to explain. Knowing I could print figures of our characters, our favorite NPCs, not to mention entire dungeons and create dioramas of our favorite places from a game that means so much to me is genuinely mind boggling.

I think the part of all this that still has me in disbelief is that if you asked me what I wanted when I was a depressed 16 year old in school who came home and immediately jumped on Mabi; I'd 100% tell you that I just want to live alone with a partner who enjoyed Mabi and maybe a few cats. Now I'm 28 living with a partner who I not only met via this game but who is actually significantly better than me at it lol; we also have 3 cats and our home is slowly but surely being decorated with more and more Mabinogi crafts. I don't mean to sound like my life revolves around this game, though I admit I do laugh when my partner breaks out her signature slogan of "Mabinogi is Real Life" but I guess in a sense it just feels like I've fucking made it you know? I did it, I finally got the life I was longing for and while it may not feel real; every day this sort of thing happens makes it a littler harder to deny that I'm living the dream. I'm far from rich and I'm far from healthy; and I don't exactly have a great career or anything sure, but I think 16 year old me would be happy with the way I turned out.

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

Okay y'all. This is the story of how I owe $17,000 to the guy who propositioned me during family night at a local brewery and now I'm committed to bringing sensible wine options to his house for Thanksgiving.

Our tale begins like most do - panic crying in the living room while my house floods. Because of a freak polar vortex like day in February, my old drafty house and the rust bucket of a boiler in the cellar created a horrific one-two punch that ended in me nearly freezing to death in my own home and almost all of my heating pipes cracking and leaking, flooding my first floor and basement. It was terrifying, beyond stressful, and most importantly to this story, expensive.

After 2 and a half months of living in a hotel, battling insurance companies, daily anxiety attacks, and having 4 grand of insurance money stolen by my bipolar, narcissistic mother, I hit my absolute fucking limit. Friends of mine who are much better off financially than I have ever been in my life offered to help me out of the dark, lonely, and cold hole I'd wound up in. Three text messages and a lot of tears later, I was in possession of a check for $17,000 and had an official start date for construction. Praise Dolly.

A hop, skip, and a jump through time and we're now in July. I'm paying my friends back in monthly installments and trying not to crumble from the knowledge that it will take me 4 or 5 years of consistent payments to get out from under this loan. But at least I have heat. It's the little things I guess.

My friend, let's call him Mitch, and his wife, who unfortunately shares my name but for this we'll call her Lucette, are kindly checking in on me and inviting me to coffee/dinner/drinks to hang out. Things seem like they're back on track to being normal.

Lucette gets a new job that requires a ton of travel, so I don't see her as much as I do Mitch, but that doesn't bother me, as Lucette and I were never particularly close and spending more than an hour of time with her makes me feel like a dirt poor 19 year old who showed up to a nice dinner party in paint stained jeans and a ripped band tee. We are not energetic or socioeconomic equals.

One weekend, Mitch and I get drinks just to catch up, and he tells me that him and Lucette have made the decision to try out ENM (ethical non-monogamy). They've been married for 7 years, have had a bit of a dry spell due to pandemic close proximity, and there's just the general vibe that they want to try new things. I get it! And I'm encouraging. Life is too short for bad sex, I tell him, and he's thankful I'm not judging them. We have a good laugh about it all - particularly the bit about them seeing my profile on Feeld, as they have one too - and after another beer, I go home.

This is probably the part of the movie where the music changes, warning the viewer that some event is looming and possibly dangerous for our protagonist. If only life had such a soundtrack I could hear.

Throughout the summer and into September Mitch and I see more of each other and I take notice of the uptick in chill weekend day drinking and texts. Nothing about it feels off or motivated by anything other than being bored and wanting to hang out with a friend. And because I know about his ENM journey, I think there's the appeal there of getting to speak freely to someone who won't wrinkle their nose and make jokes about bringing pineapples to neighborhood BBQs. In a stunning change of mental pace, I don't overanalyze it. Perhaps this was a mistake.

One morning I wake up a text from Mitch cancelling plans. I'm secretly thrilled - I didn't want to shower that day anyway. But I can also tell something has gone horribly wrong on his end, but he doesn't say what, so I just "yeah, sure, let me know when you're free next" my way out of the conversation.

When we do talk next, he tells me why he cancelled. Lucette cheated on Mitch during a work trip. They'd established rules within their ENM arrangement that she broke. And she broke them loudly, multiple times, and with her iPad still logged in and left on the kitchen counter in full view of Mitch. Horrible words are said, declarations of 'the best sex of her life' are sent to several group chats, pictures are seen. It's bad.

Mitch is unwell. I comfort him as best as I can and he tells me that he and Lucette aren't pulling the divorce lever yet, but he's still heartbroken and scared he's going to lose his marriage. I feel awful for him. I offer to buy him another beer. He shows me the texts he saw. It's officially A Lot.

From that day on, I become his "my wife cheated on me with the guy she told me not to worry about" therapist friend who he can unload on and get sympathetic words in return. I've been imprinted on by the depressed baby bird hatched by infidelity and low self-esteem. It's not the first time, and I'm certain it won't be the last.

Tell me, how's that soundtrack only you, the audience, can hear? I bet it's tense and full of cello.

A few weeks later, I get a head cold. It's not the end of the world but it's annoying. I'm fevered, stuffy, exhausted, and I have not a drop of soup or broth in my home. Mitch sees my Instagram story about being sick and offers to bring me soup. "Aww, that's so nice of you, thank you." "Of course! I'll go get it and be right over." "Awesome! Just text me when you drop it off." Thirty minutes later my doorbell rings. My dogs bark their heads off. I'm a little annoyed. The bell rings again. I see Mitch's car in my driveway. I mutter to myself about why he didn't just leave it on the steps as I go to the door. I look disgusting and I'm flushed with a solid 100.2 fever, but I guess I'm having face time with Mitch now. I open the door and he hands over the soup almost immediately, but with an odd look on his face. I thank him and ask what I owe, but he refuses for me to pay him back. I thank him again. He doesn't make a move to leave. I tell him I'd invite him in but.... *gestures widely to the PJs I've worn for 3 days in a row and the broken capillaries in my nose and the dogs still barking behind the second entryway door* He smiles awkwardly and says it's okay. He still doesn't leave. "So... how are you, Mitch?" His shoulders slump. "I'm not doing great."

Ah. There it is. Mystery solved. My time has been bought with soup and he's lingering to collect on it. So I lean on my door, sniff back a disgusting level of mucus, and brace myself for whatever is about to be said. Turns out, Lucette couldn't stop texting the Best Sex Ever guy and possibly is fixated on him due to some weird aging hot girl nonsense. Mitch tells me he and Lucette are separating. She's sleeping in her home office. The mess got messier. I tell him I'm so incredibly sorry, this is awful, etc etc etc. He stays for 20 minutes to tell me all of this and get as much of a pep talk as I can muster while trying not to sneeze directly in his eyes.

In the interim, I've gotten several strangely loaded texts from Lucette, telling me she's glad Mitch has me and that she knows he values my friendship and advice on things. Alexa, play "She Knows." But I keep things as vague as possible, because I don't want to shove myself even more in the middle. I didn't choose to be imprinted on, but I can choose not to encourage a more permanent bond. Call me a wildlife rehabilitation center.

Being sick takes me out of commission for a while, and I have to reschedule multiple things, including getting beer with Mitch. That doesn't deter him from messaging me of course, but I don't see him for a couple weeks. When I'm feeling better, I tell him we should check out a brewery we've never been to before and we set a day.

This is probably the part when the audience yells as the protagonist not to go. Don't get in the car. Stay home.

Ah, to not be a participant in the narrative.

I get to the brewery and immediately I notice 2 things: 1, it's family Sunday Funday, and 2, the vibes around Mitch are........uncomfy. I turn into a socially anxious motormouth. I can't stop talking about literally everything that doesn't matter, including the child at the table next to us playing a solo game of Uno and the 80's music playlist. I order my beer and finally force myself to chill tf out. Maybe I've picked up on a vibe that has nothing to do with me. Maybe he's just feeling weird. Maybe I'm just insane. All of these options are valid.

Halfway thru our drinks, Mitch brings up the odd texts from Lucette. "I think I know why she was being weird with you." "Oh? Why?" I sip my beer and wait. He says, "So, back when Lucette and I decided to open up our marriage, we had a discussion about who we'd see ourselves dating..."

Hey audience, how's that music crescendo?

I blink. Mitch gestures with his beer. "And obviously, your name was at the top of my list."

And because I'm the definition of smooth, I practically shout, "REALLY???" so loudly 5 people turn around and look at me. Mitch doesn't even look away from me. Instead, he stares deeper into my eyes and asks, "Do you ever see that becoming a possibility?"

Me. Dating Mitch. After months of supporting him through a painful, messy separation that hasn't even really become official. After knowing way too much about his sex life. After all the sad boy memes and depressed 1am texts he's sent. After being forced to read his angry, sexually charged break up poetry in front of him 2 beers in at the bar.

AFTER I HAD TO BORROW $17,000 FROM HIM AND LUCETTE.

I verbally flounder for a painfully long 12 seconds while watching that little girl beat herself with another Uno Reverse card, and finally land on a gentle but firm rejection of the idea. I don't have a chance to mentally process all the messed up parts to this messed up puzzle in the moment but when I get home it starts to click.

They had that conversation in the spring. Around the time that I had to borrow the money in the first place. And while I don't have proof, I can almost guarantee that Lucette vetoed Mitch's suggestion of bringing me into their situation, and now that they're breaking up, he feels like he can take a swing at it (pun? unintended?)

Which means that every single interaction, every single conversation and hang out, every single dollar bill I borrowed is colored with the knowledge I now possess which is that Mitch, for however long, has wanted to fuck me. He's wanted to fuck me so. Goddamn. Bad.

Audience, I bet you're the star at your optometrist's office with all that 20/20 vision. I'm honestly jealous.

No wonder Lucette was sending probing texts with the energy of "I know you know, and now you know I know." No wonder Mitch attached himself to me like a duckling trying to cross a busy road. No wonder both of them were so earnestly checking on me when I first moved back into my house. NO WONDER MY SUBCONSCIOUS MIND HAD BEEN SCREAMING "YOU'RE IN DANGER GIRL" FOR WEEKS.

And before ALL of this, Mitch had organized Thanksgiving at his house since Lucette would be out of town, and one of his friends created a list of what people can bring. I signed up for wine, since it means I don't have to cook. And when this entire thing came to a head, I started to write an "I'm bailing" text to Mitch. But before I could pull that trigger, our mutual friend messaged me to say how happy she is that I'll be there and that she's missed me.

So now, after finding out that Mitch has wanted to get his dick in me for months (if not longer) without even considering the power imbalance of me owing him SEVENTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, I have to pick out a sensible red and white wine and show up at his house at 2pm on Thursday.

Audience. Reader. Friends. I am.... stressed. And in serious debt.

And apparently hot enough to possibly instigate an argument between spouses.

Cue the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving song. This year I'm grateful for autonomy and friends willing to come up with a code word in case I need to escape quickly.

[codenamesazanka]

Warning: Rant, character bashing, lots of opinions

I'm saying it outright. I hate Deku. He is entirely underwhelming as a character, much less as the main character, the shonen protagonist of the series.

It's a 'different' type of dislike, though. I feel like I could've like his character. There's nothing greatly disagreeable about him, he's as inoffensive as can be, he's an optimistic, considerate, and polite boy, he's as plain as he is said to be, and that's fine.

My issue is that he's not the character he's said to be. I, personally, just don't buy that he "possesses a drive to save others that eclipses all common understanding", or that he's super intelligent with great analytical abilities that he actually applies on the battlefield, or, in general, he's as amazing or heroic or compassionate as he's apparently supposed to be. How can he be inspiring if he barely challenges any aspects of the society he lives in. Deku is a super good example of the terrible use of "Tell, Don't Show". We're told about his amazing traits, but he rarely follows through; when we do see hints of it, it's lauded but frankly I think it's typical behavior and (this though is not quite his fault) written so stiffly and awkwardly I'm not convinced.

(Honestly I might even call him a Canon Mary Sue. He has no interesting or distinguishable flaws, unless having a shit for brains attitude is one but that's not acknowledged by the narrative. Breaking bones is not a personality trait. If he has a Hero Complex, it's not even the interesting ones where he fucks things up even more; or carries crippling guilt about circumstances beyond his control; or focuses completely on saving people to the point of rejecting almost all human connections and keeping deadly secrets - which is All Might's big flaw.) (Well fair, he does this in the most recent chapter but did it need to take 300+ chapters? Plus I sense the way it's framed is that it's the radical, but right course of action.)

Say what you want about Villains and redemption/shouldn't be redeemed/too evil to be saved/justice/etc, but I think this 'Incredible Drive To Save' should've included Villains from the start. Why does Deku want to "Save people with a smile on his face"? Assuming it's empathy, he should have felt some towards everyone he encounters, whether it's sensible or not. "Why are you so angry?", "You shouldn't go about things this way", "What caused them to be like this?", "Why is there evil in the world?" even. I'm still fuming over his Mall Encounter with Shigaraki, where Shigaraki pretty much reveals his damage: "All Might acts like there's no one he can't save"; but ultimately Deku goes "Wow, that sure is an opinion."

What kind of inane response is this??? There's little pushback from the narrative either, so this isn't pointed out as a failing of his (because, again, he has no big flaws). And he's supposed to be smart and caring. Yes, he does ask All Might right after the Mall Encounter, "Was there anyone you can't save?"; but essentially the replies he gets is "Don't worry about it" and Deku immediately largely puts it out of his mind "Oh whew, I was about to do some introspection and reflection". There isn't even the daunting, kinda-existential anxiety that people get when they realize it's impossible to save/help everyone - which is something, like, medical workers have to learn to deal with - that sharp sense of the inevitably of death, of loss, failure, guilt. I'm not asking for him to come to the conclusion that everyone should be saved - he could've decided nah, Shigaraki is too ugly to be saved and I would've been fine with that, it's part of the character role and potential development - just that he should've had a conclusion at all.

There are the latest chapters where Deku decides he wants to try saving Shigaraki first (though killing him is still on the table), true. Him wanting to save Shigaraki after seeing AFO merged with him, after seeing The Crying Child - but see, I don't think it qualifies because I think it's the bare minimum about of consideration, the typical response to seeing the body horror of warped, fused flesh, to seeing a small sad little boy. I think it shouldn't require "You look like you needed saving" for a true Hero to consider saving someone. Not for someone who is supposed to be unique and special in this regard.

*

I've complained about this before, but the trouble with Deku was evident from the very beginning.

Again, Deku wants to save people with a smile on his face, and again, I’m assuming it’s empathy. We're shown this on the very first page, as he attempts to protect a friend(?) from bullies, but imo like it felt groundless because who was the kid he was protecting? We never see him again. Did Deku's standing up to Bakugou work, and the kid was saved? Or did they both got beaten up; but afterwards, being the kind boy Deku is supposed to be, he still gets to his feet to help the boy, to apologize for failing.

But more significantly, this theme of saving was overshadowed immediately by his focus on superpowers - that he was quirkless. Next page, his focus was on ‘Woah, giant villain and superpowers!’ Instead of like. Helping people. (Though I chalk this up to early installment weirdness)

What should’ve happened if the theme was ‘SAVE PEOPLE’ Is something like: The opening sentence being “People are not born equal. This is the harsh truth I learned when I was four. I knew that... but despite my powerless, I still wanted to help. That was my first and last setback.” And the panels/images themselves (of little Katsuki and his friends) implies that people on the world thinks you need power to help people.

When he saw the villain attack on way to school, Deku can be wow’ed by the spectacle! But then he notices a kid crying and offers to help find his mom. He can be interrupted by a Hero saying he (the hero) will take over, he can find the mom and realize he’s late for school (and so that shows he’s willing to sacrifice something of his to help others! Because of his altruistic nature!). A scene like that, of him helping the lost kid, we would know that he wants to help *anyone*. At school, though, he still gets bullied for not having powers. So he’s mulling over that when he meets All Might, and asks the question.

It proceeds as usual for the next few events: When the sludge monster attacks Katsuki, he can still go gawk at the scene. He can still hesitate. In canon, it's only when he realized the victim was his friend that he jumps into action, which I thinks undermines the theme of 'wanting to save indiscriminately'. IMO, it would've been better that Deku sees it’s his friend, but he still hesitates. “There’s nothing I can do right? All Might himself said so...” But when he sees Katsuki’s *face* of fear, he runs to help. Instead of seeming like he helps only because he realizes it’s his friend, he helps because he feels too deeply about trying to save Katsuki.

Admittedly these are minor, personal critiques; but all in all, the first chapter fails to establish Deku is the willpowered, champion of wanting to save people he's supposed to be.

--Which is fine, if it's acknowledged in the story later, that maybe he wasn't the True Blue Hero he's supposed to be at first, but he can change and still become one. But it's not - Deku is apparently special, without anything special to show for it.

*

I read the one-shot "My Hero" - the prototype for this series - that Horikoshi published years ago, before My Hero Academia was created. I also found it underwhelming, but that was due to personal tastes (I wanted more explosions and dumb violence); as a story on it's own merit, the logic and progression was solid.

The Villains Heroes fought were 'Aberrations' - true inhuman monsters that showed no sentience that would eat people - so the focus could be solely on saving humans. The main character - Jack Midoriya - his original goal was less 'save people' and more 'become a cool hero', before learning that saving people is what true heroism is about, hero license unneeded. (Moreover, he really did 'save' someone without being a hero - by working hard, he was preventing the company from becoming ruined completely, which the CEO had confessed and thanked him for. )

This version of Midoriya didn't exactly needed deep empathy or compassion for that, just a strong willpower, which he effectively demonstrated by chasing after a childhood dream even as an adult salaryman in a tanking company, even though he had anemia and no training and no license. He insisted on this, to the point of getting hurt by being dumb, of being petty over someone dissing the Hero who inspired him in the first place, of skipping out of work and going vigilante. Not the most upstanding guy, but he came through in the relevant themes of the story, in being the character the story needed him to be.

Jack Midoriya was an unimpressive, weird-looking, weak, pitiful, somewhat selfish, awkward salaryman with no great aspects that 'eclipses all common understanding'. But he was a far stronger character than his incarnation Izuku Midoriya could ever be (so far).

[katblu42]

Tie Me to the Moon

Installment 4 (of 5) in my Whump Wheel spinning experiment. This spin was for John and gave me Cuddling For Comfort and Cemetery.

It is another Young Tracys fic, but it requires some WARNINGS as it deals with grief/mourning, funerals and of course a cemetery. I'm also tagging for social anxiety, sensory overload and panic attack, although I'm not entirely sure exactly what I'm putting John through. If there's any additional warning or tag I need please let me know (or if these ones don't hit the mark).

Possibly more angst than whump.

The day started early. Scott had spoken with John and Virgil the night before about how much he was relying on them both to help get Alan and Gordon ready, since Grandma and Dad would both have a lot on their plate. So, John had set the alarm for 6am to give them time to wake themselves up before tackling the tinies.

By 9am all five boys were awake and fed and dressed in their Sunday best, shoes shined and hair combed awaiting final inspection before the cars arrived to take them to the church. Normally it would have been Dad who inspected the troops before such an important occasion but, like many other things over the last week or so, today the job was taken on by Scott. He left no stray hair or speck of lint unscrutinised, while their father was barely able to do more than glance at his boys and give Scott a pat on the shoulder as he passed on his way out the front door.

Scott decided it would be best if he went in the lead car with Dad. It was the one that had been fitted with the kiddie seats for Gordon and Alan, and Scott could sit between them and keep them settled. That left John and Virgil to ride in the second car with Grandma. The car trip was mostly silent, but Grandma told them they both looked very smart and did her best to smile despite clear indications she was holding back more tears.

As they neared the church it was impossible not to notice the large number of parked vehicles, some still offloading passengers. John let out a large sigh as their car pulled up in front of the chapel. The soft murmurings and general bustle of the gathering crowd penetrated their insulated little bubble even before the driver opened the door to let Grandma out. Virgil waited until he’d caught John’s eye and received a nod before opening his door so both boys could exit on the same side of the car.

The kindly young driver from the funeral home seemed to be keeping most of the well-meaning mourners at bay as the family gathered and were solemnly led into the church and ushered to the front pew. John tried to focus on the flowers, the quiet organ music, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through stained glass rather than the coffins or even the photos of Mom and Grandpa, and definitely not the endless stream of people filling the rows of seats behind them. It was a slightly tight fit getting all seven of them in the one pew, even with Alan on Dad’s (and later Scott’s) lap, but John was glad of the warm press of Virgil on his left and Gordon on his right.

The service was a simple, no-frills affair with the Minister officiating, but friends and family doing most of the talking. John listened through Dad and Grandma retelling stories he’d heard before, but there were little details revealed that he had never known. The anecdotes shared by the others who stepped up to the pulpit microphone – one of Grandpa’s farming neighbours, and an old friend of Mom’s from school – almost felt like stories about other people. It didn’t feel like they were talking about the people John had lost.

For John losing Grandpa was like a constellation of stars going missing from the night sky. It was Grandpa that had told him people are all made of the same stuff as the stars. He had been a quiet, watchful presence in his life, providing light and joy whenever he looked up and saw that twinkle in Grandpa’s eye. Like Ursa Major and Polaris, Grandpa was always there guiding him, giving direction when needed, but never wanting to overstep or overshadow his parents. Not the brightest light in his orbit, but an important, comforting presence that meant John always knew his place in the world.

Mom had been the sun at the centre of his life, his family, his everything. Without her all the light and warmth was gone from the world. Instead of a regular (though slightly wonky) orbit his world now felt like it was tumbling through space and gravity was constantly shifting. One moment he was too heavy to move and the next he was so light might be flung out into space. Night and day and seasons, years and everything he measured his life by had been connected to his Mom – waking him and tucking him into bed, making sure he dressed warm enough or wore sunscreen or had his raincoat, keeping track of birthdays and holidays and school excursion days were all her.

During the service no one spoke of Mom and Grandpa like that.

There was music. One of Mom’s favourite piano pieces. Virgil had wanted to be able to play it today, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to even sit at the piano, much less play at all since the accident. So a recording had been found and it was played as a backing track to the slideshow that flickered through image after image of happy memories telling part of two life stories.

There were prayers. Reassuring words from the minister about heaven and God’s love, and the love we should all share with each other. John wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about heaven, or God calling Mom and Grandpa home to his kingdom.

There was a poem read out by one of Mom’s work colleagues. It was something about not crying or being sad because they were gone, but being happy because they had lived. Many of the people in the room were obviously ignoring the advice – his immediate family included. There were a good many wet handkerchiefs and tissues in hands, a great deal of suppressed sobs and eye rubbing, and a few sleeves swiped across cheeks before the service was over.

Scott and Dad were among the pall bearers who carried the coffins out of the church and onto the waiting machinery that would take care of their final movements. John and his brothers and Grandma were the first of the mourners to follow in the sombre procession. Only a small number of people were permitted to follow the hovering gurneys across the grass and through the little cemetery to the waiting square-sided pits. Just family and a few close friends to witness the way the machinery slowly and smoothly lowered each coffin down into the earth, hear the minister recite the final ritual words, and each place a flower or a sprinkling of dirt atop the coffins in a last goodbye.

The rest of the large crowd had been encouraged to make their way into the Sunday School hall where the wake was to take place. Refreshments had been generously laid out on the tables inside. More photographs of both lost loved ones were on display throughout the room, along with so many more flowers and a large number of cards. But many of the people in attendance that day were still milling about outside the church buildings when John and his family returned through the cemetery for the wake.

John’s feet dragged as he approached the gentle hubbub of mingling friendly faces with sympathetic expressions. He could pick out people he knew well if he let himself concentrate, but the sheer number of individuals he was heading towards was a little overwhelming. They didn’t make it inside the hall before the onslaught began. Almost everyone wanted to say something, speak of sympathy, tell a story, offer “any help you need.” So many wanted to reach out, hold a hand or squeeze an arm, some came in for full-on hugs, cheek kisses and loud, teary exclamations of how sad it all was.

John lost his Dad and Grandma to the throng faster than he thought possible, but before he could be swept up in it himself he was thrown a lifeline. There was a familiar presence by his side, a brush of hand against hand, or specifically pinky against pinky – a request and an offer. John grabbed hold of Virgil’s hand and held fast, tethering himself to his brother like an anchor.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened or how long it had taken, but eventually they all made it inside the Sunday School hall. John was only aware of Virgil’s hand in his, the rest was a blur of faces, voices, bodies. Virgil dealt with anyone who stopped them to offer their personal condolences, listening to what they had to say and responding politely but managing to keep the interactions brief and shielding John from most of the attention. Somehow they made their way to a cluster of chairs where Grandma and Dad were seated, Alan in his father’s lap, still accepting condolences from well-wisher after well-wisher.

John was aware of sweat beading on his forehead as Virgil told him to take a seat next to Grandma for a bit, and then his brother disappeared into the crowd to go and fetch Grandma a cup of tea. He wiped sweaty palms on his trousers as he tried to look around the room. His eyes fell on Scott standing a few feet away, taking all the sympathetic social interactions in his stride, nodding, smiling, shaking hands, accepting embraces.

John’s mouth was dry and he wondered if he could make it across the room to grab a drink from the trestle table against the wall, but there was a sea of bodies he’d have to negotiate in between. For a moment his vision blurred and the vague images of people swam in a dizzying fashion before he could find something to focus on. Alan had obviously grown tired of the hair ruffling and cheek pinching and wriggled free of his Dad’s grasp, and was now trying to run through the small gaps between grown up pairs of legs. Gordon was keeping an eye on him – in between snaffling more cakes and cookies from the food table. John watched the terrible two until they were obscured by too many featureless figures.

Despite the late-winter-cool of the day, the church hall felt uncomfortably warm. The large space with its vaulted ceiling, tall, wide windows and polished wooden floorboards felt dark and gloomy and so very crowded. And the non-stop undercurrent of murmuring voices appeared to build in an unbearable crescendo John could not shut out. Too many bodies, too many voices, too much, too close . . . he needed space, he needed air, he had to get out!

Virgil saw his brother get up and hurry a little unsteadily to the exit as he came back with Grandma’s tea. He tried to keep an eye on the red-head so he could follow, but he had to excuse himself to Grandma and Dad, make his way over to Scott, politely interrupt the conversation and whisper in his big brother’s ear.

“John’s bolted. I’m going after him.”

Scott acknowledged with a nod as his eyes darted to the door, already closed again after John’s escape. Virgil wasted no more time in following, but once outside it took him a moment to figure out which direction John had taken.

John had no particular destination in mind, he just needed to get away. His feet carried him across the gravel driveway and through the grass without him registering the change of surface. He ran through the little cemetery without seeing the tombstones he passed, slowing only when he approached the boundary marked with a low stone wall before a neat, tall hedge. Unable to go any farther he turned and wobbled dizzily. His vision narrowed leaving dull blurred impressions of light and shadow. He heard nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, and he sank down to the ground, sitting heavily, knees bent and pulled up towards his chest. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed and slammed his hands over his ears, trying to block it all out.

Virgil approached slowly, but without trying to hide the sound of his footsteps. He lowered himself to sit facing John, resisting the strong urge to reach out and touch him. Seeing his brother in such distress clawed at his heart. He couldn’t let him struggle through this alone.

“John?” He kept his voice quiet and hoped he could be heard despite the hands staying firmly pressed against ears. “I’m here with you. Just me. No one else is around.”

There was no noticeable response.

“If you can hear me, I need you to try and slow your breathing down a bit, John. Deep breath in,“ and Virgil inhaled, “and out nice and slow.” Virgil waited for a second, watching John’s shallow, ragged breathing for any change. “In,” another inhaled breath, “and out.”

As Virgil continued repeating the instruction like a mantra John’s breathing gradually began to even out into slower, deeper, more controlled breaths. He wasn’t sure, but he thought John’s vice-like grip over his ears might be relaxing a little too.

“You’re doing great, John. Keep focusing on your breathing. Keep listening. Hear the breeze whispering through the leaves? Did you hear those birds?”

John did hear the cry of a bird overhead, and an answering call a little farther away as his hands drifted away from his head. As he lowered them to limply rest on the ground beside him he heard a gentle gust of wind rustle the hedges, and he registered that it did indeed sound a bit like a whisper.

“The sun’s broken free of the clouds. Can you feel it on your face, John? Can you feel the wind in your hair? You do realise there’s dirt and leaves beneath your fingertips, right?”

John turned his focus where his brother’s voice directed it, feeling the warmth on the left side of his face, and the breeze toying with his hair. There was indeed leaf litter and slightly damp dirt beneath his flexing fingers.

“If you’re ready to open your eyes you’ll see the moon’s out. I like the way the moon looks in the day. Against the blue of the sky the shadows make it look almost see-through.”

Translucent. That would have been a better word for what Virgil was trying to say. The thought flitted through John’s mind as he let his eyes drift open and scan the sky until they latched onto the gibbous moon framed by scattered cumulous clouds. He was also aware there was irony in the way his brother was effectively using the moon to anchor him, to bring him back to earth and ground him in the here and now.

Virgil had stopped talking, leaving the wind and occasional twitters and cries of the birds to fill the silence as John watched the clouds dance around the moon. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him almost as tangibly as he could feel the damp earth he was sitting on and the cool stone of the wall at his back. Now feeling much calmer he took a deep breath and brought his gaze down from the sky to meet the concern and compassion contained in those warm, brown eyes.

“Welcome back.” A hint of a smile played across Virgil’s face as he spoke.

A quiet moment stretched between them. No words spoken, but information passing from brother to brother through eye contact alone.

Content that John was no longer caught in a spiral he couldn’t escape on his own, Virgil glanced over his shoulder towards the Sunday School hall.

“I should go back, but you can stay here if you want. I’ll come and find you when it’s time to go. Just don’t wander off or anything.”

John didn’t speak as he chanced his own glance back toward the ongoing wake. Then, as Virgil made a move to get up and leave, John reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay. Please?”

Virgil stopped and stared first at the fingers digging into his wrist, then into pleading, desperate aquamarine. He simply nodded and adjusted his position so he was sitting next to John, their shoulders touching. John loosened his grip on Virgil’s wrist but didn’t let go, so John’s arm looped around his knees and Virgil’s arm crossed his body to keep the connection. There was an almost imperceptible hesitation, but then simultaneously John leaned in towards his brother and Virgil wrapped his arm around John, pulling them into a secure embrace.

John finally let go of Virgil’s wrist, bringing his arm in close, grabbing a fistful of Virgil’s suit jacket and snuggling closer into his brother’s chest. This enabled Virgil to employ both arms in the hug. John rarely cuddled up like this with anyone, but all the times he could remember doing so were with Mom. His next intake of breath hitched at the realisation, and Virgil held a little tighter. The threat of tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he was grateful that, while not the same as a cuddle from Mom, he was still able to find this level of safety and comfort in the arms of someone who loved him.

“I want her back,” he sobbed, letting the tears flow and drip onto Virgil’s jacket.

“Yeah. Me too.”

John heard the tears in Virgil’s voice, but he already knew his brother felt the same absence in their hug.

Neither boy could say how long they stayed out there, huddled together, holding tight while hot tears streaked their cheeks. Time may as well have stood still for all it mattered. Nothing else was important, just the feeling that this moment, however sad, was there’s alone to share until Scott came and found them to tell them it was time to go home.

[loquaciousquark]

Hi! I think I remember you posting about "making" your own computer? I'm sorry to bother you with something like this, but was it difficult? Would you say you have to know a lot about how computers work to do it? Thanks!

Heck yeah!!! Oh man!! Gosh guys can I talk to you about building computers and how EVERYONE willing to do some basic googling is almost certainly capable of this I promise?

Welcome to:

Okay okay okay so let me spin you a li’l yarn: I was in optometry school in 2010-2011ish and I had been living up to now on prebuilts, mostly laptops, but DA2 was recently out and gosh darn it I wanted something I could play a proper game on. A friend of mine had a 10yo daughter who wanted to build a computer herself, and he told me if I’d buy the parts, he’d walk both of us through how to do it (what really happened was the 10yo built my first computer and I watched and brought drinks, so–no, I wouldn’t say you have to know a lot about how computers work to do it!).

The physical requirements are some basic manual dexterity & arm strength (you gotta be able to manipulate some tiny things and put some pressure on some connections) and you will most likely need to lift up to 15 pounds, although you can limit that if you go for smaller components. The ability to bend forward and twist and reach will also probably be necessary, although some careful planning can also likely mitigate that.

I think I have pictures of the actual build process somewhere, but regardless, it resulted in this bad boy that served me well for about nine years. I was shocked to see how easy it was to put together, honestly; if you can follow a Lego assembly book, you can put a computer together. With tools like PCPartPicker that have built-in compatibility checks to make sure all your pieces fit, it’s a piece of cake to put together a parts list that you can feel really good about. You just pick whether you want your motherboard to come with fancy lights or not (hint: rgb is unironically cool & i’ll fight anyone who says otherwise).

In the end, you’ll need a set of basic components. You’ll need:

A case to put all the pieces in

A motherboard, the circuit board of the computer that connects everything, basically the heart of the computer

A CPU, the brain of the computer that determines processing power, or basically how fast it can do math and direct traffic

a CPU cooling system, which can be either mechanical fans or liquid cooling, gotta keep that baby chill; may or may not come packaged with the CPU depending on what you get

A graphics card (aka GPU), the thing that makes video games look pretty (and what will probably be the single most expensive item in the build depending on how good you go)

RAM, a short-term memory processing component that comes in different amounts (4gb, 8gb, 16gb, 32gb, 64gb if you’re a madman) depending on how fast you need your short-term memory to work. Good RAM allows you to do things like open a bunch of Chrome tabs at once, run Photoshop at the same time you’re listening to youtube videos, or process the demand of loading up a host of enemies in Mass Effect. Most everyone these days can get by just fine with 16gb of RAM, which is what I have.

a hard drive (or the new, faster, more expensive version, a solid state drive) which functions as your long-term storage bins. This is where you save documents, images, and install your programs. These come in tons of sizes–the larger your files are, the more storage space you’ll want. I always put at least a terabyte of storage in my builds.

a power supply unit or PSU, which gives the electrical juice for everything to run

a monitor (the more hertz, the smoother the video will be - you’ll want either 60hz or 144hz depending on how much your number of frames-per-second matter to you)

a keyboard and mouse

speakers or headphones or both!

Optional addons:

RGB lighting for everything :O

an optical drive (aka something to put DVDs, Blurays, or other physical CD disks into)

fancy liquid cooling pipes

additional case fans; most cases come with adequate fans, but if you are using the computer in a room with poor ventilation or you find that certain components are running hot, you can install additional fans

coincidentally you can also get fans with RGB lighting too

cable extenders when you are going for a specific color scheme

So it can definitely all look overwhelming at first, but when you start to look at how everything is laid out, you’ll notice some trends. Look at these motherboards, for example.

These are just four random motherboards I pulled off Newegg, a commonly used computer parts purchasing site. Sure, the colors are a bit different, but the layout between them…is all basically the same! Here, I’ll draw it out.

In just about every modern motherboard you buy, this will be the rough layout. Everything else is window dressing–what kind of GPU you get, what kind of CPU you get, whether your RAM lights up cool colors or not. Your motherboard will ALWAYS include a map that has extensive descriptions of what each connection does.

Much, much, much more under the jump!

Most of these you won’t even need!

There are always some compatibility things to consider–as I mentioned, PCPartPicker can help you figure out a lot of these–but the biggest one to care about is the CPU. There are two major companies that make CPUs, AMD and Intel. They both have pros and cons on the chips they make, but right now, AMD makes a family of CPUs called Ryzen that both outperform and are cheaper than Intel’s current leading brands, the i7 and i9 lines. Intel was king of the hill for a long time, though, and their CPUs are still really good quality, so some people still go with them over the cheaper alternatives for now. (There are some reports of black screens with the new Ryzen lines, but as I’ve never owned one, I can’t personally speak to how common that is.)

Regardless, once you pick which family of CPUs you want to go with, AMD or Intel, you just have to pick an Intel-friendly or AMD-friendly motherboard. This is always specified in the description of the motherboard. I own the Asus z370 motherboard, so here’s what it says in the description for CPU:

Anyway, once you’ve picked all your parts and had everything shipped to you, it’s literally just a plug-n-play, step by step until everything’s plugged in. Your motherboard manual will also include recommended order of installations, too, and often how to install them.

It helps to remember that the manufacturers of all these parts understand that they are expensive, and they really DON’T want to make them hard to install! Broken or difficult pieces during installation means that the customer is upset, and upset customers ask for refunds and lose brand loyalty.

It also helps to understand that a lot of these connections are based on certain standards–I didn’t realize until I was rebuilding my current machine that these holes set for screws really do work with just about everything you get, as long as it’s the same generation, because motherboard manufactures WANT you to have the flexibility to go any attachment brand you like and still be able to use their board to mount them. 

So, you pick your case and open it up, and you put the motherboard down on top of all the little screw holes until they match, and then you screw all the screws down firmly.

Old rig, partially disassembled:

New, in approximately same state:

(One of the reasons I went with this larger white case than a smaller, slim case like my old one, is because this nicer case has what’s called “cable management;” that means there’s a built-in back area behind the motherboard where all my cables can be jammed without messing up the “aesthetic” of the glass window. My first build obviously did not have that, as seen in that first picture at the top of this post, so I had to just jam my cables wherever I could fit them so that the sides would close, haha.)

Anyway, you can see that the motherboard is just screwed in where it should be, and my CPU is already installed where it should be. I haven’t mounted the cooler for it yet because I needed to clean off the old thermal paste and install new thermal paste before doing so. My two sticks of RAM are also mounted in the top right in the motherboard’s recommended configuration & locations for two sticks (vs. one, vs. four).

Then, with the cooler in place, it looked like this:

So the cooler I have is liquid cooling in a closed system (the thick black tubes running right to left) which is attached to a fan that mounts in place of the white fan on the left from the previous picture. It was as simple as unscrewing the old fan and putting the new one in its place. I think I even used the same screws. The fan is powered by that thin cable running along the top of the case that plugs into a little socket on the motherboard labeled “CPU Fan.” It was as simple as just finding the right plug; it doesn’t even have directionality, just a three-pin socket, so it doesn’t even matter which way you plug.

Already it’s looking like a proper computer! And because this case has cable management, I took a picture of what it currently looked like from the backside.

This case is cool because it has a neat set of connectors mounted on the back of this little hideaway to connect the case fans. I could have run the white fan cables through to the front of the motherboard for them to get power/marching orders, but it was cleaner aesthetically to attach them here in the back. Nothing wrong with connecting them on the front, though–that’s what I did in my original build!

You also might have noticed I’ve mounted the PSU in that white case by now as well. It’s the large black and red box in the bottom corner, seen best from behind. The white case comes with what’s called a PSU shroud, which just means there’s a fancy white cover over it to keep the ~aesthetic~ when viewed from the front side.

The next step is to mount the graphics card!

There’s instructions in your manual as to exactly how these mount, but it really and truly is just removing the dust cover brackets where you need to, and then a delicate plug & play, pushing that big guy in until you hear the click! (Click good, snap bad. Haha. I’ve changed out these cards several dozen times and never broken one, though!)

You can also see the ugly red-tipped cables plugged into the GPU and the motherboard, both on the right side. These come from the Power Supply Unit (they are all permanently connected in most brands, and look basically like a squid’s tentacles–once you have your items mounted onto the motherboard, you just look for the connector from the PSU with the right number of pins and plug it in!)

This guy is the worst. He is fat and hard to maneuver and always requires SO MUCH FORCE to click into this delicate bendy board and your heart will ALWAYS be in your throat as your fingers shake from how hard you’re having to push to sink it, and it will ALWAYS eventually go in but you’ll hate every second of the doing. I hate you, 24-pin EATX. I hate you so much.)

The next thing I did was mount my optical drive (because yes, I still own one), my hard drive, and my solid state drive.

The hard drive and SSD both serve the same purpose (long-term data storage), but the SSD is much faster and uses newer technology. It’s also more expensive for the amount of storage you get, so I have a 256gb SSD that holds my operating system, my heavily-used programs like Firefox and Photoshop & Premiere, and one or two video games I play the most that I would like to load as fast as possible. This is the drive that can allow me to restart my whole system in less than five seconds.

The hard drive is 1.75 terabytes and holds everything else: fics, pictures, videos, music, other games, etc.They mount onto the racks with pre-drilled screws. The optical drive just slides into the socket snugly until it hits the back of the rack.

All of these use a standard connector called a SATA cable which runs between the back of the drive to a SATA socket on the motherboard. Most motherboards come with at LEAST six or seven of these connector slots, and some come with more. They look like this:

and are pretty universal. Any kind of extra storage or drive you want to add to your computer will probably connect with a SATA cable. I think my motherboard, my SSD & HD, and my case purchases all came with a pack of loose SATA cables of different lengths to be used for whatever I wanted.

The rack each drive is mounted to came installed with the case and pre-drilled with screw holes (and provided screws) for attaching either the HD or SSD in every slot. Because this case is all about aesthetic, it also comes with two vertical SSD mounts on the back of the case if you wanted to remove the right-side rack altogether, but as I mentioned, I have the optical drive, so I couldn’t go with that option.

So now we have all the major pieces mounted! The last set of connections are a collection of small fiddly pieces that all plug in roughly the same area and do things like light up the case’s LED, provide that startup beep, connect the USB sockets on the case’s front to power, etc. This is by far the section that takes me the longest because I guarantee I will ALWAYS plug at least two into the wrong socket and not have a beep, or my audio won’t work or something until I go back and reconnect them.

The next thing was to plug in my monitors and…see what happened when we hit the power button! (Monitor connections just plug directly into your graphics card in the back of the case.) And here’s what happened!

So it turned out when I was connecting my SSD (which has my OS on it), I was pushing on the little connector while sitting on the back side of the case. I thought I had the thing in the socket, but what I’d actually done was jam the connector just under the lip of the motherboard (that is, not connected to anything at all, just hanging in open space). Once I realized, though, it was an easy fix!

The last thing I wanted to do to complete the clean white look I wanted was to replace those UGHLY red PSU cables with what are called “cable extenders.” I bought some white ones on Amazon; because most PSUs’ cables are permanently attached at the box, you plug your cable extenders into the other end and then feed them through the case, so that’s the only portion visible. The ugly PSU cables are still there at the other end of the white cables, just hidden in the cable management area behind the motherboard.

I spent some time fixing up the cables to curve exactly how I wanted them to, then picked my LED RGB colors and closed up the open side with the glass wall. All that was left was to plug in my mouse/keyboard/speakers/headphones/mic/webcam, etc., and we were done!

Ta-daaaa!

The first build I did, the one in the blue & black case, took us about two days due to some unexpected problems. First, we were trying to salvage an old CPU from my HP prebuilt to save a little money. Unfortunately, they used basically no thermal paste to connect it to its fan, and when we were trying to get the fan off, it actually tore the CPU out of its socket and bent a bunch of its pins. I ended up going to Best Buy or something and getting a replacement off the shelf.

The other issue I had was that I foolishly didn’t back up my files, and lost a bunch of them in the rebuild (including my Hawke’s original run through the DA2 game :( :( :( ) Always back up your files before ever going in and messing with your case!

Over the years I replaced a bunch of components in it, which is why it lasted me so long, but the transfer into the new case only took me about three hours, and that was with a bunch of breaks throughout. I probably could have done it faster if I hadn’t wanted to savor it, haha. The cable management for the backless desk took a lot longer, though! (…and a LOT of zip ties.)

I do set my new build on a small glass stand (again, from Amazon) because Hamlet’s pretty sheddy and I wanted to keep airflow as good as possible. I’m limited on how many case fans I can install since I have the optical drive rack taking up a lot of space on the right, but I could install new fans on top if I wanted. My temperatures are great, though (I monitor with CoreTemp & GPUTemp, as well as my motherboard’s built-in temp monitoring software), so I don’t need to unless I decide I need more RGB.

Anything I might want to add, I run through PCPartPicker to make sure it’ll fit what I already have. For example, my parts list looks like this (full view and complete parts list available at this link): 

ANYWAY.

If you are patient, if you can fit small Lego-like pieces in labeled sockets, and you are a decent googler, you can build your own PC. It’s really, really hard to do serious damage to components nowadays, even if you plug something in wrong. There’s a bunch of resources, though, and I’d recommend the following places to start:

newegg.com - parts for sale, getcher parts here

pcpartpicker.com - put your list of components together, and it’ll flag any compatibility issues or known problems

https://www.reddit.com/r/buildapc/ - great starting point for new builders, tons of advice and how-to’s for every step of the process, and a decently responsive community to help troubleshoot any issues you might have

And I obviously love doing this kind of thing, so if there’s anything I can help with, I’m more than happy to try! Just let me know, and I hope this was helpful!

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 12

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 12)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: While the assassin makes another attempt on Roman's life, the necromancers find help from an unexpected source--and an all too brief reunion between Logan and Roman has some disturbing results.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: None really, not this time.

Told you this one would come faster. XD It's bigger than most, because the next one is gonna be a whopper--and also, the next installment will be the last! But fear not: I'm already planning a sequel.

...and tbh, I can't stop writing these adorable jerks so you'll get lots more stories outta me. :P

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1022, A.A.

“Pass the glue?”

Logan blinked, slowly looking up from his jacket to gradually focus on Roman's face. Watching him rise from something that had swallowed his whole attention was hopelessly adorable—a thing he could never tell Logan to his face, but could never hide the smile that crept across his face when he watched Logan surface like a pearl diver.

He saw the moment Logan's face shifted, the moment he finally returned to reality. Scanning the craft supplies scattered on the riverbank around them, he located the glue pot and passed it to Roman with a curious frown.

“What are you gluing?” he asked.

Roman held up the white mask he'd selected to go with his costume for the final night of the Festival that Logan had invited him to.

“Feathers! I want to be one of those things you showed me in the graveyard—the creatures etched on the one tombstone?”

“Angels.” Logan reminded him. “You know their wings go on their back, not their face.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I know that, Starlight. I can't exactly get a pair of wings for my costume on such short notice, though, so I...Logan?”

Roman set his mask down, scooting closer to the other boy with a cold lick of concern in his belly. Logan was staring at him with an intensity that made him want to squirm, and his face had gone completely ashen.

“What's wrong?” Roman asked, reaching for his hand. “Logan, are you all right?”

Logan blinked, drawing a trembling breath before briskly shaking his head as if to clear it.

“I—yes, I am fine. I just...” He trailed off, and that look was on Roman again.

“Why did you call me Starlight?”

Roman couldn't stop himself from frowning, confused. Gesturing to the jacket in Logan's lap, he shrugged.

“The beads you're sewing onto it—it looks like the night sky. It's—it's just a nickname, like Specs. I won't use it anymore if it bothers you.”

“No,” Logan insisted, “it is perfectly acceptable, it's just...it surprised me, that's all. Starlight is actually the name I use for the Festival. As I told you, we forsake our identities at the celebration, so we all use different names. Mine is—is Starlight.”

Roman watched Logan blink, and would have accused Logan of lying except that Logan never lied. He took things too literally, he was just...not the kind of person who did it. Not with Roman, at least. So if he said he was fine...

So why did he look like his whole world had been shaken?

“...Muse.” Roman spoke before he could think about it.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Muse.” he repeated, feeling confident about the decision. “That'll be my name for the evening. Muse.”

Logan just stared at him for a long moment before huffing, shaking his head as he scooted across the grass until he was leaning against Roman's side, shoulder pressed to Roman's arm.

“You're not required to do it. You're not part of the tribe.” Logan pointed out.

“It's your tribe, though—and I don't want to be disrespectful.” Roman insisted, reaching for the bag of feathers Logan had brought for their costume work. “Besides, I...I like it. I understand it. It's all to make the dead feel less alone, isn't it? I want to help.”

Roman focused very hard on picking the feathers he wanted to glue to his mask...and tried not to pay attention to the way Logan's head tipped to rest against his shoulder and just stayed that way for a very long time.

**********

1033, A.A.

“So that's how you did it—this is a problem.”

Roman blinked, shaking his head. He hadn't lost consciousness, he was certain of it.

...well, relatively certain.

Glancing around, Roman realized he was in his father's bedchamber, held fast by a palace guard on either side. He tried to tug free, but they held him fast, staring straight ahead with glassy, unfocused eyes and blank expressions.

“Don't bother—I've been rotating soldiers through dungeon detail for years. Nearly all of them are mine now.”

Roman's chest seized with cold, cloying horror and disbelief. He could feel warmth in the hands that held him, see their chests rising and falling with breath...

He turned to the man standing before him—salt and pepper hair and overly tanned features, with piercing blue eyes Roman was starting to realize he should have known on sight.

Colonel Mori—if only he'd remembered before this moment...

“The same curse you used on my father, I take it?” he asked, proud of how level his voice came out, clear and firm.

“Something like that.” Mori replied, idly tossing a familiar ring into the air, catching it, and repeating the action with casual thoughtlessness. “It's always been a specialty of mine—generational curses. You only have to curse a single man, and an entire bloodline or brotherhood will fall...would, at least,

if not for you and that idiot progeny of mine.”

Roman wasn't aware that he'd lunged until he had one guard's arm around his throat to hold him back. He'd actually slipped free, and found it hard to breathe until he consciously stopped trying to wrestle free of his captors.

“Logan is not an idiot.” he snarled. “He's stronger than all of us—he's the best man I have ever known.”

And just like that, he was aware of all the memories that infernal talisman had been holding back—the stolen moments, the beauty of learning new things about Logan's people...the purity of that young love that had been stolen from him.

He thought of Logan now, that lean and handsome face hardened by ten years of imprisonment...and how it opened up to him the night before, how Logan tucked against him in his sleep and clung to every touch like it would be taken away from him, just as he had when they first met...

Mori's hands were suddenly on him, gripping his chin and yanking his hair until Roman was staring directly into his eyes.

“Logan Crofter is a good man—and that is his downfall.” Mori spat as his eyes began to glow with an unholy orange light. “Good men have too many rules and too many weaknesses.”

Roman tried to shake his head, but couldn't fend off the impossible grip of the necromancer before him, the light of his gaze causing a slow, dull throb through his skull.

“Decent men have rules to keep them decent. Evil men like you have rules so they can revel in breaking them.” Roman replied flatly. “Good men don't need rules. They simply choose and act.”

The pain in his head grew, forcing Roman to close his eyes—but the light was still there, behind his lids and in his brain, turning the dull throb into a burn.

“So I'm looking forward, Colonel, to watching you face a good man with no rules—and nothing to lose.”

Mori's laughter was grating in his ears as Roman slowly began to lose the ability to think coherently.

“He has one thing, Your Highness...he has you. And I'm going to make sure he comes to find you so I can get what I want: the soul of another Lazari.”

There was some shuffling, a voice—and Roman's blood ran cold as he hung helpless in the grip of a guard and lost his hold on reality.

“Remy Somnum! Bring me Lord Janus. It's high time I added his life to my collection.”

“Yes, Master.”

********** 1023, A.A.

“You're certain this is where it is?”

Roman nodded as he finally opened the padlock on the door of the long abandoned storeroom, deeep in the bowels of the palace dungeons. “The locator spell Remus gave me works. He knows more about magic than half the court mages, even if he can't use it.”

“Picking locks as well.” Logan observed with a raised eyebrow.

Glancing over his shoulder at Logan, Roman just grinned at his expression.

“Remus didn't teach me that.” he declared, pushing the door open and ushering Logan in ahead of him. “If I'm going to be king one day, I shan't rely on anyone else to rescue me—what if I have to break free of some prison or shackles?”

Logan stepped into the room ahead of him, but immediately stopped and turned to face him, looking at Roman with blue eyes that glittered with something Roman couldn't name, something that made it hard to breathe.

It happened so fast he almost couldn't process it—Logan's hands in his tunic, the sudden feel of warmth crowding his front...

The soft, firm, smacking press of a kiss to his mouth that made his heart, and the rest of the world, stop.

For long moments, they just stared at each other, Logan seemingly reeling as much as Logan was.

“I...I am—I'm—apologies.” Logan stammered, trying to busy himself with straightening his tie instead of holding onto Roman's tunic. “I did not mean...that is to say—I just—your intellectual moments, they just—you're so—and I--”

Roman snatched up Logan's hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. He could feel Logan trembling, and Roman felt his heart tremble in sync with it.

“Me, too, Starlight.”

For a second they just stood there, Logan's hand in his, and Roman's heart...

He had never, not once in his short fourteen years of life, ever felt so tranquil or so powerful, and definitely not both at the same time.

Roman forced himself to be the strong one, releasing Logan's hand so he could shut the door and finally take proper stock of the room.

There was barely any light through the bars on the small window in the door, but Logan moved forward with purpose, locating a torch and lighting it with some spell Roman didn't recognize—one that ignited a dazzling blue-white flame that was far clearer and brighter than the golden flicker of normal torchlight.

The layer of dust covering everything in the room was so thick Roman could feel the urge to cough bubbling in his throat just from breathing the air. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and could have made it easy to mistake the space for a library save for the fact that there were very few books on any of those shelves.

“It's like some kind of storeroom.” Logan observed. “That, or...perhaps a trophy room?”

“I told you,” Roman reminded him, “this palace is full of hidden nooks and crevices—places to hide, or to hide something you don't want anyone else to find. I hardly ever notice this door, but the locator spell sure did.”

“So...who does this belong to?” Logan wondered aloud, venturing over to one of the shelving units that had a few books scattered throughout. “And if these are trophies, what are they trophies of?”

Roman wondered the same thing, so intensely it took him a moment to realize Logan was no longer by his side. Shaking himself, Roman crossed the room carefully, painfully aware of the layer of dust his feet were disturbing as he came to stand beside Logan in front of the shelf. His eyes scanned over the objects and books displayed there until...

“Here!” he suddenly blurted, reaching up to pluck a book off the shelf. “This binding matches the Tomes in the palace library.”

Passing the small, leatherbound volume to Logan, he watched as Logan ran his fingers over the cover with a strangely thoughtful look, head cocked just slightly before he opened the volume.

“Is that it?” he asked hopefully. “The geneaology?”

Logan stared at the first page, shaking his head. “No...I mean, it is one of the Tomes, the one you likely said would have the magical bloodlines of the royal family, but—Roman, this was hidden for a reason. It's one of the Forbidden Tomes.”

“What?! Weren't those lost before the fall of the Animator?”

“Affirmative...this one, however, is quite new. Old still, mind you, but maybe two hundred years old at the most.” Logan looked up at Roman, eyes wide.

“I think this volume is a reconstruction.”

That rattled around in Roman's head, untethered and incomprehensible. “Who would be old enough to be able to rewrite one of the Forbidden Tomes? And how do you know how old this book is?”

Logan just stared at it...then flipped a couple of pages before going weirdly still.

“I can...it's an incorrect description, but I can hear it. The Tomes are written in mystical dialects, languages laden with power. My power.”

He lifted his head, meeting Roman's gaze head on with an intensity that stole Roman's breath.

“The mystical dialect this book was composed in is Mairome—the language of necromancy.”

Roman couldn't get his voice to work for a long moment as Logan turned back to the Tome and began reading, eyes flicking back and forth at a speed that was vaguely dizzying, trying to consume every nuance of the page, drinking it all in.

“What...what does it say?” he finally managed to ask aloud.

Logan didn't answer for a long moment. He shut the book gently, his gaze cast downwards.

“It says,” Logan finally answered, “that King Thomas Roman I is the name of the Animator.”

“...that can't be true. That...that means...”

“It means that the king did not slay the Animator—it means your ancestor assassinated the king. It means the Necromata have a legitimate claim to the throne.”

Roman ran his hands over his face, dizzy with the onslaught of information. “Who knew this that they had to take this book from the palace library and hide it here?”

“I think I know that, too.” Logan croaked, handing the book to Roman. “Start here—you should be able to read it.”

Roman accepted the book and peered at the page. Most of the text was a blurry mess of gently glowing lines and strange symbols, but some of the words were written in clear, plain English in various parts of the page.

When he was done, he passed the book back to Logan, reeling.

“Mori...I know that name.” Roman realized. “What are these?”

“They are the True Names of the monarchy.” Logan replied. “I know the name as well—it is the name of the man who tried to kill me when we first met.”

“...you never told me that.”

“I did not know his place among the palace guard—if he was someone close to you, I feared for your safety if he knew you were aware of his crimes.”

“Corporal Mori...he's a member of the dungeon guard.” Roman murmured. “My brother and I used to sneak into the dungeons to play at adventuring when we were little—he was a new private back then, and cruel to both of us. But...Logan?”

“Yes?”

“The name in there, below Thomas Roman I. Is that the Animator's son?”

Logan swallowed thickly. “It is.”

“But...but his True Name is Crofter...that's your last name.”

“Affirmative. At least...it was. Just as Mori's name was once Thomas Roman Sanders.”

Roman couldn't speak around the sudden tightness in his throat. Instead, Logan spoke for him.

“The Animator...he's not your ancestor, Roman—he's mine.”

Then the door of the storage room opened, slamming against the pile of detritus behind it.

Roman froze. Logan, however, snatched the book and rose.

“I'll lead him away—get back to your rooms at once, and look after Virgil.”

“Logan--”

He was cut off by another abrupt kiss, this one on the cheek.

“We'll get out of this, one way or another. I swear it on the Spider's Thread.”

Then Logan was gone, diving between the legs of the figure in the doorway to lead him away from Roman's location.

********** 1033, A.A.

“Paddock.”

Patton looked up from where he was crouched beside Logan's prone, writhing body. Logan's eyes had rolled back into his head and he was muttering incoherently while he twitched and twisted with an agony Patton could only guess at.

The voice that had spoken aloud belonged to a prison mage he recognized. The man was tall, dark, and tanned. He was handsome, mostly—he always wore dark glasses that hid his eyes, so it was difficult to be sure.

“What're you doing here, Somnum?” Remus asked sharply. He was awfully fast, next to Virgil one minute and the next standing beside Janus in front of Logan's prone form so Patton could only see Master Somnum through the space between their shoulders.

“Remy—the name's Remy, you fuckin' killjoys.” the mage sighed. “Will you just move already? Patton can vouch for me.”

“I can?” He asked uncertainly. Patton's nostrils flared on reflex, trying to scent the air—and immediately felt his magic rise, all animal instinct and threat.

The smell of death, old and ripe, was on the air. Not the smell of corpses or long settled dust, but death, fresh damp grave dirt and sticky in his lungs like worms crawling.

But...

Patton turned to Virgil, crouched beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil just looked at him, then at Remus and Remy, and nodded before focusing on his brother again.

Patton stood and came to stand next to Remus. He could feel more than hear the subsonic hiss building in the back of Janus's throat nearby, and found his gaze to reassure him before he faced the prison mage.

“He knows my True Name.” Patton admitted. “Janus can confirm it...but how?”

Remy didn't answer right away. He just stared at Patton, making him feel squirmy stomach and trembly. Breathing felt...not hard, but strange, and he wasn't sure if he liked it--

Reaching up, Remy removed his dark glasses.

“'Cause mine's Graymalkin.” he replied softly.

“What does that mean?” Virgil snapped testily. “Quoting Macbeth at each other won't--”

Patton didn't hear the rest. As far as he knew, Black Dogs and Heralds couldn't fly, but he couldn't feel the floor under his feet anymore...

...oh. Oh, he couldn't feel any of his legs anymore. The world was spinning, too—kind of like playing Statue Maker as a boy, grabbing his friends' hands and spinning, spinning, spinning before he had to stop and strike a pose--

“Patton.”

Patton blinked, and suddenly drew a deep, shuddering breath into his lungs before he started coughing. He—oh, he hadn't been breathing. That wasn't remotely good, willikers!

As he tried to get his breathing normalized, Patton found he was on the floor, being cradled in Janus's arms. His forehead was tucked against the scaled side of his neck, a lovely contrast of cool scales over warm skin and so much softer than anyone would think scales could be. As Patton calmed, he drifted, and gently rubbed his forehead against those scales, sighing at the soothing texture of their satiny surface brushing his skin, the edges gently catching in ways that sent pleasant little buzzes of sensation  from his forehead to skitter over his scalp.

Finally, he lifted his head—and found Remy kneeling in front of them, staring at Patton.

His eyes were pure onyx, from sclera to pupil—solid black orbs in his head, barely glinting in the light of the room. They were the eyes of a hijacked body, a resurrection gone wrong. The owner of the body was gone, and another soul had taken its place.

A soul Patton was fairly certain he knew.

“Patton?” Janus's voice, a question.

Slowly, Patton nodded.

Remy sagged visibly in relief. “You remember...Paddy, I'm a Reaper. I can help Logan. Will you let me?”

Feeling more like himself, Patton nodded again. Without thinking, he twisted and tipped his head up to kiss Janus's cheek before he got shakily to his feet.

“Virgil, Remy's gonna help.” he announced, still watching Remy with a secret fear that this would be a dream and that he'd vanish.

“Fuck you. I don't--”

“He's my brother. Please, Virge.”

There was silence for several moments, but then Remy was moving off some indication from Virgil, and Patton twisted to watch Remy drop to his knees at Logan's side. He touched his forehead, taking his hand and watching him closely.

“Motherfucker knows the only real way to kill a Lazari, and he's using the king to do it.” Remy muttered. “Let's see...nerd's Claim is holding, that's good, but his mind won't hold up under the Baccanal...lemme see, gurl...”

Remy shut his eyes, bowing his head. As he did, Patton suddenly felt a gust of warm air touching the back of his neck, making him flinch and whip his head around.

“Easy, Sin-ammon Roll.”

Prince Remus was there, his hand a buzzing gnat in Patton's awareness as it sat on his shoulder. He was watching Patton with a look he couldn't read—his features were like Janus's, well schooled into calm lines, but his eyes were clouded with some very turbulent emotion.

“Is the prison mage really your brother?”

Patton opened his mouth to answer, but no sound was coming out. The words were all there, but they were sort of...clogging in his throat, too many coming too fast, all fighting to escape at the same time. Fortunately, Janus's arms were suddenly there again, wrapped around his waist, cradling Patton back against his chest, warm warm warm and comforting in their familiarity.

“Patton was four years old when his brother died.” Janus stepped in. “Remington Morell was not quite fourteen—essentially executed in the street. Patton told me when they were children...their mother loved the Scottish play. Quoted it all the time--'I come, Graymalkin' when Remy called for her, 'Paddock calls' when Patton would cry.”

“...but the kid died.”

“Yes, but...it's the black eyes. They indicate the presence of a Raptor.”

“Like the dinosaur?” Remus asked.

“Like a body thief—a soul that hijacks a coprse during a botched resurrection.” Janus sighed, rolling his eyes as Patton twisted his head to look up at him.

“Ohhhh, I mean—wow.”

“Lucky for me, children age in Shadow.” Remy's voice piped up. Refocusing on Logan, Patton realized his best friend wasn't writhing and muttering anymore, just...laying there, asleep. Seemingly, anyway.

“What'd you do?” he asked, gently removing himself from the circle of Janus's arms to move towards Remy as he stood.

“Guided Logan to the Loom of Memory.” he replied. “It'll protect him for a while, and let him communicate with Roman if I'm right about how those two are bound—Mori's got the king under the Baccanal.”

“Cursing him with madness?” Patton breathed, his stomach churning with horror as he covered his mouth with both hands. “That's forbidden, Remoo.”

“Yeah, well, the Animator ain't known for playing by the rules, gurl.” Remy replied with a shrug. “So burning away a man's mind, one layer at a time until he's a drooling vegetable? Totally on the table.”

Patton felt something loosen in his chest as he grinned up at the other man. “You really are Remy, aren't you?”

Remy opened his mouth, brow furrowed with confusion—then understanding filled his features and he grinned, laughing. “Ah, geez—Remoo. You started calling me that when you were two 'cause you couldn't say Remington.”

“It's the only thing I remember really well.” Patton admitted, rushing forward to fling his arms around Remy with a choked laugh that quickly melted to tears.

“Mom and Pop kept your Vigil every Festival—but I never stopped.” he giggled wetly. “Every day—I had an altar in my room...”

“I know.” Remy soothed, holding onto Patton tight and reaching up to tousle his curls in a manner that Patton didn't recognize, but still felt weirdly familiar. “I heard you. Why do you think I snuck back when I realized you were in trouble?”

Patton pressed his face into Remy's shoulder. The smell of the mage's trade clung to him, acid and alcohol and herbs, but under that was something that set of primal echoes in Patton's head of family home safe loved, loamy earth and fresh rain.

Remy held on tight, just for a few seconds, but when he pulled back Patton felt steadier than he had in a very long time.

“We need to get the Lazari outta here.” Remy instructed. “It's a long story, but I was sent here to drag Lord Scaly off for execution. Plans changed, now I'm takin' you all somewhere safe.”

“Where's that?” Virgil asked, flinching when Remus swooped in to gather Logan up into his arms before Virgil could.

“Long story, tell you when we get there. Everyone move.”

********** When Logan opened his eyes, he was home.

It was a very familiar part of his home, however—none other than his childhood bed, wrapped in a familiar pair of arms.

Lifting his head, he had to fight not to lose his composure when he saw Roman's face. His head was nestled into Logan's pillow, features slack with repose...

Then tense, a low noise of distress rumbling in his chest, vibrating against Logan and shooting straight to his marrow.

Reaching out, Logan dug his fingers in beneath Roman's ribs. Fortunately it worked: immediately, Roman woke up with a squeal that was wholly undignified, and melted immediately into giggling he promptly cut off.

“Roman, it's okay...shhhh, you are safe. It's Logan, I'm here.”

Roman stared at him with a blank, unfocused look that scared Logan—actual fear he could not deny any longer, cold and cloying and sticking to the inside of his chest. Those green eyes were glassy and unseeing...they did not know him.

Very deliberately, Logan reached for Roman's hand, meshing their fingers together. He held them up in Roman's eyeline.

“Hold on...do not let go.”

That struck a chord, bringing some focus back to Roman's eyes. After a moment that stretched into eternity, Logan felt Roman's fingers tighten around his. Roman stared at their joined hands, mouth working soundlessly...

“I...never have.” Roman finally replied. “I never will.”

Logan's throat closed up, his eyes burning.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” He hated how small his voice sounded, how desperate.

Recognition finally sparked in Roman's eyes.

“...Starlight.”

Logan lost control then, flinging himself into Roman's arms. Roman let himself be bowled over onto his back, let Logan stretch out atop his body, press his face into the curve of Roman's neck, and just held on tight as Logan wept for the first time in ten years. Deep, heaving, wretched sobs that Roman soothed him through, a hand running over his back, Roman's deep and beautiful voice murmuring soothing nonsense directly into his ear.

Time passed. The slow, steady rhythm of Roman's fingers gradually smoothed the jagged edges until he could reach out and touch them without getting cut open again.

“Did you know?” Logan finally asked, lifting his head to meet Roman's gaze.

Roman stared back up at him, uncomprehending as his fingers drifted up to caress Logan's cheek. Logan found himself unable to resist leaning into the tender touch.

“Did I know what?”

“That day by the river—before the Festival. Did you know that you changed my True Name.”

“...not until we found the Tome. I...suspected something happened, but wasn't sure until we read about your grandfather.”

“What about later? When you came to me in my cell and gave me my new Name?”

“I...I'm not sure. I know I wasn't supposed to remember what you were to me, but...”

But he had. Reaching up to catch the hand Roman still had pressed to his cheek, Logan felt like he understood. Not really, but...but that was the point.

Roman never should have remembered enough to care about Logan, yet he'd come to find him, and helped him in his moment of need.

“I think,” Logan began hesitantly, “that it is as Grandpap often says. The stuff of Shadow—the things we are not allowed to know.”

Roman frowned pensively. His brow furrowed with it, and Logan let himself surrender to the temptation of bowing his head and kissing that line away.

“Miracles.” Roman murmured. “Shadow brought to the light.”

Logan made a sound of affirmation, nose brushing along Roman's hairline.

“Or an outsider brought to the Loom of Memory.”

Roman shifted under him, seeking out Logan's gaze with wide, curious green eyes.

“Is that where we are?” he asked, awestruck.

Logan nodded, running his fingers through Roman's hair.

“It is...and time moves differently here.” he explained, mouth hovering over Roman's.

Time Logan was going to take...because if Logan was Lazari, that meant he had power. If he was descended from the Animator, the First and most powerful, he had more power still. If he was bound, soul to soul, to the ruler of all the Kingdoms, Logan had power beyond magic.

He had all the power, maybe more, of his ancestor. Power enough to corrupt.

So he allowed it to corrupt him. He let himself be ruthlessly selfish.

He was not going to allow Roman to be taken from him again.

Never again.

********** He expected to feel a warm, strong pair of arms around him when he rose from a deep and restful slumber...but instead, his groggy mind was rattled by voices.

“So you've just been...what? Fooling him into thinking you were zombified? That's hot, don't get me wrong, but I don't see how he'd buy it.”

“Gurl, greedy men are dumber than a bag of hair—ain't that right, Emi?”

“Eh—yes, sweetheart. Basically, anyway. It takes a great deal of focus and power to control as many dead as Mori currently is.”

“That's why our people don't normally do it—raising a corpse is way different from resurrecting someone to life. Grandpap told Logan off for even suggesting the raising of more than two corpses at the same time. It's doable, but I think five is the limit before you risk madness under the weight of all those deaths.”

“So these are really zombies? Not people he resurrected? Gosh, that's just...scary.”

“Easy, baby brother—none of 'em are coming the fuck near you. That's why I got a heart-healer on my side...they don't tell people that they study necromancy on the side, y'know.”

“Remy, please. We don't...er...well, we don't study all of necromancy. Just necromatic theory—its relation to the mind. The function of the Cleansing, body theft, the psychological toll of magic...that's sort of how Remy and I met. I'm a bit of a bookworm...”

“Shhhh, he's waking up!”

Finally opening his eyes, he moved to sit up, reaching, fumbling until strong fingers caught his.

“It's okay, Loganberry—you're fine.”

“Logan—where is he?”

That was the moment he froze, his question coming out...strange. Deep, but not deep enough, well enunciated but too stiff.

“Logan?”

That was his voice...but it wasn't his voice saying Logan's name.

“...something's wrong.”

He looked around in confusion. Something was wrong with his eyes, the world fuzzy and haloed in blurs of color. He could recognize Remus only from the color of his tunic and the sound of his voice.

“Remus? What's happening?”

“Hold on—Virgil, his glasses.”

He didn't wear glasses, what the--

Then a pair was being set on his face, and the world suddenly came into painful focus. He was laying on a low couch in one of the palace offices. Remy and the heart-healer, Emile Picani, stood off to one side. Virgil and Remus knelt by his side now, with Janus and Patton wrapped around each other by the window.

Trembling, he lifted his hands in front of his face.

Pale. Slim. Long, lean fingers that had run through his hair so greedily, touched him so tenderly, blunt nails scoring skin in the depths of his mind...

“...Roman?”

Lowering Logan's hands—now his hands—Roman looked into his twin brother's eyes, into the face that he shared with him.

Or had at the start of the day.

“Please tell me that my brother did not just swap bodies with the fucking king?” Virgil squeaked, looking visibly ill as he swallowed thickly.

Roman, wearing Logan's skin, nodded slowly.

“I think he did,” Roman replied, “and in doing so...he just gave Mori exactly what he wanted.”

[pictureamoebae]

hi, hope you're well! i really love your clear bloom preset and i've followed your installation tut to a t (as far as i know - first time reshade user here). i promise i've scoured your faq for some answers but i'm still a little lost, sorry! i'm just wondering generally which boxes i should have ticked in the first tab of reshade's gui (mxao? depth of haze??). i'm also having trouble disabling edge scrolling... every time i do, my game crashes on me :( please help!

Hi anon, I saw your second ask saying you’d managed to disable edge smoothing (I’m guessing you meant edge smoothing rather than edge scrolling, because they’re different things, and it’s smoothing you need off, not scrolling).

When you install Clear Bloom and select the Clear Bloom preset all the core effects you need should be ticked already for you. Those are the ones you’ll want to keep on for the most part during gameplay. Any others are additional and for setting up screenshots.

I included in the download a file called CLEAR BLOOM RESHADE READ ME.txt. In there you’ll find some examples I set out of which shaders I turn on in certain situations, including which LUTs I choose from the MultiLUT shader depending on the world I’m in. These should give you a helping hand, but you can experiment turning different things on and off as you see fit -- although I do recommend keeping those core effects turned on all the time because they create the foundation upon which everything else works.

Clear Bloom is definitely what I’d consider to be an intermediate to advanced preset, which requires a certain feeling of gung-ho confidence to get stuck in and turn things on and off and experiment. I’m sure newcomers to ReShade can still get use out of it, but I understand it can seem overwhelming. I recently took about 18 months off the game and even I had the hardest time trying to remember how the actual heck Clear Bloom works when I came back! I’m still not sure I’ve got it right, but to me that doesn’t really matter, because as long as I have that foundational core I can play around with all the other shaders and settings as much as I want to get something I’m happy with, and I encourage everyone else to do the same.

After all that blather, key shaders I will almost always turn on when I’m taking screenshots are MXAO, qUINT_Bloom (I change the exposure value of this depending on how much or how little I want the scene to be brightened), Depth Haze and Adaptive Fog (exteriors), Ambient Light. Reading my instructions file I see I also recommended turning off DPX in interiors and a handful of exteriors -- I realise now I am currently not using DPX at all in any of my screenshots, because I totally forgot how I used it before I took that mind-wiping break lol. So it’s really up to you. 

Keep a backup of a freshly downloaded Clear Bloom.ini preset file in case you make changes and hate them and can’t remember how things were before. That way you can just swap in the backup and you’re back to the start again. I did not do that and ended up having to download my own damn preset. Don’t be like me. Be better.

I hope that’s somewhat helpful. Just take your time and have fun with it. There are no hard and fast rules. Use whatever you think looks best. If that ends up not always looking like my screenshots, well that’s absolutely fine. The preset is there for you to use as you see fit and to tailor to your own needs.

[etlunainmorte]

❄❄❄

***

***

❄ Three Wishes ❄

***

VI

***

" ... so, if you choose this option, it will allow you to change her language. I programmed about a hundred!" The Artisan proudly explained as she excitedly pointed at the screen.

"Why do ya wanna change her language?" Griffon questioned as he contentedly perched on top of V's bookshelf.

"It's just how it works." Nico answered as she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Then, she looked back at V, who was still staring confusedly at the cellphone in his hand. She pointed a finger at one of the options and spoke once more. "You also have complete control over the type of voice, accent,... basically the way she speaks!"

"What does it mean?" 

The poor poet felt like he was back at the department store where he had to listen to the Sales Representative for two hours straight as the cheerful employee explained, in full, excruciating detail, how a coffee maker works. Luckily, though, he didn't have to pay anything this time around. The cellphone was a gift from Nico, herself. He honestly appreciated the gift, he just didn't expect it to be rigged in such a way. During the first month that he owned it, he found out that it has an x - ray function ( he accidentally saw Griffon's insides, to his utter horror and regret, when he experimented with its camera ), a laser option for the flashlight ( which actually made a hole through the wall in the kitchen ), an intruder alarm ( which was a recording of Nero's songs on loop ), and a very accurate tracking device of every person he knew ( the last time he checked, he found out the exact whereabouts of his brother Dante, from his frequent travels to the ice cream and pizza parlor to his nightly sojourns to the nearby club houses ).

And now, it seemed that his wonder cellphone has another hidden function, and that was to give Shadow her very own voice with the use of the state - of - the - art bell that was dangling from her red ribbon, which was cutely tied around her neck. Apparently, the said bell was a gadget made by Nico, herself, to channel a demon's thoughts and translate them into coherent words with just a push of a button from the Kitty Cat Voice app that was programmed and installed by the same woman who gave him the cellphone.

And honestly? It amazed, unnerved, and confused the hell out of the poet, who was only beginning to live a life of his own in the modern society, away from his bickering brothers and close to the woman he loved.

"Here, let me show you." Nico took the cellphone from V's hands and typed something. She, then, looked at Shadow, who was obediently sitting on her usual spot on the floor, and spoke, "Say something, girl."

V and Griffon waited in silence as they looked at Shadow, and a few moments later, the demonic feline did speak!

"Bonjour!" The familiar said in a deep and overly sensual male voice that almost made Griffon fall from the shelf. "Je m'appelle Shadow. Ravie de vous rencontrer!"

"EURGH!" Griffon howled in disgust at what Shadow just said. "What kinda erotic sound is that?!"

"Seductive French Singer." Nico answered as she proudly nodded at the cellphone in her hand. Humming in satisfaction, she scrolled through the app once more and spoke, "Hmm, let's try something else. Okay, girl! Try greetin' our Mr. poetry here."

V's eyes narrowed cautiously as he instinctively drew back a bit, feeling a little nervous and unnerved of what the familiar might say to him. With threatening and glowing red eyes, the huge black cat padded towards her master, and when she was mere inches from him, she sat and raised her head obediently. Then, she spoke.

"Kon'nichiwa, V - sama!" Shadow greeted the poet in a very small and very childish voice of a young girl that made Griffon laugh so hard. "Anata ga watashi no koe no oto ga sukidearu koto o negatte imasu!"

"What did she just say?" V, looking horrified at what his familiar just said, questioned Nico, who was laughing along with Griffon and clutching her mid - section. She was clearly making fun of his confusion, the clever woman!

"Anata wa watashi no koe no oto ga sukide wa arimasendeshita ka? Nante zankokuda, V - sama!" Shadow whined in her creepy little voice, making V even more uncomfortable. "Daikirai! DAIKIRAI!"

"Please, make it stop,..." V pleaded quietly as he bowed his head down low and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Aww, don't like Nasally Japanese Moe?" The Artisan teased. After receiving a glare from the poet as a threat, the woman laughed nervously and scratched her head. "Alright, alright! I'll put it back to its default mode."

"Which is?" The demonic bird asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he flew towards the woman to see how she was operating the app she invented.

"Gentle English Babushcat. The voice you all heard durin' the play." Nico answered dejectedly as she made one last click on the screen before giving the cellphone back to V. "It's pretty simple, man. You open the app, no password needed, and you can select the - "

"No need."

"Okay! Okay! Just explainin',..." Nico shrugged her shoulders and shook her head on the way to the door, a defeated smile on her lips upon knowing that her precious work of art was not appreciated. "Well, then, goo - 

" ... hold yer panties! I almost forgot!"

To Griffon's utter surprise, the woman turned back and strode towards V, almost knocking the poor bird on her way, and began looking for something in her large and greasy - looking yellow bag.

"What now?" V, almost feeling annoyed, questioned her as he watched her ransack through her messy backpack.

"Ah, I'm pretty sure I put it somewhere here. I just don't know if - AH! There we go!"

"What is that?" Shadow, who now sounded like the gentle, motherly middle - aged aunt from earlier during the party, asked, her tail waving from left to right in mild curiosity at the thing on Nico's hand.

"I got lots of invites to Old Fleminger's Annual New Year's Ball." The Artisan explained. "So, I'm giving you some."

"New Year's Ball?" V took the pair of golden envelopes from Nico's hand and studied it with much curiosity. He looked up from the fancy things in his hand and raised an eyebrow in question. "And who is this Fleminger? A Demon that has to be killed?"

"Oh, no, no, no! Old Fleminger is a gentle old soul who still likes to party really hard at the age of sixty. He throws this massive, fancy annual spectacle where he expects people to dress up the way he wants them to. Just so you know, last year, when Nero and Kyrie were lucky enough to get some invites, they were made to dress up as characters from famous movies. Nero dressed up as James Bond and Kyrie dressed up as a hot Bond girl. They won King and Queen of the Ball."

"Ohoho, that sounds interesting! Yes!" Griffon declared as he joined V on the sofa, his golden eyes glistening with devilish intent. "So, uh, V, who are ya gonna dress up as? The penniless poet from Moulin - aghk!" But, even before the demonic bird could finish his sentence, Shadow's tail hastily covered his beak to stop him from speaking any further, making the poor bird muffle helplessly.

"STOP IT! YOU'RE EMBARRASSING OUR MASTER!" Shadow scolded as a loud growl escaped her throat and frightened the demonic bird. "Yes, Miss Nico, please continue."

"Oh, yeah, as I was saying," Nico went on, ignoring the conflicted look on V's already stressed features. " ... you are required to dress up to match the theme of the Ball. And it's vintage this time."

"Vintage? Like," The poet asked, some tasteless thoughts of himself indulging in such a party already plaguing his overworked mind. " ... old?"

"Yeah. Kinda like how grandma Adelaide probably used to dress up when she was still a teenager." Nico nodded as she crossed her arms and tapped her chin with her fingers. Suddenly, her eyes widened. Looking once more at V and pointing a finger at him, she said, "And don't forget to ask (Y/N) out as your date, okay? It's a requirement!"

Me,... asking her out as my date to a strange Ball?! "I'm afraid to say that I' am not certain as to - "

"Aww, come on, man!" Nico pleaded as she collapsed next to V on the sofa and grabbed his shoulders, shaking them to somehow make the man come to his senses. "We all know that ya like the girl, if it isn't too obvious enough already!"

"But,... I don't even,... like her,..." V quietly said as he tried to get the woman's hands off his shoulders.

"Yeah, 'cause Shakespeare fuckin' loves her - AGHK!" Griffon used his momentary freedom from Shadow's tail to speak but, he was abruptly grabbed by one of Shadow's huge morphed hands.

"SHUT YOUR BEAK AND LET MASTER SPEAK, OR I'LL TEAR YOUR LIMBS APART!" The feline threatened.

"Don't! Please! Squawk! I beg ya! Aghk!"

"Anyway, confess to her already!" Nico went on. "Use this Ball as a chance. Dress up nicely like someone's hip and swell grandpa and woo her!"

"Hip and,… swell? And,… woo,... (Y/N)?"

"Yeah! And while ye're at it, learn some Elvis Presley moves that ol' geriatrics love and ask her to boogie with ya on the dancefloor! Be a tiger and impress her! Do everythin' ya can to sweep her off her dainty feet!"

"I'm not sure if I can do this kind of thing,..."

"Ya can do it! Just believe in yerself!" Nico smiled and stood, patting V on the shoulder. "Okay? Ye must make her say yes as soon as ya can. The Ball is in a week."

And with those not - so - encouraging words, V was left with more questions than answers, and with more problems than solutions. First of all, Shadow can speak very well now, thanks to the wonder gadget and app that Nico created. Well, Griffon was already too much on his ears but, to actually hear his two familiars bickering for real? Second, who was this old Fleminger and how did the Artisan get some invites to his prestigious event? The invitations looked really fancy and expensive, after all.

And thirdly, how could he possibly ask her out? The trip to the mall and the cinema was one thing but,...

... Nico was expecting him to confess to her.

That, and the fact that he has to dress up vintage - style for the event and dance like this Elvis Presley that Nico was talking about ( who was Elvis Presley, anyway? ). Wouldn't he become a laughingstock, then? Would he be making a complete fool of himself, then? And if that happens, would you even accept his love? Would you laugh at him and tell him he's not worthy?

These crippling thoughts were still on V's mind when he entered his dark, cold, and lonely bedroom later that evening. With the sparkling golden invites on his hand, he made his way towards the window, sat on the chair next to it, and parted the heavy curtains. And with one simple look, he saw the window to your bedroom. The curtains were, of course, closed but, he could clearly see that your lights were still on, indicating that, at the very late ( or early ) hour of two in the morning, you were still awake. You did mention to him that you could not sleep well,...

V's eyes widened a bit when he finally saw the lights being turned off in your room.

Ah, she must be feeling sleepy now, he thought.

However, not even a minute has passed when the lights turned on again. It stayed like that for about twenty more minutes, then it went dark once more.

The poet sighed. It must be so hard for her, he thought.

And then, an idea struck his mind. He did promise that he will fulfill her three wishes. The first wish didn't work out too well because of Lancaster but, what if,...?

The man left his window and went towards his bedside table where some of his poetry books were. Then, he looked at the invites in his hand.

This,... might actually work,...

***

❄ @la-vita , @clevermentalitybeliever , @v-vic , and @birdgirl69 . ❄

***

❄❄❄

***

[finsterhund]

The boredom gets to me.

Lake trip got cancelled, then postponed to today, except ex roommate didn't want to go to the safe lake and me and my friend only wanted to go to the safe lake so we didn't end up going at all but that was okay because Will and Paula did a Paper Beast stream and it was fun.

Other than that things have been extremely boring and I've been getting sick from the heatwave.

It's too hot to play Paper Beast because of the headset, it's too hot to play Minecraft because ice pack laptop gets hot way quicker now.

It really becomes apparent that without spending money there's not much to do during the quarrentine. I've drawn a bit, I keep trying to write but never get anywhere, and mostly I'm just feeling lonely and wishing I had a dog. I have to be careful not to think too much about that late at night otherwise I'll miss my bedtime and then cry myself to sleep at 4AM. I joke about how I am explicitly forbidden from listening to "Tiny's Song" after 7PM, because that's a surefire way to make it worse.

I have another psychiatrist phone call in a couple weeks and I'm hoping to talk about trauma and misery loops, or whatever it's called when your brain keeps dwelling on loss.

Computer quest seems to be going well, but of course I've put as much money as I can into it for this month. Frustrated that I can't do anything more until I get paid again.

Got to go to the thrift store a few days ago. Impulsively got Lady because she was 5 dollars and we all know she's a spaniel so obviously I was weak of will, soft of heart, dumb of ass. You know the drill. This boy does not simply see a cosmically significant stuffed dog just sitting there and not do something about it.

I also picked up a seemingly brand-new collar with several tags attached. I collect used and discarded dog tags (I will go into this in more detail in another post) and I intend to start bringing as many back as I can whenever I get to go to thrift stores.

I'm frustrated that I keep making plans that I'll only be able to follow through on once all this is over. My computer is the only big thing in the works that isn't held back by the virus.

I wish the other one in town would open again. Stupid virus.

I keep phoning my mom to talk to her puppy. I was going to visit to see the puppy and also bring my childhood toys back home and also develop the Spot negatives. But no. Ruined. Stupid virus says "Andy likes Spot, and his old toys, and puppies. Let's make sure he doesn't get to see them" stupid virus.

I have a TON of important things planned where traveling or going to high risk stores/places that are definitely closed is required.

The last Spot I ordered online before I put my foot down and said "no more buying comfort items online until you get your new computer" seems to almost be arriving. Should around the same time I have my phone appointment. I'm also waiting on the lost DHL puppy (still, it's been so long) and another that I think also is lost, and a rare copy of Heart of Darkness that's taken forever to ship and is presumably in Alaska now (why I don't know)

I intend to spoil that Spot to an extreme amount to make up for the eBay stuffed dog drought that will presumably go on for three months. Although the fact that I do no longer have to hold onto all the money to use at once and have now switched over to giving it in installments to my friend who's doing my custom build does mean I have a better understanding on how much money I have available each month. It's their responsibility to count and keep track of the big unintelligible numbers now. I'm free!

Although I do still intend to keep the paper with all the "100"s written on it in use. Using a visual aid to help with my dyscalcula has actually felt super good. Wish teachers would have been more open to helping me do this during school.

I do wish I had more inspiration to draw and write. Not getting too much interaction with what I'm doing online so it doesn't feel like a way to socialize and I'm actually desperate for more socialization during this time.

The quest for an extremely large floppy stuffed dog that looks like Spot has been postponed due to the computer quest. Similarly I am barred from buying anything else from Awwful Adopts, Lil Sprout Care, and Blvucci. Will showed me a browser extension that blocks certain website access from your browser. I use it to bar me from aimlessly searching stuffed dogs on eBay for four hours.

Hold me to this promise. No Awwful Adopts, No LilSproutCare, and no Blvucci. If I brag about getting the Blvucci glow in the dark hoodie and it wasn't because I won a free one, you are all encouraged to spam mean names into my message inbox and hit me with things.

I have materials to make custom sized collars and bandannas for my stuffed dogs but I just don't feel up to learning to sew. I know how to do 1. A ladder stitch and 2. Several types of knots. So all I can technically do is fix small holes in stuffed animals.

It's technically my bedtime but I don't feel able to sleep right now so I'm just writing this update.

My friend made art of Spot for me and it is very nice so I'll share it tomorrow.

Keeping my mind active talking about my day and my plans stops me from thinking about sad things, but it also prevents me from sleeping. I just wish that there was something to look forward to tomorrow. It's gonna be another hot do nothing stay home day.

Maybe soon we will get to go to the lake.

Anyways, I'll try updating you all more. Maybe post more memes and things that have mostly been going on over at twitter dot com. I keep forgetting to post things here because of how broken Tumblr is on desktop now.