#and i re-themed my profile to boot for it also!

[linkedin-offficial]

happy warriors way!

have a pixel compilation [all but #1 and #12 are comms]

[tyrantisterror]

The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D: Entry Roundup

You’ve been patiently waiting for the results of the ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D, and now... you have to wait a bit longer, but at least you’ve got an entry roundup with lots of sketches and a good bit of feedback for all the entrants!  My goal is to get the finalists illustrated in a week or two, and after that, the grand prize winner will be announced.  But, for now, the official entry roundup!  After the cut:

I should note that while I sketched these in the order they were submitted, my scanner saved the documents with random names, so they’re a bit jumbled.  You know, just in case you’re like me and would get confused noticing that it’s almost in chronological order but with some entries jumbled around.

@bugcthulhu’s Obsideban was designed as a counterpart to Rohobaron - the Black King to Rohobaron’s Red King, if you will.  Or, well, Black Queen in this case, as Obsideban also takes her personality from the “delinquent girl” archetype in Japanese media.  Bug’s designs always ooze personality, and I had a lot of fun translating this big, gnarly retrosaur into my own style.

@toothlessloveshiccup‘s Argonox is the first - but far from the last - monster in this breakdown that brings in a bit of fantasy influence to ATOM’s roster.  A golden-fleeced ram with a vicious streak, this sheep is both treasure and dragon at once.  And while it wasn’t written in the monster’s profile, given the Yamaneon-rich nature of its wool, Argonox might be able to replicate the healing power of the golden fleece too!  A very fun mammalian kaiju and excellent entry.

@highly-radioactive-nerd submitted Gunmetal Jeeves, a robot butler who can gigantomax temporarily create a holographic/hard light version of himself to fight kaiju.  That detail was a late revision added to the entry before the contest’s deadline, made after the creator realized that ATOM allows for some truly ludicrous bullshit, which is something everyone should exploit when making entries for this in my opinion.  Also, this is a robot butler who can size shift.  Revel in its awesome absurdity!

Ultranerd submitted Rajasaurus, a dimetrodon-like synapsid kaiju with electric powers.  His origin specifies that the electric powers are a result of the volatile nature of the Yamaneon deposits he mutated under, which is an interesting idea.  That’s another theme that cropped up a lot in this contest’s entries, actually - people really wanted to play with what Yamaneon can do.

Case in point, @polygonfighter’s Yamaneolith takes the Monolith Monsters homage at the heart of Yamaneon even more apparent.  I like the implication that there is a second mineral-based lifeform at the root of this Yamaneon cluster’s anomalous behavior - a parasite, perhaps?  It brings up some interesting possibilities.

@ariccio50 submitted Kukulkuzana, and damn is this a cool spin on the body plan of my martians.  I made a few changes here and there (splitting its tail into two is probably the biggest one), but tried to keep true to the original design, because holy hell is it gorgeous.  The idea that this is a mountain-dwelling creature is really intriguing to me, as it looks like a sea creature, but at the same time, that flexible and low-slung build WOULD work pretty well in mountains, and it’s just the right mix of plausible weirdness that makes for a fun alien design.

@akitymh submitted Aramzados, a Venusian monster that’s basically an organic hot rod car.  I like the idea of organic machinery being the gimmick for Venusian kaiju, and Aramzado’s does it subtly enough to not feel like that gimmick is the sole thing going for it.  I especially love this monster’s stange, apparently mouth-less blade-beaked face.

@virovac submitted Rurzar and Zar Rider, a Beyonder kaiju and mecha (respecitvely) that were both modified and repurposed by humans reverse engineering Beyonder technology to make, like, a motorcycle-saurus essentially.  It is a delightfully absurd concept, and a very, very detailed one (13 pages of description).  There’s a dark undercurrent beneath the sillyness, though, as this pair show that humanity might still be following the same path as the Beyonders before them.

@dinosaurana brings us Krangor, a humanoid monstrosity of living kelp!  The goal here was to create a Jack Kirby-esque monster dude, complete with the gibberish name and all.  He’s also made out of kelp, which feels very classic 1950′s monster-y despite me not being able to think of any monsters that were explicitly made of kelp.  I love him.

@kiryuthechimera submitted Genkakurah, a psychic retrosaur with some draconic features.  Though his substantial powerset is probably the biggest distinguishing feature of this kaiju (given that most ATOM kaiju pretty much have the same standard powers), what really draws me to him is that reptilian pseudo-beard.  It’s just a fun detail!

@glarnboudin submits Tiratola, and see, there’s that fantasy influence again!  Even more explicitly dragon-y than Kraydi, Tiratola still manages to toe the line between sci-fi and fantasy enough to fit ATOM as is while still cementing its ties to my own slice of fantasy fiction.  Man it’s good I’m doing a Midgaheim book next, huh?

@dragonzzilla submitted Scuttlebutt/Argonautilus, a hermit crab kaiju who lives in/with a hollowed out mecha.  That’s a twist I can’t recall ever hearing before, and the idea of a kaiju and a mecha having an equal partnership that doesn’t involve one being grafted to the other is really intriguing to me.  A very unique concept!

@evolutionsvoid submitted Fleagor, an enormous flea who has no idea what to do with itself now that there’s no creature large enough for it to parasitize.  I love that concept - it takes the core idea of the giant bug kaiju archetype (i.e. unsettling the audience by showing how terrifying small, “insignificant” creatures would be if our sizes were reversed) and really turns it on its head.  The name also plays on the Universal Monsters, who were a huge part of 1950′s pop culture thanks to their movies being re-released in that era, so all and all this one is very on brand for ATOM!

@skarmorysilver submitted Lilacorn, another entry that plays up that Midgaheim/ATOM connection.  Reinterpreting the mythological unicorn as an Cenozoic wooly rhinoceros-inspired monster gives it a very unique look, both in ATOM and in the general world of unicorns, and she has a bad-girl with a heart of gold personality to boot!

dracosaurus-rex submitted Florasaura, a two-headed plant/retrosaur hybrid monster.  I love me some plant monsters, I love me some retrosaurs, and I love me some rhyming the word “flora” with other words that contain similar vowell sounds, so this one has me written all over it!

@downtofragglerock submitted Sauroguana, a delightfully odd flying retrosaur.  There’s a great deal of charm to the original illustration that this sketch doesn’t quite capture - it’s a deceptively simple design with a lot of personality in it, and with those unique leg-wings it really doesn’t need a whole lot of frills to stand out.

Draxi submitted Brakan, an unimpressive burrowing retrosaur kaiju whose mastery of illusions allows it to convince other kaiju it’s actually a big, super-powerful badass that’s the ultimate fighter in the universe.  It’s a delightful parody of the concept of a fan self-insert god-mode character, with a really fun story built into it to boot!

@quinnred submitted O.N.I.A.C., a mysterious cocooned kaiju whose chrysalis has been turned into an organic computer of sorts by the people studying it, and seems to possess a fairly advanced intelligence for a kaiju.  It’s a really bizarre and ominous idea, with built in intrigue given how vague its nature is.  Is it just a kaijufied butterfly/moth who got stuck mid transformation?  A relative of the Mothmanuds?  Something else, perhaps equally alien?  Good story potential here.

shadyserpent submitted Vespilitor, a bat/retrosaur hybrid made by the nefarious Spooks Organization.  A mercurial prankster whose tendency to stir up trouble never crosses the line into maliciousness, he’s the kind of monster who would make a great foil to a lot of ATOM’s cast.  I’d especially like to see him in a prank off with Ahuul - it’d be like Bugs Bunny fighting Daffy Duck, but on a kaiju scale.

@multiversefan submitted the Yamaneon King, a nomadic kaiju whose refusal to settle down causes problems as he stirs up trouble at kaiju sanctuaries all over the globe by showing up unannounced and stirring up the locals.  He was basically designed to be a monster that the kaiju sanctuary initiative would struggle to deal with, which is a good idea for a post-ATOM Volume 2 story conflict.

Sir K submitted Jadeera, a kirin kaiju that can actually forcibly convert most of its body to Yamaneon to enter a dormant, statue-like state in a loose homage to King Shisa.  Though the fantasy elements are far more present than I usually prefer for ATOM kaiju, I think it should be noted they’re pushed that far for a purpose - a theme in Jadeera’s entry, which continues where its creator left off with their submission to the previous ATOM create a kaiju contest (Yokaigon), is that the world of kaiju is more complicated and challenging than many are willing to accept, which is a theme in ATOM itself.  Yokaigon’s more supernatural/occult powers are based on the ghost parascience of my setting, which ATOM has delved into a bit (Pathogen being the big example), so it’s not as out of left field as some might think.

@cerothenull​ brings us our final entry (unless some got lost thanks to tumblr’s shitty tagging system), the flying spider Naeranti.  She’s a kaiju spider who uses silk to make complicate hot-air balloons, more or less, and that’s just delightful.  ATOM could always use more spider-monsters, and with a really unique gimmick backing up a wonderfully distinct look, Naeranti is sure to stand out among her fellow giant arachnids.

Well, that’s the roundup!  In a week (or two, depending on how much my hand cramps) we’ll have the five finalists, and sometime after that, the grand prize winner!

[thegoldenreport]

MIND BENT

Pretending to be someone else is easy, especially when you’ve been doing it your whole life. Amber-Eye 098 is an top tier imitation artist from the Southern Moon district, who has almost twelve years of experience under her belt in deceiving the general public for fun.

She recently sat down with Golden Report executives to share one such experience - how she managed to infiltrate Jatty’s Candy Cave and impersonate the titular owner, while remaining undetected for three months.

If the name of “Jatty’s Candy Cave” doesn’t ring a bell for you or stir up a primordial urge to vomit, we highly recommend an appointment with your local re-education services to rectify the issue. But in the mean time, we’ll ask you a very simple question, what’s really in their candy?

Or to put it in a different way...

Are you meant to be seeing the buzzing, glitching, oozing shadow that stands in the corner of your room at all times?

…

AE098: Whenever I approach a new character, I choose to look first at their environment. Their people. You can tell a lot about how a person is supposed to act just by looking at their people.

Jatty’s Candy Cave, for example, is housed in a very elaborate sewer system underneath the inner city of West Logos. Jatty doesn’t voluntarily share this information, but somehow makes sure her customers spread it like the plague. She wants to be known far and wide, yet continues to stay hidden. Chosen isolation perhaps as a method of retaining control? A walking contradiction nonetheless.

Sending several camera flies into the underground system confirmed she didn’t work alone. A personal assistant named Rael followed her every beck and call. Visuals showed him to be a funny little man who changed his aesthetic and vocal inflection on the daily. Though tended to favor anything revolving around a space or astronaut theme. It was a good thing I wasn’t stealing his identity.

Jatty, on the other hand, donned an a-line purple skirt, skin tight black turtle neck, dark green combat boots (which just so happened to be the same shade as her nefarious chemical ingredient, zeroX), and a pair of velvet back gloves that extended her fingers into claws.

Unlike Rael, she wore this suit on the regular and showed no signs of switching it up. Which of course made things ridiculously convenient for my costumes associate. She does such a sublime job at matching garments down to the very fabric and shade. I had nothing but confidence in her work.

I remember spending long evenings in her sewing shop, top floor of the special ops building. Trying on the boots and pacing around the floor. Feeling out the walk of, shall we say...a potential murderer? An ill advised chemistry enthusiast? Mad science extraordinaire? I wouldn’t know for sure until I became her.

Everything is a performance. Everyone has a good side. Everyone loves to act for the camera that isn’t even there. You may be wondering why we even go through the trouble of full body espionage if we already send in a hundred camera flies to wire tap the place. To that I say again, everything is a performance. The name of the game is not just tearing down the curtain, but walking backstage. The one place a camera refuses to go.

Further audiovisual input revealed her voice to be low and musky, like she constantly had to be clearing her throat (of her own toxins, perhaps?). We had vocal modifier pills that could mimic this effect. And her walk was always brisk in comparison to the slower moving factory workers. She was a being in motion, a blur that could not stop for more than a few moments at a time. And it wasn’t just an urgency to it, but a nervousness, a real fear. I was excited to discover more.

In the days leading up to my deployment, special operatives performed what we like to call a body snatch. Methodically extracted in such a way that Jatty would not even think to deny leaving with us. We offered an opportunity, intentionally vague, but sweet enough to seal the deal. Or that’s how it started.

In reality, we slipped a sleeping agent into her water glass, while discussing terms in the late hours of the evening. I’m not entirely sure where they took her, but by that point, I was ready.

MEETINGS

This is the word I would use to describe my first month in character. I remember the night I slipped into her office chair, torn faux leather at a cherry red mahogany desk. I remember the stickiness of said office chair. I remember pouring through her journals, her agenda books, her middle school science books. She was a being on the move, constantly meeting with someone. But for what?

One such meeting that stook out to me was with a blue deer handler, and only in my second week of deployment. I had read about this particular blue deer. And the sweet nectarine like flavor of it’s blood. Our conversation was brief, speaking about his latest harvest for the factory. He had come across a surplus, could give more this month than before. I was immediately suspicious. Could this blood contain the hallucinogenic properties I had heard about?

Unfortunately, the answer was no. Can confirm. I tried it myself.

It was however the main component of almost all their candy’s flavor profile. But I couldn’t have cared less about the flavor.

CHEMICALS

My second month felt the most comfortable. No one had yet raised a suspicious eye towards me, save for a few factory workers who I quickly disposed of, as per my training. I had gotten used to the endless walking. Learning to digest informative material while on the go. Like all those mad scribbles in her middle school science textbook. Keeping all conversations either short or long depending on what the situation called for.

I had internalized every type of candy we made in the Cave. The pipes hissed. The air smelled like swamp water. The work room was a mental prison of blood, sweat, and flickering lights. It was here that I learned the ingredients. That I tasted the fruit for the first time. Although I was pretty good at pretending I had done it many times.

She must have built up a tolerance to the drugs they use if she does this on the regular.

The candy I tried was called Vox. A lime green sucker that slowly turns into goo as it melts in your mouth. The color is deceptive. One might expect it to taste like an apple or even a lime. It tasted like salted butter.

This particular candy among many others contained a key ingredient known as zeroX: an opaque, thick, dark green almost black liquid at room temperature. Meant to be highly addictive. Meant to simulate an adrenaline rush. Meant to make the whole body shiver. The eyes dilate. The palms sweat. You feel like an imposter in your own skin. You believe that the voices on the radio are talking directly to you. The paranoia crawls deep into your brain, filling the space behind your eyes.

But you don’t hallucinate.

Can confirm, as I locked myself in the chief office and rode out it’s side effects on the wave of a panic attack.

SECRETS

In the middle of month 3, we received a mysterious package from a tall man in a black trench coat. My assistant Rael brought it to me at my desk, during one of the few times I had felt comfortable sitting down. He seemed to know exactly what it was. And assumed I also knew.

It was a black box, no seams or openings, no buttons or lights or switches. The only thing of note was a silver etching of an eye marked out with an X. It was a symbol that made me shudder. I had seen it all over the textbook. I had seen it plastered on every police car and above every government building. It’s a symbol you should all know. That was the first secret.

Our own leaders were in on it. Turning a blind eye.

That was the beginning of the crack in my facade. That little pause. That miniscule choke before my answer. I noticed a glimmer of something in Rael’s eyes. Confusion. Doubt. Suspicion. Patrons not trained in this artform might miss a cue like that, but I knew I had to begin my extraction.

A week later, I exposed my taste to zeroC. One of two chemicals they used as zeroX was designated for hard candy and zeroC for soft. Only five percent of their production contained soft candy. They don’t talk about zeroC. They mix it under tables or in dark corners of the room where the light doesn’t touch them. Which leads to the second secret.

The black box was zeroC, ground up like powder to be mixed with the syrup.

I had been reading about this less popular ingredient written upside down between the lines of Jatty’s incredibly weathered textbook. Similar to the effects of LSD or DMT, but extremely more potent and infinitely more long lasting. Made with the same blood of that fantastical blue deer.

I was fearing the inevitable. My weekly tasting of the newest batch. I could not fake it. All the workers lined up to stare at me at I sat before their production table and consumed their poison. There are some things you simply cannot fake before that many eyes.

I felt the sweet juice explode in my mouth as the candy’s skin broke between my teeth. I swallowed with all the confidence of returning to my office to take a shot of my emergency counteractive medicine.

I immediately started to cry. A side effect I was not expecting. The emotion swallowed me as they all stared. Some perplexed. Some, dare I say, satisfied? I stumbled through the hallways. Rael chasing after me with a clipboard. I didn’t turn to look at him. Escaped to my office, shut the door, and locked it. Which brings me to the third and final secret.

I had been fooling no one. They knew.

Sitting behind the cherry stained mahogany desk was the real Jatty, holding the shattered remains of the syringe, which contained my antidote. Ice blue eyes magnified by the chemicals coursing through my body. Her glare pierced through my skull. I don’t know if she escaped, if I was set up, or if my extraction was on short notice. My supervisors have neglected to tell me.

But as I was there with knees buckled and tunnel vision, I saw the black shadow of a hand appear on her shoulder and she whispered.

Don’t forget this. You people have no control.

I blacked out after that. My supervisors came to collect me after some time. I felt their arms wrapped around me as they dragged me out, slipping in and out of consciousness. Unable to process the shocking and also very strange things I was hearing.

Something about not keeping the deal. Something about craving orange juice. Another thing about an early return. And another thing about wombats in space.

I was in recovery for three weeks afterwards while our physicians on hand constructed an antidote. The hallucinations have stopped, but the paranoia is still palpable. They offered me a mind wipe pill, asked me if I wanted to forget.

I told them it was impossible.

[inspector-montoya-fox]

#11 - A Tangled Web

Setting: oh, boy...... where do i even start with this one? welcome to your worst nightmare, or as Sly puts it a well-fortified gothic nightmare. if you thought Jailbreak was the embodiment of fear, A Tangled Web is ten times that. i mean, it doesn’t really develop any of the previous Prague characteristics because they’re the same, but the towering buildings really hone the spookiness. developments in the story also add to the fear factor. the Contessa has been ousted from Interpol and is now facing newly-promoted Neyla’s wrath. i’m thinking about what Hitchcock said on suspense and how having a bomb go off is scary, but having the people anticipate the blast is even scarier. that’s the case here. war is about to erupt and the gang is caught right in the middle of it all. although the fighter planes are casually attacking the castle and tanks are roaming the area throughout the episode, the operation establishes that full-out war is the climax for this episode. despite all this, the gang is united again and is ready to take down the Contessa. i absolutely love how there are two areas in this hub: Neyla’s side and Contessa’s side. Neyla’s side is a charming European town, reminiscent of Jailbreak’s hub. Contessa’s side is an intricate maze, full of arches, bridges, stained glass windows, crypts, dungeons and a cottdamn cemetery. similar to The Predator Awakes, i often get lost when playing this episode. the hub’s two areas also highlight the war aspect because it shows how there’s two indefinite sides to the subject, even though both characters (Neyla and the Contessa) are villains. essentially, the gang is a tiny league of their own swept up between a boiling feud. the safehouse is placed upon stairs to show how the gang doesn’t belong on Neyla’s side. as soon as you walk down those stairs, you face the danger of ruthless tanks (one of the game’s most annoying “guards”). the gang is definitely not welcome here. the hub’s architecture comes into play a lot throughout the episode: you have to climb the highest high to get to the Re-Education Tower and crawl under sewer tunnels to get to some of the crypts. some crypts are water-based, some are medieval trap-based, some are full-on coffin-based. and the missions really emphasise this as most of them have the gang traverse through a variety of rooms. fab.

Characters: before i touch upon the Contessa, i just wanna say, Carmelita’s back, after an episode of being completely MIA. yeap, right off the bat we find out she’s being held captive by the Contessa, who wants to turn her brain into mush. things are looking dire. for Sly, this brings back memories of Clockwerk’s lair. we haven’t seen Carmelita this defeated since she was Clockwerk’s hostage. this just further proves what a force the Contessa is. i love Carmelita’s lines in this episode (e.g. Let me out of here and I'll readjust your face!). Sly calls her his violent little princess and honestly that encapsulates everything. A Tangled Web overturns everything we thought we knew about Carmelita. after missing out on an entire episode, she’s being held captive for the majority of this one, and when she’s finally freed, she’s out of control. so we see two new sides of Carmelita: first restraint and then extra-powerful. the latter is due to her taking control of the tank at the end of the episode. she blasts the Contessa’s blimp down and even gets her hands on one of the Clockwerk eyes for a bit. Carmelita’s frenzy eventually winds down when (we’re informed via cutscene) that the gang helps her make a quick escape. so, basically, she’s back. let’s talk about the Contessa. as i’ve said above, the Contessa is an absolute force. i’m so happy to see a female villain surpass the other villains and their brute force. mind over matter, baby. absolute savage Jean Bison can’t follow up the Contessa’s act because he’s just plain muscle. in A Tangled Web, the Contessa is in her prime. i don’t know if she thrives under pressure or something, but she’s reached a divine level, elevating her persona and delivering PRICELESS dialogue such as I'm above all that, above good and evil. this episode is what makes her my favorite villain. SP gave her the “psychology trait” and took that to its full extent by having her psychoanalyze every character, almost drive Carmelita mad, and then try to hypnotise Sly. similarly to Rajan, the hub’s architecture resembles its baddie by having all those arches and tunnels resemble the Contessa’s spider legs. in the end, we get to fight her, head-to-head. it’s a great bossfight, albeit simple. but i want to focus on the dialogue during the bossfight. we have a character that knows Sly. again, only Clockwerk was that familiar with the Coopers. the rest of the villains up until this point (up until Dr M, that is) have been goons and crooks. but the Contessa, having researched Sly and his psychological profile, actually knows him. i know i speak for all of y’all when i say that You're an ignorant child playing dress-up in his father's legacy is A Tangled Web’s absolute climax. because it hits so hard. oof. it all just culminates and gives this marvel of a character an awesome conclusion. so now, we naturally have to talk about Sly. it’s been a hot minute since the raccoon’s had some character development. after being double-crossed, trapped and then had some reconnecting with his friends, he’s back. and he feels kinda different. i mean, he’s still the fun-loving, sarcastic Cooper we all love, but i think he’s started considering the gravity of the situation. Sly 1 saw Sly gradually realize what he was going up against, level after level. in Sly 2, he had to be cocky enough to get betrayed and thrown into jail before coming to the realization that the stakes are high. the episode starts with Sly saying Time for a little payback in full seriousness, and ends with him saying I tried to put it all out of my mind. This Klaww business was spiraling out of control and I knew that my gang was at the center of it. yeap. this set of episodes has definitely changed Sly. and i think having the Contessa mention his dad really pushes him even further. when he says sHE’s GOT THE EYE!?!!!? you really feel it (?). and finally, Neyla. ah, we finally get to see her true colors (at least that’s what we think). the cutscenes’ animation really does a great job in outlining what a war mongrel she really is. stomping around with her Timberland boots and barking out orders, having a hoard of tanks and fighter planes follow her. she’s absent for the majority of the episode but finally makes a grand entrance at the end. and the deception is brilliant. SP presented her as an angry war leader, had her hide in her HQ for most of the episode and only showed her making offensive moves towards the Contessa. so we were all shocked when she sneaked into the Re-Education Tower at the end. it was so un-war-mongrel-like, further proving that Neyla can easily shed her skins and how versatile she is. she’s like the yin to Sly’s yang..... until she gets stuck in a web.... *sigh*

Themes: when i say war, you say theme: war theme ! hear me out, this episode is very character-driven, but the themes are heavy too. having the episode take place right in the middle of a war is a new direction for the series. in the past, every episode had a different location and different aesthetic, but it was usually the gang stealing stuff in the night. here, we’re in an active warzone. the fighting heightens tensions and adds pressure to an already tough situation. the theme also embodies the characters and the hub. if Neyla is the embodiment of war (tanks, planes, etc.) and the Contessa is personified by her gothic estate, it further highlights how the former has the latter quite literally surrounded. tanks have driven the Contessa into her estate, surrounded by water, and the planes keep attacking the buildings inside. all this might and fury places the two villains onto pedestals. the theme is present everywhere: the Prague sky is especially red in order to exhibit the wrath of war, some of the missions take on a destructive nature (Mojo Trap Action, Tank Showdown). we all know war never ends well, and that’s exactly what happens: the gang is forced to flee at the end, barely managing to obtain both Clockwerk eyes. lastly, the fear theme is still present from last episode, but ties in with the war theme. the architecture, the guards and the missions still emit fear, but fear of war overshadows everything else. so, essentially, the war preserves the fear aspect and even sharpens it. and then, there’s the theme of defiance which fits in perfectly with the war theme. we’ve reached the end of this set of great episodes and the characters are fed up. as i’ve mentioned above, after Carmelita breaks free, she wreaks havoc. she’s been warning the Contessa about breaking free and there was doubt, but she succeeds and that shows defiance against her captor. Sly defies Neyla, after she double-crossed him. this is the first encounter between the two after what went down in India and the chase is great. both are defiant in their own way and that’s why their remarks bounce back. and finally, Sly’s defiance towards the Contessa. i mean, she’s been pulling the strings and been suppressing the gang for two episodes straight so it’s only natural for Sly to beat the shit out of her. and again, the dialogue here is absolute gold. there’s even defiance towards Bentley, when Sly doesn’t stick to the plan and goes rogue (lmao). i guess the last theme, or rather motif, here ties into the theme of defiance, because it’s mischief and tricks. i mean, it’s a form of defiance, so there you have it. even though the situation is extreme and the stakes are high, the gang seems to be having as much fun as ever. in Stealing Voices, there’s that great gag with Bentley imitating Neyla. Tank Showdown sees Murray try to fit into that tiny-ass tank in a cartoony manner and then squash all the guards in his way. Ghost Capture has Sly break a coffin in order to unleash pesky ghosts and then try to capture them by taking pictures of them. and i’m sorry, but every time General Clawfoot blurts out gibberish i crack up. there’s contrast between the war’s grimness and the way the gang handles the missions, and it’s great. i guess it’s comedic relief during harsh times.

What I Like: the character development, the themes and the quotes! i mean, analyzing this episode is my favorite thing about it. it’s a reminder that Sly 2 has the best and most well-constructed narrative in the series. favorite detail would have to be the guillotine. it’s so fun cutting the rope and watching it drop. so yea.

What I Don’t Like: i’ll be honest with you - this episode’s missions weren’t the best. they felt like small tasks to build up an excellent, narrative-driven operation. i mean, abducting General Clawfoot was a brief one and Stealing Voices felt too similar to Ghost Capture and Mojo Trap Action. and, sorry SP, but having me drive the tank as Murray twice felt like punishment...

Quote: deciding what gets included here is literally the most difficult thing i’ve ever had to do. how can i pick between utterly ICONIC lines such as Weren't you listening? She was an Evil Wolf Priestess and You're an ignorant child playing dress-up in his father's legacy. the latter never fails to send shivers down my spine. i honestly can’t do it. the whole damn episode is a fucking quote.

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

johnnywyatt wedding outfits cause i... have NO self control. and just do things. for fun. just because i enjoy them. technically for a fic but it’s not done yet so i can’t link that.

i’d like to, in theory, draw an actual illustration with this but i like to design things so that’s what i did instead. maybe in the future. 

post on twitter: link 

re: beadwork:

transcription of what the jewelry detail image says:

“I think it would be nice if Wyatt had a collar stud mounted with some beadwork, as a small thing. BUT. I'm white. And it's really not my place to try to design something like that, with visual language I don't understand and lack the cultural context for.”

idk that i have anything more to add, really, but i want to include some links to some actual Indigenous artists/info about finding them--

profiles of beadwork artists: https://www.vogue.com/vogueworld/article/indigenous-beadwork-instagram-artists-jewelry-accessories 

a contemporary beader/jeweler: http://dorlah.tripod.com/index.html

and Beyond Buckskin's list of Native-run businesses: http://www.beyondbuckskin.com/p/buy-native.html

I have..... words.... about all the rest.

So have a readmore for all my words:

As far as everything else

Here’s my notes on some of that: 

(my condolences if readmores don’t work for you)

For the outfits overall, I wanted them to be a little less... well, boring, for one. I didn’t want to go with simply the traditional tuxedo style so I looked for different kinds of shirts and jackets I could use that were a little less typical but still suitable--though overall this does make them less formal, especially the lack of bowties. 

This works for me cause I was also considering a less formal wedding--still nice and fancy but not like... church-going. not white tie. Not even a huge event. Friends and family, you know?

I’m also just a fan of upright collars. Which I’m sure is tooootally not obvious to anyone who’s seen a lot of my outfit designs through the years. 

I liked Wyatt in all-white. I dunno why. I just thought it worked. That’s very classic but still a little bold. Johnny... I am not sure if I can explain why I ended up choosing the dark colors or the blue velvet... but I like it. The silk lining is SUPPOSEDLY Liberty London but I’m not sure how true that is--it’s from a random Etsy listing that’s actually for a pocket square. lol.

Shoes... shoes.... I just love drawing shoes and I like outfits where the shoes pop. So I went. a little ham. wyatt’s are based on a pair of red leather men’s boots I found on google.. with some modifications so they aren’t just the same as the pair I found--I used a few different references including western and cowboy boots. these red things were the main inspiration though--

For Johnny’s shoes I also used severa different references--mostly women’s Chelsea boots, wanting to retain some of the cowboy boot influence (idk WHY i just thought it was fun and he’s worn cowboy boots a few times), but also a fire-themed pair of suede Louboutin high heels, which is where I got the overall color scheme from--

yes i do collage my refs

as far as jewelry and accessories-- like I said I didn’t feel comfortable trying to design a beadwork collar pin for Wyatt but ideally he would have that small bit of his culture. 

in the WIP fic johnny proposes For Real (after already planning some) with a leather bracelet w/ infinity charm--as you can see. I just thought it was romantic and suited Wyatt’s overall very masculine sense of style... a sparkly diamond ring didn’t seem like the right choice to me, and I kind of wanted them to have the same number of rings. 

Tye mentioned the possibility of Johnny having a matching bracelet too which I had NOT thought of since Wyatt’s return gift was a little less concrete, but it is very cute to think about...

YES johnny is wearing diamond stud earrings. I just think it’s cute.

The cuff links were really just me saving a few varieties of cuff links and seeing what I liked.... just noodling around. I knew I wanted red enamel and I initially wanted some kind of pave diamond settings but I spent so long between saving refs and actually drawing this that I forgot my original idea XD So I just made up a new one. Arguably it fits some of the theming with the wedding rings BECAUSE

the wedding rings are shooting star themed.

i know, it’s corny. call me a cornivore.

moreso i originally wanted to work the infinity into both of their rings but I ended up dropping that mostly.

I saved a lot of pictures of various shooting star and comet themed rings--comet rings are actually an existing style and I looked at those a lot and at various shapes and tried to come up with something that evoked some of those but uh without like. stealing a specific design. I think I managed?

(you can also see peeks at designs for wyatt’s dad’s wedding ring where i decided on the simple 2 diamond band)

Wyatt’s was kind of hard for me to design at first.... though I def wanted some kind of art deco style for some reason? maybe just saw a ring and went, damn that’s cool. but i wanted it to retain the shooting star motif--it went through a few versions trying to work that in until I finished designing Johnny’s and realized something and just simplified Wyatt’s down a lot and let the motif be in the fact that it matched and also had sparkly stones.

As far as material, me and Tye had several entire conversations about heatproof jewelry (for johnny obvs) and i decided no stones, and on using ceramic... I also spent a bit of time looking up jewelry stuff and metal types and eventually settled on black colored titanium carbide (ceramic) for Johnny and on black zirconium for Wyatt, since his doesn’t need to be fireproof. Wyatt's ring has a fire opal (LISTEN. romance.) and gold + diamonds from father's ring (the band with diamonds) and... 

I did it so that even without a stone Johnny’s still was faceted to match the opal on Wyatt’s..... yes.... i know...... i amaze me too.

I’m not actually sure if the process to make the metal black (assuming it’s not naturally black?) would hold under extreme heat but I figure re-blackening is less of an ordeal than like.... making an entire new ring. not that even ceramic would hold up if he went nova, but... that is truly asking a lot lmfaooo he can just put it in a special unstable molecule pouch or something. before he, you know, uses his emergency ultra-huge explosion power. yeah, ring would be the least important in any situation where he burns hot enough to destroy... *squints*... a material used on spacecraft for heat shielding. 

that’s def a ring that has to be very precisely and carefully made. 

....

anyway.

i think... that’s everything..... very long post...... if you read it.... congrats? i’ll probably add a fic link to this post when i actually finish it, not for another month at least tho lol

maybe someday i will get around to drawing an actual drawing using these outfits.

[undignifiend]

Trollhunters Fanfic AU idea: Heartstone Sun

A stupidly long ramble about themes I’m obsessed with. Warnings: mentions of people getting eaten, other horror elements, redemption speculation, and pontificating about hatred, dehumanizing propaganda, and the cycle of abuse (and an idea of how to break those three things). I’d love to write this if I can figure out how to do it justice, but that may take a while. Criticism is welcome; I can’t hone an idea to proper sharpness if I don’t see its dull spots.

What if the sun is actually a Heartstone - like The Great Gramma of all Heartstones (in this solar system, at least)? And was placed under an enchantment/curse by a prehistoric human coven that Had Enough because trolls outclassed humans in pretty much every arena, and people were getting eaten with impunity by extremely durable apex predators that laughed at their sticks and slings and fire? It's not like trolls really needed to eat humans - these mofos were powered by the sun (and could probably do crazy magic with all that excess power, to boot) - they just like how we taste.

Though perhaps humans also have a knack for passively absorbing Hearstone energies, and that's what they used to essentially poison the Heartstone against Trollkind? And that same passive absorption is why humans make good supplements for trolls who don't have a Heartstone to rely on, as shown in the comics? Since trolls couldn't gain Heartstone energy directly from the sun during the night, if they were injured and/or had a hankering, they'd have to eat creatures that still could. So maybe trolls tended to mostly eat people at night back then when they needed a quick boost because they couldn't get sunlight? And perhaps this contributed toward a more intense, visceral fear of the dark in humanity's evolution - like our common fear of the dark, but on steroids?

Gunmar's comment about "They try to make the night brighter. They fear the darkness," not only speaks to real human fears of the dark, but a mentality that was essentially beaten into Pleistocene-Era humans by impossibly strong and scary opponents (though I love the idea of some troll groups teaming up with humans and having various mutually-beneficial symbiotic shenanigans).

You could see all manner of behavioral, instinctive differences in these humans based on that. From a death-like, numbing paralysis intended to spare them the agony of their last moments, to an overwhelming itch to hide when it grows dark, to a need to sleep in groups for protection, etc... I imagine most beds in most cultures would be in hidden places within a house. Some cultures might even develop "false bedrooms" as traditional parts of their home to trick trolls or evil spirits that are more inclined to hunt with stealth.

This is partly inspired from a weird experience I had one night where I got this sudden, intense fear, and I've never experienced it since, and I still can't figure out what caused it. But some part of me felt a hostile presence in the woods by the house, and I knew it was far too powerful to fight, and I had the overwhelming urge to shut off all the lights, quiet everything that was making noise, and huddle in a closet until whatever it was passed. "Don't let it know you're here," kept playing in my head. I imagine being a human in this AU, especially in the Bad Old Days, would feel a lot like that.

After the Sun Curse (but before humanity regards trolls as myth), I imagine a common survival rule would be: Travel by day (when trolls can't, or at least have a harder time of it), and hide by night (so you don't run into them; if they find you, make them work for it, don't give yourself away).

Humans in this AU love to fancy themselves apex predators not simply as a power trip, but a denial of their true position in the food chain as prey. They can lie to themselves all they like, but their instincts remember and know better.

So to give humanity a fighting chance, this prehistoric coven developed a powerful spell to make the sun toxic to trolls, which would allow humans safety under the sun, which until then, had been a main source of power and sustenance for trollkind.

As an unforeseen catastrophe of apocalyptic proportions, much of trollkind's lore at the time was lost as they scrambled to deal with this development. Their cultures had to adapt, and new lore and methods of dealing with this catastrophe overtook lost histories (mostly verbal at the time). There was very little evidence left of how the sun was cursed, or that humans were behind it - the coven responsible did their utmost to destroy any sign or record of what they did, knowing that such information would rally trollkind against humankind. And even if trolls were weakened without their most sacred life source, they were still a dangerous enough threat that, if they could cooperate with each other, they'd surely wipe humanity out.

They almost succeeded in destroying all knowledge of it, but a certain tribe connected to a certain Heartstone found out, and their resulting fury at this act of desecration gave rise to Gunmar the Black.

This curse would be a deep source of anger and resentment at humanity for having stolen not only trollkind's ability to roam freely on their own world (which they were the dominant species on), but for poisoning a vital and sacred life-source. This is what Gunmar would be talking about when he talks about 'taking back the surface lands'. It's not just propaganda to him, it's his peoples' birthright, and it was stolen from them, and he emerged to set it right. This coven may have acted out of self-defense, but what they did was an unforgivable act of desecration. Gunmar and his Gumm-Gumms would still see it that way, but over time, as humanity loses their knowledge of trolls and turns their attentions toward each other, the rest of trollkind moves on and adapts and forgets their hatred, or their history of having once owned the world. The Gumm-Gumms are still angry about an ancient injustice, and the rest of trollkind, now believing themselves to have always lived underground, sees this 'take back the surface lands' talk as warmongering propaganda against a group that is seen as relatively ridiculous and tasty, but now off-limits depending on who follows the Pact.

While on that note, I imagine Gunmar would find the Pact outrageous and absurd. Humanity has no end to hold up in return, it's basically a heavy restriction on trolls who have already had so much taken from them. It's adding insult to injury, and that any troll would agree to it galls him to no end.

Before the curse, trolls ate fleshlings because we taste good and are satisfying sources of indirect Heartstone energy. Now, Gumm-Gumms also eat humans as an act of rebellion and punishment for what their ancestors did.

CHARACTER PROFILES:

JIM

I love Jim. But I think I'm going to handle him a bit differently in this AU than how he is in canon because I see an opportunity to say something important and relevant to a possible theme of this AU, and I'm not sure canon Jim would really be up for that.

I love the warm, nurturing, gentle side of Jim, and how he likes taking care of his friends. I love how he loves cooking for them, which is the quintessential nurturing act. I love how protective he is of his friends and his mom, and how even though he has made mistakes, he makes those mistakes with protective intentions. His heart's in the right place. This is the side of Jim who looks at Rule #2: Always Finish the Fight, and says "No," and spares Draal's life, and takes care of Chompsky instead of 'taking care of him', and risks precious time to go back for Nomura. This is the Jim I love, and the side of him I want to focus on in this AU.

And that side of him (it seems to me) clashes rather loudly with the other side of him that refuses to apply Rule #1 to Strickler in favor of rebellious mouthing-off, and treats the deaths of his enemies with sassy quips.

With regards to my attitude about that last part, I blame Faramir from Lord of the Rings. His brief monologue about 'the enemy' was formative for me. He fought to protect his people, and in doing so, he had to kill other people. And he didn’t hide from that fact. He had the strength and honesty to both do what he had to do, and to acknowledge that tragedy. He didn't try to diminish their deaths, and I cannot stress enough how important that is to me to see in a protagonist. So in this idea, Jim can be sassy in some cases, and he will kill if he believes he has to, but #2 is a last resort, and when it comes to that, he won't lie to himself or diminish what has happened.

Seeing someone as an obstacle or problem is a crucial step in making it easy to hurt or kill them, and it's one of the goals of particularly dangerous forms of propaganda: dehumanize the enemy. It's a perspective shift that makes fighting easier, but I believe it's one of the very worst lies we can ever tell ourselves or each other.

Acknowledging someone as a person, and not an obstacle or a problem, is (potentially) a powerful way to break the perception that you yourself are an obstacle or problem. If you want a chance to see someone’s relatability/"humanity", you first have to show yours. And they won’t always see it, and even if they do, they won’t always care – you might be hurt or killed anyway. But I think this re-framing is a crucial step in non-violent conflict resolution (in particularly intense cases). It’s risky as hell, so it’s not very popular, but when successful, it broadens perspectives and opens new paths in their minds. And I think that's a powerful and worthy theme; one that Jim could champion. A better way to Finish The Fight.

GUNMAR

In this AU, Gunmar has plans that stretch far beyond the Eternal Night (which, in this AU, would instead be a cure for the curse). From his perspective, he's trying to piece the world back together after several Apocalyptic-Grade Disasters. He's bitter and stressed, but he has stayed tenacious and ambitious despite millennia of warfare, failure, and being forgotten by the vast majority of the world while trapped in the Darklands. He's trying to lead his people out of a bad situation and restore their birthright, and he's annoyed and angry with the significant number of trolls who accept the current status quo when they could have so much more.

Because Gunmar emerged from a corrupted Heartstone and doesn't seem to have parents (perhaps no tribe/clan/colony? I love the extra-spooky supernatural vibe it grants him) I like the idea of him wanting his own tribe. He had a son whom he seemed to care for, and their regard for each other was the one and only thing in canon (in my mind) that elevated Gunmar. I'd like to capitalize on that in this AU. Gunmar was born tribeless, as a symbol of trollkind's general animosity toward humanity, but he obviously doesn't want to stay tribeless. He wants to establish his own line; he wants to create a future for his descendants to thrive in. His ultimate goal isn't so much about putting humans in their place as it is about giving his own people the prosperous future he thinks they deserve. To those who follow him, he's not their tyrant; he's their hero. His aggression is largely directed at humanity, but his goals are NOT human-centric after all.

Gunmar’s backstory (in canon) fascinates me. He was born from a Heartstone that had been transformed by the trollish population’s animosity toward humankind. I think this was supposed to reflect the classic Evil Corruption you see in a lot of fantasy, and leans on a kind of Victorian notion of "bad breeding" and the idea that because he emerged from evil conditions, he is evil by nature. But I think it’s more interesting to look at it as a wound, because that gives his anger a sharper sense of purpose that I think it otherwise lacks. Gunmar manifested from a rift between two populations, and has used the hatred that formed that wound to try and heal it – by taking the surface world and devouring the impudent humans who stole it. The method of devouring them didn’t simply develop because we taste good – it’s also a punishment, born of that same hatred, that says: “You thought you were better, but you are lesser. You wanted a vaunted place for yourself at great cost to us, but your true place is as nothing more than our food. This is what you deserve for trying to shut me and my kind out of our own world, and poisoning something sacred against us.” (referencing the curse on the Heartstone Sun, not the Killahead Banishment, which would come much later).

That may seem to him like a perfectly reasonable way to fix what he sees himself as (both literally and symbolically) born to fix. But even if all his dreams were to come true, that hatred would persist throughout the myriad abuses he would inflict upon humanity (if he’d bother to keep us around as livestock and/or slaves), and long outlast the last of the human population. It would linger, it would continue to fester, and it would be poised to be unleashed upon whatever other sufficiently threatening group crosses trollkind next. After all, that method ‘worked’ on humanity.

But you don’t quench hatred or fix abuse by indulging it. You fix it by learning (and accepting) the truth: no one is a mere obstacle, object, problem, or hated symbol. You did not deserve the abuses you suffered, but re-creating them and re-living them will not put you in control of them or absolve you in any way. (Though the temporary illusion of control may become addictive, it will remain fleeting and false). Abuse, if you let it define you, begets abuse. If Gunmar had achieved all his goals, sooner or later, he’d see his own reflection in a human born of the horrors he inflicted, and of the hatred humanity would have for him and his kind. This human would not see trollkind as anything other than a problem that they were born to solve, just as Gunmar sees humankind. But this would not surprise him at all, because that’s how Gunmar already thinks humans see trollkind. It’s easy to hate someone if you think they hate you. And it would not matter who would win that conflict, because the hatred and abuse would survive to be re-created and re-lived and inflicted on whoever the winner meets next. Nothing would be learned, and no one would heal.

I don’t know what would show Gunmar the truth, much less in a way that would matter to him. But in keeping with Jim's best tendencies in avoiding Rule #2, I think it's necessary for Jim to make the attempt in this AU. Whether or not this would result in Gunmar getting a redemption arc doesn't exactly matter - this is really about Jim's efforts to be the best guardian he can be for two interlinked worlds with a lot of bad blood between them, and I want to do those efforts justice. I don't currently know how, but I have some idea of where to start.

I think two key parts of non-violent conflict resolution are convincing the other party that 1) you care about the same thing they do, and 2) you either can make it easier to achieve, you see a better path to achieving it, or you may be able to improve the final outcome beyond what they originally thought or hoped was possible.

In this case, the goal for both sides is to heal that ancient wound between trollkind and humankind. It’s the plan that everybody disagrees about. Protagonists and antagonists (often, but not always) both ultimately want the same thing – they just disagree about what that’s supposed to look like, or how to achieve it.

Currently, I think that to truly heal, trolls and humans have to come to terms with each other. This is no small undertaking - it would change the world irrevocably - and might never be fully achieved, even after centuries of dedicated work on both sides. A healthy relationship (regardless of it’s nature) isn’t something you achieve and consider Done; it’s dynamic, it’s lived, it requires constant attention and respect, and the acknowledgment that it may change irrevocably as life throws its weird curve-balls. Most of all, it requires a dedicated effort to understand the other person. The surest way to kill a positive relationship is to allow oneself, during times of hardship, to slip into the mindset of seeing that person as an obstacle, problem, or symbol, rather than continue the effort of trying to understand them or why they’re acting difficult. And that’s just taking failing positive relationships into account. Consider all the hardship that comes from starting from a mindset of seeing people as obstacles or problems, and you could see hate-crimes between the populations. Now consider how many trolls and humans may interact with each other as they try to move forward together, and you can get some idea of how easily everything can fall apart, back into the same attitudes that led to the same wound that Gunmar manifested from.

And that’s not even touching on how trolls would have to watch their strength and their tempers around delicate little humans (even the ornery ones), and how humans would have to put a certain amount of trust, patience, and good faith in a group that was, in the past, known for eating them (and that still thinks they taste delicious). It will be easier for some than for others, but for those others, it may feel impossible.

I’m not saying it can’t be done. I believe it’s necessary and worthwhile. But I also believe it’s important to not downplay how difficult it would be. It would be stressful, it would come with times of crisis and doubt, and some might give up entirely, and it would be up to the rest to persevere despite the inevitable tragic incidents; to be brave, and not take such incidents as proof that peace is impossible. “Fear (if you don’t let it rule you) is but the precursor to valor.”

There would be hate-crimes (committed by both sides) between the groups. And there would be heroes (from both sides) rushing in to stop them. And there would also be vigils, gatherings of both humans and trolls, in honor of the victims who couldn’t be saved in time, and in solidarity, in honor of the peace they’re working for together. And I think, in that act of mourning and solidarity, therein lies their victory.

Love and grief are some of the most powerful, relatable (rather than ‘humanizing’ which is an embarrassingly ironic and limited word, especially in this context) emotions out there. And I think it’s that relatability that has the power to reveal people as more than obstacles or problems.

I doubt witnessing it would cause every Gumm-Gumm to reconsider their stance on humanity, much less Gunmar himself, but it could be a little step toward a better path; a seed of doubt – a check to keep them honest when they try to tell themselves tales of what humans and troll ‘traitors’ want, or deserve.

Another thing I imagine might challenge Gunmar’s perceptions has to do with the Decimaar blade. At first, I wasn’t sure what it’s supposed to symbolize in the show other than as an explanation for why anyone would follow someone so careless with their lives. It would also explain why no one assassinated him while he was weakened and starving in the Darklands. (Curiously, no one else seemed to be starving, and I’m not sure what to make of that. I think I missed something important.)

At first, I thought the Decimaar blade symbolized the ultimate hatred/abuse: it enslaves, it wipes out its victims' identities; it turns people into objects to be used by their master, and obstacles to be rid of by their enemies. There’s no loyalty involved, no sacrifice – nothing of meaning that is gained from willing service is preserved. It is simply the use of others – abuse made manifest. In that, I saw the Decimaar blade as an extension of Gunmar himself; a symptom of the conditions of his birth. The cruel irony here was that he had the power to turn his own people into the exact, flat, threatening (obstacles/problems) monsters humanity expected them to be. So from this, Gunmar wasn’t just born from trollkind’s hatred, but humanity’s, too. And just like with abuse un-dealt with, un-treated, he perpetuates it.

And then I learned that the Decimaar blade was won from Orlagk, so there goes that idea. Or at least the part of it being a part of Gunmar. But somehow now, I feel that helps it fit even better; I don’t currently think the Cycle of Abuse starts with Nature (in the whole Nurture vs Nature argument). I currently think abuse (in all it’s myriad forms, intentional or not) is inherited. Gunmar may have emerged from hateful conditions, and he may have inherited a direct metaphor for coercive abuse, and he may pass it on, but it’s not truly a part of him. Therein lies a little glimmer of hope that he might eventually see it for what it is - what it's doing to him and his people (who he was born to protect and provide for as a leader) - and reject Decimaar not only as a weapon, but as a way of thinking.

I'm a sucker for redemption arcs. I'm not sure I can give Gunmar one, or if I should even try. But I think in this, Jim has to make the effort to try to understand Gunmar and what he wants, and to convince him that there is a better way. Whether this version of Gunmar (eventually - I imagine it wouldn't come easy if it happens at all) takes him up on it or not, I don't know.

IF I go for it, though, I want to do it justice. Redemption is not about forgiveness or acquittal. Redemption is about climbing, no matter how far you’ve fallen, and even if you can never reach the top, you can still try to give others a boost along the way. Redemption (just like a relationship) isn’t achieved; it’s lived. And it doesn't necessarily mean joining the Good Guys. You won't see Gunmar Reformed agonizing about all the blood (human and trollish) he has spilled, or asking "Haven't I redeemed myself?" Gunmar Reformed (at least the way I'd hope to write him) may still have a great deal of contempt for humans in general, but he has learned enough about them that he can no longer see them in simplistic terms. He may privately think on What Could Have Been had he changed his perspective sooner, but he doesn't have the time or patience to dwell on regrets - the world is still hecked up, and he still has work to do (although the nature of that work has changed dramatically). I imagine if Gunmar changes his plans, he'll chase his new objectives his own way. The Trollhunters might have occasional, tenuous, scary, and unpredictable alliances with him when their goals align, but it might be a stretch to call them allies - a lot has happened, both sides are still angry with each other, but they've come to an understanding and have a degree of mutual respect, and can demonstrate enough good faith in one another to surprise each other. Gunmar will still have all his old ferocity, he'll just be channeling it in a new direction.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Jazz?

Author: Saintli

Year: 2010

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Howince

Vince sat with his socked toes pressing up against Howard's leg, his mug of hot cider wafting steam into the air. It was Friday, he was home, it was dark out and he was drinking cider and feeling giddy. This sort of behavior was only acceptable on Christmas Eve, in his opinion. He stirred his cider with his cinnamon stick and watch Howard stare at the flickering Christmas lights on the tree. Vince dug his big toe into Howard's thigh. "What do you hope Santa brings you?" he asked with a grin. Howard can't really tell if Vince is being cheeky or if he really still believes in Santa Clause. Either way he answers honestly "Cool Boppin'. Original LP." He turned his tired eyes to Vince, who was staring sheepishly at him from under his fringe. "And if you got a glitter and macaroni belt, you'd be fine with that too, right?" Howard felt a weary smile part his lips. "Yeah, I'd be just fine with that. I'm going to head off to bed. You coming?" "Nah. I'm just gonna watch the snow fall for a little while, yeah? I'll be in in a few." Howard nodded and internally sighed with relief. He still needed to wrap Vince's gift. Howard said his 'good nights' before trying not to run to their bedroom. He locked the door behind him and dropped to his knees to pull the box from under his bed. It was a cherry red laptop with silver lightening bolts. He had to have it special ordered. Howard got out his ruler and sellotape and carefully started sectioning off the wrapping paper. He folded up the edges with great care, treating it with all the seriousness of bomb dismantling. Howard sat back on his haunches to admire his handiwork. He congratulated himself on his fine craftsmanship as he tiptoed down the corridor to check on Vince. He was passed out cold on the sofa. Howard smiled, placing a blanket over him and tiptoed back into their room to get the present to put under the tree. ****** Christmas morning Howard acted surprised and pleased to have received a macaroni and glitter belt while Vince ran his hands over the present Naboo handed him. The one Howard spent 27.8 minutes wrapping and Vince spent all of three seconds dismantling. Vince let out a sound that was frighteningly similar to the scream of Nanatoo and clutched the box to his chest. "Howard! I--I--" Vince stammered. "Did he finally propose, Vince?" Naboo lisped sarcastically next to him, reaching for his arm to move it and get a better view of the side of the box. "Don't get too excited," Howard said, getting embarrassed "I only bought it because you've been tying up the shop computer all day. Don't touch me!" Howard squeaked, Vince's arms thrown 'round his neck. "This is genius, Howard! I'm going to go try it out, yeah?" Naboo craned his neck to watch Vince skip merrily down the corridor to the bedroom. When the door slammed shut, he pulled something out from between the sofa cushions and slid it across the floor to Howard. It was the original LP of Cool Boppin'. Howard looked up at the tiny shaman with disbelief. "Don't get too excited," Naboo lisped sarcastically, taking another pull off the hookah (which Bollo had decorated with tinsel) "I only bought it because you've been listening to the one in the shop all day." ****** Howard doesn't see Vince for the rest of the day, other than to bring him food and cups of tea. "What do you do on there all day, anyway?" he asks Vince's screen-illuminated profile later that night as he's lying in bed. "What can't you do online all day?! Since I've been sat here, yeah, I've downloaded every album Gary Numan ever recorded, bought a brilliant pair of boots and I'm now debating whose better--Jagger or Iggy Pop. Genius!" Howard was thankful Vince was too distracted to notice the look of apprehension clearly engraved on his face. Howard dreamt of warding off machines that were trying to kidnap Vince. ****** Howard woke in the middle of the night. His insomnia was getting worse. Since he gave Vince the computer, they'd been spending less and less time together. Howard quickly discovered he was becoming something he'd never been in his life---bored shitless. He pulled on his bathrobe and shuffled down the corridor to the kitchen. In the time it took him to put the kettle on and make himself some tea, he was fully awake. Howard grumbled to himself, scanning the flat with a sweeping glance and looking for something to do. The computer in the corner of the room caught his eye--the monitor gathering dust from its disuse. He shrugged to himself and shuffled in its direction, sitting down on the squeaking desk chair and hitting the power button. He'd used a computer before. Twice to look up recipes. A few more times to search for the guitar chords to songs he couldn't play by ear. But every time he logged on, he always had a purpose. Howard sighs and goes to Google. And spends nearly ten minutes staring at the screen. Finally, he types in 'Jazz' and hits 'enter'. He's directed to more links than he can count and decides to narrow his search to 'Jazz lovers'. This time the links are fewer, but terribly embarrassing, as he realizes they lead mostly to obscure jazz porn sites. He blushes, thinks about clicking on one, nixes the idea and scrolls up. He's about to change his search words from 'jazz lovers' to 'jazz enthusiasts' when he sees a link to a question on Yahoo Answers that looks interesting. He clicks on it. Resolved Question Sexy Jazz Song? My boyfriend is a jazz lover. I myself can't really stand it, but our 1st anniversary is coming up and I'd like to play some jazz to commemorate the occasion, if you know what I mean. Are there any sexy jazz songs that won't make me throw up in my mouth? Howard's lips twitched up into a smile. S'nice of her. He scrolled down further to read the reply. I quite like "Love Theme From Spartacus" by Bill Evans. One line. Ten words. Howard's heart skipped a beat. "Love Theme From Spartacus" was not only one of the most underrated and overlook songs in jazz (in his opinion), it was also the song he wanted to lose his virginity to. He checked the user name of the person. It read "R&RStarr". Howard clicked on the name to bring up the profile page. R&RStarr's profile page yielded two links for Howard to choose from: R&R's personal email address and a link to something called 'Live Journal'. These were the only two things listed on his or her profile. Howard sat there for a moment, contemplating the links. He didn't want to just email this person out of the blue to talk about jazz. That would seem weird. But it would be an exciting change of pace to have someone new to discuss jazz with.... He clicked on the Live Journal link. It was another profile page, which Howard took the time to read through carefully. This time the user name was jggrizgod. Connect Interests (13): Aerosmith, Bowie, Cartoons, David Bowie, Gorillas, Iggy Pop, Jagger, Jazz, Lady Gaga, Pop, Sugary cereal, Sex, Telly. There between Mick Jagger and Lady Gaga was 'jazz', which seemed highly unlikely. But, curiously, instead of disappointing Howard, it only intrigued him. Well, it wouldn't be creepy if I made myself an account on here to talk to a fellow jazz lover, would it?Howard mused to himself. He got to typing. Twenty minutes later, Howard T.J. Moon starting his new online life as "daddy_noise". ******** Howard spent a total of twenty-seven minutes concocting the final draft of his message.

'jggrizgod' sent a reply in less than three minutes.

Howard stared at the last line for a while. Sexy. Someone thought of him as sexy. Well, only just my user name, the rational half of his brain said. Yeah, but who came up with that name, hmm? That's right. You did, tiger. chimed in his decidedly more neurotic half. While he was normally more inclined to ignore his neurotic half (and was trying desperately to do so as he re-read the message), he couldn't help but to smile a little as he drew up an outline for his reply.

[angelqueen04]

ASOIAF Fic Recs

Had an anon ask for some recs and um... yeah, I decided to post it separately because, I may have, um, gone a little overboard. Lots of different pairings involved below.

Yeah. 

Born-a-Girl Fics

I have an enormous love for these stories, as it's so much fun to see how the various dynamics of the Starks, and indeed, all of Westeros change when the one thing Rhaegar was wrong about in canon becomes something he was right about after all.

All of Madrigal-in-Training's stories on AO3, her profile being located here. I'd read a few born-a-girl!Jon stories before I started reading her work and had enjoyed the genre, but after I read her stuff, I damn near became obsessed. (Did I say ‘near’? I lied, there’s no ‘near’ about it - I did become obsessed. I admit it.) Most of her fics are WiPs, but she updates fairly frequently, so her stories are definitely worth following.

The Acquaint the Flesh series, by Author376.  In a Westeros where Soulmates are bound and Marked by the Gods to bind Houses together and pay blood debts, Lyarra Snow and Oberyn Martell are about to get a shock. The born-a-girl!Jon story to end all born-a-girl!Jon stories. I have re-read this series at least a hundred times and I still squee my head off every single time. The gods throwing together two complete opposites, an OFC who is so much fun, a Frey we can actually like, and that's barely scratching the surface! The series is also a WiP, but don't let that put you off.

And I'm calling for my mother as I pull the pillars down, by dwellingondreams.  Elia Martell becomes the Lady of Casterly Rock due to her mother's machinations. Robarra Baratheon becomes a princess due to the Mad King's obsession with finding a bride of Targaryen blood. The seeds of rebellion are planted all the same. JFC, who knew that Elia/Tywin could be possible? Well, in a world where Robert Baratheon is born Robarra Baratheon and is quickly snatched up to be Rhaegar's wife, it seems that it is. Of course, this switch up does not prevent Aerys and Rhaegar from setting the world on fire because they're either insane or obsessed with prophecy or both. Still, the affects of this change-up are really fun.

empire (i'm building it with all i know), by willowoftheriver.  Fem!Jon Snow is discovered to be a Targaryen as a chld, triggering an unfortunate marriage. Femslash ahoy! Viserys is still a nutjob, though. Words cannot express how much I love this two-shot series.

Oh, mercy, I implore, by SecondStarOnTheLeft. She collects friends with the same ease she conceives healthy babes - so her goodmother tells her, something soft and wistful in her sad eyes, and Berta cannot disagree. A different crown princess, and a different world. Jeez, but I do love these gender-flipped fics. This one is fun too. Girl!Robert isn’t taking any crap from Rhaegar, no sir.

Time-Travel or Fix-It stories

Three Tully Daughters, by ProcrastinationIsMyCrime.  Conflicts for the Iron Throne before the darkest hour led to the defeat of the living on Westeros. Jon must have known the fate of men for he’d drugged and snuck his sisters onto a ship set for Braavos. That had been the last time either Stark daughter had seen Jon. Upon Arya's death, Sansa encounters a Dornish bachelor in Braavos who by all rights should be dead. Armed with knowledge held by no other, she would sail for Westeros and save her home; for she was in the reign of Aerys II Targaryen. There would be less chaos for Littlefinger this time. Joffrey would never be born if she could help it. Cersei would never sit the Iron Throne. A time-travel story that actually doesn't solve the insertion process by having the character in question (Sansa, in this case) be reborn into a new family. A very ASOIAF twist! I was a bit wary of the Sansa/Jaime pairing at first, but in this story it works, OMG it works. Sheer brilliance. WiP.

Valar Botis (All Men Must Serve), by sanva.  “But you, Lord Snow, you’ll be fighting their battles forever.” Ser Alliser Thorne Every time he died his last in that life he awoke again in another at the exact moment of Ghost's birth. Jon Snow is the King of Groundhog Day. What more needs to be said? ;)

Aegon the Unlikely-era Fics

You and I conspire and split the ground, by SecondStarOnTheLeft.  Grandfather's boots are next, soft and worn where Father's are always polished to gleaming, and then Grandfather's hands, and then his face. He looks tired, under his beard, under his crown, but he is smiling when he reaches under the bed to her. "My sister Daella used hide under her bed with her dollies, when we were small," he says, his voice very quiet and very gentle. "Will you come out, poppet? Your grandmother and I would like to speak with you a little, if we may." Wherein Aegon the Unlikely actually doesn't wash his hands of his kids and their obsession with prophecies, wherein Rhaella Targaryen is the ultimate sweetheart who deserves Nice Things, and wherein Rhaelle Targaryen is a total badass. I have a huge love of the family of Aegon the Unlikely and their antics, and this fic is a favorite of mine.

Behind the Ballads, by Ramzes.  Jenny of Oldstones and her prince were a favourite theme for singers, their romance making them larger than life. What were they like in life? I absolutely love this behind-the-songs look into the life of Duncan the Small, and seeing just WTF he was thinking. Utterly brilliant. I'd also recommend you look at Ramzes' other work. She has at least two series about Rhaelle Targaryen, one that covers the same time frame as this one (but is not connected to this story), and one that is a series of AUs featuring what might have happened if Rhaelle had lived to the era of Robert's Rebellion. Definitely worth a look.

Coins, by ariel2me. QUOTE SWAP: Rhaelle Targaryen + “What sort of father uses his own flesh and blood to pay his debts?” Oh, the heart. It breaks. 

Crack Fics

Ned Stark Adopts His Way Through Westeros, by witchbreaker.  "This isn't my fault." And other lies Eddard Stark tells himself. A short fic inspired in the comments of Acquaint the Flesh, it is probably one of the funniest stories ever, not to mention adorable. Also, read the comments, as there is a hysterical little extra piece in there dreamed up by a responder and the author. The best.

A Helpful FAQ, by Siamesa. In a world where Renly Baratheon accidentally spent the War of Four Kings on vacation in Dorne, surviving King Stannis's small council meetings takes a clear understanding of people and politics. Luckily, he's here to provide both... or so he thinks. Ohdearlord, this one still makes me LMAO, even after having practically memorized it. Hilarious.

The Dragon and the Maiden, by modbelle. Viserys brings the Stark girl Joffrey's head. He's surprised by her reaction to this. He'd expected her to be upset, but she seems quite delighted by this. What a strangely charming creature she is, even if she is a Stark. Yeah, this one came out of left field for me, but holy crap who knew such a thing could somehow work?

AU Fics

Desert Wolves, by bluegoldrose.  "But Ashara’s daughter had been stillborn, and his fair lady had thrown herself from a tower soon after..." ~Ser Barristan Selmy What if Ashara's daughter lived? What if Ashara Dayne raised Jon Snow alongside her own bastard? What if Ned Stark never stopped loving Ashara even when he fell in love with Catelyn? The bastards of Lord Eddard Stark are the Desert Wolves. The true born children of Lord Eddard Stark are the Winter Wolves. Their lives are lived apart until the tides of war see fit to bring them together. Ashara/Ned is a ship that I cling to, and one that I am always on the lookout for in regards to fics. This one is one of my favorites, particularly since neither Catelyn nor Ashara is demonized. It's a WiP, and hasn't been updated in a while, but I'm still hopeful that the last few chapters will eventually be posted.

Winter's Crown, by orphan_account.  What if Rickard Stark had other ambitions? Or, a history of the Starks, from Torrhen to Rickard, in a world where they spent two and a half centuries building up their wealth and waiting for the perfect moment to declare their independence. A twist/expansion on all that we learned from World of Ice and Fire. Very interesting.

Lightning (Struck Before Me), by sanva.  “Send the letters,” her voice came out clear, unwavering, resolute, “request House Stark, Arryn, and Tully send representatives to treat and bend the knee.” Wherein Jon discovers something long hidden deep in the crypts of Winterfell and everything changes. This fic is part of a series, and I'm not sure if any more will be posted for it, but this is still fun to read on its own. A mix of book and show.

Dragonstone, by Danivat.  After the death of his brother, Robert Baratheon needs a loyalist Lord on Dragonstone. He also really wants back in Ned's good graces. Or, the Game goes on after the Rebellions. The Starks still won't play, but everyone is playing the Game all around them, and Jon Sand has somehow become an important piece. Robert Baratheon, unknowingly, is the Targaryens' greatest asset. This one could fall under either the category of AU or Crack, or perhaps both. There are quite a few divergent points, and they are listed in the notes at the start of the story so you will not be hopelessly lost. Very fun.

One Day (Is Now and Forever), by SimplexityJane.  Rhaegar takes Lyanna to Dragonstone, not Dorne. This story had the potential to be a complete and utter epic, but it also stands wonderfully as it is.

Kingdoms at War, by deathwalker.  What if Ned Stark wasn't executed at the Great Sept of Baelor? Instead, what if, he had been removed from Kingslanding before Joffrey could give the order for his head? What impact would this have had on the Game of Thrones? I've called this fic a "small step to the left" in the past, and it is so much fun, particularly since it’s based on a question we have all asked ourselves. Though, be prepared - this is a long one.

The Duel, by Aiur. The duel between Robb and Joffrey goes differently than anyone predicts.  Be prepared to shed a few tears here. That’s all I’m sayin’.

The Dragon’s Queen, by orphan_account. Aerys married his eldest son off to Elia Martell immediately after Viserys's birth instead of sending his cousin to Essos, and she bore Rhaegar three children before dying in labor with the last. Rhaegar is therefore a young widower when he crowns Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty during the tourney at Harrenhal, and Aerys decides that his son will marry the lady. Here are seven letters Lyanna Stark sent in another world. I really love epistolary stories, and this one is so interesting. I wish there was more of it, because it hints at so much more. Very fun.

But you are of the North, by LuminaCarina. Ned Stark doesn’t visit from the Eyrie. Brandon, Lyanna and Benjen adjust. Very interesting idea.

The Squire of Dragonstone, by EmynIthilien.  Instead of joining the Night's Watch, Jon travels south to squire for Stannis on Dragonstone. Roughly spanning the events of A Game of Thrones through A Storm of Swords, Stannis and Jon investigate the royal incest mess, fight battles in and out of the courtroom, attend a joyous wedding, and come to rely on each other more than they ever expected. I call this one “Sherlock!Stannis and Watson!Jon”. A great trilogy of stories where things are actually taken care of, and in a legal-ish way!

The Lady of Storm’s End, by Sarah_Black. Sansa was supposed to marry someone brave, gentle and strong. Lord Stannis Baratheon was not what she had in mind. Or: The one where Sansa is never betrothed to Joffrey, never loses Lady, and only comes to King's Landing to attend King Robert's wedding feast. The king is marrying Margaery Tyrell as Cersei's treason has been exposed and dealt with. But things are never simple when the Iron Throne is in desperate need of heirs and wildlings threaten the peace... Another pairing that is a bit weird, but the author makes it work beautifully! The story is also inspired by The Squire of Dragonstone listed above, though it is not necessary to read it. The author explains anything you need to know in the opening notes. 

broken lovers series, by soapboxblues. wherein rhaegar wins the war, and jaime manages to keep his head by taking a stark for a wife I never knew Lyanna/Jaime could somehow be possible, but this series proved it to me. There are so many wonderful things about this series, I can’t even.

Kindness, Not Fear, by SecondStarOnTheLeft. In the wake of Daenerys' triumph, Sansa comes to King's Landing. Multi-POV post-series short fic.  An older story, but one that I still love to pieces. 

The Lion Queen, by Laine. I am the first of my kind, and the bards will sing of me for centuries after I'm gone. Ned Stark takes the Iron Throne, and he intends to share it with his Queen. Yeah, pretty sure I was going to hell for liking this pairing, but nonetheless, I do love it. Plus, a non-crazy Cersei. How often do we see her?

I Fear No Fate (For You Are My Fate, My Sweet), by vixleonard. Myrcella Baratheon always knew she would be married to a man for a political alliance. What she did not know was that she was going to be left in the North at 8-years-old to one day become the wife of Robb Stark and just how much it would change her life. I think this was one of the first ASOIAF fics that I bookmarked, and I still come back to it from time to time. A classic.

[tyffanyh]

10 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @blogherosix to do the 10 questions tag! Thank you!!! <3 Rules: Answer the ten questions, create ten of your own, tag ten people. 1. Who is your favorite character to write? Why? Jyn is probably my favorite to write... he kind of does what he wants and it’s fun. I never know what he’s going to do. ;) 2. What is the strangest/funniest/most notable piece of feedback you’ve gotten from a reader? My editor sent my the most hilarious and adorable red squirrel meme when my protagonist finally kissed her love interest. His little arms were thrown up in the “omg finally” stance and I died. Does that count?? 3. Your book is going to be a TV show! And it’s going to last way more seasons than material in your actual book. What other subplots would be cool to see play out on the screen? A lot of my character backstories are only touched upon, so those would be cool additional story bits. Plus, after the third book, there will be an epilogue but their lives will go on. So. Plenty to work with ;) 4. What made you want to be a writer? I just love to write. Even when I was younger I scribbled stories in notebooks. I was the kid that played outside and acted out re-tellings of fairytales in my back yard. (I was almost always, somehow, Pocahontas) When I got older and life got harder, writing was an escape. My characters, or some of them, are close to my heart because they were the closest thing I had to friends some days. And when I couldn’t write, I had books. The idea that I could write a story that could help someone else escape is a big part of the reason I want to be an author. Words have been my life, all my life. 5. Plotter? Pantser? Plantser? Pantser, pantser, pantser. And I’m kicking myself in the rear for it :P 6. What song describes your WIP best? My current WIP... I’m not far enough to be sure. I’ve been listening to a lot of Invincible by Two Steps from Hell though. I like to joke that “Get Back Up Again” from Trolls is my protagonist’s theme song for Imber though. xD 7. What’s something you know about your main character that won’t make it in the book? Erm. I really had to think about this one because over three books you’ll learn SO much about Nat. I’m not sure if this will go in the books or not, but the reason she wears her boots with such attachment is because of her father - he always wore boots, everywhere. She got into the habit because of him, and now she carries it on without him. 8. If you had to ship your character with someone other than the love interest who would it be and why? Can I ship her with Rhysand? Because, well. Rhysand. 9. What are you goals for your WIP? Get the first draft done before November (dunno if that’ll happen but xD ) so I can do first revisions for NaNoWriMo. 10. How can I learn more about your WIP and other works? http://www.tyffanyhackett.com or over on Instagram @tyffany.h

My ten questions! 1. Your characters all have to die. You can save one. ONE. Who? 2. Fancast your protagonist! Who, and why? 3. Do you build scent profiles for your characters? Share?? :3 4. Are you published? Do you want to be? 5. If you had to have one of your characters as a roommate, which one? 6. What’s your ideal writing tool? (laptop, pen and notebook, etc) 7. Go-to writing drink? 8. Do you participate in NaNo events? 9. Do you burn candles? Use essential oils? 10. What are your top two social media links?? I tag anyone who wants to participate!!! But also... @jesikahsundin @justicereads @giulswrites @hannar-ren @ntsexton619

[ofieugogyshz]

30 utapri questions!

@dekiaibadchoices​ tagged me forever ago and i only noticed a week ago that there was a blank version linked in gmdsjdksjds

30 utapri questions! Tag yo friends

1. Your best boy? this one!

2. Your least favorite boy? i don’t dislike any of them?? oh wait I guess heavens counts nowadays huh. Eiichi. Not sorry. Miss me with him. I’ll take Nagi over him and I don’t even like Nagi either but at least he realizes his mistake sooner and tries to fix it instead of having to get shoved at and told that he’s a manipulative prick.

3. A character that you never thought you would love as much as you do now? hmmm... all of the 11? Maybe Reiji, but that’s like mostly attributed to @dekiaibadchoices​! I love seeing how happy he makes her. :D 

4. A character you can relate to in any way? goSH. I’m actually.. .not sure... I mean I do relate to otoya and how much he loves fun and brightening up people’s days, but i’m not nearly as... good at it? as on top of it?

5. A character that you think deserves more love? Is Natsuki or Syo popular by themselves or only in a pair? Because, individually, they both do. And Yamato and Van are a lot better in mlk, but i don’t know if there’s any material between s4 and mlk, because i would LOVE to see yamato’s character arc/progression from his “tch” to “AND YOU’RE AWESOME, AND YOU! AND YOU!” like he’s frickin’ oprah

6. A character you would want as your partner/lover? ehhhhhh none of them really? like maybe a few it’d be interesting but mostly i’m just like, nah. they’re fine on their own/with others.

7. A character you would want as your mentor/senpai? oh!! um. .... I don’t know. D: Maybe Natsuki? I feel like he would be very good about being nurturing and helping build confidence in people who feel unconfident or don’t like themselves...

8. Your favorite ship? haruka x tomo? none tbh it’s just my “if i had to pick a ship”

9. A character that you want to cosplay/have already cosplayed? my son!!!! and maybe if we ever saw more of tomochika, her. and a friend wants to cosplay syo and she’s small enough that i could easily be natsuki tol to her smol at only 5′6. xD

10. Favorite side character? TOMOCHIKA AND RINGO

okay the next few are about songs and i haven’t looked up the lyrics for most of these so i’m mostly going based off what i know/recall of them from the mobile game...

11. Your favorite solo song?

shit. I don’t know. I like a lot of them. There’s a lot of Tokiya’s and Natsuki’s, and then there’s Brand New Melody and some other one of Otoya’s... 

12. Your favorite duet song? QUITE A FEW BUT OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD, BABY!! MY STRAWBERRY!! AND HYPERXSUPERXLOVER!!

13. Your favorite trio song?

I DON’T KNOW i had to boot up the game and the first one I found was Dream More Than Love

14. Your favorite group song?

god all of the movie songs were good but i think QN killed it with The World Is Mine because GOD THAT WAS SO AMAZING IN THE MOVIE, but then again, Fantasic Prelude brought in all the tears. Every time that slow build.... and I’m not a crier and laughed at all the other girls in the audience that did. BUT NOW I’M THE ONE THAT’S CRYING AND GETTING EMOTIONAL.

15. Your least favorite song? ugh... the first heaven’s song? esp when they were three but even after 7 it just. sounds bland. but i’m supposed to believe that it’s THIS EPIC THRILLING HIT??? like kids sit down and listen to QN’s two songs from the movies then come back and tell me what a thrilling epic song in your repertoire looks like.

i just don’t really like most of heavens and i’m also really mad that their two songs in the movie were so damnably catchy. fuck them.

16. Your favorite singer?

NATSUKI. his [satsuki?] songs are so. heavy. oh my god. tokiya is a close second though because wow beautiful voice.

17. Your favorite group/trio/duo?

fuck if i know i just go ha ha song make me go brrr

18. Your favorite member of Starish?

otoya!!! love my son!!!

19. Your favorite member of Quartet Night?

*flips coin*

heads. looks like it’s reiji today. tails is ranmaru.

20. Your favorite member of Heavens?

uhhhh van. him and eiji are the only ones that didn’t make me go ugh at upon their episode/interactions at any point in time, and eiji is sure, pure bean too good for this world in a way different than otoya but he’s just not the kind that appeals to me meanwhile van is a fun flirt---HEY GOME I FOUND YOU AN IDOL VERSION OF YOUR CURRENT FLAME. ha ha jk gome would never read this-- but also really sweet and fun. and then yamato i didn’t like at all but his movie? personality? upgrade?? Really fun. Love it. Would have loved him more from the start if they showed this evolution in the season.

21. Your favorite seiyuu/voice actor?

I don’t really follow them tbh and I’ve only seen Otoya’s, Tokiya’s and Syo’s content, and it’s a tie between mamoru and shimono

22. Favorite Drama CD? haven’t listened to any

23. Your favorite shining live card? UM CRAP this one

LOOK AT HOW CUTE MY SON IS??? LOOK AT THAT SMILE!! THAT ADORABLE FACE!!! I LOVE HIM

24. Your favorite song beatmap? buhhh i don’t even play anymore outside of auto tbh so i can’t recall off the top of my head

25. Your least favorite song beatmap? ha ha ha ha anything on 13* and above

26. Black Deja Vu or White Gravity? i forget what each one sounded like but i think black had more of the boys i liked in it

27. Utapri merch that you own/want? I can’t recall if there’s another line of starish alters that aren’t ml1000, but if there ARE...... otherwise I think that i’ve gotten most of what I want? I mean I wouldn’t mind the rest of otoya’s plushes but i’m also not gonna.... repeatedly check ebay for ‘em.  maybe for the full size bag of the little one that I got?? 

28. How did you get into Utapri? klab advertized shining live in llsif as a text notice or something? or maybe just on the en twitter??? anyways my friends and I looked, I was the only one who could get it to play on their phone, and i KNEW otoya would instantly become my fave bc he sounded so much like my best girl rin, and WOW. GUESS WHAT. I WAS RIGHT!!!! who knew.

29. A set theme in shining live that you want to see in the future? fuck i forgot it but there WAS a set that’s in llsif that’s not in sl that i was like “this would be so great to see one for the utapri boys”

30. Why do you love your best boy?

*cracks knuckles* OKAY EVERYONE GET READY I CAN ACTUALLY WORDS WHEN IT COMES TO MY KIDS OKAY

so. first off, rin is my best llsif girl and they run a LOT of similarities in character profile alone. they’re both happy people who have a lot of energy and smile a lot and are always beaming happiness and I just REALLY love the sunshine kid trope okay?

now, for otoya specifically, i LOVE that it’s totally canon that his smile is like sunlight on a cloudy day, that he’s just this. super sweet and earnest, endearing kid who will help people when he can, however he can, if they ask or don’t that doesn’t really matter, so long as he is allowed to help then he’s gonna do his best at helping!!! He works REALLY HARD!! he cares people. a lot. so much. big heart!!!! biggest heart in all of starish if i do say so myself. maybe in all of utapri boys. he’s just so. caring!!! and good!! I DARE you to find and tell me something bad about my son. I DARE YOU. it’ll be a waste of time because you WON’T find anything. 

and oh my gosh his reactions in the anime are a GOLDMINE, TREASURE TROVE of reaction images. i can have a whole ass platter of every emotion under the son and i hate that sometimes thanks eiichi. he’s just. so funny sometimes and it’s adorable and precious and he’s just so pure and good and sweet and kind and caring...!

he also!! back to the working hard thing!! He works hard bc he came from humble roots. I don’t know much about the VNs so all of my knowledge is from the anime and shining live, but like, orphan?? who works hard to learn how to write songs and play the guitar? and then still comes back to the orphanage he grew up at to volunteer and help there after he debuts??? like. i love this boy. he is so sweet and willing to give back and HE IS SO PRECIOUS?????? im. good kid. 

and!!! i hate bringing up this shithole writing of an episode. it can use SO MANY IMPROVEMENTS but so can all of s4 in geneneral hahahahahah BUT ANYWAYS!

he re-experiences trauma that he had amnesia of? no thanks to some certain megane asshole. and, through poorly structured writing, he learns to move on from his pain and learns how to smile again? Like. baby. sweetie. precious son. you did not deserve that, it was a horrible Break the Cutie moment that did NOT need to happen like that, and you deserved better resolution than what you got. 

but the point of it is! he learns how to smile again through his pain. that doesn’t quite make it sound right in the way that is inspiring, but like. he... has his own battle with depression and grief and pain and loss of innocence/childhood, and he still manages to retain a childish manner and happiness and spark, and smiles through that, and he smiles because he wants others to be happy and not suffer the same pain.

[moonbelt]

»of the super and the fantastic

↳ superhero au | somewhat enemies-to-lovers au

⇢ pairing: oh sehun | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + light angst + sexual themes [ + very lowkey fuckboy!sehun but also superhero!sehun.. idk i was feeling it ]

⇢ word count: 12.111

⇢ description: you applied to the prestigious Mount Academy of Supers on a whim and surprisingly you get accepted. however, there’s only one teeny — slight — problem. you’re an ex-supervillain.

author’s note: re-watched The Incredibles and suddenly was inspired to write something super! hope you enjoy it!!

You'd heard about Wind Boy long before you ever met him.

Although it wasn't that hard to know of him—Wind Boy was the son of the resident superhero that guarded the metropolis—Silver Ivy; a woman that was hailed as your city's very own A-grade superhero, she even has a plaque with her name on it gracing the wall of City Hall. Wind Boy wasn't some crime-busting supernova but he was somewhat heavily involved in cracking a few cases. Not that you stalked him or anything, it's just better for you to know your enemies.

It also didn't help that you were a villain-in-training that also happened to live in this said metropolis. To be fair, you weren't some high-class villain with a profiled wanted record and public scorn. In fact, now you were pretty much a petty thief. You know, the kind of person that just did the things they wanted to—sadly, those things tended to fall on the more dangerous sides of the law.

Ever since you could remember, you had the ability to run fast. Faster than you could handle. And ever since you could remember, your father had exploited that trait to benefit him and his greed. You found out years later that you could use your speed to move in time and that you weren't actually stopping time, you were simply accelerating so fast that time appeared to completely stop. Before you had a choice in the matter, your father was dragging you along on missions.

Breaking into banks mostly, that was how your dad had attained so much wealth. He froze everything in the path and you ran. At least that had been the plan until three months ago. It's not like you missed the life of crime, because you don't, you do however miss having something to do.

Contrary to what your father had told you, the law does, in fact, catch up to the bad guys. Three months ago, to be exact, was when the law finally caught up with him. You had expected him to drag you and your mother down with him but, you guess, as the one and only act of selflessness, he allowed the two of you to leave without being incriminated. So now, that leaves you with a superpower-less mother and an almost zero to both of your names.

You sigh to yourself, you can go back in time but no matter how many times you do; the outcome stays the same. Your dad gets cuffed, the government takes down his "Wanted" advertisements from the big screens in the Capital and Silver Ivy is hailed once more as the Queen protecting the city. Again, you don't hate Silver Ivy. You don't hate any superhero. Sometimes the world just has bad guys and good guys. That's just how it is.

Anyways, the point of the matter is, you knew Wind Boy existed and unfortunately, he knew about you too.

You'd just come out of a bank, Central City Bank – to be precise, and you were hoping that he wouldn't bust you out this time. Not that it mattered. He couldn't stop you. In fact, he couldn't really do anything, considering he wouldn't be able to even catch you. You laughed to yourself as you bent down and re-tied your shoelaces. You knew the CCTV didn't have you on footage because no matter how slow you ran, they were never quite able to catch you. Regardless, once you'd taken the money you wanted, you didn't stop running until you were a few towns over.

Your plans though, as usual, are interrupted just as you'd expected but prayed against.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he says now with an emphasis on stop. His eyes hidden behind a light blue mask and his lips twisted up into an uncanny smile. Well, more smirk than a smile but who really cares about the little details in a situation like this.

You roll your eyes harder than you intend to. "I'm not even doing anything and it's not like you can actually stop me, Wind Boy," you scrunch your nose at his name.

It was so... what's the word? Lame. Like who wakes up and thinks Wind Boy would be a good Hero name? It sucks and you wonder how he can even be so proud of it in the first place.

"You think you can run from everything?" He scoffs at your implication. "Yeah, you're right. You're fast, like really fast. But you know, there's no place you can go that I can't find you."

You glare at him, releasing your tied shoelaces and standing up to your full height. "I have no idea why you're so obsessed with me. I'm pretty sure there are worse things happening around Central City you could be bothered with."

"It's not my fault the wind feels things. Every time you run, I feel it. And besides, you need someone watching over you. You're, like, the worst villain in the history of villainy."

You highly doubt that. You didn't even steal anything this time—okay see, you borrowed the money and you'll give it back later when you do have enough money to pay for everything. It was a give and take. More taking than giving, but the point still stands.

Shrugging your shoulders, you try not to let his words get to you. "You have no proof, do you?"

He points at the red helmet next to your boot-clad foot, then he drags his fingers over the shades resting on your nose and as if that's all the proof he needs, he clears his throat. "Well, you're not exactly dressed up for a date or a walk in the park..."

"Like you're any better," you train your eyes over his super costume; a skintight clothing that really leaves nothing up to imagination, you could see almost everything that didn't really need to be seen, it came in simple shades of blue and with no cape. "Also, don't you have somewhere better to be? Like I know I'm a supervillain, well was, but I'm not robbing a bank here."

"Yeah, you did. And now you're doing something worse."

Okay so maybe you weren't completely honest—you weren't born with your powers. Your father, before he had slipped into his lavish lifestyle of theft, was a scientist. You never asked him growing up why he felt the need to have a kid with abilities, or how he knew you wouldn't have any, to begin with. All you do know is, it had taken years of researching and failing for him to finally come up with you.

The Scientific Society of Super Research exiled him because of his unlawful practice and experimentation, and from what you have gathered they have no idea you survived whatever it is your father had done. He went missing on the records and just like that — you became a villain's child.

"It's my ability, Windy," you snort. "No one screams at you when you go high flying in the skies. So, why are you hounding down my neck?"

"You can't just go through time." He ignores your question. "Back and forth, you disrupt a lot of things."

Turning his statement around in your head, you retort. "You can't just fly above people. Back and forth, it becomes a nuisance."

Wind Boy uses two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose like he can't quite believe you and him are having this conversation. His black hair blows in scattered directions as a breeze passes by and you reach down and grab the helmet, making quick work with strapping it on.

"Those are two different things and you know it." He may be right but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

You push your shades higher up your nose. "Hold your horses okay. I'm not going back in time or forward in time. I'm going through time. It's the only way I get to understand my ability."

"There are schools for that..." He doesn't say your name, frankly because he doesn't know it.

You've known about each other for three months but you know it's not a smart move to let him know too much about you. Even though you've been reduced to a life of petty crime, he's still classified as an enemy. After all, you don't know anything about him other than when he's in super form.

"Thanks for the suggestion, I'll think about it," you cross your arms over your chest but after a moment add dejectedly. "I promise to not disrupt anything. I'm only going to see things."

You're not sure why you feel the need to explain your actions to him. Maybe it's because you're afraid he'll go and tell his dearest mother that a damned speedster is breaking the law. You figure he has yet to report you since the day he found you. You wonder why, but don't question it. Sometimes there are some things better left unasked.

In this day and age, you're not allowed to do anything with your powers if you're not registered or in an Academic program sponsored by the government. So either you become a superhero, ergo Wind Boy, a super-villain, see your father, or a making-ends-meet thief, like yourself.

"Anyways, see you around Windy," you offer him a smile as you position yourself in your running stance, crouched down and low. "As always, it's been nice talking to you."

"You're seriously going to continue? I could arrest you, you know?" His face is incredulous, his hands resting on his hips.

You snicker as you examine his stance. "You're gonna have to catch me first, you know. You always find me after I've already done something. You probably should try to catch me doing whatever big, bad thing while I'm doing it."

"You're breaking so many laws right now."

"Won't be the first time."

You clear your throat, thinking the conversation is done. He never arrested you before, you doubt he'll do it now. "If that's all, I'll be—"

Wind Boy cuts your sentence off. "Apply to the Academy."

"What?" Your eyes pop out and you whip your attention from the ground to his face once more. "Why?"

He runs a hand through his hair, breathing deeply. "You'd be able to use your abilities within the law. I wouldn't have to keep hounding you down your neck—it'll be a win-win situation."

"Not really. I'm having a lot of fun right now."

You'd thought about joining one of the already few Academy's for supers loitered around the state. Your record was pretty clean, considering your father took the blame for everything, so it wouldn't really be a problem. But then again you can't really see yourself doing anything remotely heroic. You couldn't force yourself to be something you're not.

"Think about it."

You raise from your crouched position. "Why? Why is this important?"

Wind Boy doesn't break eye contact even though you're staring at him a bit condescendingly. Maybe it's because he's not afraid of you? "Like I said, you've disrupted things. There's talk."

You don't show it, but your heart drops lower than you expect. Of course, you know that your actions have consequences and that every little differentiation you create in different timelines can add up to a bigger problem. But then again, this is your power. You couldn't just sit around and not use it, every time you tried not to, you just ended up with raging headaches and going through nervous spasms throughout the day.

"So, is this you being a hero? To me? A villain?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Take it as you want. Just because I won't arrest you doesn't mean others won't."

"You're not being very heroic, Windy."

"And you suck at being a villain, so I'm helping you out. Think of it as my goodwill," he thinks to himself for a moment before he continues. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

Biting your lip as you think about what he's said, you can't help but think that he and his mother are so different. His mother, you believe, would never aide a civilian that just happens to be a part-time villain. Nah, she'll probably crucify you as a warning to other part-timers. Maybe get another plaque with her name in gold lining the City Hall.

You let out a deep breath, clearing your head from thoughts of his mother. "Okay. I'll keep it in mind."

You don't wait for him to reply. Instead, you kick yourself off and leave him in the past, present. For someone with such control over time, you don't really have a sense of it. Most times everything blurs together, the present so easily becomes the past. But as you run through the maze of options, you begin to think that maybe this Academy could be the something you've been searching to do to fill up your days.

Yeah sure, stealing money has its perks but Wind Boy is right. One of these days someone that's not him is going to catch up to you and you're not sure what you're gonna do if that happens.

Being hero? You can't see yourself doing it. It wasn't like your father pushed you down the path of the noble and brave. Your dad who won't exactly be proud if you make this decision, not that he has a say in the things you do anymore. Your mother... might not like the idea but she won't stop you either. After all, she'd wanted to be a hero long before genetics showed her that there was no space for mundane humans in a world now ruled by supers.

In hindsight, you should have realized that the organization of Supers wouldn't have turned down your application.

One; your ability was something they didn't want just anyone to have. You were positive they would rather have you closer to them to observe than not. Two; you weren't exactly registered as a supervillain. Your last name was your mothers, so they had no idea of knowing you were related to your father. Three; you fit all the ridiculous criteria they required before you could be reviewed for acceptance.

For some reason, it seemed like the universe was bent on you attending this Mount Academy of Supers. When you'd told your mother that you were thinking about applying, she quite literally blew her top off. You hadn't seen her as energetic as that night since when your dad was around. She set off to work with trying to contact her side of the family for help with the matter. You had always known that your mother came from a well-endowed family of superheroes and you'd always known that your mother's tale had been tragic from the start.

Born into a superfamily without an inkling of super in her, she was isolated and cast out from activities since she could remember. Heroes like to think they're different from the disastrous villains but quite honestly, they aren't. The strong prevail and the weak are left to fend on their own. In any case, the sealing of your mother's fate as an outcast was when she married your father, a scientist that had gained his superpowers by accident and by the following events; your father spiraling down into the life of villainy. Her family disowned her and minus the emotional turmoil, your family moved states away.

Anyways, your mother used this attempt of you becoming a hero to extend an olive branch to her side of the family. She must've spun an elaborate lie to them because from what you know, your grandparents didn't even know you existed. But now here you are, at a superhero Academy with the sponsorship of one of the top super family's in the nation. Crazy? Yes. But you're not complaining.

You're not sure what exactly you were expecting since you'd never been to a Super Academy before, but the campus is more normal than you thought it would be. Other than you being referred to as "newbie," by the student population, which you weren't in terms of skill level, there was nothing completely extraordinary happening at Mount Academy for Supers.

Sighing to yourself, you lower your head on your desk. Right now is supposed to be "self-study" but nobody, by the looks of it, was doing any studying. Ah, you're starting to regret this heroic path thing. How boring could this day get? Although maybe not as noble, you'd rather be outside doing something—anything. Like—

"Y/N, was it?" Your head whips up so fast you feel a kink in your neck because of it.

The voice to interrupt your internal monologue is that of the Vice-class president. About seven feet tall if you're measuring by over-all effect and about four feet tall if you're only talking about the physical. She looks like she can barely pass for a middle school student let alone a superhero-in-training.

You raise an eyebrow at her, not entirely sure what to say in response. You've been here for only four days and from what you've observed, the people in this Hero Academy like to mind their own business. Not like you wanted to be friends with any of them. Nope. You didn't. Not at all, it was totally fine, you were totally fine. H—

"I'm Kiki, the vice-class president. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier; it's been a busy week." She offers you a half-smile before she reaches into her skirt pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. "Anyway, today we have sparring practice and I take it you don't have a partner?"

Well, you haven't really talked with anyone other than the Principal and a few subject teachers so it's safe to say you had no idea there even was a sparring practice. "No, not yet. I need one?"

She nods. "Unfortunately almost everyone already has an assigned partner. So you don't really have any options."

"There's no one?"

You can't say your academic experience is starting with a great bang! In fact, you wonder if you might have the most pathetic hero debut in history.

Kiki shakes her head slowly at that. "There is someone. He hasn't had a partner in maybe two or three years? He'd be thrilled to get you."

Why hasn't he had a partner in so long? Did he suck that bad? You snicker to yourself. Or wait... maybe he was incredibly good? Whatever the case, you didn't bother to pester Kiki with it. Not because you weren't curious, more because you finally had something to do and didn't want to ruin it. All your questions would be answered later anyway when you spar and conquer whoever this new partner of yours is.

"So, who is he?"

"Oh Sehun."

"And who is that?"

She laughs to herself as she scans over the frown on your lips. "He's the class president. Sits right next to you actually."

You shake your head. "No. No one sits next to me. Well, no one has sat there in the last four days."

"Yeah, he's both lazy as he is busy," she says as she hands you the slip of paper. "Your best bet for finding him is in the outdoor training arena."

"The school day hasn't ended though," you cock your head to the side. "And I thought only two stars and above were allowed to do that."

Kiki doesn't say anything in response, probably because you just answered your own question. Whoever this Sehun guy was, he wasn't bad. You couldn't be regarded on a three-star level in the Academy by being weak. The ranking goes from F to D to C, B, A and then bronze star class, silver and finally gold; three stars. From the mini-orientation you had — which you'd been forced into when you'd arrived, you know three stars are the closest the Academy has to fully-fledged certified superheroes. Some even have their super name and already have a public following.

Your nerves start to thrum faster, you finally have something to do. You can't help the grin that makes it on to your face. Now this, this was something interesting.

Currently, you're a level D. Nothing spectacular there. Apparently, it doesn't matter if you've already gotten experience outside school grounds. If you're going to start in hero school, you have to start at the beginning and legally.

You push yourself off your chair and grab the paper that you realize now to be an Excuse Slip. "Thank you," you say, adjusting your uniform and slipping around the desk. "Can I ask you something?"

She shrugs. "What?"

"Your power, what is it?" Now that you're standing, you realize that she is smaller than you thought — you dwarf her.

"Gigantification."

Ah, you think, that explains why she's so small. Maybe it's a limitation of her ability? You shake your head, it doesn't matter. Right now what matters is finding this Oh Sehun and somehow convincing him to become your partner. Although, you don't think he'd be thrilled that a D student is the one giving him the honors.

You don't realize until you're already in the outdoor training arena that you should have asked Kiki what Sehun's power was. You watch solemnly as a handful of people, scattered evenly in their own private booths, practice with their abilities.

A boy, one of the few you don't recognize, generates fire from his palms and proceeds to thrust his hands into the ground and burning away through the area in front of him. You're not sure what kind of practice he's doing but you won't lie, his power is ridiculously cool and before you can stop yourself, you're running towards him.

You're not nearly as fast as you could be though. Why? The Principal deemed it necessary to have a limiter attached to you at all times. The ugly device makes it look like you're on house arrest. It's attached to your lower leg like a nuisance you cant get rid off. In her words, "until we think you're in full capability to harness your ability, we will need to take precautions."

Bullshit. You had almost full control over your talents, better than most kids in here. But you couldn't really tell her that your experience came from being an ex-villain. You didn't exactly want to spend years in prison. Your father was already doing that and you didn't want his sacrifice to be in vain.

"Hey," you say once you've arrived in front the steel wire gate that's protecting/preventing anyone else from entering his secluded spot. The dude with pyrokinesis doesn't seem to notice you, so you add. "You don't happen to be Sehun, do you?"

He stumbles out of shock and lands on his butt with a loud umph! His face is drawn into one of utter surprise and he sputters a bit before he can finally bring out words.

"Who the fuck are you?" He articulates perfectly as he looks slightly terrified, and you wonder if he's never met a speedster before. A hero-in-training shouldn't be this scared, should they?

You stretch an arm out, through one of the holes in the wire's net. "Y/N. Are you Sehun?"

The boy grunts as he stands up to his feet, running furious hands through his hair. He's wearing the schools standard black and grey P.E uniform and he is pretty tall. Taller than you that's for sure.

"No," he looks you up and down. "I'm Chanyeol. What was that? Teleportation?"

You shake your head. "Nah, temporal speed."

Chanyeol nods to himself as if noting it down in his head. "Cool. Very cool. We should spar sometime, I've never fought someone that fast before."

"What there's no one fast in this school? I thought Hero Academies was all about gathering the best of the best?"

He scoffs at that. "You'd be surprised how rare it is to find a speedster," he walks farther to his left and grabs a watch from one of the sparse benches. "Most of them become villains. You know, it's easy for them to evade the law and all that."

Something weighs down on your chest. Not guilt, but something like recognition. Just because someone was fast didn't mean they were automatically subjected to a life of crime. You could think of a thousand ways speedsters could protect civilians or subdue villains. There's a sort of fire brewing in you. He didn't say it but you feel like he's judging you simply based on your power. Like you're simply bad because you can run. You click your tongue and will yourself to stop thinking about it.

"Anyways, do you know where this Sehun kid is?"

He jabs his index finger to his right. "He was there a few minutes ago—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you're out of his listening distance. God, it feels amazing to finally be running. Even if you're only allowed to use two-thirds of your ability, it's better than not being able to use it at all. This area is more secluded than the other one, with high-rising metal wires surrounding it without any hint of extra space. The ground has been reduced to rubble and you watch, with interest, as the person in the center of it all lifts his arms in front of him and is about to do something—you don't know what— when his eyes connect with yours.

Unlike Chanyeol, he doesn't scream out in shock. Instead, he lowers his arms and places them on his waist, not taking his eyes off of you. You watch him, albeit a little cautiously, as he walks up to you. There is a certain air around him, like liquid confidence. He doesn't stop walking until he's an arms breath away from you. You squint your eyes at him, he looks oddly familiar.

"Is there something wrong?"

You furrow your eyebrows. Not only does he look slightly familiar, you can swear you've heard his voice before too. Well, to be honest, you think you've heard his voice a lot. You don't realize you've been glaring at him until he waves a hand in front of your eyes, forcefully dragging you back to the present.

"Hello? I know I'm strikingly attractive and you'd love to continue staring at my face but sadly—"

"Do you always talk so much crap?" You don't even attempt to stop the words from falling from your lips. "Like is it a condition?"

He rolls his eyes, not offended, but he does take a few steps forward. "Have we met before?"

You take a step back. "I don't know... Say, you're not like from the past or anything, are you?"

"If I am, I don't know it. You're the new transfer student right?"

Your eyes threaten to pop out of its socket. Does everyone know when someone moves in? Or do you have that newbie smell? You're tempted to smell your armpits on impulse. "Does everyone here stalk each other?"

He laughs and it's a very melodic sound and you swear you've heard it before. Why can't you remember?

"Nah. I'm just rich and have connections."

You want to ask him what being rich has to do with knowing you're the new transfer student but some part of you is less-keen to know the answer. But you figure with his "connections" he should be able to point you to where Sehun is, so you open your mouth to ask him. But then he tilts his face to the side, probably trying to take in your appearance fully, and that's when another surge of familiarity flares inside you.

"Hey, do me a favor and cover your eyes for a second."

A look of hesitation crosses his eyes but he masks it quickly with a strained smile like you're crazy. It's that look that causes a light bulb to flash on in your head. You take several steps back and eye him again. Shit. Why did he have to be in the same Academy? What were the odds? This wasn't how you imagined your road to heroism will start. Maybe you could go back in time and — you surprise even yourself with your actions.

"Windy?"

His eyes pop out from his skull, and you find it comical but at the same time you're still reeling from the fact that he's here. In this school. Along with you.

"Fake super-villain!"

"What?"

Windy shrugs, like it doesn't matter that he called you a damn fake. A fake?! Your mind sputters. Irritation flooding your veins, a new level for you. You didn't particularly like your ex-occupation but at the same time, you didn't want to be regarded as a faker! You open your mouth with the sole intention of telling him off, maybe gloat about a few of your successful missions, but Wind Boy beats you to the chase.

"I can't believe you actually got into the superhero academy. I thought you called yourself a super-villain. Isn't this, like, treason?" He looks at you with new-found admiration.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I guess, your name is Sehun?" You ignore his previous antics.

He takes a small bow. "One and only."

"And I guess you're always this annoying. Even when you're not in super form?"

"Only because it works you up so much," Sehun smirks and you wonder if this was his perpetual setting. Always smirking, never fully smiling. "So yes, always I suppose."

You move quicker than he could ever know and jam a finger into his chest. His eyes widen in surprise for a second, if you weren't fast enough you would've missed it. You can also see as his breath catches and falters in his throat.

"I may no longer be a thief or villain or whatever, but I am better than you."

Sehun laughs. No, guffaws in your face. The corners of his eyes crinkling so hard they become crescent moon shaped. "It's not nice to lie to yourself, you know." He leans forward and ghosts his lips against your ear. "Not very heroic."

Your head reels back, ears growing incredibly hot because that — this — wasn't what was supposed to happen! You were supposed to have the upper hand in this situation dammit. You grit your teeth together in mild agitation and a desperate attempt to keep your wits together.

"But I guess you're kinda right," Sehun strikes on. "I do have a reputation for being talkative. Never shutting up for anything, really."

"So that's your tactic or something? Annoy your enemies into submission?"

It's infuriating, really, how much he gets on your nerves. And now you're forced to realize within yourself that you and Sehun are no longer enemies. Crapping shit, you're on the same side now. Not only are you two brothers-in-arms, you're supposed to be his partner? Although a few hours ago you were demanding the universe to give you something more extraordinary to do, you didn't think this was it.

"It's working, isn't it?"

You bite your lower lip and look away from him. Christ, what is it? No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that he annoys every living fiber in your body, you end up getting confused. Sehun— Wind Boy — is aggravating, yes. But the more you stay pressed up against each other, body heat palpable, the more your brain starts to work too fast per minute.

You push yourself away from him in a dire attempt to clear your head. "Whatever. I came to ask you to be my sparring partner, do you accept?"

"Of course..."

"Y/N," you mutter, begrudgingly.

Sehun's eyes dart down to your lips and again you question that feeling brewing in your chest. "Y/N," he tests your name out. "Cute."

You roll your eyes harder than you've ever done before. Cute? Talk about a downgrade. Your name is powerful, daunting, better-than-sex-inspiring. Not 'cute.'

"I think the word you're looking for is badass? Maybe even mysterious?" You try and fail to restrain the fuming in your lungs.

He shakes his head, a grin slipping onto his face. "Nope. Definitely cute."

You click your tongue. You're better than this. You're better than him. "Promise me something then," you say finally, after several beats, tapping your foot on the ground rapidly.

He nods but doesn't say anything, urging you to continue. "When I win tonight, promise me you would never call me cute ever again."

"You're not going to win."

"I will."

Sehun shakes his head and makes a tsk sound. "What, you think I invited you to this Academy to whoop my ass? If we're sparring, I'm going all-out," there's a cocky glint in his eyes.

"And you think I wouldn't do the same?"

He turns his attention to the black restriction on your ankle and smirks. "Good luck with that."

For a second you had forgotten about the stupid limiter of your abilities. You doubt you'd be able to beat him without your full capabilities but damn, you're going to try and wipe that damn look off his face in one shot.

Maybe he senses that you're not going to say anything to his observation, or maybe he just wants to rile you up some more, Sehun says: "Why did you even listen to me? Do you think a petty thief can handle rigorous training?"

"Well," you step closer, gathering courage from your agitation. "Everyone knows you should always know everything about your enemies. And, trust me, before this charade runs out I'm going to learn everything there is to know about you. Your weaknesses, the things that make you tick. When I say everything, I mean it."

"Now, now. You have to at least buy me dinner first. It can be your consolation prize for losing."

"That's..."

He is stupidly infuriating. With his stupid smirk still laced on his lips and the look in his eyes like he's won this battle. A date? Why on earth would he propose that? He might as well ask you to sell your left kidney.

Even though, now that you think about it, you wonder if you'd been raised to be a hero from the start, would you and Sehun be friends? However, you can't act on this imagination. You couldn't get all chummy with Silver Ivy — the hero who put your father in prison's son. Now that would be treason. Not that you really care but it's the principle of the act.

"Why would you want to go on a date with me? Barely a week ago I was your enemy."

Sehun shrugs, lacing his hands behind his head and swaying on his feet. "But now, you're not. Do you believe in love at first sight? I know I did after I saw you for the first time."

You scoff at him, appalled. "Why are you flirting with me? We're meant to hate each other. I mean, no, I hate—"

"Hate's a really strong word. I never hated you. Wondered why you always robbed the same bank on the same exact date every other week like some idiot, but never hate."

You want to kick him directly in the shin and watch the prized boy fall to his knees. You ignore his criticism, it's not like you want to tell him that you promised your mother that you wouldn't continue stealing and if you robbed the banks in the other cities with the more high-class superheroes guarding them, you wouldn't make it out unscathed. You know your boundaries and you stick with them. You figured if you were going to lie to your mother you might as well lie within reason.

"I was wearing those damned shades and a red helmet. There's no way you fell in love with me unless you're a psycho. And shut up, we are not talking about that right now."

"My heart wants what it wants."

"We were fighting — you flung me into a fucking postbox," you let out a frustrated huff. Sehun was right, he really never shuts up. "And why are you telling me this now?"

A small grin takes haven on his face. "I mean, I was gonna ask you out on a date earlier but every time I saw you, it was after you'd just broken the law."

You cross an arm around your stomach, a little bit confused by these turn of events. "Are you still flirting with me?"

"..."

"Do you not plan on stopping anytime soon? I came here to ask you to be my sparring partner and declare that I will royally whoop your ass. Why are you flirting?"

"I can't really explain it, okay?" He says with not a hint of remorse in his tone. "You were staring at me like that and I thought—"

"Like what?" You sputter. You did not — have never looked at him anyhow. He was the one that decided to make his super-suit super frigging tight that you could see every ridge, every curve, every—

Sehun gawks at you incredulously. "The way you're staring at me right now! All intense and shit like you want me to keep pushing your buttons."

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering where all your bravado has gone and willing yourself to not let it show that he's getting to you. "I do not stare," you bark out.

"Yeah, you're right. Usually, you glare really hard."

You groan, your mind working a thousand times a second to find anything to retort to that. "Know thy enemy and all that Jazz," you try, glaringly so, to sound calm, cool and collected — everything that you are currently not.

The right side of Sehun's lips tilts up. "Sure, Y/N. If you say so."

You decide you've had enough of this conversation. Well, it's not really a conversation. It's more of Sehun trying his damn hardest to make you admit that you feel something between the two of you when you're sure there is nothing. Even if you're attempting this whole "be a hero!" thing out, you don't want to spend more time than necessary with Sehun. You could barely stand him when half of his face was behind a mask, how are you supposed to tolerate him now?

"All I have to say is; you're not going to win and that's that," you say turning on your heel and walking away furiously.

You desperately want to run but if you run away now, it would only fuel his point that the two of you have some connection or whateverthefuck and there's no way in hell you're going to allow that.

But despite your best intents, you hear his laughter as he claps his hands maniacally behind you and it shakes every sense of resolve bubbling inside you.

"Wouldn't count on that!"

Sehun follows you everywhere.

No matter where you try to hide, he finds you. No matter how many times you tell him to leave you alone and let you focus on school, or whatever you're trying to do, he ignores your pleas and remains consistently by your side. It's been three weeks since you enrolled in the school and by damn, you never pegged Windy as the clingy type but now you're forced to reconsider.

You knew you would beat his ass eventually but it's funny, really, how much fun you've been having defeating him in his own game. And you admit, he truly is skilled. Very much so. If your current record is anything to go by.

Y/N: 8, Sehun: 5.

But it's one thing to fight people that have every idea what your weaknesses are. You know enough about him to give him a run for his position in the higher ranks of students. And yes, he gives you a hard time during sparring practice because he just never shuts up. It's like a lid that can never slap tight enough.

By your calculations, he should be too busy to find you now. He hangs out religiously with the same set of eight people every day around this time. You don't question it, anything to get him far away from you. Every time he stays close to you, you feel this weird thing in your chest. It comes and goes so quickly, you always think you imagine it, but then his stupid face shows up again and the feeling returns. It's weird and you'd rather not delve deeper into it.

You tap your foot mindlessly as you wait for Kiki to grab her stuff from her locker. She's surprisingly slow in finding her notebooks. Over the last two weeks you find yourself growing closer to the shorter girl, she's nice and funny and catches onto your sense of humor faster than not. It also doesn't help that you're in dire need of a friend after going so long without. You don't tell her that though, you'd rather not sell yourself short.

"Stop doing that," she says as she reaches into her locker and moves stuff around, looking for whatever it is she's been searching for.

You freeze up. "What?"

She uses the tip of her shoe to kick your foot. "That. You tap your foot like crazy, its distracting."

"Sorry," you say, biting the inside of your cheeks. These days you seem more on the edge, always looking over your shoulders in anticipation, wondering when Sehun is going to seek you out.

Kiki finally finds whatever she's looking for and slams her locker shut. "Are you still trying to avoid Sehun?"

Nodding your head, you allow her to lead the way to the next class. Which is regular English? Not English for supers, or whatever dumb thing you had thought Super Academy would teach. Honestly, there truly is nothing spectacular about the educational system at this academy.

The only good thing is that you've moved up a skill level. C doesn't look good on you, but you're somewhat proud. Apparently, you're one of the few to raise their bracket that fast, and you won't lie, it fuels your growing ego.

Kiki drags your thoughts back to her. "Why don't you just go on a date with him and call it a day? I mean, he's not that bad."

"He barely comes to school, he thinks he's some hot shit, bet he cries when—"

"He doesn't make classes often because he's his mother's sidekick, you know this," she pats your shoulder in mock consolation. "Plus, he makes all your sparring times. If you ask me, that's not as bad as you think."

You click your tongue, not saying anything in retaliation. Kiki is right but it's not like you want to agree with her logic. She laughs at your blatant sulkiness and artistically changes the subject to something you're more interested in; GreyHound, the newest villain in the public interest, has arrived at Central City.

Last night apparently, he left a string of murders in his wake. It's scary if you think about it from any perspective. You're a thief, not a murderer. Even your father, the supervillain you admire for his tact if nothing else, wasn't a cold killer. He stole, he gave people almost-death injuries but never killed anyone, at least not to your knowledge. But if the polls online are anything to go by, Silver Ivy is the one the public is hoping will get him apprehended. And from your perspective, Silver Ivy is the only one you think can get the job done.

You slide into your seat and make quick work of pulling your stuff from your backpack when someone bounds into the seat next to you. You don't even have to look up from your table to know it's him. He's the only idiot that sits next to you.

"Miss me?"

If there is anything you admire about Sehun, it's his tenacity. Truly one of the best to master the act, if you say so yourself. But you can't help the unfiltered groan that leaves your lips upon his question.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?"

"I mean, I don't know... maybe?" He has this feign-innocence down to the T and it's ruining your perceptions of him drastically.

You turn your attention over to him and cast him an incredulous look while he flashes you a canine-toothy grin. "You see this look of disappointment on my face? It's all for you."

He grabs his chest in a faux heart attack. "Why do you have to look at me like that? It's making me weak, please stop."

"Shut up," you breathe out, willing yourself not to laugh at his antics and instead pay attention to the teacher going off about something you don't know but should.

Now, it's safe to say, you don't know what this relationship you and Sehun have is. If he acted this way with everyone else, maybe you would've just chucked it up to him being a massive flirt or playboy but that, alas, is not the case.

He doesn't even look the way of most people or even give them the time of day. You can't count how many times people have stopped by his desk to make conversation with him and he just... dissociates. It's oddly interesting to watch him try to become one with air.

In fact, when he's not bugging you out, he's only ever really talking to those eight people you'd mentioned earlier. And because of this, you don't know where your relationship stands. Yeah, maybe you don't dislike him as much as before, he — never-closing his mouth — wore you down, but it's not like you're friends either.

You peer to your side and look at the boy in question. At least he hasn't asked to cash in on that dinner request. As he'd expected, you were not ready to fight with half your power being restricted and it resulted in your very first loss. He had laughed in your face and said you wouldn't be able to catch up to him now. It took a few more defeats for you to finally get on a winning streak against him. As you moved up to Level C, your limited ability was also reduced. It was nice wiping the look off his face, you can't forget it.

Tapping your pen on your lip, you debate if you should ask him the question that has been bothering you for the last week or so. Every time you try to talk to him, Sehun flips it around into some kind of flirt extravaganza.

Screw it. You tear a piece of paper from the edge of your notebook and proceed to write the question down.

« What does it mean to be a hero? »

It's a weird question, you know this, but it's something that's been plaguing you with no end in sight. As clandestine as you can, you slip the folded piece unto Sehun's desk, waiting for him to open it and answer you. It takes a few more moments before the paper makes a return to your desk.

« is this a trick question? lol »

« no. I'm serious. you're the son of the City's top hero. If anyone knows what being hero is, it should be you »

This time when you send the paper back to him you can hear the low whistle sound that leaves his lips when he reads your response.

« A hero? I really don't think heroes or the way society sees them, exist. This isn't a good v. evil thing. nothing is ever truly good and there's no definite bar for evil either. The things we see as heroic might be villainous to someone else. »

« is that why you have no qualms with fraternizing with an ex-villain? »

« nah. you're cute and I'm a lot of things but not blind »

The paper finds it's quick end crumpled in the dustbin soon after that. You make it a point to not look Sehun in the eye and you hope he gets the memo. Christ, you've never met someone so... you can't think of the word right now but you've never met someone so him, unapologetically, for better or worse. And you guess, it could be seen as refreshing but you're still bent on not allotting Windy any good points.

Faster than you've ever been, you leave class as soon as the time is up. You try not to think about the weird conversations that people are most definitely having about you, if not before obviously now that you ran out lightning quick. You don't like thinking about this thrumming feeling in your chest, more often than not it leaves you confused and disoriented. You cant even place a name on it, and most times you think to yourself that maybe you're having a self-induced heart attack. Crazy right? The amount of bullshit you'll spit if given the time to dwell on things.

You make a big show of trudging straight back to the dorms, not because you want to, but because you know Sehun is behind you and you want him to know that this — whatever this is between the both of you doesn't scare you at all. It's leaving you dazed and confused, yes, but never scared. You'll never be scared of Sehun. At least not in this life and certainly not in the next.

— Who or What is GreyHound? The new super-villain that has even the best of the best on their toes. —

That's the title of the news article that you're rereading for the umpteenth time in such a short amount of time. It's not like your obsessed with him, it's more along the lines that you're intrigued. You've never heard of such a villain that is so preoccupied with letting everyone know who he is. Almost every day there's a new headline with his name front and center. It's been a week or so since he arrived at Central City and he is singlehandedly monopolizing the news.

GreyHound, as it turns out, has become the main Antagonist prowling through the City and through the grapevine — school gossip — you know that Silver Ivy has been hacking down on trying to find him. With not enough luck. For a villain, he's pretty genius. With his tactics, you don't want to think about him as much as you do because there's this feeling in the pit of your stomach that he's more than bad news.

And the fact that it's not civilians that he's hunting after, that's what really makes you shake a little in your sneakers. He goes for the "heroes." You don't know what superheroes have ever done to him but it must have been something you can't comprehend for him to go on this tirade of killing them off.

There's a list of heroes that have been attacked by GreyHound in the last few days and it's disconcerting to say that it's a lot. And for the first time, you hope Silver Ivy can get to him quicker. You think, if you had the resources that she has, you wouldn't waste so much time dawdling. She's the symbol of hope for the people — and for you, if you're being completely honest with yourself — and you don't like this sense of panic haunting your skin.

You flip on your back, eyeing the ceiling. All day, you've had this sinking feeling in your chest like something is just waiting to happen. Sehun has been too busy helping his mothers affairs that he hasn't been in school enough to be a pain in your butt. And dare you to think, you sort of miss his never-ending foolish behavior. Life at Super Academy is kind of boring when he's not around, even though you would never tell him that. And yes, Kiki is amazing and is as close as a friend that you've ever heard but it's a different balance with Sehun.

It's not something you try to focus on. Defining your relationship with Sehun is weird. But now that you are thinking about him, you wonder if he's safe. GreyHound is hunting superheroes and Wind Boy is one of that category. Yeah, you know he's a pretty kickass super — you'll never say this to his face though — but GreyHound is worse than anyone you doubt Sehun has faced in his entire career.

And that's when the blog article pings with a new notification of it being updated. You scroll down to the list of heroes that are now out-of-service. And there's one name that you really didn't think you would feel this emotional about it being there.

— Yesterday, superhero Wind Boy fell prey to the prowling GreyHound. According to sources, they engaged in combat but our hero left with grave wounds. If the number one hero's son can't leave unscathed, how is anyone else? Are we supposed to keep living in fear of this... —

Wind Boy.

It's not fear that grips your chest tight. In fact, you're not sure what it is that clings to your airways and prevents you from inhaling and consequently makes you nauseous. You're biting your lip in unadulterated worry as you pull yourself off your bed. Your mind isn't quite catching up to the facts. Sehun is a superhero, not a hero-in-training like you. He's supposed to be cut above you, but this is like a rain of ice water on your skin.

You're not sure what you're supposed to do now. You have no idea where he is. He could be in any hospital in the city, there's too many for you to check. You could wait till when he comes back to school but frankly, you need to find him. He's obnoxious and loud and doesn't know when to quit, but he's... you... you don't even know but you do know that your body wouldn't be able to rest until you know where he is.

The dorm halls are empty which is to be expected since it's almost twelve-thirty a.m and there's this unspoken curfew rule going on here. You can't be bothered with semantics right now. For someone born to be so fast, it takes you awhile to reach the door you set out for.

You knock on the door and hope he'll come out and answer. You know he doesn't particularly favor you, if not from the disgruntled looks he sends your way, you know from the first interaction you had with him.

"Hello," he pulls the door open, hair pointed ways outward. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

"You're friends with Sehun right," it's not really a question because you know he is. He's one of his eight-man clique as cliché as that sounds. "Where is he?"

Chanyeol regards you with a grain of salt if his eyes are telling the truth. He runs a hand across his face. You're not sorry for waking him up, so you don't make any chance to apologize.

"What do you mean where is he? He's off doing mama-knows-best business."

"Oh, shut up. I know he's out of duty."

He cocks his eyebrows at that. "You know this how?"

Begrudgingly, you drag your phone out of your pocket and click on the last article you were on and show it to him. "This. Where is he?" This time there's an edge to your voice that was lacking before, your senses are finally waking up and getting with the program.

"Ah, shit," he closes his eyes for a second. "No one was supposed to know about that."

"Well, I do, so can you please tell me where he is before I burst my coronary?"

You've probably set the record for how many 'where is he?' To be said in a five-minute time frame. And in any other situation, you would have laughed at it. But now you're not in the mood. In fact, you're not in the mood to even think about laughing about it. It's pissing you off.

He bites his lip for a second, weighing it in his head for a few moments before he nods his head. "I'll take you there."

There happens to be the Academy's clinic. You've never really had a reason to be in there, so it's an odd feeling that washes over your bones when you walk into the pristine white section of the building. You don't make small talk with Chanyeol and he, thankfully, doesn't try to do it either. It's pretty far from the dorms though and you try and use this time to recollect your thoughts. And level the pros and cons.

Pro:

- He's not dead. 

- He can say he fought a supervillain and lived (very few can relate)

- He's not dead. 

- May have a few broken bones but alas not dead.

Con:

- Has broken a few bones and is in excruciating pain 

- Probably lying on his deathbed. 

- Probably wishes he was —

"You like him right? Sehun, I mean," Chanyeol interrupts your very important internal monologue.

Since it's not really small talk, it's just normal talk, you find it within you to shrug your shoulders. "What does it matter?"

"He likes you."

"I know that."

"You do?" His eyebrows raise comically. "He asked for us to bring you by earlier but I thought he was being a menace to you and that maybe he was just delusional."

You chuckle lightly. Trust Windy to be the one to ask for you. It's a funny thing, being depended on. You're not even being depended on right now but it's nice to know that at least someone wants you around. You were never quite sure how you measured with your dad. There was always something you were doing wrong, something about you always wasn't enough. And maybe there's a small — not really — part of you that's depending on Sehun too.

"How long has he been down?" You ask after several moments because it takes awhile to keep your thoughts from running amok.

"Maybe three days? It's been some time. His mom didn't want the news to report on it but I guess, somethings you can't help."

Yeah, you guess too. There are in fact lots of things that you can't help. Not in the sense that Chanyeol is talking about. Granted, you've never experienced this feeling before so you can't really place a name on it. But it has always been there. Sehun had said, albeit foolishly, that he fell in love at first sight or whateverthefuck he was spewing that day. But you didn't fall.

It's like the music you hear from an orchestra. The kind that slowly builds up, rapidly and then there is this resounding crash and extravagant crescendo that sucks you in. You can't hide it, you might deny it (as you would you know firsthand) but it's always there. Waiting for you to acknowledge the rising notes and growing fluency. It's different instruments adding together to make —

Ah; now you're sounding like some dramatic screenwriter. You shudder. You don't need to put words to this feeling. It's there. And it's as real as you could ever be.

Chanyeol stops at one of the patients' doors and gestures for you to do what you came here to do. You barely hear him tell you that he's leaving now because you're so focused on calming your nerves. Shit, you shouldn't be this nervous about meeting with him. You've met him more than a dozen times in your lifetime. Nothing is different. Expect he's probably in really bad pain. Or maybe not, there's probably a superpower to help with stuff like that.

It takes more moments that you don't want to admit before you knock on the door. "Sehun? It's me."

"And who is me?"

You roll your eyes at his response but slide the door open nonetheless. Your heart skitters at the sight of him. "Me."

Maybe you're just egotistical but you swear you can see a new light glinting in the brown of his eyes. And you're so incredibly content that he doesn't look as bad as you thought he would. Sure there are few cuts littered around his face but he doesn't look outright horrible.

"Miss me?"

"What would you do if I say yes?"

The corner of his lips stretches upwards. "I think I would like that very much actually. It's no fun getting my ass beat by anyone other than you."

You swear you shouldn't roll your eyes so much but here you are doing just that. "It's no fun getting beat by anyone, period."

"Nah," he scrunches his nose up, shaking his head. "My ass should have reserved beating just for you."

You fail miserably at preventing the laugh from slipping through your lips and at that Sehun laughs along with you. It's a nice sound that you're sort of used to by now but then you're reminded that if something had gone wrong he probably won't be here. You step fully into the room and slam the door shut, not wanting to think about the flip side of the coin.

"So, what did you break?" You walk closer to the foot of his bed.

He doesn't look directly at you when he replies, instead, he focuses his line of sight on the center of your nose. "Three ribs. Broke my wrist and my knee. But it's okay though, it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm supposed to rest to help with the rehabilitation... that's all."

You tilt your head to the side. "Are you trying to convince me that you're fine?"

"I don't know? Maybe? Is it working?"

"Not really but I'll play along," you shrug, sitting down on the edge of his makeshift bed. "Just add this to our score. Y/N; 9, Windy; 5."

He nods in agreement, a small smile taking permanency on his face. It's a handsome face, if you were somebody else maybe you'll take an hour just to say hello. He has that effect on people. A silence that's neither comforting nor awkward falls on the two of you. You're running over the things you would like to say when Sehun's voice slivers into your subconscious.

"Sometimes being a hero is so exhausting, like, work is too... work and I'd rather sit at home reading or drinking tea. Or literally doing anything but hero work."

"Tell me about it. When I was a supervillain—" Sehun's abrupt snort cuts through your sentence and you shoot him a disbelieving glare. "Petty thief, fine. I'd have these days where I wouldn't want to do anything at all. But my dad was a workaholic."

"Was?"

"Yeah. He's in jail now. Can't really be a workaholic in prison, can you?"

"Ah, so it's your dad that was the villain. You were just a thief."

Now that you think about it, maybe he's right. You're just a thief and he's just the son of a hero. It's fairly normal occurrence in the reality you live in. There's nothing substantially bad about the two of you. Although you'll be honest, you don't know where this sense of inherent good is coming from.

You heave your shoulders, sighing into yourself. "Do you really think I can be a hero? Like this isn't some pipe dream and I'm not just wasting my life in this limbo all for nothing?"

"I think, and this just my opinion, that you can definitely be one if you want. I mean, you're already at a Super Academy. If there was a part of you that didn't even think you could be a superhero, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have given what I said that night any thought." There's something you don't recognize staining his voice. Maybe sincerity?

You don't time how long it takes for you to accept what he says but you do. Sehun has a way with words, you've known this but still, and tentatively you curve your lips into a smile. You stretch out your arms towards him, a prickling sense of embarrassment in the back of your throat.

"Come here."

"I thought you don't like hugs?"

You angle your head to the side. "Is that a no?"

Sehun shakes his head adamantly, launching himself (as much as he can) into your arms and you wrap them tightly around him. The action makes you feel dependable and you like it, but more than anything it feels safe.

"Thank—" He's about to say something when you nervously stutter out. "I, uh, like you."

"What?"

Shit. Oh, this is so embarrassing but you can't keep a secret like this. If you feel something, you have the urgent need to let it be known, hence this very awkward confession.

"I like you," you state again with a little more resolve. "And maybe you should cash in that dinner date I owe you because if you don't I'm going to start thinking you really don't like me back and imagine the horror if I've been—"

"Okay, stop!" He raises both hands up and you don't exhale. "I've been flirting with you nonstop for like a month, Y/N. If you don't think I like you back you're either stupid or I don't know, stupid."

You scoff at him, not quite believing that this is the boy you gave your first confession to. Someone who without fail just never stops.

"Can I... Can I ask you for something?"

"Sure, if it's about who owns my ass, I've already told you that it's yours."

You laugh, biting your tongue as you think over your request again. "Compliment me on something, anything."

He thinks about it for a second or maybe two, tapping his forefinger on his lip. And then the corners of his eyes crinkle and you know he's about to say something completely —

"You have the utmost grace and skill of a supervillain. The best, if I've ever seen one."

"Wow. Can you believe that I like you even more now?"

"It's okay," he sighs in pseudo-exasperation, "Even the great Y/N is weak to my charms."

You've been called a lot of things, some you admit boosted your ego, others not so much. Your father, ever the perfectionist had placed more secrets on you than you could carry. All those names that had filtered into your subconscious — speedster, villain child, dumb, the occasional failure, supervillain, petty thief — doesn't make you less or more of a person.

Yes, you admit, stealing was never noble and there are things you cant stop in the universe no matter how hard you try. And yes, you do know that just because your paradigms have realigned with something else doesn't mean the life of crime will magically stop. The show must go on, yeah, but you're not required to act in it. You have never been required to act in it.

Anyways, the point of this entire thing is that everyone deserves that one person who has the ability to look over their past, their wrongs, their misgivings, and their flaws and yet still cares for them anyway.

We're not obligated to do anything for each other, we're not obligated to reach a hand out to someone that's blundering in the dark all on their own because that's all they've ever known. But it's kind to do so. And yeah, some may call this ridiculous naiveté but maybe... Maybe that's the real super thing in this world, at least to you. For you, Sehun is a close second to one of the fantastic things you've recently learned about the world. The first being, that heroes, and villains as hard as they are to identify are one of the same coin. You can't really—

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask Sehun when he reaches up with his fingers and laces them together with yours.

He looks at you deliriously happy and a part of you shivers. "Huh? Like what?"

"Like you're going to say something effortlessly cheesy. I'm lactose intolerant, you know, I won't stand for this."

Windy cocks his head to the side, amused. "I... haven't said anything." And for the first time in a long time, he is right. The boy who never puts on a lid has one on now.

But you're looking at me like that, you think, you don't particularly have to say anything.

"Yeah, you're looking at me like that. All intense and shit like you want me to just fall head over heels in love with you."

His grin widens — as impossible as that sounds, and his eyes don't once slip away from your face. "I'm not sorry about that."

There's a pause and then a beat from you. "Neither am I."

He uses your interlocked fingers to drag your body closer to him, you find out that you like this feeling of being next to him. He has this smell, like lavender but softer and it inflames your entire senses and makes you whole. The two of you look like damned fools, cheeks threatening to crack as you continue smiling at each other. And then you push yourself impossibly close until your breath is fanning his face and he's no longer smiling anymore.

"Would you mind if I kissed you right now?" Your chest is pounding unbelievably loud and it's about to burst altogether.

Sehun chuckles at your question. "I think I might get offended if you don't."

You didn't have the mind to laugh back with him instead you bend your lips lower and connect them with his. And it feels like your entire center of gravity is shifting, colliding with something you don't know and can't be bothered to find out. It drags you down with him until your hands are unlocking from his and finding haven in his hair. Windy reaches back with a hand and rubs slight circles on the nape of your neck while his other hand rests comfortingly on the sliver of exposed skin on your hip.

Delirious and uncharacteristically slow, the two of you pull apart trying desperately to catch your breaths against the rhythmic beating of your hearts. Your eyes meet. His; quiet, gentle, a declaration that when you do fall head over heels, you would — without a doubt, be caught. Your lips turn up into another small smile, another feeling bubbling up in your chest.

And just like that, you've found the third most fantastic thing this world has to offer.

You reach closer, this time with more desperation in your actions. Sehun makes a startled noise in surprise but then his body relaxes into yours. You slip your tongue into his mouth and the electricity that spikes through your veins — all the way from your toes and sharp enough to make you lose all control in your head — is nothing short of fantastical.  

Your fingers slip from his hair and cup his face as you scoot your body over the bed and perch your thighs on top of his, bringing your bodies impeccably close. Windy tilts his head up, and pushes his chest harder into yours, deepening your kiss. Your mind is already frazzled and unlike your usual your thoughts, everything is slowed. And you like this feeling. Nothing is so fast anymore. You're not running blindly in the dark any longer and shit, this is an amazing feeling.

The two of you break apart again, the dire need to breathe becoming an issue. But all you want to do is stay here, kissing the fuck out of him. And watching him become putty under the feeling of your body.

"Tell me something," you breathe out.

"Anything."

Smiling through the motions, you toy with the ends of his inky black hair, not once taking your attention from his face.

"Promise me that you won't lose to anyone other than me ever again."

He chuckles at that, the light in his eyes shimmering. "Not to sound like a broken record, babe, but I already told you. My ass has been reserved for you... don't ruin it, please. It's quite a nice ass. If I do say so myself—"

"Oh my god," you groan into the crook of his shoulder, trying to hide your laughter but, it reverberates on his exposed skin. "Shut up."

"Would you make me?"

You arch your eyebrow at him, scoffing. "Gladly," before you silence any and all further words with your lips on his.

A/N: oh shit, i had too much fun writing this and i screamed like a thousand times as i wrote but i hope people like this and enjoyed it. thank you so so much for reading !!!

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2018 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

[trippinglynet]

Fucking Adjust | NRC Handelsblad (Dutch) | Coverage of Burning Man 1997

Fucking Adjust: Visiting Burning Man, a "temporary autonomous zone" in the desert.

Originally published as a nightly feature in Dutch by daily evening newspaper NRC Handelsblad as part of the Out of Control culture column.

by Sandra Küpfer 1 "Even eleven years ago they wanted to know what it meant."

In San Francisco at the end of August everyone wants to go to Nevada with ten thousand stoned people to burn a wooden statue and roll naked through the mud.

2 Sean Kirkpatrick (31), former drummer of the band Swell and art director for a snowboarding company, talked to us about Burning Man last year. Sitting on at the edge of the swimming pool in his apartment complex in the heart of Silicon Valley, fifteen kilometers from San Francisco he talked about the absolute nothing of the desert. The white, cracked sand face in all directions. It is "as if you were standing on the moon."

You could jump in a car, put a rock on the gas pedal, lock the steering wheel in a 360-degree arch, lie on the roof, and drive in loops while you look at the stars. "There is really nothing there man, it's not like you can hit something."

Big fires, whirlwinds everywhere with desert dust, the sound of pistols in the night. Two people were killed.

3 www.burningman.com [1997 archive]: A giant beehive of bulletin boards, meeting places, photo articles from newspapers and webzines, links to the underground of San Francisco, desert survival info, and the Burning Man mailing list: "for everyone who can handle the traffic"

4 A t-shirt reads: Burning Man 1996, Woodstock or Altamont - You decide!

5 In 1986, the first Man went wild. Larry Harvey burned him with eleven friends on San Francisco beach. For the sake of fun. In order not to get in trouble with the police, they had smuggled the thing into the rocks at night.

Larry Harvey from Wired on the 1990 gathering at Baker Beach: ”We needed forty people to drag the body parts around in rotating teams. It is difficult to keep a low profile with a four-story giant. And wonderfully absurd. … Even then, people wanted to know what it meant. We just did it. Once the thing was up, it really didn't have to mean anything.”

6 >Date: Sat, 23 Aug 1997 01:35:12 +0000 >From: Sandra Kupfer >To: press@burningman.com >Subject: a little info about me Hey there, I write a series of reports for a Dutch newspaper under the title OUT OF CONTROL. It's about chaos in pop culture at the end of the millennium. From the loose design of Ray Gun via the violence in LA to the chaotic world of the net. Chaos brings new possibilities, new liberties. We also get OUT OF CONTROL in that sense: pop culture is increasingly shrinking from mainstream, state, media and marketing control. Burning Man seems to be the embodiment of those trends. To participate, but by documenting without prejudice what happens. Respect, Sandra >Subject: Re: a little info about me >Date: Sun, 24 Aug 1997 16:42:57 -0700 (PDT) >From: Maid Marian >To: Sandra Kupfer Sandra, We are interested in your article, and in you. COME FIND ME, please!!! Marian Goodell (aka: Maid Marian) Manager of Communications

7 Every few minutes the envelope blinks on my screen: mail from the BM-list: Tent construction in the desert. How Burning Man is progressing with its BLM permit (it’s not). Soil conditions. And again, in the Nevada Black Rock Desert, desert resistance of pets (none). GET ME OFF THIS CRAZY THING ... WILMA!!!!

Desire for the playa: I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT 8 Giant Naked Twister in CYBERBUSS Camp

9 Dutch is the tenth nationality aboard the CYBERBUSS: American Canadian Brazilian English Swiss German Italian French Venezuelan 10 CybersAM (29), an online marketer and web designer from San Francisco, points to the old school bus.

”This was the first one we saw. I wanted to look further, but Yanick said: buy. No discussion possible. He has paid one half, all of us the other.”

Yanick (27), Canadian, nods.

Together they worked for months to make it into CYBERBUSS. Now they are on report for CYBERSPACE. Sam makes digital photos, which he sends to the world from the desert with a laptop and satellite phone www.cyberbuss.com:

Join the CYBERBUSS on a VIRTUAL TRIP to Burning Man! They arrived days ago. The content of the BUSS - wood, plastic, glitter, pieces of dust, stars, water guns, benches, tables, silver paint, drinks, drugs, food and friends - is scattered over CYBERBUSS CAMP.

Cyberbuss Camp.

Sam, bare-chested and wearing big black glasses on his shaved silver-painted head, speaks Portuguese with Baucho and Monica from Brazil, once stopped by and lingered.

Cathy (26) from San Francisco, long wavy copper blond hair, freckles, sparkling gaze, in black patent boots and a purple bra, paints silver stripes on Anton's face, a diplomat son raised in England with a boarding school accent and long dark hair. 

Kurt (28), Swiss, is a researcher for a web video company in SF. He plays in a woolly crawler suit and a hat with fur ears on a multicolored home-made piano. 

Yanick and Carlos from Venezuela, in shrieking dresses and pointed hats, exchange obscenities about attractive boys while Cody, a four-star chef in leather pants, bakes pizzas to eat later. Sam: We all work. But this - he points to the chaos around us - is what we live for 11 Money is useless in Black Rock City You bring everything yourself. Pancakes are bartered in exchange for a dance, bicycles for chocolate, beer for a joke.

There are no ties with the business world, the official art world or the authorities. There are no subsidies, sponsors, cola or hamburgers. Burning Man is run non-commercially from ten living rooms. It organizes itself. Via the site you arrange travel, camp, food and entertainment.

We ourselves are the biggest attraction 12 In the Blue Light District, after the nocturnal color fades, more email-names get faces. There are many theme camps from the BBS system the BM Org hosts. There are daily cocktail parties at Country Club Camp. Drinks are not for sale, but everyone hoists absinthe and tequila because the only house rule is DRINK OR MOVE ON!

Geekboy, a 28-year-old hacker, computer programmer and postmaster of the list, is talking to John, the Black Rock Desert Radio Pastor, who later will get married that week in Black Rock City - twice, because the in-laws get lost in the desert. The SPACE COW GIRLS of the SPACE COW GIRL CAMP further down stomp into cowboy pants of long-haired blue and orange fur that reveal their buttocks in shiny lycra, Stetsons on their Betty Page hairstyles, the lush necklines pressed into small lace tops. As a Black Rock City Fashion Patrol, they tirelessly pursue FASHION PERPETRATORS. I get a compliment for THE LARGEST HAIR PIN ON THE PLAYA We walk among the freaks on the cracked playa where in a pile of hay the sound of a generator sounds like a house: someone builds a huge statue of ice in the middle of the desert.

13 Pink Barbie Wedding 14 It's just like Beavis and Butthead. Massive MEDIA SMARTNESS. 

Everything is second hand under the motto better stolen well than badly conceived. Everything is taken for granted. Everyone has taken books, music, lyrics, letters, photos, television, film, news, animation, the web and advertising out of context and put them on the playa. We laugh all day long. The bright desert light makes all those media fragments just as meaningless as you often experience them yourself. Everyone here looks through your eyes.

15 The writer Douglas Rushkoff (Cyberia) mentions the Droste effect in his book Children of Chaos: that typical, distant view of media-wise young people. Douglas Rushkoff, October 9: Mirroring or repeating contains something on a new level. You get that with the mirrors of self-parables like Beavis and Butthead in front of the TV mirroring the experience of the person watching - it's just like a Shakespearean game-in-a-game. Mirrored insight is thinking: aha! 16 The sun disappears behind the mountains, the sky turns bright red. Cheering sounds from all over Black Rock City.

17 We see the procession of monks with lanterns moving through the streets to the double row of lights that stretches through desert to the purple and green skeleton of the Man. In Center Camp, dark under the clear sky, he stands out against the fires that flare up everywhere groups of people bask in the glow.

We stand on top of the CYBERBUSS to see the crowd proceed into the desert, their silhouettes black against the piles of fire in the distance around the Man. Jim Mason from San Francisco makes our silver-painted cheeks flicker in a meter-long blue fire tongue from the rusty barrel of the Veggiematic, a monstrous flame-thrower on man-sized wheels.

I run into the playa to take pictures. The colorful tribe travels through the flickering light to the grand arena on the playa, glittering waders and soft smooth boy faces, aliens, a snorkeler and girls in pink, shivering in the desert chill, to the arena with the towering Man, surrounded by naked bodies dancing around it in an ingenious choreography.

People jump back when a human torch pops out of the dark, the heaps of hay jumps around the Man and runs around the pedestal, arms, legs, head burning and waving in the dark, while the hay swells in bright flames that rise past the Man shoot into the sky.

When the Man catches fire the neon explodes and fire shoots in all directions. The dancers put their fists in the air. People push towards the fire and the circle starts to move around the Man, We walk in a large circle around the man Faster and Closer, while the dancers flee the inner ring, Increasingly smaller, Hotter and hotter The Man howls and we plunge into the scorching heat boys run laps as fast as they can in the hellish glow of the Man girls throw their clothes off while everyone sings and shouts and dances to the sound of percussion everywhere. A hippie is wearing a marquee on his head BURN BURN BURN and on the couch of the mobile living room a young couple makes love. 18 The first Man burned to forget a failed love. Larry Harvey: “If we had set fire to a wooden statue in a museum or gallery, it would have been a one-time thing. Then you repeat yourself and everyone thinks: you did it again, with that thing. But on the beach there were three times as many people around it than could have been in a gallery. Burning something together does something to you. That's why we still do it.”

At the last Burn on the beach a frightening herd of drunken pyromaniacs faced off with the police, with Harvey in between. So the event moved to the desert in Nevada, half a day's drive from San Francisco. “Now that it became difficult to get there, people had to work together, survive together. Everyone who made it automatically became a participant.”

The fire festival has grown in eleven years from a large campfire to an outrageous spectacle with ten thousand actors. According to Harvey, the party runs on "radical free expression" in addition to surviving together. It is a drama with ten thousand storylines, and even the catharsis is interactive.

Although he now finds the broken heart story somewhat embarrassing, he says in the Wired book: It is striking how many people you meet here are at a crossroads in their lives: either they are just alone again, or they are making a crisis by whether they are in love again. Nobody leaves as he arrived.

Someone said: Burning Man is an ideal opportunity to try out a new personality.

19 At four o'clock the playa is quiet except for some scattered techno parties and the Dead Kennedys in Pedal Camp, the Blade Runner-like camp of a circus of stray kids. Sam passes a joint. I lie in a chair in a bright pink lycra dress, gold foil from Cody's kitchen with silver tape from wrist to shoulder wrapped around my arms against the chilly desert air, black body painting, silver smudges on my face and chest. Baucho is sleeping on the couch.

Someone said Jim is going to burn the ice statue with the Veggiematic, Sam says: Is that possible? I say yes and Sam takes a sip and grins. He made it himself. Kurt shouts… He sees Jim. We run through the darkness, jump over tent lines, evade parts of artwork, past the luxury bus where Larry and Marian are sleeping, shouting at Pedal Camp. JIM'S BURNING THE ICE SCULPTURE and the stony punks immediately jump up to the edge of the playa where the spiny silhouettes of the hard core stand out against the monstrous beam of fire. Jim sits on top of the Veggiematic.

the grand Ice statue orange blue in the sea of ​​flames BURN THE FUCKER shouting bright blonde kids in Carhartts BURN THE BITCH and pierced girls grinning. A blond girl in a pink slip dress and someone in a rabbit suit stand mesmerized. A huge drill in front of the Veggiematic starts turning and creaking Jim pulls and slams the untouched Ice Statute kids screaming GET THE BITCH

Bunnie scurries towards Blondie, who is laughing with a smile. They exchange a first glance, grin, stand hand in hand. He takes her in his arms, they hug, kiss, cling to each other, breathe and kiss.

Broadway eat your heart out, someone says, teeth shimmering in the glow of the maniacal fire and Blondie and Bunnie look at each other and walk ecstatic glances over their shoulders into the desert.

20 People are fucking in the desert.

Geezers drive their hormonal shit to the limit and just don't fall dead. Girls are grinning at it. The girls are noisy, lush and in charge. No one is going to fuck with THEM. They walk half naked without bullshit. Boys burn the whole thing down without anyone nagging. The sexes get along well in the Black Rock Desert.

21 There is no Greenpeace. There is an Environmental Disaster Camp, a nuclear power plant run by guys in cool radiation suits. And the Authentic Meat Eaters Association. Shots are being fired. Big Rig Industries hands out badges:

EAT FUCK KILL

22 Little Burning Man: "screw up with that giant" PISS CLEAR: rebel-zine against the official Black Rock Gazette. Anti Burning Man Camp: FUCK BURNING MAN 23 Glen Ricci (27), a web designer from Capitol Hill in the Washington Post : It rises above the hippie idea of ​​peace, love and understanding. That is too simple. The point is that you realize that everyone is different, and that you find a place for all those differences. There is even room for hatred and destruction as long as you participate in the community and you follow a few simple rules. To me, that is more concrete than such an elusive concept as "peace."

24 Larry Harvey: "Burning Man says nothing ABOUT society. IT IS a society." 25 Brad Wieners, editor of WIRED, refers in Burning Man to Hakim Bey's concept of the Temporary Autonomous Zone Bey: A Temporary Autonomous Zone is a revolt without direct confrontation with the State, a guerrilla operation covering an area (in country, time, or the imagination) and then dissolve itself again before the State can do its destructive work, to unfold somewhere else a little later. "

26 At dawn I walk through the motionless city to the edge of the playa. Public Enemy sounds from Pedal Camp. WELCOME TO THE TERRORDOME

I walk between the rusty wheels, saws, bars, chains, gas cylinders and metallic residues to the corrugated iron roof where punks get Pedal Camp bikes apart drinking beer and the components welded together. The bikes are scattered on the sand like metal tramps in the pale pink morning light, some two or three storeys high, with twin or set saddles, and I find one that rides. If you have anything from a collateral, it's really cool, says a girl with a big tattoo. I take off my sweater and am in a purple slip dress in the pink-white morning. The girl says whatever. I take it off and put the sweater back on. I drive out of Pedal Camp into the desert. The ground is cracked into chunks that crackle under the tires. I drive into the void. The soft sun warms my face. After a while I step barefoot on the crackled salt bed of the playa, a prehistoric lake bottom, and I notice my feet sinking through the salty crust into a soft clay layer. I start running, plodding through the mud, to a shimmering lake on the horizon. For a while I run as fast as I can, pulling a wavy trail through nothing Then I walk slower and take off my clothes and stand still in the chilly desert air, the mirrored water is just as far away only in the void silence the rising sun on my stomach, legs and chest. 27 In Pedal Camp I put the bike back and the girl takes off the purple slip dress. 28 This year, for the first time, camera teams from CNN and NBC are taking over the playa. The media reception at Black Rock Gazette Camp is a busy gathering with its own tribal marks: pens, aftershave, watches. CNN cameramen and journalists in polo shirts are drinking green glass absinthe with plastic press cards around their necks: THIS PASS GIVES RIGHT TO NOTHING IN PARTICULAR Masked rebels shoot the press with water guns. A man with a beard paints a glittering rainbow in my neckline with purple and pink while a woman named Rainbow holds up his palette and smiles. 29 The highly educated people in their twenties and thirties, marketing statistics from birth, do not trust the media for a cent. They think the press is coming to look for monkeys, looking for sensational stories on behalf of the advertisers.

31 Anti-Burning Man column in PISS CLEAR: Burning Man is bigger than ever this year. There are cameras and press and lots of people we have never seen before. And there are farmers who only come for fun, and day-trippers, who will never understand. 32 What We Hate - A Summary 1) The Media, in general, because you can't trust them to show us our best side 2) Photographers, because they shoot our tits without asking 3) Pet-Brothers, because we said NO DOGS 4) Yahoo's, whatever that is, because they are stupid and indifferent and only want to party 33 In Black Rock City you laugh at politics. But whoever comes to the city comes to you. The whatever shruggers get excited about one thing: their own autonomy. 34 Not that it should be ideal immediately. Ideals are a waste of time. PISS CLEAR: No, it's not like five years ago when we were only a few hundred. And it will never be like that again. SO FUCKING ADJUST 35 All of Black Rock City is a work of art. Although the camp seems null and void in the immensity of the desert, the main street is a mile-long boulevard along more than two hundred theme camps - something in between architecture, installation, performance, theater, sculpture, opium kit, camping site and caravan camp. There are no limitations in form, material or disciplines, and the entire population is an artist. There is no difference between daily life and performance.  It is a mass creation of individuals who, while inventing an ideal city, an ideal art form and an ideal community, reinvent themselves. 36 Burning Man has as many meanings as visitors. And that is no wonder, because in the end it is a product of their imagination. If, like the writer William Gibson, you believe that we dream the whole reality together, you can see in Burning Man a good example of a virtual community that becomes reality, a society with its own model of reality. If you, like the highly-educated web twenties in Burning Man, believe that you can re-imagine yourself, create a community out of the blue, dream a city together, generate massive involvement in the survival of that city, adapt to reality such as who is able to make contact with like-minded souls around the world can work and live where you want Are you are free to do what you want 37 Burning Man is bankrupt Harvey: The police left yesterday with more than $120,000. The permit came one day before the event’s start. 

Last-minute condition: transfer the entire cash register for use by the police and fire brigade. The bill has not yet been specified. The debt is now around $60,000. How legal that is will be the judge. There were enough lawyers in Black Rock City. 38 Harvey: Everyone was wondering if we could continue to grow at this pace - passive spectators would smother creativity, restrict new rules of freedom, or everything would be disastrous. Of course there has been no fire, aggression or vandalism. In six days, two people have been arrested in a population of 10,000 - a possible low crime record for all of Nevada. This was the most vibrant, creative, connected Burning Man ever. Our website is red hot, money appears in the mailbox and people I have never seen spontaneously collect. Apparently everyone wants it to go on. We are not only going to pay off our debts, but build a fund for the future. If you think about it properly, the problem is only money.

And as important as it sometimes seems, money is ultimately our least valuable resource. 39 San Francisco, a restless colony of gold diggers, the last frontier on the west coast, the most densely populated place on earth, continues to expand. Thirty years after the Summer of Love, a new generation of flower children in Black Rock City dreams of having their own domain in MARKETING HELL. 40 The art itself. You must be able to laugh about it, participate in it, you must be able to dance to it or have sex with it and it must be able to break.

41 The first day in the desert you are miserable, the second even worse: headache, nausea, dehydration. After three bone-dry days and sleepless nights, your body will get the message. You fucking adjust.

The day after the burn, the desert is a horizonless chill out zone. Black Rock City is already fading in the wind. The organization is drinking with the fire brigade in Larry's camp. They will return next year, but then as a participant.

The street punks of Pedal Camp, across the dusty main street, are under the corrugated iron roof of food and drink. They stay a week to clean the grounds. "We do it every year," says an eighteen-year-old boy. We don't care. We received food, drinks and dope from everyone before they left. Tonight we will cook a six-course dinner. What ever.

The organization's inventory mail is also full of given away bags, tins and boxes of food. We pick out vegetables for Cody who wants to bake the pizzas as a gift for the wedding reception of Reverend John, Black Rock City radio minister. Back in CYBERBUSS CAMP we all eat bagels, muffins, blue corn chips at the big table in Cody's bar.

I fall down and grin when I think of the corporate credit card in my pocket and the anarchist energy on the playa.

[cazarekohsamuicazarec-blog]

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[fashiontrendin-blog]

Work and Play With a Side of Fries: Amelia’s Paris Fashion Week Diary

http://fashion-trendin.com/work-and-play-with-a-side-of-fries-amelias-paris-fashion-week-diary/

Work and Play With a Side of Fries: Amelia’s Paris Fashion Week Diary

Saturday, 7:15 a.m.

Contrary to the popular belief held by those who’ve consumed alcohol the night before, 7:15 a.m. is a pretty nice time to be awake in Paris.

I’m up to catch up on the work I missed while traveling yesterday and to start to chip away at deadlines due next week. If I learned one thing from last February Paris Fashion Week, it’s that there’s always less free time to get work done than you think. My first appointment is at 10:30 a.m., so I’m what the French call, “concentrating.”

I’m a little anxious…

10 a.m.

Done-ish, enough to go get breakfast at least. Spencer, my boyfriend, is here for the weekend and he’s helping to keep me on schedule. We go to a kind of weird place that’s definitely a tourist trap, but a croissant and jam is a croissant and jam, you know? I am still a little anxious. I think it’s the combination of my impending schedule and not totally knowing my way around and not having all my ducks in a row. But still, Paris. Also, I spot Alber Elbaz and have a spazzy moment of feeling designer-star-struck, which I didn’t think happened to me? Just when you think you’re cool!

10:30 a.m.

First stop of the day is the Peter Pilotto showroom to see the clothes he showed in London, up close and personal. It’s bright and colorful and jumpstarts yesterday’s good mood. I try on a coat. I schmooze. I relax.

11:30 am

I’m at Magda Butrym, where the collection was inspired by Dolly Parton (please let this theme continue). I fall in love instantly with the ruffled sleeves, padded shoulders, hot pink and red silks and rhinestones but… THE SHOES! I love one pair of tall boots that were about my height in particular, and some heels with removable puffy bows. It’s all so eighties; in the wrong fabrics, could very well be tacky. But these textiles are luxe and the draping is like “UGH!” and it’s all so good. Clothes like these make me wish I were a different kind of person, more balls-to-the-wall in how I dress.

12 p.m.

The world’s greatest cab driver, Yusef, has picked me up and is singing along to “Lady in Red.” He wears a very nice baby blue cable knit sweater. We bond over classic 80s music. We are instant friends and my brain does this thing it did last time I was here where it shouts super loud, “HEY AMELIA, MAYBE YOU SHOULD MOVE TO PARIS.”

12:30 p.m.

Altuzarra, though staged in the middle of La Couple, a brasserie that’s apparently a real establishment here, brings me back to New York for a moment as I’m seated between a few friends from back home. I’m not constantly with friends here in the way that I am during NYFW, so when I do run into them, it’s nice. Someone almost always has a portable phone charger, a snack and a hug.

Altuzarra’s collection reminds me of New York, too: glen plaid and pinstripe suits, a trench, a cozy shearling coat. My favorite items are the dresses: one purple dress in tie-dye velvet with a sort of modern-medieval neckline, a few with ruching and off-the-shoulder sleeves (but only if you want — choose your own adventure) adorned with glittering metallic paillettes. It’s not capital F fashion, but the collection has style. Pair with that Altuzarra’s pin-sharp tailoring and its wearer will instantly feel like she has her shit together.

1:30 p.m.

I just dropped Elle.com’s Nikki Ogunnaike off in a cab where we spent the ride chatting about how much the industry has changed since our intern days (a lot). I ate this little cake while she spoke, scooping out the inside, leaving its chocolate shell, which I offered to Nikki too late to actually be considered polite. She declined (it was kind of gross) and then had to go. Bye, friend!

Soon after, at Natasha Zinko, the designer plays with the concept of a working, successful woman who isn’t defined by her job, but rather by all the pieces that make up her personality, which she may only reveal here and there.

Then I try on these weird sunglasses that make me look like an alien.

2:30 p.m.

I quickly stop by Mira Mikati for a burst of rainbow color and a go-kart/carnival theme, then I head home to charge my phone and meet up with Spencer, who has spent all day eating his heart out at the Musee d’Orsay. I visit the museum vicariously through him as I swipe through photos of Rodin’s sculptures on his phone.

4:30 p.m.

After some work, he and I walk to a cafe my Parisian friend Sophie recommends, but it’s full, so we go somewhere whatever where I get an okay salad, fries and a Diet Coke. Then we get a text from our friend Gabby, who’s doing PR for a few shows, that she has a break and wants us to come meet her and her friends at the Ferris wheel, so we do, snag a six person gondola and have a truly delightful time on top of the world.

5:30 p.m.

The lot of us walk through the Tuileries at an impressively slow pace because we all have to stop and take about a million versions of the same photo. The lighting was good so no complaints. Once everyone gets a new profile picture, we part ways.

6:30 p.m.

Spencer and I are posted up at Cafe Flore with Sophie, my friend who suggested the earlier spot. I’m taking this opportunity to push through emails, but since I am the only person on my phone, I wrap far more quickly than I would have if we were in New York. We’ve crashed Sophie’s drinks with her friends and overstay our welcome until about 8 p.m., when I have to run to Sonia Rykiel. Spencer stays; he’s very French now.

8:45 p.m.

Jet lag was just about to hit when Sonia Rykiel wakes me up. The show concludes with two loud confetti-exploding POPS! Models laugh and dance down the end of the runway. Then Bananarama comes on to sing and champagne is passed around. It is a celebration of the label’s 50th anniversary and a joyful tribute to the late iconic designer. The clothes themselves were both fun and very “ready-to-wear,” nothing so FASHION that everyone couldn’t enjoy them, save for the four fluffy-hatted snow monsters that opened the show in tandem. My favorite look was a green glitter dress on a model who charged the runway in thigh high boots with a caramel-colored bolero.

9:30 p.m.

It should be time for bed, but instead, it’s time for dinner. We eat, though nothing major, I am sorry to report, then around 11:30 p.m. we take a long walk back to the hotel. My feet hurt but it’s worth it; it’s easier to see the sights on foot.

Sunday, 12 p.m.

Following a rainy morning spent debating where to eat in-between emails and some work for Hotel MR (!!!), I stop by the Tome presentation to see Ryan Lobo and Ramon Martin’s latest collection. It’s inspired by the artist Tschabalala Self, and though she wasn’t in the room today, she appears in the lookbook. I love this collection, all wide legs and clashed patterns. I think my favorite, if I had to choose, is the layered plaid look that features accordion pleats that are practically camouflaged in all the pattern.

1-4 p.m.

Time is starting to blend together. After Tome, where I run into Tamu McPherson, who is best-dressed dressed for the rain in a clear Maison Michel hat, I have a re-see at Nina Ricci, where I discover details I didn’t catch from my seat, like the corduroy texture of a gray suit (apparently the brand does corduroy every Fall/Winter, which I did not know) and the crinkle effect on a white silk dress.

5 p.m.

Time for Valentino. First thing to know is that, while everyone dresses up for every show in Paris — talk about the best of Sunday’s best — the crowd before and after Valentino come attired in head-to-toe full looks. (I’m still in my outfit from this morning, and I dressed for the rain. The weather’s since taken a turn for the sunny. Damn these chic women and their chic foresight.) When the show begins and the models start walking down an unpretentious, simple runway, I understand the crowd’s impulse to dress accordingly — even if that meant running home to change first. The clothes are so artfully crafted, so beautiful in a way that seems specific to Paris (that’s my romantic side writing, let it happen) that, as a viewer, I want to blend into the scenery, absorb into the world of Valentino, and pay respects.

The collection itself is a fairytale fantasy but not so fantastical that it’s absurd. Mostly, the fairytale is in reference to the little red riding hoods that come in a variety of colors, and the gowns that give proper use to the word “ethereal” — which I’d previously, in my own writing at least, embargoed. The rest of it is simple; not “easy” simple, or basic simple, but experienced, sweeping, painterly lines with just the right amount of bells and whistles.

6 p.m.

After meeting up with our roving street style photographer, Simon, to stage a photo for this story, I head to the Marais to meet my friends where I drink two negronis and eat vegetable pizza with a side of spaghetti bolognese. Weird combo but whatever, it’s the weekend. I have two-and-a-half-hours to kill before Thom Browne and my phone’s dead, so I charge it behind the bar (which means no checking email) and forget about fashion week for long enough to process it.

Feature image by Simon Chetrit. Photos via Amelia Diamond.

[ravelrie]

burning up for your love

this is a story about one of the countless ways burning man changed my life. it’s the story of the most tangible way it’s changed everything. i know what you’re thinking, another cliche blog post about how a white girl with privilege spent a week getting weird in the desert and came back this entirely different, but totally the same, person. 

some of the changes i noticed in myself and my life echo the same themes or even are phrased similarly to those that have come before me, and those that will come after me, because we live by the same set of values when we’re out there. i think as human beings, we all go out there looking for similar lessons. we look for comfort, answers, clarity, to figure out how to let go, and most of all, how to move forward as the most authentic version of ourselves (and sometimes come home doing this with [reckless] abandon). we are immersed in this deeply creative and chaotic community of intelligent beings -- there’s no way to come out of that and not feel at least kind of different when it’s all over and you’re back in the default world. 

i wasn’t expecting anything from burning man. i had no interest in having a playa romance, or engaging in anything other than the occasional “kiss me hard to say hello” greeting shared between dusty pals. somehow, i serendipitously found the love of my life, the penultimate experience i thought i’d have at burning man, followed only by being trapped in a bathroom at the trash fence. 

you may have read up to this point and be thinking, “okay, here we go, an essay about self-love and acceptance,” and while there are elements of that in what’s to come, it’s more-so a comedy full of “how the f*ck is this a real life experience?!”. 

so, here it goes...

ONCE UPON A TIME, in a desert reasonably far away from my upper east side apartment, i met the man i’d someday call my partner. it was a perfect night on the playa. it was a Wednesday (but just barely). it was warm, not too dusty, and clear views out to the trash fence were everywhere. i was wearing mad hatter socks, knee high doc marten platform boots, a bikini top, booty shorts, a white dress with chains down my back, white fur vest, and possibly a tiny top hat, but i may have removed it by this point. Oh, and i had goggles on and was riding a tricycle. 

i was adventuring around with one of my playa pals from Australia, who didn’t bring a bike to this desert as it actually was far, far away from the Gold Coast. we ended up at carl cox’s legendary white party at opulent temple, but decided to leave and check out more art installations and other sound camps. while I waited for him to find one of the brightly yellow colored community bikes, i sat perched atop my tricycle, lighting a menthol and staring off toward the mountains and many blinking lights to the west. suddenly, i see two white furry goggled things on bike racing toward me. 

One of the bikes pulled up gently beside my tricycle and began chatting. 

bike one: Hi! Are you having fun? How’s your burn going so far?

me: hey, it’s good so far, but -- and i never thought i’d ever say this -- i’m a little bored by carl’s set.

bike one: Us too, we’re leaving. (points to the second speeding bike making it’s way toward us) Can i happen to bum a cigarette by chance?

me: Sure! I just lit this menthol, but i have Marlboro lights and blue american spirits in my backpack if you prefer something different

bike one:A menthol would be great, actually! Thank you!

As i’m handing over the cigarette and lighter, the other bike stops short right in front of my tricycle, blowing dust into my face and shouts over the bass to strike up a conversation. 

bike two: You shouldn’t talk to him, he’s basically the worst person ever, also, smoking is the worst ever.”

Feeling sassy, I took a drag of my cigarette, ashed it in my portable ashtray prior to responding: Really? I think you’re the worst ever, you just got dust in my face! 

bike two: You know what, fuck your burn!

me: No, no, fuck your burn!

Bike two guy and I laughed in unison, eyes locked in on one another. As we giggled, more of his friends gathered around us, and my friend was suddenly back with a community bike. Once we realized other people were around us, we started chatting about our night moves, and if we should make them together.

bike two: So, what are you up to now?

me: We’re going to head back to the east side and try and find skrillex at camp questionmark

bike two: Us too! Do you, like, want to, i mean, should we just go together?

me: Sure, sounds like fun.

I wouldn’t learn his last name for five days, but we did spend 8 - 12 hours (time is weird and not super existent in black rock city) together, chasing and climbing art cars, trying to see skrillex everywhere, we thought he might pop up, and only separated to use the port-o-potties, which we ended up using the ones next to each other so we could still chat through the walls. 

Our friends just stared, and then followed us along the curve of the esplanade to camp q, where skrillex was not playing at the posted time, but major lazer was playing and we got whompy and wonky and my friend tapped me on the shoulder to leave because the bass was too much, and i said i would stay, we had new friends here, i’m sure i’d be okay ...what?! Why would i ever do this?! Ah, it’s burning man, i thought, fuck it, i feel safe with him, no idea why, and we’re having a lot of fun, so, might as well enjoy staring at diplo and dancing with fun people. I had also learned this entire group’s first names by this point. A was the most fun of the bunch. 

My friend left, and I stayed with this crew, well, this guy, for the rest of the night. Suddenly it was Thursday morning, and September, and we were still dancing, but on top of the camp q stage now, in our white furs, staring at each other and laughing, and just wiggling around to the music. Someone tapped us on the shoulder and said “wow, you guys are such a great burner couple! Your vibes are amazing and i love that you coordinated your outfits!” ‘thanks…’ we said in unison. ‘we met, like, four hours ago…’ “oh no way! That’s so dope! Rave on, guys!” and then we received a high five, and just looked at each other and laughed some more. 

We hadn’t kissed until just before this moment. I was dating someone back in NYC at the time, but hadn’t thought about them at all until here i was, about to kiss a cute guy on an art car stage. As i would later find out, he was dating someone seriously as well, back in a city across the country. Our noses had grazed while we were dancing, and he’d told me that my “body feels so soft, great job moisturizing” when he felt a patch of my skin on my back as he pulled me closer to him to get through the crowd, arm under my vest. We kissed and i can’t adequately articulate everything i felt as it was happening. Four hundred and twenty one days later, I still can’t explain it. but, there we were, griz playing 5 feet away from us, diplo dancing behind him, on top of camp question mark, ground shaking from the bass, noses barely touching, foreheads together, goggles and glasses moved to be headbands of sorts, and our lips met. his hands moved around my waist, feeling up my bare spine, pulling me into him, my arms tangled under his and around him, and i felt...grounded. there were many other feelings related to chemistry that are important, but the thing that sticks out to me most is feeling grounded, in the place least based in reality on earth. 

we continued our adventure once we came down from the stage area, re-acquainted ourselves with the group, holding hands now at all moments we weren’t on our bikes. 

there is more to the story about this night, best told in a separate post. the takeaway has been largely that from this single set of choices, i spent 363 days trying not to admit i was falling in love, and then very much in love, with this man. everything was wrong and working against this single night turning into something more. i rode home into the sunrise thursday morning, played in some art installations en route, and sleepily collapsed in my yurt, unable to shake him from my mind. his ability to stick there like someone super-glued him to everything was foreign to me because i’d never felt like this, close, yes, but never quite like this. i woke up friday morning in my camp’s shade structure, clad in pasties, booty shorts, a blue unicorn onesie, and light-blocking eye mask, and A tapping me to wake up up, saying, “um, hey, hil?” 

waking up to him there, just sitting near my feet, felt right, like it was already just the everyday thing that happened. we spent the next four days together, until he left, constantly together. we explored, we danced, we talked, we climbed anything and everything we could. we lost our bikes and embarked on a champagne campaign to find them, then offered gummy bears to an artist taking down an installation to cut the lock off because we lost the key the night before. 

i was in his city a few weeks after for work. we exchanged numbers as he was readying to leave the desert, and planned to grab a drink and catch up. the rest is history, as they would say, but it’s mostly us being friends and navigating everything we felt for each other in the default world, where we also had strong feelings for our people there. we held each other’s hands through the breakups that happened a few months after returning home for him, and the on/off breaking up but back together for me, partaking in the world of online dating and profile creation and photo choices, talked every single day. ended up with the same 8ft unicorn pool floats as a random coincidence. would facetime at random moments. my mom got really sick. he would always pick up when i called at a weird hour, and the few times he didn’t, he always called me back or sent me a quick text to see what was going on. he offered to fly out when i buried her. i went out in june for work, and it’d been so many months since we’d touched, and seen each other in real life. standing on post street, i watched him run through the cross walk, felt him pick me up and spin me around, and then, he kissed me, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do in that moment. our friendship had been complicated, but fairly chaste since we had significant others. but here we were, kissing on a street corner in union square, both single, both elated to be in the same city and in front of each other. we realized we should probably give this a go, since the timing was lining up okay to try and be together. he told me he loved me the second day of burning man this year, like it was something we just said to each other every day. here we are, 421 days later, in love, not afraid to plan for the future, and taking everything as a welcome baby step. 

I ramble on about these things because in them are all the lessons that we learn from burning man that take time to sink in and manifest: patience, communication, trust, flexibility, and most of all, balance. 

i fell in lust with someone not knowing their last name for five days, and drinking pedialyte biking around a desert. i fell in love with someone who is funny, kind, adventurous, smart, handsome, passionate, logically spontaneous, and who isn’t afraid to be just as he is, and lets me be just as i am, without ever thinking to ask me to change something about what makes me, me. when you meet at burning man, you can’t pretend to be something or someone you’re not. you just are who you are. you don’t smell great, you’re sweaty ALL THE TIME. you’re also covered in dirt and dust and may have been wearing the same pair of underwear for 3 straight days. you’re just existing and being present in everything, everywhere you are. 

we live 2,911 miles from each other, according to google maps. we spend a lot of time on logistics, but we’re always present. there isn’t anything that takes precedence over one another in our lives. we make the time to coexist because somehow, the universe brought us together, and handed us a pretty shit situation, and we communicated through it, grew through it, and realized that what we felt for each other, was love. 

i’m that girl that went to burning man once, and met my future. i met myself, i met my partner, and i met the life i’d always wanted to have, knowing that you don’t have to compromise adventure for normalcy. 

it’s a messy journey to a fairy tale ending, but i like it that way. 

[thehatchcreates]

Art Profile: The Indianapolis Art Center

If you’ve been into The Hatch lately, you’ve probably noticed an interactive art installation called “The Art Bar.” Designed to foster creativity and intuitive breaks in your day, The Art Bar is an installation that is part of an art outreach by the Indianapolis Art Center. In an effort to better understand the center, we sat down for an in depth Q & A with two key people at the Art Center, Alyson Walbridge and Michelle Winkelman. Read on to hear what they have to say...

 -How did you come up with the idea for the Art Bar? What do you hope to accomplish with it?

Michelle: We came for a tour of the Hatch with Maggie and tossed around a lot of ideas for how our spaces and programs could work together. Alyson and I were impressed with how the Hatch integrates creativity and wellness into the coworking space. We saw the self-service juice bar with fresh juice from the Garden Table and riffed off of that to create the Art Bar.

Alyson: The Art Center has also been thinking about wellness in the workplace. One of the things I was already thinking about was how to re-boot my work flow – how to get that creative jolt when I get stuck or tired during the day. The Art Bar is really about that. We want to encourage people to be creative every day, even if it’s only for five minutes. And of course we hope the Art Bar is a way to connect people to the Art Center to take that creativity even further.

-For those who don't know, what is the Art Center? Who does it serve? What is it's mission? Where is it located?

The Indianapolis Art Center’s mission is to engage, enlighten, and inspire our community through interactive art education, outreach to underserved audiences, support of artists, and exposure to the visual arts. We started as a Works Progress Administration (WPA) program during the Great Depression with just a few teaching artists and a handful of students. Today our building and nine-acre ArtsPark are located at 820 E 67th Street in the Broad Ripple neighborhood, welcoming over 250,000 visitors annually. The Art Center’s building has gallery spaces with rotating, curated exhibits featuring contemporary art, and over a dozen studio spaces equipped for art media ranging from drawing and painting to blacksmithing, ceramics, glassblowing, and many more. Our core programs include:

-Art classes varying in skill level, length, and media for adult and youth students

-Rotating exhibitions that are always free and open to the public

-ArtReach, a free, community-based after-school art program for youth in low-income areas of Indianapolis, which reaches about 1,000 students annually

-Six weeks of Summer Art Camps for youth ages 4-18

-The Broad Ripple Art Fair

-Indy’s first Teen Art Council

and lots more!

-What other upcoming projects are you most excited about? 

Alyson: Lately I’ve been having a lot of fun planning our Pop-Up Date Night coming up on February 17, not only planning the classes but also putting together decorations and goody bags and really going all-out with the Valentines theme, making it really cheesy but also really fun! I’m excited to see people here on that night, not only in the studios but also mingling at an Art Center event.

Michelle: Even though my work is mostly focused on our classes, I always get excited when we have an exhibition opening coming up. The next one is February 10 from 6-9pm. One of the shows opening that night is called About Face, and it’s various interpretations of portraiture and features several local artists. Our openings are a great way to cap off the week, and with bars and restaurants within walking distance you can really make a night of it. Our openings are free and family-friendly, too.

-What inspires you or drives you to create?

Michelle: I see visual art as another way to communicate – sometimes a better way to communicate, especially complex ideas or emotions that I have a harder time putting into words. Creativity and the creative process are a process for me; sometimes it matters a lot more what happens during that process than what the end result ends up being. When I haven’t created something in a long time I can feel bottled up; art and art-making is a release for me. It’s a way to work with, interpret, or make sense of the world around you.

Alyson: I’m currently in a ceramics class at the Art Center, and I find I’m inspired by the other students in my class. The community really helps to draw out new ideas and try new things in my work. Working in such a creative environment, I’m also inspired daily by my coworkers and the exhibitions in our galleries.

-How do you balance the creative side of your organization with the business/administrative side? Do you have any advice for individuals in creating a similar balance? 

Michelle: Well, as a non-profit, we definitely have to pay attention to the business side of what we do. That’s a large part of my role at the Art Center, trying to make opportunities possible but also sustainable. I guess that I have some days that I work more heavily on those kind of projects. When I find myself sitting behind the computer for too long I try to remind myself to get out of my chair and walk through the halls, pop into the studios, and witness people in the midst of that creative process. I’ve had lots of conversations on this topic with people in all kinds of non-profits and it always seems to come back to the mission – don’t lose sight of your mission, live your mission.

Alyson: I try not to separate those two sides, actually. Since our mission is encouraging others to be creative, I try to be creative in all of my work, whether it’s business/administrative or something more typically “creative” – I think it is more of a mindset of how you approach your work.

-What is your favorite aspect of the Indy Arts community?

Alyson: I’m constantly learning something new from this community, constantly exposed to a new concept or artist. Indy’s art world can seem small, but the opportunities are large.

Michelle: I feel it’s a very supportive community. We want each other to succeed. When the arts succeed in Indy we’re all better for it. So we turn out for each other, we challenge each other to be better, we work together. We make things, and we make things happen.

-What originally drew you to the Art Center?

Alyson: I applied for and received an internship opportunity in the Education department and shortly realized I loved being around people who were as excited about art as I was. I love the Art Center’s focus on providing access to art education for all people.

Michelle: In school I discovered I had a passion for connecting people with art. I was looking for a place where people could make art, see art, and talk about art with others. It wasn’t until a friend took me to visit the Art Center that I realized this place already existed, and it was much more than I could have even imagined. I love hearing our students’ stories and am inspired by the variety of reasons people have for taking classes here.

-How can people connect with you? 

We’re online at www.indplsartcenter.org, where you can find links to our current classes, exhibitions, and upcoming events. You can register for classes online, by phone, or in person at our Guest Services desk. When classes are in session, the Art Center is open Monday-Friday 9am-10pm, Saturday 9am-6pm, and Sunday noon-6pm; between semesters we close every day at 6. The building and grounds are always free and open to the public, and we love it when people just stop by! In fact, since we’re along the Monon Trail, we often get casual visitors who just stop in for a moment during their workout or weekend stroll. If you want to plan your visit, though, check out what’s happening by going to our website or checking our Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram pages.

Michelle Winkelman has a Bachelor’s degree in Studio Art from Lake Forest College. She discovered the Art Center after moving to Indianapolis in 2006. Since then she has held a variety of positions at the Art Center, including managing their ArtReach program. From 2011-2015 she served as Director of Outreach, and now is the Director of Education and Outreach, overseeing programs for over 5,000 students annually.

Alyson Walbridge graduated in 2015 from Ball State University with a degree in Art History. She has a passion for audience engagement and connecting people to all kinds of art, whether on the wall, in the studio – or at the Hatch! She is the New Audiences Programs Manager at the Art Center, managing their Pop-Up programs, Access Art (their tuition assistance program) and a variety of other activities that introduce people to art education and the Art Center.

Stop by the Art Center itself to learn more and meet these lovely ladies, or just stop by The Hatch and take a brain break for a few moment’s creativity. A $3 donation to the Art Center is encouraged for everyone participating in the Art Bar. Cash and card are accepted.