#and who can help with me using idioms that are one word off

[sagetsukimura]

Finished the chapter outline for my first multi-chapter fic, and realized I need a beta who is actually in the fandom at some point, and have no idea how to find one, this is what happens when u are a lurker. Anyone have advice for finding a decent beta in the final fantasy VII fandom?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Emotions (Anger)

Anger manifests differently in different people. But here are a few notes to help with writing when your characters feel and/or show anger.

Angry: Other Words to Use

HIGH furious, raging, irate, hateful, incensed, hostile, outraged, indignant, exasperated MODERATE aggravated, irritated, irked, upset, annoyed, offended, sulky, ticked off, fuming, sullen, provoked LOW perturbed, hassled, bothered, fuss, fret, displeased, peeved

Signs of Anger

Eyebrows may be lowered and pulled closer together

Eyelids may become squinted or raised (or the eyes may bulge if they are enraged)

Lips may tighten or curl inwards

The corners of the mouth may point downwards

The jaw may be tense and might jut forward slightly

Vertical wrinkles may appear between the eyebrows

The nostrils may flare outwards

Increased heart rate

Sweating

Trembling

Rapid breathing

Flushed face

Restless movements

Anger: Some Quotes

When anger rises, think of the consequences. (Confucius)

The best answer to anger is silence. (German Proverb)

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. (Buddha)

Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean. (Maya Angelou)

The best fighter is never angry. (Lao Tzu)

Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change. (Malcolm X)

Anger is just anger. It isn't good. It isn't bad. It just is. What you do with it is what matters. It's like anything else. You can use it to build or to destroy. You just have to make the choice. (Jim Butcher)

Anger at lies lasts forever. Anger at truth can't last. (Greg Evans)

Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor. (Elizabeth I)

Anger is a brief madness. (Horace)

Anger: Phrases & Idioms

Nurse a Grudge Against Someone

Throw a Fit

Dish It Out

Have a Bone to Pick

Have a Chip on One’s Shoulder

Grit One's Teeth

Have a Low Boiling Point

Let Off or Blow off Steam

Sources: 1 2 3 4

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

[hyenaa-euphoria]

I hhave three questions, if I may!

Does DogDay in the red giant au like, attack anything that is alive/that moves, or not? Like, if someone where to give him food would he attack them or?? Sorry if this question is dumb lol

This sorta plays into the third question, but do you have any tips on how to draw the smiling critters?

Do you have any tips making a smiling critter oc? I'm really struggling with coming up for a design for my one, she always ends up lookin plain/boring :(

HELLOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

1 sort of…..???

He would rather snatch the food from your hand and forget about you than actually try to go after you!! It’s easy food after all!

And even if he did try attacking you, he can’t really so much, he has no strength left!

2 JUST ONE BUT YES

TEAR. BODIES.

thats literally it. tear bodies. that how you can construct their bodies.. Play with that! Make different poses!

3 Of course! Here are some tips!!

NAMES-

Soo, i usually base my ocs on animal idioms, animal expressions, adjectives, etc. Here are some examples with meanings!!

Loan Shark

Moneylender who asks for a lot of money, usually illegally.

CashCow

Someone who makes a lot of money from a company

BusyBee

Someone who keeps themselves busy

KittyCorner

Diagonally opposite from someone or something

Sitting Duck(s)

Someone thats easy to manipulate, cheat or take advantage of

EagerBeaver

Someone who works very hard and enthusiastically

WholeHog

Do something to its fullest extent

GuineaPig

Person used as a subject for an experiment

Wild Goose (Chase)

Foolish chase for something unattainable

BlackSheep

Person who embarrasses a group for being different

One-Trick-Pony

Person with one great talent but doesn’t have much more to offer

Road Hog

Dangerous driver, someone who drives recklessly

TopDog

The most important person in a group

You can also take normal expressions that have certain words that sound like animal species! Take my oc as an example (Sir Bat-An-Eye.)

COLORS-

IF you are basing your little critter on a real animal, you could think, “Man, how do i make this little guy look more Smiling Critter-ish?”

COLORS!!

Take Bubba for example,

He is an elephant! Elephants aren’t a bright blinding blue! Yet in a lot of cartoons they are represented this way because it is way more colorful! Sure to attract kids.

If it is an actual animal, search for some cartoon references of them! Maybe that can help!

Saturate the colors A LOT. Do you think kiddies would like an old, rusty, sad-beige-mom animal in their show??!?! Well- maybe…..🤔

But thats not the point! Make them bright! Make them pop!

Also, don’t always base them off of the animals ACTUAL colors! Give them different colors! If you want to make your alligator oc red because he lives in the depths of an erupting volcano then go ahead! If you want your parrot oc to be THE COLOR OF THE FUCKING RAINBOW then go ahead!! Who says they have to be the normal colors? Not me!

PERSONALITY AND ANIMAL CHOOSING-

Sooo… if you wanna be very picky like me.. then choose animals by how they would act in a society!

A hyena wouldn’t be nice! They would make fun of people, they would be rude!

A gazelle would be shy! They wouldn’t get their kicks from fighting!

That kinda what i mean🤔

If you want an elegant Critter, look for animals that often represent elegance, like peacocks!!

WHAT THEY DO.

What would they do if they were caretakers in PlayCare? A therapist? A janitor? What do they teach? Think about that and maybe that will help you with their necklaces!!

If you need more help, ask away :p!!

[sol-consort]

There’s a note from a turian somewhere on Elaaden written by a turian saying the human he’s with was gonna “butter up” the other human and the turian was just confused by what dairy products had to do with this new girl they were letting in the group and it got me thinking omg we have so many metaphors and phrases and and figures of speech and idioms and slang terms. Lorik Qui’in loved human phrases but we only hear a few from him.

“Hold your horses!” What horses? I don’t have horses? What even is a horse?

“Oh im just a little under the weather today.” We’re on a ship, what are you talking about?

God(s)/spirits/enkindlers help the alien who hears the phrase “don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

And then whatever new age slang the young humans create that make everyone wonder if their translators are broken

Yes! I especially love the detail in ME1 of turians obsessing over human idoms. In multiple scenes, you talk with a turian who quotes a figure of speech he's been rehearsing for days and waiting for the right opportunity to unleash it.

Even the turian councillor does it! How he looks so proud after telling the idom, following it by "as you humans say"

Pop culture and slang change drastically throughout the years. Sometimes, it only takes a couple months for a new phrase to spread like wildfire. Weirdly, the turians seem to be as equally confused by it as they are intrigued and want to be "in with the joke" and all.

"Cunt" Yeah makes sense for an insult, we prefer quad but uh sure.

"Cunty" What do you mean that's a compliment?? Wasn't it just an insult a second ago, how does making it an adjective change the meaning—

"Break a leg!" No! what no. why would I? It's just a job interview. Hopefully, I won't break any legs, be it mine or others.

"Cool as a cucumber" What the fuck are cucumbers.

"Don't cry over spilt milk" ???okay. I wasn't planning to. that will just get sticky, mop it up.

"Hit two birds with one stone." Why do you want me to go throw rocks at birds exactly?

"Rain cats and dogs." You're just making things up because how is that supposed to translate into bad weather? Why the vivid image?

"That's the last straw." ...okay? Then get more straws. I can run to the store and grab a bunch for you. A whole 50 pack goes for 5 credits these days.

"Butterflies in my stomach." See a doctor immediately, please! This isn't normal. Or never mind, your freaky digestive system could probably handle them.

"Fish out of water." Well, put it back.

"Get something off your chest." I...uh..I'm flattered human, but I'm not stripping my armour off in the middle of the street. We should get to know each other better first.

"Barking up the wrong tree." Humans...bark at trees? That's informative. Is it a bonding activity? Are you inviting me to go bark at trees?

"Not my cup of tea." Well, yeah, I'm not a cup of tea, so about this date you asked me on, do any trees work, or are there specific bark only ones.

"Cold feet." Now that you mention it, I have been eyeing this armour with internal heating for a while.

"Call it a day." Yeah. that's what it's called. That's the word we use for a day. What else would you call it?

"Wrap your head around it." That is physically impossible.

[coolingrosa]

Sorry for the onslaught of questions, but could you tell me how you learned to write so beautifully? Like the complexities of characters' emotions, how you describe things, tips to improve vocab, some good book recommendations, the way u use idioms and sayings so perfectly and just everything else you do? Ur writing is just so good that it actually makes me feel things 😭😭 I need to become like youuu

This is a very heavy duty question and I’ll try my absolute hardest to answer this!

First things first, I do want to clarify that if you’re asking about the writing of chapter one, I want to make a note that a lot of the flowing text and descriptions was written by my co-writer- BarnacleGirl. We have a system where I write the rough draft, and dialogue, then hand it over to her to polish and add on some additions. However, that has not been done for chapters 2, 3 and the prologue. Those three mediums have not been touched by her writing and is simply mine. So if you’re specifically wondering about the details in chapter one, send in another ask directed at her and I’ll get her to answer it for you!

If you have the right idea and meant to send it for the whole fic, I’ll continue!

Character writing hasn’t always been my best work in the past. Nobody starts off writing complex characters with compelling morals until they grow a bit and experience a lot of life. What really taught me how to write was putting myself into each character and making them human. I give my characters the bad parts of myself- the good parts- parts that my friends see and that I don’t. Situations I’ve gone through are sprinkled through my writing and the emotions written on the pages is real because it’s taken from a real person.

This isn’t me saying that if you haven’t gone through hardships, or put yourself into characters, you’ll make flat ones. However, making human characters comes with human qualities- even bad ones.

Killer isn’t a good person.

He’s not. He just isn’t. He’s one of the main characters for the story and sympathized with but with his actions he’s not considered a good person.

But guess what? Dream isn’t a good one either. Nobody is.

Because the idea of good and bad people is an unreachable concept that we as human beings can’t follow. Everyone is going to mess up and hurt somebody on accident- maybe even on purpose. And in return- you’ll deal with hardships and heartbreak too. And the people you hurt or are hurt by will all see you in different lights. You’ll be a good person to many and a bad person to equally as much. So declaring a character a overall good or bad person doesn’t carry the same weight as real life dynamics.

Erasing the idea that characters have an archetype of good and bad really helped me make good characters and kept me out of my box. You can have characters who are horrible to some people but kind to others- characters who love very hard but show it terribly. But that’s what makes these individuals people. The bad traits and the mix of good create who they are. Their good actions and bad actions have to make sense for what they are thinking. Nobody is born evil. People become evil and even your most horrifically evil characters still have to have human traits remaining inside to make them one.

When I get an idea of a character and their vibes, diving into their emotions becomes easy because I can better envision myself in their place. Sometimes this can get emotional, but building that connection with your characters can really help you type out their thoughts and feelings like second nature. I advise you to use a lot of drowning and fire metaphors for emotions- as a rush of cold and heat is the two most common sensations when someone is feeling a strong emotion.

Tips for vocabulary: use a thesaurus LMAOOO

I’m SO bad at vocabulary. I don’t know what so many words mean and I constantly have to find replacement words for some of my text so don’t worry if ur ashamed about doing that- I do it all the time. My favorite thesaurus is word hippo, as it has so many different variations.

I unfortunately don’t have any book recommendations as I haven’t read a lot recently- but my writing style right now is heavily based on on the book All the Light we Cannot See. I’m not a huge fan of the book, but the writing style in it is impeccable and totally influenced my writing when I read it in sophomore year. Roseverse was also directly inspired by For the Forgotten Ones on ao3 and while it didn’t inspire me writing style wise, it did motivate a lot of my world building.

I also really appreciate you liking my work- it makes me really happy! However, there’s no need to become exactly like me in writing, as writing styles are just as complex and different as art styles. How you write is unique to you, and a statement of what you bring to the table. There’s beauty in that. Never be ashamed of your own writing style or skills. Keep wanting to improve, of course, but keep your love for writing centered around what you can make with YOUR hands. Because someday, your personal writing style and art may amaze another person out there who will want to write just like you.

You’re capable of amazement. Never forget that.

[falloutjuli]

OHHH BOYYYY OKAY. HEAR ME OUT RIGHT. HEAR ME OUT.

BUCCI GANG WITH G/N!Y/N (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC IDM <3) WHO IS AN ALIEN (Like from part 4) WHO'S LIKE PRETTY WELL ACCUSTOMED TO EARTH BUT ALSO. TENDS TO SHAPESHIFT INTO ANIMALS ACCIDENTLY WHEN THEY FEEL AN EXTREME EMOTION!!

like pissed at narancia because he broke their favourite cd? OHHHH BOY ITS A FUCKING CHIHUAHUA

Otherwise, have a lovely day and hopefully you've got some good requests to keep you busy, i know what it's like to be painstakingly bored lmao. if you don't feel like writing this one tho, that's fine :)

DRINK SOME WATER BTW. JUST. JUST A SIP. LIKE. A LITTLE SCHLURP.

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME THINK ABOUT THIS!!

And thank you so much for your kind words, always means a lot! Drinking water as I'm writing this. And now other people who read this... DRINK SOMETHING. NOW.

Anyways, i think it's on the more platonic side, but i think it can also be interpreted as romantic. Hope you enjoy my little writing!

Same content warning as before, typed on phone by an unhinged person 😎

-------

Bucci Gang x Alien!GN!Reader - Shapeshifting adventures

-------

The boys and Trish are pretty used to your sometimes weird antics but when they bit by bit discovered the shape shifting? OH BOY.

They were all used to you messing up small things that were normal to them, like teaching you idioms and stuff. But this? This is a whole new level of crazy.

First. The Narancia incident.

It's Narancia, so he pretended to know nothing about no CD. Especially not broken ones he helped pick out. No no, he knows nothing about this, never even heard of CDs.

But you know him and his bullshit so you keep nagging him about it, getting agitated by his constant lies.

And just when you wanted to full on speak your mind to him, poof. Bark.

He stares at a little Chihuahua where just Y/N stood that looked like it was ready to bite him.

Once everything in his brain clicks, he laughs his ass off. Tears in his eyes, his laughter filling all of the house, eventually drawing in Abbachio who just wants some piece and quite and now has to deal with Narancia crying/laughing on the floor and a.... Chihuahua angrily barking at him.

It took a while until Abbachio got answers out of the younger one and once everything was explained (well, everything despite what happened to the CD) he went off to get the rest of the gang, trying to contain his laughter on the way.

So everyone was informed then. Fugo and Giorno were super interested in this newfound quirk you discovered, Bruno and Trish were worried at first but once they saw that you had suffered no harm or were stuck in the form their worries subsided. Abbachio found it a little funny but was also glad you were alright.

Meanwhile to Mista and Narancia it's the funniest shit they have ever seen. They keep referencing it. "Ohhh Mista, don't steal their desert or they might turn into a puppy again!"

Those two are true idiots and once they pushed you a little too far and you accidentally turned into a grizzly bear, they finally stopped. For while.

Bruno had that worry again. He wasn't sure if you could maybe hurt yourself or them if this kept happening but you kept assuring him that's you'd never. It's just the form that changes, never the Y/N inside of the form.

Trish and Giorno are super kind to you as always and would barely ever push you into such extrem emotions to the point of accidentally shifting.

Abbachio and Bruno will always look out for you and will tell the others to stop bothering you/calm you down if they deem it necessary. They are never pushy about it, especially not Abbachio.

Fugo is... Certainly something. You're sure if he too was from your planet he'd be a walking zoo with how easily angered he is. You two spoke about that once and Fugo never felt happier to be from Earth.

While Mista and Narancia can certainly drive you up the walls, they also know when it's too much and after you turning into a bear, they decided they would stop trying to set you off on purpose. (Especially since Narancia brought up the possibility of you turning into a dinosaur. Which they deemed cool. But scary.)

This doesn't mean they will stop bickering with you over tiny things.

Mista also called you once a "Discount Giorno." Nobody found it funny and Giorno was tempted to transform his newly bought shoes with Golden Experience but decided against it.

[karasbroken]

I've decided that I want to post the sex shop AU in October so I'm trying to see how much I can finish by then. I'm at 13,000 words so that's about 2500 a week, a solid goal. I'm going to force myself to alternate with the next unfamiliar idiom, so this week you get spice.

I'm still feeling my way through how to make this interesting, so let me know if this is on track. This bit is still teen rated, though we're starting to get somewhere. John encounters Aeryn at The Leviathan while he's buying lingerie for Gilina. Chi has called Aeryn over to get her help showing John some handcuffs and Aeryn amuses herself ordering him around and giving him the hard sell. Still thinking she's a man in drag, he gets very confused about why he finds a dude manhandling him so hot when he's hella straight (uh huh).

John held up his hands, “I don’t think handcuffs are really my thing.”

Aaron gave him a look that John couldn’t interpret. It wasn’t mocking, more skeptical or curious. “Indulge me,” the man said, in a way that made it somehow impossible for John to continue to protest. He didn’t move as Aaron wrapped a wide, soft, black rleather cuff around his wrist. Holding John’s gaze with those deep gray eyes, the man didn’t seem to even be looking as he buckled the strap, firm, but not tight. “These are padded, and comfortable for long-term wear. Always ensure you can fit at least one finger between skin and cuff, and generally not more than two.” Aaron slipped one slim finger along the inside of John’s wrist, then wriggled a second into the cuff, until John could feel his own pulse against the man’s fingertips. “China, get a chain.”

The girl snapped upright immediately, and moved past them down the aisle. “Oh that’s okay,” John tried to protest, but Aaron had turned his fingers, still inside the cuff, and was pulling John’s hand closer.

“These come with several D-rings, which give you more options for attachment. The straps adjust pretty widely, so these can be used on wrists or ankles, on a wide variety of people. Make a fist.” Aaron withdrew his fingers just before John obeyed him, then tugged on the cuff, which was still able to move slightly. “This is top-grain leather, durable. If conditioner is used after extended sessions, these cuffs can last for years and they come with a ten year warranty against hardware failure.”

John felt like he should be saying something, but it was hard to interrupt the dom. Chi had come back with a chain powder-coated a navy blue, and capped with carabiners on both ends. She handed this to Aaron. “China,” the man said, without elaboration, but the girl instantly held up her own arm to be buckled into the matching cuff. “As you can see, they really do fit a range of sizes,” Aaron said, finally releasing John’s gaze to focus on buckling the girl into almost the smallest hole, checking the fit with a finger, then attaching the chain to a ring on each cuff. “And I think the act of fastening the buckles is much more sensuous than the handcuff style, don’t you?” Aaron looked up at John.

“Uh, I guess,” he mumbled, feeling that fuzzy feeling again even though the beers really should be wearing off. The click of the clip on the ring had stirred something John didn’t want to think about.

“Go ahead and pull, you’ll see the difference.”

John glanced with uncertainty over at China, who had dropped the feisty teenager act and was just watching him, a small smile on her pink-painted lips, her wrist held up so the chain swung freely between them. At John’s look she slowly pulled her hand toward her chest, motioning with her free hand for him to do the same.

“That’s okay,” he said, trying to wave the girl off.

But Aaron grabbed the middle of the chain and yanked both of them. “Pull.”

John yanked back, using enough force that he finally got Aaron to move, until the man braced himself. He had to admit, it didn’t hurt the way the plastic-- poly-carbon-- cuffs had. The pressure was firm, but not painful. “Yeah, that’s better,” he agreed, still quietly trying to get the dom off balance, but he stopped when Aaron jerked the chain again, tugging both of their arms closer.

“China, you can unbuckle yourself.” Aaron said. He was definitely using the domme voice, commanding, calm, and contralto. Chi did what he asked, unbuckling and handing the cuff to Aaron, who hadn’t released the chain still leashing John.

“Can I?” John asked, waggling his wrist. He was trying not to notice the small shocks down his spine every time the cuff tightened on his skin.

“Soon.” A sharp tug emphasized the curt word, bringing John’s attention back to Aaron’s face. The man had used the dominatrix voice again, which was disconcerting, especially when John was bound up so close to that confusingly beautiful face.

“Cuffs and chains are sold separately, so you can choose what fits your needs,” Aaron went on in a more neutral tone. “This is a good length to start with. You can move the carabiners to provide as much or as little slack between the cuffs as you want, or even clip them together. The clips can be used to secure the chain around a bedframe or bedpost, but use a towel in between to avoid damage to your furniture.” The dom demonstrated making a circle with the clip. “This is a little short for ankle restraint, but still enough room to have some fun.” He unclipped the chain completely, demonstrating the length, which was about eighteen inches. “You can unbuckle that now, John.”

John blinked at the use of his name. Apparently Aaron had remembered that too. He pulled on the strap, relieved to see that it came loose from the buckle easily. “Thanks for the demonstration,” he said as he started to hand the cuff back.

“My pleasure,” Aaron said, with the barest hint of a smile. “I really do recommend this set for anyone wanting to experiment. It’s versatile, high quality, and impossible to be trapped in, at least accidentally. But limit your use to half an hour or less until you and your partner are comfortable, to avoid injury or chafing.” Aaron took the cuffs back, clipping them, and then handed the set to Chi. “The black and navy looks good with that,” he said, nodding at the lingerie. “Chelsea, make sure John gets leather conditioner too.”

“Sure thing Aaron, thanks,” Chi said, head bobbing vigorously.

Before John could say anything, though, the confusing man was walking away down the aisle toward the exit.

“This way, I’ll ring you up,” the girl said, heading back toward the central counter, and snagging something from an end-cap on the way.

John followed along behind, once again not sure exactly what to make of his encounter with the dominatrix, but feeling on edge in every sense. Walking made him uncomfortably aware of just how easily the man affected him with his casual treatment of John’s body, and how quickly John forgot it was in fact a man handling him. It was just an act, but being on the receiving end of that much focus and control apparently did something to his balls, and John did not want to think about that too hard.

[worldsfromhoney]

A Home With You

Masterlist

cw: minor character death

They looked so lost that Caretaker couldn’t help but let his instincts take over and approach the poor fellow. Not in a stalker-kind of way but in a considerate stranger kind of way. At least, that’s what Caretaker hoped their concern would be taken as. They did not want a repeat of The Cracker Incident.

Steeling themself and taking an unnecessary deep breath, they tapped the lost-looking stranger on the shoulder.

Honestly, Caretaker half-expected to be jumped by something. Maybe an eagle or a hidden slithering reptile that had already sensed them before they decided to approach. Anything, really, that resembled a dæmon.

The stranger blinked at them, head slightly cocked to the side. “…Yes?”

Like an idiot, Caretaker blinked back and said, “…Yes?”

The stranger furrowed their brows. “What?”

For some reason this response irked Caretaker and made them want to frown and possibly scream incoherently because what?! They mentally checked themself over and confirmed that, yes, nothing had attacked them and that, yes, this stranger’s dæmon was nowhere in sight.

Caretaker, eloquent as ever, responded, “What?”

At this point, the stranger understandably frowns further and closes themselves off, arms crossing over their chest and still no sign of an agitated dæmon. There’s now a glare directed at Caretaker and they already knew, even without looking, that their dæmon was covering their eyes in embarrassment, paws ridding them of liability. Caretaker wished they could do that too. The stranger’s glare was something else.

Caretaker tried for a smile. It felt a bit crooked and their dæmon whined at their feet.

Yeah, I feel you buddy.

The stranger did not share the smile. Their fingers tapped incessantly in an impatient manner on their crossed arms, gaze conflicted between staying on Caretaker and on their nestled phone that showed—

Right. That’s why they approached this grumpy stranger in the first place.

Caretaker held up their hands placatingly, still smiling crookedly. “Hey, friend, no need to drill those eyes into me. I’m not going anywhere.”

The stranger’s face twisted into an expression seeming to say Caretaker should definitely go somewhere—preferably away. If their dæmon wasn’t too busy sharing his embarrassment, the hound would’ve been laughing at their expense by now. Ungrateful mutt.

Then the stranger started to turn and walk away and Caretaker panicked.

“You’re lost right?” They blurted out like marking the stranger as a witch in the Middle Ages. “I’m a local tour guide and you were a new face and looked lost so I thought, hey why not help out? But that obviously didn’t work out well and can you please ignore my laughing dæmon? Actually, you know what, I’ll just go—”

“Yes,” The stranger interrupted, their escape successfully thwarted. Caretaker took a moment to sigh in relief before the word registered and their mind went into overdrive again.

“Um, yes, like yes I’m lost? Or yes, please go? Or is it yes, I’m lost and I’d like a tour guide and you seem perfectly nice?”

The stranger’s lips twitched. They stepped forward and wow, Caretaker didn’t realise how tall the stranger was. They had to crane their head back to meet their eyes which were no longer glaring at them like they were about to cause another Cracker Incident.

“Yes,” The dæmon-less stranger said. “Just yes.”

Whumpee was a weird one but like the saying goes, birds who fly astray get together one way… or something like that. Caretaker really knew nothing much about sayings and idioms except those that had something to do with the history of his little town.

Whumpee’s brow rose. “So you’ve been here your whole life? Really? Not taken a single step outside?”

There was a mix of awe and sarcastic derision in their voice but Caretaker breezed through it, already used to such remarks. He was a well-known local tour guide for a reason and it wasn’t just because he’d been one who literally grew up in the place.

Still, he huffed and turned his nose up at Whumpee. “Why would I? This place is already an entire world in itself. You know, new things keep popping up and so do old things but in different forms. I could—and I have!—spend an entire life here and never get tired of the scenery. Just look around and actually see.”

It’s a spiel they’ve given time and time again whenever tourists ask them about their choice in work and that they could do better you know? Caretaker knew. But knowing differs from having the desire to ‘do better’ and they had none of that. Just like all the others, they expect Whumpee to shake their head and implore them to move on with the tour instead of droning on like a sappy poet.

They were wrong.

Again, like when no dæmon popped up to attack them, Whumpee acted out of the ordinary. They, well… they actually looked round them—at the cobblestone streets where people and vehicles mixed together, the water pumps at almost every street corner being played with by children who wanted to see mini-rainbows, and at the clamouring symphony of people from all walks of life coming and going giving ease to the heart.

Whumpee was actually looking and that’s when Caretaker knew he’d gotten the wrong impression.

“Oh, sorry,” They said, a bit sheepish. “Didn’t realise you were a local, too. I guess there are people I don’t know in this town.”

Of all things, Caretaker doesn’t expect the visible and almost violent flinch from Whumpee. They’d taken a step back, their hand immediately clutching at their chest as if protecting something precious. Whumpee’s eyes had steeled itself, the spark of nostalgia that’d once been there snuffed out.

And again, Caretaker… didn’t know what the hell they did. Was Whumpee, uh, insulted that they didn’t know them? But if so, then why pretend to be a lost tourist and agree to get taken round the town? Or maybe—

“…Have you just come back? Home, I mean?” Caretaker asked and no, they weren’t afraid of the still closed-off expression on Whumpee’s face. That’s ridiculous. “I mean, that’d explain why I haven’t seen you… wait, you don’t look a day older than me! Then you must’ve left way young—”

“It wasn’t,” Whumpee interrupted. “Home, that is. Don’t misunderstand.”

“Well,” Caretaker said after a beat and with a laugh because wow this was very uncomfortable. “Too late for that, I think. Hard not to when you’re all being dark, tall, and handso—uh, mysterious.”

At this, Whumpee finally showed a semblance of emotion and huffed, close to rolling their eyes. Caretaker could tell. A lot of tourists were like that with them.

“As if you haven’t been intrusive with all your questions the entire time, brat,” They muttered loud enough for Caretaker but not for anyone else around. They were still in the bustling part of town after all. This ‘tour’ had started when the sun was barely in the sky and it was still high up above them now, probably mocking Caretaker by moving ever so slowly to the west.

If they were a little more insane, they would’ve thought the sun was a sentient being like dæmons were and liked to piss on them.

Their hound began to whinge. Great. Speak of the devil.

Caretaker sighs and, not for the first time in their career, pulls Whumpee along to follow after the unfortunate patch of grass their dæmon wanted to poison with their unholy piss. Okay, they were exaggerating—it was only kind of unholy.

The place Caretaker’s dæmon went to this time round was an empty lot in the far north of the town, closer to the surrounding forests than it is to civilisation. On the way, there weren’t much houses or buildings to be seen. Maybe a ranch and some several mills about but not many people wanted to live in this part of town.

Even Caretaker, kind of certified local guide, didn’t know exactly why that is. He had a feeling though, after voicing out this brief history to Whumpee, that this local-but-not-local stranger, knew something.

That feeling may or may not have something to do with how Whumpee kept going pale the more they followed after Caretaker’s hound dæmon, their hands clenched into fists, and breathing starting to get fast and loud. Caretaker had honestly expected Whumpee to make a run for it but they should’ve known their expectations were bound to fail again. It was just one of those days and one of those people.

Eventually the hound stopped and so did Caretaker. They weren’t interested being near anywhere where their dæmon wanted to piss.

Whumpee kept on.

“Oi—hey!” Caretaker shouted after them. “This is someone’s property, you know! No trespassing!”

Except for dæmons picky about their peeing stations. Caretaker didn’t say it because duh but even if they did, they didn’t think Whumpee would care either way. There was a sort of increasing frenzy in their approach and a… familiarity? Whumpee wove through the wild grass as if they knew where the old steps still were—as if treading a path they’ve taken too many times to forget even if they wanted to.

They stopped and the words of reprimand and caution died in Caretaker’s throat. Whumpee hadn’t gone far past the property line so Caretaker could still see them and an inexplicable expression no person should wear in such a beautiful place as this. They shouldn’t be looking at a random patch of grass with so much pain that it hurt Caretaker to keep looking. But they did, anyway. They had to because this was their charge for the day and this wouldn’t’ve happened if it wasn’t for their dæmon.

Caretaker took a step forward, already lamenting the trouble they’ll get into for trespassing, and Whumpee finally spoke.

“It’s mine,” They said. “The property, I mean. So it’s not trespassing.”

Whumpee moved further into the empty, overgrown lot, their previous frenzy all but lost. Now, they moved like a spectre—not quite a ghost but more of a spirit that’d found itself tethered once again after experiencing the falseness of freedom. They pointed at some rubble.

“This was a house once,” Whumpee said. Caretaker catches the sardonic smile on their face and wonders and wonders. “A group of people lived here with their dæmons. Just like any other house.”

House. Not ‘home.’ A group of people. Not ‘family.’ Caretaker would’ve found the differing word use amusing if there wasn’t this ghost-like grip of silence round their throat and lungs, stopping them from breathing—from doing anything that’d disturb… whatever this is. They simply took another step and kept on going through the tall grass, rocks, and uneven dirt towards Whumpee. For some reason, they really, really needed to reach this weird stranger.

What they’d do once they’d reach Whumpee was a mystery. Maybe give them a good shake out of this self-induced reverie and continue on their tour because Caretaker still had something called a job.

They almost tripped on a root and sighed. “Look, mate. While I love history lessons, this place ain’t really the place for it and I should be the one giving lessons not my not-so-tourist local guy, right? Now let’s just—“

Caretaker stumbled on something again and they would’ve sworn up a storm if it wasn’t for what they saw.

There, at their feet, was the obvious carcass of a dæmon.

Their head immediately snapped up to look for his dæmon who was definitely alive and kicking and not dead not dead not—

A shadow cast over the carcass. It was Whumpee and they didn’t look surprised.

“Oh,” They simply said. “You found her.”

Caretaker would’ve chosen that moment to finally exclaim a big what the fuck if it hadn’t been for the shaking. They would’ve crossed off this day as a bad one and gone back to proper civilisation if it isn’t for how Whumpee’s fingers trembled as they reached for the carcass.

Dæmons never truly died. Even if this carcass had remained undiscovered for ten, thirty more years, it wouldn’t decompose. Not till its owner would breathe their last and finally join them—

Oh.

“Oh,” Caretaker said, breath shaky. “Oh fuck.”

And Whumpee manages a laugh before they sink to their knees and Caretaker’s there at their side. It’s awkward for a second but when a sob escapes Whumpee, Caretaker’s arm is already around this weird mourning stranger, words of comfort rushing from them as natural as breathing would be. They stay that way through everything—through Whumpee’s account of their abusive guardians (they don’t like referring to them as their parents) who never wanted to stop, through the manifestation of Whumpee’s dæmon and the abuse it suffered alongside them, and through their escape made at the expense of its loyal life.

Caretaker stays as a shoulder to cry on and a pillar to hold up this stranger who was close to coming back just to die. They stay and mourn with Whumpee who had never asked but didn’t need to.

Taglist

@wildthingsandmagic @starbuds-and-rosedust @alexsidereus @adorable-bookworm @th3-scr3ens-ar3-watching

[sumerianlanguage]

Silim!

I’m so glad I stumbled on your blog, it’s fun and useful. You translating people’s names is oddly entertaining so I hope you keep doing it.

Thanks for the online dictionary you recommended, it’s been super helpful. Thanks to that, I only have a few questions for discount double-checking. Because you were right that it isn’t the easiest to use as you can see below by the “or” and “/” I added. I’m unsure why the same word has slightly different meanings.

I believe (could be mistaken) that I’ve seen a post from you about Sumerian idioms? One being “saghul” which is “good and bad” similar to the English idiom “mixed blessing”. If that is correct, could I add “lu” to it to be “lusaghul” so it would mean a person/people who is/are a mixed blessing? If not, what is the correct way to do that?

Aguba “a cultic vessel for water” or “holy water”

Nu “not”

Lu “person” or “people”

Immen “thirsty”

So if I wanted to say “not holy water/not a cultic vessel of water, a thirsty person” would it be “nuaguba luimmen” or luimmen nuaguba” or am I way off track?

Thanks in advance!

I hope your vacation was great :D

Silim, and thank you for the very kind words!

I’ve done a couple posts referencing Sumerian idioms, but I can’t find a post referencing saghul (maybe it’s somewhere in the depths of my blog - oh, unsearchable tumblr!) Saghul is a great word, meaning “both good and bad”, and it’s an adjective, so lusaghul would definitely be “person who is good and bad”.

For your second question, I think your vocab is correct, but your approach to the sentence is a little un-Sumerian. The most natural way to do this contrast would be to make each phrase into a clause - “it’s not holy water, it’s a thirsty person”. Sumerian phraseology centers strongly on the verb, and it’s crucial for giving anything complex meaning.

I also wanna talk briefly about nu. Nu “not” can operate as either an adverb, coming before an adjective (sag “good”, nusag “not good”), as a verb prefix negating the verb (akan “I take action”, nuakan “I don’t take action”), or as its own verb, a parallel to me “to be”, meaning “isn’t”. So agubanu would be “it isn’t holy water”/“it isn’t a cultic vessel”. What it doesn’t do is attach before a noun, so nuaguba doesn’t mean anything*.

Immen or enmen can mean “thirsty”, “thirst” or “to be thirsty”. To say “it is a thirsty person” it would be luimmenam, with -am “he/she/it is” being the positive equivalent to negative -nu. So altogether I would say agubanu, luimmenam “it isn’t holy water, it is a thirsty person”.

Of course, if you wanted to use a different verb, that would probably restructure the whole sentence. So feel free to reblog with additional context and I’ll help narrow down the translation!

* Well, technically you could reinterpret aguba as an adjective or build it off the adjective nua “infertile (of animals)”, so -nua-guba would be something like “infertile and purified”.

[fullofsunsetwhispers]

Hi! I love your blog, thank you so much for keeping the fandom alive, i just joined this year!

I want to ask you if you think Omi has reading disability, dyslexia? I want to hear what other people the the fandom think. Cause it feels like he has, and to me all four of the monks have ADHD, they just fit the charts.

Hello there! Oh my gosh, thank you for such nice words! Well, I’m here to infodump and throw ideas here and there sometimes with additional drawings, so knowing some folks pay attention to it makes me really glad and it encourages me to post more.

As for your question, usually, I’m not into coming up with disabilities’ headcanons mostly because of my fear that I can get something wrong. However, since you come to me with such a request I’ll try my best to present my outlook on the matter. I may be oblivious to some things so anybody who reads this post – please correct me if something may sound disrespectful/ improper/ or simply wrong from the scientific point of view.

If that’s cleared up, let’s move on to Omi’s dyslexia. Ok, I see your point – cheeseball surely shows some tendencies that may be attributable to such a condition. The most notable one is present in every episode, that is Omi’s failed slang. When someone corrects his mistakes his reactions vary from acknowledging it was something ‘off’ with the word choice/order or simply he refuses to accept the correction, brushing the issue off by telling the others ‘that makes no sense’.

The most troublesome thing in assessing whether it’s a case of dyslexia is the fact we don’t know how advanced Omi is in his native language.

But my assumption is - he has already accomplished fluency in Chinese. He can read and understand what is written and he can talk about it without making mistakes. The additional issue is that monks most probably communicate with each other in English so Omi has to translate the contents of the scroll to his friends.

To my understanding, a dyslectic person has problems in:

dividing words into syllables

spelling

phonetics (they can't differentiate similar sounds, hence the word they want to pronounce may turn out to be a word with a different meaning)

there may occur an evident overactivity, speech defects, writing words in reverse, no ability to apply interpunction rules in writing

there may occur some neurologic problems such as memory loss, and dysfunctional space orientation( for example confusing the left side with the right). Sometimes the easiest puzzle game can't be completed.

and the matter of our discussion: inability to understand idioms. We may also include the inability to understand jokes, math, and reading a-loud.

So, it seems as if only overactivity and inability to understand idioms track in Omi's case. I can also add confusing lefts and rights and directions whatsoever but as far as I can remember Omi can tell lefts and rights in battle. Only when he uses directional words in a conversation, he utters something like 'upside up' 'I won't let you up' etc. As a consequence, we can assume Omi can't grasp the metaphoric and idiomatic meanings, but I would not take that for granted either. Because we have Master Fung's sayings, Chase's riddles and not to mention that official language presented in old scrolls and... aren't they metaphorical to some extent too???? And on top of that Omi proved he can say a lot of puns to their enemies to mock them.

Y'know, I'm no expert but the fact there is so little evidence in the show isn't helping either. It's a cartoon - rather old cartoon and who would have thought about proper representation back then?

This analysis can't go further until I tackle the issue of dyslexia and bilingualism. In one source, it is said if the child is dyslectic it is almost certain it would show these symptoms also in learning L2. However, the other source states bilingualism enhances many abilities such as problem-solving as well as the capacity to analyze different aspects of language (a skill that is needed for reading and writing). And tbh if Omi has dyslexia this clearly applies to him. Because I get the impression he's also fluent in English and he figured out the rules quite successfully (apart from idioms and some phrases, of course).

I've made a list of Omi's mix-ups.

I smell bad = stink

in your head = in your face

it’ll be cold, dude → Kimiko says ‘cool’

rutted timing = rotten timing

remove the led = get the lead out

push your arm = i’m pulling your leg

piece of pie = piece of cake

skating = surfing the Net

obtain game = you’ve got game

peace on = peace out – saying goodbye

check me in my friend – check me out

dilly our dallies – dilly dally

it’s time we get to the top of this – (the bottom of this)

but you’re going up – he means you’re going down (you must be defeated)

event turning - turn of events

do we look as if we were born next week? - last week

I’m in heat – No Omi you’re on fire!!!

I’m very much top-tip – correct – tip-top

I won’t let you up = I won’t let you down

Jermaine: You must be tripping! Omi: I’m not taking a trip!

I order you to spill your internal organs – spill your guts

The luck is spitting on us = the luck is shining on us

blond leading the blonde = blind leading the blind

we punish their watches = clean their clocks

you’re gonna chew on that sentence =you’re gonna eat those words

Oh that thing is very icy – very cool

spoon over the wu = fork over the wu

The majority of mistakes are the result of Omi confusing English phonemes OR he uses synonyms to compensate for a lack of the appropriate word. However, what is interesting, is his word choice in several instances relies more on imagery and association. For example, in 'The luck is spitting on us' Omi associated shining with the way light can cover all of our bodies, just like the spit. 'the thing is very icy or heat-fire? - the same elements that remind Omi of the feeling of coldness or warmth but used in a more metaphorical sense. My boy may have made a mistake but he was close anyway. Spoon instead of the fork? They are both kitchen appliances. Tripping and trip? Almost the same words but with the -ing ending so in this instance Omi couldn't recognize the category of the word (verb vs noun). What I'm trying to say, Omi has developed a certain pattern that only he can understand to make his communication slightly better and I'm proud of these attempts.

So, I totally agree with flycotte these speech patterns are connected with dyslexia. Omi mixes the phonemes (rutted vs rotten or blond vs blind), and confuses the order of elements in phrases. The top for him is the bottom, so he also confuses directions, and sometimes he adds to the words wrong prepositions.

But you know? he makes those mistakes IN ENGLISH. Omi is quite young, so what if these errors arise because he can't accustom to L2 yet? I've read somewhere that for Chinese speakers English is difficult to learn. You have to switch from the pictorial alphabet to the English one. Reading problems in L2 acquisition arise due to inability to match sounds to letters accurately. If you're Chinese and want to learn English you have to develop an entirely new sound-letter mapping. Omi is rather a fast learner but what I admire about him is his dedication to learning and I hc he would practice writing in English for hours. I really like the last sentence from that article because it sums up Omi's approach to being understood by others

'You don’t need to have perfect grammar in order to communicate. In the beginning, making yourself understood is what counts.'

In Omi's case, he mastered the grammar but slang and minimal pairs are yet to be learned. Taking into account English isn't his first language, he's doing good.

On another note, I do believe Omi's failed slang is to some extent attributable to that there are no Chinese equivalents of these phrases/sayings. Or Omi has never learned the Chinese slang expressions because of the fact before meeting with Raimundo, Clay and Kimiko he has never left the temple? Considering how Master Fung speaks in a formal manner along with Master Monk Guan, you kind of see where Omi picked it up from soooo maybe Omi overuses English Slang expressions to appear more knowledgeable (and impress) his friends!

The last thing I wanted to analyze is his handwriting. He wrote one and only letter in the show so let's focus on that.

As you can see, Omi isn't confident enough with lowercase letters. He prefers to write in uppercase, in some places he's not sure how to divide words, and sometimes letters are too close to each other. More drastic errors are the lack of the pronoun (I think 'I must leave would be more correct) and that weird line that is supposed to replace 'R' in some words (orderR and futuRe). Omi also forgot about the letter 'i' in 'friends'. Overall, Omi tries to remain punctuation but my little dude could've made a couple of shorter sentences instead of one long one.

This piece of writing could belong to a dyslexic child but I wonder if I saw the same message in Chinese (and most importantly knew Chinese) and compared it with the letter written in English, would there be the same amount of mistakes?

So, yeah I would rather opt for the possibility ‘Omi isn’t dyslexic. He’s in a process of learning English and his errors are failed attempts to recreate a more ‘lively, casual’ type of speech.’ However, there are, in fact, many hints he might be dyslectic as well. In fact, it's a matter of his motivation and the guidance of his fellow monk friends whether he manages to eliminate these speech/writing habits. The results of his efforts will all be revealed in Omi's adulthood but since there won't be any XS continuation with the main cast as adults we can only speculate.

To wrap things up, Omi is one determined fella who tries his best. Dyslectic or not, he takes learning very seriously so I do believe he will keep on improving his English in the same way he's fixated on improving himself as a warrior regardless of his disability. In fact, that would hype him up even more to be better at expressing himself.

[angelicheather44]

"ROOTS" Author- Heather Climer

What do you think of when you hear the word roots? Do you ever feel rootless?

This word has many meanings and significance in various contexts. Let's look at a couple of examples. "The root causes" of worldly issues. In spirituality "to root out evil". So, it Let's us know not only about our ancestors but ourselves. Let's look at an example of botanical roots and their significance. Roots are normally the source of nourishment for nature, sourcing our plants and trees while promoting growth as they grow stronger. Roots help trees to communicate with one another, join together with fungal filaments to create a pathway of exchange of nutrients to encourage the other if it's under the weather. We as people need roots to feel mentally and physically nourished. We all would like to rely on a network or group of people when we feel the need to communicate and share.

The roots of this tree triggered a line of thinking that we all need roots. We all have roots. God said people need people like the sunflower needs another sunflower. Roots keep us grounded. People who tend to isolate, who are introverted, natural loner, or who are lonely have times where they want to be seen and heard. The tree can't uproot itself and move, however, we are blessed people who have the ability to take our roots with us wherever we go. Perhaps roots not only keep us grounded, humbled, nourished, but also spiritually bring us together and teach us to not take anyone for granted, give mutual respect, give compassion, and love. We all often want to feel like we have a strong sense of purpose that gives us passions to create something special for humanity.

Raising our self-awareness is the consciousness of our state of being just as the tree amputated its roots is very much aware of its state of being.

Roots mean original, true home, environment, culture, apart of a body of a plant, a similar organ developed from some other plant to fix by or as if by roots, to implant or establish deeply, and through digital technology. Look at idioms about "root". Root and branch, utterly and entirely take root to send out to begin to grow to become established. Look at all the other words for the word "root": base, foundation, beginning, rise, fount, fountainhead, spring, wellspring, derivation, originator, parent, progenitor, ancestors, forebear, forefathers, eradicate, eliminate, wipeout, and obliterate. What a powerful word "root" is.

God can send you people who are like roots of a tree. Thier only job is to hold you up, encourage you, and help you be strong and healthy. When they see you happy it makes them happy. We can use the word "roots" in a metaphor of trees to describe the quality of friendships. I learned that and/or found out that some people I thought were for me fell by the waste side or wasn't who I thought they were and it hasn't been easy to evaluate the role or contribution I personally played in all of it. I love this tree analogy with people in my life. Leaf people are the people who come into your life for a season. You can't depend on leaf people nor count on them because they just give you shade. Branch people are the people who come into your life and you have to be careful with them because even though they can withstand the seasons, however, they can get lost in the storms. Root people come into your life and ground themselves staying low key, quiet, and show you that good people with good intentions still exists, true friends, and they are for you.

"Spiritual roots" For our hearts to grow we need emotional and spiritual nourishment. There are five roots of the heart which are feelings, needs, desire, longings, and hope. To help us identify what is happening in our hearts we can see these feelings as beginnings of the expressions off human emotional experiences. Hurt, lonely, sad, anger, fear, shame, guilt, and joy. Then we take those words and expand to express awe, grief, envy, anxiousness, depression, revenge, delight, and boredom. The more we feel the more we will need and the more we understand what we want and need comes our desires and as we get closer to God he will give you the desires of your heart. He gives us a new heart and mind which gives us new desires. Longings are souls wishes that want fulfillment which seeks hope. In scripture root generally appears indicating source as when the unrighteous are as a root bearing bitter and poisonous fruit or when the money is described as the root of all evil. Sometimes you might hear "become spiritually rooted" which comes from being spiritually nourished each day which intels reading his word, praying, and meditating on God's word so, we can grow in God.

Be rooted in the present means letting go of the past and not waiting on the future. God says to stay focused and live in the moment daily. "Every plant that he didn't plant will be pulled up by its roots, leave them they are blind guides". If a blind man leads a blind man both will fall. "Rooted in present" is to watch your inner-self, watch your thoughts, mental patterns that form your ego, stop analyzing, stop judging, watch instead, observe, accept, and allow to be.

"The root is card-, and it means heart".

[bookoformon]

Time and Spirit: A Contemporary Translation of the Book of Mormon.

In 1829, Joseph Smith of Nauvoo, IL along with 8 other persons, friends and family, among whom was future President Abraham Lincoln, finished typesetting a Newer Testament called the Book of Mormon. It sold 6,000 copies all at once and became the most widely read book in America.

It was advertised as a "Christian themed adventure story" which was translated from ancient brass tablets found near Syracuse. NY. This was all advertising hooey, the Book of Mormon required a room full of typewriters going full blast for years and innovations in engineering in the publishing industry to accommodate the project.

The most outrageous of the claims Smith made about the Book was its translation from "Reformed Egyptian" of which there is no such thing.

The Book of Mormon is in fact a mixture of English and Hebrew and reads much like the Torah, a heavily encrypted poem epic poem detailing the history of the ancient Israelites.

This one, an American Torah, explains life in 19th Century America. The portrait is unflattering to say the least. Slavery in Egypt was a myth, in America it certainly was not.

The Torah instructs us in the making of civilization by encouraging maturity, intelligence, sound government, and self-realization, needed for human sentience and success. Slavery in the Torah is in the mind.

The Jews were never once slaves to a Pharaoh in Egypt, they have however been slaves to propaganda freedom from this, with the help of the God of Israel is the thrust of the Torah.

Freedom from corruptions, from slavery, weapons, waste, poverty, clear-cutting, all impropriety is the goal of the Book of Mormon.

It is an excellent scripture, but like the Torah requires in depth translation into English from its original mysterious format.

In addition to mixing Hebrew and English, there are 24 Brass Plates to be found in the text, 12 Temporal or secular plates, and 12 of the Spiritual.

All of my translations and suppositions about the metaphors are based on idioms found in the Torah.

Brass Plates for example are alloys of all the metals which represent various aspects of the Divine Personality reflecting off mankind's. Brass is the best combination for reflecting the very best of both.

We know the Book of Mormon is a massive idiom from this- The Book begins at z minus 600 BC from the birth of Christ, where the Plates say the story starts but brass was not invented for that purpose until well after 250 BCE.

Either way, we do not know how the contents of the Book of Mormon become 24 Plates. We will find out. The Torah has 54 Frames, I suspect we can organize the Book of Mormon and find the Plates and their contents if we look.

There are 15 Books and hints in the Book of Ether about a 16th. As we will see in my comments on Chapter 1 of Nephi 1, the Book of Mormon is what is called a "molecule" with the Torah. They are bonded together through logic and symbols that amplify the meaning of one by the other.

The 15 Books are named in Hebrew, with roots in the Torah, and define the reasons one should read each book, they also represent a kind of religious puzzle called a Tantra. Look what happens when we try to solve the puzzle with just a few of the Hebraic terms found in the Book:

1 Nephi, 2 Nephi, Jacob, Enos, and Jarom.

"To be on God's Wavelength, to be mortal and immortal, follow me to the Source and be prosperous and happy."

Omni, Words of Mormon, and Mosiah

"The secrets hidden within these Words of Truth, of Salvation itself..."

Alma, Helaman, Ammon, Ammoron

"Are revealed for the purposes of bringing Light and strength through the Teachings...

4 Nephi, Ether, Mormon, Moroni

"And lead finally, to the Abode of Truth, into the Company of Angels, where all shall Witness My Likeness in thee and thine in Mine." 

The book begins with a man named Nephi, "Of God" who wants to go in search of the "mysteries of the goodness of God".

The Book of Mormon explains what he finds instead: a wicked, wicked people being governed by a wicked government, an oppressed people, and a misguided church. Times have not changed all that much.

It is my belief we should all be Mormons- the real kind- practicing our very own homemade American faith as the foundation for Godly life in this country. A bizarre statement to be sure, but read on, and you will see what I mean.

We need a new Prophet President like Mister Lincoln, and we need his cabinet and army, willing to do what it takes to organize resistance to the oncoming darkness that is enveloping this world- all because of us. We are doing too little in the name of civilized life and it shows.

For more information on the background of the Book of Mormon mentioned above, please see my research paper on the same subject:

I have stated in this paper that radical change needs to overtake the Church. If you do not have blood on your garments, I know Christ will shine His love within your life. If you remain true to the faith, are spotless in it, as we are about to learn how to do, perhaps a new day will dawn and man can indeed claim the salvation promised in this Book.

[monogatcri]

‘  they  say  time  heals  all  wounds,  but  that  presumes  the  source  of  grief  is  finite.  ’

[ for kazuha ! ]

━━ ˟ ⊰🍁IN PHYSICAL MEANS , the saying doesn't even cover that basis. As unfortunate as their reality is, Kazuha must agree that: no matter the time, the body, mind, and soul do not fully heal from their injuries sustained. Humanity might wish to placate the sorrows with beautiful idioms ; however, the idioms only do so well to convince those who suffer from temporary pains: romantic breakup, a father yelling, a scraped knee -- but those are not what the saying truly wishes to address.

        The loss of a loved one is the most common pain.

        Though he finds the death justified, his best friend's demise still left a hole in his heart so deep, it will never heal fully. It is a void that feeds off his new experiences, reminds him that he will never experience what can transpire alongside that face, and, yet, he still manages to place one foot in front of the other...one day at a time.

        When he found companionship with any after that death, it took him days or weeks to manage to speak a word. His throat would form a lump so harrowing that should he part his lips, all that would tumble forth would have been a voice cracking under its own weighted pressure and tears that would slip over cheeks. That grief could only parallel his own feelings of his relief over his clan all but dying, giving him ample excuse to wander the lands ; his first days were spent in silence, hands clasped to paintbrush as lost poems slid over parchment.

        To Kaeya, a drinking partner he sat across from, his own drink untouched to ensure he did not accidentally sip down unwanted booze, this must be a familiar sensation: the loss, the pain, the grief...

        ❝ I have found that time does not heal all wounds myself, ❞ he'll admit, ideologically as everyone may wish for it, he was not unable to admit he did not believe it himself. ❝ To me, time pulls us by the arm and gives us light within that darkness -- a reason to continue on and fight ; it does not heal you completely, but it does wish to help assist in finding a new path to walk with more stable feet. ❞

⊰🍁𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬  𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

[void-tiger]

…I LIKE my speech being an odd unholy mixture of southern contractions and idioms, northern “you guy” (and probably other bits I’m not aware of), my 7th grade teacher’s canadian “eh” and insistance we knew the difference between “good” and “well,” and the internet dialect of “welp” and “lul” “ha. Mood.”

I like how when I had english-second (or third. Or fourth) language I just. Ended up dropping article using adjectives while speaking for a bit. And sometimes had my adjectives and adverbs rearrange to following a noun or verb verses preceeding it.

I love it when it bleeds through into how I write verses this stuffy formal voice I used as a child because it was “correct” verses how I actually spoke.

I love that—as a holdover from being in choirs and having a bit of vocal training—if you really listen to my speech, I “over-pronounce” ALL my vowels and follow how a word is written unless it is deliberately written as Silent. How I have a bit of a lilt to my speech, and how my consonants are often soft but never dropped because they roll off my (very short. probably tied. sad.) tongue that way.

I actually love it that my voice feels most like “me” when it lives in my chest as a warm contralto, but as I’m actually a soprano (and a halfway decent amateur actress when I find a bit, tyvm) it rises and falls in pitch and intensity and volume—especially when I’m animated in a good way verses bullied and policed into a monotone.

I love all this about my voice, especially since I never truly formed an accent. But my environments had an impact on my voice, anyway.

I struggle listening to recordings of myself. It makes me self-conscious. Especially when it’s of me speaking verses singing or acting. I hate I can hear my insecurities in my voice and all the Tone Policing (and therefore internalized as well) when is spoken speech verses verses that moment I finally relax into a performance (even if my body language continues to be incredibly stiff. Unless I’m actually acting.)

But.

There is nothing wrong with my voice. My voice is one of my best qualities and available skills left for my usage. And the only people who have ever taken issue with my speaking voice while praising my singing voice are people whose opinions never truly helped me (and often brought me harm instead—intended or not.)

So I’m taking it back. It is mine. I’m the one living in it. I’m the one using it. And maybe someday I’ll be able to live comfortably in my own skin, too.

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 24: Taken

Sam sat in Stiles' car as he took her to the school. Lydia went missing again.

"That girl can never stay in one place…", Sam muttered to her best friend.

"She ended up somewhere. What if it's a dead body?", he asked. 

They quickly arrived at the school. "Where is she?", Stiles called as they got out of the car.

"Over here.", Allison replied as the two rushed up to her. Lydia was beside her, a dazed look on her face.

"What happened?", Sam asked. "It's the same thing. Same thing as the pool. I got into the car heading somewhere totally different and ended up here. And you told me to call you if you found a dead body.", Lydia told Stiles.

"You found a dead body?", Stiles exclaimed.

"Not yet.", Lydia said. 

"What do you mean not yet?", Sam asked in confusion.

"Lydia, you're supposed to call us after you find the dead body!", Stiles fussed.

"Oh no, I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on.", Lydia responded, shaking her head.

"We're not the ones finding the dead body! It's always you! We don't have special weird connections to the dead!", Stiles complained.

"Guys! I found the dead body!", Scott shut them down as they followed his gaze. Hanging over the 'Beacon Hills High School' sign was the body of the victim.

The stone of the sign was covered in the blood of the victim, who was wearing a police uniform. Stiles and Sam's eyes as they muttered simultaneously, realizing who it was. "Tara."

Hours later, the school was flooded with police. Stiles was speechless to say the least. Tara had been a family friend of Stiles.

Sam only encountered her every now and then when they were in middle school. She helped them with homework whenever things got hard. She had been Sheriff Stilinski's partner for a few years now. Now she's dead.

The school itself seemed to be a radar for death. Sam tuned in and out Ms. Blake's English lesson. Sam was suspicious of even more now. Why haven't she said anything about the recent issues? What was she gaining from this? Why she continued on as if she didn't see what she saw was beyond Sam.

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors and similes. All tools the writer uses to tell their story.", Ms. Blake droned on. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents.", she complimented Lydia's drawing.

Lydia's been drawing the same exact tree every day lately. It was starting to be creepy at this point. What did the tree mean?

"You and every guy I've ever dated.", Lydia retorted. Sam snickered and Ms. Blake caught it. "Well, that was an idiom, by the way. Sam, could you give me an example of a metaphor?"

Sam glanced at her, boredly. "Raining cats and dogs, heart of snow, you're the eyelash in my eye–"

She cut Sam off. "Thank you, Samantha.", she said with a smile. "Idioms are something like a secret to the people who know the language or the culture. They're phrases that only make sense if you only know the key words. Like saying jump the gun is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race. Or a phrase like seeing the whole board."

"Chess.", Stiles mumbled.

"That's right, Stiles. Do you play?", Ms. Blake wondered.

"No, my father does.", Stiles said. "Now, when does an idiom become a cliché?", Ms. Blake walked back to the front of the class.

"I think I can get to Ethan. And I'm pretty sure I can make him talk.", Scott leaned over and told Stiles and Sam.

"And how exactly are you gonna separate Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?", Sam asked.

"Wait, hold up, why do you want to talk to him?", Stiles asked Scott.

"The druids are emissaries, right? What if the Darach was an emissary to the Alphas?", Scott asked, making their eyebrows raise.

"Kinda makes sense, but we're going to have a huge problem getting to Ethan through Aiden. Ever since he'd been back to school, they've been stuck at the hip.", Sam says.

"Already found a way to split them up.", Scott said as he and Stiles both turned around and stared at Lydia.

Lydia caught their gaze and sighed. "What now?"

Sam smiled. "Can you do us a favor?"

After catching Ethan alone in a hallway, the trio stayed with him as Lydia was distracting Aiden.

"Why are you even talking to me? I helped kill your friend. How do you know I'm not going to kill another one?", Ethan asked Scott while looking at Stiles and Sam.

"Is he looking at me? Are you threatening me? I'm going to break off an extra-large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freaking—" Sam looked at Stiles in shock at his sudden outburst and pulled him away. "Okay, easy!", she says, and looked back at Ethan, apologetically.

She urned to Stiles. "Before you could even get that branch, he'd rip your head off. You want that?", Sam scolded.

"We're talking to you because I know you didn't want to kill Boyd. And I think if something like that happened now you wouldn't do it again.", Scott said.

"I think he'd do it again anyways. He's part of the Alpha pack, that's what they do.", Sam said, letting go of Stiles.

"You don't know what we owe them. Especially Deucalion. We weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met them. We weren't Alphas.", Ethan explained. Sam raised her eyebrows. They wasn't expecting that much info. "So, what, you guys were betas?", she asked.

"We were Omegas. In actual wolf packs, Omegas are the scapegoat—the last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse from the rest of the pack.", Ethan corrected.

"So, you and your brother were like the bitches of the pack?", Stiles asked.

"Something like that.", Ethan grumbled. 

"So, what happened?", Scott asked.

"They were killers. I mean people talk about us as monsters, but they were the ones who gave us the reputation. And our Alpha was the worst of them.", Ethan explained.

"Why didn't you guys just fight back? Form Voltron wolf, you know? Kick everyone's ass'.", Stiles asked. 

"We couldn't! We didn't know how to control it back then!", Ethan fussed.

"So, Deucalion taught you.", Sam says.

"Yes, and then we fought. We took down a whole pack, one by one. And by the time we got to our Alpha he was begging for his life! And we tore him apart. Literally.", Ethan confessed.

"What about your emissary? They're all dead? Kali and Ennis' too?"

"All of them except for Deucalion.", Ethan corrected.

"You mean Morrell?", Scott questioned. Before Ethan could answer, he let out a pained gasp. He clutched his chest and clenched his jaw in pain. The trio looked at each other in confusion.

"What, what's wrong? Are you hurt?", Scott asked him, concerned.

"Not me. My brother." Sam's eyes widened. She told Isaac to step back and if he's not doing anything, and Derek is still resting…

Sam shook her head. He's not gonna come here…

Cora would though.

Sam quickly ran down the stairs and into the locker room.

Lydia was screaming for Aiden to stop as the sound of metal clanking and bones crushing erupted in the room.

She found Cora on the floor in Lydia's arms. But before she could ask what happened, Aiden tackled her to the floor, wolfed out. She kept his fangs away from her neck as he snapped at her. "Get offa me! Get off!", she yelled.

Aiden was ripped off of her, stumbling back against his brother and Scott. "You can't do this!", Ethan yelled at his twin.

"She came at me!", The other twin shouted, angrily pointing at Cora. Stiles came over and kneeled down next to Lydia, Cora and Sam.

"Doesn't matter! Kali gave Derek till the next full moon. You can't touch him." Ethan pointed at Cora. "Or her. Or her!", then at Sam. 

Ethan pulled his brother away and out of the locker room. Cora was groaning in pain, her head gushing with blood.

Sam helped her up as she clutched her head. Sam sat Cora down, grabbed a paper towel, soaked it under some running water, and dabbed the blood off her forehead.

Cora hissed, yanking her head away. "I know it hurts. I know you don't like me, but let me help you anyways.", Sam scolded, and she reluctantly let her clean her up.

"You okay?", Scott asked Sam and Cora. Sam frowned. "Do I need to answer?"

"She doesn't look okay.", Lydia said.

"I'll heal.", Cora told them. She tossed the bloody paper towel into the sink and stumbled back, Scott and Stiles getting her back on her feet once more.

"I said I'm fine.", Cora growled. "Do you realize how suicidal-ly crazy that was? What were you thinking going after them?", Stiles asked.

"I did it for Boyd!", Cora yelled. "None of you were doing anything."

"We're trying.", Scott assured.

"And you're failing. You're just a bunch of stupid teenagers running around thinking you can stop people from getting killed. All you do is show up late. All you really do is find the bodies.", she argued.

"Cora, you're a teenager yourself and you got put on your ass by a stupid teenager.", Sam said, pointing a hand to the alpha twin. "Not only that, what you just did was a pretty stupid move back there. Had Lydia not been here, or had those twins not been linked, we wouldn't have known what the hell had happened to you. You're not out here trying to stop the sacrifices or dealing with a psycho emissary. We are. We're the ones trying to fix all the problems.", Sam says, stepping up.

"You can't just act on revenge alone. We're just as hurt about Boyd as you are, but we're trying to stop people from being victims to this so no one else will die. You can't do this alone.", Sam told her. Cora glared at her before walking out of the locker room and Sam sighed.

"She's definitely a Hale.", Stiles spoke up and left to walk out. "I'll make sure she gets home."

"I'll come with you.", Sam frowned, following him out of the locker room.

Now they were in Stiles' room as he paced in panic. He was considering telling his dad everything now that they know what the pattern is.

Healers. Warriors. Virgins. Philosophers and guardians. His dad was a potential target. Sam couldn't blame him for being nervous. She hadn't even told her mom what was going on.

But if she knew Deaton… there may be a chance. Hell, if she knew what Deaton did and was a part of it in some way, Sam wouldn't know what to do.

Now Stiles struggled to tell what was going on to his dad who stared at Sam and Cora in confusion. 

"Yes! Okay. No, ugh.", Stiles groaned.

"Stiles, words please.", Sam says. Stiles was mumbling, incoherently.

"Stiles!", Sheriff Stilinski called, impatiently.

"Dad, I'm sorry, okay? Just– I'm trying to figure out where to start from here.", Stiles fidgeted with the ends of his plaid button-down.

"Hey! I don't have this kind of time.", his dad yelled.

"Yeah, because you're working on the murders. We know. That's what we're trying to tell you.", Sam says.

"Okay, for the last year you had all the cases that you couldn't figure out, right? All the murders involving Kate Argent and then Matt killing all the people who had drowned him. And, and all these murders right now…it's like you've been playing a losing game."

"Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own kid and his friends.", Mr. Stilinski shook his head.

"We're not doing a review, though.", Sam says. Stiles rushed over to one of his shelves and grabbed a chessboard.

"See, that's it, dad. The reason you've been losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board." Stiles put the board down on his desk. "We need to show you the whole board." Stiles began setting up the chess pieces with post-it strips. Derek, Scott, and Peter were all black pieces with pink strips. Wolves. 

Chris, Kate, and Allison were all white pieces with purple strips. Hunters.

Jackson was identified with a yellow stripe while Deaton had a blue strip. As for Sam, she had an orange strip with a black piece.

"Last year, during the first murder of the girl that turned out to be Laura Hale, Scott got bit in the woods by an animal when we snuck out."

"You said Scott wasn't there.", Sheriff Stilinski frowned.

"We lied.", Sam says, shamefully. Stiles groaned.

"He turned into a werewolf after a few days. We tried to figure out who killed the girl. We thought that Derek Hale killed his own sister since he's also a werewolf but turns out the Alpha did it. The Alpha's Peter Hale, Derek's uncle."

"Long story short, we were trying to find out who the Alpha was all at the same time Kate Argent was here and trying to kill Derek because she's a werewolf hunter along with the whole Argent family.", Stiles explained.

"The night Peter was planning on biting me, Kate Argent kidnapped Derek and I and held us captive in a cellar. It's what hunters do; they're crazy. But when Scott got us out she shot us.", Sam explained. 

"Deaton healed her because he's some kind of Druid—", Stiles said and took a breath. "And Peter Hale killed Kate Argent because he was killing all those people who started the Hale fire. Then Derek killed Peter. Okay, um, next set of murders—", Stiles looked at the chess board. 

"Jackson wanted the bite from Derek. He gave it to him, but he rejected it. So, he turned into a lizard creature thing called a Kanima and was being controlled by Matt, who was making him kill people as revenge for drowning him. Matt died, I ended up getting powers, Gerard Argent killed him, and Gerard controlled Jackson. We defeated Gerard, then Derek and Peter, who came back from the dead by the way, killed Jackson and he came back to life as a werewolf.", Sam confessed.

"And at the same time Peter Hale was controlling Sam and making her do all this weird crap and made me think she was an Alpha which she isn't but that's done now so they just hate each other. Yeah. Now we've got an Alpha pack running around Beacon Hills and a crazy Darach, which is a Druid that went down the wrong path according to Deaton, running around killing people for sacrifices. And whoever the Darach was ended up slashed up and left for the dead by wolves.", Stiles finally finished with a heavy breath. Sheriff Stilinski blinked a few times.

"Scott and Derek are werewolves?" He raised his brows.

"Yes.", Stiles sighed, believing his father was understanding. 

"And Kate Argent was a werewolf?" He wasn't getting it.

"Hunter. That's purple…hunters.", Stiles fidgeted with the Kate Argent chess piece.

"Along with Allison and her father.", Cora added.

"Yeah. And, my friend Deaton, the veterinarian, is a Kanima?", his dad asked.

"No, no, no, no, no. He's a Druid. Kay? Well, we think."

"So, who's the Kanima?"

"Jackson.", Sam said.

"No, Jackson's a werewolf."

"Yeah, now. Jackson was a Kanima at first then Peter and Derek killed him, and he came back to life as a werewolf.", Sam explained.

"Since everybody finds it weird, he was dead.", Stiles pursed his lips.

"So, who's a Da-Rack?"

"Darach.", Stiles and Sam corrected. Sheriff Stillinski rubbed his forehead in growing frustration.

"We don't know yet.", Cora answered.

"But he was killed by werewolves."

"Slashed up and left for dead.", Stiles corrected.

"We think.", Cora said.

"Why was Jackson the Kanima?", he asked.

"And that's what you've missed in Beacon Hills the past year.", Sam smiled. Sheriff Stilinski leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Because sometimes the shape that you take reflects the person you are.", Sam says. 

"And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier by the second father take?", Sheriff Stillinski asked, annoyed. 

"Uh…that would be more of an expression. Like the one you're currently wearing.", Stiles licked his lips.

"Yeah." Sheriff Stilinski got up from the chair and began heading towards the door.

"We're telling the truth!", Sam yelled. "I have powers!", Sam told him, and he turned around, fixing her with a look.

"Dad, dad, dad! I can prove it, okay? She's one of them," Stiles pointed to Cora, "a werewolf!"

"Stiles, Stiles! That's enough!", Sheriff yelled.

"Dad can you please just hold on.", Stiles pleaded. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

 She stood up hesitantly.

"Trust us, please.", Sam pleaded to the older man.

"Alright dad, just watch this. Okay?" His dad's eyes widened as they heard a thud on the floor behind them. Sheriff Stilinski ran past Stiles and Sam, and they turned around to see him crouched over Cora who fainted. 

Cora laid unconscious, the cut on her head bleeding black blood.

Shit.

"Call an ambulance.", Sheriff Stilinski demanded. Sam took out her phone and immediately dialed 911. After Sam explained, Stiles dragged her into the hallway, leaving Sheriff Stilinski to take care of Cora.

"We can't take her to the hospital! She's going to heal and then we'll have more questions to answer.", Stiles whispered, panicked.

"Stiles, she's bleeding black. Something bad's happening. As far as I know, Melissa is the closest person we can trust and rely on. We'll take her to her.", Sam reassured.

She took her notebook as she sat in Cora's hospital room. Cora looked sick, pale and almost lifeless. Just like Lydia.

Sam looked down at her open pages. Five words were written down on it: healers, warriors, guardians, virgins, and philosophers.

As far as she knew, Deaton's a healer, and he was almost sacrificed so that was crossed off the list. Stiles' dad was a potential target, so he was on guardian.

Either she or Stiles had to be on virgins…

Would the warriors be Scott?

Who's the philosopher? 

"What happened?", Derek's voice snapped her out of her thoughts as he rushed into the room. He looked panicked as he caught the sight of his sister.

His shoulders immediately slumped as he went to her side, checking her bandages. He could hear her heartbeat, but it was slow. Why?

"She got in a fight with Aiden at school. Stiles and I took her back to his house and she passed out. She's not healing.", Sam said.

"Why isn't she healing?", Derek asked.

"I don't know. But it can't be because of her fight with Aiden, she should have healed already. Something else is going on.", Sam says, frustrated.

Derek took a seat in the chair next to the bed and took his baby sister's cold, lifeless hand in his.

He squeezed it, pressing his forehead to his clasped hands. watching his baby sister cling to life.

Sam sighed, looking at the notes again. Something's missing. "What's wrong?", Derek asked, noticing Sam's frustration.

"Something doesn't add up. It's confusing…", Sam says, looking over her notes again.

"What is?", he asked.

"The sacrifice pattern.", she says as she tried to piece everything together. "You know the pattern?", Derek sat up.

"Yeah, Allison found it out today and told us–" Sam's eyes widened as she looked back down at her notes. Allison. Hunter. Warrior.

"Sam?", Derek urged.

"It's related to us. The pattern's getting close to us.", Sam says, getting up.

"How?", Derek asked.

"Stiles and I have to be the virgins. Allison's the warrior since she's a hunter. Stiles' dad might be the guardian. Deaton's gone so he has to be the healer. I can't find out who's the philosopher….", she trailed on.

"Lydia.", Sam realized. 

"How is Lydia a philosopher?"

"Philosopher, another word for scholar or thinker. She's always brought up some facts every now and then when it helped us. I just— What if there's something more going on than we know about? What if the Darach's closer to us than we thought? The darach is someone we know.", Sam says. 

"I kinda doubt it. I'm still suspicious as to why people are dying just because she gets a feeling. For all we know, it could be Lydia.", Derek said, bluntly.

Sam shook her head. "Lydia finds the bodies, she doesn't cause the deaths.", she said, and pulled out her phone as she got a call from Stiles.

"Where are you?", Sam asked. 

"I'm with Scott.", Stiles said and Scott cuts in. "The school but that's not important. It's not guardians, not law enforcement. It's philosophers, as in teachers! Allison and her father just found Mr. Westover.", Scott informed.

"That makes sense. Tara wasn't always a cop. She used to teach middle school.", Stiles said over the phone.

"Then the last one's going to be another teacher."

"There's dozens of them, Scott. And they're all headed home.", Stiles said. Sam shook her head. "No, Stiles."

"They're all going to the recital!", Scott exclaimed in realization. 

"So, the three of us are going to go protect three dozen teachers?", Sam asked in disbelief. 

"Sounds like a plan.", Stiles mumbled.

Sam sighed and hung up the phone as Derek's eyes never left her. "The Philosophers are the teachers. Looks like I'm going to your girlfriend's recital.", Sam says, taking her things. Derek frowned. "I have to stay here.", Derek said. 

"I know. We'll be back.", Sam says before leaving. Derek stops her, though. "Sam," Derek called. Sam turned around to face him. "Be careful.", he warned. She gave him a smile and nodded before leaving.

After arriving at the school, Sam and Stiles' jumped out of Stiles' Jeep and rushed inside to where the concert had already started.

Stiles and Sam pushed right through the auditorium doors and found Scott watching the concert.

"Hey.", they whispered, catching his attention.

"Why is Lydia not with you?", Sam asked.

"She was, she went to go talk to Aiden, I think. She's somewhere in here.", Scott said, continuing to watch the performance.

Sam looked around and saw the twins. Lydia wasn't with Aiden and Aiden was with his brother.

Something's wrong. Sam quietly left the auditorium and searched for the redhead.

"Lydia?", Sam whispered, looking around the moonlit hallways. She continued walking until she could hear shuffling coming from a classroom to her right. She turned and looked into the classroom with widened eyes. Sitting, bound to a chair, was an unconscious Lydia. Sam ran in, taking in the sight of her as she tried to pry the girl's restraints apart.

"Lydia, wake up.", Sam tapped her cheeks before trying her restraints again.

"She's not going to wake up." A female voice startled Sam. Sam turned around and saw Ms. Blake standing before her.

"You knew all along, didn't you?", she asked as Sam glared at her. Her eyebrows furrowed as Sam came to the realization.

"You're the darach.", Sam muttered. The prissy, snobby teacher who pretended to be innocent. The woman who pretended to cry over Derek's wounds. She was behind everything.

"How does it feel to be out-powered by your enemy?", she smiled. "You were going to kill her.", Sam growled.

"She's just an inconvenience. Just like you.", Ms. Blake sneered before rushing at Sam and knocking her back against stacked desks and Sam groaned as she fell to the floor.

Through her blurry vision, she could see the woman walk over to Lydia before passing out once more.

Last month

"You knew about him this whole time? That's why you asked me if I was okay?", Lydia asked Sam. The girl nodded. "A little after the beginning of the school year.", Sam confessed as they talked about Jackson.

Her eyes widened. "You've known for that long?"

"We've just been trying to keep people safe…", Sam looked down at her hands. 

"From what?", she asked. Sam looked up at her. "Jackson hasn't said anything to you?"

"He's explained to me what Derek's taught him—about the full moons, the hunger, the claws and all. He told me about how he didn't know he was doing the killings, and he didn't know how he got turned into that lizard thing.", Lydia said.

"Kanima.", Sam corrected.

Lydia gave her a sad smile. "You guys have been through a lot."

Sam nodded and explained everything. From Scott's bite to Kate, to Peter's bite, and Allison's mom trying to kill her and Scott, to the whole thing with Jackson's werewolf transformation.

"She tried killing you.", Lydia frowned at the news of Allison's behavior.

"Yep, so we're not talking at the moment.", Sam says.

Sam even told her about the sudden voices she was hearing after talking about Peter's bite. "Deaton told me I was dying. Throwing up black blood and constantly being weak, that was the bite's doing."

"I didn't go through any of that…", Lydia muttered. 

Sam nodded. "The most they told me was that you were just having an allergic reaction but that was it."

Sam groaned as she woke up to see Lydia was whimpering as Ms. Blake was threatening her.

She smiled at Sam. "We're bite buddies.", she said. Sam chuckled. "Bite buddies. I like that.", she grins.

"It's too bad though, and too late." Ms. Blake started to duct tape Lydia's wrist to the chair. Lydia started crying, and pleading no.

She tried yanking her wrists free but to no avail. Sam got up and used Ms. Blake's shadow to push her away from Lydia, slamming her into the blackboard of the classroom before rushing to free Lydia.

The woman groaned and got up, glaring at Sam behind her long dark hair.

She jumped over the desk, ready to run at her with a knife.

"Drop it!" The voice of Sheriff Stilinski yelled from behind Sam. The girl's eyes widened as she turned to him, but Ms. Blake took that as an opportunity to stab the knife into Sam's side, making her drop in pain.

Before the sheriff could react, a loud roar erupted from the back of the classroom. Scott stood there fully wolfed out, threatening Ms. Blake with a growl. He jumped over desks and started clawing at Ms. Blake, who dodged his attacks. She finally knocked him in the chest and sent him flying back into rows of stacked up chairs.

Stiles came running up to the front door of the classroom and looked in with wide eyes. In a swift motion, Ms. Blake shoved a desk in front of the door with ease, blocking his entrance. 

Sam placed her hand on the floor, pulling at Ms. Blake's shadow as she fell to the floor. Looking back at Sam, she kicked her chest and Sam groaned with a cough as the woman got up. 

"There was a girl…there was a girl. We found her in the woods, her face and body slashed apart. That was you, wasn't it?", he asked, angry.

"Maybe I should have started with philosophers—with knowledge and strategy.", she says. Sam's ears rang as she heard the sheriff's gun pop. He shot the woman's leg and she stumbled but soon steadied.

"Healers…" Ms. Blake lunged for the Sheriff and stabbed the knife in his chest. He cried out in pain as she backed him up against a stack of chairs. "Warriors.", she growled. She snatched the badge on his uniform. "Guardians." She crushed the badge with her bare hands. It dropped to the floor with a quiet clank. "Virgins.", she finished, leaning in for a kiss with the Sheriff.

Stiles pushed the desk away from blocking the door and finally entered the room. He helped Sam up and they ran over to where Ms. Blake and his father were previously standing.

It only took a second to blink as they all saw an ugly, disfigured, pale monster in place of Ms. Blake. She let out a screech before leaving with the sheriff.

Scott made it back to his feet as well, but they were too late. All they were staring at was the sight of broken glass.

"Dad?", Stiles called.

As the trio got settled in Stiles' Jeep, her phone rang. Sam winced as she pulled it out of her pocket and saw my mom's face on the screen. She answered it in a rush, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Hi, mom.", Sam greeted. "Are you with Stiles and Scott? You've been gone all day.", her mother said. Sam nodded, though she couldn't see her. "Y-Yeah, yeah! We went to a recital at school, yeah, we're leaving now.", Sam says, and bit her lip from the pain in her side.

"Okay, just let me know if you're staying at their house–", she heard before she stopped. Sam's eyes widened a bit at the silence.

"Mom?", Sam called. "Hold on, someone's at the door.", she told her. Sam looked at Scott and Stiles as they glanced at her.

Sam heard a crash in her phone's speaker and jumped at the sound. "Mom!? Mom!", Sam exclaimed, calling her mother.

The phone hung up.

Sam could hear the blood pounding through her ears as swallowed, looking at the ended call. Her hand trembled as Stiles looked at her in shock.

The boys quickly took their friend to Derek's loft, rushing in. "Derek! Derek!", Scott called as they entered the loft. "What happened?", Derek rushed into the room.

The boys laid her down on the floor as Sam silently cried. They all looked down at her as Derek examined Sam's wound.

"Ms. Blake.", Sam rasped, groaning. "She's the Darach."

"What?", Derek looked at her in disbelief. Stiles went to go get paper towels.

"She's the Darach. She attacked Lydia, she tried to sacrifice her.", Scott explained.

Stiles came back and pressed the paper towels on her wound. Sam let out a cry of pain, gripping his wrist as he looked at her apologetically. Her body started to hurt all over.

"Then how did she get into it?", Derek asked Scott, gesturing to Sam as he took the paper towels away from Stiles shaky hands, putting pressure on Sam himself.

"I went to look for Lydia. She wasn't with Aiden.", Sam swallowed as Scott looked at her in panic. "Why didn't you say anything!?", he exclaimed, worriedly.

"We don't know! One second, she was at the concert with us the next she was gone. We found her in there.", Scott told him.

Before Sam could explain, she screamed in pain as her head felt like it was gonna explode. Her body felt like it was on fire and felt too sore with every touch. The boys instantly flinched, fidgeting around as they were unsure of what to do.

"What's going on?", Scott yelled.

"I-I don't know!", Derek replied, taking Sam in his arms as she thrashed at his touch. It was too much. Everything burned and hurt. He held her arms in his hands, his veins instantly turning black, but the pain didn't subside.

"Derek, do something! Make it stop!", Scott yelled, covering his ears. "I'm trying!", Derek yelled back, wincing in pain. It was stab wound. It shouldn't have hurt this bad.

The pain started to fade as well as Sam's crying. Her whimpers turned into soft pants as she laid her head into Derek's chest, shutting her eyes.

The boys sighed, but silenced as the werewolves listened for her heartbeat. It was slow. Steady, but worryingly slow.

Derek quickly went to find supplies to clean Sam's wound and dress it. Scott and Stiles couldn't help but sit in silence, feeling the despair of what would come for the sacrifices.

[corvase]

Hello! I was wondering if you have any advice or suggestions for book titles. Particularly in the action/romance/drama genre. Thank you!

advice for deciding on a book title

firstly, thank you for asking me! :)

this is definitely one of the hardest parts of writing (along with character names).

for the romance/action/drama genre— or for any genre frankly, there are three ideas i approach to tackle this aspect of writing.

sayings, idioms, and or classic media

^^ cross out titles as a way to switch up phrases

describing how your characters meet, or something relating to their relationship in the novel specifically

to start with #1.

i search up (and or think of) idioms, or media, or things people say in general. then i either use those, or twist it a little and give it my own flare.

an example of this would be the book much ado about you by eloisa james, which put a twist to shakespeare’s much ado about nothing, or one like you deserve each other by sarah hogle, which is just a phrase people use often.

i use this site most often for sayings. i think it also helps to pay attention to daily life.

take the book very sincerely yours by kerry winfrey for example— that title is simply a way to sign off an email— and there are many different variations you could come up with depending on the book, like “yours truly,” or “with love,” or “thinking of you.”

let’s say your story is a comedic/romance/action/drama one about eeehhhh a gal who meets someone who’s a detective on her crazy family’s case (but she doesn’t know at first and they fall in love or something (don’t shoot me okay i just came up with it now)). you could have something simple like “first comes love, then comes cuffs”, or you could go simpler with, “humor me.”

keep in mind:

your title doesn’t actually have to be something blatantly plot specific.

it can be about one component of your story, or two, or five— or it could be about one throwaway line you had in the book (you deserve each other does this).

take for example famous last words by katie alender, where the title only targets the horror/action/hollywood-esque part of the story, although there’s more plot to it. it’s also a relatively common saying and is effective despite being known already.

or on the flip side, there’s the flatshare by beth o’leary, which quite literally tells you exactly what the book is about strictly from the title. a flatshare. it is simple and to the point and doesn’t take away from the story itself. same with howl’s moving castle by diana wynne jones.

#2 (which is basically a subsection of #1) is cross out titles, which are also very neat to me (and make for pretty cover art). these are where a title cuts out a part of the original title and only keeps parts that fits their novel.

for example the saying “out of sight, out of mind”, which could turn into “out of sight, out of mind” or “out of sight, out of mind my life” or something silly like that.

a more serious (and real) example is everything i know about parties, dates, friends, jobs, life, love by dolly alderton.

#3 is a title that describes the way your characters meet, which i find have a wistful effect to them.

an example of this would be it ends with us by colleen hoover, the wedding date by jasmine guillory, or aristotle and dante discover the universe by benjamin alire sáenz.

some titles straight from my head that follow the theme of describing the characters relationship (again, titles aren’t my strong suit) are “and yet, there is you” for something along the lines of a second chance romance, or one where the characters hate each other but are still drawn to each other despite it. either that, or “a song for your thoughts,” for a story where one of the characters enjoys singing, or maybe karaoke is an inside joke between them.

was this just me talking about some of my favorite books? maybe! do i regret it? no!

i hope this helps even if the effect is minuscule! happy writing! :)