#anyway i have like 9 pages sketched out i hope i can post it this week ? maybe ?

[flintstonegummy69]

prev image for this super indulgent girl!bk/dk au comic im making (aka scenes from the i-island ball that never was)

[tea-earl-grey]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @isagrimorie (thanks for the tag!)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

only 9 lmao. you're never gonna guess what my fic writing weakness is.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

108,636 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Doctor Who (and various related fandoms. though funnily enough i've never posted a new who fic), Star Trek (currently just Star Trek Picard but i have a few Voyager wips too), and a single Steven Universe fic.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

this happiness is hell on earth – Steven Universe fanfic about Pearl and Rose's toxic relationship and Pearl learning to recover after the series

And They Became Monsters (the fall of great men) – Gallifrey/Bernice Summerfield/DWEU fic that's a novel length character study of Irving Braxiatel and started as a way to explain his timeline and then i was carried away by the themes.

The Office – a somewhat silly Gallifrey fic where Romana and Narvin fight over an office following Enemy Lines when Romana takes over the CIA

A Holiday – a fluffy Eighth Doctor audios fic where Eight, Liv, and Helen go on vacation and accidentally run into the Doctor's past...

What is Beautiful – Gallifrey fic where Narvin and Leela explore one of the Axis worlds alone and Leela makes Narvin see the beauty in the world

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try to! a few comments always get lost in the email weeds but i try to make an effort to respond.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh this is hidden lore because i wrote it before i had an ao3 account but i posted a Gallifrey fic called Hope in Times of War in 2015. it was on my old tumblr so i doubt that is survives online but was about Gallifrey succumbing to Rassilon's military dictatorship during the Time War and Romana, Brax, Leela, and Narvin all being separated and i remember Narvin was executed as part of military executions and well... no one else had a great time either. i've learned that i prefer writing bittersweet endings to purely angsty ones.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i don't tend to go for outright happy 'everything's fine' type endings. the closest is probably What is Beautiful because it doesn't have much of a plot other than some musings on Narvin's character growth.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

on the one SU fic i wrote, i got a weird hate comment an hour after posting it and the commenter edited it like three times so it was no longer hate but just... vague disapproval and complaining about... not even my fic but just the standard interpretation of the show. anyways it didn't bother me but i did think it was funny how bothered this person was over the canonical fact that Pearl and Rose had a toxic relationship.

other than that, i don't really write for big enough fandoms or write controversial enough things to attract any hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

none published :) i've written some smut but i've been far too insecure to publish it because 1) i'm very ace and i think it shows in my writing and 2) some people i know irl have my ao3 and i tend to be conscious about how things i post could escape online containment. if i do publish any smut i'll probably publish it anonymously.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

again – none published. i have a few Gallifrey fusions i've sketched out before and one Gallifrey/Voyager crossover that i wrote a few pages of over the summer.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but i would welcome it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! i think my writing habits are far too erratic to be a good co-writer but i love sending ideas back and forth with people.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

the Gallifrey ot3. not even necessarily in a romantic sense, just in a 'these characters' lives forever revolve around each other and they can never escape even if they want desperately to leave' sense. Gallifrey was the first fandom that i was really dedicated to and spent a lot of time thinking about so these characters have permanently left a mark on my brain.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i only have one posted WIP that i am very much intent on finishing but as for my eternal drafts i have two notable ones that i still work on occasionally but will never be published in their current form:

Star Trek Perseverance – i challenged myself last spring/summer to create my own 20 episode season Star Trek series that i would want to see in the world. it's a slight AU of the end of Picard s3 where Seven and Raffi were given a new ship called Perseverance instead of the Ent G with a mostly OC cast of main characters and a more similar 90s vibe of an episodic series with different tones. i have an outline of all the s1 episodes and a few of the "scripts" written but yeah... writing 20 full length episode scripts is simply too much for me to tackle but i'm toying with the idea of adapting a few to prose/taking out the AU elements to publish because i do really love the "episodes" i wrote and it was fun to experiment with some comedy/light hearted stories which i tend not to write.

also during lockdown i started a 'Romana survives the Time War instead of the Doctor' AU of new who and i sketched out an outline of s1 (and some other big season plot points) but only wrote about 10 pages. it has some excellent writing tbh but given how long it would need to be, it's destined to live forever on my hard drive and in my head.

16. What are your writing strengths?

character voices 100% if i feel like i can't find a character's voice for whatever reason then i simply will not write for them. even when i go back to my old work, i cringe at the pacing/grammar errors, but generally i think the character voices are pretty on point.

i also like to think i've become pretty good at adding rhythm and pacing to my prose when i put in the effort. it's quite hard to do sometimes but it's so satisfying when it works. i'd never claim to be a poet but i love writing prose that just feels good and melodic to read aloud.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

... finishing things. or just committing to projects and ideas that i can actually follow through on.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

oof. i know enough Spanish (and Russian to a lesser extent) to get through some dialogue but i would very much want to run it by a fluent speaker first. however neither Spanish nor Russian have ever come up in my fics.

the only non-English languages that's come up in my fics are French and Latin. the French was for an abandoned fic and i asked my French-speaking friend to translate. the Latin was for ATBM and i'm pretty sure i ended up taking the line out because i didn't know any Latin speakers(?) (i mean it's a dead language so.... readers? translators?) and was too shy to ask a stranger.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

technically i wrote some HP fic in a notebook when i was 8 though i didn't know what fanfiction was at the time. (obligatory note that i'm not a HP fan or supporter right now given JKR's bigotries and hate speech)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

And They Became Monsters (the fall of great men) without a question. i poured my heart and soul into that beast and was the first time i wrote something that felt like Real Writing with Layers and Themes. when i was done i felt like my writing meant something more than the usual short fic i'd write. like at the end of the day it's a fanfic but it's also a critique of Great Men histories, a dissection of how art and the ways we view art perpetuates imperialism, studying how abuse causes abuse in cycles, how egotism stems from insecurity and slowly eats away at the self, how the self is just a performance and mask of something no one can ever name, and how sometimes the only thing you have to do to break away from cycles of tragedy and violence is to ask for help. (sorry i'm being too pretentious but i am very proud of my work on that one)

it was also the first time i feel like i put real effort into small details and experimented with them like tense – the story is told from the perspective of two versions of the same character and depending on the POV, the story is either told in past or present tense. there are even a few scenes when the two versions meet and i still narrate one's actions in present tense while the rest of the scene is in past tense to drive in how the present-tense character is quite literally out of place. there are also quite a few sections that i purposefully wrote as fragmented and run-on sentences to mimic the thought processes of someone having a breakdown/ideological crisis.

if i had to pick a favorite excerpt it would probably be the confrontation between the two different versions of Braxiatel:

He sighed. “You believe this is my fault? Deferring responsibility? Are you sure that you have grown up?”

“You were the one who lied. You told me I was a hero. You told me I would win the War. My future is Gallifrey’s future. Don’t you remember that?” Braxiatel wouldn’t rise to anger because he was better than that, he would never give up the game. (It’s always been a game.) 

“I told you that you mattered. All children believe they matter.” Neutral, impassive, infuriating. He wasn’t belittling. Maybe to him, Braxiatel was still a child – the wayward son fallen far away from a distant and demanding father. Maybe that was the truth. What a cruel family he’s created. Just another cycle. Ad infinitum.

And here they were, blame circulating around and around. Things would never be resolved. Things would never heal. Braxiatel didn’t even want to heal. He wanted to leave this jagged cut deep inside – so deep that maybe the wrong Braxiatel felt it – because if there was an ugly scar for all to see that meant all the hurt was real. His bitterness and anger was justified because wasn’t healing just erasing? Forgetting the hurt meant letting it happen again and again, and there’s another cycle because he just can’t seem to get away.

Tagging: I can't remember which of my mutuals are fic writers but if you see this feel free to fill it out!

[charminglyantiquated]

step-by-step comic page

@weremouse​ and I were talking yesterday about drawing comics, and the shortcuts and tricks that you end up figuring out to speed up the ordeal. I ended up breaking down one of my short-comic pages into the steps of my current process, and having done that I figured I’d post it here in case anyone else finds it useful!

everything under the cut, since this is pretty image heavy:

1. Panels! I freehand them these days, which saves a lot of time, and I like how it looks a bit softer and more dynamic, especially compared to the perfectly geometrical rectangles I used to do.

2. New layer for major lines, and a new layer for speech bubbles (I seem to have deleted the rough draft layer I was working on, but it was definitely there - no details, but I sketch out the panel layout/major shapes/speech bubbles beforehand and draw over that).

3. New layer for text, new layer for details like hair, tattoos, etc, and new layer for line shading (which is probably the single biggest step backwards I’ve taken in terms of saving time lmao)

4. And that’s the hard work! The rest is pretty easy. I color most of my short comics in greyscale and then add color later. Wouldn’t work nearly as nicely for full-color, but it’s a good quick way to color limited palette comics. First step is to pick a shade of grey for the overall background:

5. New layer, and block color the small panels. Use greys that contrast the background shade, either much lighter or much darker. (note - I didn’t color the car windows, since I wanted to shade what was ‘outside’ differently than the car interior. I also colored the road on this layer instead of the previous one, which was a mistake I just didn’t care enough to fix whoops).

6. New layer, color the people and any any other objects you want to shade/color separately from the background. Having the big panel background, small panel background, and people on three different layers makes it really easy to color them later.

7. Time to add color! I’ll break down the individual steps I used, but the tl:dr is that I make a couple different clipping mask layers attached to a layer of flat grey, and play around with color/opacity/layer settings with a big soft brush until I like how it looks. I use a lot of soft light and overlay! Anything on a clipping mask layer only affects the layer it’s clipped to, so you don’t have to worry about precision.

Once you’re happy with it, then do the same for the other two grey layers. Each grey layer ends up looking more or less like this:

I’ll use the people layer as the example - first clipping mask layer is set to soft light, at a low opacity, and I used purple with a soft brush to add some shadows.

Next is another low-opacity soft light layer - yellow and purple, with a watercolor brush, to add a bit of texture. It’s very very faint on the people layer (you can barely see it, honestly) but recreating it for the background levels I turned up the opacity a bit more.

And the last clipping layer is set to high-opacity overlay, painting on pink with another big soft brush. I like how sharper shadows and highlights look but they take up a lot of time so I almost never do them in comics. And I like the kind of glowy look that less-exact soft round brushes add.

8. And that’s the people layer done! Because I wanted the same colors throughout, I did the same set of clipping masks for each of the other two grey layers. but this is also a really quick way to color something like my comic cursed - if you want the people to be one color and the background another, or the small panels to be a different color then the big panels, just add a clipping mask set to color/hue/overlay/whatever else works over the grey layer in question and fill it with the color you want.

anyway! here’s the small panels with the same treatment, and then the background with the same treatment.

9. That’s highlights, shadows, and some basic color all set! The last thing is adding some additional soft light/overlay/etc layers on top of everything, filling them with different colors, and seeing what works. I want to get rid of the last of the grey, and unify the page’s color scheme a little more. 

full disclosure: I have absolutely no idea what most of the layer settings actually DO. it’s a mystery. I’ll cycle through different settings with different colors and I am surprised pretty much every time by what happens.

What I ended up with for this comic was a layer of mid-opacity light grey, set to screen, which lightened the page a little:

Then above that a mid-opacity layer set to color burn, this one filled a pale blue. Now the remaining greys are more bluish, which is closer to what I wanted:

But still not quite the right atmosphere. So above that there’s a low-opacity vivid light layer, filled with the same purple I used for shadows. Now the color’s pretty much perfect.

But it looks a little dark, and the pink has been toned down by the cool-colored layers. So one final layer, on top of everything: soft light, full opacity, using a big soft round brush to add the same pink in places I want to be brighter.

And that’s the final page! The linework still takes a while, but I’ve pared coloring down to pretty much just clipping masks, haphazard soft brush application of colors, and dicking around with layer settings. I hope this is useful!

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter IX

Author's Note: Hi, all! So, I'd just like to inform you guys that I made some small tweaks in the previous chapters. But I didn't make any major changes. The details I added and/or changed don't impact the storyline or the plot, so there's no cause for concern on that score. Lol.

I also changed that time-stamp format. For better clarity, the format is this: Current Year (Current Month) [e.g. Year 847 (11th Month)]

Anyway, here's Chapter 9! Hope that you like it!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

Also available on Ao3! Please feel free to leave your comments and thoughts on that site! Check out the "Archive of Our Own" tab on my page to go to the site!

Chapter 9: Letters, Sketches, and Guns

Summary: Levi writes to his mother about the upcoming break. Meanwhile, Hange and Moblit make an usual discovery while they're on another research expedition. At the Cadets Corps Headquarters, Bertolt Hoover is asked for shooting advice.

Year 847 (11th Month)

---

Dear Mother,

I am doing well, and so is Mikasa. I’m also looking forward to seeing you and the old man during the Yuletide break. I’ll be departing for Mitras on the last day of the second week of next month. I'll catch a morning ferry, so you can expect me before noontime on that day.

And speaking of Mikasa, she told me that she won’t be able to come with me when I return to the clan compound. She and her parents have planned to spend the break in Orvud, and she will travel directly to the district to meet them there. She apologizes for being unable to accept your invitation for dinner and hopes to meet you at some other time.

I hope that you two are also doing well. I will see you both in less than a month.

Your son,

Levi

Levi has just finished signing the letter when the door to their office opens.

“Are you ready to go?” Mikasa asks as she enters.

“Just about.” He says while giving the letter a once-over.

“A letter to your mother?”

Levi nods. "Yeah. I'm going to drop this at the post office while we're in town." He replies, giving the letter a once-over.

Mikasa moves to sit on the divan as she waits for him to finish his task. “Did you mention that I couldn’t accept her invitation?”

“I did.” He confirms while taking out an envelope from his drawer.

Yesterday, Levi had received a letter from his mother. The Ackerman matriarch had written that she was looking forward to seeing her son during the break and that she would like Mikasa to join them for dinner when they return to Mitras.

Mikasa had been delighted at the invitation but unfortunately had to decline. The week before, she and her parents had written to each other to confirm their plans for the break. They agreed that they'd meet one another at Orvud instead of assembling at their estate in Mitras to save time. Had the invitation been for another occasion and at another time, she would have happily accepted.

She fidgets with the knot of her cravat as she watches him scrawl the name and address on the back of the envelope. “I really am sorry for snubbing her invite.”

“You’re not snubbing her." He comments while placing some wax on the envelope to seal it. "You already made plans with your parents, and you haven't seen them in a long time. I understand.”

The Survey Corps had been working relentlessly to get back on its feet after the breach of Wall Maria during the middle of the year 845 and the failed operation to retake it in 846 – and that meant forsaking their usual leave during the Yuletide season during the said years. But now that things have calmed down a bit and they have a working strategy, everyone in the regiment is looking forward to the break; it's an opportunity to get real rest, revive morale, and reconnect with loved ones.

Levi knows how much Mikasa is looking forward to reuniting with her parents, and no one can blame anyone for wanting to see their families again.

He stamps the wax before looking up to face her. “And my mother will understand too. Don’t worry about it.”

Mikasa relaxes at his assurance. “I promise that I’ll make it up to her. I really do wish to meet her soon.”

Levi smiles a bit. “I’m going to hold you to that.” He then lets a few moments pass to let the wax dry. Once it is, he places it in his satchel.

“Okay, I’m good to go.” He announces as he rises from his desk. “Let’s hope that they have stocks of bleach this time around.”

Mikasa makes an amused sound; she remembers how displeased he was when their local retail goods supplier didn't have any bleach the last time they went on a supply run.

“Don’t worry. If they don’t, we’ll just make my mother’s cleanser again.” She remarks as she stands up and slings her own bag over her shoulder.

He smirks. “What will I ever do without you?”

She mirrors his expression. “Oh, you’d be completely lost.” She quips as they exit the office.

---

Through the glass of his telescope, Moblit observes as a 10-meter Titan wanders aimlessly around the ruins of the Nivas district.

On the floors above and below him, other members of the Research division are likewise peering through the windows of the 30-meter tower to watch the movements of different Titans.

Behind the Executive Officer is his Section Commander who is rummaging through copies of old records of Titan sightings dating back to several decades ago. The Titan-scientist sits on an old desk in the middle of the room and is currently comparing their most recent observations with past accounts made by the Survey Corps soldiers who had preceded them.

Moblit’s eye continues to trail the 10-meter’s movement through his telescope. Holding the telescope stand with one hand while moving the actual scope with the other, he watches as it passes by other Titans until it reaches a gangly-looking 12-meter.

The Executive Officer lets out a surprised sound when he watches the 10-meter place its head on the shoulder of the taller Titan. His astonishment increases when he sees the 12-meter wrapping its arms around the shorter Titan.

“Section Commander!” He calls out, telescope and eye still trained on the two embracing Titans. “You have to see this!”

Some papers rustle and fly off the table as the Titan-scientist immediately goes running to his side.

“See what?!” They squeal as they grab a spare collapsible telescope from the nearby supply bag.

Moblit gives them a few directions to follow his line of sight. “Do you see it now?”

Hange gasps as they take in the sight of the hugging Titans; the two giants continue to embrace while other Titans walk past them. “They’re holding each other!” Their shoulders start to tremble with excitement. “It’s as if they’re comforting each other!”

The Section Commander then holds the telescope to their chest with both arms. “It’s such a beautiful sight, don’t you think, Moblit?!” They exclaim, cheeks flushed. “The Titans are exhibiting empathic human-like behavior!”

Still peering through the telescope, Moblit grabs a pen and paper pad and starts to draw the sight. “Yes, Section Commander.”

Hange laughs gleefully. “Aberrants have exhibited degrees of intelligence before but never emotional capacity!”

They then dash back towards the desk and begin writing. “This is the Research team’s first major breakthrough!”

The pen strokes of the Titan-scientist can barely match the pace of their continuous monologue. “Since the establishment of the Research division, we’ve only observed typical Titan behavior! We’ve seen some minor nuances among Titans, such as delayed reaction time and total lack of response on some occasions. But nothing as remarkable as this!”

Hange flips onto another page to continue writing, their strokes becoming even more frantic. “The display of empathetic behavior connotes the possibility of having other emotions. Is it possible that Titans also feel anger? Do they feel furious whenever one of their own is slain by us? What serves as emotional stimuli for them? What could have caused one Titan to seek comfort from another?”

At this point, the ink of their pen starts to bleed through the paper. “How is it that the other Titan is cognizant of the other’s possible emotional pain? This type of cognizance indicates intelligence that goes beyond mere survival instincts.”

Their voice starts to become more excited and more frustrated at the same time. “While this is a major breakthrough, more studies need to be conducted. This singular instance is not enough to determine the full extent of their emotional and intellectual capacity. If the Survey Corps can definitively determine a consistent behavioral pattern, then such knowledge would be invaluable in the fight against the Titans.”

As the Section Commander continues to speak about how the discovery is a great stride in humanity’s quest to vanquish the Titans, Moblit continues to capture the Titans on paper, shifting his attention from the telescope’s eye and to the sketch pad every now and then.

As he continues to draw, he notes with ongoing astonishment that the taller Titan now appears to be slowly patting the head of the other one.

Once he's done, he stands up and presents his finished sketch. “I’ve sketched the Titans for our records.”

Hange abruptly pauses in their writing and practically snatches the sketch pad from his outstretched hands.

“Moblit…” They say as their goggled eyes scan every inked line and curve of the drawing, “… this is so accurate… and so beautiful!”

He makes a partly exasperated sigh at the adoring way his superior looks at the illustration before picking up the pieces of paper that had fluttered to the floor.

While he re-arranges the pages in chronological order – which proves to be quite challenging since they aren’t numbered, he looks over the Section Commander’s latest writings.

He scans the initial analyses penned in hurried scribbles; as his eyes read the passage about emotional capacity, the image of the 12-meter patting the head of the 10-meter comes to his mind.

Moblit stops reading mid-sentence as an idea occurs to him.

"Section Commander…" He calls out to his superior, who's still gaping at the sketch, “I’d like to relay my take on this recent discovery.”

"Go on," Hange says, even though their eyes are still trained on the drawing.

“As you said, embracing is a display of empathetic behavior.” He begins to explain while compiling the papers on the desk, “And that it also connotes emotional capacity. While I was still sketching, I noticed that the taller Titan kept patting the head of the other one. It makes me think that the two could be familiar with each other.”

At that, the Titan-scientist snaps their head up towards him.

"Are you suggesting that they may be friends?”

He nods. “I am. And if they do have some sort of connection, then it could mean that Titans can form bonds with another.”

Hange gasps as they process the analysis. “That’s definitely an angle worth exploring!” Their eyes bulge as numerous possibilities and implications run through their mind. “We should make that a priority point of examination in our future research excursions!”

Without warning, Hange abruptly moves forward to wrap their arms around him. “Moblit, you are a genius!” They squeal giddily, “Thank you!”

Moblit yelps as he momentarily staggers backward before regaining his balance. “Section Commander, a little warning would be nice!”

The Titan-scientist merely laughs before raising their head to face the Executive Officer.

“But seriously, though. Thank you.” They say in a much calmer tone. “Everyone in the Research team is great, and so is everyone in our main combat Division. But not everyone has the willpower to keep up with me when it comes to studying Titans.”

Hange then gives him a smile, and Moblit notes that it’s not their usual near-manic grin that they make whenever they discuss Titans. “I don’t think I say it enough, but I really do appreciate your patience with me, Moblit. I’m really glad that I have you.”

The Executive Officer’s exasperated demeanor softens at that.

“Of course, Section Commander. I may not share your… enthusiasm,” he says after thinking of an appropriate term to use, “but I do strongly agree with you that having a better understanding of Titans is vital to eliminating them.”

The Titan-Scientist squeezes his shoulders in appreciation. “I’m glad that I can count on you.”

After a moment, their zealousness returns to their features, and they move back to their desk. “Our patience finally paid off!”

Moblit finds himself smiling at that. Every research expedition always entailed the same thing: observing Titans from the tower for several hours every day until the last day allotted for the expedition. Fortunately, each research excursion doesn’t last more than 5 days – even Hange understands that watching Titans for prolonged periods of time is impractical given that the giants don’t usually exhibit significantly odd behavior on most days.

It's tedious most of the time. Yet, everyone in the Research division understands the significance of their work.

Hange starts to jot down more notes. “Mikasa’s plan for us made this possible! Oh, I’ll have to share the good news with her and Levi when we get back! Maybe they can even help me come up with an idea to capture a Titan alive for closer observation!”

The smile on Moblit’s face disappears as his jaw practically drops to the floor. “Section Commander, one crazy idea at a time!”

---

Bullets ring in quick succession as he aims and shoots. He keeps his grip on the rifle steady as he quickly strides sideways, eyes locked on the centers of each target in front of him.

The task becomes harder as each successive target is placed several yards away from the last. But he doesn't falter. The thought of his ailing father helps him time each shot perfectly, ensuring that each bullet is right on the mark.

When he hits the last target, the instructor blows their whistle. He stands in attention when Commander Magath inspects the results of his work.

Once done, the Commander approaches him. Once his superior stops a few feet before him, he raises his right hand, palm facing outward, in salute. At the officer’s nod, he places it down.

“Well done, Hoover.” The Commander announces. “Your marksmanship is extraordinary. You hit every target in the center without fail. If you continue to perform like this, you will be able to serve Marley well in due time. You are closer to absolving yourself of the sins of your ancestors."

His classmates, who had been watching the entire time, erupt in applause. They murmur praises and make comments that they too could do as well as him.

“It will be my honor to serve Marley, Commander Magath, sir!” He proclaims, right hand raised in salute once again.

---

“Bertolt was amazing today!” Reiner exclaims to the vendor as they buy some cream-coated bread. “He got the top marks during our shooting class!”

The woman behind the stall smiles as she gives each boy a large loaf. “Is that so? Well, I’m sure that old Mr. Hoover will be especially proud of you, Bertolt.” She directs her attention to the taller of the two.

Bertolt merely smiles. “I just did what I had to do.” He replies before his eyes take in the array of stalls and booths lining up the sidewalks of Liberio’s streets. “I see that all of you are already preparing for the Yuletide festival, Mrs. Grice.”

“We're really excited about it!” Reiner says as he chews on his bread. “I can’t wait to try all the games and all the food!”

“Our break starts in two days, Reiner.” Bertolt points out, amused. “I think you can wait until then.”

---

An hour after sundown finds the two Warrior candidates parting ways when they leave to go back to their respective homes.

After making a few turns, Bertolt eventually reaches the front door of their humble abode.

“I’m home!” He announces as he unslings his bag.

“Bertolt!” An older man’s voice rings throughout the hall before his elderly father comes out of his room. “I’ve been waiting for you for years!”

Bertolt laughs at the joke. “Oh, come on, Dad. I'm only half an hour late! Reiner and I just wanted to stop by the main plaza to see how the festival preparations were going."

“You’ve been gone for years!” His father keeps saying, as if he didn’t hear him. “Commander Magath told us that they couldn’t disclose the details of your mission no matter how much me, Mrs. Braun, and Mr. Leonhart begged.”

The older man sighs before a weary smile forms on his lips.

“But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you’re finally home and that you did your duty to Marley!”

Bertolt could only stare at his father in confusion. And if he wasn’t perplexed already, the weather outside their window rapidly changes: one second, it was fair weather; the next, it was an unforgiving storm, and then it suddenly toned down to a gentle downpour.

---

The moment he opens his eyes, he sees Eren, Jean, and Connie arguing. Behind them are the other cadets of their division.

As he blinks the sleep away, Bertolt wonders why they are all upside-down.

"I'm telling you guys that there's going to be a storm!" Eren says. "I mean, his legs are propped up against the wall!

“Yeah, but they’re crossed!” Jean counters. “I still say that it’s the ‘fair weather’ position. But I’m willing to concede that it might be cloudy today at most.”

Connie re-joins the conversation. "I'm willing to meet you guys halfway by saying that there's going to be a mild drizzle. I mean, his head is turned to the side."

Since he is still gathering his bearings, it took listening to their arguments for Bertolt to realize that he must have ended up in another odd sleeping position again.

“Actually, his head isn’t turned to the side anymore.” Armin chimes in, looking at their fellow cadet with an apologetic smile. “Good morning, Bertolt.”

Bertolt blinks once before the image of his family’s living room is replaced by the men’s barracks of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters.

“Morning, guys.” He finally says.

---

“Alright, Braus!” Commandant Shadis shouts. “Let’s see how you did.”

Sasha stands in attention as the Commandant moves to the front of the shooting range to examine the targets she shot at.

All the cadets watch as their superior walks by each target, jotting down notes on his clipboard to give each hit a corresponding score. Once he passes by the last target, he walks towards Sasha, who stands even straighter.

“You hit each target dead in the center!” The Commandant announces loudly for everyone to hear. “You get full marks! Good work, Braus!”

Sasha puffs her chest proudly as the other cadets behind cheer and clap. “Thank you, Sir!” She raised her right fist to her chest in salute.

Shadis nods in acknowledgment before dismissing her. Once his assistant officers have replaced all the used targets with new ones, he calls the next cadet on his list. “Hoover! You’re next!”

Bertolt moves forward to the racks where fully loaded rifles stand. Grabbing one, he makes his way to the starting line at the farthest left of the shooting range. He then lifts his rifle, eyes trained on the first target.

“On my signal!” The Commandant announces as he raises his whistle to his lips. He lets a few seconds pass before he blows it.

Bertolt immediately fires the moment he hears it. His long legs stride at a quick pace as he locks onto the center of each succeeding target before shooting his mark.

The other cadets watch with wide eyes and even gaping mouths as they watch their tall, dark-haired classmate practically run while simultaneously landing shots onto each target regardless of how far away it is.

When he finishes, Bertolt quietly stands in attention while waiting for the Commandant to inspect his work.

Shadis merely looks at the targets in subdued shock before he snaps out of his stupor.

“Alright, Hoover!” He addresses the cadet. “You finished quickly, but let’s see how accurate your shots were!”

The officer then marches towards the targets to examine the targets, scribbling a score for each hit.

He then returns to the other side of the firing lane, eyes still trained on his clipboard.

“Hoover!” Shadis calls out once he raises his head. "Not only were you able to finish this shooting course faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, but you also managed to hit every target in the center!”

The cadets in the back clap and cheer again, although there are more awed murmurs than earlier.

“Good work!” The Commandant continues. “If you keep this up, you’ll definitely be an asset to humanity!”

On reflex, Bertolt promptly raises his right arm. But as he is about to open his hand, he suddenly realizes his mistake and encloses it into a fist before stiffly placing it over his chest.

Shadis raises a brow slightly at the awkward movement of his arm but doesn’t comment on it.

"It will be an honor to fight for humanity, Sir!" The moment the words leave his mouth, he feels a hollow ache in his chest.

---

“Did you see how fast he was?!” Connie remarks, voice clearly awe-struck. “I’ve never seen anyone shoot and run that quickly before!”

“Bertolt was incredible!” Sasha concurs, plain admiration evident on her face. “I wish I could go as fast as him!”

As the others around him continue to make praises, Reiner frowns at his friend’s near mistake; he had nearly performed the Marleyan salute. Reiner briefly muses that even he had executed the full salute, no one else would have even understood its significance except for him, Bertolt, and Annie. Nonetheless, it was still concerning.

“Hey, Reiner!” Eren calls out to the broad-shouldered blonde. “Did Bertolt go hunting a lot when you guys were kids?”

“Hm?” Reiner hums distractedly before turning to the green-eyed recruit. “Oh, yeah. Bert’s always been a natural with a gun.”

---

“Bertolt, you were amazing!”

The cadet in question looks up when he sees Sasha making her way towards him. Behind her are Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

“Thanks, Sasha.” Bertolt smiles at the compliment.

“Seriously though, you were really great out there!” Connie adds as they join Bertolt and Reiner at their table.

The morning had turned into noon, and now, they will have lunch outside before the afternoon leg of their training starts.

“Reiner here said that you used to go hunting when you were younger as well.” The Braus girl continues to engage him in conversation, her eyes rapt with curiosity. “Did you always use a gun, or did you use a bow and arrow, too?

"Oh, I just stuck to my guns," Bertolt says with a slight laugh. “Our hometown was always more big on them.”

Sasha grins at the response. “Well, cheers to us hunters for doing well in the shooting course!” She lifts a hand and offers it to him. “Up top!”

The dark-haired cadet briefly hesitates but eventually slaps his palm against hers. “Up top!”

“Say, Bertolt…” Jean starts to say as the other cadet lowers his right arm. “What was up with your arm earlier?”

The question causes Bertolt to silently berate himself for almost performing the wrong salute after nearly a year of being a soldier instead of a Warrior.

“Oh…” He trails off as he thinks of a plausible excuse, “My arm cramped up a bit earlier.” He says, half-embarrassed at how awkward it sounds.

“W-what?” The question comes out as a laugh from Jean.

Reiner gauges the similarly mildly amused reactions of the others. Thankfully, they have no reason to not believe it, and Bertolt’s embarrassed tone only gives the excuse more credibility.

“I keep telling you, Bert.” The broad-shouldered blonde interjects, helping with the ruse, “You should spend more time stretching your arms.”

“Yeah!” Connie re-joins the conversation. “You spend way too much time working on your legs! It’s not like you need to get taller!

Everyone turns to the shaven-headed cadet with incredulous and even more amused-looking looks.

“Connie… stretching your legs won't make you taller," Marco says tentatively.

“I know that! But the straighter you stand, the taller you look!” Connie exclaims, “And Bertolt is tall enough as it is!”

Everyone at the table laughs, including Bertolt, who feels relieved at the re-direction of the conversation.

“Anyway… Sasha, Bertolt…” Armin begins once the laughter toned down. “Eren and I wanted to ask if you guys could give us some shooting pointers during the free period before dinner time.”

“Why would you guys want shooting pointers?” Connie asks, looking surprised and confused. “It’s not like you’re gonna fight Titans with rifles.”

Eren nods his head. “That’s true. But Reiner taught us that a soldier should be prepared for anything.” He explains, looking at their burly classmate with a small grin. “Because you never know what kind of situation you might find yourself in.”

Some weeks ago, while he was practicing offensive hand-to-hand combat techniques with Armin and Reiner under the watchful eye of their Commandant, the brunette cadet made negative comments about undergoing training exercises unrelated to Titan combat.

In response, Reiner had chastised him for his dismissive attitude while lecturing him that a soldier must be well-equipped under any circumstances. And what drove the point home for him was Reiner’s statement that a person who can’t defend themself can’t defend others. It was then that he decided to take those words to heart.

Eren’s obvious determination and quiet enthusiasm coaxes a smile from Reiner. “I’m glad to see that you’re taking my advice seriously.”

“Of course!” Eren grins even more widely, encouraged by the show of approval, “You’re the best cadet here! I’d be an idiot not to listen to you!”

The broad-shouldered cadet lets out a laugh. “Well, it’s definitely good that you’re working hard with that kind of mindset.”

“Well, when you guys put it like that, I want in!” Connie says. “After all, shooting is gonna come in handy when I join the Military Police!”

“Hmmm.” Jean hums contemplatively as he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I’m already a pretty good shot.” He comments lightly. “But I suppose sharpening my aim couldn’t hurt. Especially if it gives me an edge as an MP.”

Eren rolls his eyes. “You know, Jean, you could just say that you want to join us.”

Jean’s eye twitches slightly in annoyance. “Oh, just let me brag every now and then, Eren.”

“Oh, please. I let you do that every day.”

"Now, hold on." Marco intercedes. "Sasha and Bertolt haven’t even agreed to anything yet.” He points out, noting that their best shooters had yet to get a word in.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing some tips!” Sasha says cheerily. “Plus, I could definitely learn something from Bertolt, too. I could use some advice on how to gain more speed without compromising accuracy!” She adds as she turns to him. “So, how about it, Bertolt?”

Bertolt looks at their eager and expectant faces, and he finds himself unable to turn them down.

“Sure.” Although he offers another smile, it’s strained at the edges.

Thankfully, no one notices except for Reiner.

After a few more minutes, the cooks arrive with their lunch and call for everyone to line up for their meals.

Sasha immediately dashes to the serving table while everyone else moves at a more moderate pace.

“Aren’t you guys coming?” Marco looks at Reiner and Bertolt who remain sitting.

“We’ll wait until the lines shorten," Reiner replies, gesturing to the long queues.

Once they’re alone at the table, Reiner heaves a deep sigh and places a hand on Bertolt’s shoulder. When the latter turns his head, Reiner levels him with a concerned and understanding look.

“I miss our hometown too.” The blonde states, having deduced the reason for his old friend’s near slip-up earlier. “And I know that it’s getting harder; I’m also getting tired.” He admits quietly. “But we can’t stop now. We’ve come this far.”

Mina, Thomas, and some other cadets hear him as they pass by with plates of food but don't think twice about his words.

Yet, Bertolt, knowing what they really mean, takes a deep breath to internally steady himself.

“I know, Reiner.”

---

End Note: Okay, so I'd like to apologize to anyone who was hoping that Mikasa would meet Kuchel in this chapter. I'm sorry for letting you guys down. But I promise that they will meet eventually! Hehe.

So, this chapter has three (3) storylines: the RivaMika storyline, the Hange-researching storyline, and the 104th storyline. I know that it might seem like a lot for just one chapter. But I really wanted to start delving into the other important aspects of the AOT universe to build up what I have in mind for the second part of this series. (But the series is mainly RivaMika-centric. Hahaha.) Again, it's gonna take time for me to really flesh-out my ideas. So, please bear with me and my irregular updates. Hahahuhu.

Please let me know what you think! Also, happy holidays in advance!

[onigiriico]

Osora Interview translation (pt.2)

(printed in AnimaniA 4/2018, p.58 - 61 / interview originally given in March 2018 at the Manga-Comic-Con in Leipzig, Germany)

( pt.1 )

The Internet offers Let’s Players, but also all kinds of artists an opportunity for very direct communication with their fans. However, this can also have its downsides when it comes to potentially negative feedback. How do you deal with this issue?

—Sometimes you just stumble across negative feedback that you didn’t want to see, and that can chip away at your motivation and creativity. I try to prevent that by not really looking at reactions in the first place, and when I do happen to see negative feedback, I try to forget about it again as soon as possible. Of course, when I start a new series, I’m curious about the readers’ reactions and go looking for feedback, but if eight out of ten comments are very positive and two are negative, I still tend to get stuck thinking about those two negative comments. There even was a time when that negative feedback made me feel too depressed to draw for a couple of days. But the more often this happens, the more you learn to deal with this criticism. I can stomach it pretty well by now, and I think it’s important to not let negative feedback get to you.

Did your experience regarding interactions with readers change much from Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai to The Ones WIthin?

—Digital publications receive a lot more feedback than series that are only released in print - be it via email or via Twitter. Twitter is the main source of comments. With Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai, there was much less of a response, and the feedback that we did get was usually in the form of letters. Since readers had to buy the magazine first and then go out of their way to send a letter, that was a lot more complicated. (T/N: i.e. it takes more time to write/send a whole letter than to just send a tweet)

How do you handle responding to messages from your readers? For example, do you set specific times for yourself to reply?

—Since I get the most reader interaction on Twitter, I try to answer questions and comments there when I find the time for it. I always do that myself because I want to respond to my fans in my own words. That doesn’t feel like extra work to me, but rather like a pleasant change of pace. Aside from my personal account, there’s also the official account for The Ones Within, which is mostly for promotional use. My editor retweets my tweets there and forwards any questions that get asked there to me.

Could you describe your usual daily routine when working on The Ones Within?

—I’m a night owl, so I usually get up rather late at around 10 am. After that, I basically work in two rounds. The first lasts the entire day and ends in the evening, around dinner time. Then I take a short break, and the second round starts at around 9 pm and ends at roughly 2 am. If I’m close to a deadline, I sometimes just continue drawing until I pass out. (lol) I never take much time to eat at that point, either.

What advantages are there to drawing digitally in comparison to drawing traditionally?

—Oh, there’s a lot - especially how easy it is to make corrections and adjustments. Your work space is neater and other people can’t stare as easily at what you’re drawing. There’s no need to erase sketches or apply screentones by hand (T/N: see here how screentones are applied traditionally, it’s definitely faster digitally lol), so there’s not as many work steps either and you can finish your work even on your own [without assistants]. And since it’s all data anyway, it’s easy to save as well.

Do you have any advice for artists who are just starting to work digitally?

—Practice makes perfect! I used to have a private page online where I more or less kept a drawing diary, all about original characters. I still kind of do the same thing on Twitter nowadays. It’s important to keep at it and actually draw on a daily basis, that way you’ll get used to it. There’s also live streams from artists on Pixiv and Twitter - it’s helpful to watch those and adapt parts of their progress for your own work.

You’ve shown us a picture of one of your notebooks that you use to jot down your ideas - where do you usually come up with these? (*picture under the cut at the bottom of the post)

—There’s two main places where I tend to draw spontaneously. For one, on the train - usually after meetings with my editor. I can best sort out my thoughts right after those meetings and save some first ideas. Secondly, in bed, right before going to sleep. Ideas flow really easily when you’re sleepy and letting your thoughts wander. Also, I’d feel like I’m wasting my time if I did nothing and just waited to fall asleep, so instead I imagine as many scenarios as possible and jot down the best ones. When I come up with something I especially like, I might also get up again and draw it digitally right away. (lol) I don’t take my notebooks with me everywhere I go, though.

Both Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai and The Ones Within combine dark, mysterious elements with more comedic ones. How do you find a balance between these two aspects, and what do you like so much about combining these opposites?

—I like both comedy and serious plots, so I wanted to draw both - in the end, I combined the two without really thinking much about it. I usually just let this come to me naturally while I’m drawing too, although I do keep the timing in mind. For example, it wouldn’t be appropriate to make a joke in the middle of a sad or serious scene, and vice versa. So, I take care not to destroy the atmosphere that I’m trying to convey [in each given scene].

Personally, which character from The Ones Within is your favorite?

—I can’t really “rank” my characters because I love them all! Going by who’s the easiest to draw, it would be Anya. He’s a pretty straight-forward type, so he’s easy to understand. He’s also the only one who looks angry a lot of the time and has eye bags… and his accessories, like the helmet, his iron bar or the chewing gum - they make him stand out and thus easy to draw.

Do you already have an ending planned for The Ones Within or do you still have a few options to choose from?

—The ending is already planned out!

Do you maybe already have a new project in the works that you would like to tell us about?

—For now, I’m just really happy that The Ones Within is getting an anime adaptation and I can finally talk about it, now that it’s getting officially announced this May! I can’t wait to see my characters animated on the screen!

A final word to your fans?

—Thank you so much for reading my manga! There are so many Japanese manga series out there, and I’m really happy that you chose to read mine out of all of them. The Ones Within is getting an anime adaptation, and of course the manga is still ongoing as well, so I hope you will stick around and enjoy it until the end. Thank you!

Osora-sensei, thank you very much for the interview!

I tried to decipher these but the picture was too small to read much sadly agdjsdvhs

The bigger page seems to be some Kudou bros goodness? They seem to be talking about Shinya having Kenya's piercings (and maybe about Anya getting piercings as well, considering his very resolute "I don't want to." lol) and they're also mentioning ramen at some point from what I can decipher

And the bottom right looks like some kind of character relationship chart / worldbuilding notes,,,

[roaringgirl]

Books read in January

I am keeping this as a little record for myself, as I already keep a list (my best new year’s resolution - begun Jan 2018) but don’t record my thoughts

General thoughts on this - I read a lot this month but it played into my worst tendencies to read very very fast and not reflect, something I’m particularly prone too with modern fiction. I just, so to speak, swallow it without thinking. First 5 or so entries apart, I did quite well in my usually miserably failed attempt to have my reading be at least half books by women.

1. John le Carré - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1974): I liked this a lot! I sort of lost track of the Cold War and shall we say ethics-concerned parts of it and ended up reading a fair bit of it as an English comedy of manners - but I absolutely love all the bizarre rules about what is in bad taste (are these real? Did le Carré make them up?).

2. John le Carré - The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (1963): I liked this a lot less. It seemed at the same time wilfully opaque and entirely predictable. Have been thinking a lot about genre fiction - I love westerns and noir, so wonder if for me British genre fiction doesn’t quite scratch the same itch.

3. David Lodge - Ginger You’re Barmy (1962): This was fine. I don’t have much to say about it - I was interested in reading about National Service and a bit bogged down in a history of it so read a novel. As with most comic novels, it was perfectly readable but not very funny.

4. Dan Simmons - Song of Kali (1985): His first novel. This is quite enjoyable just for the amount of Grand Guignol gore, and also because I like to imagine it caused the Calcutta tourist board some consternation. Wildly structurally flawed, however. Best/worst quote: ‘Hearing Amrita speak was like being stroked by a firm but well-oiled palm.’ Continues in that vein.

5. Richard Vinen - National Service: A Generation in Uniform (2014): If you are interested in National Service, this is a good overview! If not, not.

6. Sarah Moss - Ghost Wall (2018): I absolutely loved this. About a camping trip trying to recreate Iron Age Britain. Just, very upsetting but so so good - a horror story where the horror is male violence and abuse within the (un)natural family unit.

7. Kate Grenville - A Room Made of Leaves (2020): Excellent idea, but not amazing execution - the style is kind of bland in that ‘ironed out in MFA workshops’ way (I have no idea if she did an MFA but that’s what it felt like). Rewriting the story of early Australian colonisation through the POV of John Macarthur’s wife Elizabeth.

8. Ruth Goodman - How to Be a Victorian (2013): I mostly read this for Terror fic reasons, if I’m honest. I skimmed a lot of it but she has a charming authorial voice and I really like that she covers the beginning of the period, not just post-1870.

9. Gary Shteyngart - Super Sad True Love Story (2010): I read this on a recommendation from Ms Poose after I asked for good fiction mostly concerned with the internet, and I thought it was excellent - it’s very exaggerated/non-realistic and that heightening of incident and affect works so well.

10. Brenda Wineapple - The Impeachers: The Trial of Andrew Johnson and the Dream of a Just Nation (2019): What a great book. I had to keep putting it down because reading about Reconstruction always makes me so sad and frustrated with what might have been - the lost dream of a better world.

11. Halle Butler - The New Me (2019): Reading this while single, starting antidepressants and stuck in an office job that bores me to death but is too stable/undemanding to complain about maybe wasn’t a great decision, for me, emotionally.

12. Halle Butler - Jillian (2015): Ditto.

13. Ottessa Moshfegh - Death in Her Hands (2020): Very disappointed by this. I don’t really like meta-fiction unless it’s really something special and this wasn’t. Also, I’m stupid and really bad at reading, like, postmodern allegorical fiction I just never get it.

14. Andrea Lawlor  - Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl (2017): This was really really hot! I will admit I don’t think the reflections on gender, homophobia, AIDS etc are very deep or as revealing as some reviews made out, but I also don’t think they’re supposed to be? It’s a lot of fun and all of the characters in it are so precisely, fondly but meanly sketched.

15. Catherine Lacey - The Answers (2017): This was fine! Readable, enjoyable, but honestly it has not stuck with me. There are only so many sad girl dystopias you can read and I think I overdid it with them this month.

16. Hilary Mantel - Wolf Hall (2010, reread): Was supposed to read the first 55 pages of this for my two-person book club, but I completely lack self-restraint so reread the whole thing in four days. Like, I love it I don’t really know what else to say. I was posing for years that ‘Oh, Mantel’s earlier novels are better, they’re such an interesting development of Muriel Spark and the problem of evil and farce’ blah blah blah but nope, this is great.

17. Oisin Fagan - Hostages (2016): Book of short stories that I disliked intensely, which disappointed me because I tore through Nobber in horrified fascination (his novel set in Ireland during the Black Death - which I really cannot recommend enough. It’s so intensely horrible but, like Mantel although in a completely different style/method, he has the trick of not taking the past on modern terms). A lot of this is sci-fi dystopia short stories which just aren’t... very good or well-sustained. BUT I did appreciate it because it is absolutely the opposite of pleasant, competently-written but forgettable MFA fiction.

18. Muriel Spark - Loitering with Intent (1981): Probably my least favourite Spark so far, but still good. I think the Ealing Comedy-esque elements of her style are most evident and most dated here. It just doesn’t have the same sentence-by-sentence sting as most of her work, and again I don’t like meta-fiction.

19. Hilary Mantel - Bring up the Bodies (2012, reread): Having (re)read all of these in about 3 months, I think this is probably my favourite of the three. I just love the way a whole world, whole centuries and centuries of history and society spiral out from every paragraph. And just stylistically, how perfect - every sentence is a cracker. I’m just perpetually in awe of Mantel as a prose stylist (although I dislike that everyone seems to write in the present tense now and blame her for it).

20. Muriel Spark - The Girls of Slender Means (1963, reread): (TW weight talk etc ) As always, Hilary Mantel sets me off on a Muriel Spark spree. I’ve read this too many times to say much about it other than that the denouement always makes me go... my hips definitely wouldn’t fit through that window. Maybe I should lose weight in case I have to crawl out of a bathroom window due to a fire caused by an unexploded bomb from WW2???? Which is a wild throwback to my mentality as a 16 year old.

21. China Mieville - Perdido Street Station (2000, reread): What a lot of fun. I know we don’t do steampunk anymore BUT I do like that he got in the whole economic and justice system of the early British Industrial Revolution and not just like steam engines. God, maybe I should read more sci-fi. Maybe I should reread the rest of this trilogy but that’s like 2000 pages. Maybe I should reread the City and the City because at least that’s short and ties exactly into my Disco Elysium obsession (the mod I downloaded to unlock all dialogue keeps breaking the game though. Is there a script online???)

22. Stephen King - Carrie (1974): I have a confession to make: I was supposed to teach this to one of my tutees and then just never read it, but to be honest we’re still doing basic reading comprehension anyway. That sounds mean but she’s very sweet and I love teaching her because she gets perceptibly less intimidated/critical of herself every lesson. ANYWAY I read half of this in the bath having just finished my period, which I think was perfect. It’s fun! Stephen King is fun! I don’t have anything deeper to say.

23. Hilary Mantel - Every Day is Mother’s Day (1985): You can def tell this is a first novel because it doesn’t quite crackle with the same demonic energy as like, An Experiment in Love or Beyond Black, but all the recurring themes are there. If it were by anyone else I’d be like good novel! But it’s not as good as her other novels.

24. Dominique Fortier - On the Proper Usage of Stars (2010): This was... perfectly competent. Kind of dull? It made me think of what I appreciate about Dan Simmons which is how viscerally unpleasant he makes being in the Navy seem generally, and man-hauling with scurvy specifically. This had the same problem with some other FE fiction which is that they’re mostly not willing to go wild and invent enough so the whole thing is kind of diffuse and under-characterised. Although I hated the invented plucky Victorian orphan who’s great at magnetism and taxonomy and read all ONE THOUSAND BOOKS or whatever on the ships before they got thawed out at Beechey (and then the plotline just went nowhere because they immediately all died???) I had to skim all his bits in irritation. I liked the books more than this makes it sound I was just like Mr Tuesday I hope you fall down a crevasse sooner rather than later.

25. Muriel Spark - The Abbess of Crewe (1974): Transposing Watergate to an English convent is quite funny, although it took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that’s what she was doing even though I lit read a book covering Watergate in detail in December. Muriel Spark is just so, so stylish I’m always consumed with envy. I think a lot of her books don’t quite hang together as books but sentence by sentence... they’re exquisite and incomparable.

Overall thoughts: This month was very indulgent since I basically just inhaled a lot of not challenging fiction. I need to enjoy myself less, so next month we’re finishing a biography of Napoleon, reading the Woman in White and finishing the Lesser Bohemians which currently I’m struggling with since it’s like nearly as impenetrable Joyce c. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man but, so far... well I hesitate to say bad since I think once I get into I’ll be into it but. Bad.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | September 2-8

It seems this week’s rec is making up for the short one I had last week XD Enjoy!

PS: if you’re a writer/fanartist and I’ve tagged you on Tumblr, but not Twitter (or vice versa), and you have an account on both platforms, please let me know! It’s probably because I don’t know your username(s) on every platform. 

~

Complete

This Bucky with This Steve by debwalsh/ @debwalsh​ (Actors AU | 1,8K | Not rated): Ascendant star Bucky with washed up but hoping for a comeback Steve...

💙 The Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue (for Magical Creatures) by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Shrunkyclunks, witch Bucky | 5,6K | General): In which Steve Rogers stumbles across the Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue for Magical Creatures, meets a witch named Bucky, accidentally adopts a unicorn, and never wants to leave.

💙 You be yours and I'll be mine by verzacefatale/ @verzacefatale (Post-CW |13K | Explicit): “Oh, god. We got married, didn’t we?” Steve sounds like he’s trying not to panic. “Seems that way,” Bucky says, before he bursts out laughing at the bewildered look on Steve’s face. “Come on, pal. It’s not the end of the world.”

Keep Me by dixons_mama (Evanstan RPF | 1,6K | Explicit): After working endlessly on interviews for Disney, filming 355, and now attending GQ's Men of the Year event, Sebastian is tired down to his bones. Yet, he he finds himself wanting to just be near Chris.

A Pal in the Hand is Worth Two in the Jacuzzi by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,7K | Explicit): Bucky asks for Steve's help getting off, being the good friend (that's also stupidly in love) he is, Steve obliges.

Quicksand's Got No Sense of Humor by paperstorm (Canon | 2,6K | Teen):  And Steve will be okay, because he doesn’t have any other option. It’s only a million tiny cuts all over his body, his heart, his soul, slowly bleeding him dry. How could be not be okay, when Bucky’s been through so much worse. (💙 Part 1 of Under the Dome)

Through the Monsoon by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Post-CW | 3,1K | Mature): Steve’s expression is blank, empty, except for his eyes. A hardened, cold, unfeeling look is in his eyes, as they stare unseeing into the space in front of him. Bucky knows how this goes. It isn’t a regular occurrence, it's only happened a few times in the last half-year, but it isn’t good. Steve is an expert at shaking things off – which is either fortunate or unfortunate, depending on who’s asked about it – so when he can’t, it means things went really wrong. (💙 Part 3 of Under the Dome)

A Lifetime is Never Enough by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Post-CW | 3K | Mature): Bucky reaches for him with his hand, eyes still closed, and Steve curls up against his side. Bucky’s arm goes around him, fingers sliding up to tangle in Steve’s hair. The sleep-warmed skin of his neck is a heavenly place for Steve to rest his forehead, tension going out of his limbs and greedily breathing in Bucky’s smell, his warmth, the safety his bed offers. (💙 Part 4 of Under the Dome)

Chasing The Light by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Endgame fix-it | 7K | Mature): “The thing about you and me?” Bucky says, "is that the world isn’t as stubborn as we are. You’re right, I can’t promise it won’t separate us again. But I can promise we’ll find each other again if it does. Because we always do.” (💙 Part 5 of Under the Dome)

like rum on a fire by mcwho (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): “You’re the one who wanted to see how far I could push you. You know how I like to follow orders, Buck,” Steve tells him, teasing drawl to his voice because Steve Rogers has never followed a goddamn order in his goddamn life up ‘til right about now.

Flaws by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,3K | Explicit): Steve catches Bucky scrutinizing his body, and while trying to reassure him, feels and smut ensue.

Recompense by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Endgame fix-it | 2K | Not rated): When Steve Rogers travels to Vormir to return the Soul Stone, he’s greeted with an unexpected choice that will change his life.

Warmth by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 5,3K | Mature): When Bucky Barnes receives the report that there is a guy lost on his mountain, he’s not prepared for the complications that ensue.

Wheels by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 2,3K | Not rated): Teacher Steve Rogers is ready to settle into a lounger and enjoy his neighbor Natasha’s pool when he finds himself staring at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen already lounging with intent.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Shrunkyclunks | 1,6K | Teen): Steve moves into an apartment with a Captain America impersonator, and Bucky is the building super, and gets them mixed up.

💙 it takes a lot to know a man by kittyandmulder, steebadore (Modern AU |39K | Explicit): Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook."What the fuck."

Double Trouble by HeroicPinups, kittyandmulder/ @kittyandmulder​ (PWP, Steve/Bucky/Steve | 2,7K | Explicit): Bucky finds himself stuck in a super soldier sandwich. How unfortunate.

💙 time on my hands (could be time spent with you) by thedoubteriswise/ @thedoubteriswise​ (Post-CW | 23K | Mature): There’s no reason to be nervous. Steve’s just going to go see his best friend. This is Bucky, for God's sake, what could there possibly be to be nervous about? It's only been a little over a month since Bucky went under. He'd practically seen him yesterday.

~

Reading in progress

💙 Servitum by justanotherStonyfan/ @justanotherstonyfan (canon-divergent, Shrunkyclunks | 43K | Explicit): Steve's affection can be huge, almost palpable. His desire to take care of James can be overwhelming. But James can't think of a point so far where Steve's been overwhelming that he hasn't enjoyed immensely - and if they can roleplay some lifelong memories out of a spanking session, a shibari tutorial, and a carefully lit table, he's pretty sure providing Steve with the opportunity to do something he may not even be aware of wanting should go down a treat, and make for a pretty awesome afternoon. ( 💙Part 28 of the Honey Honey series)

~

WIP

💙 Cakes & Balances by mambo/ @whtaft (POTUS Steve | 16K | 8/? | Teen): It’s kind of hard to date the cute baker from down the street when you’re the President of the United States of America. But Steve Rogers will make it work.

oh the glory of it all by hitlikehammers (Post-Endgame | 4K | 1/23 | Mature): They end up stumbling almost unexpectedly into the white-picket-fence, apple-pie life they used to dream of. Except it’s not like that at all.

💙 An Escort's Guide to Navigating Tricky Work Relationships by Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90)/ @hopelessartgeek​, Mystrana/ @mystrana​ (Escort AU | 24K | 4/5 | Explicit): Steve is an outspoken leader of the fight for escort legalization. He wants to show the world that they have relationships just like everyone else, but hasn’t dated in the past five years because he’s been so busy with work. Bucky’s still not quite recovered from a bad relationship with a boyfriend who degraded his choice of work. And while he can define professional boundaries like it’s his job (it is), Bucky’s not great at handling his personal life. A story of navigating tricky work relationships.

💙 This Side of the Blue by notlucy/ @notlucy (Mermaid AU | 121K | 33/44 | Explicit): A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend. Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

💙 Political Animals by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades​, Deisderium/ @deisderium (Modern AU, politics | 29K | 4/9 | Explicit): Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that.

~

Re-read

💙 straight from your heart by luninosity/ @luninosity​ (Stucky in Wakanda | 10K | Explicit): Steve doesn’t mean to have the orgasm. Not exactly. Not the first time, anyway.

💙 Tinder Is the Night by rohkeutta/ @rohkeutta​ (Modern AU, Tinder | 7K | Explicit): It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera. He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

💙 If Only In My Dreams by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 28K | Teen): Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger, the gay New England Pioneer Woman if you will. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction. When his agent Sam informs him that he's been offered an exclusive sponsorship deal with Stark Media and a three book contract to go with it, Bucky's forced to fess up to Sam, who's predictably...displeased. But Sam's also convinced the deal is too good to miss—even if they have to put on a little bit of a show in order to get it. So Tony and Pepper descend on Bucky and Sam's fake home for Christmas with a devastatingly handsome War Hero in tow, and their already complicated plan quickly gets even more complicated as Bucky finds himself falling head over heels for Steve. Can he keep it together just for the holidays? Did he ever have it together in the first place?

💙 took my love, took it down by LaughsAtThunder (Post-WS | 31K | Explicit): The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him.

💙 Sex, Drugs, & Needles by OhCaptainMyCaptain/ @ohcaptainmycaptain1918​ (Modern AU, tattoo artist Bucky | 38K | Explicit): Bucky's a bit of a masochist in that sense – needles and the buzz of a tattoo gun have always turned him on... It’s even worse that this client is what they call a ‘needle virgin’. Doesn’t appear to have a piercing anywhere on him, and he’s already made it clear that he has no prior ink. Bucky’s always found something inherently sexy about being the first person to introduce another to that experience. He has absolutely no problem popping this guy's needle cherry.

[phoebewallerbrigde]

All For Us, (a Reddie x Euphoria HBO) fanfiction

"It was the end of summer, back-to-school was coming up, I had no intention of staying clean and Richie Trashmouth Tozier was back in Derry." 

Without any filter but with humor and franchise, here's the harsh coming of age story of Derry's youth through the eyes of Eddie Kaspbrak, 17, fresh out of rehab.

read it on AO3 || Explicit || 8k || 1/?

Hope you like it guys !

There was a time in my life where everything was fine, but that, that was before I was ripped out of my mother’s womb. Since then, it’s been shit.

Chapter 1 : Screwed.

I was born on September 3rd, 2002 in a world post 9/11 completely overwhelmed by the mourning and the duty of memory. It has been four months since Sam Raimi's Spiderman was at the top of the world box office and that Peter Parker had managed to give hope to America and New York. Far from everything and from New York, there was my mother and my father, and I was their Spiderman. Nice, huh? I don’t think so.

---

My life begins without warning with a childhood in a big house in the depths of America's asshole. Derry, Maine. A small town so small that everyone knows each other and knows everything. That’s where the problems start. My father became ill when I was 9 years old and my overprotective mother was already beginning to fall into what I call "parental and marital abuse". Life at home was absolutely not great, especially because of my "not fitting" behavior.

"Eddie-bear, is everything okay?" asked Sonia Kaspbrak worried.

A 10-year-old Eddie was still staring at the front door counting seconds every time he heard the clock tick of the dining room.

"Eddie-bear, look at me." she added in a calm voice. "You did not even touch your .."

Eddie turned her head to Sonia and began to cry at once. Sonia and Frank looked at each other in amazement, feeling completely helpless.

They did what every healthy-minded parent would do, choosing to consult several doctors, a psychologist and a children's psychiatrist. I wasn't physically abused, I always drank at least a liter of water a day, my mother prepared me good dishes, my father did not hit me... 

"Your son has OCD, ADHD and anxiety. He has a higher brain activity than the average child for his age, probably due to hypersensitivity and perhaps also to behavioral disorders... But he’s still too young to tell."

The psychiatrist's voice left a blank in the room and Sonia Kaspbrak burst into tears. Frank stroked his wife's back for reassurance and Eddie turned to his mother without understanding what was happening.

So why do I have this?

---

"Neuroatypical, you are neuroatypical, Eddie-bear."

Eddie mimicked his mother while eating his cereal bowl, she glanced him, he stopped and sighed.

"Show me your phone, I'll check your alarms."

An 11-year-old Eddie contemplated the capsules, pills and other medications that his mother was carefully distributing in each compartment of his medicine box. He handed him his yellow iPhone 5c that he had already unlocked on the alarms page.

"You have to take all your medicine, at the times indicated."

"I know, Ma."

Sonia looked at her son, who continued to eat with a peeved look on his face. She sat down beside him, putting down his cellphone and the box of compartmentalized tablets.

"You know ... there are lots of famous people like you - famous people, super creative and smart." She managed to catch Eddie's attention and then continued. "Look, your favorite actor who plays in The Truman Show for example."

"Jim Carrey?" 

"Yes!" exclaimed Sonia with a smile.

Yeah, and we all remember Jim Carrey during the 00s New Year Eve on David Letterman's set.

"A genius." ended Eddie with a smile before getting up and packing his box in his fanny pack.

I don’t really remember my pre-adolescence and all that time when I was 10 to 12. I mean, I remember my friends, how meaningless life was, how fast everything was falling apart for us because of daddy’s pneumonia, and how the world was going way too fast for my brain. And that sometimes, if I happened to think too much about everything, to concentrate too much on an smell or on the number of germs present under the table on which I wrote or on the strange way that I breathed ... I had a violent asthma attack. The space of a moment. But very quickly the space of a moment became all the time and all the time became a fight to fight these crises. And frankly...

"So this day, son?" Frank asked with a smile as Eddie walked into his room still dressed with his backpack.

He could hear his father listen to Queen and David Bowie's Under Pressure, one of his favorite songs who became one of his. That made him sketch a small smile.

"I'm fucking done with it."

--- 

I’m not necessarily proud of the choices I’ve made, but it wasn’t really like my mom didn’t push me. The house was full of meds. Meds here, meds there, meds in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the guest room, in the garage. My mother ordered meds profusely but gave me "gazebos" when I was perhaps the one who needed treatment the most. A treatment, I needed a treatment. I got it. It was there in front of me, everywhere, I knew every name and every dose of what the psychiatrist was giving me, it was not hard to remember, so I took it. I took but nothing. I did not feel any difference, the asthma attacks, the tremors, the sadness were still there. I took again and again and always more. When I went to the doctors, they increased the doses and I changed my mother's gazebos with my real meds. It made me feel something in the end, but it was too late, I was already addicted. But after all, is it really my fault? Oh, and I think we say "placebos".

12 years old and already on medication dependence. 13 years old and I stole my father’s morphine and other painkillers. 14 years old and I was asking for more with my psychotropics. 15 years old, I took my 1st taz and smoked my first joint. 16 years old and I sniffed my first rail, the first among others. That's why Georgie Denbrough found me unconscious in my own vomit. I had become a junkie ? I don’t know. I just liked the feeling. The feeling that it gave me, the nothingness. For once on earth, for as long as I can remember, I felt something new every time. It was this need that had led Georgie to scream with fear, which alerted Bill Denbrough to run to discover the disaster and tell him to look for my mother as he tried to wake me up. Poor Big Bill, he thought I was dead. I believed it, too.

I spent the whole summer in rehab after that, I never understood why. Well, I did but I didn’t think I was addicted to drugs. Drugs filled the gap that meds sometimes leave when it’s over. But I’ve learned that meds, too, are drugs.

"Eddie!"

"Georgie!"

Georgie ran into Eddie's arms, Eddie couldn’t help laughing and making remarks about how Georgie was almost ahead of him now. This made Bill laugh when he came to give him their secret handshake before taking the smallest in his arms.

"Hey!" whispered Eddie with a big smile.

Sonia in the distance watched her son squeeze the only two friends she had allowed to come with her to pick up Eddie, since they had been present and saved him with the accident. They ended up taking the road with them to their house. 

"I'm so happy you're back home, Eddie-darling, I missed you so much, never do that again, you gave me up for 3 long months, you realize, I could not to do nothing without you, I was so lonely and you know how much I hate it, never do that again, I made an appointment with the hospital for full exams and we will change you your doses, I will take good care of you my ... "

Eddie stopped paying attention to his mother, he looked around, Georgie and Bill cheerfully discussed everything Bill had planned to do to make up for lost time with Eddie. Not to mention the Losers, but Eddie figured out they were in. The brunette one landed on the windowsill and let the wind caress his face. He noticed in the distance a boy on a bicycle, this long and thin figure was telling him something. Brown curls, an alternative style between neglected but sought after, worn out converses, pale skin to death. Eddie’s eyes marveled at his sight when the car passed him. He felt his heartbeat accelerate and his heart pounding.

And that’s when the beginning of the end really began. It was the end of summer, back-to-school was coming up, I had no intention of staying clean and Richard Trashmouth Tozier was back in Derry. I had to talk to the one person who knew everything about everything.

---

"So ... How long have you been back among us? You have completely hidden your return." Mike asked, eating his salad.

"A week and I didn’t hide everything! I was in quarantine between the hospital and at home all week, thanks Ma. Bill didn’t tell you?" said Eddie watching Mike eat.

"Bill and I don’t really talk right now when we see each other. You know that."

Mike is probably the smartest person I know, yet he still didn’t dare tell the love of his life that he loved him. At the same time, he was living on a planet other than ours and didn’t really have time to be a normal high school student. It was easier to fuck Bill and continue to just be his bro than become his significant other. 

"Richie is back, by the way."

"Ah."

"Yup, he went to the farm and got a 50$ of weed. He didn’t even want me to give him a price."

"D'you know more?" "Hm... He’s already been here for two weeks. He seemed pretty happy to be back, California changes you a man." said Mike laughing what made Eddie smile. "We’ll see when we get back to school."

Eddie nodded at Mike.

"How are you feeling ?" Mike asked, carefully watching Eddie.

"Great since I gave my life to abstinence and I stopped jerking off." Eddie answered seriously.

"Oh ...... Cool, cool, cool, I'm really happy for you."

"Mike, I’m messing with you. You should see your face." Eddie laughed while Mike gave him a pat on the shoulder. " Anyway, that’s not all, but is your grandfather here, Vegemike?"

"Are you serious bro?"

"Hey, it's not because I'm doing a rehab that I'm going to stay clean."

"But.... Isn’t that the point of a rehab? I won’t let you do something stupid again."

"Come on, just weed."

"You do not like weed, Kaspbrak."

"Fine but can I at least have your cherry tomatoes?"

Mike nodded and smiled at his best friend who continued to eat his salad with him.

Something I missed this summer? My trips to the Hanlon farm. Mike being a divine cook and plus a vegan, obviously, his food was safe and harmless to me. And the Hanlon house was the best hostess for parties, it was big, rebuilt in recent years and far enough to be quiet. I must have missed a lot of parties, but if there was one coming up, Stanley Uris'. And if you thought I was gonna miss it, the last big party before school, so the most important one of the summer, you can suck my dick. That’s probably why that piece of shit of Henry Bowers brought his ass back to the farm. It’s a good thing the Hanlons were selling him their wares for twice as much.

"Yo, there you go! That’s his mama’s boy!" he cried as he entered the storefront. "I thought you were dead. Good, because my knife will be able to tate the ground."

"Go get your shit and get off him, dude."

"You’re lucky I haven’t touched you since you’re the best drug dealer in town, but don’t trust me, nig.."

Mike rose sharply and faced Bowers. His eyes were black and Bowers backed away.

"All right, all right, I’ll go."

I never liked Henry Bowers, and I truly believe no one has ever loved him. Even his father hates him. If you were looking for someone to identify as the rich cis hit white man in this city, it was him. He was "untouchable" or rather believed himself untouchable because his father was the most influential guy in the city. He had been sheriff but had ended up building his business and it had taken. It was quite unbelievable, however, now Bowers was living his best life and did not think he had to be accountable to anyone when he still had a mullet cut in 2019 and that he should clearly shut up the fuck up. Before, he harassed me as well as the rest of the Losers club, for my part I was entitled to homophobic insults in profusion. But one day we humiliated him front of his friends. Since then he has left us alone and yesterday’s nerds his become today’s popular. Karma, as they say.

 ---

It was about to get dark in a few hours, a young man was cycling in the streets of Derry. He was tall, fine and handsome. A car passed by him and he was destabilized.

"Back among us, motherfucker, this is my secret sauce as a welcome gift, Tozier!"

Bowers' voice was loud and Hockstetter's laugh had not failed him. Richie had managed to avoid the milkshake he had sent him. He gave him fingers as he went away and Richie sighed on his way home. He passed by the kitchen and dropped off his racing bag and went to his room where he threw himself into his bed. He took out his phone and went straight to Grindr. Richie was scrolling, watching nudes, messages, chatting with people, going from Grindr to Tinder, and finally finding happiness. For tonight, anyway, then took a nap.

If there was anyone that nobody expected to see again in Derry, it was Richie fucking  Tozier. He told me he was back from his parents' divorce. His father had kept the old family house in which he lived in Derry. Something must have happened with his mother in California because Richie preferred to come and live with his father in our good ol' Derry, but he refused to tell me what happened. That Tozier really is a moron.

Richie awoke. It was already 7 pm. He sighed, got up, went downstairs to eat with his father who had prepared some homemade pizzas and then went back to his room. It was 8 pm. He got motivated, launched his "Party times" playlist which debuted on Plus Putes Que Toutes Les Putes from the French band Orties. He took a shower and picked out an outfit. When he found the right one, he couldn’t help but smile. A black wide sweater with a yellow stripe in the middle and "The villa hopes" written on it, simple black slim jeans, red socks and its Converses x 70 x OFF Springs Velour Patchwork. He rolled up his sleeves, made himself up by putting on black, blue, yellow and red eyeliner to make an editiorial makeup, nothing too dramatic. He was dancing in front of his mirror and laughing. He passed his hands several times without his brown curls, put big silver rings on his fingers and finally put on his necklaces including his favorite, the one with a red balloon pendant. He took his Lacoste fanny pack and while looking at it, he had a little smile thinking of the one person who had never stopped wearing these before it became trendy again. He went down the stairs and fell on his father.

"Oh, look at yourself ! So, where are you going?" asked Wenthworth Tozier while observing his son.

Richie arrived in front of his father after crossing the living room. They lived in a beautiful house, quite luxurious from the outside as well as the inside. Richie hugged his father to reassure him.

"To a party, with friends."

"Friends ?"

"Yes, my old friends, dad."

Wenthworth nodded and Richie waved his hand with his index finger and middle finger at his temple before moving them away.

"Watch out, have fun and protect yourself, Rich!"

Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Tozier, Richie was sure to protect himself properly with those Saint Laurent condoms in his bag.

Richie smiled at his father before taking his bike and leaving.

Richie did not want his return to make too much noise. Yet it was all the opposite effect. Everyone who had lived in Derry between 2002 and 2016, so everyone, knew Richie Trashmouth Tozier. The first to know about Richie's return was Ben. Simply because the two were following the same two-week artistic summer course that the school had organized. It was a little stupid because Richie was a little genius despite appearances and Ben was just good at everything without having to force. At least Ben had been able to reconnect with Richie and pass the information to the rest of Losers, but except me, of course.

When he arrived in front of a hotel in the city, he smiled at the message of the chosen one and sent a message to Ben.

[Forget me for tonight, I have a date.]

Ben glanced at his phone, and then at Beverly. Both exchanged suspicious looks.

"What’s going on?" Beverly asked.

"It’s Richie. He says he’s not coming tonight."

"What did you told him?" Beverly looked at herself in the mirror.

"Nothing! He’s just gonna do his little business with someone."

"Oh okay, chill, he’ll come later. Why you scare us like that!" replied Beverly getting close to Ben to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Ben went red in action and Betty Ripsom made a disgusting sound. Beverly stopped to look at the brunette, she had completely forgotten her presence. After all, it was her who'll dropped them off at Stanley’s. "Stop. You’ll do the same thing tonight and even more," she said looking at her.

In case you're wondering, yes, Ben is in love with Bev. For far too long for me to remember. For Bev, however, nobody really knows. Bev is a mystery to everyone, I still wonder why she's friends with us. She's a cheerleader, she's so popular, much more than Mike or Bill or Stan. She has a reputation behind her, yet it has never stopped her from being the baddest bitch in town. A real rolemodel to the twink that I am. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that she was fake dated for a month with Bowers just for a bet and it lasted until today, well, until two days ago. She still made 200 dollars on it every month.

"You slept with Bowers, you do not have the right to speak." Betty retorted.

"A hand job. It was a hand job and it happened once during the 3 months of the bet. Then anyway, Bowers is a clown. It’s not Penny Wise who’s gonna say otherwise. I was able to take away as much as I could before I dumped him. And tonight, we move on." she said, turning to Ben.

"Yes, that’s what everyone wants to hear! Shit Ben, tonight you have to fuck! Not just a handjob or a blowjob! It’s not the '80s anymore, you have to catch some pussy."

Ben smiled slightly embarrassed and turned to Beverly who grinned while listening to Betty. He totally ignored Betty’s words, then lowered his head, a little disappointed. He really wanted to disappear underground at this very moment.

In his place, I’d like to, too. Thank you, Betty.

 ---

"Ma ? I’m leaving."

"Where, Eddie-bear? And so late? You can’t leave me like this." Sonia said as her son came into the living room. "And dressed like that? You look like a bad boy, I don’t like it."

"That’s my usual style, Ma. It’s only 10 pm and I’m going to Bill’s. Don’t wait for me and don’t panic. And yes, I took my medicine with me and my insulin just in case. See you, Ma."

A 16-year-old Eddie closed the front door and leaned back against it, looking down the street and sighing. He was divinely handsome, he had combed his hair, put glitter on his eyes and mascara which gave him an even more intense look. He had put on a silk shirt with patterns like the rich women's scarves, the colors were soft and pastel like salmon, beige, yellow or baby blue but it contrasted with his lame bomber and his slightly tanned and brilliant skin. With that, he had put some necklaces and he also let see his chest. He was wearing his white low converses and black skinny ripped jeans. He took a puff from his inhaler and looked at his bike lying on the ground. He turned his head away and began to walk. He took out his airpods and launched one of his Daily Mix on Spotify, he closed his eyes at Alphaville's Forever Young.

It is never easy to leave this house with a mother as unbearable as mine. In fact, I lied. I’m not going to go to Bill’s, it would be too much of a detour. We’ll meet at the party. I preferred to walk because when I drink, I don’t take the road because...

All the times he passed out, in the middle of the road completely drunk, kept coming to his mind as a nightmare.

You got it, anyway. I know, you're surprised that I drink, but alcohol is pretty much the same as my meds. Except for beer, I hate beer.

Eddie was quietly walking around, dancing, listening to Rubberband Man from the Spinners, and clearly living his best life. When a noisy car because of the music made itself heard more and more as it passed by. The passengers listened to Dang! of Mac Miller and that made Eddie smile, he loved Mac Miller.

"Oh my god, stop the car." exclaimed Beverly. "I said stop the car, Betty."

"Why ?" Betty asked, slowing down.

"We just passed Eddie Kaspbrak!" said Ben looking in through the back window.

"Oh my God! I think he was dead." Betty laughed.

"Shut up. You should be the one to die, Ripsom." Ben replied.

Eddie walked in front of them, not paying attention.

"Yo, the comeback!" yelled Beverly what pulled Eddie out of his music.

He turned to her and looked at her with a smile. She had a big smile and he leaned towards her.

"It’s good to see you again, we missed you." she said in all sincerity.

Ben nodded, which made Eddie smile, he almost had tears in his eyes. His best friends had not forgotten him.

"Are you being dropped somewhere?" Betty Ripsom asked.

"Well, thank you !"

Eddie waved to him and Ben opened the back door. He got into beautiful Betty's Volvo and Bev turned to him.

"What the hell are you listening to? Certainly not the New Kids On The Block." She said looking at Ben who shook his head negatively by squinting his eyes.

Eddie looked at his iPhone 8, Rubberband Man was finished, he pouted at the next song.

"London Calling." he answered hesitantly.

"Perfect."

The music started in the car, all four began to jam in the car while singing.

The party was already in full swing when I arrived with the others. Stan’s house was shining from the outside and eclipsing all the other houses, it was beautiful to see. From the inside, it looked like it was going to explode. In every room, chaos. A kind of stifling heat emanated as Megan Thee Stallion’s Hot Girl Summer filled the house. The minute Stan’s eyes crossed mine, he left Patricia for my arms. It was nice, it wasn’t every day that Staniel gave you a hug.

"Oh, fuck, Edward Kaspbrak himself, that's crazy, I .. I'm so happy to see you!" Stan shouted in his arms. Stan held him so tight that Eddie felt he was going to choke him. He must have been a little drunk. He was wearing a stretch short-sleeved shirt in washed jeans with black pants and chelsea boots. It was divine.

He had always been, it was Stan, he could afford it. He was smart, mature, funny, an excellent counselor, the mom of the group and he also organized the best parties in high school. How having money is really cool.

"Hey everyone! Look who’s back! To Eddie!" shouted Bev while lifting up her shot of tequila in the air.

The people present in the room did the same and repeated these two words at the same time. Bill raised his glass in my direction, he gave me a big smile and I was a little embarrassed. Everyone drank their glasses. Bev gave me a shot of tequila, everyone was looking at me now. It was weird. Being the center of attention is clearly not my stuff. But, I drank that shot and after that, everyone screamed for joy. Bev gave me a hug, then Mike just added himself to the hug, then Bill and then Stan. The Losers were together and I could clearly hear Billie Eilish’s Bellyache in my head.

---

The hotel was rather classy, the room too, thought Richie. He did not know that places like this existed in Derry. The chosen one was therefore fortunate. When he returned from a room that served as a kitchen with two glasses of champagne. Richie looked at him carefully, he liked to sleep with older men, but he never imagined that Butch Bowers was that kind of man.

Thank you." he said, looking at the man standing in front of him.

"Your face is familiar to me, have we ever seen each other?" Butch asked, looking at Richie.

Later, Riche told me that at the moment he wanted to say yes. He really should have done it.

"Not that I remember."

Butch nodded and drank his glass of champagne.

Richie had said he was 18, technically he was not lying, he was actually going to have them. The knowledge. And Richie was consenting.

Butch watched Richie.

"We will not fuck, you're too young."

Richie nodded, he avoided swallowing.

"I envy your generation, however. When I see you, I see two life choices."

He stroked Richie's cheek, then his lips with his thumb. Richie was looking at him almost religiously. There was a kind of tension in the room. They were not going to sleep together, but it was almost as if. In a parallel dimension, it was happening.

"You can leave, live an extremely beautiful life elsewhere, be fully yourself, find love, or you can stay here and end up like me, hanging out in fancy hotels." Butch continued looking at Richie's eyes.

"Both choices are possible." retorted Richie.

Butch's thumb sank into Richie's mouth.

"If only I could, I'd smash you." he said in a low voice.

Richie closed his eyes. He could not really say what he was looking for in this kind of completely barge plan. But there was so much he was looking for. One was definitely that special bond he had once bonded with a unique person in his life. When both made leave of this vocal flirtation, this visual fuck. Richie put California by Lana Del Rey in his ears. 

He looked at the door of the closed bathroom because the chosen one was taking a shower, he must have met someone before him and shoot his shot. Richie looked at his phone and left the room without making a noise. Once outside the hotel, he lit a cigarette. He took a few steps to his bike, when the song ended, the cigarette was too. He changed his song and went straight to Stan's house.

And there. The evening went fucking nuts.

The huge stairs in Stan's house were flooded and mobilized by people kissing, drinking or whatever. The music was in full swing, Eddie did not know the song, but he would have sworn it was one of the songs that Mike composed during his free time. He pushed people a bit to pass and went to the nearest toilet. He closed the door and looked at himself in the mirror before taking a breath of his ventoline. He kept looking in his bag with a tiny vial of white powder inside. There was almost nothing, but it did not matter because Eddie knew it was extremely strong. He spread it on a small spatula attached to his keychain which he had disinfected before and sniffed everything. He ran a hand through his hair and left the room. The sensations becoming stronger, his brain seemed to be reviving.

Blackbear’s Hot Girl Bummer burst into his ears. Suddenly, the world around him seemed to be totally out of sync with him. He almost lost his balance. Standing on the wall, clinging to people, Eddie laughed. The world revolved around him and he danced on the music that filled his brain.

All you need to know is that there are several versions of what happened tonight. It all depends on who tells you the story and... I’m not necessarily the most reliable narrator for this evening. But what I can assure you is that Bowers screwed up.

Bowers had been drinking since before with the party. He spent the night looking for Beverly and she wasn’t that hard to find she was in the Uris pool. Even wet, she was still the most beautiful girl of the party. She made a fairly simple make up. You’d think she had nothing if you didn’t know the basics of makeup. She was having fun with Betty and Audra Phillips, Bill’s ex, by doing a water fight and singing along on to Russ’s Do It Myself. And who knows why, Bowers as the fragile man that he is, wanted to break the moment.

"Slut!" he shouted as he reached the terrace.

He pointed to Beverly who turned to him.

"Yes ?" she replied, with a great deal of irony, a smile on her lips.

Everyone laughed and scolded Beverly's name. Bowers turned speechless. Beverly's smile widens.

"Well then, 2 minutes 30 lost his big mouth?" she said, coming out of the water and facing Bowers. "That is what I thought."

Everyone was watching the confrontation carefully. The first one since Beverly dumped Bowers and announced that it was all just a bet between her and Stan.

"Shut the fuck up, you only suck anyway."

"How could you know that since I would never suck you Henry Bowers? Now, please stop humiliating yourself in public. Go back to Greta Keene and forget about me, okay."

Bowers wanted to fight back but Beverly pushed him into the water and Georgie grabbed his leg to make it easier for him to fall. Everyone shouted and laughed. Stanley stood up and turned away from Mike, Bill and Eddie and apologized to see what was going on with Beverly.

"Really ?" He asked.

"You'll pay me Losers." he said as he stepped out of the pool and back inside.

Losers: 1. Bowers: 0. The school year is starting well.

Bill and Mike were laughing and Eddie smiled at Beverly.

It was at that moment that they concluded. The funny thing is that Bill, when he's alcoholic, totally loses his stuttering. So it was amazing to hear him speak clearly to Mike, especially when it was a rim job. I would have preferred not to be here to hear that. But I'm sure I heard a "I love you Mikey" so finally it was worth it.

"Everything's okay, bro?" asked Mike, noticing his presence again.

"Yeah.. Yeah, that’s fine... Glad to see you two are okay." he said, smiling and watching Bill blush.

At the same time, there was another one for whom things were going well. Ben Hanscom. Ben was playing truth or dare in one of the upstairs rooms with several of the Cheerios like Myra Stonehart or some of the guys from our class. Normally, truth or dare was the game we used to play when we were playing between us only, but here, it turned into a conversation about sex. And Ben Hanscom wasn’t a pro on the subject.

"What are you really virgin?" asked one of the guys in the discussion. "And do not say that a pipe, that counts."

"It counts." retorted Myra.

"You know nothing about it Myra. You're the one who wants to fuck Eddie Kaspbrak while everyone knows he's gay and clearly not interested."

Myra looked up at the skies with a grin.

"Who are you saving yourself for, man?" asked another one of the guys.

Beverly Marsh.

"No one. I’m just waiting for the right moment." Ben replied.

"Like, now’s not a good time?" asked another cheerleader. "If, I asked you to sleep with me tonight, what would you say?"

Ben blinked several times at Anna’s question and remained speechless.

Of course, Ben is an eternal romantic. He writes rose water's poems, appreciates courteous love stories and is much stronger when it comes to putting his thoughts on paper than saying it out loud. But, Ben Hanscom was definitely not a coward. He was just a virgin in a society where we wanted boys to breathe and eat porn all day long.

Anna leaned back to Ben.

"You’re super cute, Ben. You used to be before you started working out. In 5 years you’ll be a sex bomb and I want my cut now." she said in a rather serious tone.

The whole room was breathless, Anna was one of the sexiest girls in high school. Ben nodded softly and Anna smiled.

"Everybody clear this room now!"

---

While Ben surely lived what would be one of the most memorable evenings of his life. Richie Tozier had arrived at the party, and I was sprawled on that couch by the pool watching Mike and Bill be in love. Shit, I want what they have. At the same time, Beverly was playing in the pool with Audra and Betty, but you already know the rest.

"By the way, Eddie, you owe me 120 bucks." Mike said looking at his friend.

"Yeah, but I thought our friendship and the fact that I'm alive made up for that." Eddie replied.

"If you say so." Bill replied.

Stan came to join them.

"Frankly, Eddie, I missed you, we missed you all, it was not the same this summer without you, your drug stories make me feel bad."

"Aw Stan, don’t be sentimental."

"No, that’s not it. I love you, man, but... you really scared us." he said, taking a break before turning to Eddie.

Mike and Bill nodded in agreement with Stan.

"We thought you were dead. And seriously, Eddie, I’ve seen a lot of people die, but I would never agree to see you die for that. I’ve seen a lot of people die, but not people like you." Mike added. "I don’t know exactly what’s going on with your brain, but I can tell you one thing, drugs and getting high is not your solution."

A blank settled in between these four. He was not unpleasant, on the contrary. It was peaceful. They watched Beverly and Bowers fight.

"There’s one thing I remember... it happened when I was nine years old, shortly after my father was diagnosed. We were told that he was going to get better, I mean, that he had a chance of getting better. So, we celebrated it, we went to New York, seven hours back and forth. One of the best moments of my life. I told my dad that when I grew up, I would go to New York and live there."

Eddie’s voice started shaking and Stan gently shook his hand.

"Then we came home and I remember... that night, I slept with my parents and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. As if there was no oxygen in the world. My parents called the ambulance thinking I had a violent asthma attack. At the hospital, they gave me opium. Liquid. To calm me down and... then I thought, 'Okay, so that’s what I need'. Not mom’s medicine. That. Because all of a sudden, it was as if everything had become simpler. The noise, the voices in my head, everything was gone. Everything. Being in my head wasn’t a problem anymore. Four years later, he passed away and the asthma attacks that were actually anxiety and panic attacks continued. But that’s okay. I found a way to survive. I have you, guys. I have my psychiatrist. My medecine. Maybe it will kill me..."

Stan kissed Eddie's hand in support then got up and went to see the mess with Bev.

"Hey! Don’t say that!" yelled Bill slowly to Eddie before giving him a pat on his head.

"Touch me again in that ugly mustard buffalo shirt and I’ll kill you, Big Bill." Eddie laughed.

The three friends focused on the story of Bev and Bowers. Then Eddie stood up to give his best friends more privacy. Bowers had stormed into Stan’s apartment in the kitchen to get drunk. Blur’s Girls and Boys was in full swing throughout the house and the first thing Bowers did was not to drink, but to sweep a few bottles here and there with the back of his arm. Eddie and Stan followed Bowers wanting to throw him out of the party and Beverly Marsh had left the pool to annoy Mike and Bill that she had dragged inside after getting dressed.

"Get out of the kitchen!" screamed Bowers scaring everyone. " Get the fuck out."

The people around him backed back carefully to avoid getting a piece of glass, while watching Bowers lose it. Richie dug himself into a corner of the kitchen staring at Bowers totally destabilized by his behavior. Eddie, Stan, Mike, Bill and Bev entered the crowd.

"What's your fucking problem?" he said looking at Richie.

Richie looked at the sides and then looked at Bowers, he didn’t know what to say.

"Why are you here?" he says, moving forward and sticking to him. "Huh? You can't speak ? Aren't you Trashmouth Tozier for nothing?"

At the Trashmouth name agreement, Eddie’s attention got bigger. Shit, what is Richie doing here ?

"Can I know who invited you? You don’t even have any friends here. Everyone forgot you."

"Listen, uh. I don’t want any trouble, I just want to spend a chill night in my corner." Richie said, looking him in the eye.

He didn’t even blink.

"People like you are not here to stay in their corners. You are a problem here, you see, nobody answers. Nobody!" he shouted at Richie.

Richie grabbed the first kitchen knife and pointed it at Bowers, who backed away.

"You think you scare me? You think you scare me, Bowers? You know what we do to sons of cops like you in California?" yelled Richie in turn as he moved towards Bowers. "Back the fuck up!"

"I was fucking kidding. I was fucking kidding !"

"I’m not afraid of you, Bowers."

"W-put the knife down, okay? Put it down! I was laughing."

"You want to hurt me? You have no idea who I am." Richie yelled when he put the knife down.

At the same time he cut his hand without intentionally doing with one of the glass pieces of broken bottles. The spectators cried out in complete shock at this spectacle.

"You see. I absolutely don’t feel pain."

"Are you fucking crazy or something, Loser !?" added Bowers.

Bowers stood in his trembling corner, everyone watching the scene between confusion, admiration, shock and total chaos.

"No, I’m Richie Tozier. And it’s good to be home. Great party tho, Stan the man !" he said while smiling before leaving the room.

Oh yeah... fuck me.

Eddie quietly left his friends after that.

Ben came back down the stairs and saw Richie leave the party in fury.

"What did I miss?" Ben asked Mike.

"Where were you, man? You missed the craziest thing ever !" Mike asked Ben.

"I took care of my business."

Mike stares at Ben not fully understanding what Ben meant.

"I’ve lost my virginity."

"What? With whom?" asked Mike.

"Anna Addams."

"Wow. The Anna Addams?" he said with a smile. Ben confirmed by nodding his head, then Mike took him in his arms. "Well! Congratulations! How was it?"

"You should ask her."

Mike laughed and joined Stan in the kitchen. Stan gave Bowers a broom, cleaning supplies and a shovel.

"Clean up, or I’m going to get Richie." Stan said with a black look and a cold, stern voice.

Bowers took them and resigned himself. He glanced at Mike, Mike supported him, and Bowers resigned himself.

"I will stay in case you botch the job. Oh, after that, you and your friends will leave the party. Thank you." added Stan who was joined by Patricia, his girlfriend.

---

Eddie came out of the Uris house looking for Richie Tozier. He found him quite quickly getting his bike back.

"Hm... is everything all right?" Eddie asked while watching Richie.

Oh my God.

"Uh, yeah, it's good, don’t worry, m... Eddie Spaghetti?"

Richie smiled and blinked several times before moistening his lips. His smile came back, but this time in a corner one. He watched Eddie attentively, capturing every detail of his face. His hair was slightly unscrewed, his mascara had dripped a little and mixed with the glitter on his eyes. His pink lips, his freckles, his smile. Richie hugged him.

Wow. I think I’m getting hard.

"Yes yes, it’s m... Hey, don’t call me that!"

"You look good. It just smelled like trouble in here."

Eddie opened his eyes and began to blush slightly.

"Thank you, you’re not bad either... Yes! Yes, I understand your action. It’s just what you did... It was deadly classy."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Richie noticed the necklace on Eddie’s red balloon pendant.

"You still have it! That’s so cool."

"Oh the necklace? Yes! I’m not leaving it. You too, from what I see! You... you’re going somewhere?"

"At my place." Richie replied.

"I.. Can I come?"

"Yeah, of course! But your mother ? How is she since the last time I fucked her ?" Richie asked while mocking Eddie.

"Fuck my mother."

Yeah, fuck my mom. I found back the only boy I’ve ever loved in my entire life, looking like a fucking greek god and I still have to think about my mom ? Not today, Ma, not today.

The two took the road on Richie’s bike. Bowie’s Heroes passed on Eddie’s little JBL bluetooth speaker. Then, Richie suggested him to put Eddy de Preto's Fête de Trop. He was thrilled, clinging to Richie’s waist and resting his head on his back. He had strangely waited for this moment all week. It may not have happened the way he hoped, but Eddie was appeased.

Once they entered the Tozier house, they both went up to Richie’s room. Not much had changed compared to before, it was perhaps closer and more harmonious. Richie undressed and changed into pajamas, Eddie did his best not to look and Richie laughed at him. He gave her one of his sweaters that turned out to be too big for him, but anyway, he loved it and Richie loved seeing Eddie like that. He was just so...

"Cute. You’re so cute, Eds!"

"Stop it, won't you ?!"

Eddie rushed to clean Richie’s wound and apply a bandage with his first aid kit. Richie teased him by calling him Doctor K. and it was like Richie never left Derry. Richie had always been there somewhere and Eddie had seen him become a young man. Once the wound was cleaned and dressed. They took off their makeup and then the two men went face to face in Richie’s bed. They didn’t really need to talk to each other to say all the things they had on their hearts. They both laughed and Eddie snuggled in Richie’s arms. Nothing has changed. They still liked sleeping together. They still loved each other.

Mike, Bill and Georgie went home to the Denbroughs, Georgie fell asleep in the car, but Bill took him to his room quietly and then brought Mike in, then in his room where for the first time they spent the night talking when they were only the two of them.

Bev had gone home in the early morning and managed to miraculously avoid her father. She took off her makeup and changed her clothes at Stan’s after helping her clean everything up.

Ben had slept at Stan’s with Anna and had also cleaned everything with Betty, Patricia, Myra and others who had planned a sleepover at his house.

Bowers didn’t go home after cleaning up Stan’s kitchen, he went to Hockstetter’s to get drunk until the morning. Humiliated, uprooted, and completely high. He was severely taken back by his father and mother but especially by his father and went to his bedroom having already found his future victim for the year.

The next day, Richie and Eddie woke up early. Richie stopped by to brush his teeth and wash himself because Eddie forced him to do it and then Eddie did the same. Once back in Richie’s room, Eddie stared at him as he sat on his bed.

"I have an idea." he said softly.

"What?" Richie asked while stroking his hair softly.

"Wanna get high?"

[se-deathfest]

Frequently Asked Death Fest Questions

                   What is Death Fest?

Death Fest is a writing and art event for the Soul Eater fandom, similar to the Phic Phight (created by @CurrentlyLurking) and Art Fights! This is done with permission from CurrentlyLurking and all credit for the idea goes to them.

Phic Phight (pronounced Fic Fight) is an event in April for the Danny Phantom phandom where participants are assigned to two teams and given prompts to fill out—made by members of the opposing team. Your goal is to write as much as you can in a month, and the team with the most points at the end of the month wins!

Art Fights are a month-long event where a group of artists are assigned to two teams and attack each other – by drawing one of the opposing team’s OCs.

Death Festival, or just Death Fest, is like a mix of that! Artists and Writers will be put on two teams and you'll all be given a month to get as many points as you can!                

                   When will it happen?

Lilli and I are hoping to start and end this before Resbang kicks off, so June or July! If this becomes a yearly thing, sign ups will start on the first of April and end on April 30th.                

                   What should submitted prompts look like?

A word or a sentence is great for a prompt! Anything you think that can inspire someone else to write or draw!                

                   What is/is not allowed?                    Not Allowed:                    

NSFW Prompts (Content is fine so long as it is properly tagged.)

Content/Prompts involving age-inappropriate ships.

Allowed (so long as it is clearly Soul Eater-related):      

OCs!

Crossovers!

AUs!

Crossover AUs!

                   How do the teams work?

We have two teams: Team Witch and Team Meister. We’ll be trying to put people on teams for this as equally as we can (so an equal number of artists and writers, if we can).

Team Witch will make the prompts for Team Meister and Team Meister will be making the prompts for Team Witch! We'll also take suggestions for prompts through our submissions.

Our lovely friend @StarKitters will be helping us split people into their assigned teams!

Make sure you sign up through the Google Form (link coming soon!)                

                   How do we get points for writing?

Every 100 words of your fic counts for 10 points. The more words you write, the more points your team gets! You get 5 extra points for completing a story. So, if you write a one-shot, you’ll get X points for writing plus another 5 for completion (so long as it’s marked as complete). You could also write a whole story for your prompt and get those extra 5 points once you complete the story!

The stories can be uploaded to Tumblr, FanFiction.Net, or Archive of Our Own. Google Docs, Word Docs, and the like will not be accepted.

Your points will be halved if you do a prompt from your own team.

Comments are another way to get points! Reblog or reply to a tumblr post or review on FFN or Ao3! Make sure you let your team leader know! Commenting points are not halved simply to encourage commenting! And you get 3 points per platform. So if it's posted on all three platforms and you comment on all three, that's 9 points.                

                   How do we get points for art?

You have to make sure you time yourself while doing art, and please try to pause your timer if you take a break! We want this to be fair, don’t we?

Anyways, you get 10 points per every 10 minutes of art. So, if you take an hour to sketch something, that’s 60 points for your team! If you ink/outline your work, that’s an extra 2 points. If you color it, that’s an extra 5 points!

There are no point differences for medium and the art can be uploaded to Tumblr or DeviantArt.

Your points will be halved if you do a prompt from your own team.

Comments are another way to get points! +3 points for your team for that! Reblog or reply to a Tumblr post or comment on DeviantArt! Make sure you let your team leader know! Commenting points are not halved simply to encourage commenting! And you get 3 points per platform. So if it's posted on all both platforms and you comment on both, that's 6 points.                

                   How long should the fics be?

As long as they’re readable, there’s no set length!                

                   How big should the art be?

There’s no set size, you could have something huge or just a page of sketches.                

                   Can I spread this around off of Tumblr?

Of course! But they should contact Lilli or myself with some way to contact them (preferably Discord) before filling out the form to enter.                

                   Do we win anything?

Nope! This is all for fun!                

                   Do comics count as art and writing?

For logistics purposes, comics only count as art.                

                   Who runs this event?

Admins:

Zero/Torin - @s0uleatblr

Lilli - @lilliesofinspirationvalley

Team Witch Leader

None

Team Meister Leader

None

Other Important People

@typhoondragon/@aecane1nferno - Advertising

@gostriley - Advertising

@StarKitters - Team Organization

[ruvigapo]

Hi do you have maybe some tips for someone who is learning how to use water colour? What brand of water colors to use etc. ??

Hi! Sure i guess.♡ Keep in mind that while i wouldn't say i'm a beginner i'm definitely still learning too.

I will uh.. i'll edit this post this afternoon with some tips lol (note to self to not use the tumblr app in the morning lest your thumb slip and post an unfinished post XD)

((Or maybe i am still a beginner, idk. Okay yeah i'm a beginner but i can give some tips.))

Okay so, i'm home. Been a long day. Here are some tips.

Honestly though, i'm Definitely not an expert when it comes to watercolour specifically. I've used it since i was a kid but i only really got the hang of it resently and i'm definitely still learning.

1. So honestly my first advise is to just look at a lot of different tutorials and ask a lot of different people. This goes for most mediums, but there are a lot of different ways to use water colour to achieve the look that you want and a lot of people do it differently bc it's so versitile.

2. This is a given, but honestly, there's no better teacher than experience. The more you try something out and try doing it in different ways, the more you'll be able to find what works for you. That's really important i think.

This is a tangent, but I took a water colour summer course once and i learn a lot of cool stuff, but i also learnt through a lot of trial and error that my style of water colour was very different from how it's traditionally taught here. Partially because i'm impatient and can barely wait for the layers to dry (this, btw, is honestly a must in water colour tho so that's really gotten better on my end with practice) and partially because a lot of the techniques i learnt were good for landscape painting but dificult when drawing more complicated pieces in my opinion. They're still great techniques but i also learnt to take inspiration from other sources that more closely match what i like to paint.

And the more i learn the more i find that i am also able to incorporate traditional techniques that before seemed very dificult for me.

3. As for art supplies, i honestly wouldn't worry too much about it. Especially as a beginner. I always say that the tool doesn't make the artist, the artist makes the artist. In the end, the most important tool you will ever need is your mind.

I'm also not very good with what brands are high quality and which aren't so there's that frankly.

I'd say ask around and look into what brands are available to you. Most standard water colour sets are good and last a long time. Then you can of course expand your tool arsenal. I'd recomend a bigger pallet just because i'm the kinda person who really enjoys mixing and trying out a lot of different colours and therefore need a lot of space to mix colours.

Also i'd say look into what type of brushes you prefer, and pay attention which brushes are water colour brushes and which are acrylic brushes bc they're pretty different.

Really high quality brushes are usually made with animal hair, which makes it able to hold a lot of water and pigment. I don't like them much personally bc i don't use a lot of water for my drawings as a general rule (mostly because they're doodles and the paper in my sketch book doesn't hold water all that well). (And also sometimes the hairs fall off from the brush and get stuck in my drawing 😬... they're worth checking out though.)

But try out different types of brushes and see what you like. It might be tempting to get a very tiny brush for tiny details but honestly, a medium size does the same work just fine with a light hand in my opinion. And depending on wether you want to paint big or small, what size brush you need will vary. I know that art supplies can be expensive though, so don't feel like you Have to get the most expensive thing when you're just starting out.

4. Speaking of just staring out... honestly, don't even worry about using up your supplies and feeling like every single thing you make has to be perfect. It's not going to be perfect. And not only is that okay but it's nessesary. Not to mention that perfection is wholy a myth and can't be achieved so don't even worry. Quantity over quality i always say. The quality will come with time and work. Which is why i always recomend cheaper brands anyway because you will be painting A Lot to git gud, as they say, but that might just be me.

5. Back to brands

Honestly Please invest in a good paper at least once. It doesn't have to be Fantastic, it just needs to hold water. I'm not even joking, the quality of your paper does wonders for the quality of your drawing. Can you make water colour look good on normal paper? Sure. Case in point, all of the things i paint. But honestly, if not for the sake of a result, then try it out for the sake of experience. Try different things. See what works for you. I honestly do recomend starting out with a good water colour paper since the result will be miles better and you'll feel way more encurraged to continue. That's the one supply i'm adamant about trying honestly. But again, budget wisely young padawan. And if you ever feel scared to use your supplies bc they were expensive and you don't want to waste it.. again nothing is a waste, everything you draw is stored as knowlege in your brain that you'll use to make better art in the future. Nothing is a waste. But if you're like me and the anxiety really hinders you, just get a cheaper paper. I like to paint in my sketch book bc it feels like a diary to me and it doesn't have to be perfect and if i screw up it's still fine. I'll tape it over and start again.

Okay so.. i realise that this is rambly and maybe a bit preachy and not very specific. Starting out can be scary and you want all the things in the right place and you want things to go well every time you paint even though you know it's not going to at first. But you just have to start somewhere and keep going from there. Bc if you never start, where will you be?

So honestly, if you don't have any supplies on hand, just go to the nearest place that sells art supplies and get yourself some good paper and a water colour set and just go ham trying out the colours.

Here are some of the water colour things i've watched over the years to help me in geting started.

This last guy i only found the other week. He does a more trafitional style, more in line with how i was taught at that one summer class thing. So it's always nice to look at different ways to do the thing you want to do.

6. Water colour to me has always been tricky. It's water so it flows, and for a while, that was frustrating because i wasn't able to control it i thought. I prefered using markers but honestly, markers are way more expencive than water colours and you can't mix them and get as much if a clean finish, so now i only use water colour to colour my drawings.

But for a while i avoided water colour and instead opted to use guache. Guache is mostly used in illustrations bc they're easy to layer since the paint is opaque. It's much more forgiving than water colours, so if you want, buy a couple tubes of guache and try that. You don t need that many. I use cyan magenta and two types of yellow as well as white. Any art teacher will tell you that with practice you can mix almost every colour from those colours. I almost never use blacj anymore. Unless i'm lazy, in which case i'll jusr add a layer of black water colour on top of the guache. (GUACHE CAN BE EXPENSIVE THOUGH, DON'T FORGET TO BUDGET)

There are opaque water colours but most aren't i believe. That's where the main difference between guache and water colour comes in. See, in water colour, traditionally, you aren't supposed to use white to lighten a colour. Instead you use water to dilude the pigment. This gives a much more clean and crisp finish. You can do this with guache also, but since quache is already opaque it will still have that same grainy look wether you dilude it with water or mix it with white or both. I mean... i personally love the grainy look so... it's very story book-ish.

With guache bring opaque that also means you can paint over mistakes and start over pretty much, so again, guache is much more forgiving. Once the white of the page is gone when you use water colour, you can't get that back without adding white guache on top, which honwstly just looks messy imo. So be aware of that.

7. Let layers dry before adding another one or the colours will bleed together. Learning to be patient is key. But if you're like me you can just use a hair dryer tbh.

8. If you're using a good paper, you can experiment with a lot more water. Taping down the paper helps bc the paper will swell a lot and buckle when you add a lot of water. (Press it between a butt load of books to get it somewhat flat again).

You can try taking a spunge or a wide brush and add a layer of water before adding the pigment. It can have some interesting results.

You can also leave the paper dry and just paint layers like you would with markers. Both work. Water bleeds more but that's really cool in landscape painting so if that's something you want to try, def experiment with letting the colours bleed together.

9. Oh and don't forget to swatch out your colours when you get them. Water colour dry lighter than it looks when you put down the colour, so swatching helps with determining what colours you want where.

There are So Many videos on the subject honestly. I like to watch videos while i paint. It's fun.

Okay so this is long enough i think. I barely grazed the tip of the proverbial iceberg but i hope it helped.

I really encurrage anyone who knows their stuff abt water colour to add on to this. I really don't want to spread false info. These are just my two cents on the top of my head.

Which basically just boils down to

JUST DO IT

I honestly tell myself this every day. And if i can do parkour then you can paint.

Good luck and have fun! 👍👍👍

[toweringarts]

Please donate to a good cause!

Hello everyone! It’s that time of the year where I ask you all to help me raise funds to the ALS Association in honor of my grandmother, who had died in 2011 due to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). You’ve probably heard of it before, as lately I feel like everyone is dying of it (Steve Hawkins had it, and Stephen Hillenburg the creator of Spongebob. Even a member of the furry community, Dogbomb, was famously diagnosed with it and just recently passed away). It is a dangerous disease for which no cure has been found. That’s why we have to help in any way we can!

This May 4th, I’m going on a walk to help fundraise. Me, and millions of people, would be very grateful if you helped by donating to a team that’s walking! My team is Team Torres, led by my mom. I have a personal donation page, too. It’s right here. This year, we registered very late. There have been a lot of inconveniences and unprecedented situations and surprises that distracted us, some of them good and some of them bad, so we’re in a bit of a rush? That’s why, I want to do something different this year for my donation page, although please excuse me, I haven’t really thought it through very well, so it’s a little disorganized and might be a disaster.

Everyone that donates from this page (or the main Team Torres page) in my name, if they want to, will get a free drawing request! I’ll draw you anything! I mean it! ANY Donation, too! Anything as low as a dollar will get a drawing! Simply send me proof that you donated, tell me in what name you donated (please don’t write anonymous! Just make up a name if you don’t want to be known), and then tell me what you’d like me to draw.

But please keep in mind my busy schedule... I plan these drawings to be sketches. Some of them might be colored, some of them might even be inked. I have a set of rules or guidelines I’d like to follow, but seeing as I don’t know what I’m doing I might not follow them anyway! I just want to give you an idea of what to expect if you want a drawing, and donated with that idea in mind. More info on the sort of drawings and the “rules” below:

rules:

Please don’t donate anonymously. I want to keep track of who’s doing this, if anyone is, and it’ll be easier if I have a name! Please make up one, the website allows you to write down any name you want displayed, it doesn’t have to be the one in the credit card.

You must send me proof that you donated! I have submissions open both in this blog, and on my main blog. The proof could be anything really, from a screenshot of the transaction summary, to a screenshot of your email confirmation, to even your bank statement. but please PLEASE blur out or crop any sensitive information like your credit card number, your address, or your even your full name if you’re uncomfortable with that. I don’t wanna know! I just want to make sure I’m rewarding the right people! Here’s some examples:

One character please! As stated, my schedule is busy! If you don’t want a character but rather a thing (like a landscape..?) I can do that too! Just please don’t expect masterpieces, I’m begging you. Here’s the level of work I’m capable of doing for donators:

Level 1 is just a straight up sketch or doodle. Neither of those drawings is particularly edited or checked for anatomy, but they have overall shape and are not, at least I hope, ugly. However, whether it’s a messy sketch, or a cleaner sketch, will probably depend on the amount donated. Down below are more examples and the possible cleanliness of the sketches. These automatically happen if you donate between a dollar and $9.

Anything colored but not inked, such as a level 2 pictured here, will probably be because of a donation of over $10. They usually take me over 30 minutes, and this is an estimate without me knowing what it is that you’d like. I might color a sketch for someone that donates below $10, specially if I really like how it turned out, but I’ll most likely do it later on? By the way, it would be the same thing if you’d want it inked but not colored. Inking and coloring takes me a similar amount of time, so if you donate $10 or more I’ll ask you for your choice!

And then... a level 3, which is to say both inked and colored, with the pencil sketch removed, (and I’m sort of assuming this one will be rare but truthfully I don’t really know?) would probably be... over $25.

If anyone donates any price over, oh I don’t know, $40? $50? I’ll add another character, or something? Give you my firstborn? If anyone donates over $100 I will die, and my gratitude will give you eternal life, but also I will massively up the effort! I might even... dare I say... draw a background?? Or a whole family!?

If you REALLY can’t pick a character, and want more than one person, but are just as broke as me, perhaps consider donating something like, $10 for two full bodied uncolored sketched characters instead of one colored or inked character? A $20 would similarly be worth about 3 uncolored characters.

If you came here from twitter don’t feel like you have to message me through tumblr! My twitter is right here (which, I’m assuming, is where you got the link to this post from.) Please message me there if you want.

Thank you very much for reading. If you live in New York, please come walk on Saturday May 4th! They have free food! And usually they have free cocnut water!! Thank you. Please reblog and spread the word! DEFEAT ALS!!!

[thisdayinfavrd]

February 9, 2009

The bulimic next door kept me awake all night, again. Have asked her to keep it down, but it doesn't seem to help.   @nostrich (nostrich) – 66

My wife. In the bedroom. Watching "Titanic".   I enter the room. Naked. I say, "Sketch me."  She declines.   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 49

Missing tweet #1192410586   @aedison (Avery Edison) – 43

I'm more interested in the new Amazon Kindle Nano: a $12, single-title device printed on "paper."   @scottsimpson (Scott Simpson) – 40

In the post economic meltdown world, I will rely heavily upon faith and hope. Which is what I have named my biceps.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 39

The price of oil is so low it would be silly not to put in an anti-zombie fire trench around your home.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 38

I am making the face that overeducated people make when they realize after eight tries that the stapler is not broken, but simply empty.   @Tony_D (Tony Delgrosso) – 38

my cat just got amazed when my computer ejected a cd. when were you born cat? 1997?   oh, 2005. sorry, i'll show you how it works.   @baileygenine (Bailey Siewert) – 37

I kissed a girl and wound up with a mortgage, 2 kids, and a terrier with a napoleon complex. None of which tastes like cherry chapstick.   @joeschmidt (Joe Schmidt) – 36

Having avoided her for at least a year, it appears that sometime during my absence Rachel Ray prepared and ate another Rachel Ray.   @TBMimsTheThird (cwthethird) – 36

I stand with one foot rooted firmly in the past, and one foot reaching out to the future. This is so I can teabag the present.   @mogrify (Tony Gambone) – 35

Missing tweet #1192047932   @luckyshirt (Unavailable) – 35

Seriously though, a mall massage gets awkward fast if you thank the little Asian man when he tells you how tight you are.   @hoosiergirl (hoosiergirl) – 34

With Obama now in power, the Republican Party has found its voice.  Oddly, it's the same voice my preschooler uses when we make her shampoo.   @adamisacson (Adam Isacson) – 34

I worry when humans go extinct, the other extinct species will beat the crap out of us in Heaven.   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 33

Is it just me or has Michael Cera has set up an entire generation of passive-aggressive nerds for a world of disappointment?   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 31

Missing tweet #1192545366   @FanEffingTastic (Unavailable) – 31

Journalists are now quoting MySpace pages.   Edward R. Murrow just rolled over in his grave to say: "Good night. Good luck. And fuck you."   @TBMimsTheThird (cwthethird) – 31

The mall kiosk masseuse mostly rubbed my ass, but he must know what he's doing since he was wearing a Foot Locker jersey & didn't charge me.   @hoosiergirl (hoosiergirl) – 30

Sometimes dreams do come true. Like that dream where I'm at work, naked, giving a PowerPoint on my cat. Anyway, here's Mr. Meow in a bonnet!   @fireland (Joshua Allen) – 29

[peppy-pilot]

Do you have any tips for new roleplayers on Tumblr?

//It really depends on just how new this RPer is. Are they new to RPing in general? New to the Tumblr community? New to RPing canon muses? Or OCs? Because any advice to these that’d cover all these bases wouldn’t be anything more than

But okay, I’m going to assume the person is just new to Tumblr RP in itself but has had some RPing experience prior. Feel free to request tips for something more specific if this isn’t what you’re looking for.

Include an About and Rules page among your blog links. This is extremely important because not everyone interprets your muse or RPs the same way you do, so this gives other RPers a headsup on what to expect and how to approach you. Rules also puts RPers at ease on what to avoid and how to make your RPing experience smoother.

Make sure your blog is accessible and readable. Sure, folks would die for aesthetic, and others would be turned off by someone who only uses the extremely basic Tumblr blog formats. All won’t matter if content is absolutely unreadable and your About/Rules/other important links are inaccessible upon visiting the blog. Make sure important links, if they have a custom coding, are at least intuitive in access (as in people can guess where they are without spending hours on searching for it).

A major reminder: Some Tumblr users (such as myself) have vision problems and would rather not want to squint just to read extra-flowery or super tiny text. If you’re going to customize the body of your writing, keep the font simple, avoid cursive, and avoid super-tiny font sizes. Anything smaller than Arial 9 would be unbearable.

Icons aren’t as important as most blogs make them seem to be–a good chunk of us actually don’t mind iconless threads at all! However, if you will be using icons, and canon material is sparse on rendering them in an expression that can be useable, you can definitely borrow other artists’ art–but ask permission first. Do not steal art, and especially do not steal someone else’s icons–even if it’s just screencaps of official media. Making icons even from screencaps is still a lot of hard work and often involves a lot of hours into editing and formatting. Just make your own.

And if you’re going to draw your own art, quality isn’t that important. JUST DRAW. A good chunk of us artist-RPers, in fact, use RP as an opportunity to practice and improve on our abilities to portray expressions and scenes, regardless of quality–especially because they tend to just be fast 10-minute sketches anyway. In fact, that’s the kind of art I would recommend over something far higher quality. Believe me, trying to produce high-quality art for your RP threads all the time will bring in artist’s block faster than you can say “perfectionism”! Be loose, love what you’re doing, and have fun!

You can borrow from other RPers’ headcanons, but be wary of outright using them. Just like art and writing, many writers and RPers aren’t too keen on someone outright stealing their headcanons. With that said, if your headcanon is, coincidentally similar to someone else’s, or happens to be fanon or fandom-accepted (e.g., “I headcanon Fox and Falco are in love!”), then I highly encourage you place your own take on that particular headcanon. People are more than likely to love and appreciate headcanons that diverge a little differnt from others as long as there is a lot of thought into it.

Trim your posts. Trim your posts. Trim your posts. This isn’t even a suggestion or a tip, this is just Tumblr RP ettiquette. If you don’t know how to trim your posts, I highly recommend grabbing XKit and the Editable Reblogs extension for easier trimming. This method helps too.

Don’t stress over replying right away. Tumblr RP is not real-time RP, and a scenario that ought to be taking place within a span of 5 minutes could take 5 weeks to accomplish. A lot of RPers are students and workers with stubborn muses, and even if someone is up at night replying to threads, they may not get to yours on time before they get tired or writer’s block. Remember: RP is a hobby. You are in no obligation to always reply right away, and the same goes for your partner. Be patient with yourself and them.

Last, but not least: Always communicate with your RP partners. Even if you’re a shy bean and not very chatty, being in communication with your RP partner is extremely important. Naybe you want to ship. Maybe you have a great thread idea! Maybe there was something about their reply that made you extremely uncomfortable and you have a right to express it. Maybe you feel your thread isn’t going anywhere and you’d like to start a new one. Maybe RP is just not working out. Don’t leave your partners hanging! And if your partner isn’t approaching you for something, you can always approach them too. But remember: be courteous, be kind, be civil, and be polite. RP acquaintances and partners do not always automatically mean becoming super close friends where you can scream obscenities at each other and everything will be okay. Talk to each other like you would to their face.

And that’s all I got so far! Sorry this got wordy and a little TL;DR, I just hope to cover my bases regarding what to bear in mind for Tumblr RP! If you have any other questions, feel free to ask, though I highly recommend @fuckyeahroleplayadvice more regarding RPing on Tumblr!

[barmcakemag]

Halifax Festival of Words talk

This is the talk I gave at the Halifax Festival of Words. It took place in the front room of the Grayston Unity bar (pictured below) last month, just before publication of Barmcake 9. Some of the posters from the talk are also pictured below. Thanks to the festival and bar for having me.

I love this front room.

It sort of reminds me of being a kid, at my grandparents, on Boxing Day.

Some of the family used to get up and do a turn ­– a song, a sketch, a tune.

Among the aunties and uncles was my Great Aunty Mary, who was great in all respects. She was very funny, wrote poetry  –  and was the spitting image of Hylda Baker, (poster below), who I’ll be coming to later.

 I didn’t have an uncle like Lou Reed ­– fortunately.

That would have made Christmas a bit tense.

‘Uncle Lou, you’ve spilt heroin on your roast potatoes again.’

Anyway, I’ll be coming on to the Velvet Underground later as well.

So, I’m Dave Griffiths and I make Barmcake.

The magazine started in April 2014 and the new edition – issue 9 – is out next week.

There are usually two editions a year. I only brought one out last year because I was busy with my other work – I’m a freelance writer, editor, proofreader and journalism tutor.

Barmcake is available free in about 45 venues in West Yorkshire, Greater Manchester, Sheffield, and North Derbyshire. You can also obtain copies by post, if you send a donation.

I write all – or all but one or two – of the articles in each edition. I also design the magazine, edit it, find the advertising, sort the fundraising, promote it, and deliver it.

This afternoon I’m going to be telling you why I make a print magazine in the digital age.

And why I make this particular magazine, which I believe is different from anything else out there.

(I know it’s definitely the only one that offers northern entertainment for the middle-aged.)

I’ll also tell you how I make an issue from scratch.

There are high points about ­making Barmcake – interviewing people like John Cooper Clarke, Viv Albertine, and Ken Dodd.

But there are perils about making a magazine on your own – for example when my computer packed in a week or so before deadline for issue 8 and I had redo the pages from scratch

I’ll also tell you about the money side of things.

I’m happy to take any questions at the end. Although don’t ask me anything about maths. The square of the hypotenuse is worth two in the bush, or whatever.

I’ve been a journalist since 1989.

I’ve worked for all the ridiculously-named weekly newspapers – the Congleton Chronicle, the Biddulph Chronicle, the Ormskirk Advertiser, the Wigan Observer.

I’ve never been a Woodward and Bernstein-type journalist. I used to love doing  golden wedding anniversary interviews – finding out about people’s lives. (The secret for most couples is: ‘Never go to bed on an argument’).

I moved to London in the mid-90s and became a sub-editor. Then I came back up north to Leeds to work for PA New Media’s Ananova website as a sub and writer. It was a really exciting time to be part of a new national media organisation.

At that point the digital world seem to offer limitless possibilities – a chance to hear fresh voices and cover things that didn’t get much attention on a national platform

But as it went on – on Ananova and elsewhere – the choice of topics became narrower and the coverage shallower.

It felt like a missed opportunity and after a few years, I left to become a sub on the Manchester Evening News print edition.

That disillusionment with the digital world fed into the creation of Barmcake. I even stopped doing my own blog, which is a sort of forerunner of the magazine.

I feel websites lack the personal touch of magazines and newspapers. Each edition of Barmcake is yours to hold, to savour, to read how you want. It’s not borrowed on a screen in a clutter of links and dowdy, keyword-heavy headlines.

Print is more personal.

I was reminded of that a few years ago when I was flicking through a paper, turned the page and there was a two-page picture spread of the inside of a doll’s house – with fantastic detail of each room

Now, if that had been a website link – say ‘See the amazing doll’s house, click here’ – I probably wouldn’t have looked at it.

But the photo, text and design on the printed edition stopped me in my tracks.

And it was me who chose to stop and look at it, not a website trying to guide me

Of course, I can’t do Barmcake without digital media.

I can get instant access to performers and venues via their websites and email addresses.

And Twitter is a great promotional tool.

Even the front page of each Barmcake is partially designed that way so it looks good on Twitter.

Crucially, it’s how you use all that information available on the internet.

And I think many websites, magazines and newspapers aren’t making the most of it. They are picking from the same narrow pool of stories.

Meanwhile arts coverage in regional newspapers – with a few notable exceptions – is not as good as it used to be.

Some newspaper bosses are so pleased they can offer the same size newspapers as 10 years ago with half the staff, they forget about the quality of the editorial content.

When I look at some of the free lifestyle magazines in shops and pubs, the editorial content seems to be a shoddy afterthought.

And some website and magazine interviews are written by people who don’t appear to know anything about their interviewees, beyond what the PR company has told them

So that’s another reason why I started Barmcake – I want the articles to be the top priority.

I don’t stint on research ­and writing and rewriting.

For a two-page article in issue 8, for example, I read four books and endlessly wrote and rewrote the article.

They were four books about The Fall so it wasn’t the worst thing ever.

Hashtag firstworldindieproblems

Pete Wylie was another reason I started Barmcake.

I read he was crowdfunding to make a new LP which to me was huge news.

But I couldn’t find much about it in magazines, newspapers and websites.

Now I’ve got Northern entertainment for the middle-aged in my strapline.

But I hate some middle-aged people’s attitudes to new bands, the sort of people who say: ‘Well, of course,  they sound a bit like the Velvet Underground but they are not as good as them – and I speak as someone who has a 23-minute out-take of John Cale whittling a spoon.’

But having said that, there are artistes aged 40 and upwards  – like Pete Wylie  – whose work is either being ignored or under-appreciated, while some fairly dull, conservative, twentysomething bands are lauded to the hilt, merely because of their age.

I also felt audiences aged 40 and over were being ignored by many websites and magazines – the sort of people, for example, who might live in West Yorkshire but travel to gigs or comedy shows in Sheffield and Manchester (hence my circulation area).

People who like a nice real ale pub, a good book and trips to theatres and galleries.

Those were the subjects I wanted to write about.

Plus I wanted to provide a decent listings service.

I used to love looking at City Life and Time Out and picking out gigs I wanted to see.

Can you do that on the internet? Not really, unless you want to wade through lists of venues or dates of gigs.

Barmcake is also a reaction against magazine shops like Magma and websites like Stack and Magculture.

They only consider design-led, rather than text-led, magazines (spoof trendy mag, above).

Their view, unfortunately, seems to dominate the indie-mag culture.

The Magma magazines are beautiful, for sure, but slightly formulaic – lots of photos, lots of white space.

Some of the articles can be slightly sterile and desperately in need of an edit.

I was brought up on 80s NME and Sounds with writers like Steven ‘Seething’ Wells and his  hectic, hectoring, hilarious prose, which is completely at odds with something you’d read in, say, Monocle.

Word magazine and Forty-20, a rugby league magazine, are other influences as they put – or did put in the case of Word – witty text first, before the design.

So a year before I left the MEN, I was thinking about going freelance and starting a magazine.

I went on a Guardian course about how to make one.

I wanted to know if I could make a magazine on my laptop and how much it would cost.

But the course wasn’t particularly helpful about either the basics of making a magazine or the money side of it.

And I realised I had a lot to learn when I went to a printer in Manchester after I went freelance.

I wanted someone to guide me about the basics of the printing process.

At the MEN, you simply had to press a button to send it to the printers. The page sizes, colours, etc were all set up for you.

So I came bounding into the shop, all enthusiastic, to be met by this spectacularly miserable bloke.

I said: ‘I’m going to make my own magazine and I was just wondering what I need to do.’

He said: ‘How many pages?’

‘Er..I don’t know, about 35.’

Shakes head: ‘You can’t have that number. What type of paper do you want?’

‘Er…I don’t know, just standard magazine paper.’

‘What sort of paper do you want for the front?’

‘Er…I don’t know.’

‘Do you want colour or black or white?

‘A mix of colour and black and white.’

‘Which pages are colour?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

I left the shop with my tail between my legs; my hopes not exactly crushed but dented.

Fortunately, I discovered the Footprint Workers Co-operative in Leeds who were very helpful and answered all my daft questions with patience.

I can definitely recommend them if you are starting your own magazine or fanzine.

So I had an idea of what I was going to cover (music, comedy, pubs, theatre, books. film, art).

I had an idea of how I was going to write it (make the writing as good as it can be, keep the articles short)

I wanted to target an over 40s audience living in and around Leeds, Sheffield and Manchester, (although I don’t mind who reads it -– I’m not going to tell a youth with a fashionable beard to ‘put the Barmcake down sunshine’)

I wanted to keep the design simple and retro (the headlines are meant to look like 70s sitcom credits).

And I wanted to make it as cheaply as possible – so I would do all or most of the writing, as I couldn’t pay anyone else, and I would deliver it.

I found a free design program (called Scribus) and I only use publicity photos or photos that I take myself.

I don’t charge for Barmcake because I want to get the magazines in the sorts of pubs, cafes and independent shops where people like to read books, newspapers and magazines.

In these sorts of places, most of the other magazines and newspapers are free.

Keeping it free also means less hassle for the owners of the pubs and cafes – no separate pots of money to keep etc.

I wanted a funny northern word for the title and Barmcake fits the bill.

There’s also the ‘You starting a print magazine in the internet age? You Barmcake!’

‘Northern entertainment for the middle-aged’ gives some idea of what the magazine’s about, but it is not entirely serious.

I don’t want to go down the professional northerner route:

(Hovis voice):‘Eeeeeeeh, we’re all right friendly in t’ north.

‘London? They never speak to anyone.’

I’m always up for challenging northernness, because let’s face it – some of the world’s most miserable people are in Yorkshire!

I also didn’t want to get stuck in a straight, white, indie, male, middle-aged rut where The Smiths, The Fall or Half Man Half Biscuit can never be criticised.

And where it would  be blasphemous to suggest that Temptation by Heaven 17 is better than Temptation by New Order.

Barmcake is A5 because I wanted something that people can fit in their pocket or bag when they are out and about and it only costs a first class stamp to post a copy.

Apart from postage, my other costs are printing and petrol.

So I need to find about £850 for each issue.

Initially I used some of my voluntary redundancy money from the MEN and money from my other work to pay for the magazine.

I started seeking advertising from issue 2 onwards.

My advertising revenue has gone up from £60 in issue 2 to £630 in issue 8.

It will be more than that in the new edition.

I feel that if you give people something to read, then they don’t just flick through the magazine and so they are more likely to see the adverts.

I am pleased that plan appears to be paying off.

But, it’s tricky balancing the amount of time you spend on editorial and advertising.

On some issues, I’ve left the advertising a little too late because I wanted to get the editorial right.

But, if I spend too much time on the advertising, I may get more ads in the short term, but I won’t keep the advertisers in the long term as the quality of the magazine will drop.

I set up a Paypal account for donations, which you can access via my website, and that brings in between £150 and £200 per issue, so I was more or less able to cover my costs for the first time for issue 8.

I also sent some copies to Australia for the first last time.

However I’d like to bring in more money through donations.

So I’ll go through how the magazine has developed over the years.

Here are some bits from Issue 1 (above).

That issue had interviews with Cud, the Wedding Present, the director of a Frank Sidebottom doc, and the Revolutions Brewing Company owners, among others.

Features included Maxine Peake, a pub crawl on the Tour de France Yorkshire route, and Alan Bennett.

I did ask for interviews with Maxine and Alan.

With Alan, Faber and Faber gave a curious response – not no, but: (Alan Bennett voice): ‘Mr Bennett is aware of your interest.’

(I like to think everyone at Faber speaks with an Alan Bennett accent).

I was hoping perhaps that they were giving him potential material for his diary.

That would be the dream for me: (Alan Bennett voice): ‘I used to be contacted by the Guardian, but now it’s only bread-related magazines.’

In general I find about 75% of people I contact agree to interviews.

I was excited to get the first issue out.

There were 1,000 copies for that, it’s been 1,500 copies from issue 2 onwards

There was a good response to Barmcake 1 – the title, strapline and the front cover probably made the biggest impact.

But in hindsight I felt the interviews were too short and there were too many, fairly ordinary, one-page previews.

I addressed those issues for Barmcake 2 by making most of the interviews two or three pages long and sticking about 6-7 previews on two pages at the back – and that’s been the format ever since.

So issue 2 (above) had interviews with Viv Albertine, Pete Wylie, Age of Chance, Steve Huison, among others.

My friend Richard wrote about why Otley is better than Prague for beer.

He has also done Bluetones and Skids interviews in other issues.

My friend Roshi has written about David Bowie and Count Arthur Strong.

And Prue, my wife, has interviewed Bryony Lavery and done a piece on the theatre company she co-founded – Root and Branch Productions (more northern entertainment for the middle-aged).

I’ve only used one feature from a writer I didn’t know as I want to be in a position to pay people for their work.

 Viv Albertine was one of my most important interviews I’ve done for Barmcake.

It’s one of the most popular pieces with readers and it encouraged other artistes to get in touch.

I thought her book was one of the best memoirs/autobiographies I’d read, yet many of the reviews concentrated on the Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious anecdotes and didn’t focus enough on her fascinating life.

She answered my questions within a day (some people take nearly 2 months) and I was really chuffed she’d taken the trouble to give such interesting answers.

For example I asked her: Was punk the only time she’d come across so many strong and interesting characters?

She said: “God no.  Those people weren’t that strong and interesting.  Vivienne Westwood was.  

“We were all very flawed.  But at least we didn’t hide our flaws, we flaunted them.  

“I would say it was the only time in my life when you were allowed to be yourself, not smiling and saying thank you all the time.  

“Not greasing the wheels and aspiring and careerist.”

 The Ken Dodd interview, from issue 5, in 2016 was also a highlight.

Here’s an extract:

He was fizzing with jokes and anecdotes.

When I mentioned I was from Huddersfield, he immediately recited a limerick about the town involving udders.

He told me an interviewer once asked if Dodd was his real name and he told him it was an anagram.

While I took that in, he’s onto the next joke.

I was also fascinated with how works an audience.

He said: “You play an audience like a musician plays his instrument.

“You know where the hotspots are, you know where you’ve got to work hard on them when they’re a bit stubborn, you know where to flirt with them, where to encourage them, and where to take it easy.

“You put little ad libs in, little asides, go faster, slower, louder, quieter, take it easy.”

 So it was great to interview Ken and it was great to interview John Cooper Clarke for the same issue.

The interview was difficult to set up but turned out well.

I was meant to be interviewing him at a gig in Buxton but my car broke down and I couldn’t get to the gig in time on the train.

The angle I went on was his accent – whether it was the most important thing about his work and whether living in Essex for 25 odd years had affected it.

Here’s an extract:

“Accent? I don’t think it’s at all important. It’s what the work contains.

“I don’t think the accent’s got anything to do with it.

“I think vocal quality might have something to do with it, as in musicality.

“Listening to my old stuff it sounds like I’ve got a problem with my adenoids, and it can’t be that because I had my adenoids removed when I was about eight-years-old.

“To be honest, I think my voice is better than it’s ever been.

“But that’s not because of the accent, it’s because of the sonorous baritone quality.”

And of course, I can’t think of anyone else who says ‘sonorous baritone quality’ quite like John Cooper Clarke – stretching the vowels and punctuating the words so they got a real rhythm., He makes run-of the mill words sound magnificent.

Issue 3, (above), had interviews with, among others, John Shuttleworth, John Bramwell, O’Hooley and Tidow, the organiser of the Glossop Record Club, and Professor Paul Salveson, who talked about railways and northern regionalism.

The latter is an example how I’ve occasionally moved away from my core subjects as I think it would interest readers.

In issue 7 I interviewed the marvellous Beers Manchester blogger who wrote about dealing with grief after his son died.

And in issue 8 I talked to Rosie Wilby who has written a really interesting book about monogamy.

One of the things I’ve enjoyed about Barmcake is finding out about wonderful artistes I didn’t know much about, like O’Hooley and Tidow, and looking into topics I’ve not really thought about much, such as non-monogamous relationships – and record clubs.

Glossop Record Club was the first of the groups or people I featured from Twitter.

I noticed the people who started following me were doing some interesting and unusual stuff.

In other issues I’ve done features on 8bitnorthxstitch, (pictured below) who makes fabulous cross-stitch creations of bands such as The Fall and TV shows such as Coronation Street

There’s Beer Mat Movies, who writes film reviews on beer mats

And Jennifer Reid, or as she calls herself, the pre-eminent broadside balladress of the Manchester region.

 In Issue 4, I decided to make a few tweaks to the structure with a picture-led centrespread and a bigger listings section.

I don’t want the magazine to date so my listings look up to four months ahead.

The listings are usually the first and last thing I do in the magazine.

I look at every gig venue, theatre, and gallery website in my circulation area, looking for potential star interviews, cover stars and centrespreads.

I listen to bands I’ve not heard of before who are playing at these venues.

Artistes are also contacting me now and I use three or four stories an issue from them

Once I get two or three big interviews, the rest of the magazine falls into place.

I feel it’s a bit like organising a festival – you need headliners plus strong supporting acts.

And once I get the headliners, I start looking for advertisers.

I have a mix of regular and new advertisers.

I then ask all my stockists, I ask local brewers and some businesses who follow me on Twitter.  

Most of my interviews are by email, the rest are phone interviews although I did one face-to-face chat with Martin Parr.

There is always a mad panic at the end of each issue , either because of a missing interview or ad, but all you can do is politely grovel with people to please, please, please in send the material.

As it’s just me making the magazine, there are no back-up features, no IT team to deal with technical problems, such as converting pdfs to jpgs.

Fortunately I’ve always managed to fill an issue in the end.

Once I’ve written and rewritten my pieces, I go back and check everything – the original source material, fact checks, spell checks.

The issue is then proofread by Prue and then by one of our friends.

I don’t want a daft literal or incorrect name to undermine the magazine, especially as Barmcake takes about two months to do, on and off, between my other work.

My printer then gives me a final proof before it goes to press and I get it back within a week.

The new Barmcake is due out midweek next week.

I like to do a big reveal on the day of publication but I can tell you it is the biggest Barmcake ever, with 9 exclusive interviews, more than any before, and 5 features – including Hylda Baker.

It takes me four  days to deliver the copies.

I cover an area bordered by Wigan, Ilkley and Sheffield.

The list of venues is on the website, although it will change slightly over the next few days. Venues ask to be stockists and readers also recommend places.

I keep about 300 copies back for people who want a copy in the post, and for friends and media people.

Then I do a Twitter promo campaign for about 2-3 weeks.

I only put one article per issue online and I only do that months after the issue comes out.

In February, I start on a new issue.

It will be the fifth anniversary issue and a chance to take stock.

Ideally I’d like to be making more money for it, getting regular sponsorship from a suitable partner, and in the long term looking to pay others to write.

But anyway, that’s the story of Barmcake.

I hope you have enjoyed it

[monster-trail-dev]

9/13/18 - My research trip to Hendersonville, NC

Details and more photos under the cut!

This past week some classes were cancelled due to the hurricane, so I took a daytrip up to Hendersonville, NC to get inspiration for Monster Trail. I wish I could have taken more roadside photos, but I was by myself so I couldn’t photograph while I was on the highway. Anyway here’s an outline of my trip!

I parked at the visitors’ center and looked around inside. They has a series of photography books and I found one on NC summer camps! Perfect for what I’m trying to do. It was full of old photos (like 1920s) of summer camps in the region. Flipping through it, I discovered a paragraph on an oral tradition about a creature called the Tajar - it’s a creature like a badger, tiger, and jaguar mixed together. If you see it once, you forget what it looks like, but if you see it three times, you become friends with it. The camp where it originated used to have a mailbox where girls could write to the Tajar. Apparently it’s spread to lots of Girl Scout camps around the US. A little more info here. I was a little surprised to find new folklore since I thought I’d researched everything weird in NC, so I’m excited to have found out about this! I may adapt it for Monster Trail since it’s a nice combo of mystery and fun.

I spent about 3 hours just walking up and down the historic Main Street, going in most of the shops. I noticed that antique shops and art galleries/artisan craft stores seemed to be the most common. There were also several gem shops. I’ve always liked the idea of a weird store in a small town, but it’s been done before (Gravity Falls’ Mystery Shack, TAZ: Amnesty’s Cryptonomica, and probably others). However a gem shop definitely feels magical because of the history of natural formations. Something to consider.

In fact, I spent a lot of time in the Mineral & Lapidary Museum on Main Street. 

They have a fragment of a meteorite that landed in the county a hundred years ago. I also learned that NC is a great place to find quality emeralds. Fossils and stones are another research hobby of mine, and I think that kind of natural history complements the cultural history of crafts and artwork I saw on my visit.

When I had finished exploring Main Street, I decided to just drive around and get lost in the mountains. I took some neighborhood streets and even ended up on a gravel road or two. I saw a whole bunch of wild turkeys in a clearing, and I’m pretty sure I saw one of the white squirrels that Hendersonville is known for. 

I love driving around in the woods and seeing the mountains looming over me. I started to think more about the feeling of isolation one gets in the mountains - it’s a little lonely but it can also be fun to be alone with your thoughts. I also think this sense of loneliness or melancholy fits really well with the idea of a humanized modern monster, like my characters. Each of them has a potential for melancholy, but a summer camp is supposed to be a fun place where they can be in community. The trick for this comic is going to be balancing the melancholy feeling of the setting with the warmth and humor of characters who are friends.

That’s about it for what I did. I’m trying to process my thoughts more with thumbnail sketches and paintings based on the photos I took. I also found this little meadow that’s pretty much what I imagined when I was making my test page last week:

So I was pretty excited about that.

Posts with artwork and potentially more photos should follow soon! I had hoped to go to Boone this weekend as well, but with the unpredictable weather I didn’t think it was wise. Hopefully I’ll take a day trip there next weekend.

[timmyrx2000]

Dipper Steps Up: Chapter 8

Chapter Index: (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13)

Chapter 8

Dipper and Mrs. Taylor ran to the stair, Dipper in the lead. He tore up ahead of her to the second floor and tried to open Chuck's door and found it locked. "Mabel!"

From inside the room came Mabel's frantic voice: "Dipper! Something's wrong with—"

"Go away!"

Dipper heard Mrs. Taylor gasp. The voice was Chuck's but then again it didn't sound a bit like Chuck's normal tone—lower, grating, more guttural. Dipper pounded on the door. "Come on, this isn't funny! Open up!"

He flinched as a shattering crash of glass came from the far side. Mabel screamed. Dipper threw himself against the door, bounced off, and went sprawling. He got up and charged the door again—

And bowled over Mabel, who'd just thrown the door open. They tumbled to the floor together. Mabel waved her arm wildly. "He broke the window!"

"Chuck!" Mrs. Taylor yelled, stepping over and around the two fallen Mystery Twins. "What—where is he?"

"He broke the window!" Mabel said again, getting up. "With the chair! And then he jumped out!"

"From up here?" Dipper asked, standing up. Mrs. Taylor went to the broken window, next to the bed, and he stood beside her looking out. The window had been one big pane, completely gone now, except for half a dozen sharp shards left clinging to the sides and top of the frame. A window screen had been pushed out and hung crazily off to the left. The blue curtain on that side hung out of the opening, ripped so a piece of it flopped loose.

"Where is he?" Mrs. Taylor asked. She turned and ran out to the hall and down the steps. Dipper leaned out.

Below him, fragments of broken glass from dinner-plate size on down littered the grass below the window, and a few feet away the desk chair lay on its back, as though it had been hurled out in a fit of anger. No sign of Chuck.

"He just—he went crazy!" Mabel said, sobbing. "He told me to get out of the chair, I stood up, he pushed past me and locked the door and picked up the chair, and I yelled—then he threw the chair right through the window!"

"You OK?" Dipper asked her.

"I'm scared! He looked so—wild!"

"You're not hurt, though?"

"No."

"Come on—let's see if we can find Chuck!"

He wasn't in the back yard—but some of his blood was. A splash of it as big as Dipper's hand was right under the window, and a smear of it on the fence showed that Chuck must have climbed over it at the corner of the house, where he could head to the street. Mrs. Taylor was yelling Chuck's name and staring all around the back yard, though he couldn't have been there—no place to hide.

"Take care of Mrs. Taylor," Dipper told Mabel. "Get her back inside and have her call the police. I'm gonna see if I can track him."

"Track—how?"

"He's bleeding," Dipper said. "Not too bad, but I can see a drop here and there. I'll try to follow him."

"What—what will you do if you catch him?" Mabel asked.

"Not hurt him. Try to hold him until the police come. I'll call if I find him."

They went through the house, and Dipper ran to the front door. "Go get Mrs. Taylor inside," he told Mabel. "Make sure she calls the police. They wouldn't believe you or me."

"I'll do it."

As he opened it, Mabel called, "Dipper—"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful!"

Tracking proved harder than he'd thought. The outside of the fence showed a small streak of blood, but no spots showed on the lawn—none he could find. Oh, man! I wish Wendy were here—she knows all about this tracking stuff, and I don't know anything!

He walked to the street, taking the most direct path across the lawn, and went ten feet one way, ten the other, before he caught sight of a nickel-sized red splotch, roughly pear-shaped and already drying.

Forcing himself not to run—he might miss something—Dipper walked along the sidewalk of Selborne Drive, head down, gaze on the pavement. He took out his phone and called Grunkle Ford's number. When Ford answered, Dipper said, "Ford, I've got a big problem."

"Go on," Ford told him.

Quickly Dipper sketched in what he knew, what he had deduced, and what he feared. "Mabel says he went crazy and jumped out of the window," he finished. "And I'm almost sure he did that the instant I mentioned Northwest's name, but I wasn't in the room. Not even on the same floor!"

"Possession," Ford said. "Ghosts can gain a sudden energy by being called by their earthly names—and they have the uncanny ability of being several places at once, or it seems that way. The odds are high that's what happened. Let me consult some resources and I'll call you right back."

"Hurry. I'm trying to follow him, but I don't know how long I can stay on the trail."

A nickel-sized drop every ten steps or so, that was the track. And when he reached the intersection with Estates Drive even that vanished. At the corner, down on the sidewalk in the curve of a split-faced fieldstone wall, he saw three somewhat larger drops, spaced close together, as though Chuck had stood there considering which way to turn. Nothing from there on, one way or the other, on Estates Drive. He had seen no one to ask—no potential witnesses. "Come on, Grunkle Ford!" he muttered coming back to the corner with the blood spots and feeling the afternoon sun warm on his face.

As though in response, his phone chimed. "Hello!"

Ford didn't even greet him before diving in: "Dipper, here's what I have. It's based not only on research but also on my helping Fiddleford clear out some of the things the Northwests left behind when they had to sell their house. Listen carefully."

"I am."

"You may want to take notes."

"I'll remember, just tell me," Dipper said.

"Very well. I'm pretty certain, judging from some things he'd collected—one room was full of Nathaniel Northwest memorabilia, though of course Preston took most of it, but he left some things in bad condition behind—"

"Please, Grunkle Ford! I don't need the whole backstory!"

"Yes, forgive me. Anyway, from some of the memorabilia, it's clear Northwest was a man who believed in superstitions—some of which might not have been just foolish imaginings at all. When he first came to Gravity Falls—the valley, I mean, because the town—"

"Hadn't been built then, I know," Dipper said impatiently. "He started out building a log hut and trading with the Native Americans in the area. I think Pacifica told me that much."

"Yes, trading for furs and food among three tribes: the Shoshone, Klamet, and Liksiyu," Ford agreed. "The valley is near where all three territories touch—but I'm off the subject. Now, you may know that the Indians—I'm sorry, Native Americans, that term wasn't as widely used when I was in school—no, sorry, sidetracked again, let me just go on. The tribes were afraid of the valley and rarely ventured very far in. Northwests' trading post was near the valley entrance, at the Twin Buffs, and the Native Americans warned him of ghosts and spirits farther in."

"Come on, Grunkle Ford!"

"Patience, Dipper! Northwest was interested in their ghost tales and seemed to accept them as true, and so the Native Americans told him more of their beliefs and lore. Anyway, an idea that he may have picked up from one of those groups is that the spirit of a warrior can refuse to go to the afterlife—can become a ghost—and can reincarnate in the body of a descendant or relative. Listen: The possession cannot be complete until the spirit forces the body of its host to 'walk the path of twisting fate.'"

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea."

Dipper slumped, ready to scream in frustration.

"However, let me tell you a little more that may be a clue," Ford returned. "In one room that Fiddleford and I cleaned out, we found an old notebook pages brown and brittle with age, obviously from the nineteenth century, in which someone had drawn in pencil page after page of labyrinths. The little story about the spirit and possession was on the first page, just six or eight lines, but probably not in Nathaniel's handwriting. He seems to have been next door to illiterate. Perhaps his wife wrote it for him. The drawings of the labyrinths are crude and I think it likely that he did them himself."

"Labyrinth." Like the one in Greek mythology where Theseus confronted the Minotaur.

"Labyrinth, yes. Not a maze," Ford said. "Most people confuse the two. The difference is—"

"A maze has intersections, different branches and a complex path in and out," Dipper said. "A labyrinth has only one very complex path, and no branches or intersections. With a labyrinth, the goal isn't to find a different way out, but to take a long twisting walk and then retrace your steps back to the entrance, it's a ritual meditation thing, I know."

"Very good!" Ford said. "Now, independently of the old notebook, I have learned that one of the tribes, I think the Liksiyu, though I may be wrong, made ritual labyrinths just for this purpose—not walled in, just patterns of stones laid out on the ground for the host of a possessing spirit to walk, a guide for his or her steps. If Northwest can force your friend to construct one of these and to walk through it and out again, then the possession may become complete. The soul of your friend will be cut loose from his body and Norhtwest will own it for the rest of its life. However, time is of the essence. If it doesn't force the body through the labyrinth ritual, the possessing spirit cannot control the body for more than three days and nights before it will lose its hold, and then the original owner of the body will re-emerge as dominant. You don't want to let that happen. If it does, invariably, though the original spirit is back in the body—the person becomes insane for life."

Dipper's heart pounded. "If I find Chuck, how can I stop that from happening?"

"You must exorcise the possessing spirit. I'll send you full instructions on how to do that by—what is it called? Electric mail?"

"Email," Dipper said. "Do it!"

"Within the hour. I hope all this helps."

Something nagged at Dipper, but it was just beyond his mental reach. "Yeah, it does," he said to Ford. A black-and-white police car with the blue, gold, and white Piedmont Police shield painted on the front door pulled up to the curb near the intersection, stopped, and two patrolmen got out. "Gotta go," Dipper said on the phone. "Call you later."

One of the officers said, "Hey, kid. You Chuck Taylor?"

"No," Dipper said. "I'm his friend, Dipper Pines. I've been following him, though. He cut himself going through the window and left a trail of blood up to here, and it just stops. See these?" He pointed to the three red spots on the sidewalk.

"You have any ID, kid?" the other cop asked.

"I'm too young for a driver's license or learner's permit," Dipper said, taking out his wallet, "but here's my school ID." He pulled out the card, and another one, laminated cardboard, tucked behind it slipped out too and fluttered toward the ground. The first cop caught it in mid-air.

"Mason Pines," the other policeman read from the school ID card. "What did you say your first name was?"

"Dipper," the second one told him.

"It's a nickname," Dipper said. "I don't like my real name."

"Mason's an OK name," the policeman who had caught the dropped card said. Smiling, he held it up and asked, "Official Junior Ghost Harasser, huh?"

"Uh—I was a big fan of that show when I was a kid. I mean younger," Dipper said. "The stars were at a convention in San Francisco, and they handed these out as souvenirs. They've got both the guys' autographs."

"I like that show myself," the policeman said, handing the Ghost Harassers card back.

As Dipper tucked both cards into his wallet, the other cop hunkered down and studied the spatters of blood. "What do you think, Joe?" he asked.

The other policeman looked up and down the street. "No more blood spots?" he asked Dipper.

"No, sir. Not in either direction."

Joe nodded and said, "My guess is he was picked up, Frank."

"Not by one of our cars," Frank said straightening up. "We'd have heard."

"No. I think he waited here and tried to thumb down a passing car. He waited long enough for three drops of blood to fall, and then it happened."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Somebody stopped for him."

"Let's go."

Joe said to Dipper, "Good work, son. You go back now. We've got this."

"Sir," Dipper said, "you ought to know—Chuck's a good guy. Never been in trouble, never. But right now—he's not himself. When you find him, don't hurt him."

"We won't, son. But you have to worry about something else."

"What?"

"He's already hurt himself." To be continued

Note from the Authors: This was just an idea I had but the one who really worked his magic and wrote almost all of this is none other than BillEase. He’s an amazing author who usually hangs out at fanfiction.net. Don’t pass up on a chance to check out his stuff. This guy is AMAZING. He wrote the story, I just gave the plot.