#it should both help you improve ur writing and build up some pieces

[sokokoko]

Ahhh I like my newest book cover so much

I took the photo of this bird myself 😌

[umbrvx]

i like ur art. its great and interesting!! i really like your artstyle and i really like the way u draw hsy, yjh, and kdj. you captured them so well in terms of vibes/character. also i was wondering do u have any advice to improve on drawing anatomy/poses/faces?

wahh thank you so much...!! i feel like im still trying to figure them out in a lot of ways but i do really like ironing out my visual interpretations of them so im really happy to hear if people like what im coming up with

also anon you super activated the part of my brain that cant help but yap about art theory... i spent some time writing as many tips as i could think of. unfortunately i dont think i have the time currently to do a fully illustrated guide, but ill still try to include some visual examples:

[incoming wall of text lol]

ANATOMY:

to preface i think that like 100% of the time you should reference a real life photo for anatomy rather than other artwork or drawn references. the best way to learn the body is by… well, actually looking at the body! but also artwork is informed by a person's own artistic ability/stylization choices/sense of idealism, so while looking at art can help give you an idea on how to break down forms, i think you would be best served observing real life references. i labor on this point because i do think that having over relied on drawn reference material and avoiding photographic references on the basis of not being interested on realism hindered me as a largely self-taught artist as a kid, so i want to encourage live or photographic reference since anatomy is one of the foundations from which everything else is built on. that being the case, all of my doodles i'm doing for this are going to be for the sake of example rather than to strictly say how you should or should not be drawing something

-> when you are doing a study of a photo, just try copying it as best as you can. pay close attention to the natural lines and shapes of the body -- the S-curve shape of the leg, the triangular shape of the forearm, the trapezoid shape of hips/thighs when they sit, and so on. note where the body folds or squishes or pulls; how mass will shift to accommodate a certain position. if a form is hard to visualize, focus on the negative space and carve that out, rather than strictly drawing the positive space.

don't expect to get it perfect the first time. in fact, iterate on it multiple times to build understanding. try doing it to a timer of 15, then 10, then 5 minutes. doing this will force you to have to prioritize the most important shapes. you can help reinforce this by using a thicker brush or a brush with no pen pressure (no joke ms paint works great for this) to force you to be loose and not become preoccupied with details.

-> pinterest is a great resource for finding and compiling photo reference material

-> organic shapes are curved, so embracing/emphasizing that (particularly for the extremities) can help make your drawings look more natural or fluid

POSES: -> it all begins & ends with contrapposto… you've probably heard of the line of action, which is related. if you're offsetting the shoulders & hips, it: makes poses more natural, more dynamic, and helps the pose sort of "draw itself" -- the legs will follow the direction of the hips, and you can use the arms to reinforce the angles

-> context is key. don't ask: what pose should i draw? instead ask: what do i want this character to convey? what does happiness, anger, sadness, and so forth look on this particular character? how do they express that? consider these drawings: these are both ostensibly the same pose, but look at how changing just the shape of the spine recontextualizes it.

for more on pose design i recommend watching Tracer & Pose Design 101 - The Animation of Overwatch by New Frame Plus (i promise this is a genuinely super informative video).

to expand on this, in general, all of the components of a piece (background, composition, pose, etc.) are best considered in conjunction rather than separately. it is difficult to choose a pose and then choose a background because they are missing the context that would make a piece cohesive. when you are planning a drawing, try to begin with your general concept/idea/prompt and then do several thumbnails -- small and quick doodles that should take no longer than 5 minutes each -- developing it: you may find that the pose and bg will naturally fall into place.

-> silhouette: the degree to which you need to push this varies by style but generally speaking the pose needs to be readable; i.e. instantly recognizable. try to keep important elements of the gesture outside of the silhouette. for example, if the character is pointing, keep that arm out of the interior of the body. the same pose can be more or less readable or dynamic depending on where the character is pointed in relation to the viewer

-> exaggeration!! goes along with the previous point. push the pose as much as you can (and what makes sense for your style) to communicate your pose as clearly and as intensely as possible.

FACES: -> i highly recommend the app Handy Art Reference Tool by Belief Engine for all things related to drawing hands/heads/feet. its on both android and ios. it isn't free -- it costs around $3 -- but that is seriously such a small price to pay for the amount of utility you get out of it: the hands models are fully poseable (there's also pose presets), you can rotate the head models however you want, and there is 3-point customizable lighting. it is really helpful for getting those super tricky and hyperspecific head angles that you just can't find a real life reference for. that being said given that there's only a few different head model variants, bear in mind how differences in features can affect what exactly a face will look like in those angles.

-> i still recommend doing studies of real people. as with anything else, learning generalized proportions is important, even if you are going to later on bend or break this depending on style

-> as for my own approach... it kind of depends on the style i'm doing at that particular time. for my paintings (what id consider my main style) i approach a character with a few real-world features in mind and then apply them to the best of my ability. it usually will take a few iterations to land on an interpretation i really like as i try out different things. a lot of the face also gets developed during rendering rather than through my initial sketch too, as i adjust for lighting and correct proportions on the fly

(look how much this image changes between sketch and render lol)

if i were to recommend anything, i think it would be to nail down your most distinct features first -- the ones that will make your character's face recognizable, and could apply regardless of art style. in my case with kim dokja, i knew when i first started drawing him that i wanted to give him a longer face and down-turned eyes. when i decided to do the disco elysium inspired set, in which i was breaking out of my comfort zone by letting go of any idealizations focusing on conveying characterization/making them feel "real", i landed on some more specific traits (defined lower lids/perpetually tired eyes/eyebags(?) the crease there idk how to describe it) which i continue to try to evoke even if im drawing something much more cartoony

(pictured are my first kdj -> disco elysium style -> my post de-style kdj)

as a side note, this very same process changed yjh much more dramatically

(^ that first guy is mad someone else)

those handful of key features will be the thing that you can then take into a simpler style and simplify or exaggerate to whatever degree suits you. you can also play with shape theory (square = sturdy/solid, circle = natural/smooth/welcoming, triangle = energetic/dangerous). shape theory doesn't necessarily need to be so rigid -- you can combine shapes as you please to convey whatever vibe you're going for -- so please think of it as a tool that may help rather than a rigid law you must abide by.

-> expressions: exaggerate them. thats kind of it!! make it big!!! you wanna be able to really feel those emotions. the principles of squash & stretch help here: think of how the muscles move when you, say, open the eyes or mouth really big. as one side of the face stretches open, the other side squashes to accommodate it

even without changing the position of the jaw here, moving the nose and scrunching the eyes will sell the expression

you can also play with squash/stretch to break proportions to sell a feeling more

since expressions are just, well, poses for the face, everything else for poses applies here (and facial expressions & pose should also be considered in tandem). while the term contrapposto itself just refers to the offset of the shoulders & hips, the similar principle of asymmetry also carries here as that will help make the expression a bit more dynamic.

and i think... that's it!! all i can think of at least. i hope it helps anon!!!

[artificialqueens]

In Retrograde : Chapter Three (branjie) - Ephemerals

Synopsis: After spending months uninspired, Vanessa, a local reporter, becomes infatuated with writing a story surrounding the downfall of a police officer discharged after killing an innocent man.

When Brooke Lynn returns to her hometown after her life begins to fall apart, she doesn’t expect to find solace in the charismatic brunette who seems just a little too invested in uncovering all the secrets of her past.

It was just like any regular Tuesday night patrolling the streets of Toronto for Sergeant Hytes. In the passenger seat sat her partner, Constable Oddly, bored out of her mind. The pair made quite a duo, on and off the field. Over the years, Yvie had proven herself as Brooke’s only decent friend in Toronto. It did involve brazen nights out fuelled by binge drinking and drugs, but it was a nice change for her to be authenticity herself around someone. And honestly Yvie was unlike anyone she had ever met.

“Look, can’t we just ditch this and go back to my place and get stoned,” Yvie pleaded, Brooke shooting her a stern look in response. She impatiently tapped her fingers on the wheel as they aimless drove around.

“That seems like a one-way ticket to getting fired,” Her attention diverted back onto the road.

“The old Brooke would have done it,” groaned Yvie, playfully punching Brooke’s arm, “I miss that bitch.”

“That bitch had to clean up her act, remember.”

Brooke missed the old version of her too. Spontaneous and fun, she didn’t care what people think of her. Now, things were much different. She went to rehab (under the radar, of course), received a promotion and she was just months away from getting married. Brooke couldn’t be a party girl anymore. It was time to grow up. Luckily, Yvie understood what she had to do, but it didn’t mean she had to be happy with it.

“Yeah, you had to clean up your act for that fiancé of yours,” Yvie stated, “Who you don’t even like.”

Yvie was right and she knew it. The couple was doomed from the start. Brooke was much too independent and mostly unfazed by their relationship. During the time they had been friends, Yvie had seen Brooke engage in very brief affairs but she wasn’t one to stick around for long. It might be commitment issues, but Yvie honestly thought it ran deeper than that. So, the fact that Brooke has been with Luke for so long really was a surprise.

“He’s a good guy, Yves.”

“That’s not usually how people talk about their significant others,” Yvie smirked. Brooke just shrugged the comment off. It wasn’t the first time Yvie would make a comment like that, and it wouldn’t be the last time.

“So, are we getting stoned or what, Bee?”

“Shuga would kill us if she found out. Especially if something happens and we don’t report back.”

“That’s not a no,” Yvie playfully added. Brooke shook her head, “It’s a no.”

“I hate when you’re serious, bitch. Let’s hope there is some dumb crimes tonight to keep us busy.”

So, they drive. And just like any regular Tuesday, it’s uneventful. As time dragged on, both girls were awaiting some action. The streets were completely still, not a single soul embarking out into the nightlife.

Then, the radio goes off.

“Requiring backup for a domestic dispute at Wexford. Victim dead on arrival. Suspect armed and on the run. Caucasian, 6’2, slim build. Last seen wearing a burgundy t-shirt and grey sweatpants.”

Yvie beamed in anticipation, “Heading towards Wexford, over.”

…

Brooke is awoken by a violent pounding in her head. Instantly groaning at it’s appearance, too hungover to actually do something about it. It’s beating through her skull like a drum. Unsure how long she was out for, she glances at her phone. 10:27.Her mind wanders, memories of the night before foggy in her brain. That girl. What in the world was up with her?

After futilely trying to go back to sleep, Brooke eventually prys herself away from her bed in search of painkillers. She pads into the en-suite, disheartened by the completely empty medicine cabinet. While there, she washes last nights makeup and grime from her skin. She stares at her reflection for just a moment too long, before treading downstairs to scour the guest bathroom for drugs. Brooke passes her mother in the kitchen without a word, retrieves two ibuprofen capsules and swallows them down with a swig of tap water. Heading back towards her bedroom, she’s stopped in her tracks by her mother.

“Where were you last night?”

“I didn’t know I had to report to you,” Brooke wanders into the kitchen, her mother on her tail. It was easier to rip the bandage off, endure the conversation now rather than actively avoid her. She props herself up against a cupboard awaiting her mother’s scolding.

“While you live under my roof you do as I say,” her mother’s stare is icy cold. Arms folded, stern. For a second, Brooke is taken back to her teenage years, where she could do no right in her mother’s eyes. Her walls are up in preparation for a fight.

“I’m thirty-three, I’m sorry that I assumed I was allowed to be independent.”

“Well, you lost that privilege when you almost died during a cocaine binge, remember?” There’s a beat, Brooke’s mouth agape, “Someone has to babysit you since you constantly fail at taking care of yourself. I’ve booked you an appointment with your old therapist, no discussion.”

Brooke had to admit, she should have seen it coming. Her father wouldn’t have hinted at the idea unless her mother was devising a plan. Yesterday was a warning.

“What if I just don’t-“

“No discussion. The appointments at three.”

Brooke huffs as she storms off like an upset child. She marches up the stairs and climbs back under the covers of her bed. Her head continues throbbing despite the medication but she does her best to doze off, praying she sleeps through that three o’clock appointment.

…

“I don’t think I’m able to write this story, Ms Visage,” Vanessa meekly admits, standing before her editor. Deadlines fast approaching, Michelle sitting emotionless, scribbling on another reporter’s draft. The office is outdated, with wooden sliding and retro styled furnishing. If the budget allowed for it, the first thing Michelle would do is redesign the place but the reality of working for the local newspaper meant money was tight.

“And why is that?” Her gaze doesn’t wander from her work. Vanessa gulps, billions of excuses flying through her head. I’m unsure how to get close enough to her to get the story. She seems like a nice girl and I misjudged her. I almost knocked her over and she was super pretty and nice to me. I couldn’t even speak to her properly.

She could have had her story, but Vanessa ran straight in the opposite direction.

“I was too ambitious,” it’s a lie.

It peaks Michelle’s interest. She glances up above her glasses, unconvinced.

“Too ambitious? Go on.”

“I wanted to write an exposè, y’know. Deep dive into her life, find out how someone ends up killin’ a kid. Talk to her friends, family maybe.”

“That doesn’t sound ambitious, it sounds like journalism,” Michelle is absolutely unimpressed. She drops the pen from her hand and reclines in her chair. Vanessa stands still, waiting to be reprimanded for wasting her time.

“Miss Mateo, you are a very talented journalist. Much too talented to be writing for this newspaper all your life. You have a rare opportunity here to establish yourself as a reporter. I want you to write this story. Forget the deadline, hand in some shitty pieces about local events in the meantime. Don’t be afraid to pursue this. It’s the first interesting idea that has come my way in years.”

The response was the exact opposite of what Vanessa expected. She was ready for a slap on the wrist, to forget about the whole ordeal. Write an article about the local nursing home for the hundredth time. Stay content in her slump for a little longer.

There’s a story here begging to be shared to the world. A story like nothing Vanessa has written before. She’s not going to give up this time.

“Okay,” Vanessa is strangely inspired by the challenge, “I accept the challenge, Ms Visage.”

There’s a skip in her step as Vanessa leaves her editor’s office. Maybe this was her big break.

…

As three o’clock rolls around, Brooke nervously awaits her appointment with her phone glued to her hand. Her frantic texts to Nina receiving instant worried replies. Rightfully so, there was a pattern of Brooke’s self-destructive behaviour increasing after her visits with therapists over the years. Nina didn’t understand why exactly, since the point was to help improve her mental state. But having Brooke confront her feelings head on? It was a risky decision to say the least. A string of texts from Nina come through rapidly one after another.

n: you’ll be fine, b it’s only an hour of ur life i’m going out tonight w work girls u should come x

As much as Brooke would like to go out for another consecutive night, she couldn’t subject Nina to the consequences of her joining them. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Nina was ostracised by her colleagues for being friends with a murderer. Nina deserved the entire world. Brooke had come to the conclusion that their friendship was one better off kept secret. For Nina’s sake.

b: don’t think i’ll be welcome

Almost immediately there’s a response:

n: they will love u besides u can’t turn down a drink x

Regardless if she was accompanied by Nina or not, both girls were aware of Brooke’s intentions for the night. As soon as she could possibly leave this building, she will, heading directly towards the closest alcohol vendor. It would be nice if she wasn’t alone while she did it.

b: fine, u have convinced me x

“Miss Hytes? Doctor Envy is ready to see you now.”

…

Tires skid on wet asphalt, blue and red lights flashing, sirens blaring through the city streets. A quarter of an hour had passed of their manhunt, the novelty was finally wearing thin. News gushes through the radio, reported sightings, updates, anything. Eyes glued to signs of movement, Yvie’s soaking up every miniscule detail of the city. Jobs like this one were the exact reason she joined the force. The adrenaline courses through her veins like a drug. Brooke’s extra few years on Yvie had caused her to become jaded. She was just waiting for the excitement to die down so she can clock off and indulge in a glass of wine at home. Of course she wanted the perpetrator to be caught and justice to be served, but pursuits like this were plain exhausting.

A call comes through and Brooke has her fingers crossed it’s home time. Her heart sank as Superintendent Cain’s voice bellowed through the speaks, “Any sightings yet girls?”

“It looks like the apocalypse has hit Toronto,” joked Yvie, “There’s not a single person out.”

“The guy’s Damon Carmichael. Been causing trouble for years,” Brooke recognised the name. She’d never dealt with him herself, but he had been a headache of her colleagues. There was a series of charges scattered all over the county in his name.

“There’s a dead woman rotting in his apartment. I don’t care if you bring back his corpse, I want him caught.”

The phone clicked off abruptly, the orders loud and clear. Brooke let out a sigh as drove down the same street for the umpteenth time. Streetlights dull, barely illuminating the empty road. She’s sure the neighbours are annoyed by them at this point. It was just another night on the job, keeping the country safe.

Out of the corner of her eye, Yvie swore she spotted something. Wound up on anticipation, Brooke just assumed paranoia had finally set in. However, Yvie’s adamant someone’s hiding by the church. Bringing the car to a halt, they decided to investigate. Gun firmly in hand, Yvie exited the car rushing directly into the darkness. Blood pumping, Brooke followed suit hand clutching the gun attached to her waist.

“Police!”

As Yvie announced their presence, something dashed away from them. It’s far too dim for them to work out what they can see. The younger girl is quick on her feet, Brooke in tow. A man emerged onto the dimly lit street. Burgundy sweatshirt, slim, young. A picture perfect match. Both women raised their guns in response.

“Freeze!” Brooke called. The man glanced back as he sprinted ahead. They picked up speed, trailing behind him. Yvie was just in reach, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. An attempt to tackle him is thwarted as he shoves the younger girl backwards, toppling onto the pavement. He keeps running.

“I said freeze!”

Brooke knew what she had to do. In front, he’s losing traction. Panting heavily, feet battering the concrete. She’s caught up. So has Yvie, who had dusted herself off with more motivation than ever before. With Yvie ahead, Brooke comes to a stop.

I don’t care if you bring back his corpse, I want him caught.

Yvie grappled him around his neck, the man writhing in her grip. His fist flies up, the impact straight to the jaw. He continued to thrash around, Yvie unable to secure her restraint. Hands shaking, Brooke raised her gun. If Yvie tightens her grasp, she’d have a clear shot.

“Fucking bitches!” It’s spat straight onto Yvie’s face. Agitated, she raises her knee into his stomach. He brought his free hand to strike Yvie again.

“Didn’t you ever learn not to hit women,” she hissed directly into his ear. The arm around his neck constricts him just for a moment. He’s still flailing in her grasp, but he’s still enough for Brooke to fire. Finger to the trigger.

Bang.

Bang.

The echoing of the gunshots ring as blood pools at Yvie’s feet. She has let go, but he’s wailing, still squirming on the sidewalk. Two shots straight to the chest. Yvie fell to her knees, drenched in his blood. Streets of Toronto painted red. Everything’s blurry in Brooke’s head. The gun is still raised towards him. She’s frozen.

…

“It wasn’t your fault, Brooke Lynn. You were just doing your job,” Doctor Envy shifts in her seat uncomfortably. The last time Brooke was here, she was just a destructive addict. Miles away from her usual cases in this small town, but things were different now. Years of psychology classes couldn’t have prepared her to be face to face with a murder.

“I wish people would stop telling me that,” Brooke slumps into her chair, sulking. The conversation had run in circles for the first half of the session. Doctor Envy prying into the very few facts she had learnt from the past. Addiction. Self-Injury. Relapse. Usually after years of knowing a client, some walls have been broken down. But everything Doctor Envy knew about Brooke was from medical files and newspaper reports. The most significant information shared was about her relationship with Luke starting and ending. She hated predicting the future of her clients, but it was inevitable. Unless Brooke started opening up about her feelings, she was a lost cause.

Doctor Envy scrawls meaningless notes down on her clipboard, each stroke filling the empty silence. Brooke isn’t going to crack. Not today, not ever. Brooke intently watches the hands on the clock get closer to the moment she can leave.

“You aren’t evil, Brooke.” She says it out loud, her voice shaking slightly. She says because she thinks it’s what Brooke wants to hear. Needs to hear. Brooke acts like it is white noise. Unconvinced by her words, Doctor Envy repeats herself.

“You’re not evil.”

“You don’t know that,” Brooke interjects. Her stare is cold and uninviting. She adjusts her posture, leans forward, spits, “You don’t know anything about me.”

She’s tired of waiting for confessions to pour out. The truth is only going to reveal itself if she rips it out with her own hands. Tough love.

“I know enough. Sometimes, it’s what you don’t say that matters most. Everyone in your life can see that you are struggling and they want to help you. But only you can start that journey to recovery.”

Frustrated, Brooke stands up, “Thank you for your time.”

“Stop running from yourself, Brooke,” Doctor Envy adds. A bookend to a bad conversation.

The door slams shut.

…

Vanessa is dressed to the nines. She’s in a leather ensemble: tight skirt, sandals laced to her thighs, braids flowing down from the crown of her head. Silky is ecstatic with her handy work. Sitting on the floor of her apartment, the girls took swigs from a bottle of vodka. Everyone was ready on time (for once), their cab moments away.

When A’keria had invited them all out, Silky had insisted to makeover Vanessa. It wasn’t a new thing, the girls often took turns dolling each other up. But it was Silky and at times she could be violently enthusiastic. Especially since Vanessa had accidentally ignored them all week, devoted on this story. A story which she was avoiding telling them about, knowing how unimpressed they will be.

They head out to a club the next town over. Nightlife in their small town was lifeless, full of drunks and rowdy men. They preyed on the presence of a female. Vanessa had seen it the night before. She had been around enough that the locals left her alone, but they flocked towards the first sight of fresh meat. It was a more balanced playing field when the numbers were equal. And from what A’keria had said, their group tonight was larger than normal.

“I have something to tell you,” Vanessa shares as they step out of the car. Silky tosses the taxi driver a wad of cash, tells him to keep the change. As he drives off, the girls ask what it is.

“I’m writing a story, somethin’ interesting for a change.” The girls walk towards the end of the line. Vanessa rustles through her purse, pulls out her ID from her wallet. Patiently, A’keria and Silky wait for details.

“It’s about Brooke Lynn.”

Silky and A’keria burst into laughter. The line inches closer towards the door, but they haven’t yet realised. Vanessa raises her eyebrow in confusion.

“Told ya so,” Silky howls, “Knew you were keeping something from us, bitch.”

“Can’t stay away from those bad girls, huh?” A’keria smirks.

A bouncer checks their identification, lazily flipping the card over. He points for them to go past, Vanessa last in formation. A’keria’s on the lookout for her friends as they enter the crowd. Hoards of dancing girls surround them, unknowingly sloshing vodka sodas on the floor with each movement. Gesturing forward, A’keria pushes ahead. Strobe lights pulsate from the ceiling. Their group collides with the other. Vanessa recognises a few of the women. Nina. Honey. Brooke.

Even in the erratic lighting of the club, Vanessa could tell the blonde was staring right at her. Their eyes meet, gaze lingering as Nina tries to introduce them over the blaring music. Brooke pulls away first, coyly smiling. A layer of sweat coats Vanessa’s palms. This was the last thing she was expecting tonight.

[hxh-secretsanta-2017]

yo this is for @sanktpetyrthethird who asked for drug dealer au killugon

honestly thank you cause?? this is not at all a story i would have ever brainstormed let alone written if not for that prompt and ive fallen in love with it and it really really improved my writing workflow to. yknow. plot instead of writing <3000 word fluff pieces (raincheck for acts 2 and 3 my dude. this. kinda got away from me)

(also i started following u cause of this and ur sweetheart!! i was really happy to be writing this for such a cool and awesome person)

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!! :D

also thank you to @driftingglass for beta reading a whack of this and helping me to realize i had to cut some prose described by a friend as “violet”

Prologue.

Golden eyes. An earnest smile. Freckles that mark a childhood spent in sunlight.

Killua shakes out his hands, hoping to flick away heart fluttering memories and dread that sinks through his gut like ink in water.

“I need you tomorrow,” says Illumi. His hands drag across the spines of the books, fingers knobby and nails sharp. He eyes the titles with the same vacant, disinterested scowl he has for everything.

Iron supports hold aloft the domed glass ceiling and cast sweeping shadows like eagle’s wings. Fading dusk sky snatches away scarce warmth from the city below.

Killua shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of one of the few couches clustered by the unlit fireplace. He walks past the table stacked high with stolen documents awaiting review by himself, his parents, or senior staff.

As Illumi browses through the children’s books—Killua suppresses a disgusted sneer—he slides a brass ladder along the wall of the circular library. Its wobbly wheels scream in the otherwise silent air. He swallows hard and hopes that he hasn’t awoken Kikyo.

Body sluggish and aching for sleep, he climbs up and finds what he’s looking for by the marks he left in the dust a few days prior. It’s an old farmer’s almanac with folklore stories scattered throughout, factual and fantastical in equal measure.

Killua hops to the floor and runs his thumb along the scarlet cover.

It’s an illustration of a humanoid goat standing over a river of blood. Her apron flies in a vicious wind, and the scissors she holds over her head are open around a crescent moon. She stares straight out at the viewer, defiant and oozing with fury.

Killua passes the book to Illumi and Illumi looks up at him, unblinking. For a moment, Killua thinks he’s going to make him pick out something else, but then he adds it to the small stack balanced in the crook of his elbow.

Illumi fades towards one of the arched entrances, which gapes wide like a jaw.

Killua bites his lip.

“Can I give them to her?”

Illumi pauses, a hand gracefully posed on the archway. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Was there any trouble tonight?”

“Will I see you again?”

Killua can hardly keep himself standing. He rubs the side of his temple with the heel of his palm, before forcing himself to open his eyes as wide as he can manage.

“I’m fine.”

Illumi tut-tuts, sickeningly similar to their mother. “Oh Kil, you must be falling ill. Go rest. I don’t want to lose my best spotter.”

Killua is going to vomit.

He hisses in a breath to argue, but something about the way Illumi raises an eyebrow stops him. For a moment he’s pulled into his brother’s dense orbit. A cold sweat runs down his neck.

Killua’s legs itch, screaming both to run and freeze like ice.

Illumi breaks the stare, and Killua gasps, his breathing heavy.

“Goodnight, Kil,” he says, before vanishing with steps so smooth he may as well have been a ghost.

Killua raises a hand to the base of his neck and rubs his skin in a fruitless attempt to self-soothe.

Illumi is far from good company, but he leaves a vacuum in his wake.

Killua does not enjoy solitude. Loneliness, he has learned to live with; solitude, he abhors.

The library is gray and old. It’s a room that hasn’t seen proper use in years, a forgotten corner of the Zoldyck estate with mildew air that itches Killua’s nose and tastes like dust on his tongue. The books are no more than lifeless stacks of paper, ripped apart from the one who loved—loves—them most. The reading chair in the corner, undisturbed even by the housekeepers, calls out for company.

“Will I see you again?”

Killua grabs the hair at his temples and tries not to scream. For a moment, grief compresses him so hard he’s knocked to his knees.

There are translucent hands wrapped around his arms, grabbing at his neck, twisting the flesh of his thighs. His chest bubbles with panic that wants to spill over into sobs. A reckless desire he’s kept in check for years torrents through his heart, and he wants nothing more than to give in and let it ruin him.

Killua has survived through routine and a lace veil of iron between himself and the world beyond his fingertips, but now the walls are crashing down around him.

A thousand deaths on his hands, and he is going to crack for just one person.

There’s a chance, a risk, so stupidly foolish he hates himself for even considering the possibility.

Killua is a professional murderer. He has the heart of a killer, and the drying blood under his fingertips to prove it. He has never shown mercy, and tonight has yet to become an exception. His record is flawless, and his legacy, should he choose to embrace it, will be unparalleled.

Life stretches out before him, every cranny of it predetermined, and he has learned to accept that, to swallow it, for the sake of his sister.

It’s been months since he was allowed to see her, to rest her head in his lap and answer her questions about the outside. Even the polish on his toes has chipped away.

What do they have left to lose? Pain does not scare him, and they dare not touch her.

***

There are pinup posters on the walls of Milluki’s room, and a strip of lights wrapped around the ceiling that flash green and purple. Monitors are mounted to the walls, and boxes of cables in tangled knots are stored under the desk.

Milluki doesn’t even look up when Killua closes the door.

“What do you want?” he asks, tapping his finger on the mouse. A loading bar ticks slowly on one screen, and a jumble of code Killua has never cared to understand lights up another. Milluki continues working, used to more hysterical interrupters than Killua.

What does he want? Killua pauses for a moment, and then he almost laughs, because any answer even close to honest is surreal.

“Can you do me a favour?”

Milluki chokes at that, before spinning his chair around. There’s a glowing smile on his face, though he’s trying to hide it and failing poorly. A flash of irritation burns on Killua’s cheeks.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Killua grinds his teeth and swallows his pride. “I need a favour.”

Milluki claps his hands together and rocks back in his chair. His eyes sparkle with delight. “Anything for my most darling little brother.”

“Shut up,” says Killua, his nose wrinkling.

Milluki’s enthusiasm is undeterred. “What do you need?”

Killua plunges over the point of no return before he can convince himself of reason. Hesitation, his grandfather always said, is the antidote to good fortune. “I need you to leak the outgoing messages from Zenji’s phone over the past two weeks. It can’t be tied back to us, and no one can find out about it.”

Milluki nods happily, and he’s already closed out one screen for another when he stills. “Wait—does anyone know about this?”

Killua shakes his head, frustrated and impatient. Kikyo could wake at any moment, Silva should be home soon, and Illumi has a knack for appearing when he is least wanted. Which is always.

Milluki sobers and worries his lip with his teeth. “I mean, yeah, I can do it, but…” His eyes slide up to the monitors and then down to Killua’s feet. “It isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll owe you. Seriously.” Killua watches the door, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry.

Milluki sneers at that. “Obviously, idiot. But if they find out—”

“They won’t. You’re good at what you do.”

Milluki rubs the back of his neck, unconvinced. Killua can’t blame him, but he needs Milluki to help him.

Anxiety rises in his chest and he has to slide his hands into his pockets to keep from running them through his hair.

“Milluki, please.”

Milluki’s eyes shoot up to his. Killua doesn’t know what does it, but something about his voice, or maybe his expression, makes Milluki bite his cheek and shake his head.

He licks his lips, and then huffs a laugh. “Tell you what, Kil,” he says, turning back to his keyboard. “It’ll be one hell of a favour.”

Chapter 1.

Meteor City is a jagged mountain of metal and glass. It imposes over the landscape, cast in silhouette by the setting sun. A hazy cloud of pollution hangs over it like flies on an open wound.

Gon walks towards it along the edge of a dusty road, alone among a thousand others making the journey. Trucks pass by, forming an unbroken caravan from the blurry tree line behind him to a field of canvas tents and sheet metal buildings. People hang from the sides and produce jostles under tarps. A great big billowing cloud of dust forces Gon to wrap his bandana around his mouth and nose.

He stops when he reaches the edge of the shadow cast over the desert scrub. A woman with a weathered face and bandaged hands slows beside him, and the two of them look up, silently.

Somewhere in the staggeringly enormous mass, he’s going to find Ging.

The woman moves on first. It takes Gon a few more minutes, and by the time he starts on again, the shadow had crept to his shins.

The eastern market is the major entry point for the city, but Gon isn’t interested in squeezing his way through the crowd. He cuts off onto a thin path, with dry grass growing high down the center.

The buildings, jutting like crowded teeth, are packed together so tightly that not even a starving alley cat could squeeze its way through. More are under construction. Workers buzz about the scaffolding, and huge machines Gon has only ever seen in an encyclopedia gifted by Abe dig up the ground.

There are open balconies on every story. People lounge in them, wearing fancy clothes and airs.

“Welcome home, sunshine!” shouts a woman, hanging off the arm of a clearly intoxicated man with a hideous mustache.

Gon waves. “I’m just passing through.”

She snorts, covering her mouth with a ring-bejeweled hand. “Sure, of course. Just passing through.”

Gon’s breath hitches and he wants to ask what she means by that, but the two of them giggle off into the room beyond.

He waits to see if they’ll return, and when they don’t, he draws closer.

Gon approaches the building like it’s a frightening animal tensing to bolt.

He reaches out and touches the wall. The cold concrete is unyielding against the warmth of his palm.

Gon walks along the edge of the city as dusk falls around him.

The workers continue clanging, sparks bright and flying in the fading light. Gon is careful not to step underneath the swaying cranes, or cut across through dug out pits.

Eventually, he finds a door propped open with a rock. Workers stroll in and out, chatting to each other in a language Gon doesn’t understand. None of them pay him any mind as he slips inside.

The air is rot and neglect and grease. He slams a hand over his mouth and doubles over in the hallway, gagging. His eyes water, and his lungs burn as he forces himself to breathe.

A man walking out snickers down at him, and Gon’s nose wrinkles. He straightens himself intentionally, pulling the bandana back up over his nose.

Gon swipes a tear out of his eyes. The corridor stretches on, long and punctuated with bursts of light where caged fluorescents flicker. All he can see between the pockets is darkness shifting like falling sand.

A fly buzzes in the nearest light, banging itself against the walls of its confinement.

Gon swallows hard.

Just passing through.

***

Gon sits on scaffolding made of plywood and cheap metal, his feet dangling over oblivion. The bridge connects two different buildings. The bustling neon party scene on one side fades into the almost idyllic business row on the other, where plants hang on the walls and shoes squeak across vinyl flooring.

Gon takes another bite of his sandwich and clicks his heels together, watching people stream across the dizzying sprawl of other connectors below.

When he was young, Mito got him an ant farm. Sometimes it spilled sand all over his windowsill, but he still loved it. Gon could watch the workers dig for hours. The city is the same; something about it is mesmerizing.

He’s been meandering for a day and a half. Whale Island, for all its beauty, was plagued by familiarity. Gon grew up around the same four hundred faces and a bitterly frigid line to his exploration quite literally in the sand. Meteor City is incomparably dense with wonders.

He found a shop that sold glass butterfly charms in every colour of the rainbow and watched the artist make one.

It dangles around his neck, now. A luxury he can’t afford, but one he couldn’t say no to, either.

He passed by a funeral procession marching slowly through the street, percussion instruments made of wood and beads clacking. The woman leading them wore a bone white tunic and red shoes.

He looked at park from an observation window, unable to afford the fee to enter. It had a high ceiling and ivy climbing the walls. Gigantic lights fed the lawn, and a handful of couples were clustered on benches under carefully pruned apple trees.

Gon finishes his lunch and shrugs on his backpack, careful not to let it fall.

The next market he passes through has a ceiling painted to look like a midday sky. Dragons swirl through thick cumulus clouds and swoop down the walls. The stalls are open and cascade throughout the entire floor. Support columns are painted green and plastered with posters. Most of them are written in a language he doesn’t recognize.

He skirts around an open vat of oil, manned by an old woman with bags under her eyes and whiskers at the corners of her mouth. She dips meat down in strips, and they sizzle on the surface. A mother with a toddler in tow buys a bag, and pays by tapping the back of her phone to a metal plate drilled into the table.

Gon is pushed onwards by the swelling crowd.

The Hunter Association, when he finally finds it, is marked by the logo on a handleless door.

Gon hops onto the bridge to it. Both above and below, he can only spot three other entrances to the building.

A voice crackles from a speaker.

“Name?”

Gon tugs the collar of his shirt. “Gon. Kite sent me. He said to tell you ‘strawberry blackwater’ and to apologize for using an old pass code.”

“I can’t let you in with an old pass code.”

“He said I should mention I’m Ging’s son.”

There’s a long silence.

The speaker crackles, and Gon can make out indistinct words spoken too far away to be picked up clearly.

“Fine.”

The door slides open with a chime.

There’s no one on the other side. Gon pokes down the hallway, expecting to be interrupted once again by whoever was watching the door, but he’s only met by dead air.

All the hallways are painted the same grating shade of gray, and every door he tries to open is locked and beeps at him angrily. He’s steered like cattle through the building by short stairwells and dead ends until he stumbles upon a lobby.

The room is large, white, and brightly lit. There are a few people talking in clusters of two or three. Gon doesn’t recognize any of them. None of them smile when they look his way.

He fists the hem of his sleeves, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and his knuckles. There isn’t a line at the front desk.

“I’m looking for Ging Freecss.”

The woman behind the high counter snorts. “I’m sorry,” she deadpans, flipping the page of her magazine.

Gon pouts. “I want to see him. Do you know where he is?”

“Does anyone?”

Gon hums, considering the question. “He probably does.”

A ghost of a smile graces her face. She looks up and gives a snide scowl. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Gon isn’t sure what to say, so he says nothing. She goes back to reading, though he can tell by the way her eyes aren’t moving that she’s watching him peripherally. Gon bites his lip and glances over his shoulder.

Apparently accepting that he isn’t going to leave, she sighs and drops the magazine down. This time, her smile is tight and annoyed. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Ging.”

***

There was a long retired sailor on Whale Island, so old that even Abe could only shrug when asked his name. He lived alone in the hills, where yellow wildflowers spilled across the forest floor like honey, and came into town when he needed to replace a failing tool or stock up on food. He had eyebrows like scraggly wire and shuffled, though he didn’t use a cane.

One lazy summer afternoon, gnats buzzing in the air, Gon stumbled upon him plucking weeds in his back garden. Compelled by nothing but curiosity, Gon pushed up his sleeves and helped. They spent a few hours in silent companionship, and at the end of it Gon was invited into the well-maintained kitchen to share a blackberry pie. Gon breathed on a spoon and managed to stick it to his cheek; the old sailor guffawed, his nose wrinkled.

A couple of years after that, Gon found his body in the woods.

At first, it looked as though he was sleeping against one of the apple trees, but the smell, the flies, and the stillness of his chest told Gon otherwise.

Bisky reminds Gon of him.

It’s her eyes that do it; soulful and heavy, despite a body that doesn’t look a day over sixteen. Even slouched, with elbows on her knees, her presence fills the air.

The lounge is chaotic. Flashing lights cut through smoke. Music blasts, and partygoers holler. Gon slips through the crowd, offering muttered apologies as he squeezes between dancers.

Wide support columns curate his view. They cut up the lounge like a warren, giving him only snippets of her form as he makes his way over. Gon ducks under an arch and jogs down the half-flight of stairs.

He slides into the seat across from her. She jolts from whatever she was thinking about.

“Bisky?”

“Gon?”

For a moment, they float in their own bubble, separate from the rest of the world.

She leans towards him, eyes wide.

They’re interrupted by a young man tripping on his own shoes. He catches himself on Gon’s shoulder and nearly tumbles into his lap. Gon helps him back to his feet, insisting that it’s not a bother as the man blushes fiercely. He scampers off.

The conflicted swirl in Bisky’s expression is gone when he sits back down.

“You’re so much like him,” she says.

Gon’s chest swells with shy pride.

***

His throat is warm and fuzzy, and his senses are enjoyably dulled. His inhibition, thin at the best of times, has been shredded like wet paper.

Bisky is either a fantastic influence or a terrible one.

She hollers and Gon grunts, his elbow straining, sweat burning down his forehead. The woman across from him narrows her eyes and pushes harder against his palm. Gon’s muscles are clenched so tightly he can hardly breathe.

The back of his hand slams into the table. There’s a roar, and people in the crowd push him by his shoulders as he catches his breath. The woman offers him a handshake and a roguish smile as a conciliatory participation prize.

“My turn, my turn,” insists Bisky, sliding into the seat after him.

The woman, graying at her temples, quirks her lips into a smirk. She stands to whispers something in Bisky’s ear, and Bisky laughs.

Gon is knocked back by the swell of the excited onlookers; he lets himself drift, and while he doesn’t see it, he sure as hell hears it when Bisky pulls off a victory.

They sit beside each other on a quiet step. Bisky scribbles out something on the back of a napkin and shoves it into his hand.

“He’s a lightweight too,” she says.

Gon groans. “‘M fine,” he lies.

Bisky can’t hide the chuckle that bounces her shoulders. “Of course you are.” She claps her hands together. “Right. Let’s go get you settled, young man.”

The true face of the headquarters is nothing like the monotony from earlier.

Every hallway is decorated in a different style. One is lined from floor to ceiling with wooden masks, whose eyes seem to follow them. Another is snow white, with the silhouettes of deer somehow moving across the wall.

Bisky has to drag him along by the wrist; Gon keeps wandering off to gander.

Her apartment is luxurious. The ceilings are high, and from them hang ornate chandeliers. The carpet is thick between his toes, and the paint on the walls looks new. He can only stay for the night, she says, because she’s leaving in the morning and the place will be turned over to someone else.

Gon curls up on the couch and she brings him a glass of water, a pillow, and a fond ruffle of his hair.

The night wasn’t what he was hoping for. He’s disappointed he didn’t get to meet Ging, even if he had a fun time. All Bisky knows is that he’s off on some special assignment and planning to come back soon. It’s enough for Gon, though.

He’s waited his whole life. He can wait a little longer.

Chapter 2.

Gon stops outside the restaurant and triple checks the napkin. He’s supposed to meet with the friend of a friend of a friend.

Bisky’s words swam over his pounding head during breakfast. He isn’t sure whether he’s meeting with a thirty-something martial arts instructor or a guy his age with a buzz cut. Either way, he isn’t looking forward to it.

The other key detail that he missed was what job he was applying for, exactly.

He pokes his head inside. The restaurant is empty; not one of the three round chairs has a guest, and there’s no one behind the counter.

The walls are yellow stucco and the splashboard behind the workspace is functional black diamond plate. There’s a chandelier with tacky plastic jewels that reflect spots of light onto the walls and ceiling. The melamine tables are worn and chipped, and the chairs have awkwardly low backs.

It is, Gon thinks, the least welcoming restaurant he has ever had the misfortune of visiting.

There’s a bang in the back room and Gon jumps. The door swings open. A man with a willowy build and unruly blonde hair stalks up to the counter, tying his striped apron behind his back.

“Can I help you,” he sighs venomously, as though he would rather swallow spiders than even consider doing so.

“Bisky sent me,” says Gon.

The man’s nose wrinkles with disgust and he rolls his eyes. “Great.”

Gon rubs his hand along the back of his head and passes over her note. The man holds the napkin out at arms length before pulling glasses from his pocket. He mouths the words as he reads them, and Gon taps his fingers on the empty glass display case as he waits for him to finish.

“Bisky didn’t tell me what KP stood for but—”

“Kurapika. Me. My name.”

“Oh.”

Kurapika sets the paper down and pulls his glasses back like a headband. His hair is tucked, revealing dazzling ruby red earrings.

“Who are you.”

“Gon Freecss. I came here looking for my dad, but—”

“Gon, I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that I do not care. What do you know about running?”

“Um, I’m fast, I think? I’ve never really raced anyone though, so—”

“Okay.” Kurapika chuckles a little, his eyes sliding closed and his smile genuine for the first time. Gon squirms, certain that he’s stepped over one of those invisible lines that everyone else can see. “Go tell Bisky not to waste my time.”

Gon’s heart plummets. “I’m a fast learner.”

Kurapika stares at him unflinchingly.

“Also Bisky just left this morning, so I can’t do that.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence. Kurapika stares through him, his eyes glassy and his mouth pressed flat, before untying his apron and hanging it up on a hook beside the fridge.

“You’re from outside the city.”

Gon tilts his head, wondering how Kurapika could tell.

“You’re never going to know it as well as someone who’s grown up here.”

“I’m good at—”

Kurapika holds up a finger, turning on his heels. His smile curls sharper. Kurapika shapes his words carefully, like Gon is a rabbit he’s leading into a snare. “How long did it take you to get to the Hunter’s Association headquarters?”

Gon winces. “A couple days.”

Kurapika holds out his relaxed hands, palms flat. “That’s only a seventeen minute trip from here if you know the way, Gon.”

Gon gasps. The pieces click into place, and he relishes in the rush of having figured out the test.

“No it isn’t.”

Kurapika bites his tongue. “Yes, it is.”

“It only took me twelve.”

Kurapika freezes. His eyes open wide, but he recovers quickly into a slightly less confident scowl. “You said it took you days, Gon.”

Gon nods avidly. “Yeah, the first time. Then when I came back it was only twenty minutes because I knew to use the tunnels way below everything. And then I was bored because the restaurant was closed for the night, so I went back and forth a few times.”

“And you shaved it down to twelve minutes?”

Gon beams. “Yup! It only really works one way, though. There’s this place where the boards are really close between the buildings and you can hop down and it saves you from having to do”—Gon demonstrates with his hands—“the hook thing.”

“Show me.”

***

Kurapika stands with him on the top board and shakes his head slowly. Gon can’t wipe the smile off his face. He points at the grated metal, only seven feet below.

“It’s—”

“Twelve minutes. It’s actually twelve minutes.” Kurapika licks his lips and puts his hands on his hips. He stares at the path below like he doesn’t believe it.

Maybe it wasn’t a test. Either way, Gon’s pretty sure he passed.

With practiced grace, Kurapika holds out a hand. Gon shakes it firmly. Kurapika’s teeth grind and he pulls away, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

Gon rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels. “I said I was a fast learner, didn’t I?”

“You did, you did, you absolutely did,” says Kurapika, his voice dazed. “I take it back. No guarantees, but I can try to find you something.”

Gon hollers at the victory. Someone far above shouts down at him to be quiet. Gon apologizes.

“So what now?” he asks.

For the first time, Kurapika’s smile is softened by fondness. “Try to learn the area around the restaurant as best you can. Do you have a phone?”

Gon passes it over and Kurapika presses a few buttons before tapping their backs together.

“I’ll call when I know one way or another.” He stills and rubs his thumb over his lips. “Do you have a place to stay?”

***

“It’s temporary.”

Gon leans against the wall and bites his lip. It’s the first true residential area he’s visited. Kurapika had to tap his phone on a screen to slide open the front gate.

The hallway has tiled vinyl flooring, and the mounted lights are soft. The main corridor branches off like a fractal, what must have once been a wide open space subdivided into a maze of small apartments. It’s nicer than most of the places Gon has been so far, which is to say that there are no suspiciously dark stains on bare concrete.

Across the narrow hallway the door to apartment forty-five opens. A boy with short black hair, not much younger than Gon himself, steps out, carrying a handful of empty bags.

“Like hell it’ll be temporary, Kurapika.”

The boy’s eyes widen and Gon mirrors the look.

“Just a few days. He doesn’t have anywhere—”

“Why can’t you take him in?”

With a polite wave the boy runs off down the hallway, favoring his right leg.

“Because my place is—”

There’s a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Fine.”

Kurapika leans out, a smug smile lighting up his face. “Come on in.”

The apartment is a long, narrow room. There’s a kitchen at the very back with mismatched stools. Closer, the walls are lined with cubbies full of plastic totes. There’s a low circular table between them, and one of the boxes is open on the ground beside it, folders spread out chaotically.

Next there’s an unmade bed that juts out from the wall, right beside the door to what Gon presumes is the washroom. Across from the bed is a couch, sandwiched on either side by a bookshelf and a dresser.

The man beside Kurapika is, somehow, exactly what Gon would have expected if he had only seen the room.

He’s tall but slouches, his glasses seem comically useless, and the twist of his lips is crass. His hair is dented on the side from bed head, and his button-up shirt is half untucked.

“I’m Gon, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand with a beaming smile.

The man looks up at the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience before accepting the handshake. “Leorio.”

Gon sets his backpack down and clasps his hands behind his back. Kurapika wrings his wrists. Leorio rubs his eyes. The silence is awkward, and Gon jumps to break it.

“What are those papers?” he asks.

Leorio glances over at the table. “Records.”

“Oh. For what?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Why?”

Leorio inhales through his nose then exhales through his mouth. His stare turns to Kurapika, who has conveniently fled to the kitchen.

Dinner is made in near silence. Gon chops the vegetables put in front of him while Kurapika and Leorio bicker in low tones over the pot on the stove. He wonders why they’re friends if they spend so much time arguing, but maybe that’s what friends are supposed to be like. Gon isn’t exactly an expert; there was only one other kid on Whale Island, and she moved away years ago for high school.

They’re eating soup, lined up on the counter stools, when Gon tries again.

“So why did you want to be a doctor?”

Leorio drops his spoon and scowls at Kurapika. “Was he being an ass earlier, or…?”

“I don’t know,” says Kurapika, covering his full mouth with a hand.

“What are you talking about?” asks Gon.

The two of them look up at him, and then to each other. Kurapika shrugs. Leorio sighs, and rubs a fleck of broth off his cheek.

“A long time ago a friend of mine got sick, but healthcare in Meteor City is expensive and shoddy, so, y’know.” Leorio twirls his hand, watch clinking. “I wanted to help.”

“Did he die?” asks Gon.

Kurapika sucks in a breath. “G—”

“Yeah,” says Leorio.

Gon bites his cheek.

He swirls his spoon in his soup, and a carrot bubbles up from the bottom. He tries to imagine what that would feel like—losing Abe was hard enough, and he’d been able to find comfort in her long life well lived. Gon’s chest unravels at the thought of losing a friend.

“I’m sorry.”

Leorio looks down. Kurapika rests a hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Gon,” says Kurapika. “Now finish your soup.”

Gon cleans the plates while Leorio digs out extra bedding from the dresser. Kurapika has left, something about needing to sleep before his next shift started.

“You’re getting the couch ‘cause I’m too tall for it,” says Leorio, trying in vain to get fitted sheets to work on couch cushions.

“Okay.”

Gon lies with his back to the room. Leorio snores, like Mito does.

Gon sleeps easy.

***

Gon flips over the work phone. It’s sturdier than his own, and designed to snap closed. He clicks it open and shut as Kurapika explains the process to him.

Again.

“Deliver the package, tap the back of your phone to theirs, if they’re the right person it’ll tell you, and if they aren’t, I’ll get an alert. Do you have any questions?”

“Nope.” Gon reaches for the cardboard box, not much larger than a slice of bread, and Kurapika slides it down the counter, out of his reach.

“I can be there in five, six if you need me armed.”

“It’ll be fine,” says Gon, stretching on his tiptoes to grab the package. He flies out before Kurapika can launch into another lecture. Lectures, Gon has discovered in the two weeks since meeting him, are something Kurapika is fond of.

He weaves through the buildings, secure in his bearings, slowly ascending staircase by staircase. Waiting for Dalzollene’s approval was boring, but it did give him time to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

The meeting itself is mundane. There’s a woman waiting right where expected, and when they click their phones together, they both receive a cheery green check mark.

He passes the box, she slips off into the crowd, and he returns back to Kurapika, where the next delivery is waiting.

Running, Gon discovers, is something he enjoys a lot.

It takes him a few days to conclude what, exactly, he’s carrying, but once he does it hardly bothers him. Who cares what other people want to do if it means Gon is getting paid to fly through the city?

There are three of them working out of the restaurant. He’s a runner, as is Zushi, a barrel-chested boy with stony expressions but a kind heart. Kurapika is their manager, and he reports to “the brass”, as Leorio calls them. Gon isn’t sure what “the brass” has to do with him, so he keeps to running.

There are a few regulars. The woman he met his first trip was one, as are twin boys down in the factories with equally devious grins and clothes that seem intentionally picked to set them apart. There’s a gangly teenager who always meets him behind a heart-pounding night club, and a woman who insists on double checking their tap every time.

Gon hears a new language every day, sees a new pastry behind shop windows. He meets people he never could have imagined, and every night his dreams are fed by pushed horizons. It’s like he’s twelve again; his heart soars with anticipation of adventures to come.

***

“Whale Island?”

Gon nods, slurping from his bowl of noodles. The woman across from him with a sleeve of tattoos and an impractically big septum piercing smiles warmly. She leans back in her creaky chair.

“I passed through there a summer, way back when.”

Gon bites back a pang of homesickness. “Yeah?”

She clasps her hands behind her head and smiles. “Just for a night. Beautiful place. Miss the sky.”

Gon does, too. He’ll return someday, though.

He calls Mito in the evening, and they talk for hours.

The mail system is unreliable, Kurapika says, but Gon still sends her the glass butterfly. It made him happy. He hopes it makes her happy, too.

***

Leorio, despite his big talk, lets Gon stay.

After a few months, Gon is grunting along with him and Kurapika as they maneuver a second bed into the apartment. There’s barely room to squeeze it in against the wall, and only about a foot is left between it and Leorio’s, but it’ll do.

***

When Gon runs into trouble, he’s unprepared. He breathes through his mouth and grips the edge of the cushioned table as Leorio’s fingers brush over his nose. He swallows blood, and the slick, thick feeling of it travelling down his throat almost makes him gag. Leorio sets it, and Gon can’t help but cry out. Kurapika winces, hovering over Leorio’s shoulder.

“What happened?” he asks, eyes stormy.

“I got into a fight,” says Gon. Leorio’s mouth quivers as he fights back a snicker.

Kurapika sighs and rubs his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “Yes, but what happened.”

Gon shrugs. “I was just walking.”

Call it a fight is honestly an overstatement; more accurately, Gon got his lights punched out and woke up with his face against the ground.

Kurapika insists he learn to defend himself, after that.

***

Firearms are rare in the city. The Ten Dons ban them outside of their own use; with the thin walls and shabby floors, it’s too dangerous to risk lackadaisical use, so confrontations come down to martial ability.

Gon coughs and lets his head loll back onto the springy wooden floor. His instructor—an old student of Bisky’s—pads closer.

“You’re completely uncoordinated,” says Wing.

“I’ve never done this before,” says Gon, rolling onto his hands and knees before bouncing to his feet.

“That much I could tell.”

Gon sputters a laugh and rubs the back of his head. Wing crosses his arms.

His teacher is coiled muscle, veiled by unassuming, baggy clothes. The studio is an extension of himself, with its wonky fans and chipped mirrors. Overhead, the neighbors shout each other down.

Gon takes a deep breath, wincing when his ribs ache, and resets into the stance Wing showed him. They move slowly; Wing explains every step as he’s doing it, and Gon occasionally interrupts to ask for clarification.

Two hours pass in the blink of an eye.

Gon ties his laces as Wing talks him through the studio’s schedule.

He learns, slowly, about the people he’s working for. Some of it is from Kurapika, but Kurapika is stingy, dispensing information in palatable drips. Most of it, he gathers from the people he meets.

The Nostrades are just one of the many families tied to Ritz Clan, which is just one of ten clans that operate quasi-governments throughout the city. They control a pocket on the border of the Ritz’s territory, and are infamous for the daughter’s hobby of collecting human body parts. A grim fascination, Gon thinks.

They are also, he learns, infuriatingly difficult to get the drop on. They smell weakness like bloodhounds, and many suspect Light Nostrade is trying to worm his way into the Ritz’s inner circle. How, exactly, no one can tell him. Smoke chokes out the sun, but no one can find the fire.

When Gon isn’t working, he’s exploring.

He charts his way through the ground level, where he finds the crematoriums, water treatment plants, and livestock pens. It’s dingy. The walls are caked in grime, and he finds more than a handful of bodies rotting in the stagnant water between the buildings. But it does provide the most direct routes he can find. Usually, it isn’t worth it to climb down and back up the stairs, but he notes the potential.

It’s normal for him, now, to go weeks without seeing the sun. His eyes burn when he does climb up to the roofs. He can’t tell if it’s because of the light or the pollution. Probably both.

His martial ability improves through hours of practice with Wing and hours more alone with Zushi. Zushi is an enthusiastic teacher, thrilled whenever Gon asks him to stay a little longer.

Sometimes his lessons are less like lessons, though, and more like excuses to show how good he is at trapping Gon in a headlock.

Kurapika begins splitting the risky jobs between them more evenly. Gon learns how to slide unnoticed through crowds, treating the markets and echoing apartment complexes like the forest.

Bisky does not return. Ging does not return. Kite does not return.

Gon keeps waiting.

Baise, one of the Neon Nostrade’s bodyguards, takes two weeks off to visit family. Kurapika suggests Gon fill in, and in a burst of generous optimism, Dalzollene lets him.

Standing outside a locked door for hours or shuffling awkwardly through crowds isn’t as much fun as running. It’s exhausting to have to assume the worst of everyone. Neon likes him, though, so Gon ends up spending more and more time in her entourage.

One afternoon, he has two hours to kill before the next run. He sits in the restaurant, flipping through a newspaper in a language he can’t read, frowning at the pictures. Zushi walks in and greets Kurapika formally. Kurapika grunts from his stool behind the counter, but his eyes stay glued to his phone.

“Hey, Gon.”

Zushi stands with his back straight and his mouth schooled into a professional scowl.

“Howdy,” says Gon, smiling up at him.

“Don’t even fucking start,” says Kurapika.

“Hello,” says Gon. He folds away the newspaper and drops it on the table. Zushi is robotic as he pulls out a chair and sits down.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out. With me.”

“Sure.” Gon reaches for his jacket. “Hey Kurapika, we’re—”

Zushi waves his hands in the air, cutting Gon off. “No, like, out.”

“Yeah,” says Gon. “Sure.”

“Like a date. Together.”

Gon brows pull together. “Was I supposed to say no?”

Kurapika blurts a laugh, which is quickly cut off by his hand slapping over his mouth. Gon fidgets with the hair at the base of his skull.

Zushi’s cheeks are bright red. The colour spills up his ears and over his forehead. “You like me?” asks Zushi, voice cracking.

Gon shrugs. “The point of a date is to find out, right?”

Zushi is a wreck as they make their way to the karaoke bar.

Gon tries to get him laughing, but it’s in vain.

Zushi is cute, Gon thinks. He’s fun, and Gon likes spending time with him. Gon isn’t sure if that’s a crush, though.

The karaoke bar is loud and bright and Gon hates it upon arrival, but Zushi is a balloon ready to burst at the next morsel of air, so Gon goes along with it. There are, unsurprisingly, no versions of the songs he knows in the Whale Island dialect. Gon flounders, trying to keep up with lyrics that are close but ever so slightly off.

When it’s Zushi’s turn, he stands with white knuckles around the microphone. The words start to scroll and his cheeks puff out. There’s a tremor to his bottom lip.

“Why don’t we leave,” says Gon.

Zushi breathes a sigh of relief and agrees eagerly.

They end up tucked in the back of a donut shop, sitting across from each other.

“Sorry, that was bad,” apologizes Zushi. Again.

“It’s fine,” says Gon, flashing a smile.

“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” says Zushi, his hands rubbing each other on the table.

Gon nods his earnest agreement. “I don’t think we’d make a good couple.”

Zushi’s face falls at the confirmation, and his gaze drifts over to the wall, plastered with amateur paintings on sale. Gon’s gut twists.

“But I like spending time with you. And someday, it’ll be really funny that we went on a terrible date.”

Zushi laughs nervously. “Really bad.”

Gon beams. “The worst.”

Zushi smiles shyly and takes a sip of his coffee. He taps his fingers on the sides of his mug for a moment, looking down at the floor. “It won’t be weird?”

Gon shakes his head. “Nope, promise. Here.”

He holds out a pinky and Zushi reluctantly takes it. Gon chants as Zushi watches him with befuddled interest.

“—sealed with a kiss!”

Zushi’s face turns beet red. “No thanks,” he says, voice tight.

Gon pushes their thumbs together. “Mwah.”

“Oh.”

Zushi sighs, his shoulders sinking down in relief. Gon can’t help but snicker. Zushi reaches over and slaps his arm.

A half-hour later Zushi has recovered to his regular self.

“So, how did you end up a runner?” asks Gon, stealing crumbs off his plate.

Zushi lifts a hand to swat him away, but Gon, ever a careful thief, escapes unscathed. Gon sticks out his tongue. Zushi gives him a stink eye before letting it go.

“I need a job while I’m training to take the Hunter exam,” he says, twisting his mug back and forth by its handle.

“Oh,” says Gon.

A plate crashes across the room. Gon springs to his feet. There’s a woman with her hands over her mouth and an embarrassed wobble in her voice as she bends down to pick up the pieces. The boy behind the counter tugs her back up by her arm, insisting she not worry about it. Reassured that no one is hurt, Gon leaves them be.

Zushi shuffles in his chair as Gon sits back down. “Your dad’s one, right? Don’t you wanna be too?”

Gon hums, a thumb on his lip. “Not really. I don’t think I have to be, so I don’t see the point of it.”

“You don’t see the point of it?”

“It’s a lot of work for perks I don’t care about.” The boozy lounge, free alcohol, and splendid apartment are not things he desires.

Zushi balks. “It’s not about the perks. It’s about being a protector of the city.”

Gon raises an eyebrow. His expression of disbelief morphs into a wince. “My dad is hardly a protector of the city.”

Zushi’s eye bulge wide. “Dude. Your dad is like, on some quest to find out what killed the last chairman. If that’s not protecting the city, I don’t know what is.”

Gon bobs his head back and forth. “Fixing the bridges? Upgrading the water mains?” He gestures vaguely towards Leorio’s practice, fourteen stories and three buildings away. “Making healthcare accessible?”

Zushi opens and closes his mouth like a fish, before snapping it shut and glowering down at his mug. His eyebrows are scrunched together like he’s trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

Gon shrugs a shoulder. “You don’t need to be a Hunter to do any of that.”

“Maybe,” says Zushi. “But I still wanna do it.” His mouth is set with determination.

Gon’s eye crinkle fondly. “For what it’s worth, if anyone should be a Hunter, it’s you.”

Zushi’s eyes flutter in shock. He sniffs and looks up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Gon.”

Chapter 3.

They issue him a firearm.

It’s coded to respond to his fingerprints and will only be activated when he’s on duty. Further precautions include a weekend of training at a facility on the other side of the city, jointly run and funded by the Ten Dons.

Gon enjoys the walk, and he enjoys the breaks from the classroom when he has nothing to do but wander around. Training is miserable, though. No one will crack a smile, and distrust leaves the air hot and sticky. By the time it’s over, he’s relieved to return home to Leorio’s cooking and loud complaining about work.

Kurapika tells him he suits it and the holster.

Gon’s face puckers at the compliment. He doesn’t like suiting something crafted to kill.

The gun has no functional affect on guard duty because nothing ever happens. Gon watches doors that stay closed and scouts streets free of danger.

In the copious, wretchedly still free time the job gives him, he begins to draw out a map of the city. He doesn’t need the guidebook, but maybe it can be a birthday present for Zushi.

At the very least, it makes his time feel less squandered.

***

Kurapika is late. Gon stands outside the locked up restaurant, rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels, humming a song Leorio’s been blasting for weeks.

Kurapika is never late.

It’s a guard night, so maybe he just forgot to meet with Gon before heading to the estate.

Gon texts, and then he calls. Nothing.

He bites his lip and scratches the back of his head. They’re going to be late at this rate.

Kurapika’s apartment is a shabby place. Gon’s shoes crunch on broken glass as he steps around buckets overflowing with water leaking from the ceiling. Kurapika can afford better, but says he doesn’t see what the point would be if he’s almost never there. (Most nights, he sleeps on the couch in Leorio’s apartment, anyway.)

Gon grabs the key tapped to the back of the mailbox and knocks as a formality before walking in. For a professional bodyguard, Kurapika is comically lax with his own security.

The room isn’t much more than a box. There’s a mattress on the floor, and a milk crate flipped over to support a microwave. Clothes, which theoretically belong in the shallow dresser, are scattered over the desk, chair, and bed.

Gon hears a scratchy moan in the bathroom.

Kurapika is doubled over the toilet. Sweat soaks through his white tank top, but he’s shivering. Hair is plastered to his forehead.

He looks up at Gon, his eyes dark and narrowed.

“Let me die,” he hisses as Gon hoists him up, slinging one of Kurapika’s arms over his shoulders. Kurapika leans heavily into Gon’s side, his free hand clasping at the fabric of Gon’s shirt.

“Leorio would cry,” says Gon, walking them towards the main room. “And he cries enough already.”

Kurapika fixes him with a sour pucker.

“Like when you sent the cat.”

Kurapika frowns and stumbles as Gon transfers him to the door frame to dig up a jacket.

“The cat picture?”

“Yeah.”

“It made him cry?”

Gon presses his lips flat.

Kurapika’s brows furrow, then his face falls into weary but fond amusement.

“I can see it.”

***

Leorio, freshly awoken from his night shift recovery, stares down a greasy Kurapika.

Kurapika pinches his lips tight, his hand still on the doorknob.

“Sit down,” Leorio sighs, grabbing Kurapika by the scruff of his tank top and pulling him back until his knees fold against Gon’s bed.

Gon drops their pill bottle haul from the bathroom cabinet beside him.

“I have to go now,” he says, shooting a worried look to Kurapika.

“Then go,” says Leorio. “I’ve got him.”

***

The Nostrade estate sits on top of the territory they control like skin on the surface of lukewarm soup. There are big glass ceilings over the ballrooms and jars of preserved body parts decorating alcoves.

Gon changes in the armory and barely swings into the front lobby before Neon and Eliza walk down the spiral staircase from the bedrooms.

“Where’s Kurapika?” asks Baise, her teeth gritted and her smile forced.

Gon twists his heel in the carpet. “Sick. We’ll be okay without him.”

Baise’s smile tightens and her eyes bulge. “You can’t make decisions like that on your own.”

“We’ll be fine,” says Gon.

Her glare is disgusted, but she drops the subject.

“Good evening,” says Gon, cheery, as Neon slides off her slippers, using Eliza’s offered arm for balance.

“Good evening Mr. Freecss,” she says, voice light and airy.

For all the time she spends out of the house, it’s rarely for her own pleasure. On nights when she’s alone, or alone as she can be, Neon is always bubbly.

They take an elevator to the theater.

It’s one of the services the Nostrade family operates. Not only do they control the drug market, but they monopolize most amenities, too, from water to light.

The elevators, old and prone to failure, are especially expensive.

Eliza and Neon chat in the balcony lobby, Baise and Gon close at their sides. There are two other high-ranking mafia members present, but Gon can’t name them or the older guards that circle them.

A young man Neon smiles brightly at is telling her disconnected facts about the theater’s architecture when Gon spots trouble.

Kurapika rubs his eyes as he makes his way over. Gon slips away to intercept him.

“What are you thinking?” he hisses, grabbing Kurapika by the elbow. Kurapika shrugs him off.

“I’m good to work. Leorio gave me medicine. I’m feeling better.”

Gon scowls his disapproval.

Kurapika’s nose is red and his eyes are puffy. His hair is damp, and Gon suspects he washed it in the sink.

“We can handle it without you.”

Kurapika doesn’t bother replying. He steps around Gon to catch up with the rest of the group.

Lights flash, and the shuffle for seats begins.

The theatre is paneled with dark wood, and the house lights are so dim that it takes minutes to adjust. There are private balconies, rows of seats, and a pit down the center of the room. The stage itself is shallow and cramped.

Beads, in long, dazzling strings, are hung along the spines of the faux dome. Every lighting effect and curtain lifts sends sparkling ripples out like waves.

Gon stands at the back of the balcony, beside the door, and Kurapika slumps beside him. From here the ballet is hidden by curtains red as dried blood, but Gon doesn’t care for it much anyway.

Eliza, Neon, and Baise sit in the front of two rows. Eliza and Neon chat idly, even as the music begins. Neon’s elaborate hairstyle bobs with every laugh. Baise taps her fingers on the armrest impatiently.

The audience settles. Before the performance, after it, and during intermission are the high risk times. Between those, it’s smooth sailing.

Gon zones out and watches the beads.

It’s twenty minutes into the performance when Neon abruptly stands, turns to face him directly, and says: “whatever you do, don’t touch your weapon.”

Gunfire.

Kurapika pushes off from the wall and nearly stumbles to the ground, but he manages to grab Eliza and yank her down as Baise does the same for Neon.

The music abruptly halts. There are screams, and the floor shakes as people run to get away.

Someone has to sweep the emergency route before they can move on. Usually, it would be Kurapika’s job.

“Wait with them,” says Gon, slipping out before he can be stopped.

Kurapika shouts, but his voice is cut off by the door closing. There’s a click as Baise locks it.

A curved hallway with creamy walls services all of the balcony seats. It’s an unbroken oval, with part of it used to access the catwalks over the stage. Gon jogs around it as it fills with a panicked crowd.

People shout and push past each other in a dash for the exits. A man stumbles to his knees, and Gon swerves to help him back to his feet.

Gon finds himself bumping into shoulders and getting in the way. It’s useless to try and fight the flow. He steps aside to the wall and lets people pass.

The shots came from inside the theatre, but Gon didn’t have a view of the seats. They could have been fired by a licensed guard, or someone might be running around with a cracked weapon. Neither possibility is good news.

He doesn’t know the target, and he doesn’t know if bystanders are injured.

Kurapika will have almost certainly reported the incident by now, so backup will be on its way. With so many unknown variables, staying put until then might be the smart decision—or, they might be in harm’s way.

Gon rubs his temples. There isn’t an obvious answer. Combined with Neon’s ominous warning—if anything working for the Nostrades has taught him, it’s to listen to her warnings—he doesn’t know what to do.

The crowd is thinning and being still increases his visibility, so Gon moves on. When he reaches the heavy curtain separating backstage from the audience, he draws it back without hesitation.

No one.

There are big stage lights, carts full of props, and painted set pieces.

Gon passes by the door out to the catwalks. A bucket of fake snow is tipped over beside it.

His phone rings. Kurapika. Gon snaps it closed.

On the other side of the next curtain, the hallway is empty. The silence is eerie, dropping over him like a shroud.

Gon has never seen it still like this before. The unfamiliarity, the warping of space he knows into something he does not, sets his teeth on edge.

Usually, he appreciates the gentle curve. In hand-to-hand combat, seeing your opponent when they’re still far away can minimize conflict. But once firearms are introduced, it just means that every step could be the one that put Gon in the line of a bullet.

His hands shake from the adrenaline pumping through his system, and he walks on the balls of his feet, as though he’s barefoot in the forest.

There’s a thump ahead.

A chill runs down Gon’s spine. His nostrils flare. He inches his hand closer to his lapel.

Someone is around the bend.

A man appears. He takes a step forward, graceful as a sylph, and not a sound is made when his foot falls. The tilt of his sharp shoulders is predatory, like a cat coiling to spring. Dangerous and…

Beautiful.

His eyes are sapphires, and the curve of his lips is soft. His suit is tailored perfectly to his form. The braid over his shoulder is white as crisp ocean foam.

Gon can hardly breathe.

“Who are you,” asks the man. He pops the knuckles of one hand with his thumb.

A fleck of blood drops.

Gon grinds his teeth together, mind racing.

“Are you choosing to get involved or not?” he asks, bored and impatient.

“Your buttons are done up wrong,” says Gon, pointing to the man’s jacket.

The man’s eyes widen in what is either shock or disbelief. And then he glances down.

Gon closes the distance with a leap and slams his knuckles into the man’s solar plexus.

His feet are swept out from under him and he’s slammed against the wall, toes dangling. The detached coldness in the man’s eyes is gone, replaced by hot fury.

“What the he—“

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

The intensity in the air evaporates away.

The man’s mouth is slack. His eyes narrow into a squint, searching Gon’s with naked bewilderment.

Gon holds his breath.

The man lowers him so that his toes can touch the ground.

“You could have,” says Gon.

“Because—you—who does that?”

Gon hums thoughtfully, and loses his fight against the smile trying to curl his lips.

“So you were curious, too.”

The man blinks, then closes his eyes and gives a long, shaky sigh. With a gentle shove, he lets go of Gon entirely and backs up, like an archer relaxing his bow string.

“Just tell me who you are,” says the man, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“Gon.”

The man stares at him with a mix of horror and confusion.

A moment of silence passes. Gon pats his hips, unsure of where to put his hands.

“Do you have a death wish, Gon?”

“That’s not fair.”

The man’s eyes flutter and he gasps a shocked laugh.

“What?”

“I told you my name, you tell me yours.”

The man purses his lips. He leans his head against the wall and looks up, as if the light moldings will give him answers.

For a few seconds, Gon doesn’t think he’s going to answer.

“Killua.”

Killua.

“Nice to meet you, Killua.”

Casually leaned back, he doesn’t seem nearly as dangerous. Still beautiful, though.

“You’re weird, you know that?” says Killua, his voice raspy.

“I’m not sure you’re one to talk.”

Killua sniffs a laugh. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

Gon laughs.

Killua’s eyes shoot wide as saucers.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head.

Gon shakes his head and waves his hands placatingly. “Nothing, just funny.”

Killua scowls. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” says Gon.

Killua raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”

There’s the click of a door opening further down the hallway. Gon’s head swivels.

Backup, probably. That, or a peeved Kurapika on his way to shout Gon down the second they’re out of Neon’s earshot.

Killua stands with his hand on the frame of an open door.

Gon stumbles back a step, taken aback by the dramatic movement.

For a moment their eyes meet, and something in the air shifts. It’s a comfort and a bone deep knowing so strong that Gon’s heart aches.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, hands floating uselessly.

Killua runs a hand through his hair. His eyebrows furrow, and he sucks in a breath as though to speak.

And then like a switch flicking, his eyes glaze over with the same detachment from earlier. “No, and it would be better if you forgot you ever did.”

And then he’s gone.

[dfroza]

learning to get along.

this is what we see Paul write of in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the ancient Letter of Romans:

[Cultivating Good Relationships]

Welcome with open arms fellow believers who don’t see things the way you do. And don’t jump all over them every time they do or say something you don’t agree with—even when it seems that they are strong on opinions but weak in the faith department. Remember, they have their own history to deal with. Treat them gently.

For instance, a person who has been around for a while might well be convinced that he can eat anything on the table, while another, with a different background, might assume he should only be a vegetarian and eat accordingly. But since both are guests at Christ’s table, wouldn’t it be terribly rude if they fell to criticizing what the other ate or didn’t eat? God, after all, invited them both to the table. Do you have any business crossing people off the guest list or interfering with God’s welcome? If there are corrections to be made or manners to be learned, God can handle that without your help.

Or, say, one person thinks that some days should be set aside as holy and another thinks that each day is pretty much like any other. There are good reasons either way. So, each person is free to follow the convictions of conscience.

What’s important in all this is that if you keep a holy day, keep it for God’s sake; if you eat meat, eat it to the glory of God and thank God for prime rib; if you’re a vegetarian, eat vegetables to the glory of God and thank God for broccoli. None of us are permitted to insist on our own way in these matters. It’s God we are answerable to—all the way from life to death and everything in between—not each other. That’s why Jesus lived and died and then lived again: so that he could be our Master across the entire range of life and death, and free us from the petty tyrannies of each other.

So where does that leave you when you criticize a brother? And where does that leave you when you condescend to a sister? I’d say it leaves you looking pretty silly—or worse. Eventually, we’re all going to end up kneeling side by side in the place of judgment, facing God. Your critical and condescending ways aren’t going to improve your position there one bit. Read it for yourself in Scripture:

“As I live and breathe,” God says,

“every knee will bow before me;

Every tongue will tell the honest truth

that I and only I am God.”

So tend to your knitting. You’ve got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.

Forget about deciding what’s right for each other. Here’s what you need to be concerned about: that you don’t get in the way of someone else, making life more difficult than it already is. I’m convinced—Jesus convinced me!—that everything as it is in itself is holy. We, of course, by the way we treat it or talk about it, can contaminate it.

If you confuse others by making a big issue over what they eat or don’t eat, you’re no longer a companion with them in love, are you? These, remember, are persons for whom Christ died. Would you risk sending them to hell over an item in their diet? Don’t you dare let a piece of God-blessed food become an occasion of soul-poisoning!

God’s kingdom isn’t a matter of what you put in your stomach, for goodness’ sake. It’s what God does with your life as he sets it right, puts it together, and completes it with joy. Your task is to single-mindedly serve Christ. Do that and you’ll kill two birds with one stone: pleasing the God above you and proving your worth to the people around you.

So let’s agree to use all our energy in getting along with each other. Help others with encouraging words; don’t drag them down by finding fault. You’re certainly not going to permit an argument over what is served or not served at supper to wreck God’s work among you, are you? I said it before and I’ll say it again: All food is good, but it can turn bad if you use it badly, if you use it to trip others up and send them sprawling. When you sit down to a meal, your primary concern should not be to feed your own face but to share the life of Jesus. So be sensitive and courteous to the others who are eating. Don’t eat or say or do things that might interfere with the free exchange of love.

Cultivate your own relationship with God, but don’t impose it on others. You’re fortunate if your behavior and your belief are coherent. But if you’re not sure, if you notice that you are acting in ways inconsistent with what you believe—some days trying to impose your opinions on others, other days just trying to please them—then you know that you’re out of line. If the way you live isn’t consistent with what you believe, then it’s wrong.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 14 (The Message)

A chapter paired with that of chapter 11 in the Book of Genesis that reveals the family Tree and the birth of Abram, who became known as Abraham:

At one time, the whole Earth spoke the same language. It so happened that as they moved out of the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled down.

They said to one another, “Come, let’s make bricks and fire them well.” They used brick for stone and tar for mortar.

Then they said, “Come, let’s build ourselves a city and a tower that reaches Heaven. Let’s make ourselves famous so we won’t be scattered here and there across the Earth.”

God came down to look over the city and the tower those people had built.

God took one look and said, “One people, one language; why, this is only a first step. No telling what they’ll come up with next—they’ll stop at nothing! Come, we’ll go down and garble their speech so they won’t understand each other.” Then God scattered them from there all over the world. And they had to quit building the city. That’s how it came to be called Babel, because there God turned their language into “babble.” From there God scattered them all over the world.

This is the story of Shem. When Shem was 100 years old, he had Arphaxad. It was two years after the flood. After he had Arphaxad, he lived 500 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Arphaxad was thirty-five years old, he had Shelah. After Arphaxad had Shelah, he lived 403 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Shelah was thirty years old, he had Eber. After Shelah had Eber, he lived 403 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Eber was thirty-four years old, he had Peleg. After Eber had Peleg, he lived 430 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Peleg was thirty years old, he had Reu. After he had Reu, he lived 209 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Reu was thirty-two years old, he had Serug. After Reu had Serug, he lived 207 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Serug was thirty years old, he had Nahor. After Serug had Nahor, he lived 200 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Nahor was twenty-nine years old, he had Terah. After Nahor had Terah, he lived 119 more years and had other sons and daughters.

When Terah was seventy years old, he had Abram, Nahor, and Haran.

[The Family Tree of Terah]

This is the story of Terah. Terah had Abram, Nahor, and Haran.

Haran had Lot. Haran died before his father, Terah, in the country of his family, Ur of the Chaldees.

Abram and Nahor each got married. Abram’s wife was Sarai; Nahor’s wife was Milcah, the daughter of his brother Haran. Haran had two daughters, Milcah and Iscah.

Sarai was barren; she had no children.

Terah took his son Abram, his grandson Lot (Haran’s son), and Sarai his daughter-in-law (his son Abram’s wife) and set out with them from Ur of the Chaldees for the land of Canaan. But when they got as far as Haran, they settled down there.

Terah lived 205 years. He died in Haran.

The Book of Genesis, Chapter 11 (The Message)

my personal reading of a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible or february 7 of 2020

[robininthelabyrinth]

Coldwave Prompt: “But what if I fall?/Oh, my darling, but what if you fly?”

Fic: Daydream Believer (AO3 Link)Fandom: The Flash, Legends of Tomorrow (mostly characterization)Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, background Lisa Snart/Cisco Ramon, Lisa Snart/Iris West/Eddie Thawne, Patty Spivot/Barry Allen

Summary: Everybody’s always wanted a chance to live out their wildest childhood dreams.

It just so happens that Leonard Snart, mild-mannered structural engineer, dreamed of being a comic-book style supervillain.

———————————————————————————————-

Everybody’s got dreams.

Some people have dreams that take them when they’re children, dreams of what their life could be, should be, glorious dreams that make you wake up with a smile on your face.

Some people get to live those dreams.

Others…don’t.

It’s not that Len doesn’t like being a structural engineer! As jobs go, it’s incredibly fulfilling, though he still wistfully wonders what would’ve happened if he’d taken accounting instead like he’d originally wanted. He’s got a masterful hand for design and a way of thinking that lets him visualize his buildings in perfect 3D in his head. Hell, even his hobby – studying the blueprints of buildings throughout the city to analyze them for security weaknesses and figure out how he could do it better – is work-related, so clearly, he enjoys what he does.

It’s just, you know.

It’s not what he dreamed of as a kid.

Of course, when Len was a kid, he dreamed of becoming a comics book style supervillain.

It’s not exactly a real job: you don’t see it on the quizzes suggesting what college major might be right for you, or job hunting on the Internet, or well, anywhere, really. It’s just the dreams a of a child.

Len doesn’t regret taking on the loans he did so that he could keep Lisa in his care, showing that – although young – he was a college student on the Right Track instead of a corrupt cop with a penchant for mob-related (and unsuccessful) theft or a junkie who only sometimes remembers that Lisa’s her daughter. He’s paid off those loans and he’s put Lisa into college and he’s, you know, doing okay. Got a good job, nice apartment, the works. He’s content. Maybe not happy, but content.

He still wishes he lived in a superhero universe, but hey, what can you do.

He figures that’s the end of it – keep going the way he is; now that he’s made partner at his firm and can do whatever the fuck he wants time-wise as long as the job gets done, he can presumably devote some time to finding a nice girlfriend or boyfriend or non-binaryfriend like Lisa keeps hinting at – and it would be, except for the Particle Accelerator explosion.

He’s working late that night, sees the flash of light outside his window, sees the news stories in the weeks that follow. A few months later, the first weird incident occurs. A little later, another.

The online community proposes that these incidents are actually caused by people – people who have been granted special powers by the Particle Accelerator explosion, like comic-book gamma rays except that they didn’t actually kill you and they did actually give you superpowers. These people are dubbed ‘metahumans’.

Len thinks it’s so cool.

He didn’t get any superpowers, of course – his life is not anywhere near that awesome – but he immediately runs to that great information consolidator, the Internet, to find out more. A few months in, he’s joined a chat group with the various Internet self-proclaimed experts on the subject of metahumans: Patty (taking police academy lessons so she can save up money for an eventual career as a CSI, whose Instagram pics of suspected metahuman sites are second to none), Kadabra (works in Mercury Labs, does freelance scientific analysis of various incidents, also weirdly obsessed with stage magic for some reason), Axel (high schooler with an attitude problem, but lots of free time to run errands for the rest of them), and, of course, Iris (metahuman blogger extraordinaire, always first on the scene – he thinks she works as a barista, but her dad’s a cop and she has smuggled out crime scene descriptions so even beyond her in-person investigation, she’s a glorious source of news-news-news. He keeps telling her to apply to be a journalist somewhere.)

It’s just a hobby, though.

Well, at first.

When the Streak appears, it’s – it’s not just a hobby anymore.

We’ve got a superhero!!! he texts the group, along with a picture stolen (hacked) from a speed camera. It shows definitively that the bolt of lightning is – as they suspected – a metahuman, not a force of nature.

I KNOW OMG, Iris responds immediately.

I haaaaate police academy, Patty sends. I want to be OUT THERE already!!! with the METAS!!!

Just skip, like I do, Axel texts.

You skip one more day and I will cut you into pieces in my lab, brat, Kadabra replies.

Seconded, Len sends. Structural engineer – I know where to bury body parts.

WTF, both of you, Axel says. And they say teenagers are morbid.

You more than most LOL, Patty sends.

What if he’s a danger?? Kadabra sends, ignoring the part of the chat that rapidly devolves into rude emojis going back and forth.

He’s been doing good work, Iris objects. Stopping bad guys.

We don’t know if they’re bad guys.

Uh, they’re trying to KILL PEOPLE; they’re bad guys.

I’m just saying, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with a superpowered metahuman deciding he can take justice into his own hands, Kadabra writes.

Kind of the definition of a superhero, Len notes.

Some of the people the Streak has stopped have disappeared, Patty says. Gotta say, it’s a little worrying.

For some reason, that’s what twigs the idea in his mind.

That old childhood dream.

Len stares at the chat, his friends going on and discussing the pros and cons of vigilantism, especially when superpowers are involved. Discussion of how balance works – whether the superhero is the response to the metahuman threat, or whether the superhero will act as a lightning rod to draw in more crazies – discussions of who watches the watchmen –

Guys, he texts the group. I think I’m going to become a supervillain.

OMG, Patty texts. Really???

Dead serious. That way I can keep the superhero on his toes & make sure he’s not murdering people at random, plus if any new bad guys show up, I’ll be able to get the first scoop.

I am so in, Iris texts. You have to tell us EVERYTHING.

You get me photos, I will give you my soul, Patty says.

I can help with lab analysis, Kadabra texts.

Oh, god, yes, me too!!! Patty throws in. Team Supervillain is definitely on as of right now!

We need a better name than that, Axel puts in. And I don’t know if I can do anything –

Stay in school and keep an eye on the rumors, Len says. I don’t want to get, like, a dumb name or anything.

But ur not a meta, Axel replies. The streak will kick ur ass.

I’ll figure something out :)

Len clicks out of the chat.

Hey, you know what they say about dreams. Shoot for the moon; you might land among the stars.

Not his fault his dream’s a little unorthodox.

——————————————————————————————————————

The first heist is easy enough to plan. A couple of drunks from the bad side of town, a handful of badly guarded diamonds, a really interesting use of liquid nitrogen, and suddenly everyone else in the slum part of downtown is convinced that he’s some super-thief from out of town despite his fairly heavy Central City accent.

He pays the guys out of his bank account – it’s amazing how little they’ll accept on the grounds that fencing diamonds is hard – and mails the diamonds back to the owners with some suggestions on how to improve security.

He’s not really expecting to get mail in return asking if he’d be interested in seeing if he can crack the security around the Kahndaq Dynasty Diamond, because they’re bringing in a very good fake – it is Central City, they’re not stupid – and they’d really like to know before they take the real Diamond on tour, but hey, it’s as good an excuse as any.

He gets a crew together.

And then the Streak comes.

OMG OMG OMG, Patty texts. Did he touch you???

He punched me, Len texts back, amused as ever by Patty’s enthusiasm.

HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD, Kadabra writes. SPEED = FORCE; SPEEDSTER PUNCH = DEAD LEN!!!

Maybe Len has no mass, Axel writes, clearly sitting in his science class at school.

It’s my lack of gravity that does it, Len writes back immediately, and grins when everyone sends him little dagger emojis.

He goes searching for something that’ll help him stop a speedster. He’d thought liquid nitrogen would be the answer – speed and cold, after all – but if he can’t even see the Streak, he’ll never be able to use it in a controlled manner, and he’s got to be cautious about these things.

Luckily, with his name, his family history, he can walk into the worst bar in Central and everyone will go ah, yes, Snart – he’s one of us.

The squirrelly man who sells goods from STAR Labs is a godsend.

(One who Patty proceeds to bag as her very first police arrest on the force, thanks to the evidence Len sent her; she’s very pleased.)

Len’s a little worried about whoever bought the matching heat gun before he could get there, but whatever.

He’s got a Streak to fight and a diamond to steal.

——————————————————————————————————————

CAPTAIN COLD, Iris texts gleefully. CAPTAIN FUCKING COLD!

I am the COOLEST supervillain, Len replies, equally gleeful.

Fuck you and the puns you came in on, Axel texts.

Just chill, Axel, Len sends.

I hate you.

No need to be so cold.

HATE.

Guys, I think Axel’s freezing me out. What do I do?

FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE!!!

Oh, he’s breaking out the Clue references, Iris types. Now we’re really in trouble.

Did you get the diamond? Kadabra asks.

Yeah, I’ve got it. Gonna send it back, of course, but right now it’s a great paperweight. Beautiful piece of ice.

Fuck you so bad, Axel writes. How are you simultaneously this awesome and this dorky?

Says the high schooler in the metahuman conspiracy chatroom, Len types. We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t dorks.

Still, well done, Iris writes. Icing the train was a work of genius. Very supervillain.

I’m still not sure how the Streak managed to turn what would have otherwise been a relatively minor slippage disturbance on the tracks into a fully-fledged train wreck, but whatever, Len replies. At least he also got everyone out.

And the awful night train is gone and the city finally has an excuse to replace it, Patty says happily. She’d had to ride that train for a while. They’ve already gotten approval from their insurance people; they’re so crazy happy right now. You’re everyone’s favorite supervillain.

Len smiles. He’s got the best team.

I want to know everything, Iris says. Not just what you gave me to put on the blog.

I’ve got a lead on who the Streak is, he tells her smugly. And he does, too – the faces of the Streak’s accomplices were unmasked, just right out there like they’re asking to be looked up online. And where you find accomplices, you find the mastermind – or, well, the hero.

Coffee. Tomorrow, Jitters, noon. OR DIE, she writes back immediately.

Oooh, RL meet-up! I’ll be there, Patty writes.

Bah, work; no way I’ll make it, but you’d better catch me up later, Kadabra writes. Axel – don’t even think about it.

Yeah, yeah. No worries. Tomorrow’s chemistry; I’m not skipping it.

Awww, our budding little chemical engineer, Patty coos.

With my sister in mechanical engineering, I think we’ve got the whole set, Len adds.

GOTTA CATCH ‘EM ALL, Patty writes.

So, CAPTAIN COLD, what’s next? Iris asks.

Len just smiles.

——————————————————————————————————————

Being a supervillain is basically better than anything Len could have possibly imagined.

He’s Captain Cold, now; people call him Cold instead of Snart, the bartender puts on Cold as Ice every time he comes to the bar – he has a theme song! – and he has an action figure.

People are still figuring out the whole Streak/Flash thing, since they can’t see him, but Captain Cold, they’re pretty damn sure is a villain.

Really, all he needs is an excuse to get the Flash to come and fight him one-on-one, and everything will be perfect. But he knows better than to just go out with the cold gun, flash it around – hah! – and hope everything will work out fine.

Kidnap one of the Flash’s teammates, Iris suggests. She’s got a rather wicked streak to her.

Are you sure you don’t want to be a supervillain, too? he asks.

Let me think of a theme first, she says. Right now I’m enjoying being the Flash’s favorite reporter.

I am rather curious as to why he chose you, Patty says. No offense, you’re great, but there’s a whole city of reporters with way more publicity than your blog gets.

I’m pretty sure he works with my dad sometimes, Iris says. Dad has been REALLY squirrelly about the whole metahuman/Flash thing. He’s even convinced my otherwise awesome foster-bro to try to talk me out of writing about the Flash because it’s ~~dangerous~~

Let me guess, Patty says. It’s OK for them because they’re guys, but you’re a delicate flower that needs to be protected.

Iris is the opposite of a delicate flower, Len writes. Iris will raze this city in her wake if she feels like it.

Awww, Len, you say the nicest things, Iris says. Still not sold on becoming part of your supervillain club. Which, FYI, you still need to name.

Villains United? Kadabra suggests.

Legion of Doom? Axel sends.

No, Len says. Relax, it’ll come to me. Besides, I don’t see any of you guys working out your supervillain identities.

I’ve got something planned, Axel writes.

Not if it interferes with school you don’t, Kadabra writes.

Ugh, FINE.

I’d join up in a heartbeat except for how the cop thing is currently paying my bills, Patty writes. Also, can we, like, murder Mark Mardon?

First we need to FIND Mark Mardon, and also pls keep all discussions of murder offline, Len writes.

Wasn’t it Clyde that killed your dad? Iris asks.

Same difference.

Not really…

I don’t want to talk about it.

Anyway, I’m still looking for the edge I need for the next match with the Flash, Len writes before the argument gets any more serious. Though I think the suggestion of kidnapping one of his teammates is a good one.

, Iris texts. Go for the girl; superheroes are so UGH about that.

You’re just sore about your dad + bro, Len texts back with a smile.

Hell yes I’m salty AF about it, she replies.

Len rolls his eyes and mildly hopes that Iris’ family figures out that no one puts Iris West in the corner before she does end up going supervillain on them.

——————————————————————————————————————

The few months after his first encounter with the Flash are spent gathering intel and – almost entirely by accident – creating a legend.

Everyone seems to assume that a supervillain has to have some sort of backstory, and Len’s sadly all-too-public family history – corrupt, abusive cop turned mob thief – has led to some seriously absurd speculation about him being a high-end diamond thief (due to the contract he now has with four of the diamond importers in town to test their security, which he’s been doing quite well – he can afford to pay the crew out of the advance proceeds, so even his savings aren’t taking a hit anymore) who is internationally wanted but who has connections with the criminal underground so deep that he’s managed to erase all of his criminal record.

Len laughs for, like, an hour when Axel tells him about it.

No one’s ever confronted him about it, or even mentioned it, so it’s not like there’s anything Len can do about it. He has no intention of lying about anything, but seriously, no one ever asks him anything. He just goes places, people are super into him, and then, after he fails to do anything spectacular, they forget about him and start talking.

Which is how he ends up drinking in a bar, listening to everyone chat around him, gathering what he needs to know. He’s never kidnapped anyone before; he’s gotta do his research.

And that’s when someone walks up to him and pokes him in the shoulder.

Len turns.

There’s a guy there – big guy, broad shoulders, shaved head, shiny patches of scarred skin starting around his neckline and crawling down his forearms, peeking out from under his loose grey button-down shirt.

“You Captain Cold?” the guy asks.

He’s got one of those voices that makes your toes curl.

Len’s, at least.

“You’re really hot,” Len’s traitorous mouth proceed to say, totally without his consent.

The guy blinks, obviously taken aback, but Len’s committed now, so he fixes on his best smirk and leans forward. “How can I help you?”

“You know, I’d heard you were a lot more chill than you are,” the guy says.

“Maybe you warm me up,” Len shoots back.

“Can’t be that icy if that’s all it takes to get you hot,” the guy replies, his lips spreading into a grin.

“What can I say? You were so hot, you stopped me cold,” Len says, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Guess I’m getting warmer by the minute with the puns.”

“What can I say?” Len says. “I know what lights my fire –”

The guy barks a laugh. “Mick Rory,” he says, face flushed with pleasure. “Arsonist. Nice to meet you.”

“Leonard Snart,” Len replies. “Supervillain.”

“Mind if I sit?”

“Please do,” Len says, eyes dropping to review the man’s very shapely figure and stopping cold (hah!) at the familiar-looking style of gun strapped into the man’s thigh. “I think you and me have lots to talk about.”

Mick follows Len’s gaze. “Yeah,” he says, and grins. “I think we do.”

——————————————————————————————————————

Glory glory glory hallelujah, Iris texts. Leonard Snart, you are the BEST. Central City has an official superhero at LAST!

The Flash, in person, Patty sends, attaching a few snapshots she snagged during the big confrontation.

Head to toe leather, really? Kadabra snipes. Is he a superhero or an escapee from a fetish convention?

If that was the case, it’d be PVC, not leather, Iris says.

TMI, Iris, he replies.

I’m a writer, Iris sends back. I know many, many things. Some stranger than others. I can send pics of some of those stranger things – tell me, how familiar are you with certain internet subcultures?

I yield the field, declare defeat, surrender unconditionally, etc., Kadabra replies. I don’t even know which one you’re thinking of, and I don’t WANT to know.

More importantly, why does he go with the full cowl? Axel sends. A domino mask is x100 cooler.

Let’s get back to how freaking AWESOME Len and his brand new buddy were out there, Iris sends. Did you get arrested after the big blow-out at the end?

I should have realized about crossing the streams, Kadabra sends apologetically. Sorry.

No worries, Len says.

At least there wasn’t a giant Stay Puft Man involved, Patty opines. Always a risk when you’re talking about crossing streams.

Len! Did! You! Get! Arrested?!?! Iris sends.

They made us do a walk of shame through the CCPD and then shoved us in a van headed for Iron Heights without processing us, Len reports. Totally illegal, btw, but whatever.

He’s a little steamed about that, actually; they didn’t even bother to check his fingerprints to see if he had a criminal record – he didn’t; hadn’t gotten so much as a driving ticket since he turned eighteen – and he’d consulted with Patty before he’d set up the fight. If the Flash showed up to fight him, literally all they’d be able to charge him with was being a public nuisance.

Well, and kidnapping, but for some reason he didn’t think Caitlin Snow would be making any statements to the police.

Reasons like “aiding and abetting a vigilante.”

But they hadn’t bothered – they’d looked at him and thought ‘Snart’, just like everyone else in his goddamn life, and coupled with Mick by his side, they’d tossed them straight into the prison van and figured they’d deal with them later.

Lisa had paid off the van drivers in advance, so the ensuing break-out was both spectacular and totally victim-less. And since the police hadn’t even charged him with anything, he can’t even be charged with escaping police custody.

“You texting your friends again?” Mick rumbles from next to him in the bed.

Len turns and grins at him. Sleepy and satisfied is a good look for Mick. Then again, Len hasn’t really found a look that isn’t good on him. “They’re good people,” he protests mildly.

“You like talking to ‘em, you talk to ‘em,” Mick says agreeably. “Gotta keep an eye on your crew.”

The way his thumb caresses Len’s hips indicates that he’s willing to make an effort to distract from it.

“They’re complimenting us on our excellent supervillain style,” Len tells Mick. “Let me enjoy my adoring public.”

“I’ll give you adoring,” Mick growls.

Len has just enough time to type BRB and toss the phone onto the bedside table.

——————————————————————————————————————

“I’m going to murder him,” Iris announces, walking straight into their apartment and throwing her hands in the air.

“I’m in,” Lisa puts in, grinning at her newly found best friend.

(Lisa had thought he was insane for the supervillain thing, then she’d met Iris and suddenly everything was a-okay in Lisa-land. Len’s pretty sure she’s angling for a threesome invite, and he’s pretty sure she’s going to get one, too, judging by the way Iris eyes her in return.)

“Which him?” Len asks mildly. “Speaking as a ‘him’, I’d prefer to know what I’m signing up for.”

Mick grunts from where he’s eating a bowl of cereal.

He’s adjusted quite quickly to random people walking in and yelling strange things, though he does tell Len he thinks it’s odd that Len’s chosen a safehouse in a fairly nice apartment complex where the neighbors sometimes knock to ask for a cup of sugar and to fist-bump him on his excellent supervillainy.

Len explained that he owns the apartment.

Mick was impressed.

“Eddie,” Iris says. “He’s in on the Flash thing now! And he’s refusing to tell me!”

“You haven’t told him that you know who the Flash is?” Len asks.

Iris snarls. “He’s my foster brother,” she says, her dramatics not hiding the fact that she’s actually pissed off about it. “And – I thought – my best friend. He should tell me these things. He’s told my dad, he’s told my boyfriend, he’s told random strangers that he only met after his coma –”

“Nine months in a coma after being struck by lightning, wakes up in better physical shape than before, suddenly hanging out with the Flash’s accomplices,” Lisa ticks off on her fingers.

“Add the fact that he obviously talks about it right before I come in through the door then changes the subject abruptly despite the fact that I totally heard him,” Iris says. “And sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking – I’m talking that I’m still in the room, just not looking his way –he’ll superspeed something. Like I won’t notice that the desk is suddenly clean or the dishes are all washed!”

“Isn’t his speed accompanied by lightning?” Mick asks.

“It is!” she wails. “That’s what makes it so stupid – does he really think I don’t see the light out of the corner of my eyes? Humans are born predators! We notice movement before we notice anything else, including variation in tone and texture and color! I can’t tell if he thinks I’m stupid or what!”

“He probably just thinks he’s very good,” Len puts in. “And he isn’t.”

“He’s a boy in his early twenties,” Lisa drawls. “They all think they’re much better than they are.”

Len sighs, long-suffering, as Iris and Mick laugh at his wrinkled nose. Just because he was happy that Lisa had an active and satisfying sex life didn’t mean he wanted to hear the details, really.

“Anyway, I have a plan to get you your guns back,” she says briskly.

“I’m listening,” Len says, smiling at how Mick perks up. Mick loves his gun: his pyromania is totally tickled pink (red?) by it.

“Second verse,” Iris says, “same as the first. But this time we kidnap a bit of extra incentive.”

——————————————————————————————————————

Len drops Cisco and Dante off at STAR Labs, no harm done to either of them.

“That was amazing,” Mick purrs.

“I didn’t do anything,” Len says, smiling. “It was Iris’ idea, bringing the brother in; and Lisa was able to grab Cisco, no problem.”

Though she really needed to stop collecting would-be lovers or she’ll end up in an orgy.

“The way you threatened him with frostbite was beautiful,” Mick says firmly. “I wouldn’t have thought to go after his fingers.”

“Piano player,” Len says, smirking. “You can always tell.”

“So we going to hit that truck?”

“Yep,” Len says, utterly satisfied. He can’t believe they’re so foolish as to send another diamond truck on the same route – god, he’s talked to them about this! He’ll have to be extra stern in his next letter. It helps that Mick isn’t in this for the cash – as long as there is cash, he doesn’t care if it comes from their thieving or if it just appears on the table.

Len’s bank account is rich and full. Mick’s barely making a dent.

(Len’s designing a bank for work at the moment, which honestly he could do in his sleep. It’s fun to split his time between blueprints for heists and blueprints for work. Also, the irony makes him smile.)

“You sure the Flash’ll let us hit it?” Mick asks doubtfully.

“Trust me,” Len says. “He’ll want to confront me about kidnapping his friend; he’ll forget that you two are perfectly capable of getting the truck all on your own.”

Sure enough, Len finds himself in the woods somewhere outside of Central.

“Maybe I’ll speed you off to my secret prison where you can’t hurt anyone,” the Flash says cockily.

“And then I won’t be around to stop my newsfeed from releasing your identity the world,” Len drawls in return. Honestly, did the Flash not think that he’s thought of this? That was like, contingency number one.

Besides, if Barry Allen really does go and lock him into STAR Labs, Iris will just break him out.

They end up bargaining: no attacks on the Flash’s friends and family (easily agreed) and no killing (even easier) in return for the Flash letting Len run free as his supervillain.

It all went even better than he thought.

The Flash ditches him, a crackle of lightning all he leaves behind.

The Rogues, he texts the group.

What? Iris replies.

Villain group name, he says. The Rogues.

I LOVE IT, Patty sends.

Okay, that’s pretty cool, Axel concedes. Not too dorky.

If you assholes would stop vetoing my supervillain ideas, I’d join up in a minute, Kadabra promises.

Stop having stupid stage magician themed ideas, then, Iris replies. This isn’t the 90s, okay? Only serious supervillains need apply.

There was a woman who murdered people with electric bees literally last week, Len points out.

And she’s not invited into the club, Iris shoots back.

Point, Len concedes.

I’m recruiting Hartley Rathaway, once I track him down, Patty says. Sonic gloves are great! Plus, deaf supervillain – disability representation for the win!

We got the truck, Mick sends. He’s been a little more hesitant to join the texting group, but once he was assured that the chatroom was as private as current internet hacking skills could manage and everyone was overwhelmingly nice to him, he’d slowly started warming up to them.

Pun intended, of course.

Great! Len replies encouragingly. He really wants Mick to be friends with everyone; it’s important to him that everyone is happy and comfortable with each other.

Then he looks around.

Speaking of comfortable…

Could you guys send me a pickup? I’ll turn on the GPS tracker on my phone so you can find me…

——————————————————————————————————————

Iris spends a lot of time curled up in Len’s apartment eating ice cream after the pseudo-black hole incident. She’s pissed off at Barry for nearly screwing everything up. She’s pissed off at Eddie for very nearly committing suicide. She’s pissed off at her dad for conspiring to keep her in the dark about the Flash stuff for months.

Honestly, at this point, Len’s crew and Firestorm – Stein and Ronnie both – may be the only people she’s talking to.

Len’s Rogues are growing nicely, though. Mick’s there, of course, as Heatwave, and Lisa under her knew alias as the Golden Glider. Hartley joined up happily enough and is going under the name Pied Piper – he’s currently working on some sort of sonic flute. Shanwa, surprisingly enough, actually likes the name Peek-a-Boo, and is as thick as thieves with Lisa and Iris and Patty. Axel found his calling as the Trickster – Kadabra yelled at him for three hours about doing anything with the old Trickster, ever again, and Axel had folded like a bad poker hand, especially after they’d explained exactly how badly he’d been played – and now he’s using and abusing his chemistry genius.

He’s still going to school and getting good grades, though. He swears after his last stunt, Kadabra abruptly appears and looms over his shoulder any time he even thinks of skipping.

Of course, Axel also claims that Kadabra has started cooking up actual magic in that lab of his.

Kids.

“I just hate all of them,” Iris says sulkily.

“I feel you,” Len says.

Admittedly, he’s only half paying attention. His bank design is getting to the crazy portion; he needs to devote a lot of attention or the finicky details won’t iron out right.

“I think I want to be a supervillain, too,” she says.

“You’re not really cut out for it,” Mick says, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I could be,” Iris says stubbornly.

“You’ve barely ever broken a law in your life,” Mick points out. “Never been arrested, never gone to jail, never got scarred up like the rest of us. You’re not like me and Len. Just leave it be.”

“I’ll think about it,” she says grumpily.

“You don’t even have a good theme yet,” he says soothingly, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

“Fine, fine. That one’s actually a good point,” Iris says, snuggling into the blanket.

Len smiles distractedly at Mick being adorably fuzzy. He’ll have to make up the last few weeks up to Mick somehow – maybe take him out for a nice burn on one of the condemned properties that Len bid for the destruction contracts for weeks ago, right after he first met Mick and learned about his pyromania.

He doesn’t think about what Mick said.

——————————————————————————————————————

“Oh god,” Len says.

“You killed him,” Barry says.

“Oh god,” Len says.

“Lisa was safe! You didn’t have to!”

“Oh god.”

“Um,” Barry says. “You’re – kind of freaking out?”

“He’s dead!”

“…yes?” Barry says, blinking. “Was that not the point?”

“Yes, but – but – oh my god!”

“I’m – okay, you’re seriously freaking out here. Is it because he’s your dad?”

“It’s because he’s dead!”

“…is there anything I can do to make you freak out less?” Barry asks helplessly. “Because you’re starting to freak me out.”

“Lisa,” Len says weakly. “I need Lisa. And Mick. Oh god.”

“Right,” Barry says, and suddenly everything is a blur.

Lisa is on her feet at the sight of them, dropping the towel she was holding to her mildly bloody neck. “What did you do to him?!” she shouts.

“Nothing!” Barry yelps. “Nothing! I swear! He shot your dad and then he started flipping out!”

“Go get Mick! And Iris! Now!” Lisa orders, whipping out her phone and texting.

Barry’s gone before she finishes talking.

Len is on the floor. He doesn’t remember sitting down.

“Lenny? Lenny, baby, it’s okay,” she says, crouching down next to him. “Lenny – Lenny, baby, big bro, it’s okay – look at me – you’re having a panic attack –”

Len’s ears are ringing and everything seems very far away. He can’t get his father’s face out of his mind.

“I got Mick!” Barry announces, reappearing with the man. “And Iris! Wait. Why did I go get Iris?”

Iris rushes forward. “Got your text,” she says. “Oh, Len!”

Mick kneels down and wraps his arms around Len. It helps with the shaking.

“He’s dead,” he tells Mick stupidly. “He’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Mick asks.

“Our dad,” Lisa says. “He put a bomb in my neck and made Lenny run jobs for him.”

“Shit,” Mick says, looking guilty. “I shoulda known something was up when you said you needed some time to yourself.”

“I didn’t want you involved,” Len says through numb lips. “He’s – he’s bad, Mick. He’s really bad.”

“And now he’s gone for good,” Lisa says. She sounds satisfied.

Len groans.

“…which I will never mention again, Lenny, I’m so sorry you had to do that!” she adds.

Iris is patting his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay.”

“Irsi!” Barry yelps. “Since when do you know Captain Cold?”

“I’m part of his Rogues, duh,” she replies. “Which maybe I wouldn’t have been, if someone had told me that they were the fucking Flash instead of keeping me in the dark and lying to my face for a year.”

Barry winces.

They’re still not talking about it.

“Wait,” Cisco says. “You’re a supervillain?”

“I’m more of a behind the scenes organizer,” Iris sniffs. “I haven’t thought of a theme yet. Anyway, can we focus on Len now?”

“He’s dead,” Len says dully. “I killed him.”

“Isn’t that kind of what you guys do?” Cisco asks.

“I’ve never killed anyone before in my life!” Len protests.

“What?!” Barry yelps. “But – we made that deal about you not killing anyone –”

“Easy enough to promise,” Len says. “Didn’t plan to do it anyway.”

“You really never killed anybody?” Mick says, sounding mildly surprised. “Not even in prison?”

“He’s never been in prison,” Lisa says. “Well, not except as, like, a visitor.”

“What, really?” Mick says, blinking.

“How’d he manage that?” Caitlin asks, frowning. “Statistically, most expert criminals spend at least a little time in prison before they’ve perfected their technique –”

“He’s a supervillain, not a criminal,” Lisa says impatiently. “He’s never been to prison, he’s never been arrested – well, not properly – and the worst thing he’s ever gotten was a parking ticket for letting the time meter run out while he was visiting me in the hospital one time.”

“No way,” Cisco protests. “I saw the stories online – he’s got a record a mile long, only he deleted it all –”

“Those are just stories,” Iris says. “I helped spread some of them.”

“Iris, you didn’t,” Len says.

“Oh, good, he’s starting to come out of it.”

“You’re not a criminal?” Mick says slowly. “Not at all?”

“I wanted to be a supervillain,” Len says. He’s tired and his head hurts and he thinks he may have hurt Mick’s feelings somehow, even though he never lied about anything. He should have been more clear, he guesses. “Childhood dream. Had to put it aside to take care of Lisa. Then, when the Flash appeared…I figured it was time.”

“You steal diamonds all the time!” Cisco shouts.

“Yeah,” Len says. “And I send ‘em back after with comments on improving their security against metahuman and super-threats. I get paid an average of 50k per successful robbery, which is honestly more than I’d get fencing the diamonds on the black market.”

“What,” Barry says.

“How do you afford that sweet apartment?” Mick demands. “And all the extra cash you always have?”

“Lenny’s partner in a mid-sized architectural design firm,” Lisa says proudly.

“I’m designing a bank right now,” Len offers, closing his eyes.

“You’re designing a bank?”

“I specialize in figuring out architectural design for high security needs,” Len says. “I basically spend all day trying to figure out how to break into places and then turning it around to figure out how to stop people from doing what I just did.”

“You’re in the house all day,” Mick says. He sounds upset. “You don’t, like, go into an office or anything.”

“I’m a partner,” Len says, leaning his head against the wall. “I took flex-time leave; I work from home now. Telecommuting. You see me skype with my employees sometimes.”

“Wait – the guys you’re always yelling about banks with are your employees?” Mick says.

“Imagine having Captain Cold as a boss,” Cisco says, marveling.

“You’re basically a normal person,” Barry says, sounding horrified.

“Yes, and he just had a very traumatic experience,” Iris says. “So stop badgering him.”

“He killed someone!”

“He killed his abusive father, who just put a bomb into his sister’s neck!” Iris shouts. “Maybe if you actually cared about your family, you’d pay some attention to that!”

“I do care!” Barry shouts back. “That’s why I lied!”

“Because you don’t trust me!”

“No! Because I want to keep you safe! Damnit, Iris, I thought I was doing the right thing!”

“Well you weren’t! You were just being selfish, like you always are!”

Len pulls up his knees, feeling very small. He hates it when people yell.

He feels Mick’s arm wrap around him and he lets his head fall into Mick’s shoulder. “M’sorry I didn’t make it clear,” he mutters into Mick’s neck. “Shoulda said. Like Iris and Barry. But you only wanted a partner in crime, and I wanted you…”

“We’re still partners in crime,” Mick says. His voice is low and harsh as always, but it’s still the sweetest thing Len’s ever heard. “You’re still a supervillain, remember? Leader of the Rogues.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not a proper criminal?”

“You’re a proper criminal to me,” Mick assures him.

Lisa puts her fingers to her mouth and whistles a sharp, piercing whistle that deafens the entire room.

“You’re all being stupid!” she roars, making everyone take at least three steps back. “Iris, Barry was being a dumbass, but he meant well and he’s apologized. Get over it. Barry, all Iris wants is for you to say you’ve learned your lesson, you’re sorry, and that you’re never going to hide anything from her ever again.”

They blink.

“Now.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve learned my lesson, I will hide nothing from you ever again,” Barry says quickly.

“Apology accepted and I’m sorry for what I said about you not caring about family,” Iris says, equally quickly. “I know that you care a lot and it was really uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I understand why you were upset,” Barry says.

“Don’t try to get me to make up with my dad, though, I’m still pissed at him,” she warns.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Barry says.

“You’re literally thinking of ways to do it right now.”

“Yes,” Barry says, nodding. “In the spirit of not hiding things from you: yes, yes I am.”

“Can we stop apologizing now or will you kill us?” Iris asks Lisa.

Lisa crosses her arm and surveys both of them. “Fine,” she says. “Acceptable. Also, while we’re at it, Cisco, we’re going out for dinner tomorrow. 8 PM. Wear something nice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cisco says. His eyes are shining. “Wait, if he’s a structural engineer, does that mean you’re really a mechanical engineer?”

“Yep,” she says.

“Awesome,” he says.

“Hey, Flash,” Mick says. “Help me get Len home? I think he needs some peace and quiet, maybe some hot cocoa.”

“With mini-marshmallows?” Len asks plaintively.

“Of course,” Mick assures him. “Flash?”

“Uh, sure,” Barry says. “I’ll…do you have to be a supervillain?”

“I keep my Rogues obeying the rules we made,” Len points out. “I make sure nothing really gets stolen, or at least that no one gets hurt by it. If any new supervillain comes to town, they’ll probably come to try to recruit me first. My contacts on the police force help me turn in the really bad guys –”

“Who do we know who’s on the police force?” Mick asks.

“Patty.”

“Patty?” Barry yelps. “My girlfriend?”

“Your what?!” Iris says, starting to grin.

“Well, I mean, I just asked her out yesterday…”

“Patty,” Mick says. “Patty. Instagram girl.”

“Yep.”

“The police really take all types,” Mick says. “Who’d you get arrested? Anyone I know?”

“The two assholes that were making fun of you in the bar.”

Mick’s lips twitch with amusement. “You mean the ones I beat up for doing it?”

“Doesn’t mean they should be doing it. Mental illness isn’t funny.”

Mick shakes his head and pulls Len close, running his fingers through his hair. Len sighs and lets his shoulder slump.

What a bad week.

“We’re not allowed to have weeks like this ever again,” he says, only half-awake at this point.

“Sure thing, Lenny,” Mick says. “Now go to sleep; I’ll yell at you tomorrow. First kill’s always the hardest, especially if it’s family. Took me ages to get over my family dying in a fire, and that was an accident.”

“You’re the best,” Len slurs.

“I beat up nice structural engineers who were abused as children and mentally ill people with tragic pasts,” Barry moans. “What sort of hero am I?”

“Barry, I know we’ve made up and all, but I have to say that your existential crisis is giving me life right now,” Iris says.

“Yeah, yeah – wait, what are you doing? Are you texting someone?”

“I’m live-blogging this for the Rogues. Obviously.”

“You’re what?!”

[survivormuxloe]

Episode 13: "so things went from Guatemala to Guatepeor” - Ahrre

david REALLY GOT BRAVE TRYNA COME FOR ME WHEN HIS ASS AINT IMMUNE HUH. aint it so.. vote me and ur ass gonna go... ijs!! rip my perf game but at least i was the last person to recieve votes so thats kinda cute.. it doesnt change the fact that im winning tho ALMFNBG like. just 3/4 more tribals to survive bitch.. give those immunity wins to me pls x :)))

LOWKEY MY ASS WAS NERVOUSSSS LIKE I DONT WANNA READ MY NAME ON THOSE PIECES OF PAPER AGAIN THO!!! altho my name is cute written out by anna highkey ngl.. maybe she'll write them in cursive for my winner reveal? x

my mind tho. rhys/tobi/ryan r all under my spell. missus mo and ahrre got brave and are gunna get a taste of hell when im not dying under exams lol x ALMFJHBFG

lvoe u gusys. xoxo ur winner scooty toots

Well fuck. David is gone. I’m in the minority. So now it’s just me and Ahrre. But I don’t want to settle for 6th or 5th place. I’ve made it this far I wanna make it to the end. So I’m going to try to wiggle my way through.

http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/41700000/Avengers-Endgame-2019-avengers-infinity-war-1-and-2-41740034-540-225.gif

So the situation is looking pretty grim, Rhys stuck with the majority, David the absolute unit is dead and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm the next one to go.

So right know things change as it's no longer about getting majority but rather get that group of 4 to cannibalize itself. Now the thing is that each of those 4 seem so confident in their position but only 3 make it to the end so that means at least one will end up being left out and that's just with a minimum level of snaking, but we know they are capable of way more shafty shit.

But their overconfidence in their position is not the only problem. It's also kinda hard when I've tried to blindside 3 of them. But hey at least you can't say I didn't try. Tobi is not willing to even tell me anything until tomorrow after we do the challenge. But he also says he's rooting for me as an underdog even if we're in oposite sides... Cheky fecker trying to get my jury vote...

As for the rest well I'll try to talk to them tomorrow, if I can commend Mo for something is that at least they might be more willing to work with him than me, which is clearly not a good thing for my game but eh wadda you do. I know for a fact by now everyone is gonna be saying that the plan is me going home probably 5-1 but if that's gonna end up being true or just a bluff for one of the 4 to get blindsided is still to see.

Either way I'm gonna try to stir some shit up and not be a voulnerable pleb waiting to be taken out or saved. Better dead than a goat.

These fattys are going down one by one... i love it... like highkey david going means that me and scott have to step up our physical games if we wanna take out ryan... someone else has to win immunity and then we can start pinning moves on ryan... I'm slowly repairing my relationship with ahrre by having a frank talk with him about our relationship in the game, which was both awkward but i think it helped??? im trynna work him pretty hard because he's a tough nut to crack but i think i can do it hehe... scott is working on mo but lets be real mo is easier to crack than ahrre, and honestly rhys' performance last tribal was good.. too good imo like.. i previously pinned him as an inactive goat but if he's able to connect with the other side that well and have them believe what he was saying, i have to give him props because that's some good plays in terms of benefiting our alliance for knowledge, bad jury management sure, but good for the alliance... at this point tbh,,, who the fuck cares about jury management... but then again it's important if you wanna win so maybe im just a dumbass

Well right now it’s final 6 and the question of a final 2 or 3 is up for debate because it could be either or.

After that tribal and David left, he tried to expose me when I had exposed myself already to the people he exposed me too. So sis there was no new tea.

Honestly now one of our 4 needs to go. The only one I would feel confident about going to the end with would be Ryan. Just as I feel he has done less. I’m super close with Scott, so I think right now I need to try and convince some people to vote out Ryan.

The only problem is I will probably need to convince Ryan and Scott or mo and ahrre. Mo and ahrre may not that me after lying to them two rounds in a row. And Scott seems to be strong for our alliance sticking to the end. So I’m going for this immunity as if I win it should all the confidence I need to make a move against my own.

I’m not feeling great. I don’t like a conversation I just had. It made me wanna quit. I’m not going to because I wanna do my best.

i really found an idol day 1 and made it to final 6 with it safe and sound.... ctfu how did this even happen, and Scott too we rly did that. the only thing about that is.... at least until we surpass final 5, there's always that worry that im gonna make a fool of myself with it and hnnnng. i feel like our 4 is solid af and yet, i'm still making myself paranoid that Tobi or even Rhys would perk up and randomly try to blindside me or Scott... but anyway yeah thats where my head at rn. i still don't talk to ahrre at all so he's a complete mystery and no idea if anyone else talks to him so that's great. Mo is an oddball still idk what to do w him kfsdfa

So I want to flip on my alliance this round. But 2 people outside my alliance are throwing me hardcore under the bus. Ok. So like how am I gonna make a move now.

pls god... lett this immunity challenge be in my favour alkfjnhfg i just want a win pls pls pls let me be guaranteed f4 lol

I just had a really good conversation with Tobi and it’s making me like really happy because this entire game I’ve gotten the short end of the stick. With people not thinking I don’t deserve to be here, that I’m a goat and people sending me condescending messages about my mistakes. It feels really nice to get praised for the good things. Don’t get me wrong I own up to my mistakes and I do my best to improve and change moving forwardss so I don’t make the same mistakes again. But usually the conversations that happen before that aren’t very happy, they’re needed and they end on a peaceful note but they don’t start out happy. But Tobi just praised me on my gameplay complimenting me and it’s such a good feeling. I think I might end up in fifth or sixth place but I’m still proud of myself and I’m going to keep fighting till the end.

so like... I'm really happy i won immunity but im kinda more annoyed with scott right now like... we had this big plan to take out ryan at 6 which is literally a perfect time now since 1) we can access numbers for it 2) he wont suspect it so the chance of an idol popping up is low 3) we can gain trust with ahrre and mo this way... but NOOOOOOOOO lets play with our emotions instead of our BRAINS and take out someone who has played a bad game and would be EASY to beat in the end like JESUS and i thought ahrre had his head up his ass... also scott is SO fucking confident know like he acts like he will 100% win against anybody in ftc and like sis... that's not the case... not if you're constantly confronting and arguing with mo and ahrre... use. ur. BRAIN.

Cemetery....

Anywho, this vote. Mo & Ahrre are voting me probably. So It seems to be a 4-2 vote. However an Idol may be played now more than ever, as I think this is the first time someone from the bottom hasnt had any hope of staying. (Dani, Felix & Jones were all blindsided , and Michael & David had some chance of staying). So one could easily be played. So ima try to push a 2-2-2 vote to save my ass.

so. (: I lost spelling bee. (: LAMDLFNFG

lowkey feel as if the words are suitable to the player tho. embarrass for ahrre as in that game is embarrassing. accommodate for Mo as in we have to accommodate for the fact that he’s a goat. Cemetary for rhys bc he makes us all wanna die @ tribals. handkerchief for me bc my ass gotta clean up ryan and tobi wanting to target each other.. and rhythm for tobi bc while hes in time rn that time is gonna run out soon :flushed:

i just dont want 6th ):

So I know it’s me and Ahrre on the chopping block. I just kinda wanted to make a quick plea. I really really wanna stay. I want to go as far as I can even if that’s just fifth. Not only to prove people wrong thinking I don’t deserve to be here, but also to prove to myself. Whatever decision you make tonight I respect wholeheartedly. But I’d love to go further.

I CACKLED @ THIS COPY PASTED PLEA.. MO BABY WYD

I’m currently making my plea to the others on why I deserve to stay. I’m proud of myself no matter the outcome but I’d love to go as far as I can.

So ahrre and mo are both kindve pleading for themselves. Mo just wants him to be saved where as ahrre is trying to flip people. He is trying to flip me again which is funny. Lowkey am a little worried just Incase it’s a ploy to get people to vote me or something. But he needs me and tobi to flip. So I think he won’t vote me which is great, incase a surprise idol is played.

soooo final 6 tribal. I definitely want Ahrre to leave finally, so how to make that happen. Scott informed me that mo/ahrre lowkey suspect i have an idol so wig. i would prefer if we went 4 strong on Ahrre bc I really don't think he has any powers, but the thing about that is i don't want to campaign for that to happen and make it look like i feel safe about idols... i don't want tobi or rhys to get suspicious and get the urge to flip on me/scott.. so kinda tricky. we'll see what happens

so recently scott and ryan have really been pounding on mo for his goatness and like... I took advantage of that hehe... I talked to mo and had a real heart to heart with him and like... I told him that he deserves more credit than he's getting and then more wholesome stuff and then BAM we got past the barrier we previously had and now we're totally cool!!... where ryan and scott burn bridges, im gonna build new ones!! so like that wasnt TOTALLY just for strategy like im not that big of an asshole... but its a mix of both. mo is a good kid and he gets too much backlash for his game.. and im gonna take advantage of that by showing up as his guardian angel hehe.. and who knows like this might pay off hugely when i need his vote at f5 to take out a bigger player but for now i'll stick to tending to his wounds that scott and ryan left.. and they really did come for him pretty hard... like REALLY hard so there is no harm in coming to him and helping him with his confidence and who knows, that might be a jury vote right there

Right so things went from Guatemala to guatepeor, I didn't win immunity I actually flopped at it in wonderful fashion it was quite beautiful really. But anyhow Tobi ended up winning it.

So I tried to talk to people and get them to do ANYTHING but to no avail really. Ryan and Scott seem set on stone. I did get Tobi to tell me that if it ties 3-3 he would flip on the revote but that's just playing it safe. Rhys told me he doesn't want to go to rocks so I'm like hey Tobi supposedly flips on the revote so maybe there's no need for that go talk to Tobi.

But they all seem to be giving me the silence threatment right before tribal even Mo has accepted what seems to be me going home.

It's a shame really cause if I do end up going home one of the majority of 4 is gonna regret it the very next week and two more later when the 4th beats them at the end. But hey congrats to that 4th guy whoever it is.

I've tought about doing an idol bluff but it wouldn't make sense for me to tell anyone I have it. Even Mo since if I hipotetically had it he wouldn't help me with it because he would be the one going home probably. Also because I would've definitely played it in a previous round for someone else if I had it and the rest probably knoes that.

Either way rn I'm currently trying to get home in time for tribal since I had to walk a chunk because I almost didn't had enough for the bus fare lel. Who knows maybe I'll survive somehow like the cockroach I am but I don't rate my chances or luck very highly. Either way at the end of the day I'm happy and you can't say I didn't try!

Ahrre is voted out 5-1.

[alanajacksontx]

8 tips for improving your content creation

The rise of content marketing has brought content creation to the forefront for all businesses. This makes it more important than ever to explore the best ways to create effective content.

The definition of effective content for every business may be different, but in general, it still has to bring you closer to your goals.

That’s why effective content has to resonate with your target readers.

Earlier this summer, I gave a presentation entitled “15 ways to improve your content writing” at the Summit on Content Marketing. Here are the first eight of those tips.

Set a writing process

A structured writing process can help you save time and become more productive. As there’s an increasing need for content nowadays, it’s important to find the best process that can help you focus on content creation.

For example, it might be helpful to dedicate a set block of time on your calendar for content writing, putting aside all distractions.

If you start to get stuck, it may be a good idea to stay away from the copy for a while and either take a break or have someone else read it for a fresh perspective.

Creative brainstorming

It’s not always easy to come up with a new content idea, and this can sometimes require some creative brainstorming moments with other team members.

Keeping a content calendar or notebook can help you organize all your ideas, ranked from best to worst – any of these can offer a new perspective on your content goals.

If you’re still struggling for content ideas, take a look at our 21 quick ways to find inspiration for creating content to help you with your next great post.

Grab the reader’s attention

Although the widely-reported ‘fact’ that we now have an attention span of 8 seconds has been called into question, internet users are more discerning with their time than ever before. There is a huge abundance of content available online, and your content needs to be able to grab the user’s attention, and hold it, in order to succeed.

In the digital world, there is any number of competing demands on the user’s attention. Our attention shifts from one task to another as we open new tabs or check multiple screens. Why should the user keep reading – or watching, or listening to – your content? You need to hook their attention and keep it there. 

Explore different types of content

One way to convince users to pay more attention to your content marketing is to mix up your formats. The last few years have seen an explosion in the types of content available to create and host online, with each one serving a different purpose.

Images 

Images are the most popular type of visual content. They offer a powerful impact on a message and they certainly create a memorable experience. It is easier for the human brain to actually process an image and this increases the chances for your copy to be remembered.

As 65% of people are visual learners, there is more chance your readers will notice your content if you pair it with the relevant images.

Infographics

Information graphics, or infographics, are graphic visual representations of information, data or knowledge intended to present information quickly and clearly.  The use of graphics enhances our ability to see patterns and trends, which makes complex information more appealing and shareable.

Readers tend to spend more time processing an infographic, compared with a written text, and that’s what makes them engaging, especially when they are added as part of a blog post. They’re also more shareable than other types of content. In fact, infographics are shared and liked three times more than any other visual content.

This makes them a very useful addition to the promotion of your content, and it’s no surprise that marketers are using them more and more in their content marketing strategy.

Video

Video content has taken the lead as the most popular visual type of content over the last two years, a trend which has been boosted by social media. According to Cisco, videos will make up 80% of all internet traffic by 2019. This highlights how video content is going to become even more important. Even if we don’t use it as our primary form of content, it is still a powerful medium to support our message. 

For example, we can use a short video to:

– share tips and “how-to” ideas

– build trust

– increase engagement

– add value

Live video is another emerging trend, and it offers an immediacy that online users seem to enjoy quite a lot. Marketers and business owners have placed video among their top priorities for 2017 in an attempt to create more appealing and effective content.

Remember, it’s not always necessary to hire a video producer to create short and entertaining videos that offer value to your audience.

GIFs

A GIF, which stands for Graphics Interchange Format, is a type of an animated image that was developed more than 30 years ago. It may not be new, but it’s a popular form of media with online users, as a quick way to share visual content that straddles the line between an image and a video.

According to Giphy, there are currently around 150 million original GIFs out there online. They can be more powerful than an image, but they are also smaller in size than a video. Although GIFs are usually funny and informal, they can still fit with your content strategy, provided that you know how to use them in the right context of course.

For example, how about using a GIF to explain a process in a “how-to” post? Or how about using a funny movie quote in an attempt to show your casual side while trying to show a more personal approach?

GIFs can help you to:

– show your brand’s personality

– divide large chunks of text

– explain a process

– tell a story

What all of these types have in common is the creative way to present content, reaching people who like consuming content in different ways.

For example, if you want to explain a complicated concept, you can use an infographic to make the process easier for your audience. You can still create a blog post, and integrate the infographic with the rest of the written content.

This increases the chances for your audience to stay engaged and enjoy what you have to offer.

Decide on the ideal length for your content

Content marketers often wonder whether long-form content is dead in the era of ‘bite-sized’ content. It may seem logical to assume that readers prefer shorter content, but this isn’t always the case.

According to Orbit Media Studios, blog content is actually getting longer year by year. In 2016 the average blog post length was 1054 words – up from 887 words in 2015.

This means that readers still value long-form content – provided that it’s interesting of course.

Of course, length alone won’t guarantee the success of your content.

However, the length of your content can indicate the depth of the topic you’re covering. If the goal of your copy is to increase awareness, build trust and offer value, then the length may be a key part of your success.

You just need to find a balance between quantity and quality.

Aim for clear structure

Your readers will appreciate a piece of content that is clear and organized. There’s no need to suffocate your writing with big chunks of sentences.

Another point to consider is how people consume content through different devices. Not everyone accesses your content through the same screen, which means that your content has to be optimized for all devices.

This includes its layout. What seems like a small paragraph on a desktop may turn out to be a really big paragraph on a mobile device. And that’s a good reason to test your content on all devices before you publish it.

Moreover, you can organize your thoughts using bullet points, which has the dual benefit of being direct and practical, while also being more clearly readable, helping readers to focus on the most important aspects of your message.

Bullet points can be useful at the end of a piece of text as an overview of what you’ve covered. This is a quick way to allow readers to get back to the things they need to remember from what they’ve just read.

Beware, though – too many bullet points can produce the exact opposite result.

Spend time on formatting your content

How does formatting differ from structure? This has to do more with the way you present your actual content, rather than the way you organize the sentences. However, they are both important in their own way, with the ultimate goal being to convince readers to spend more time on your content.

For example, if you want to make your content more appealing, then you need to add images throughout the text. It’s usually suggested we add the images in a way that they separate the longer paragraphs. If you want to make a point through a series of paragraphs, then break those up with an image that supplements your content, giving the readers’ eyes a break.

When it comes to formatting, one of the most important tips is to pay attention to headings.

Headings allow you to divide your content into logical sections, each one headed up by a catchy title. Spend a decent amount of time thinking up each heading – and don’t be afraid to use plenty of them.

Ranging in terms of importance (and font size), headings span from H1 to H6. You can use a range of different header sizes if you want to label certain sections of your content with subheadings, or you can stick with just a couple throughout.

It’s also useful to keep in mind that headings contribute to SEO and the way search engines discover your content. As crawlers, the magic bots that search for content, access your writing, headings make your content structure easier to parse, and help to highlight the important bits.

Thus, if your headings are relevant and interesting, you’re also going to help your content rank well in search.

Set a goal for your content

Before you dive into content writing, it’s useful to set a goal of what you want to achieve with your content.

There are many ways to use your content. Not every post should serve the same goal and in fact, it’s useful to have a variety of content with different purposes.

For example, your latest post can promote your new product, but it’s probably not a good idea to do that with a series of ten posts in a row.

Readers don’t like overt promotion via content, but you can still create valuable content that happens to also be promotional. Just ensure that your content serves a genuine purpose beyond promoting whatever you want to draw attention to. Ask yourself: What would I, as the reader, be able to learn from this?

While setting a goal for your content, make sure you’re not turning your content into an automatic machine of business jargon. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking of the outcome more than the actual process before it. If you’re only thinking of the goal and not the copy, then you risk losing your unique brand voice and your readers along with it.

Set a goal, then start writing, leave the goal aside and focus on your content. Once your post is published and you’re tracking metrics, you can return to the initial goal and see whether you’ve come close to achieving it.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2 of this post, where we’ll look at seven more tips that can improve your content marketing.

from IM Tips And Tricks https://searchenginewatch.com/2017/08/01/8-tips-for-improving-your-content-creation/ from Rising Phoenix SEO https://risingphxseo.tumblr.com/post/163676579625

[kellykperez]

8 tips for improving your content creation

The rise of content marketing has brought content creation to the forefront for all businesses. This makes it more important than ever to explore the best ways to create effective content.

The definition of effective content for every business may be different, but in general, it still has to bring you closer to your goals.

That’s why effective content has to resonate with your target readers.

Earlier this summer, I gave a presentation entitled “15 ways to improve your content writing” at the Summit on Content Marketing. Here are the first eight of those tips.

Set a writing process

A structured writing process can help you save time and become more productive. As there’s an increasing need for content nowadays, it’s important to find the best process that can help you focus on content creation.

For example, it might be helpful to dedicate a set block of time on your calendar for content writing, putting aside all distractions.

If you start to get stuck, it may be a good idea to stay away from the copy for a while and either take a break or have someone else read it for a fresh perspective.

Creative brainstorming

It’s not always easy to come up with a new content idea, and this can sometimes require some creative brainstorming moments with other team members.

Keeping a content calendar or notebook can help you organize all your ideas, ranked from best to worst – any of these can offer a new perspective on your content goals.

If you’re still struggling for content ideas, take a look at our 21 quick ways to find inspiration for creating content to help you with your next great post.

Grab the reader’s attention

Although the widely-reported ‘fact’ that we now have an attention span of 8 seconds has been called into question, internet users are more discerning with their time than ever before. There is a huge abundance of content available online, and your content needs to be able to grab the user’s attention, and hold it, in order to succeed.

In the digital world, there is any number of competing demands on the user’s attention. Our attention shifts from one task to another as we open new tabs or check multiple screens. Why should the user keep reading – or watching, or listening to – your content? You need to hook their attention and keep it there. 

Explore different types of content

One way to convince users to pay more attention to your content marketing is to mix up your formats. The last few years have seen an explosion in the types of content available to create and host online, with each one serving a different purpose.

Images 

Images are the most popular type of visual content. They offer a powerful impact on a message and they certainly create a memorable experience. It is easier for the human brain to actually process an image and this increases the chances for your copy to be remembered.

As 65% of people are visual learners, there is more chance your readers will notice your content if you pair it with the relevant images.

Infographics

Information graphics, or infographics, are graphic visual representations of information, data or knowledge intended to present information quickly and clearly.  The use of graphics enhances our ability to see patterns and trends, which makes complex information more appealing and shareable.

Readers tend to spend more time processing an infographic, compared with a written text, and that’s what makes them engaging, especially when they are added as part of a blog post. They’re also more shareable than other types of content. In fact, infographics are shared and liked three times more than any other visual content.

This makes them a very useful addition to the promotion of your content, and it’s no surprise that marketers are using them more and more in their content marketing strategy.

Video

Video content has taken the lead as the most popular visual type of content over the last two years, a trend which has been boosted by social media. According to Cisco, videos will make up 80% of all internet traffic by 2019. This highlights how video content is going to become even more important. Even if we don’t use it as our primary form of content, it is still a powerful medium to support our message. 

For example, we can use a short video to:

– share tips and “how-to” ideas

– build trust

– increase engagement

– add value

Live video is another emerging trend, and it offers an immediacy that online users seem to enjoy quite a lot. Marketers and business owners have placed video among their top priorities for 2017 in an attempt to create more appealing and effective content.

Remember, it’s not always necessary to hire a video producer to create short and entertaining videos that offer value to your audience.

GIFs

A GIF, which stands for Graphics Interchange Format, is a type of an animated image that was developed more than 30 years ago. It may not be new, but it’s a popular form of media with online users, as a quick way to share visual content that straddles the line between an image and a video.

According to Giphy, there are currently around 150 million original GIFs out there online. They can be more powerful than an image, but they are also smaller in size than a video. Although GIFs are usually funny and informal, they can still fit with your content strategy, provided that you know how to use them in the right context of course.

For example, how about using a GIF to explain a process in a “how-to” post? Or how about using a funny movie quote in an attempt to show your casual side while trying to show a more personal approach?

GIFs can help you to:

– show your brand’s personality

– divide large chunks of text

– explain a process

– tell a story

What all of these types have in common is the creative way to present content, reaching people who like consuming content in different ways.

For example, if you want to explain a complicated concept, you can use an infographic to make the process easier for your audience. You can still create a blog post, and integrate the infographic with the rest of the written content.

This increases the chances for your audience to stay engaged and enjoy what you have to offer.

Decide on the ideal length for your content

Content marketers often wonder whether long-form content is dead in the era of ‘bite-sized’ content. It may seem logical to assume that readers prefer shorter content, but this isn’t always the case.

According to Orbit Media Studios, blog content is actually getting longer year by year. In 2016 the average blog post length was 1054 words – up from 887 words in 2015.

This means that readers still value long-form content – provided that it’s interesting of course.

Of course, length alone won’t guarantee the success of your content.

However, the length of your content can indicate the depth of the topic you’re covering. If the goal of your copy is to increase awareness, build trust and offer value, then the length may be a key part of your success.

You just need to find a balance between quantity and quality.

Aim for clear structure

Your readers will appreciate a piece of content that is clear and organized. There’s no need to suffocate your writing with big chunks of sentences.

Another point to consider is how people consume content through different devices. Not everyone accesses your content through the same screen, which means that your content has to be optimized for all devices.

This includes its layout. What seems like a small paragraph on a desktop may turn out to be a really big paragraph on a mobile device. And that’s a good reason to test your content on all devices before you publish it.

Moreover, you can organize your thoughts using bullet points, which has the dual benefit of being direct and practical, while also being more clearly readable, helping readers to focus on the most important aspects of your message.

Bullet points can be useful at the end of a piece of text as an overview of what you’ve covered. This is a quick way to allow readers to get back to the things they need to remember from what they’ve just read.

Beware, though – too many bullet points can produce the exact opposite result.

Spend time on formatting your content

How does formatting differ from structure? This has to do more with the way you present your actual content, rather than the way you organize the sentences. However, they are both important in their own way, with the ultimate goal being to convince readers to spend more time on your content.

For example, if you want to make your content more appealing, then you need to add images throughout the text. It’s usually suggested we add the images in a way that they separate the longer paragraphs. If you want to make a point through a series of paragraphs, then break those up with an image that supplements your content, giving the readers’ eyes a break.

When it comes to formatting, one of the most important tips is to pay attention to headings.

Headings allow you to divide your content into logical sections, each one headed up by a catchy title. Spend a decent amount of time thinking up each heading – and don’t be afraid to use plenty of them.

Ranging in terms of importance (and font size), headings span from H1 to H6. You can use a range of different header sizes if you want to label certain sections of your content with subheadings, or you can stick with just a couple throughout.

It’s also useful to keep in mind that headings contribute to SEO and the way search engines discover your content. As crawlers, the magic bots that search for content, access your writing, headings make your content structure easier to parse, and help to highlight the important bits.

Thus, if your headings are relevant and interesting, you’re also going to help your content rank well in search.

Set a goal for your content

Before you dive into content writing, it’s useful to set a goal of what you want to achieve with your content.

There are many ways to use your content. Not every post should serve the same goal and in fact, it’s useful to have a variety of content with different purposes.

For example, your latest post can promote your new product, but it’s probably not a good idea to do that with a series of ten posts in a row.

Readers don’t like overt promotion via content, but you can still create valuable content that happens to also be promotional. Just ensure that your content serves a genuine purpose beyond promoting whatever you want to draw attention to. Ask yourself: What would I, as the reader, be able to learn from this?

While setting a goal for your content, make sure you’re not turning your content into an automatic machine of business jargon. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking of the outcome more than the actual process before it. If you’re only thinking of the goal and not the copy, then you risk losing your unique brand voice and your readers along with it.

Set a goal, then start writing, leave the goal aside and focus on your content. Once your post is published and you’re tracking metrics, you can return to the initial goal and see whether you’ve come close to achieving it.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2 of this post, where we’ll look at seven more tips that can improve your content marketing.

source https://searchenginewatch.com/2017/08/01/8-tips-for-improving-your-content-creation/ from Rising Phoenix SEO http://risingphoenixseo.blogspot.com/2017/08/8-tips-for-improving-your-content.html

[sheilalmartinia]

8 tips for improving your content creation

The rise of content marketing has brought content creation to the forefront for all businesses. This makes it more important than ever to explore the best ways to create effective content.

The definition of effective content for every business may be different, but in general, it still has to bring you closer to your goals.

That’s why effective content has to resonate with your target readers.

Earlier this summer, I gave a presentation entitled “15 ways to improve your content writing” at the Summit on Content Marketing. Here are the first eight of those tips.

Set a writing process

A structured writing process can help you save time and become more productive. As there’s an increasing need for content nowadays, it’s important to find the best process that can help you focus on content creation.

For example, it might be helpful to dedicate a set block of time on your calendar for content writing, putting aside all distractions.

If you start to get stuck, it may be a good idea to stay away from the copy for a while and either take a break or have someone else read it for a fresh perspective.

Creative brainstorming

It’s not always easy to come up with a new content idea, and this can sometimes require some creative brainstorming moments with other team members.

Keeping a content calendar or notebook can help you organize all your ideas, ranked from best to worst – any of these can offer a new perspective on your content goals.

If you’re still struggling for content ideas, take a look at our 21 quick ways to find inspiration for creating content to help you with your next great post.

Grab the reader’s attention

Although the widely-reported ‘fact’ that we now have an attention span of 8 seconds has been called into question, internet users are more discerning with their time than ever before. There is a huge abundance of content available online, and your content needs to be able to grab the user’s attention, and hold it, in order to succeed.

In the digital world, there is any number of competing demands on the user’s attention. Our attention shifts from one task to another as we open new tabs or check multiple screens. Why should the user keep reading – or watching, or listening to – your content? You need to hook their attention and keep it there. 

Explore different types of content

One way to convince users to pay more attention to your content marketing is to mix up your formats. The last few years have seen an explosion in the types of content available to create and host online, with each one serving a different purpose.

Images 

Images are the most popular type of visual content. They offer a powerful impact on a message and they certainly create a memorable experience. It is easier for the human brain to actually process an image and this increases the chances for your copy to be remembered.

As 65% of people are visual learners, there is more chance your readers will notice your content if you pair it with the relevant images.

Infographics

Information graphics, or infographics, are graphic visual representations of information, data or knowledge intended to present information quickly and clearly.  The use of graphics enhances our ability to see patterns and trends, which makes complex information more appealing and shareable.

Readers tend to spend more time processing an infographic, compared with a written text, and that’s what makes them engaging, especially when they are added as part of a blog post. They’re also more shareable than other types of content. In fact, infographics are shared and liked three times more than any other visual content.

This makes them a very useful addition to the promotion of your content, and it’s no surprise that marketers are using them more and more in their content marketing strategy.

Video

Video content has taken the lead as the most popular visual type of content over the last two years, a trend which has been boosted by social media. According to Cisco, videos will make up 80% of all internet traffic by 2019. This highlights how video content is going to become even more important. Even if we don’t use it as our primary form of content, it is still a powerful medium to support our message. 

For example, we can use a short video to:

– share tips and “how-to” ideas

– build trust

– increase engagement

– add value

Live video is another emerging trend, and it offers an immediacy that online users seem to enjoy quite a lot. Marketers and business owners have placed video among their top priorities for 2017 in an attempt to create more appealing and effective content.

Remember, it’s not always necessary to hire a video producer to create short and entertaining videos that offer value to your audience.

GIFs

A GIF, which stands for Graphics Interchange Format, is a type of an animated image that was developed more than 30 years ago. It may not be new, but it’s a popular form of media with online users, as a quick way to share visual content that straddles the line between an image and a video.

According to Giphy, there are currently around 150 million original GIFs out there online. They can be more powerful than an image, but they are also smaller in size than a video. Although GIFs are usually funny and informal, they can still fit with your content strategy, provided that you know how to use them in the right context of course.

For example, how about using a GIF to explain a process in a “how-to” post? Or how about using a funny movie quote in an attempt to show your casual side while trying to show a more personal approach?

GIFs can help you to:

– show your brand’s personality

– divide large chunks of text

– explain a process

– tell a story

What all of these types have in common is the creative way to present content, reaching people who like consuming content in different ways.

For example, if you want to explain a complicated concept, you can use an infographic to make the process easier for your audience. You can still create a blog post, and integrate the infographic with the rest of the written content.

This increases the chances for your audience to stay engaged and enjoy what you have to offer.

Decide on the ideal length for your content

Content marketers often wonder whether long-form content is dead in the era of ‘bite-sized’ content. It may seem logical to assume that readers prefer shorter content, but this isn’t always the case.

According to Orbit Media Studios, blog content is actually getting longer year by year. In 2016 the average blog post length was 1054 words – up from 887 words in 2015.

This means that readers still value long-form content – provided that it’s interesting of course.

Of course, length alone won’t guarantee the success of your content.

However, the length of your content can indicate the depth of the topic you’re covering. If the goal of your copy is to increase awareness, build trust and offer value, then the length may be a key part of your success.

You just need to find a balance between quantity and quality.

Aim for clear structure

Your readers will appreciate a piece of content that is clear and organized. There’s no need to suffocate your writing with big chunks of sentences.

Another point to consider is how people consume content through different devices. Not everyone accesses your content through the same screen, which means that your content has to be optimized for all devices.

This includes its layout. What seems like a small paragraph on a desktop may turn out to be a really big paragraph on a mobile device. And that’s a good reason to test your content on all devices before you publish it.

Moreover, you can organize your thoughts using bullet points, which has the dual benefit of being direct and practical, while also being more clearly readable, helping readers to focus on the most important aspects of your message.

Bullet points can be useful at the end of a piece of text as an overview of what you’ve covered. This is a quick way to allow readers to get back to the things they need to remember from what they’ve just read.

Beware, though – too many bullet points can produce the exact opposite result.

Spend time on formatting your content

How does formatting differ from structure? This has to do more with the way you present your actual content, rather than the way you organize the sentences. However, they are both important in their own way, with the ultimate goal being to convince readers to spend more time on your content.

For example, if you want to make your content more appealing, then you need to add images throughout the text. It’s usually suggested we add the images in a way that they separate the longer paragraphs. If you want to make a point through a series of paragraphs, then break those up with an image that supplements your content, giving the readers’ eyes a break.

When it comes to formatting, one of the most important tips is to pay attention to headings.

Headings allow you to divide your content into logical sections, each one headed up by a catchy title. Spend a decent amount of time thinking up each heading – and don’t be afraid to use plenty of them.

Ranging in terms of importance (and font size), headings span from H1 to H6. You can use a range of different header sizes if you want to label certain sections of your content with subheadings, or you can stick with just a couple throughout.

It’s also useful to keep in mind that headings contribute to SEO and the way search engines discover your content. As crawlers, the magic bots that search for content, access your writing, headings make your content structure easier to parse, and help to highlight the important bits.

Thus, if your headings are relevant and interesting, you’re also going to help your content rank well in search.

Set a goal for your content

Before you dive into content writing, it’s useful to set a goal of what you want to achieve with your content.

There are many ways to use your content. Not every post should serve the same goal and in fact, it’s useful to have a variety of content with different purposes.

For example, your latest post can promote your new product, but it’s probably not a good idea to do that with a series of ten posts in a row.

Readers don’t like overt promotion via content, but you can still create valuable content that happens to also be promotional. Just ensure that your content serves a genuine purpose beyond promoting whatever you want to draw attention to. Ask yourself: What would I, as the reader, be able to learn from this?

While setting a goal for your content, make sure you’re not turning your content into an automatic machine of business jargon. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking of the outcome more than the actual process before it. If you’re only thinking of the goal and not the copy, then you risk losing your unique brand voice and your readers along with it.

Set a goal, then start writing, leave the goal aside and focus on your content. Once your post is published and you’re tracking metrics, you can return to the initial goal and see whether you’ve come close to achieving it.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2 of this post, where we’ll look at seven more tips that can improve your content marketing.

from Search Engine Watch https://searchenginewatch.com/2017/08/01/8-tips-for-improving-your-content-creation/

[houstonlocalus-blog]

Hidden Knives: The Best of The Week

AFI. Photo: Velvet Hammer

  Well, we survived Super Bowl impeding our lives last week, but that doesn’t mean that things are slowing down. This week you’ll have to decide between appearances from The Coathangers, Dashboard Confessional, AFI, and Milemarker while local bands fill in the gaps. Houston, here’s how to navigate the next seven days.

  On Wednesday you can begin at White Oak Music Hall upstairs when the bedroom electro pop of Chad Valley returns to town.  Riding high off of the success of his single “Now That I’m Real (How Does It Feel?),” Valley returns with 2015’s Entirely New Blue to keep things poppy.  Brooklyn’s Computer Magic will bring her pop heavy electronica to life as direct support while Houston’s Children of Pop will fit right in as openers for the all ages show with doors at 7 pm and tickets between $12 and $16.

  MyDolls. Photo: Uncredited/Courtesy of Artist

  Over at Satellite Bar  you could choose to get sweaty with the legendary punk of Houston’s MyDolls.  This show, serving as their new album release party is just another great reason to check this energetic band out sooner than later.  Direct support will be provided by San Antonio’s Fea.  While they’re intense, their live show is fun, and last year’s Fea was impressive; they’re here enough to start getting their mail here.  The crazed energy of Houston’s Only Beast will open the all ages show with doors at 8 pm and tickets between $10 and $12.

  The Secret Group will have a different show of sorts when Emily Snow and Skabz the Clown host the Fixation Super Secret Fetish Party.  Boylesque, burlesque, BDSM and fetish performances will be on hand alongside performance art and more.  The 21 & up show has doors at 8 pm and it’s 100% FREE with more information here.

  Downstairs at White Oak Music Hall, the all female garage punk of LA’s The Coathangers will swing by to perform. While the show was originally set to take place at Raven Tower, that doesn’t mean that it won’t be worth making it out for.  The group almost always throws a killer show while here and their last album Nosebleed Weekend from last year was an album everyone should grab a copy of. The indie rock of Houston’s The Cleen Teens will be on as direct support and openers for the all ages show with doors at 8 pm and tickets between $12 and $16.

  Bear’s Den. Photo: Phil Knott/Stay Loose PR

  Thursday you can get going at House of Blues in the Bronze Peacock Room when the folky sounds of British three piece, Bear’s Den will bring their massively popular sounds to town.  These guys have a slew of hits, they’re rumored to have intimate live shows, and their latest set of singles including last year’s “Berlin” give you an idea of their sound.  Louisiana’s Gill Landry of the group Old Crow Medicine Show will provide direct support as well as open up the all ages show with doors at 6 pm and tickets between $18 and $22.

  If you’d rather get your art on, at  The Secret Group for the Houston premiere of the film “Saving Banksy.”  The film, about misguided people attempting to save a piece of Banksy art on the side of a building is an intriguing look at how some people view street art, or at least the almighty dollar.  There also promises to be an opening DJ set from Damon Allen, and a closing set from Allen & DJ Fredster, as well as an art show and more.  All of the details are here for the all ages event with doors at 6:30 pm and tickets for $10.

  If you’d rather get your laugh on, then you can go to Improv with one of the best joke writers in town at The Couple’s Therapy with Alan Adams show.  Adams is highly regarded as a killer comic by many, and while this show might not help your marriage, it should in the least make you laugh hysterically.  The 18 & up show has doors at 7:15 pm and tickets between $10 and $20.

  D&W Lounge will host the never ending tour dogs, The Living Deads.  This two piece makes rockabilly like there are five people in the band, their live shows are always like a heart attack, and their last album The Living Deads still holds up.  The 18 & up show has doors at 9:30 pm and it’s 100% FREE.

  Delicate Boys. Photo: Uncredited/Courtesy of Artist/Bandcamp

  If you want to catch a pretty impressive band, you could swing by Continental Club to see Austin’s Delicate Boys.  This four piece plays some solid indie garage rock that’s all over last year’s The Delicate Demo, and it should sound pretty stellar in a live setting.  Houston’s Redpalms, formerly A Tribute To The Sun will open the 21 & up show with doors at 9:30 pm and a TBA cover.

  Friday you could begin at The Secret Group for the pop punk of Houston’s Waterparks.  I would think you’d have known about the Houston trio that’s had plenty of success, but if not then you should check them out.  Their live shows are fun and energetic, and their new album Double Dare from last year is really solid.  Kentucky’s Too Close To Touch will be on as direct support while Chapel will open the all ages show with doors at 6 pm and tickets between $12 and $15.

  Mantra Love. Photo: Courtesy of Artist/Jean Valez

  Over at Nightingale Room you can get groovy when Houston’s Mantra Love will headline a set.  The three piece psych band has been making all sorts of moves including recording a new album.  While their shows are always fun and maybe you’ll hear some new tunes, their debut EP Mantra Love should pacify you until they have a new record out.  The proggy psych sounds of Austin’s The Halfways will open the 100% FREE 21 & up show with doors at 7 pm.

  I don’t know who Katt Williams will get into an altercation with, but given his past history it could totally happen before or after his set at Toyota Center.  The embattled comedian, minus all of the drama, has always been one of the funniest guys you can catch; and his albums including 2015’s Priceless are all pretty great.  The all ages show has doors at 7 pm and tickets between $52 and $175.

  Jones Hall will have a pretty cool event when the Houston Symphony performs the John Williams score to “E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial” while the film plays in sync.  Whether you’re a fa of the score or the film, this one night event should be worth making it out for.  The all ages evening gets going around 7:30 pm with tickets between $39 and $110.

  The Wiggins. Photo: Teresa Vicinanza

  Walter’s will host the return of Chapel Hill’s Milemarker.  It’s been over ten years since this band did anything, but that being said, they definitely left their mark when they were around.  Their 2002 album Frigid Forms Sell and their 1999 album Future Isms were both pretty amazing, and their live shows were always on point.  Houston’s Narrow Head will provide direct support while the always intriguing one man sounds of The Wiggins will open the all ages show with doors at 8 pm and tickets for $12.

  Satellite Bar will have the Americana folk sounds of Minnesota’s David Dondero.  Dondero has a soft and road weary sound that’s been hailed by critics everywhere, and his new album Inside The Cat’s Eye from this year is worth checking out.  There’s no word of openers or support for the all ages show with doors at 8 pm and tickets for $10.

  In the Foundation Room at House of Blues, you can get down with Austin rockers A. Sinclair.  There’s something engaging about their mix of throwback and indie rock that’s all over last year’s Get Out of the City, and they bring it when they play live.  The alt garage sounds of NOLA’s Bantam Foxes will open the all ages show with doors at 8 pm for the 100% FREE show.

  On Saturday things get get real over at Black Hole Coffee for the Write 4 UR Rights letter writing event.  On hand people will help show you how to best reach those in power and tell them how you feel about the state of our federal, state, and local governments.  Granted, this will mean you’ll have to hop off your couch and actually do something rather than post ideals on Facebook to a group of people who think just like you; but that’s the point here.  The all ages event runs from 11 am to 2 pm and it’s 100% FREE.

  Scout Bar will host the Bloodfest II featuring a set from Blood of An Outlaw.  The all day event includes sets from Patterns, Skabz the Clown, and many many more.  The all ages show has doors at 2 pm and tickets between $10 and $13.

  Doomstress. Photo: Uncredited/Courtesy of Artist/Facebook

  At Satellite Bar you can make it out for the throwback sounds of Amplified Heat.  The Houston born now Austin transplanted trio makes the kind of blues rock that makes you wonder if young Clapton is playing lead, and their last album On The Hunt still holds up.  The all day show will also feature sets from Crypt Trip, The Dirty Seeds, Jody Seabody & the Whirls, Funeral Horse, Doomstress, and many more with the full lineup here.  There’s FREE BBQ, it’s all ages, and with doors at 3 pm and a $12 cover, you have no reason to not attend.  

  Over at The Secret Group, comic Ku Egenti will host a variety show featuring comedy from himself alongside Roxxy Haze, Tressa Eleby and more.  Music from Nicole Quinn, Lisa Denae, and more including magic and enough entertainment to make you realize it’s not to be missed.  There’s more information here with doors at 6 pm for the all ages show with $20 tickets.

  Walter’s will host a barn burner when the dark metal of Houston’s Peasant takes center stage with a headlining set. Like the music from your nightmares, these guys have an intense live show and their latest release Pain Is Near from last year is pretty crazy.  The punk of Houston’s The Pose will be on beforehand while Trillblazers will bring their trippy sounds on prior.  The all female punk of Fuck With Fire will also be on the bill while the intense hardcore of Lace will be on as well.  The grindcore of Cryptic Void will open the all ages show with doors at 8 pm and tickets for a measly $8.

  Over at Eastdown Warehouse, if they fixed their PA after that incident during the Youth Code set last week, you can make it out for The Smiths VS. The Cure Vol. 6.  The show will feature DJ sets from Damon Allen and Abrahan Garza, a well as art from Browncoat, Julie Zarate, Lizbeth Ortiz, and many more.  There’s more information here with doors at 8 pm for the all ages show with a $20 ticket price.

  Studded Left. Photo: Uncredited/Courtesy of Artist/Facebook

  Civic TV will host a cool show when Studded Left (Formerly Indian Jewelry) will swing by to drop a set.  The always intense and crazed sounds of this Houston treasure can never be diminished as their live shows are on point and their last release Doing Easy was pretty amazing.  The dark punk of Houston’s Rough Sleepers will provide direct support while the electro-acoustic sounds of Oakland’s Gerritt Wittmer will go on prior.  The electrofunk of Erotic Tangerines will also be on the bill and things will get opened up by the Fantasy 1 DJ’s.  The all ages show has doors at 8 pm and a TBA cover.

  Sunday you can swing by Insomnia VGC and check out some anti-Valentine’s Day art at the It’s Not You, It’s Me show.  Over thirty artists will have their anti-Valentine’s themed wares for sale, there’s FREE chocolates, a DJ set from Jay Tovar and more.  The all ages show gets going around 6 pm, the list of artists on hand is here, and it’s 100% FREE.

  Dashboard Confessional. Photo: Live Nation

  Over at House of Blues you can get teary eyed when Dashboard Confessional returns to perform.  While they’re not anywhere near the top of my list of bands to go see, I’ll admit that they put on a good live show.  Their latest release Covered and Taped is pretty decent, and the popular group will more than likely sell this show out.  There’s no word of openers for the all ages show with doors at 6:30 pm and tickets between $27 and $45.

  Upstairs at White Oak Music Hall you can get down with the indie pop of Brooklyn’s Miniature Tigers.  The popular four piece has been making fans for over a decade, and their new album I Dreamt I Was A Cowboy from last year is pretty infectious.  The indie acoustic pop of Houston’s Sam Turner & the Cactus Cats will provide direct support and opening duties for the all ages show with doors at 7 pm and tickets between $15 and $16.50.

  Walter’s will host the hardcore of New Jersey’s Night Birds.  Crazed, fun, and full of energy, these guys bring it when they play live and their latest Who Killed Mike Hunchback from late last year is pretty damn good.  The new wave garage sounds of Austin’s Drakulas will be on as direct support while the pop punk of Houston’s Turnaways will be on prior.  The intense hardcore of Black Coffee will open the all ages show with doors at 7 pm and a $10 cover.

  Zach Dickson. Photo: Uncredited/Courtesy of Artist/Facebook

  All good things must come to an end, and so begins the end of comic Zach Dickson’s time in Houston.  The winner of Laff Town’s Funniest in 2016 will be getting appropriately roasted at The Secret Group, before he leaves for…well, not better shores, but San Antonio.  Possibly one of the funniest guys in town, he’ll get sent off by Bob Biggerstaff, Ashton Womack, Dale Cheesman, Victor Tran and more.  The evening hosted by Zahid Dewji is 100% FREE, it’s all ages, and the doors are at 9 pm.

  On Monday you could head to Walter’s for the metal core of Buffalo’s Every Time I Die.  The five piece lead by two brothers has been going strong since the late nineties, and while they’ve become known for a crazed history on live shows, their latest release Low Teens from last year was a return to form.  The hardcore metal core hybrid sounds of Knocked Loose will provide direct support while the hardcore metal of Chicago’s Harm’s Way will go on prior.  Pittsburgh’s Eternal Sleep will open the all ages show with doors at 6 pm and tickets between $15 and $20.

  Of course, over at White Oak Music Hall downstairs to catch the popular melodic sounds of AFI.  While I’m hoping the Havoc haircuts will have subsided by the time they take the stage, the band has made plenty of fans the world over meaning that you still might see some supporting their new release The Blood Album.  Philadelphia’s Nothing will be on as direct support while the emo of California’s Souvenirs will open the all ages show with doors at 7 pm and tickets between $26 and $28.

  P.O.S. Photo: Uncredited/United Talent Agency

  Tuesday in the studio at Warehouse Live you can get down with P.O.S. from the group Doomtree.  P.O.S. has always been the more enigmatic of the group, he brings it when he performs, and his newest solo release Chill, dummy is pretty on point.  The hip hop of Connecticut’s Ceschi will be on as support while DJ Fundo will open the all ages show with doors at 8 pm and tickets between $10 and $12.

  That’s about it happening around town this week.  No matter what you decide to do or where you decide to go, always drink like an adult and remember that a safe ride home is in everyone’s best interests.

Hidden Knives: The Best of The Week this is a repost