#its the art trade event btw

[necros-writing-stuff]

It's been a really long time since I've been here, life has just been too busy and tiring. I haven't even been able to draw I'm so sorry. Can I ask for two?

PC with a flu or high fever with Eden and Trauma induced Eden insisting on going out to work or sell products to earn money to pay Bailey given that they're already permitted by Eden to go back to town every now and then and that Eden didn't directly buy PC from Bailey. Take your time imma just be here sick in bed.

Hey! So sorry this took so long! I hope you're doing much better now. And don't worry about not having done art! We all work at our own paces, don't push yourself to create when you don't have the will to.

I think I've already covered PC with a sickness, and how Eden is a stern but attentive caretaker. We can see this when there's pass out events at the cabin. They bring you in, put you to bed. After the pred/prey scene they even get you water. So Eden would likely work as normal, but come in to check on you every so often. Get you a drink or a snack. If you're well enough, you can do small indoor chores. If not, sleep as much as is needed.

As for traumatised Eden at the market? Mmmm that good. That's a yummy one. Note: when I say that it's often about horrible things, isn't it? Double note: Lynx would be Axe body spray to the 'Muricans.

Oh - warning for mentions of past non-con btw.

There's too much noise. It burrows into his brain, denying any attempts to drown out the calls of purveyors of goods around him. Calling out their produce, prices, how long they'd be there.

There's a baby crying. Wailing as it's father talks on the phone and half-asses shushing it by waving a toy in its face while he isn't even looking at the babe.

There's so many smells he swears they're causing him a headache. Food. Sweat. Some abhorrent chemical smell as a group of teenage boys pass. He remembers Lynx. Remembers the locker rooms at school.

There's eyes everywhere. Blue, green, brown. He thought he saw red at one point. No- no he definitely did. There's a group of goths wandering around. Probably one of them with contact lenses. Eden could swear he feels at least one pair of eyes on him each and every second.

Scant few customers come to his stall. Its mostly older patrons: elderly craftspeople who still practise their trades as the youth buy from companies; aspiring chefs excited to grill up some real game; this one old man who always shows up for the dried back-strap. Eden doesn't remember his name, but the man swears by the stuff. Says Eden comes with the best stock and those other hunters bring bare scraps. Not a surprise, he's seen the incompetence of others who come through the forest.

He swears he can hear laughter amongst the throngs of people. Swears that it must be directed at him. His ugly face. His huge body. His clothing, old and patched. But he has to stay. Has to do it for you. To keep you safe and out of Bailey's money machine.

He wished you were here. Wished you'd come bounding up to him with that smile of yours and drag him home. But you're also at work, coralling dogs at the pound for spare change to contribute to Eden's payments to Bailey. Apparently the mutts listen now that you smell like him. Funny thing, how he affects animals. Even dumbass chickens hate him. He'd considered getting some once, but they'd get so stressed around him they wouldn't be able to lay any eggs. Oh, and foxes could take them.

Best to stay there, in those inconsequential memories of the past. It's hard to when he sees a face that surges horrid memories to the front instead. The man looked to be about 70 by this point, wobbling around with a cane. He'd already been grey when they'd met.

"Got any boar meat, lad?" He wheezed, bug-like eyes pooring over the table. His voice was weaker than it had been. There's no flicker of recognition in the freaky eyes.

"A few cuts. Belly or back? I've got hooves, too." Eden's voice doesn't break. Doesn't show his rising panic.

A claw-like hand reaches out to where Eden directed his attention. A shiver goes down the hunter's spine. He remembers those hands. How clammy and cold they'd been. How... insistent and encompassing.

"Aye, this one's a good heavy steak. How much?"

Eden's eyes didn't leave the old man's face. "Freshest cut, got the beast last night. £5."

The old man licks his lips as he pries his wallet free, the appendage dried, cracked and pale. Just like the rest of him. He'd had a tan back then. A terrible, fake one. Fucker had been orange.

Teens ran past once more, barely missing the old man as they screamed. The crypt-bound bag of bones scoffed, disgust apparent. But his eyes linger too long on one of the older boys, with longer dark hair and a skinny frame, just about old enough to start drinking Eden thinks.

Attention soon returned to the hunter, the smile back. Oh look, he'd kept half of his teeth. Impressive for someone his age. They were rotted, though. More so than they had been when he'd visited the orphanage. Probably time for dentures. Eden could still remember the smell of his breath.

"£5, a good price for a good steak. My wife will fry this up well." He's laughing. Eden grants him a polite smile as he wraps up the meat and hands it over.

He tracks the old man as he leaves, watching as his thumb strokes over the paper bill in his hand. He doesn't take a deep breath until he knows he's gone. He can't take a deep breath until he knows, for sure, that he's gone.

£2.50 was what he'd payed for Eden back then.

[scrumptowne]

Just a wee bit about me!!

Heads up, I do not tolerate harassment, bullying, or anything of the sort, ever. I only tolerate good vibes and smooth sailing, thanks for understanding!!

● Before anything, I have autism and I'm VERY high energy at all times, if that isnt for you, ay chief, have a good one (ill tone it down just for u if in dms, or ill try)

● i roleplay!! but im spooked off unless its with tupperbox on discord (speaking of discord, friend me, im asi_sus) ((i need more friends that enjoy tf2 AND roleplay))

● DNI PROSHIPPERS, TERFS, MAPS, HOMOPHOBES, TRANSPHOBES, MUSLIMPHOBES, XENOPHOBES, ETC. BE A GOOD PERSON OR DO NOT INTERACT.

● DSMP fans can interact as long as you arent stans, i really dont care about yall and what you enjoy, but dont try to talk to me about it because I'm personally not a fan of dsmp, ty!!

● My uploading is like, stupidly rare idk but i like to draw and do art trades and every year im participating in artfight anddddd yeah idk im just constantly drawing

● HORROR IS MY FAV THING LIKE EVER!! LIKE I LOVE HORROR ITS SO COOL >:]

● tbh i just do what i want when it comes to uploading, i just enjoy my time on here even it im not on here often

● i main pyro and engineer on tf2!! im the ultimate pyrobro and pyroshark, you'll never meet a more efficient pybro

● i like drawing characters and i love drawing humans but my anatomy is hot ass so beware

● im the merasmus and gray mann enjoyer ever

● btw rain world and tf2 enjoyers come my way, yall is my jam

● i love cowboys, a lot, like a lot, i make a lot of western aus for my ocs and i have a few cowboys in my roster of ocs

● im bigender so yaya

● my artfight is https://artfight.net/~Ark-CowTooth-Asi and im actively following people even outside of the event and im always searching for moots

[robiinjason]

Hiii, do you have any recs for Robin Jason comics? I'd love to read more about him but I have no clue where to start. Love your art btw it's all adorable <3

Sure thing!!! And omg thank you 🥺🥺 your art is super cute too!!

If I were to rec One Thing as a starting point for Robin Jason, Batman #408-#429 covers Jason’s main run as Robin and his death arc and is the main essential reading I’d recommend. It’s fairly short and a good place to start imo! 

Among others, it includes his post-crisis origin and first outing as Robin, his first meeting with Dick, the Garzonas incident, and his death and its immediate aftermath in the Death in the Family arc. 

While Jason’s time as Robin in post crisis is fairly short and not as hard to get through as other characters with longer runs, i know Reading Comics Hard so I’ll make a shorter list first, with more recs under the cut!

Batman #408-#409 (Jason's origin)

Batman #410-#411 (his first outing as Robin)

Batman #413 (smart boy Jason)

Batman #415 (more good Jason moments)

Batman #416 (his and Dick's first meeting, also Dick and Bruce argue)

Batman Annual #12 (has a solo Jason story set at his school)

Detective Comics #569-#570 (Jason gets to kick the Joker's butt)

Detective Comics #571 (the Scarecrow kidnaps Jason)

Detective Comics #573 (this one’s just cute)

Superman Annual #11 (Bruce, Jason and Wonder Woman visit Superman on his birthday and stuff happens)

Blue Devil #19 (Jason is pen pals with Kid Devil)

Batman: the Cult (a 4-issue pretty dark miniseries where Bruce is kidnapped and brainwashed by a cult. Some great Jason moments)

Batman #424-#425 (The Garzonas storyline, or when Jason may or may not have pushed somebody off a building. Trigger warnings for sexual assault and suicide)

Batman #426-#429 (A Death in The Family, or Jason’s death arc)

I’ll be referencing this Jason reading list, since it’s what I followed when I started reading. It can be checked for a more comprehensive list of his appearances too, since I’m not aiming for a full list! (though I might edit it to include more stuff eventually.)

First things first, Jason got rebooted once during his time as Robin; he was originally a circus kid like Dick in pre-crisis (before the reboot), and later in post-crisis got his more well-known origin as the orphan who stole the tires off the batmobile. I’ll be focusing on post-crisis Robin Jason since I’m still reading his pre-crisis run, but the list I linked has more info on that if you’re interested!

Batman and Robin-focused 

Stories centered on the Dynamic Duo!

Batman #408-#429 - Jason’s post-crisis run as Robin, as mentioned above! The last four issues are the Death in the Family arc. The Batman: Second Chances trade collects a good chunk of these (#408-#416), plus Batman Annual #11 and a couple stories from before Jason’s post-crisis origin.

Detective Comics #568-#582 - Jason’s Robin run in Detective Comics! It’s a fun read and Alan Davis’ art style is very cute imo. (Jason isn’t around from #575 to #578 due to getting hurt in #573)

Batman Annual #10-#12 - More Batman and Robin stories. #12 has a Jason solo story set at his school! 

Batman: the Cult - a 4-issue miniseries where Bruce is kidnapped and brainwashed by a cult. A pretty dark story and one of the last ones from before his death. Jason has some great moments in it!

Dc Retroactive: Batman - The 80s - Story from 2011 written by Mike Barr, who wrote Jason’s 80s Robin stories in Detective Comics!

Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spetacular - One of the stories, More Time, is about Jason and Bruce and goes between the past (with Jason as Robin) and the present (with Jason as Red Hood). Short and very sweet!

Crossovers/Teamups

In which Jason meets or teams up with other characters, with or without Batman!

Blue Devil #19 - Jason is pen pals with Eddie Bloomberg/Kid Devil and teams up with him! 

Action Comics #556 + #594 - Jason meets Superman!

Superman Annual #11 - For The Man Who Has Everything, or where Jason goes with Bruce to Superman’s birthday, first meets Wonder Woman, and Stuff Happens. (Jason gets to be the hero!) 

New Teen Titans V2 (1984) #18-#31 - Jason joins the Teen Titans for a while! It’s fun to see him in a team and his characterization here is really good imo. (this is the span of issues he appears in but he isn’t in all of them)

Legends (six-part miniseries) - A DC crossover event! Jason has short but great appearances (the time where he breaks his leg, but wants to get up and help anyway).

Nightwing Year One #101-#106 - A rewrite of Dick's Nightwing origin with occasional Jason appearances until #106, which is a retelling of their first meeting where they work together to rescue Alfred. While I have Issues with the characterization of Jason in this, it has some cute moments and I’d be remiss to not include the story that introduces Dick’s nickname of “Little Wing” for Jason.

After his Death

Stuff dealing with the aftermath of Jason’s death and the impact it left on others. (Some of the stuff here is just listed for a single page or panel rather than a full story about Jason)

Batman #430-#432 + #496 - Bruce in the aftermath of Jason’s death. 

Batman Annual #13 - Jason appears in a flashback.

The New Titans #55 - Dick and the Titans find out about Jason’s death, and Dick confronts Bruce about it.

Batman: Year Three + A Lonely Place of Dying - While these focus on Dick and Tim respectively, they’re set after Jason’s death and show how Bruce is dealing with it. Year Three is in Batman #436-#439 and A Lonely Place of Dying (Tim’s origin story) is in Batman #440/New Titans #60/Batman #441/New Titans #61/Batman #442, also included in reprints of Death in the Family.

Detective Comics #618 - Has a nice little moment of Tim looking up to Jason.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #100 - The issue is mainly a Dick origin story, but in the end there’s a sweet and sad story about Jason’s beginning and ending as Robin.

Nightwing Secret Files and Origins - On the first story, Taking Wing, Jason appears to Dick as a dream/hallucination while the latter is having a near-death experience and accompanies him through various of Dick’s memories.

Joker: Last Laugh #6 - The one time when, upon believing Tim was killed and being taunted with Jason’s death, Dick kills the Joker. (the full thing is a six-issue miniseries)

Nightwing (1996) #63 - The aftermath of Dick killing the Joker (though he was revived), but I’m mainly including this for the one panel that shows a picture of Dick and Jason on what seems to be a ski trip.

Batman: Gotham Knights #34 - At the end there’s a story called “The Delusions of Alfred Pennyworth” about Jason’s ghost and Alfred.

Batman: Gotham Knights #43-#45 - Has a flashback to a Barbara and Jason teamup and a recap of Jason’s death as a social worker looks into it and investigates Bruce’s family.

Detective Comics #790 - Bruce talks to Cass about Jason on the day of Jason’s birthday.

Robin V4 #85 - The story itself is about the Joker reflecting on the Robins and Jason only appears briefly, but I think it’s worthwile to include as it’s one of the few times where the involvement of Jason’s mother in his death is acknowledged after Death in the Family. (Also there’s a panel where Jason kicks the joker on the crotch)

Green Arrow V3 (2001) #7 - The one panel where Jason is shown swinging around in heaven :)

Alternate Universes/Other Media

Some stuff that doesn’t fit anywhere else/isn’t quite comics/isn’t really canon, but I think is neat and wanted to include!

Letters - letters from readers sent during when Jason was Robin and after his death. They can be interesting to look through to get a sense of how he was seen by readers at the time (there’s even an eulogy by a clergyman!). The ones I’ve seen can be found in this tag, and this post links to a few too (as well as some other info regarding Jason and the vote that led to his death).

The Batman Files - A book that contains several files over various topics and characters across Batman’s history. Among other things, it has Jason’s death certificate. (mainly including this because early on I spent a while trying to find out how old he was when he died)

Tiny Titans #23, #29, #33, #39, #45, #47 - An adorable alternate universe comic in a kid-friendly setting! Jason’s design in it is very cute.

Batman The Brave and the Bold #13 - Jason and Robins from other points in time team up to save Batman!

Teen Titans Go! season 6, episode 17 (Egg Hunt) - He doesn’t actually appear, but Jason is namedropped and said to be Batman’s favorite Robin.

Batman And The New Robin (unmade cartoon) - An unproduced animated TV series from the late 80s that would have starred Bruce as Batman and Jason as Robin! Unfortunately the project was abandoned and the show was never made, but the full series bible is available to read in its entirety and a link to it can be found here! There’s a page on it on the Lost Media Wiki as well.

[girinma]

ok its finally time to finish this post. my review of every charleston tourist attraction i’ve been to. and warning obv this is going to mention slavery because its the reason for the city.

The Hunley - pretty good but with a hint of pro-confederacy. which is wild because the sub was clearly a union traitor. it killed more confederates than union soldiers. the conservation part is wild with how clean and new they can get things. i like that you can get hit by a train trying to get to the little museum. very neat and id recommend looking at it.

City Market - neat and you should look at it but like it’s not an activity. you just buy tourist things there. 

Fort Sumter - overpriceeeeed. i get that its falling into the sea but like guys. i don’t think we can save it. i like that the national park service openly takes the union’s side but its just not that impressive. they never rebuilt the fort after the civil war so it sucks compared to other forts from the period. like ive been to fort mchenry. also you can walk to it from fort johnson but they dont let you on the fort unless you pay for the boat ride. i hate it.

Fort Moultrie - another fort but this is where the story leading to the SC flag took place. i like that they set it up to look like a bunch of different time periods. interesting history but i didnt pay attention a ton because i got a sunburn :(

Old Slave Mart Museum - give them more funding and this could be incredibly valuable. they only have a sliver of the property (just the auction area) so it’s small, but there is only a little bit of wall paragraphs from the late 00′s. The docents were fantastic but they are carrying the place. very interesting because it focused on the domestic slave trade (due to the time it was open) which is in general not spoken about due to the rape and human breeding. it’s worth going to but i can also imagine an even better museum if they were given more resources.

The Pink House - it’s next to the slave market so you see it but its just a house... i get that its the oldest but it looks like all the other ones.... its pink.

Gibbes Museum of Art - it’s art museum. i think its a decent collection and i like their modern pieces. art museums are good. idk what else to say about it.

Magnolia Plantation - expensive... i haven’t done any of their tour things because they cost extra and sell out early. it’s a decent garden but i’m spoiled and have been to longwood... it’s no longwood. DO NOT try and go to the native american mound it is not labelled you will walk into the woods and have to guess what it is. there’s lots of gators tho which is fun. imo not worth the money.

Boone Hall Plantation - the farm events are really cute and fun but seasonal so im going to focus on the plantation side. i have. so much to say. much less than magnolia plantation, as everything is included with entry. this is where most of the bricks in charleston came from and thus still has a row of brick buildings which the slaves with a trade or working in the house were allowed to live. boone hall is wild because they will mention a fucked up detail and go past it without any discussion. the brick houses were inhabited by descendants until the 1950s. like the plantation was sold in the 30s and theyre like oh btw it comes with sharecroppers :) they live in the front yard of the property. there also used to be 3x as many brick houses until a hurricane in the 80′s destroyed them. the house is boring because its from the 30s but also the tour feels very much like it’s still in the plantation wedding/southern charm :))) whitewashing vibe. i think this is where the reynolds/lively wedding was? the place is sugarcoated but the physical space and the story you can put together is worth the cost of admission. if you having a wedding here youre evil though like there’s no way around it.

Charleston Tea Garden - they grow tea here and i think its tasty. not much to do, they have a tour around the farm and you can see where they process the leaves. 

Angel Oak Tree - i KNOW its a super old tree but i do not care. its just a live oak theyre everywhere. everyone shut up about it. its free at least.

South Carolina Aquarium - it’s a very good local aquarium and i recommend, but it’s no atlanta or baltimore aquarium. they have the tallest tank in the US but i dont think the viewing windows properly showcase it. good collection that’s atlantic focused and a modern design with good flow-through. the sea turtle hospital is also really nice.

Lighthouse Inlet Heritage Preserve - fun little walk to see the lighthouse slowly succumbing to the sea. there’s centralia vibes with the asphalt grafitti which is fun to walk through. there’s no parking though so you probs cant go during tourist season.

Cat Cafe - 10/10 No Notes. actually i do have notes i dont understand why they have a whole bar in the back when you dont use it because youre in the cat room. events i guess? idk i feel like if they had a side entrance you could have the bar run as a bar in the evenings and just lock the cat room so people don’t bug them when they’re not working.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

tl;dr political rant post:

it had been my goal from 12 years old to do an arts degree in philosophy (yes what a nerd- thanks to my dad playing a Great Courses philosophy dvd one morning in 2007 and my dad always taking me to the botanic gardens/the uni some weekends).

i graduated from my arts degree in 2018, with a major in english and a minor in philosophy. i was so, so lucky to even get into my communications & media degree (at first i was originally going to do marketing communications, advertising & PR)... but i realised that i was not made for business subjects- despite my mark101 tutor telling me she thought i had knack for marketing- something under this policy that i wouldn’t undertake due to the price hike for commerce/business degrees. nor was i made for a media degree. so i changed to arts & humanities.

although under this atrocious policy, english subjects are made “cheaper”- why on fucking should the rest of someone’s arts/humanities degree be so much more expensive, all depending on the fields they choose???? so you’re telling me, if i was instead to enter undergrad this year to do my english degree... that my english major would be subsidised, but my philosophy minor would be at double the cost (along with the few first year business and communications&media subjects i did), unless i forced myself to pick maths or science subjects that i would most definitely fail, no matter how much work i’d put into them??? or there’s languages- but much like maths/science- there’s the problem with my handwriting that stopped me trying french and even japanese (ironically, since it’s know for its ~painstakingly neat and orderly~ script- but my handwriting is still messy, disorderly and confusing asf).

*please note that most of this next section is just me being highly spurious and cynical. it’d probably work out fine*

but you’re also telling me that under this policy that i’d also probably have to forego my reasonable adjustments in those subjects (yes i still have trouble with my handwriting to this day) mostly because a lot of software still won’t let you write out maths problems properly or i’d have to spend twice as long trying to get a graph to work in excel or idek matlab (please teach me maths nerds)???? and most maths working out is probably better handwritten or whatever??? and that’s besides the point that i still can’t use excel at all 😂.

so with these classes then, would i be battling from day one of first year with professors to let me use a computer during exam periods (unless of course they use online/take home exam methods like philosophy)???? probably (im being very suspicious here because i don’t know how science/maths etc faculties work).

although i did get this once with one particular english professor; who used the excuse that he didn’t know how to set a computer up for exams because he had been on “sabatical for 4 years” or whatever and so “didn’t know the policies anymore”.... so then according to him it was apparently “the students job to do it.... especially since you’re in third year, miss williams”..... however, i was promptly then told by EVERY uni offical that i approached for help to do it for me.... and my other professors across my course that had done it for me, that it was in fact the PROFESSORS job/responsibility to set it up, and not the student’s??? like. help your students fuckwit professor grant??? honestly. anyway. aside from my personal struggles in the english department: let’s proceed. (this was a real incident btw).

would i be at a significant disadvantage to other students by not being able to use a computer during maths exams or science exams because of the drawing of diagrams and graphs and “showing your working”???? hell yes. would i want the professors in that department to probably condescendingly telling me all the time to “present my work neater and more precisely”? FUCK NO. it’s exactly why i avoided every maths and science subject in undergrad- even including the astronomy subject that i wanted to do- because it also meant that fellow students had to read my handwriting for practicals etc as well, that i wasn’t entirely keen on either. but i did not need the harsh reminders of “be more precise and infallible in your work presentation” that i’d had at school constantly for 11 years of maths lessons; affecting my mental health and performance in a subject during a uni semester.

moreover, that’s besides the fact that i’d flat out fail the “year 12 band 4 maths” requirements- unless they want to waive those- for first year maths/science subjects (at least basing it on my local uni).... considering that i actually skipped out on maths completely in year 12 by doing a TVET/tafe/technical college course in live theatre, production and events (which no surprises here, actually included maths anyway 😅).

because, fuck. is ANYONE seeing a trend in my study choices here? hell, i almost did a commerce/business dual degree with a tafe diploma in event management for crying out fucking loud. and you’re telling me that’s also doubled in price?? it’s obvious that i was interested in the arts & humanities and business subjects from the get-go. but under this policy- i’d be charged double for having my interest in event management, instead of say, biology (which is a subject that if it weren’t for mark scaling in my final hsc exam- i would have failed completely)??? utterly ridiculous.

i even contemplated doing a double degree with law at one point (or doing a legal studies major/minor- which is now a course at my local uni, but was not while i was there). however, law course fees have also doubled under this new policy. leaving that out of reach for me, despite that a double degree with law was out of reach for me anyway..... since my mark average was 65% and not at least 75% lol. but as if those marks averages will actually matter under this new policy.

under this bullshit policy, i’d be forced to take science/maths or even teaching (another field i had to avoid, since people can’t read my writing on a whiteboard from a distance half the time either.... besides the fact that i’m not really the ~teacher type~) subjects- all so that my degree price overall will be ”reduced”..... meaning that i would have to trade out my philosophy minor for something in maths/teaching/science (or maybe creative arts- since those fees stayed the same roughly)... instead of sticking to what i was good at: philosophy and other humanities/social science fields like sociology and history????

i understand that many people will snub me with saying “oh why did you even BOTHER going to uni if you were THAT indecisive about what you wanted to do?” which is something i’ve seen many older people saying on posts about this policy. but hell, i was 19 FUCKING YEARS OLD WHEN I STARTED UNI, FOR GODS SAKE. OF COURSE I WAS GOING TO BE FUCKING INDECISIVE ABOUT MY DIRECTION IN LIFE! because, newsflash fuckwits: not everyone has a defined career goal at 19. hell, i still don’t have one at almost 25..... since i’ll admit here, that i flunked out of my postgrad library course.... because i realised that i simply couldn’t cope with learning simple HTML, CSS and javascript coding for website design & user experience design 😂 (again help me computer wiz friends). yes, believe it or not, librarians have to know that today. and most people think that it’s just all about books (okay that was me, but i was wrong). also, if you’re wondering: postgrad library courses aren’t affected, thank god. but my point is, aren’t we meant to fuck up and pick the wrong things in life sometimes??? aren’t we meant to be indecisive about our choices in our late teens up until our mid 20s???

but now you’re telling students that their very first year of uni is practically set out for them, even for arts/humanities degrees (im not counting properly prescribed degrees such as engineering/science/communications & media (they had prescribed majors and prescribed first year subjects, which is why i left it. because i felt trapped in the prescribed marketing et al major etc); all because the government is telling them that “oh to make your first year cheaper: (A.) get good marks.... so that we don’t cancel your HECS place and (B.) pick subjects outside of the arts/humanities like science/maths/tech related subjects so that you don’t pay a whopping $14,500 for your first year of uni and will be more likely to be “job ready”. whatever the actual fuck “job ready” really means. and this all as if there ISN’T enough pressure for a 18/19 year old to succeed in their first year of uni already.

although, the one thing i’ll say is that my one year advanced diploma in marketing that i did in 2014, was $16,500. i still haven’t made any moves to pay it off. but it was constantly in the back of my mind during uni, both undergrad and postgrad. it was there as a reminder to pick cheaper subjects, so as to not greatly increase my combined hecs debt and vet-fee help debt; which is now sitting at $42,500. which under this new policy is the new price of ONE arts & humanities undergrad degree. i’d hate to be going into uni next year at 19 years old (or any age really) with that price tag on my degree.

anyway. that’s the end of my non-sensical rant. morrison and the rest of the libs etc can go fuck themselves.

[secret-engima]

So the Demons Verse is inhabited by fantastical races, yes? Not, I assume, JUST humans and daemons? What other races are there, and does each kingdom have it’s own main race? ie. demons for the Night Kingdom, humans for Lucis, such and such. (Maybe merpeople for Altissia, can we please have merfolk in Altissia??) And how do these other kingdoms react to the new Accursed?

Yes actually! Lucis is actually the most mixed kingdom for Historical Reasons my brain is too tired to make up on the spot rn. The original population was primarily Human, but that was back in like- Somnus’s time. By now everyone in Lucis is so used to seeing Elves, Dwarves, Fairies, hybrids, and the occasional Mer that no one bats an eye. That said, the other kingdoms are more heavily biased toward one fantasy race or other, even if the other races are scattered throughout.

Yes, Accordo is a kingdom of Mer. Altissia, the capital, is their only above-water city, meant to facilitate trade and communications. The canals are their primary roads but there are all sorts of waterpark style lanes and pools and things on the level of the stone streets so people can chat and be eye level.

Tenebrae is a kingdom of Fairies, deceptively delicate looking beings who are about the height of a human (not teeny thank you) and with razor sharp teeth. The Oracle is a Fairy Queen btw.

Niflheim is an Elven run kingdom, because I said so and because having humans be the evil empire dudes is boring. Of course, because of all the territory they’ve conquered, there are a LOT of other members from different races in there (barring merfolk, because the Niflheim continent is traditionally Desert and that was before they managed to tick off the Glacian and get cursed to nigh-on eternal winter).

Then of course, because fantasy world, there are other kingdoms that weren’t there in canon. Galahd is it’s own kingdom for one (inhabited by humans who hoard the magic art of skin-changing to themselves) that is a long-standing ally with Lucis, if an aloof one. There’s also a teeny kingdom up around the Rock of Ravatogh primarily inhabited by dwarves. Supposedly because they’re too stubborn to leave despite the semi-active volcano right outside their capital but mostly it’s because nobody ELSE wants to come near the semi-active volcano and they like their privacy and the lack of invasion risk this gives them.

Up in Niflheim, mostly by the shores or way up in the mountains, there are still human-run kingdoms btw. Niflheim leaves those scattered kingdoms alone (for now) because frankly all of those humans stubborn enough to live in first a desert and then a SNOW covered desert (and/or near the choppy waters of the ocean) is a bit too stubborn to be worth crushing (yet). Nobody is entirely expecting the uneasy non-aggression treaty to last up there, since the new and young (by elf standards) Emperor Aldercapt is not the relatively reasonable type his father was.

Also there’s a kingdom of humans who claim to be Solheim survivors by the way. Not sure where, probably way up past Vesperpool where you can’t get to in FFXV.

Nobody likes to talk about them.

They’re arrogant and nuts and only leave everyone else alone because the Night King’s kingdom would be right on their doorstep if they caused any trouble.

Speaking of, Insomnia’s kingdom isn’t just the city, it’s the entire island on which the city is founded and also a little bit of the mainland besides.

Anyway, on your other question: FICLET TIME. 

Word of the new Accursed spreads ... slowly. Most don’t believe it, only notice something is up because the daemon attacks have stopped (daemons can travel through shadows all around the world barring warded areas like cities and Havens, they just don’t LIKE to, apparently it makes them feel slimy and tired, but the original Accursed made them do it so the attacks were worldwide things). At first they think like Mors did, that something is Up and everyone privately bids a sigh of relief that Lucis is the next door neighbor to the Accursed and not them (Barring Galahd, who is the oceanic next door neighbor, they all begin battening down the proverbial hatches).

Only the Oracle suspects something drastic and unseen has changed, because she ... she FELT something. Unexpectedly in the night, as if the entire world had cried out in surprised relief. She had woken up with a start and all of Tenebrae had woken up with her to gawk as their magically grown, softly glowing trees and flowers all lit up until it was as bright as day and then just as quickly faded back to their normal soft glow. But she has no idea WHAT happened, just that it was after that the daemon attacks stopped.

And then stay stopped.

For a year. And then a year and several months. No sound, no sight, no word, no whispers of black magic trying to build in the dark places to form the cursed Night Clouds that let daemons roam free in the day (note: daemons in this world will not die if subjected to sunlight, but OH BOY will they get sunburn and will get sick from it. Moon, starlight, and greatly diffused sunlight is okay, but cloudless/mostly cloudless days? Not even the Accursed could force them out of their homes then).

And then, just when everyone’s nerves are at their tightest-.

Lucis is overthrown.

Oh, OFFICIALLY it is fine, King Mors still reigns, there weren’t even any casualties, but all the spies and witness reports and shaky letters to family in other kingdoms say the same thing. The Accursed marched on Insomnia with a horde of daemons that were incalculable, Night Clouds rolling out all the way to the capital of Lucis, covering the city sky as if the wards meant to prevent that exact event meant NOTHING. Then, just as quickly, the horde turned and left and the clouds retreated.

They took the Crown Prince of Lucis with them.

Ohhhhh boy the gossip and panic. The disbelief and fear, because what has happened, what has changed to give the Accursed that much power? Surely something MUST have changed or else he would have done that and more long ago. Even the Empire quails from the implications, ceasing its tentative pokes at it’s sister continent for fear of stirring Insomnia.

But four more years go by and the attacks never resume. Hunters and travelers report daemons spotted at night, wandering by doing who knows what, but they ... are non-violent. They do not attack travelers or try to chase down caravans, they just go about their night as if they had never had a bloodthirsty thought in their lives (until someone attacks, and then suddenly the bloodlust is back and the offender is torn to shreds). People learn fast to just leave the daemons alone and be left alone in turn, but it Freaks People Out.

Finally, FINALLY, the tension cannot be born, and Queen Sylva herself leaves to investigate, her husband in place as regent and her daughter safe and sound, a new Oracle in case ... she ... well. Hopefully that won’t happen.

She flies alone, hidden from view with magic, and lands respectfully at the border of the Night Kingdom. Her magic flares, not enough to be anything like an assault, but enough to be noticed. A greeting of sorts. No Oracle has done this since ... centuries at least, more perhaps, but legends speak of this ritual, of a date and time and way for the Oracle to meet with the Accursed and be let free afterward (for amusement, not honor, but everyone knows the Accursed likes “playing by the rules” just to prove that the rules cannot stop him from winning). She hopes the legends are right.

An hour later, her escort arrives. She holds her head high as the daemons lead her into the dark.

The city is not anything like she imagined. It is dark, yes, but not nighttime black. This is the dull light of dusk and twilight, sunlight filtering through the clouds just enough to support the curling greenery reclaiming the ruins of the ancient city, not enough to burn the skin of the inhabitants. Foreign magic weaves through the air and ground, but it does not reek like the black arts Sylva has encountered in the wake of the unseen Accursed. This feels different. Old and wild and ... calm. Dangerous, incredibly so, but passive. A predator watching her pass by, too relaxed to bother tearing her apart.

More than the magic, the city is ... ALIVE. Daemons flit to and fro, not screaming and bloodthirsty like she has always seen, but calm. They chatter and warble in a tongue she doesn’t know, haggling in marketplaces and gossiping as she and her escort pass by. A few small ones that could only be called children scamper by, pausing to blink at her in awe and Sylva feels just as surprised. She didn’t know ... she didn’t know daemons even HAD children. No one did. Most assumed the Accursed just ... created them when he needed more using his black magic.

Then she sees the human and the world stops. She jerks to a halt without thinking and her escort stop with her, growling angrily at her pause but she does not care. Her wings flick out from her back in an expression of shock before settling.

The human looks just as surprised. He gapes at her, clean and well dressed and healthy, if pale from such low light. Then, to her increasing shock, he bows and falls in step with the escort, bossily pushing a daemon out of step to take its place with a low, inhuman chatter noise that sounds like a coarse imitation of the daemon’s tongue. He tentatively smiles at her after taking his spot in the escort and she cannot think of how to react. Especially when she spots MORE humans lurking in the streets alongside the daemons, talking and haggling and pausing to stare at her.

What are ... what are humans doing here? The Accursed hated all the races, but the fairies and the humans were easily the ones he hated most. How had they survived?

She does not get a chance to ask, because by now they are approaching what must be the Accursed’s home, a towering building untouched by the ruin of the others. She is led inside and straight to a throne room that fits all her expectations (dark, ominous, with furs and trophy racks lining the walls, lit with will o’wisps) save for the inhabitants. Especially its king.

The Accursed is nothing like she expected. He is human. Physically he looks only about ... oh perhaps his late twenties or thirties, only a little older than her little Luna, who is only just now learning the rites and spells of Oracle magic. His hair is black and neatly kept, his clothes are fine, if a bit worn, and his skin is pale, but not unhealthily so. More strangely, she sees none of the signs of black magic she knew she should have been. His skin is not bloodless white, there are no patches of thick black stones from where the evil magic has managed to break free of his body and crystalize and a hundred other symptoms that are all ... not there. She thinks it’s an illusion until he straightens up on his throne and meets her eyes. They are blue, blue and clear as a summer sky. There is no hint of acidic yellow, no smoky swirls of black-grey where whites should be, no slitted pupils. His eyes ... are normal.

No black mage, no matter how skilled or old or cursed, could cast an illusion on their eyes. That was the price for using that magic. That was an unbreakable rule of magic itself. Magic had its colors, and those colors effected the eyes of the wielder and those effects could NOT be hidden (especially not while using spells, but even just passively. It was why Lucis Caelums always had blue eyes, and Oracles always had white-blue).

She stops, barely notices the daemon guards calmly filing out, as if she was not even a threat to be watched anymore, and tries to understand what she is seeing.

There is movement at the Night King’s side and she is startled to see Prince Regis, King Mors’ missing son, the one captured and dragged away as the price for Lucis’s continued existence. He is not a tormented, enslaved wreck she would have expected, he is dressed well, his face is unmarred by pain, his eyes, too, are clear of any curse or enthrallment as he bends down to whisper something in the Night King’s ear, almost like an ... advisor of some kind?

She reaches out with her magic, just a tiny tendril, out of sheer disbelief, looking for the spell that must be placed on the human prince no matter what her eyes are telling her. Before the magic can reach the prince, the Accursed’s gaze sharpens and his own magic snaps out. But instead of the biting pain of black magic meeting white and both burning the other in a flare of agony, her magic is given the equivalent of a light, scolding rap on the knuckles. A teacher warning a child to mind their manners and Not Touch and her wings flick as she tastes the unmistakable ozone-rainy texture of crystal magic on her tongue. Old and deep and far more powerful than she’s ever known it, not since the original rites and spells for it were lost, more powerful than any in written history even, but unmistakable.

The man on the throne is a Lucis Caelum.

“You have journeyed far,” says the Night King, the impossibility, on his throne as his magic settles down again, his lips twitching in a gentle sort of amusement she cannot comprehend, “to grace us with your presence, Queen Oracle. You come alone, as well. Are you not afraid?”

“Have I need to be?” She asks cautiously in return, “Has the hospitality of the Night King on this honored day and night, upheld since the times of the Fall, been rescinded?”

It is not her Oracle senses, or even her Queen sensibilities that spot the flicker of surprise and lost confusion on the man’s face, but those of a mother who is used to seeing her children pretend to be wiser and more mature than they are to impress her, only to stumble when they encounter something unknown. Another whisper from Prince Regis and the expression clears and his eyes light with understanding that is so innocent and fascinated that she cannot stop or shake the new, terrifying and fascinating, realization from her bones.

“It has not,” says the Night King smoothly, “yet I must ask, for what reason do you come?”

“I come,” she says slowly, “to greet the newly crowned Night King, and, if it pleases His Majesty, to receive answers to some questions.”

There is a frozen silence where the humans lurking in the shadows all gape at her. Then-.

Laughter. Soft and short and weary, but honest and not unkind, “I was wondering,” says the man (boy, for although age clings to his bones like a heavy cloak, she does not think he is a man by Immortal standards, not yet, or at least he shouldn’t but is, just like all children forced to grow up too fast) as he stands up and begins limping (limping and what blow could permanently injure an Immortal? Those who survive even burning to ash on the wind? She can think of only one answer, and the surety of her realization grows) down the stairs to meet her on even ground, “if anyone on the outside would figure it out.”

He stops before her, amusement mixed with only a thread of wariness in his eyes, a human too old to be natural, an Immortal too young to be ruling, “What gave me away?”

She stares into his eyes and feels the ancient power of her bloodline, the intuition that marked them as seers, stir. For a moment she tastes memory and pain, a curse willingly taken to spare the lives of others, a price willingly paid as blood weeps free of should-be mortal wounds. For a moment memory not her own whispers poisonously in her ears “The throne sits only one.” and in her blood another voice responds, “Off my chair, Jester, the King sits there.” She pushes it away, those are not her memories to keep or her burdens to bear. Those belong to the young Night King standing before her, looking at her without fear, but instead nostalgic fondness, as if he looks at her and sees the ghost of another at her shoulder (one of her ancestors perhaps, and the thought gives her pause).

“Your eyes,” she settles on finally, “the original Accursed had yellow eyes.” She has never seen him to know of course, but all practitioners of the Black Arts got them before the poisonous magic killed its own wielder, and the Accursed would have been no different despite his stubborn survival in the face of the death curse Black Magic gave all its wielders.

There is a flicker of surprise, then sadness, “Yes,” he agrees with a knowing that comes from experience, “they were.” He blinks as if to banish a memory, then dips his chin in greeting and gestures a hand toward one of the side doors of the Throne Room, “It is far too early for dinner,” he says politely, “but I am certain Ignis would be able to make something light to help you relax from your journey. Will you talk with me over tea?”

Feeling off balance and aware he could tell despite her calm facade, she dips her chin and flicks her wings in a return greeting, one monarch to another, “I would be honored.”

[munchies-for-thought]

The reason your favorite character is flawed and how it changed how I saw my life

Jun 18, 2020

Context: I’m a huge fan of the anime “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure”. (Reading Part 6 pls don’t spoil kthx bai). Don’t worry. You don’t even have to know about anime to get my message. It’s just the example closest to me.

The revelation behind each flaw

Rohan Kishibe is a character that is incredibly talented as a manga artist. He is so obsessed in his craft that he goes to terrifying and ethically questionable extents to get inspiration for his stories. Sometimes a villain, sometimes a hero. His art is everything for him. Well worth risking his or someone else’s life. He is generally a good guy, and wishes good upon the world. He just won’t go out of his way to make it happen. He is also defeated almost immediately after we meet him.

Rohan Kishibe is indeed one of my favorite characters of all times for a multitude of reasons, yet when describing him, he clearly is a flawed character. Yet this is NOT about him. While you read this blog, please think on the coolest fictional character you can think of. Do you have one in mind? Can you answer the following about your favorite character?

Has your favorite character failed?

Has he been hurt badly?

Are some things out of his control?

Do most people in his world generally understand the struggle they go through?

You’ll see when comparing with friends that we mostly agree on these answers even when thinking on different characters. The interesting truth lies in the common factor behind these answers, and learning a bit from the power of good storytelling.

One of the most precious things that I have gained from playing videogames, watching anime and playing Dungeons & Dragons all my life, is the first-hand knowledge of the power of a good story. Although it is in the HOW you make a good story, where I found this revelation that helped me so much.

What I am trying to say might be simple and even obvious when read, but not truly understood. If you bear with me a bit longer, I will attempt not to say, but to explain. I’ll show you the building blocks of how I learned so you truly understand as I did.

Dungeon and Dragons’ Character Backgrounds

The first time I made a new character in Dungeons and Dragons (Drow Elf Bard btw) I was blown away when I found out that whereas you get to pick from options that greatly impact your likelihood of winning, you also had to pick background and personality options that held no significant impact on your success.

You could choose to be a triumphant noble, a devote acolyte, a successful guild merchant or even a lying charlatan. Hell, if you wanted to you could even pick an orphan who had lost it all in the edgiest way known to man!

The book was also quite good at giving you specific quirks that brought that character to life. All of this happened because D&D is focused on group storytelling. Everyone wants your character to be interesting so their adventure gets 10x cooler when their complex characters interact with yours in intriguing and unexpected ways.

For example:

The secret beauty behind flaws

I was just a tad... confused. I had to chose a flaw? Why would I want to do this? All of these options look just like ugly parts of your character’s personality and could easily affect them negatively within the story.

Was this a balancing feature? A rule simply put there to make you less awesome, so no one is too overpowered? I just could NOT wrap my head around it. I couldn’t understand how this could make things fun. They were ruining my character.

It was until I started maturing as an individual and learned more about game design and storytelling that I started to appreciate how genius that was. No one cares for the story of perfect, bland, basic individuals who always succeed and have never made mistakes before. Because that is not real, it doesn’t work for an interesting story if there’s no sadness. If there’s no pain, you can just simply look away.

It was to be expected of the game designers of the best roleplaying game in the world to know that having flaws, failures, challenges, weaknesses, mistakes, all of them are ESSENTIAL for a great story to be told!

Was there a moment in your favorite character’s story where his failures and his pain made you love them on a whole new level? Aren’t those failures what drives your characters to become who they are? Would it be a better story if they had always succeeded?

So who is this Rohan Kishibe and, as an artist, what is his take on good storytelling?

Rohan’s Philosophy

Not only is Rohan a good example of a flawed character, but he also has a very interesting philosophy. He is a famous and wealthy manga artist. You’ve got to understand that, to Rohan, his craft is EVERYTHING. It is the thing he does best and what defines him.

Let me just show you one quote of his, so you understand his artistic philosophy:

“Reality is the energy that breathes life into a piece of work, and reality itself is entertainment. People often think that manga are drawn from imagination and fantasy, but that’s not actually true! For me, drawing something that i’ve experienced, or something that has moved me, is what makes it interesting!”

His pursuit for inspiration is so great, that he constantly goes to insane lengths to gain inspiration. This unrelenting desire is why he was originally a villain. Yet even when the protagonist defeated him, all Rohan could think of was of how this set of unfortunate and unlucky events was within itself a hell of a REAL story to use as inspiration. He saw value even in his misfortune as long as it was honest, untapped, unadulterated and pure reality.  That’s his trade secret as a famous and successful storyteller.

Understanding reality, storytelling and our identity

Warning: We’re about to get metaphysical. You might wanna take that bong hit right now. You’ve been warned.

Talking about reality is like opening Pandora’s box. It is such a massively complex topic that before we can even get to the nitty-gritty of it, let’s just agree on the following for the sake of this conversation:

Depending on how skeptic you are, reality could be mostly subjective or arbitrarily objective. So just follow my lead on this one and match your understanding with mine at least while you read this blog.

NO ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSES OR REALITIES

Fate is merely the belief that there is a predestined way things will happen no matter what. Since its only requirement is also its only consequence, (which is also impossible to prove) then even thinking on fate is pointless or even harmful to an individual as it removes agency from himself and turns him into a bystander in his own life.

Facts are limited to the provable physical world. If you can’t prove it, you don’t KNOW it is real, but you could still believe it to be real.

Our understanding of ourselves, comes partly from how others perceive us and their own subjective view of reality.

As mere humans we don’t completely control reality, but we control how it affects us.

Your own experiences and passions have a gargantuan influence on your interpretation of reality.

Storytelling could be simplified as “the way in which reality is described”.

Changing how you tell a story doesn’t change the facts.

That last one sounds a bit anticlimactic doesn’t it? Specially since we’ve talked so much about storytelling just to find out it can’t change reality. You might even wonder if its uses are only limited to art?

Fret not! This is where it all starts coming together.

My story

Before you disregard storytelling as just an art form, or an overglorified logbook, let’s think outside of the box and take a few leaps with me. Let me show you when was it that it clicked for me:

“Just when the COVID-19 lockdown was about to begin, I was at one of my lowest. I’ve always been someone very adamant on living life as he sees best. Even when friends or family wouldn’t understand my decision, I would still pursue my own path. I was proud of this and felt it made me immune to what other people thought. Yet, years of failed relationships were starting to make me doubt myself.

After an emotional breakdown at Denny’s after being stood-up (Great story for another day) I started worrying that the problem might be me. I’ve always been open to feedback as long as it makes sense to me in a logical way, but I had built so much thought behind who I was, that I didn’t even consider that maybe, I was more flawed than what I had originally assessed.

Maybe if all these bad things kept happening to me, there was a constant behind it all. Judging by the fact that these happened throughout the span of years and with different people, it was only reasonable to assume I was the only constant. Maybe my relationships, both in love and in friendship, were failing not because of individual and complex reasons, but because I was involved in all of them.

Maybe I just won’t build close friends or a family, but I guess I can still find a way to enjoy life. It’s just a lonely life, a very lonely life, but it’s best to face reality head on. That’s what I have always taught myself, right? It would be foolish not to do so when the answer is an inconvenient one. It’s still reality. Better get used to it I guess.”

Wow, that went to a very dark place didn’t it? It’s crazy looking at it in retrospective, but while it happened, it really felt like that was just the facts. I sucked at friends and love. That was just the cold hard reality to me. I mused:

“It’s like if I was a D&D character with low charisma doomed to suck at social encounters... “

and then a sudden realization froze me to the core...

Even if by mere accident, I ended up thinking of myself as a D&D character. Remember all that talk about flawed characters? Well, what if I would see myself as a flawed character? We already agreed that the best characters fail, struggle, suffer, cry, rage, and they make mistakes!

It’s like I had opened a whole new dimension that brought new light into who I was. Those weren’t horrible memories of things that broke me down and I wish no one would ever find out anymore. Those were just wild chapters on the bizarre adventure that is my life. These are badges of honor of what my very own story is!

Storytellers are already influencing your reality

I won’t stand here and tell you that everything bad happens for a good reason. Please be careful not to take the wrong message out of this. That wasn’t what I realized at that moment. I finally was able to see that there were two storytellers that had been affecting me all my life, and I hadn’t really seen their influence before!

Let me unmask these two powerful beings that through their storytelling, had changed my reality.

Powerful Storyteller #1 - Those close to you

Did you notice how the story that I was listening from my friends and love interests was sounding aggressively negative towards my self-value? I thought I didn’t care but I was indeed interpreting my life through their stories.

Since we already understand that we each have our own interpretation of life, good and wrong, then it’s not that hard for us to understand that we will never fully agree on what’s cool. Some of us love things that most people don’t even understand. So when they talk to you, they are inadvertently telling you a story about how you’re weird, instead of fascinating.

If only you could have friends or people who DID understand you, then maybe the stories about you would be seen in a much more positive light. It’s not your friends fault for not understanding, you were just asking something unreasonable from them.

Get yourself surrounded by those who are weird like you. You’ll notice that for the right crowd, you’re just the coolest person just for being who you are. That feeling is just invigorating in every sense.

Powerful Storyteller #2 - Yourself

Back in my story, you can see how I took a lot of my own “interpretations” as “facts” or even “reality” when I told myself my own story. You could have just as well told my same story but in a different way with a much more positive light:

“My relationships did fail, but that doesn’t necessarily reflect on my self-worth. I can continuously fail but love the fact that I’m the type of character that is still hopeful and positive even after repeatedly failing and suffering pain each time.”

It’s important you understand what makes you cool as a character. Because it is your job to tell yourself the story of who you are, what you’ve done, and who you will be. You have already been doing so for as long as you can remember, so you don’t even notice it anymore. You are STILL, to this day, re-telling yourself your story and changing how you feel about some parts of it.

What can we do about it?

So if you already are in charge of such a crucial and delicate task, why don’t you apply what we’ve learned so far? Can’t you see how you as the audience (from your own storytelling) would feel when seeing your main character in emotional pain? Don’t you feel empathy and love towards it because of all it has struggled?

You have the power to choose whether or not you will tell your story as the sad log of things you suck at, or as the crazy adventures of someone who’s just trying to do their best. Someone who is AWESOME because you do understand why he gets so excited when talking about that thing, and why he is so disappointed that that other thing didn’t work out again.

Those dark painful memories are beautiful crystallizations of true art! You already have what Rohan Kishibe is willing to kill to get. You already have an amazing REAL story, you now just have to use your storytelling skills to make yourself some justice, and talk about yourself like the amazing character you are when you tell that story to yourself next time you go to sleep.

At least when it comes to my story, well, the only reason why I would ever even think of writing a blog this long, is because I’ve changed the way I tell my story. I firmly believe that most people will never even have the opportunity to read this, but I have also seen value in these thoughts even if there’s no one besides myself who will listen to my story. If anything, at least I hope my story helps you love your character a bit more, just how I have learned to truly appreciate mine.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for listening to my story. I would always love to hear yours.

[sociallyintroverteddumbass]

The Toxic people in the HH Fandom

Now this is something I wanted to talk about.

I have been in this community for some time now and it has been the most eventful, yet exciting time of my years. Seeing a large group of fans support a passion project / show made by talented and independent people is pretty damn great and I love it. But, there have been some situations that had reeked some havoc here and I think it’s time we talked about some of them. 

Unfortunately, I could not fit everything I wanted to talk about in this post since it’s a bit overdue , I will be discussing 5 types of toxic people and some situations that had happened in the HH community. 

Note: Most of the stories I’m going to talk about were either made public or had been told by my friends or people who have experienced these situations. 

I will not reveal the names of the toxic individuals or their social media names as I don’t want anyone to witch-hunting any of these people. As much as I hate these types of people, it would be inhumane to go and attack them. In this community, we are trying to bring positivity to the fandom and not attract any drama here. Despite this, I will offer the details of what these individuals have done that should have some light dazzled to help and inform of these disgusting  crimes in the community. Also if you go out of your way to harass any of these people I will beat you up and eat your fingers. You know better then to do that.

1. Harassment

Harassment is no uncommon thing. It can happen to everyone, but that doesn’t mean it’s ok. If you are being harassed or spammed by someone, BLOCK THEM. It is never ok for you to stay silent, especially when that harassment is continuous. If you disagree with someone about something, do not go spamming them in their dms or comments, cause’ that just make you look stupid and immature af. 

Allow me to explain. Role-Play / Role-Players are seemingly the most common in the HH Fandom and often answer questions from others to the the character they are rp-ing as or their ocs. But sometimes they are going to get weird fucking questions.

For example, my good friend @carol1826​ is a roleplayer. She roleplays Charlie and asks / answers ask from others (HH related or not). One day, she had a very annoying anon asking her the question “Are you single?” on her posts and ask box. Of course, she was uncomfortable about that question and deleted those until the anon finally said:

“Dumb bitch deleting questions I was only asking a question...”  

“I bet the real Charlie would answer my questions...”

Ok, first of all what the actual fuck and what type of human being would ask someone that question, especially to a Charlie rp blog. More specifically, why would anyone ask a roleplayer that question. It disgusts me that this anon would do this and I hope they get what’s coming to them.

----       ------      ---    --------         ----------  --   ----------------   -----                   ------- Another example of this comes from Tumblr and DeviantArt. You see, a strange user (we will refer to as “the User”) has been asking artists (minors and adults) a specific request in the HH fandom:

“Draw Angel Dust’s butt looking like his fluffy chest” Or sometimes even these asks: “Draw Angel Dust swallowing bullets” ”Draw angel dust smuggling drugs up his butt” “Draw Alastor killing Pentious with a penance stare” “Can I get a shot of Pentious' eye on his hat?” But it seems that the User would often ask artists to draw Angel Dust with his butt out or doing weird shit, but mostly Angel Dust’s butt.

Of course, they would be constantly asking and spamming artists to do this, even if the artist didn’t want to. They even went as far as asking a 13 yr old artist to draw his request. The User has also admitted that it was a fetish (butt fetish to be specific), which is ok but that doesn’t excuse their actions. Fetishes are normal and I have nothing against anyone who has one but it is not ok to try and demand and spam someone to draw it if they don’t want to. The User has been also stealing art, not crediting artists, participating in art trades but never doing their part, begging or persuading for artists to give free art to them (despite some artists who only do commissions), making fake accounts and harassing /  impersonating people, acting racist, etc. I recommend any HH artist to block this user immediately if you get an ask from them.

If the artist doesn't want to draw your request, then you should leave them alone.

It is not ok to spam an artist’s askbox or DMs the same request they rejected over and over again. It’s not going to do any good for you if you do this.

Not only that,

The User also does this to HH roleplayers, sending really weird rp asks to them, mainly those who roleplay Angel Dust. In fact, there was one instance where they sent an ask to a Angel Dust roleplayer in which they basically raped Angel or asked very perverted question about their “Fluffy Butt” (the worst one is when they asked Angel rp-ers to swallow a rat and see if it comes out through the butt), along with other weird asks and it’s fucking disgusting / disturbing as this makes the User look like an extreme creep. It is not uncommon for these types of people to ask others to satisfy their fetishes or sexual desires, and will do whatever it takes to get that fetish / desire expressed from anyone (minors or adults) they can contact, even if it is illegal.

Unfortunately, this User has also ask artists these requests on DA as well, but way worse than you could ever imagine. The worst instance was where they’d ask various artists to draw a frog with worms up its ass. Yeah, I’m calling the Art Police.  Recently, the User had posted on DA discussing this issue. Of course they were acting very perverse, deny that they spam artists (even though it’s the truth) and trying to pull a bullshit pity party / sob story by explaining how they used to be homeless for 2 years, abused and attacked, which (I clearly doubt is true). The fact they tried to defend themselves by talking about how shitty their life used to be fucking disgusts me and is so very pathetic, it makes me gag knowing that these people exist and we are forced to live among them. The User is obviously trying to pull people away from the situation by using the pity card, and it failed. Why the hell should anyone give you the benefit of the doubt that you have done these sick, twisted, and inhumane things to artists by spamming them gross requests and being a big baby when people call you out, as if you should even deserve pity to begin with?  Now of course, what the User is saying does sound very hard to deal with and very sad, but once it crosses the line (due to these actions the User has done and has been very immature and uncompromising about it) people won’t care about how you got there nor feel pity about it. Besides, I doubt anything that the User said is actually true, especially the “homeless for 2 years” part, since if that were the case, you’d be more focused on money and rent rather than asking artists to draw a character clapping their ass-cheeks. Currently on this user’s DA page, they’ve been doing these abominations of status posts for some time, posting pity-post stories in order to get sympathy and just bad. In one of their posts, they go completely ape-shit. Like, this is what happens when desperation and lies is your only option to escape your problems because you’re to perverse to try and fix those issues. I doubt anything this guy says is real anymore since, at this point, anything they say is just a way for them to get pity-points.  Here are the posts btw -----v

Overall, this user is a art thief, spammer, pedophile, manipulating, lying disgusting immature pig that should be eradicated from the internet and all communities for they have been nothing but harassed and cause problems in the fandoms they entered. 

In conclusion, If you are an HH rp / art blog and you are getting uncomfortable asks like these, do not respond and / or block the person asking, you have that right and these people can’t tell you otherwise. If you are harassing people like this, then shame on you for your actions and you seriously need to stop. Its not fucking ok and it will never be ok. NEVER FUCKIN’ EVER. 

2. Art Theft 

Now those of you who have been here for a long time in the Vivziepop Fandom, you will know that many people would sometimes repost Vivz’s artwork. Most of the time we usually don’t do this in the intent of stealing it but to share it or even criticize it. Seemingly Vivz doesn't have a problem with this, unless you are stealing it for you own personal gain and lie that it’s their art. That’s right, these bastards steal her art and claim its theirs. If you been frequently going to Vivz’s Twitter back in 2017, you might remember her calling out a blog that was stealing her art and saying it was theirs.

If you thought that was bad, not only does this happen to Vivz, it happens to other artists in the the HH fandom, the two I’m going to talk about come from @rabbit1225​ and @ztoonsz.

Rabbit1225 makes beautifully drawn artwork of characters, and they are especially well known for their fanart on HH characters in the fandom (Lucifer from HH to be specific). But, unfortunately as Rabbit continues with the fanart, others take it without permission. In fact, there was one instant where someone had ask Rabbit if they could use their picture of Lucifer in the Hazbin Hotel Wiki for Lucifer’s bio in a conversation on DeviantArt. Rabbit said no, but they didn’t care. They not only posted it on the wiki, they spelled Rabbit’s DeviantArt name wrong. Fortunately, Rabbit told the person to remove the pic immediately and told them off for not listening, and so far the pic was removed from the wiki.

This would soon lead to Rabbit putting big watermarks over most their artwork so art thieves couldn’t steal them. I mean, the watermarks are so big they take up the whole pic, which is smart. But still it is a very sad thing to see this happen to artist like Rabbit just because they make some good art of their favorite characters. Sure, asking artists for permission to use their artwork is ok, but taking their art (even if the artist said no) without permission is extremely wrong and disgraceful.  -------    ----              ------------                 --------------------------    -----    ----------

Ztoonz is also an artist who draws HH characters, including their HH oc. Suddenly, an Instagram user was not only stealing their HH art, but stealing various ones from another artist. Ztoonz confronted this thief, and it went pretty bad to say the least. The thief kept saying it was “Their art” and kept calling them insults like “Bitch” or “British Cunt”. What really put the nail in the coffin was when the thief  threaten to repost Ztoonz’s art and claim that Ztoonz was the one stealing it. Now that’s just cold. Of course, Ztoonz made a post regarding this and everyone started to report this thief. Thankfully, the thief deleted all of the art because they knew they fucked up and they deserved it. 

If an you are reposting another person’s art, you must ask for permission first. If don’t and just straight up do it anyway, be sure to credit them at least.

If the artist asks you to remove the reposted art, Do IT, as the art is theirs and not yours and you could get sued or even arrested by the artist for stealing their art.

 Respect an artist’s request to leave their art alone or credit them and move on with your life.

It’s not that difficult. You’ll look bad.

This also goes for Ocs as well, of course.

It is despicable and stealing another person’s character and / or art , it makes you look like you are devoid of creativity to make your own and it’s scummy.

 3. The Attack Of HH Shippings 

This is a tweet Vivzie made on her Twitter. I hope you read or at least acknowledged this tweet, because I’m going to talk about a certain issue regarding this. You see, the reason why Vivz made this tweet was because of the fact that there was an increase of actual people bullying other for certain  ships, canon or not, which I must say is just sad. Like, guys they’re just cartoon characters, calm the fuck down. If you’re seriously going to debate others about a certain ship and whether or not it’s canon for 2 hours, then you are the real fool here.  I don’t know what’s worse: -People shipping real-life people that don’t know each other / have no love or sexual relations with.  OR -People getting into heated arguments about certain fictional character ships from cartoons or shows. What more do we need to tell you? How many fucking times do we all need to say it to you people? Doing this is just going to make you look like a shit person, and an immature one at that. There is no reason for you to do this.There is no reason to attack someone for having some ship of an HH character because you disagree with it. I’ve said it, everyone has said it, even Vivzie herself has said it.  I know this is common in almost all fandoms and communities, but come on, ya’ll should be mature enough to know that being a bitch about stupid shit is just stupid. You guys are old enough to learn how to respect an opinion / interest, yet you people are crying like babies about how some people are shipping Vaggie and Angel Dust cause’ he is gay and not straight. THEY’RE JUST SHIPS! Not only that, even if Angel Dust and Vaggie used to be a couple in the older version of HH and it’s not canon anymore, you can still ship them regardless.

Sure, we all love our demons guys n’ gals but we need to remember they’re just characters and we can do whatever ships we want. Of course, there are going to be the weird looking ships, but we need to respect those ships. You have no authority to tell a person to kill themselves all because they shipped Charlie with Alastor. You are not the God of Ships, nor are you entitled to say you are. 

Speaking of the Vaggie x Angel Dust ship, my friend @scarecrowinc93 told me about someone supporting that ship here on Tumblr. They loved it so much, they made a kickstarter to make the ship canon. Fucking Madlad. But when people tried to tell them that it might not come true, they went ape-shit. They responded to all of this in a post and were extremely rude and bitter about it, though they tried to cover their tracks by deleting it as soon as they realize they fucked up. Now as much as we love fan ships and wish they could be canon, it might not happen and you need to except that fact. 

Just because you’re in a fandom that have excepting ships does not mean you can harass people for disagreeing with your ship or anyone else. I get it people should have free opinions here and there, but you don’t have the right to speak in a rude manner because someone didn’t like your ship. That’s not right and you know that.

4.”Is Hazbin Hotel a Scam?” Bullshit and Clickbait Slander

What happens when someone is desperate for views on YouTube? Slander and attempting to start drama of course! There had been two videos that have caused a bit of a steer. 

The first one was at the day of Christmas Eve, a video called “Is Hazbin Hotel a Scam?” was uploaded by some random person, and I gotta say I was pissed off and disgusted. This might as well be the most infamous video slandering Hazbin Hotel to exist. Words cannot describe this video, and the only way I can describe it is with this image:

I’m pretty sure everyone knows that Hazbin Hotel isn’t a scam. For one, Vivzie and the HH crew do not want to let the fans down, especially at this point in time as Hazbin Hotel is popular with a majority of fans, who are excited for the upcoming show. Do you really think Vivziepop would want to let her own fans down and lie about the upcoming show just to gain money? Yeah uh, how about no motherfucker. They’ve been working so hard to even stop the project at this point. Multiple clips from the pilot have been released to the public, and you can clearly see that the HH crew are working hard to make this show real. Animation that could make Disney cry, colors that pop and vibrate with beauty, and characters with designs that defy our ability to comprehend. For example, Ashely Nichols is one of the HH animators / artists working on the project. She is well known for the many streams she broadcasts. Most of them are usually of her animating various scenes, but with a bit of a twist. You see, to make these streams more entertaining, she brings in one of the several voice actors of Hazbin Hotel to the stream and have the viewers give voice requests said voice actor. In fact, she is currently in a relationship with Micheal Kovach, the voice of Angel Dust. Sometimes even Vivzie makes streams. During those streams some viewers would ask her various questions about Hazbin Hotel, and you know what she does? She answers their questions. Vivzie likes to talk about the Hazbin Hotel’s universe, especially her characters and want to share them with her fans.  So how is that a scam? If Hazbin Hotel was a scam, then why is the HH crew so dedicated to make this project successful? Explain that, cause’ it seems that the person who made this video might have something to say about this. I question whether or not this person is a troll or not, but I’m on the notion they did this for views since in their channel they have never talked about animation or anything related to that and probably doesn’t even know anything about it. Literally, when I first went on this person’s channel, there was barely anything in there that related to animation, art, or anything of that sort but (what I can assume to be) video blogs with barely any views. When I saw this, I could just feel the desperateness for views radiating from their channel. It’s like the equivalent of someone cashing in on a famous person’s death because they’re so desperate for views and attention. When first watching this “exposed video”, I honestly couldn’t even watch it at it’s fully entirety because it was that bad. The points this person made were too idiotic to take seriously and I feel bad for those who believed these disgusting lies. Here are just some of the “points” this person made about the so called “Hazbin Hotel scam”: - Having merch before the show has been released - Having no official release date - The crew only caring about money, not the fans - Having two Patreon pages (One is Vivziepop, the other’s Hazbin Hotel) These are just some of the “points” the person made in the video, and oh believe me it gets worse. While some seem understandable, most of them sound too abysmal to be true. Like seriously, “Having no official release date...”? How petty do you have to be to make up this shit? I get it, the internet can be a sketchy place and you can’t always trust the things you believe, but that statement does not make sense. Let me explain, most animation projects take time to make, like it can 5-7 hours to make a 10 second clip. Now imagine 30 minutes (which is how long the Hazbin Hotel pilot will be), imagine how long it would take to animate. Drawing every single frame neatly and correctly, making sure every scene is right, taking time and making it perfect. The amount of time and effort animators take on animating is astounding. Animation is hard and whether you animate or not, you know that it takes a great deal of toil and energy to do something like this, especially when it comes to 2D animation (which is the main animation style for Hazbin Hotel), where you have to draw each and every frame by hand. Animators need time to do this stuff and sometimes don’t when they’ll be done. Hell, animation companies like Disney, Pixar, Dreamworks, etc. need time for this shit and it could take them months or even years to even start the animation process. Even if these companies have a larger budget then Vivzie, that doesn’t mean she can’t full-fill her animation dream. Like I said before, Vivziepop has already released multiple clips from the pilot, talked about the universe of Hazbin Hotel and it’s characters, and overall make the wait for the pilot something everyone can enjoy. If it were a scam, the animation wouldn’t look completed / smooth, Vivzie would not be talking about the HH universe as much, there wouldn’t be as many animation streams being made, etc.

Apparently, the video was so bad, misleading, and plain retarded, Jakeneutron (who is an animator well known for doing stuff related for Steven Universe), told the person off in the comment section along with other people who actually have a brain. This person, this fucking person, was just spouting bullshit claims like how: 

“They only care about money than the project”

and

“It takes 6 animators to make the merch line and several days to release the merch line”

This person obviously doesn’t know how to tell a good lie because his claims are total bullshit and easily debunkable. The video might have been deleted since it hasn’t been seen near the top when you search “Hazbin Hotel” on Youtube but I don’t want to say it too soon, but if the video is still up then I recommend to not watch it as, like I said, just an attempt to start drama and get views from a pathetic troll / leech.  Seriously, these lies are so bad I feel like my brain cells are slowly dying just reading them.

-----------  --------      -------------------   ---    ------------------     -----------  - ----

Next one, a video was uploaded seemingly in December  of another random person’s “reaction” to the Hazbin Hotel trailer and was pretty bad. One of the most idiotic claims this person kept dragging was that this was for children and it is very inappropriate. How? HOW?!

How is a show about demons, murderers, villains in Hell (with mild cursing and sex jokes) for children? This person literally thinks that anything animated is for children. I swear people with that mentality about animation always being “Family Friendly” are just plain idiots. Like look at Family Guy / American Dad / Bojack Horseman / Mr.Pickles / The NutShack, they all have mature and inappropriate themes in them, and they’re animated.

Generally speaking here, yes I do think young children shouldn’t watch HH for obvious reasons. Yes, even though the characters are really funny and enjoyable and the animation beautiful, it’s not mean’t for a very young audience. You could tell Hazbin Hotel isn’t family friendly the moment they talk about drugs, Hell, murder, genocide, etc. but this person acts like it’s going to corrupt our kids the nano-second they watch it. Not only that, they were involving religion into the video. Unfortunately, due my poor memory, I couldn’t remember what they said, but what I do remember was the title saying “I’m never leaving my church ever again...” and the thumbnail being the person seemingly holding a mini bible. Unsurprisingly, they got a lot of hate from that video, but for some reason the person was liking every comment (including the ones that were going against him), which begs the question, What the fuck? The video was deleted, of course.

Now, oddly enough this person is special in a way. They may just seem like your average slanderer towards HH, but they’re a weird one. You see for some reason this person kept making “review videos” on the HH clips or videos apparently supporting HH. Yeah, excuse me but what the fuck? Are they trying to cover their tracks? 

It’s hard to tell if they’re a troll or not because at this point I don’t know. First they slander HH, now they supporting it? What is this person doing and why?

One of my most biggest problems with their HH ‘review’ videos is how the jokes they make are bland, unfunny, and just confusing (to me at least). When they make an attempt at a joke, it’s hard to even call it a joke because it makes you debate whether to laugh or not. 

For example, in their “review” to “A Cautionary Tale”, Angel Dust says he’s “Not too big on politics”, and then the person takes out a MAGA hat, wears it, and says “Well, then you and I are gonna get along great!” I think it’s suppose to be a political joke since in the corner it said *Republican joke*, but at the same time it comes across as not really funny.

My second biggest issue I have about them is how they literally have no fucking clue on what they’re saying. Like they have no idea who the characters are, the universe of the show, etc. and honestly comparing them to an average HH fan, they have the IQ of a penny when talking about HH. In their “A Cautionary Tale” review video, they literally claimed there was no such thing as an “overnight” in Hell and that they’ve been hearing people say that everyone in the main cast of HH died in the 1940s (even though most of the characters have different personalities based on when they died, which is not just the 1940s). Yeah, this ain’t it chief. 

One of the most stupidest things this guy said was that Alastor was Adolf Hitler himself...  Yeah no. Like I’m not sure if this is suppose to be some sort of joke, but judging from this guy’s low knowledge on HH and them being obsessed the 1900s, it seems likely. 

Firstly, Alastor died in 1933, New Orleans (which was told by Vivz in one of Ashely’s streams) during the great depression before WW2, while Hitler died in 1945, Berlin during WW2. Literally, you could just google “Adolf Hitler” and it would show you his date of death on the right side of the screen when you google him, and for Alastor you would go to the Hazbin Hotel Wiki. It’s not that hard.

Secondly, if Alastor was Hitler, then he would have spoken in german or german accent, hate Jews / African Americans / Gays / Hipsanics / etc., have a swastika on this arm, and have the signature mustache or at least something like Hitler. Alastor speaks in a 1930′s voice and speaks english, literally (seemingly) doesn’t care about what race or sexual orientation you are, has no mustache.  

If you went and researched about these characters more on the Hazbin Hotel Wiki, then you wouldn’t look so stupid especially if you want to be invested in the show’s characters or the show in general.

If you haven’t noticed yet, this person is into some war history judging by his interest of World War stuff. I can understand that they may not know, but (like I said) you could literally go to the Hazbin Hotel Wiki to learn more about the story, rather than make dumb assumptions on things you don’t know. You have the internet, use it.

If you think that making video’s slandering a show or person gonna get you good-ass views, then fuck you. Doing this will do nothing but bring angry fans and confused people believing the things you say. If you find satisfaction from that, you are fucking disgusting and a trashy human being. 

5. Roleplay Bullying

Much like HH ship-bullying, roleplayers are being bullied by their way of roleplaying. One that has come to attention is one coming from the Twitter RP-Verse. They roleplay as Alastor and has been acting like a tyrant. You see, they are also an artist who do HH fanart and are well-known for it actually (but I won’t tell who). They would insult roleplayers for their ability or way of roleplaying behind their backs and it’s quite childish for someone to be mad at something so small and idiotic. The roleplayer would use their fans to try and force other rp-ers from the roleplay, as if they control it, which is false and you can’t really control a roleplay, unless someone’s being annoying af and I doubt that this Alastor roleplayer is doing what their doing for that reason. I can understand that territories like this can get pretty hostile, but regards to this specific situation there isn’t really an excuse. I’m not going to go too deep into this topic since (let’s be honest) is another version of HH ship-bullying but except it’s roleplay. Maybe next time I’ll go deeper into this.

So what did we learn today?

Today we learn how truly pathetic us humans can be. How people would go out of their way to conduct such petty crimes to satisfy themselves because they have nothing else better to do in their sad little lives. 

I might make a part 2 of this post, since I couldn’t talk about everything I wanted to say in this post since that would take forever to make. 

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Thank you all for read my post!   

I wish everyone in this community the greatest and to be safe on the internet. Toxic people are crawling left and right and it is important that we don’t let these people get to us, we are better than these people.

If any of you guys want to make a similar post like this, then go ahead! It would be much appreciated to help spread this awareness and make our or other communities less toxic. 

[aion-rsa]

What’s Happening With Marvel’s X-Men?

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains spoilers for recent Marvel X-Men stories.

A long time ago, back at the beginning of the interminable, endless month of March that the pandemic has trapped us in, Marvel’s X-Men books were barrelling towards their first big post-Dawn of X crossover, X of Swords. And then the world stopped, and plans changed for the X-Men while everything was paused.

Now that we’re back, plans have changed, and books are coming fast and furious. So what’s going on with Marvel’s Merry Mutants? Which book did Storm get sick in? What book should you read for a good Laksa recipe? New Mutants, but we can answer all your other questions on what’s going on with the X-Men below. 

While we won’t rehash the entire thing, House of X/Powers of X reset the entire X-Men line. Mutants can’t die anymore (or rather, if they do, they’re resurrected from clone bodies and emergency backup minds by The Five and Professor X). The X-Men, and all mutants alive, are now living on Krakoa, a living, mutant island in the Pacific that, at some point in the distant past, broke in half, sending one part of it to a dangerous, monster-infested realm with Apocalypse’s first Horsemen standing guard making sure it didn’t return. 

Humans are back to hating and fearing mutants on a wide scale, but this time it’s mostly because the mutants are vehemently anti-capitalism, flooding markets with cheap, life-extending and health-improving drugs and vowing to take down the human world with economic weapons of their own making. This has the humans initiating some pretty intense Sentinel programs, particularly around the sun, where Nimrod – the adaptive Sentinel whose existence dooms mutantkind in one Powers of X future – was very nearly created. 

And amidst all of that, Moira MacTaggert, the secret mutant mastermind with the power of Groundhog Lifeing (when she dies, her consciousness is immediately transported back to her prenatal self to be born again with all her old memories. She’s on life ten now, btw), is frantically trying to manipulate events so that mutants continue to exist in the long run as the next phase in human evolution, averting a future where man-machine hybrids (like Omega Sentinels and the Children of the Vault) develop while humans and mutants are busy fighting among themselves. She’s also not allowing Charles and Magneto to revive any mutants with precognitive powers, expecting them to see her plan and ruin Krakoan civilization.

X-Men

X-Men, by mastermind Jonathan Hickman with art mostly from Leinil Yu, is where big ideas are being seeded for later use.

This is where the story of Krakoa and its estranged, otherdimensional partner Arakko was further developed (following its introduction in Powers of X and setting up X of Swords, the first mutant crossover of the Dawn of X era). X-Men introduced Hordeculture (think the Golden Girls if they were also ecoterrorist botanists); reintroduced the Children of the Vault; showed how depowered mutants get in line to get their powers back; and saw Magneto and Apocalypse threaten humankind with the most terrible weapon of all: finance capitalism.

New Mutants

It also, just prior to the break, X-Men had a spiritual crossover with New Mutants, initially a split book by Hickman and Rod Reis on the space issues, and Ed Brisson, Flaviano, and Marco Failla on the Earth issues. Brisson, Flaviano and Failla’s story follows a group of Earthbound mutant kids (including Glob Herman and Boom Boom) as they track down stragglers to Krakoa, like Beak and Angel.

Hickman and Reis took the original New Mutants plus Chamber and Mondo into space to go pick up Cannonball (who was living on Chandi’lar with his wife, Smasher). On the way there, they stole a King Egg from the Starjammers and brought it back to Earth, where it turns out, we discover in X-Men, the King Egg is a bioweapon created by the Kree to control the Brood for an eventual war with the Shi’ar. Broo, the supersmart mutant Broodling from Wolverine and the X-Men, eats the egg and becomes the Brood King.

Excalibur

Excalibur is the shining star of the line so far. Tini Howard and Marcus To are growing the mythos of mutant magic with a very odd team that includes Betsy Braddock (now back in her original body and the new Captain Britain); Rogue and Gambit; Jubilee and her mysteriously dragonified son Shogo; new earth mage Rictor; and Apocalypse, who is clearly up to some stuff. Apocalypse picks a fight with Otherworld and places a newly resurrected but still batshit Jamie Braddock on the throne of the magical realm.

Excalibur was one of the first books to return from hiatus, and it came back with maybe the best single issue of the entire relaunch in issue #10. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Marauders

Marauders launched as the story about the Hellfire Trading Company, the corporate arm of Krakoa that distributes the miracle drugs around the world while also smuggling mutants in trouble home to Krakoa. But Gerry Duggan and Matteo Lolli’s book quickly turned into the mystery of Kitty Pryde – why she’s not able to use the Krakoan gates that allow instantaneous travel around the galaxy, and whether she can be resurrected by The Five. That story has just about come to a head, but it is worth noting that it still contains a great deal of Hellfire Trading Company intrigue between Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw, and a lot of drunken pirate antics. The resurrected original Pyro does get a tattoo of the Marauders skull on his face at one point. It’s fun.

X-Force

X-Force, by Ben Percy and Joshua Cassara, immediately killed Professor X. He was resurrected, of course, but it served as both a notice that everyone is fair game, and alongside Marauders, keeps some slight mystery to character death alive post-The Five’s perpetual resurrection machine. It’s also the story of the Krakoan CIA, so it sets up the global threats facing the mutant nation, and then sends Wolverine to get cut in half fighting them. Also, Forge creates a bio-mech loader suit and smashes the two halves of Logan back together at one point. If that’s something you find yourself chuckling at, this book is going to exceed expectations.

Fallen Angels

Fallen Angels focused mostly on resetting the current Psylocke’s status quo. Kwannon was brought back to life and placed in her old body shortly before the reboot (very quickly: Spiral switched Psylocke and Kwannon’s bodies, then before they could be reverted, Kwannon got the Legacy Virus and died, then when Betsy used a villain’s powers to recreate her old body and reinhabit it, Kwannon…uh…got better…). Here, she teamed with X-23 and Cable, with ops backup from Mister Sinister, to track down Apoth, a technological being selling cybernetic drugs to humans.

It’s mostly setup for Psylocke, X-23 (now Wolverine again, I think), and Sinister while adding another technological foe to the mix. It leads almost directly into Zeb Wells and Steven Segovia’s Hellions, a book about Sinister’s team of mutants who are all gleefully, unrepentantly screwed up and are currently on a mission cleaning up some old clones Sinister left lying around.

Cable, Wolverine, and More…

Cable, Wolverine and the Giant Size issues, are still mostly seeding future storylines. Cable, from Duggan and Phil Noto, has only had a couple of issues so far, but it’s brought the Galadorians (the Spaceknights minus ROM, who belongs to IDW now, I think) into mutant orbit and given Nathan a sword for the crossover.

Wolverine, by Percy, Adam Kubert and Victor Bogdanove, has Logan tracking down illicit Krakoan flower dealers, and also Omega Red works for Dracula now. And the Giant Size issues are mysteries piled on mysteries piled on incredible art. Hickman has scripted all three, and so far, Storm caught a technovirus from the Children of the Vault in the Jean Grey/Emma Frost issue (drawn by Russell Dauterman); we find out what’s up with Cypher’s techno-organic arm in the Nightcrawler issue (from Alan Davis); Magneto buys Emma an island from Namor with art from Ramon Perez; and we get actual backstory and incredible Rod Reis art in the Fantomex issue. 

Empyre

The recently wrapped Empyre: X-Men’s opening scene is simultaneously one of the most important to the metanarrative of mutant struggle that’s been developing since the Professor’s “No More” scene in House of X #4 AND the best setup/punchline in any Dawn of X comic. It also starts to deliver on some of the rumored-but-never-announced X-Men ideas that were floated early after the reboot – Angel and M are two of the leads, playing out a little of the boardroom drama we hoped for after an X-Corporation book was rumored.

X-Factor

X-Factor, from Leah Williams and David Baldeon, more or less just launched. It’s about the team investigating and verifying mutant deaths, to put those lives into the queue for resurrection. This feels like the book set up to deliver on the weirdest promises of the relaunch, and the creative team are inventive, fun storytellers, so keep an eye on this. Williams has a very sharp ear for patter and knows her characters well – while it’s not an X-book, Amazing Mary Jane is a stunning accomplishment of delightful character work. Early X-Factor is more of the same, with more mutant high concept.

And all this is leading to X of Swords, the new X-writers room’s attempt to outdo X-Cutioner’s Song: a 22-part Tini Howard-led crossover where everyone swordfights over half of Krakoa. And still dangling in the ether, unannounced but long discussed, are Vita Ayala and Bernard Chang’s Children of the Atom, following a group of mutant teenagers who idolize the X-Men, and a Moira X book that’s expected to fill in some of the gaps in Moira’s many, many timelines. 

The post What’s Happening With Marvel’s X-Men? appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3jXI6LJ

[ice-magician]

With Your Conscience As Your Guide

I made another AU off of the amazing AU @spaceiplier! (Go check them out if you don’t know who they are). Last time I did one for Matt, so now I’m doing one for our bud Nate from NateWantsToBattle (and if you don’t know who he is. Youtube.Go.Now.) The first part takes place before the events of Icarus, but soon brings you to our current screaming state. Another possible title for this was ‘The Price of Living’, but I landed on this one since his look is based heavily on the Puppet (conscience, Pinnochio, get it? ;) I have thoughts for a part 2, but idk...) BTW- sentence italics are thoughts, in case someone’s unfamiliar with this writing style. Enough stalling, here it is.

Five years ago

A quarantine- that’s what everyone had been told. For the benefit of the people, Atria was under a strict quarantine. Every known Atrian had been required to return to their home planet. All known Atrian homes were swarming with GAAP agents.

The people were given masks, air secure pods, GAAP’s “deepest condolences for the inconveniences”, and were booted back to Atria. A quarantine bubble was created to cover the entire circumference of the planet, immediately muting the song she sent to off worlders. Atrians didn’t carry some unknown, deadly disease. Atrians weren’t a threat to anyone or anything more than other citizens. Atrians were musicians; they were doctors.

As long as beings could strike a tune, music has been related to the soul. Certain melodies affect how people feel and react. Ordinary musicians can give audiences highs and lows with simple beats, for Atrians even more so. An Atrian’s music flows through the very souls and minds of their audiences.

As scientists linked music to brain activity, many Atrians found their way into the field of medicine. Simple strikes of a guitar could eradicate a tumor, and a complete song rose the deathly ill out of their beds. Atrian music had enough power to heal many of the galaxy’s complex diseases, and it scared GAAP. So, they locked the musicians up, claiming their healing energy had begun to emit deadly radioactive material.

With Atrians gone, medical advancements came to an abrupt halt. Viruses evolved. People needing an Atrian’s precise hand could no longer go under with a 100% guarantee that they would awake in a stable state of mind. No matter what people tried, nothing matched an Atrian’s abilities. Through it all, GAAP never budged on lifting the “quarantine”.

No, there was no disease. Atria had been sealed up because GAAP was afraid. Afraid of what Atrians were capable of. They were afraid of what might happen should the planet ever find the skeletons in GAAP’s closet. They were right to be afraid.

Closing off Atria wasn’t just to keep everyone in, either. Atria’s core is one of a kind. Above ground, she sings and dances to the energy created by her people. The further down ventured, the richer, and older the layers’ energy becomes. The lifesongs of any who live, and lived, on Atria flow through her veins, giving all inhabitants the energy they need to make the music required to survive. Finally, the core of the planet. A beautiful crystal sphere with the power of ten blazing suns. Pulsating with life, the sphere once reached into her world, to her people amongst the stars with crystals of their own.

When GAAP closed off Atria, offworld Atrians began to lose their power, their very energy. Any Atrian who managed to avoid GAAP would be forced to scavenge for their own energy sources. They needed energy to make their music, and their music to live. Music is like sleep to Atrians. Take it away, and the consequences are devastating. Atrians refusing to return home found their calm nature turn into something twisted; mangled into beings beyond recognition as they fought to live.

.

.

.

Nate reclined in his cushioned chair. Red light from fake windows made his black velvet vest almost appear to shine, the red button up underneath the color of blood. Black hair slicked back, black eyeliner, porcelain makeup, and an ornate cane. He really was working the part. An anxious customer sat before his desk.

A kid, late teens, probably. Poor thing’s legs were bouncing up and down so fast Nate was sure one would spring off. The boy’s skin was completely white, almost to the point of glowing. The only color was his practically neon green eyes, and matching green hair. Stark white, with eyes and hair of the same color- a Danacan. He wrung his hands, eyes affixed to the floor.

“So, you’re saying,” the boy began, “if I give you some of my energy, you’ll help me?”

Four tumors, that was how many the boy had left in his body after five medical extractions. The things just wouldn’t stop growing. Over the last two months, the monsters had become more aggressive; all had begun to converge on his brain. Doctors had given up hope on saving the boy’s life, and no one else would see him. Everyone believed he was a lost cause. When sayings like “lost cause”, or “no hope” arise in situations, people find themselves in places never before imagined. For instance, the underground shop of a mysterious healer.

“Look, kid.”

“Dan, my name is Dan.” The boy, Dan, offered a sad smile, for once looking up from the floor.

Poor kid. Nate knew he was Dan’s last hope. The medical field had failed him, so he had turned to a shady (but effective) businessman. It was too bad that Nate couldn’t offer his work for credits.

“Okay, Dan.”

Nate twirled his cane in his hands. The ornate rod held a perfectly sculpted crystal ball- Atrian crystal. Energy swirled inside in mesmerizing summersaults. If songs didn’t entrance you, Atrian energy certainly would. Stare long enough, and the orb’s bottled energy would be the center of your attention, the outside world no longer a bother. It was no wonder people mistook Atrians for workers of dark arts in older times.

Nate silently stood from his chair. His shoes didn’t make a sound as Nate glided towards a wooden shelf full of mysterious objects. Vials, scales, clouded jars, a small wooden box that flowed as a semisolid. Quite an impressive collection of mysterious trinkets Nate had assembled.

Nate spoke to Dan, “Life energy removal is no small matter, Dan. Your condition is serious. Doctors, nurses, therapists, they have all failed you...”

Nate spun on his heels, dramatically half sitting on the bottom shelf while leaning on his cane. A smile curled on his lips, white teeth shining, his eyeliner making his eyes’ devilish twinkle more pronounced, “... which brought you to me.”

Dan nodded. He was trying to look brave, but the flicker in his form quickly erased his false bravado. Desperation, nervousness, and a small sliver of hope. Nate could practically see an aura of energy radiate from Dan.

“Well, my dear friend,” Nate plucked a blue vial from behind his back, “you’re in luck.”

Dan’s eyes widened, “What is it?”

Nate gazed at the sparkling liquid. He held it at his eye level, showing its worth. The room’s red light made the glass glimmer more than it already did.

“This, dear boy, is what you came here for.”

Nate strode back to his desk. He slipped Dan the liquid. Its light danced in the boy’s eyes, but there was something more there. Dan held the vial so carefully, as if moving might break it. Hope; Dan believed the mystery serum would help him. Perfect.

“How much do you need? E-energy, I mean.”

Nate idly sat on the corner of his desk. He tapped his cane to his chin, pretending to think.

“Hmm… four months? Yeah, four months sounds good. Four months of life energy for a cure.”

Nate smiled. He pointed his cane at Dan, “What do ya say?”

Dan looked from Nate to the vial, then back to Nate, “I- I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on, kid! Four months in trade for a cure? It’s nothing! You won’t even need further medical hands for the formula to work. You take it, you go home, get rest, later you find that you’ve been cured. It’s a miracle!”

Nate threw his arms into the air, and winked for good measure.

Dan sighed, “Will it hurt?”

“Not one bit, kid.”

The boy nodded, “Okay. Okay, let’s do it.”

“Brilliant!” Nate patted Dan’s shoulder, causing him to flinch, “I knew you’d make the right choice. Just let me get everything set up.”

Nate quickly plucked the vial from Dan’s hand, “Here, hold my cane, will ya? I need both hands for this.” He patted Dan’s shoulder again, and turned to more equipment at the back of the shop.

The boy was still in the same position he had been in moments before, “Wait, what? How-?”

“Don’t worry, kid.” Nate pretended to fiddle with assorted props, “Just hold my cane. Mind checking if it needs polishing? I keep forgetting that.”

“But, I, what… about…”

Nate counted down in his head, Three, two, one.

Nate turned around to a familiar sight. His customer sat rigid at his desk, intently facing forward and holding the cane. From where he stood, Nate could see Dan’s expression trapped in his crystal, dead to the world. All was as it should be. Nate placed the fake liquid cure back on its shelf, along with the other props and knick-knacks he had accumulated over the years.

He tapped an obscure code into the wall. There was a click, and a part of the wall slid open, revealing a sleek blue electric guitar. A giddiness arose in Nate that only came with the excitement of performing. He hungrily plucked the instrument from its hideout.

Nate leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and played. The words weren’t prepared, they never were in those situations, they just came to him like a calm breeze. The air in the room stilled. It was as if everything, possibly even the world itself, had stopped to listen.

When he opened his eyes the store was swimming with crackling white energy. The hair’s on Nate’s arms stood on end from the dancing white sparks. The guitar’s strings shined and vibrated from the force of his music. Everything was in a shimmering, twisting, beautifully chaotic state of raw energy. He took in a deep, satisfied breath.

Nate strode back toward the frozen Dan. Leaning down in front of him, he could see the boy’s eyes were glazed over, completely fixated on the Atrian orb. His mouth was still open mid sentence.

Nate quickly retrieved his cane from Dan’s grasp. Holding it high above his head, Nate focused on the exact amount of energy he needed. Being drawn in by some unseen force, clusters of Dan’s life energy swam into Nate’s crystal. Four months of energy, to be exact.

Most of the energy was stored into the orb, but a few crackling tendrils coursed down the cane and into Nate’s arm. Energy shot through his veins in twisting lanes. They rocketed upwards to his heart, vocal cords, and face. Finally, Nate felt the cracking parts in his being begin to mend. Lightning bolts of life restored what was crumbling in Nate’s mind. For a while, at least, the energy would keep him whole.

.

.

.

Rendezvous were almost always in public places. With plenty of people, a scene would cause many heads to turn. It gave the customers a sense of security. Of course, while large crowds can be an advantage, it’s easy to get lost in them. A whirlpool of chattering, towering skyscrapers with various programs, and news sprawling across their surfaces. A cry for help would be a soundless scream into a deaf void.

Nate drove Dan to meet his friends. After customers’... operations… they were disoriented, sluggish, their minds easily bent to believe, or forget, certain details. Nate played the role of the customer’s chauffeur; an employee of the mystery healer. With patrons never truly remembering his face upon recollection, he earned the street name of “Phantom”. It was cheesy, but in a good way.

Nate the Chauffeur always wore a mask to meet ups, his cane in the guise of an umbrella. It was a rusted-looking bronze, and covered his entire face. Anywhere else he would have drawn attention, but he was in the center of a bustling metropolis. A rainbow of different colored individuals, all with different shades of hair, numbers of limbs, and amounts of facial features clustered together in a flowing broom of passersby. No one batted an eye.

Only one customer was allowed in Phantom’s shop, but the customer could decide who took them home. Phantom Nate being the one to drive patrons home was too risky, for both him and his clients. A mystery man dropping you off at your doorstep was bound to raise neighbors’ eyebrows. No, instead he created the persona of Phantom’s masked driver. Pretending to be someone that he wasn’t had become disturbingly easy for Nate ever since he became a lone wolf.

Half the city’s skyscrapers were broadcasting on their windows’ holoscreens. Reruns of popular shows, advertisements, statistics on people’s income and more all flashed in erratic motions in the square. Behind him, Nate caught sight of a familiar face. He was on his independent news/theory show, cracking bad jokes at the camera. Nate’s heart sank. When was the last time he had even seen Matt and Steph, in person, of course? Too long, for sure. As long as they were on screen, though, Nate knew they were okay.

Behind his mask, Nate smiled.

Well, at least one of us is doing alright.

“You better not be bullshitting us.”

Dislodged from his thoughts, Nate sighed, “Phantom doesn’t “bullshit” his clients.”

Dan had two friends, both teen Danacans, pick him up. One was a timid, shorter boy with gray hair pulled into a ponytail. The other was rather vocal, with a purple mohawk. He stood before Nate with stubbornly crossed arms, and an irritated look.

Mohawk sneered, “Yeah? Well where is he?”

Ponytail, who was struggling to hold up Dan in his groggy state, shot Mohawk a warning look.

“Come on, we’ve got Dan. Let’s just go.”

So, you’re the voice of reason in the group? Nate thought.

“You should listen to your friend. Give him a few weeks of recuperation, and he’ll be alright.”

Mohawk stared at Nate, trying to pick any information he could off of Nate’s unreadable appearance. Good for him. Always question the motives of others, especially in Nate’s line of work. Mohawk opened his mouth to say something, when one voice rose above the others.

“As many of you know, I try my best to diverge from political topics....”

Nate, and half the street, turned to the nearest news- broadcasting skyscraper. Trillions of pixels made the image of a brown haired man in front of a holographic screen. The spokesman was facing the camera, eyes practically burning with anger.

Matt, what are you doing?...

“Moments ago the planet Atria’s quarantine bubble was rocked with a massive explosion.”

An image appeared behind him- Atria. A rock lodged itself in Nate’s throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually seen Atria; he had been off world when the quarantine was announced. The Atria on the screen he barely recognized. GAAP’s quarantine shield made seeing the planet’s surface hazy; what marked the planet that day wasn’t able to be covered up. A giant scorch mark blemished the quarantine’s western hemisphere. Smoke was traveling fast underneath where the explosion made contact. Someone on ground had nuked the sphere. Without thinking, Nate took a curious step forward.

Matt ran a hand through his hair- a tick, something he did while thinking, “Before the quarantine… good friends of mine were Atrian.”

Nate could practically feel Matt looking at him.

“I have overlooked many of GAAP’s actions, but Atria is my home’s twin planet. For five years now Atrians have been cast aside, out of view. What did we do? We didn’t question it. Atrians are not a violent race, but people are capable of anything in order to survive.”

Matt walked closer to the camera, so close that all you could see was from his shoulders up. An expression unlike any Nate had seen crossed Matt’s face. Anger? Determination? A bit of both? The wheels were visibly spinning in Matt’s eyes.

“I will be visiting Ahtret’s satellite station as soon as I can. If any GAAP agents wish to meet and offer a feasible explanation, that is where I will be, but I will not let this stand. That will be all for today.”

And just like that, the building’s screens went dark. Half of the formerly bustling street was staring up, mouths agape in disbelief.

What was he thinking? Maybe that was it- he wasn’t. Years of not knowing what had happened to his sister planet, subsequently his own, and his friends, had finally pushed the Theorist to defiance. Part of Nate was proud of him, another felt guilty, and the last mortified. Matt might have been doing it for Atria, but Nate could tell he was doing it for him. Nate hadn’t contacted him since the quarantine. Matt probably thought he was dead, or down the broken path for survival. Most likely the latter.

“Damn”, a voice from behind- Mohawk, “if it’s enough to get Theory guy to cover it…”

He stopped, a devious twinkle in his eye. Mohawk turned to his friend, who was losing his grip on the drowsy Dan.

“Do you think this is the start of a space war?”

The smaller boy’s eyes widen in fear, “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, he doesn’t cover it unless it’s serious, right?”

“Space War? But dat’s just a theeory. A space theory!” Drugged Dan booped his friend on the nose.

Nate awkwardly cleared his throat, “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be off.”

They weren’t listening.

“Oh, come on, Hosuh! Don’t you want a laser gun?”

“... Stephen, I don’t even trust you to use a butter knife!”

“Nah, nah, nah. Knives are too informal for war.”

“Space war, pew peeww….”

Nate left as quickly as possible.

.

.

.

Two left turns, one right, one left, in through a bakery shop, out the side door, and the twists continue. Nate had truly mastered the art of avoiding capture, but that night his mind was elsewhere. He took the beginning twists and sharp corners, however, somewhere in the mess of crowded concrete and a cluttered head, Nate found himself far off his beaten path.

The sun had nearly set. He was on alone, one way street, apartments hugging the road. With an exasperated sigh, Nate slid to sit on the sidewalk. The glow from his cane/umbrella’s orb beat like a steady heart. He willed the orb to diminish its shine. A sweaty mask would do him no good if his umbrella was glowing suspiciously through the dark.

Nate thought back to earlier, the drop off, a moment that was supposed to be like any other closing for a client. Returning the customer just a formality, an act of humanitarianism on his part. If he wanted, Nate could let his clients wander outside of his shop, confused, gullible, their minds easily influenced. No, instead he went out of his way to ensure he maintained a clean image for his business.

All had gone well. He had his music, his energy, and the customer was satisfied. Then, disaster struck. The screens broadcasted his friend’s face to everyone. Matt’s determined expression, of utter disdain. He was walking a dangerous line.

Matt had always been so guarded with his information. When they spoke so long ago, even Nate had been unsure of everything Matt knew. His team was brilliant, one of the best in the galaxy, but did they know enough? Were they ready for GAAP? Call him crazy, but Nate doubted their ability to take on an intergalactic entity.

“Um, excuse me?” a male voice called from behind.

Nate started to turn, then thought better of it. His mask, he was still wearing the mask. In a city crowd, no one would care, but he didn’t have the luxury of apathetic passersby. He was practically in the suburbs, the close-knit part of town where everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows everything.

Nate cleared his throat. He stood up, dusted off his clothes, and readjusted his mask.

“Sorry to disturb you. I’ll be on my way.”

“What are you doing out here? It’s completely dark.”

There was an edge to his voice. He suspected Nate of something, as he should. A stranger idling on your street is something to take note of.

“Oh, nothing. Just got lost. You know how easy it is.” Nate tried to offer a lighthearted chuckle. The man did not reciprocate.

Part of him itched to reach into his coat pocket for the holo-guitar. A small, square object that would instantly project a holographic electric guitar. A few strums would be all he needed to calmly send the man back inside, but no. Survival instincts overthrew his desire to play. All that was needed was a cool retreat into the night.

“Anyway, goodnight, si-.”

Suddenly, Nate felt the muscles in his back tense up like taught guitar strings. Then came the electricity. It felt like the culmination of his entire being was on fire. His muscles started spamming. Nate hit the ground hard as he was sent into seizing convolutions. His mask flew off his face, bouncing until it stopped face down on the concrete, just like its owner.

A cloth was wrapped too tightly around Nate’s mouth. He had lost all use of his limbs. Nate was a rag doll on a side street in the middle of nowhere. His cane. Where was his cane?!

“... mask and a cane. Can’t miss him!”

Wait, who was talking?

A hand reached forward, and pulled down his sleeve. He felt utterly exposed. His veins glowed white in the dark of night, the energy from before still being fully absorbed. It took time for foreign energy to adapt to its new host, sometimes hours, sometimes days.

The sudden reveal of his unique biology caused his attacker to pause, “What are you?” he whispered.

Someone who’s gonna kick your ass if you don’t back the hell up!

Of course, rendered immobile, Nate couldn’t say these things. He was unable to protest as the attacker shrugged off his surprise, and inserted a needle into his arm. He was unable to object when the man examined his mask, then staggered back at the markings it had covered. He couldn’t call out for help as his mind went numb, and the world went dark.

.

.

.

The shop wasn’t as busy as usual. Nate was calmly fixing the newest guitar. He twisted the knobs on the once broken guitar. A simple job, really, but not to modern people. Sadly, Nate found that he was one of the few true music shops around in his town.

Nate struck a few chords. A soothing rhythm flowed forth. It was perfect, all fixed. Nate smiled to himself. Nothing was quite as satisfying as a perfect instrument. As he expertly polished the wooden surface, Nate glanced around. Guitars, electric and acoustic, hung for sale behind him. Various woodwinds remained silent on their stands across from him. The drums in the back waited for someone to strike a beat.

He bit his lip, and glanced down at the guitar. Its newly shining surface beamed back at him, almost in a mocking way. Nate gave the front door a sideways glance. The customer wasn’t supposed to return for another hour. Truly testing out the refurbished work would just be a part of the job, right? Ah, screw it. Nate slung the cleaning rag over his shoulder, and left the glass checkout counter. As he had left it, the “Sorry, We’re Closed” sign was still on the door.

Paranoid, he chided himself.

Nate lifted the beautiful instrument off the counter, and rested it on his leg. Outside, the setting sky of Atria wavered with spirals of blue and gray. Music glided through the streets, lifting up on the wind and flowing to all waiting ears. Such a tangible thing, Atrian music.

You didn’t need to see it to know that somewhere a celebration was underway. That was simply the way of Atria. Her energy met every soul, filling them to contentment. Nate closed his eyes, and smiled. He drifted into his music.

Nate wasn’t sure how long he had been entranced. When he opened his eyes the store was swimming with crackling white energy. The guitar’s strings shone and vibrated from the power of his music. Everything was shimmering, and twisting in beautiful chaotic swirls of Nate’s music.

He took in a deep, satisfied breath. Nate put the instrument down, and watched as Atria’s tangible energy danced across the store. It did tangos and ballets to the beat of whatever was playing outside. A large portion of the sparks concealed into a twisting mass. Without warning, the ball launched at Nate, sending him flying off his chair. He hit the wall, the guitar slid several feet away. Nate touched the tender spot, and recoiled from pain. The mass jerked from side to side, writhing, unsure of what form to take.

“What the hell?”

More and more energy was consumed by the mysterious bundle, each spark making its glow brighter. Nate shielded his eyes, and staggered to his feet. He felt the heap watching him as he hugged the wall, inching towards the door.

His hand was on the knob, ready to make a mad dash, when a massive weight knocked him in the gut. Glass and sparks flew in Nate’s vision. His body crashed into the concrete with a concerning “crack!”. Nate tried to get up, but he could no longer see; the orb had grown to completely swallow his vision. It felt like the light was absorbing Nate’s entire being. He let out a gut-wrenching scream.

His head hit the concrete again, but this time it was smooth and cold. Sparks danced behind his stone eyelids. Nate’s body burned with pain. Had someone reached into his body, pulled every muscle out, then sewed him back together? If so, they did a sloppy job. It didn’t feel like his hands moved when Nate called them to action.

Slowly, through the cotton in his ears, Nate began to make out human voices. They were all around him, fading in and out, whispering back and forth.

“Is he awake?”

Spoken in a normal voice, but it felt like the person shouted. Nate cringed from the growing migraine in his head.

“I believe so.”

“That guy really did a number on him, huh?”

Who was talking? What was going on? Curiosity won over pain in the end. Groaning with effort, Nate slowly lifted his head. At first, all he saw were a few blurry figures in a dark room. When his vision cleared all he wanted to do was run.

Nate was in a small room, handcuffed to a holotable, no cane to be found. Four people were in front of him. A man and a woman sat across from him, and behind them stood two very alert, very armed guards, GAAP guards.

Well, shit.

Sitting down, the woman was taller than the man by a few good inches. Her silver hair was pulled back into a neat bun, blouse immaculate and pressed. She had full brown eyes, so it was impossible to read her emotions. Her body posture was so rigid Nate was positive that it hurt. Her hands were clasped calmly on the blue, glowing table.

The man’s appearance was exactly the same- neat to the point of impurity. A button up green uniform, thick black mustache, and cold green eyes. His demeanor was more relaxed than the woman’s. The man sat a little more slouched backwards in his chair.  The man knew exactly where he was and exactly what was about to happen.

A smug smile tugged at his lips. He held up a small device, “Shock collar. Jolted you pretty fast from dreamland. Hate to interrupt your slumber, princess.”

He twiddled the device, as if it weren’t something that could violently wreck Nate’s neck. Wherever Nate was, there was a good chance that the man was in charge. He was clearly sadistic, and didn’t look like he would be stopping soon; unease bound itself to Nate. He needed out.

The woman spoke up, “Hello, Mr. Sharp. It is Sharp, isn’t it?”

Nate didn’t move, and not just because every molecule hurt. He refused to give these people any kind of satisfaction from his response. GAAP didn’t own him, they didn’t own his people, even if they thought they did. Silence was a counterattack to their pretentious attitude.

A couple of words was all he needed. They had a shock collar, but he could deal. The last time hadn’t been too bad, in retrospect. Nate could subdue them, get his cane, and break out. Underground, deeper this time, maybe even another galaxy? Nihill was the opposite of desirable, but its streets were so crowded that one Atrian could surely make a little nook for themselves. His mind was already searching for the right words to the melody that would release him.

A spark of pain shot through his vocal chords, similar to the jolt from his dream, but stronger. Nate howled in pain. Tears rushed to his eyes while the pain spread up and around his entire neck. He instinctively reached for the injured area, but his hands were still cuffed. Across the table, the smirk hadn’t left the man’s face.

“The brace around your neck is restricting your vocal chords. You may talk, but a single hum will cause an electrical shock. Similarly, if you do not talk, there will be another shock. Each time you do not cooperate, the voltages will increase,” the woman explained.

A grin of deep satisfaction spread across the general’s face, “What she means is simple- you’re our little puppet.”

Nate hadn’t noticed before, but there was something looped around his neck. A metal, light, but a little heavier, and near his voice box.

Nate sighed, “Nice accessory. I didn’t know GAAP was into kinky stuff now.”

The man squinted his eyes. He looked about ready to shock Nate again.

“My name is Marxca. I am apart of the intergalactic crime division of GAAP.”

Marxca shot the man a look, pushing him to an introduction of his own. He sighed, and put down the remote.

“General Jobs. I am the overseer of illegal galactic crimes, and suspicious people.” He pointed a finger at Nate, “That means you.”

Marxca typed on the table. Images instantly sprung up. A birth certificate, his high school diploma, the names of family and friends. Nate’s entire life was being presented to him through an interrogation room hologram. Thankfully, they only had one recent photo- him in the metal mask, hiding the deep, purple Atrian markings that ran like thick tear trails from his eyes. No mentions of his clients, or workshops appeared anywhere on the screen.

“A few weeks ago, we received an anonymous caller informing us about a suspicious man in a mask,” General Jobs said, “but by the time we got there you were long gone. But thanks to that, we had a photo on you to go by. Of course, with a mask like that, we figured you were a criminal. We searched there, and the surrounding cities, until a certain civilian managed to trick you with a taser. Imagine our surprise to find that you weren’t just a crook- you were an illegal Atrian.”

Nate ground his teeth, “I haven’t committed any crime other than living!”

Jobs reached for the remote again, but Marxca stopped him. She typed again, and the images receded. Unlike before, Nate could see her clearly now. She was GAAP, they both were, and GAAP wanted him gone, but where? Back to Atria? No one could get in or out of the planet. Even if he could, with God knows what happening on the surface, Nate wasn’t sure he wanted to. So, where did that leave Nate?

“Exactly what charges are you holding me here for? Being Atrian, is that it? Because of your fake-.”

Time stopped. Nate felt his heart pounding in his ears. None of the people, no one in the room, was wearing radiation protection. Even basic GAAP soldiers wore some kind of protection, the minimum being masks. Everyone in the room- the agent, the general, the two guards, they weren’t protected by anything. Nate knew that the Atrian cover up was deep; it left only a few of the higher ups aware of the truth. If the people surrounding him weren’t basic GAAP agents and police, then who was he dealing with, and how afraid should he be?

“You cannot return to Atria, you know that, Mr. Sharp. However, this doesn’t have to mean jail time.”

Jail time. Oh, God, if someone found an Atrian in jail what would they do? Kill him out of fear? Would the guards muzzle him for the duration of his stay (life, presumably)? Nate wouldn’t just be a fish out of water- he would be a fish on the chopping block, ready to be made into old-fashioned sushi.

“What would be the other option?”

General Jobs grew a wide smirk.

“Then,” Marxca said, “you would work for General Jobs and his scientists. You would help them create new weapons.”

All the blood in Nate’s veins turned to ice, “New… weapons?”

“Yes.” Marxca reached below her seat, and retrieved an old friend. Nate’s one constant, the only thing keeping him alive was right in front of him, in a GAAP agent’s hands. A rag covered the orb, but just being within close proximity to it breathed life into Nate. His body involuntarily took in deep breaths of air. Energy from his previous client, and leftovers from others, sat within the beautiful crystal. The inside swirled as a storm, sometimes energy flashed like lightning in a bottle. Nate wanted it. He needed it. He needed to live. General Jobs chuckled, jolting Nate out of his daze. Only then did he realize that he had leaned so far forward, that he was out of his seat.  

“What would you need me to do?”

“Sing for us.” her response was immediate.

Nate blinked in complete shock, “I’m sorry?”

Marxca examined his cane, the orb in particular, “The universe is expanding, Mr. Sharp. New dangers are arising, and we need people to be prepared. So, you can sing, play instruments, whatever you have to. You will create bombs imbedded with the energy that is held inside of this.” She pointed to his crystal.

Nate couldn’t believe his ears. Work for GAAP? Create weapons through his music? It was all so crazy, so beyond impossible, but that’s what made it a GAAP idea.

“You’re joking, right? You- you can’t just recreate Atrian energy! Our music is something we’re born with. It’s apart of our biology!”

Marxca nodded in sad understanding. She took back his cane.

“I see, Mr. Sharp. Atrian music is a part of you, yes? Well, I guess it’s Mr. Jobs’ turn to take over.”

Marxca stood from her seat, and with it a deep sinkhole in Nate’s chest.

“Wait, where are you going?”

She shrugged, “Isn’t it obvious? You say music is your biology. If that is the case, then I suggest that General Jobs’ scientists start working.”

No words, there were no words that came out of Nate. Plenty were locked inside, exploding, reemerging and creating in a mad cyclone of unbelief. Nothing in him could properly connect the dots into verbal communication. Nothing, no complex argument that was boiling. No screaming fit that he just about fell into.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

The GAAP agent smiled, “Because we need you. You may not realize it yet, but your contribution is invaluable.”

Through his inner turmoil, he hadn’t noticed Jobs’ absence, until a strong arm wrapped around his throat. Nate felt something penetrate his skin. His body went limp on the table, his entire life waiting to be shown just beneath its surface.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sharp.”

.

.

.

Nate rammed against the black wall of his cell. His body burned from, what he assumed were, hours of hitting the wall.

He had been blindfolded for the entire trip to his prison, but the trip had seemed to drag on forever. Upon arrival, Nate had been carried out of the containment ship, a little more carefully than he would have preferred. The saying “Don’t damage the goods” arose, and continued to linger in his mind.

Finally, Nate was given his sight back. Two GAAP agents had dropped him in a room made entirely of black crystal, and left him alone with General Jobs.

“This is the most durable, and soundproof, material in the universe,” Jobs had smugly said over Nate.

“You should feel honored. Only a few of these cells exist. They were made just for your kind. You special little Pipers.”

Pipers. Nate had felt like spitting on the man. Paralysis had robbed him of the opportunity, and Jobs had sauntered out the door. Nate had been a crumpled heap, alone in a dimly lit room where no one could hear him. In that moment, Nate had sworn he would survive. He would survive if for no other reason than to see the look on that bastard’s face when he escaped.

As soon as the paralysis wore off, he was in action. First, he screamed at the guards through the small, one-way mirror/hatch in the door. When that didn’t work, he resorted to pounding his fists against the walls, then his shoulders, and at one point Nate used his entire body as a battering ram. Nothing worked.

Nate slumped painfully against a wall. The sad light overhead flickered. Crystalline walls made for a chilly interior. Nate hugged his body, rubbing up and down his arms in hopes of generating some sort of heat. So he was alone, no big deal. Nate had been alone for five years. He would get out.

This time isn’t like the others, though.

No, scrapes he had gotten into before had never involved direct GAAP contact. Dodging local police and curious eyes, sure, but nothing the size of an intergalactic superpower. No, the intergalactic superpower. Nate still had determination, hope that he would escape, but the severity of the situation was finally setting in. Determination aside, he knew, in some way, he wouldn’t leave the base without being royally screwed.

A clatter resounded through the crystal room like the echo of a deep base. Nate turned his head. A small cylinder sat on the floor in front of the door that seamlessly merged into the wall. Small and metal, it could have been anything. Of course, that was before the ends popped off.

White smoke erupted from both ends, spreading like a slick snake across the ground. Nate held his hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to hold his breath. He stumbled to the far end of the room, but it was no use. Within seconds, the vapor reached him. It was pooling around his feet, coiling up his legs like a living being. One breath was all it took for the chemicals to do their jobs. Nate’s eyelids grew heavy, and the world slipped away.

.

.

.

The smell of rubbing alcohol. White, everything was too white. Masked forms shuffled around, never staying in one position for too long. The world was cold; its air sterile. His back was frigid; whatever he was laying on was unforgiving to the cold. Metal, Nate was on a metal table. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to get his bearings.

Hands swooped in and held open his right eyelid. A cotton swab stroked away fluid from inside his eye. Nate tried to pull away, only to find that his head was strapped to the table. He tried his wrists, his knees, his ankles, nothing. He was completely imobile.

“What… what’s going on?” Nate tried to ask, but he found a metal gag restraining him from speaking.

One of the people in full scrubs leaned over him, “Mr. Sharp? My name is Doctor Visca. We are going to run some tests to evaluate your anatomy. We haven’t had many Atrians, so if these sensations become too painful, let us know. I will be talking to you, describing what we are doing”

Nate’s eyes widened in horror. Painful? What?

Doctor Visca strode away, only to be replaced by another doctor. They attached a strange metal device over his voice box where the shock collar had been. Out of his view, Nate felt stabs of pain in his hands. He tried to squirm away, but his efforts were once again thwarted.

“The object around your neck is a vocal receiver.” Doctor Visca said, but it sounded like she was talking through a microphone. Was she in another room watching him? Were there other people there?

Doctor Visca continued, “The nurses have just inserted microtubes into a few pressure points on your hands. Most Atrians seem to… ingest... outward energy into their bodies through their hands. Of course, we cannot use music to create energy, but we have a few substitutes. Depending on the level of energy your body receives, you will hum softly or powerfully. The voice receiver will take your excess energy. The more you give us, the sooner this will be over.”

That’s not how this works! There are no “substitutes”, and I won’t help you!

Of course, Doctor Visca, nor the other doctors and nurses milling around, cared. Nate relaxed his body on the table. He closed his eyes, preparing for the pain. None of their tests would work, and Nate knew that there was no easy out for him. However, he would make it out. They wanted to play hard ball? Fine. They’d get hard ball.  

Hit me with your best shot, motherfuckers.  

A nurse administered the first energy surge.

.

.

.

The battery of a small communicator did nothing. So, they moved to a holoscreen’s- still nothing. The power required to move a cyborg arm, a hoverboard, a small transportation vehicle.  After that, the doctors decided it was too dangerous to try higher levels of electricity. The only results they were getting were sudden spasms through Nate, and some subtle laughter that the voice receiver picked up.Nate would have laughed more, if the last one hadn’t hurt so much. GAAP had never had the true legal ability to test an Atrian, but Nate was practically a dead man on Atria, and GAAP didn’t know about his business as “Phantom”. No one would miss a dead man.  

Over the weeks, frustration began to overflow. Doctors moved from electrical stimuli, to “biological exploration”. Through it all, Nate refused to sing. Whenever they allowed him to speak, they were met with creative intertwining of expletives, and the occasional bird.

However, despite his tough act, Nate felt himself wearing away. Each visit became more and more blurry. Every time he refused them he was a broken record. The number of people in his room dwindled, and their tests sloppy. Doctor Visca remained when others left. She was determined to find what made Nate tick.

Nate tried to explain, without giving away too much, the necessity of his cane. He maintained his resolve, but Nate felt his mind begin to trickle away. Nate could feel his veins try desperately to pump any kind of substantial energy to his body. Without his cane, he was barely running on fumes. Still, somehow, a little voice would always boost him up. He would get out. He was Nathan Sharp, the musician, the Atrian. He would beat GAAP.

.

.

.

Nate tried to hold onto his sanity, the good in him. He could feel the black hand of chaos, of utter destruction, try to claw its way into his psyche. He pushed his temple against the cool rock wall. He would escape he had to.

Nate had been locked away for weeks. He assumed, of course. Time didn’t pass for the imprisoned, but Nate felt every itching moment. Weeks were eternity for him. He hadn’t touched a guitar. Every sliver of energy a song might generate was absorbed by the traitorous crystalline black walls. Lord only knew where his cane was, the life of Atrian adorning its head.

He was sweating profusely, black hair covering his face. Nate could barely sleep at night because of violent tremors. Nightmares haunted his mind and sanity. The darkness of the night began leaking into his waking world.

Get the cane.

They’ll be sorry.

Insanity became an almost tangible being. It was a speck in the corner of his eye. He could see the outline, its shifting form, but if he focused too much it would fade away.

Nate slammed his hand against the wall. No. No, he would not give into the madness, no matter how much it beckoned him.

Fall into me, into blissful darkness. It’s much quieter here.

No.

It’s just a little ways. They won’t hurt you anymore.

Nate could practically feel the hand of insanity resting on his shoulder. He imagined the void as a humanoid, but made of utter darkness. Its body would sway without it even moving. It reached towards Nate’s mind.

.

.

.

“So, what do you think?”

Ash fiddled with her baton nervously, “You know we aren’t supposed to talk about it.”

Barry’s shoes squeaked on the pristine floors of the base, while his comrade floated anxiously. They made their way forward, but Ash’s mind was stuck in the past, to the… event. The video continued its replay over and over in her mind. It was a loop that Ash was confident would never cease.

He scoffed, “Oh, come on. It’s just me. All the doctors are prepping the examination room.”

Ash bit her lip, “I… I don’t… I don’t think it was right.”

Barry’s carefree strides halted outside the prisoner’s room. He gave her a questioning look, “And why’s that? I mean, he was a criminal, and what happened after… I have no doubt that… that monster was on his side.”

Ash’s tail shifted back and forth, and back and forth. She shouldn’t have shared her opinion. Barry could be so close minded and stubborn sometimes. Plus, she had no doubt that he was right. The horrified look on the doctors’ faces before the man lunged. The fact that he attacked after…

Ash sighed. She didn’t want to think about that day, about the carnage, about his death. What was done was done. Be that as it may, Ash knew deep in her soul that it had been wrong. She closed her eyes, thinking of the best way to make her friend understand. Best to dive in head first.

“Because I met him.”

“You what?”

“I met him, him and the entire crew.”

Ash opened her eyes, and turned to her friend. His skin was pale with shock. Would he believe her? They were friends, right? He should trust her judgement.

“Two months ago Iyton and I were sent to out for security. Nothing special, really. Jobs just wanted to ensure that the perimeter hadn’t been breached. So, Iyton and I took a stealth pod and set off.

We circled the area three times, just to be thorough. Of course, no one was there. We started to head back when we were hit. Those ships can be so slow, you know?...”

Ash shuddered at the memory. The ship had tilted so far sideways that Ash’s seatbelt was the only thing keeping her from falling onto Iyton. Alarms had bathed the room in red. Sirens screamed in their ears, as if to emphasize how bad the situation was. The force of the jolt had knocked Iyton sideways. Pink blood oozed from a sizable gash in his head.

They were soldiers; they were supposed to be the epitome of fearlessness. However, in that moment, she had seen the look of despair that flashed in her colleague’s eyes.

Damage to ships wasn’t uncommon in space. Debris and chunks of rock were bound to hit eventually, but that trip had been different. One of those one in a billion chances that crews end up talking about during down time.

“So sad,” they would say.

“I mean, what are the odds?”

Then they would go back to their daily routine.

“Our CO2 converter and left engine had been hit,” Ash continued. “This base isn’t exactly well known and we were in a stealth pod. Iyton and I were practically in dead space. Hours away from a true repair station.

I mean, we tried our best. Iyton checked on the damage while I sent out distress call after distress call, but no one came… GAAP wasn’t there, and, honestly,” Ash gave Barry a stern look, “I don’t think they would’ve risked a rescue even if they had heard us.”

Her friend was speechless. His skin was a shocked gray. She could see the wheels turning in his head. He knew what was coming.

“Then, then they showed up. A cyborg lady, an android, a weird robot, two dogs, a purple lady, a Graeldur, and… him.”

After all this time, I still remember their names: Amy, Ethan, Bing, Chica and Henry, Kathryn, Tyler, and Mark.

“They rescued us, even made us food afterwards. One of the dogs wouldn’t stop asking them how we were, and the other got so much goop on Iyton.” Ash chuckled a little at the memory.

“What happened next?” Barry asked.

Ash shrugged, “They fixed up the converter and engine. He… Mark, insisted on getting us back to base, but, of course, we couldn’t tell him. So, they repaired our ship, and left. They saved us… They’re good people, all of them. So, no, GAAP didn’t do the right thing.”

It was Barry’s turn to stare blankly at the floor. He was silent for a minute, absorbing everything. Recalling that day, yes, she did get a shiver of horror. Those blazing lights, the feeling of utter hopelessness. Then, thinking about the Barrel crew, their kindness, gentle natures, willingness to listen, that almost made the fear go away. Plus, there were the dogs. Ash had always wanted a dog.

“Kinda, kinda makes you think, doesn’t it?” Barry, finally speaking, pulled Ash out of her thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“... I mean, we’re here, guarding a man we’ve never truly met. Why? Because GAAP said he’s a monster. That his kind radiate some awful disease, but you know… in all my time here, I’ve never seen the doctors wear any kind of radiation protection. I don’t even think Jobs wears anything.”

Ash was taken aback by her friend’s words. He was right. Ash hadn’t noticed it before, but hardly anyone on base wore any kind of protection. She and Barry wore masks, which she had assumed was enough. Then again, they were the only two that hauled the prisoner in and out of his cell. They administered the gas. They dragged him out through the smoke.

Was it really to fight disease, as they had been told? Or could it be simply to protect them from smoke inhalation? How had the conversation veered so off track? She had barely expected Barry to believe her, let alone fuel her doubt.

Ash gazed through the small slot in the prisoner’s door. Looks can be deceiving, but Ash could feel that something had changed. He just sat there, head against the crystal wall. The wall made just for his kind.

“His”, “him”, “he”? Ash had guarded the Atrian for weeks, yet she hadn’t even bothered to learn his name. A deep pit of regret opened in her stomach. It was so powerful, painful even. She thought it might swallow her from the inside out.

“Ash,” the same regret in her veins was mirrored in Barry’s voice. “Ash, what if we’re wrong?”

The guard couldn’t take her eyes off the prisoner. His shaking form, the exhausted slump. When was the last time he had even fought them as he was dragged out? He was broken, and part of it was her fault.

“I’m- I’m going to the console room. I need to check on Masters.”

Barry was still talking, but Ash couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t make herself tear her eyes away from the shaking form in his cage. Barry’s words rang like a gong in her soul.

“What if we’re wrong?”  

.

.

.

Nate was strapped onto the operating table, like every other day. The guard’s smoke sedative made his soul like it was floating out of his body. He knew it would only last for a few more moments, but he found his muddled mind wander to other things- the guards’ words. Something had happened, something big, but it seemed that only the two guards wanted to talk about it. Inside the operating room there was no sound but the shuffle of feet, and adjustment of equipment. 

There were two doctors in the room. Nate had never learned their names, so he settled with calling the bald one “Spot”, and the small girl “Ditsy”. Perched in a viewing room overhead behind a one-way mirror, Nate knew Doctor Visca was there. A deep tug pulled at his gut whenever he looked at the glass. It wasn’t dread, nor fear, but something else. It was something Nate couldn’t describe.

“I wish I could’ve been there.” Spot grumbled as she took Nate’s vitals.

Ditsy sighed, “You would’ve been a red splat on the wall, thanks to that maniac.”

Spot adjusted the overhead lamp. He flicked it on, and the machine whirred on. A blue light spun out, taking a peek into Nate’s insides. If only they had known that the inside didn’t matter. Madness had followed him from his container. The humanoid void was a ghost on the edge of his vision. The more Nate tried to get a good look, the more it inched away, but it was there. Its thoughts itched to fully leak into Nate’s mind.

They’re going to kill you, just like they killed him.

There had been an execution, but who? Who was he, or more accurately, who had he been? Nate had never actually gotten a name through his eavesdropping.

“Who died?” his voice came out hoarse. Nate sounded like a rusted gear grinding noisily along its track. Lack of use, and electrocution had taken their toll on his vocal cords.

Spot and Ditsy froze. Their eyes were wide with shock and fear. The only times the doctors had heard his voice were muffled screams from Jobs’ at their hands. His speaking voice, as far as he could recall, had never been properly utilized between the three. Nate had always been too busy convulsing in pain to make conversation.

“Uh,” Spot glanced nervously at Ditsy, who showed no signs of moving. She started breathing heavily, her hands slightly shaking. Was she, was she afraid? Interesting.

Spot cleared his throat, “No one, um, no one of your concern.”  

“Ah, so someone I should be completely concerned about. Things really are escalating, aren’t they?”

A smug smile tugged at Nate’s lips. What was he doing? Speaking still felt like he was gargling wet gravel, but there was something in the way they responded. They were afraid of him. He was weak, had no cane, and was barely running on fumes, but their fear… It sparked something deep inside him. An electric giddiness, like he was a child opening the first present on his birthday. He had nothing, but his very DNA still made them quiver. Nate hadn’t noticed, but his smirk had widened into a mad grin. Insanity was smiling back.

“Sir, if- if you keep talking, we’ll have to put the collar back on.”

Spot straightened his back, but his facade of strength was quite pathetic. Still, if that’s the game they wanted to play, so be it. Nate hadn’t had true entertainment in weeks.

“His name was Mark. Mark Fischbach.”

Ditsy’s words came out timidly. Her face was practically lodged in a holochart. She turned her back to twiddle with the vials on the counter, but her hands were shaking so bad she nearly dropped one. She was obviously doing everything she could to not look at Nate.

Mark, Mark Fischbach. Where have I heard that name before?

“It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and we’re all the better for it. Hand me the-.”

A memory, so dusty it was like an ancient artifact, resurfaced. Nate had almost forgotten about it. A play, no, a musical, the Summer before everything went to Hell....

Nate was in a small workspace. A friend had contacted him about a short series he was doing. A horror musical based on some old Earth story he had dug up. Admittedly, the musical was odd, odd, but interesting. Interesting enough to make him say yes.

Nate gave a deep yawn, a small part of him regretting his decision.

Two in the morning. It was two in the morning. Nate had wrapped on his single scenes forty-five minutes ago, but they were still waiting for his absent co- actor to show.

Nate rested his head on an old computer prop, “You sure he’ll be here?”

The director, AJ, shouted from behind a fake wall, “Yeah. He’s done stuff like this before. Don’t worry about it!”

Nate fought to keep his eyes open. One more minute and AJ’s other actor would find himself working with a rag doll. He had been working all day on the project. His eyelids felt like two ton weights, his body weak from exhaustion. Would one nap really hurt?...

The door burst open. Nate jumped to attention far too quickly. His head swam around and around. Spots danced in his vision. Nate’s groggy haze did nothing to stop the newfound pounding in his head.

A newcomer stood in the doorway. His black hair was in a mad upheaval. He was panting, as if he’d made a mad dash onto set. Donning a snazzy gray wrinkled shirt, sweatpants, and tennis shoes it was clear that he was well prepared for a day of filming. Under his left arm was his wadded up costume.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m normally not like this. I’ve just been busy filling out GAAP papers all day, and I didn’t realize what time it was until…”

The frazzled man noticed Nate taking an assessment of him. Nate shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get these scenes done, and we’ll be good to go. Right, AJ?”

“Uh, yeah, but I will need you later for your full scenes.” AJ shouted from behind the wall.

He visibly relaxed, “Ok. That’s good. I can do that.”

Nate held out his hand, “I’m Nathan, well, Nate. Nate Sharp.”

He smiled and shook Nate’s hand, “Mark, Mark Fischbach.”

Nate’s memory froze. He felt his blood run cold as ice. There, in that moment, he couldn’t move. Lively brown eyes looked back at him. He had a crooked smile Nate could tell was used often. Mark, how could he forget Mark?

Mark had helped Nate on a few of his songs. He wasn’t Atrian, but Mark had a voice worth listening to. Up until his acceptance into GAAP’s school, they would collaborate. They weren’t close- knit family types, but Nate considered him a friend.

Nate knew someone who had worked for GAAP.

Nate knew a man who could fly almost any spaceship.

Nate knew a dead man.

He was back in the operating chair, but stuck in the past. How had it happened? Was it painful? Did his friends know? The doctors were talking, Mark was acting, and Nate was caught somewhere hopelessly in between.

AJ yelled, “Action!”

“You’ve got the new antiseptic, right?”

Mark stumbled over his line, “Uh, what exactly is this scene?”

A wetness slid down Nate’s arm. Something cool touched his skin, then a deep burning sensation. Nate was suffocating. He couldn’t get the lyrics right. The doctors were reaching for metal clamps. Mark had started his lines. Spinning round and round. A cane, a guitar, a martyr.

They’re going to kill you. You’re just a broken music box to them. They’re going to kill you just like they killed him, but they won’t stop. Oh, no, no, no, no. They will never stop. They won’t stop until every one of our kind is bleeding on their own tables.

No, Nate’s mind pleaded.

Yes, Insanity hissed.

“No.”

A screeching halt. Mark’s faces faded into memory. AJ’s set disappeared. Nate felt something in his mind, something dark, almost otherworldly, snap to attention.

The world was sharp, sharper than it had ever been before. White walls, aluminum floors, everything was far too… fake. Nate’s left arm flaunted a deep, precise cut. The skin was clamped open; the bloodied hand of a doctor still held on.

Cold darkness fell over the room. The type of cold when clouds are the color of ash, and the air makes lips numb. Horror, bone chilling, unfathomable horror had fallen over the operating room.

The world around shifted and swirled in consistently darkening colors. Nate felt his eyes go black. His cheeks ached; it felt as if someone had taken a molten rod to the purple lines down his face. Nate found himself enjoying it. Pain meant he was alive.

Dark smoke began a graceful cascade over his eyelashes. A beautiful waterfall of black vapor pooling at his lashes, then falling down his purple Atrian lines. Insanity no longer danced in his peripheral. No, the beast had won over a new home. Unadulterated rage burned inside of him.

Nate saw it in the man’s eyes- the solid panic he was bleeding into the room that was once a prison. The doctor’s soul- twisted, pathetic. A being that tortured and broke simply because he could. Nate felt dirty just looking at him. He turned to the woman.

Similar to her colleague- she hadn’t moved. She was a statue from the fear Nate was exuding. Terror personified, a ghost for the lack of color in her face. Mouth agape, horror racing through her eyes.

“Undo my cuffs.”

Despite the absence of his cane, and barely having proper energy, Ditsy moved towards his table. With quaking hands, she unfastened the wrist restraints, then the ankle ones, the knees, the head. She took several hasty steps back after finishing her work. Nate cautiously removed his right hand, flexed it, then the same with the left. He gave Ditsy an unnerving grin.

A crash, glass flew across Nate’s vision. He felt a dull throb in the back of his head. Whatever had happened, it was enough to push Ditsy over the edge. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed in a heap.

Nate turned towards his attacker. Spot held the broken end of a glass beaker in his hands. The doctor had assaulted him? Nate touched the back of his head, but was only mildly concerned when his fingertips came back a little red. In that moment, his only focus, his only rage, was centered at the doctor.

Nate stood from the table, rubbing and shaking the numbness out of his once bound hands. The doctor reeled back, only to hit a metal table. He was trapped.  

“STOP!”  

Doctor Vasca stood behind him at the stairs leading to her observation room. Seeing her, Nate’s heart stopped. It wasn’t because she snapped him out of his stalk towards the other doctor, or the fear in her eyes. Nate stopped because what stood before him was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Held high above her head, Doctor Vasca held Nate’s cane. She reminded him of an Earthen statue he had seen a picture of. Draped in a massive toga, chains broken at her feet, she had held a torch on a tiny island- a beacon of hope for travelers. Frozen in that moment, Nate supposed he felt what people seeing the statue from a forgeign boat had felt- hope. Nate had hope, pure hope, a hope that might was the darkness of his mind away.

Doctor Vasca was in terrible shape. Her hair was undone and in knots. Dark bags showed that she hadn’t slept for nights.

She had probably been up studying your anatomy. What she had done to you.

Nate felt the seething rage boil inside him again. His hands clenched tighter. The waterfall of darkness flowed steadily down his face.  

“I-” she stumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what we’ve done to you, but please. He has a family- two daughters. They need him.”

A family. Nate glanced back at the cowering man. A family…

“Does your family know what you do, sir?” Nate spat.

“It- I… I’m under oath.”

“Ha! “Under oath”, that’s a “No”, then. What would your daughters say if they knew what you did today?” Nate held up his bleeding arm. “What if they knew what you have been doing? What would they say? Would they be shocked? Appalled? Too afraid to even touch the monster that had been their father?”

Scenes were visibly playing through the man’s head. Of course his family would see him as a monster. He had cut a man open with no remorse, for weeks. He had cut through skin, ignoring Nate’s squirming to get away. He was a sick, vile monster.

“Tie him up.” Nate told Doctor Visca.

“I- I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Tie him up, and nothing will happen to him.”  

Doctor Visca gingerly set down Nate’s cane. She held up her hands as she made her way to the man. Nate watched as she tied him onto the table. He watched to ensure that every strap was as secure as they had been for him.

Without taking his eyes off the two, Nate walked sideways towards his cane. It took everything in him not to snatch it hungrily. He had to be alert; he had to make sure the doctors didn’t try anything. Nate slowly bent down sideways, and picked up his cane. The effect was immediate. Like water from a cool spring, energy ran from the orb, down the cane, and into Nate’s veins. His mind began to clear. The well of emptiness in his mind was being dried up.

“Where is Jobs?” Nate asked.

Brown eyes emerged through the darkness. The black vapors stopped rolling, and his face resumed its natural form. Nate wore his purple Atrian stripes and clear mind once more.

“Fascinating.”

Doctor Vasca’s words pulled him out of his serenity.

“I mean, I knew there was something to the Atrian crystal, but I never expected something so, so, vigorous. I mean, you look good as new!”

She took a step towards Nate, who took one step back.

“You’re right- you didn’t know. You didn’t know because you wouldn’t listen. Now, where’s Jobs?”

Vasca didn’t appear to even hear Nate, or she didn’t care. Still rambling on about the possibilities his cane could have, Nate didn’t pay attention until she mentioned him.

“... and of course, you’d be at the forefront!”

Nate blinked in confusion. “What?”

Doctor Vasca beamed, “This is a whole new level of potential to aid GAAP you have! One without the other is useless, but I didn’t understand the true purity of its power until now! Think of the possible advancements- faster communication, upgraded weapons-.”

“No.” Nate held out his cane as his own weapon. “I will not be used by GAAP anymore. You finally listened to me, great, but you won’t get a single Atrian to do your work. Now, tell me where Jobs is.”

“I’m so sorry, Nate…”

Doctor Vasca reached into her pocket, and retrieved a thin holoboard. With one press, the door leading to the observation room, and Nate’s freedom, closed. The click of it locking felt like someone had slapped Nate across the face. His back was to Doctor Vasca, it didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t escaping. That woman, that, beast…

“I wasn’t just going to give you the cane, Mr. Sharp. You were dying, and I was desperate. But it worked out for the better.”

Nate could feel her smiling, “You’re going to bring in a new age for GAAP. All the equipment you want... ”

Nate’s ears rang. Everything was buzzing. Little dots twinkled in his vision. He grasped his cane even tighter.

She lied to you. Darkness emerged once more, You were going to leave this place. You were going to forget everything, but look what she did! Think of what she’ll make you do! She made you dance like you were a puppet. The question is- what are you going to do now?

“... everything will be set right!” She exhaled, obviously proud of her speech, as if Nate had been listening. “What do you say, Mr. Sharp?”

Nate was on her in a moment. His hand was a vice grip around her throat. The pools of hatred were overflowing again, but he didn’t care. Hate, rage, power, that was how he was going to get out of GAAP’s Hell.

Doctor Vasca’s face and neck were red. Nate wasn’t holding on hard enough for her to suffocate, just enough to be uncomfortable. She gasped for air, and kicked at Nate in vain attempts to escape. Pathetic, just like her friend on the table. These people wouldn’t change. Their kind never do. So far in themselves, their “intelligence”, the belief that the odds justify every mean. All of it blinded them. Nate was going to let them see.

“Hmm,” Nate tapped his cane to his chin, as he had being a phantom healer what felt like decades ago. Phantom, maybe the street name had more weight than he had given it credit for. A shadowy figure, something you can almost see, but not quite. A being always in the edge of your view. He wasn’t Nate. He wasn’t “Mr. Sharp”. He was Phantom.

“You know what I say, Doctor Vasca? You want to know what I say? Well,” Phantom chuckled at her horrified face, “I say GAAP can kiss my ass. Also, I say…”

Phantom swung the top of his cane at the man on the table, knocking him out cold. Vasca’s eyes were wide with terror, “.... I say that was for Atria. Finally,” Phatom flipped his cane around in a quick circle. He dug the orb as hard as he could into the woman’s chest. It wouldn’t penetrate skin, but it would get close enough. Phantom began singing a bittersweet tune. He didn’t go so deep as to put the doctor under, just enough to do the job. He wanted to know what happened when you push an Atrian too far? He would show her.

A few sparks of white emerged from her lab coat, then a few more. The sparks condensed and merged until they formed three lines of raw energy- energy streaming from her heart.

Doctor Vasca tried to scream, but there was nothing anyone could have done. Phantom leaned in, “I say- this is for Mark.”

Her skin shrivelled and hung loose from the bones. Her eyes sunk into her head, the terrified expression in them never faded. Her hair turned gray and brittle. Parts began to fall in clumps onto the otherwise sterile floor. Phantom never looked away as the light, however tainted it had been, drain from her eyes. Doctor Vasca’s mouth hung open in a silent scream through everything, and it would stay that way.

Phantom dropped her mummified corpse onto the ground unceremoniously. He dug into her coat pocket for the holoboard. One click, and his escape route was restored. Phantom glanced at the unconscious man on the table. He wasn’t worth his time. The head restraint Doctor Vasca had secured prevented him from seeing Nate’s healing act. As for the good doctor- she was a smoking pile at his feet. The personnel and cameras? They were no concern. He would deal with the security footage on his way out.

Phantom looked into his crystal. Its once translucent interior swarmed with dark clouds. Gray energy surged off and on.

Stolen energy.

Phantom shook his head. He would have to deal with that annoying “still, small voice” later. Survival came first. Survival, and clothes. Phantom quickly wrapped up his bleeding arm, then turned to the still doctor on the operating table. He undid the straps holding down the unconscious doctor. He slipped on the man’s scrubs, fastened back the restraints, and covered the doctor with his old hospital gown. Might as well let him have some dignity when he woke up.  

As Phantom strode out the door, he recalled an old story from Earth. A tale of a man with a magic pipe. It was actually where the derogatory term “Piper” had originated for Atrians. So the tale goes, a man was hired to extract all the rats from a village. When the people refused to pay him, he used his pipe to lure the children away. Some versions say the children were never seen again, others say they were led to their deaths, another that they were returned after the Piper had been paid his due several times the original amount. 

Ascending the laboratory steps, Phantom finally understood why Atrians had been branded as Pipers. Not just because of their magical music, or that they used their gifts for work, it was something else. People thought they might end up like the rats, or the children. Racists referenced a potential murderer when they thought of Atrians. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps Atrians shouldn’t wear “Pipers” as a brand, but a badge of honor.

“Atrians are not a violent race.” Matt’s voice rang back in his head.  

“... but people are capable of anything in order to survive.” Phantom verbally retaliated.

Saying it out loud made him feel a little better about his past. All his actions were justified. He was trying to survive. Adapting to a changing, well, universe, it would seem, was what he was doing. Surviving during war got gruesome. That was what he was surviving- the carnage of battle.

GAAP had called Phantom to war. They had sealed off his planet, killed a friend, and had torn him apart. No, they had torn Nate apart, but Nate wasn’t going to war. Nate had been left in a dark cell where no one could hear him scream. Phantom had risen as the poltergeist to nip at GAAP’s heels. Phantom was the avenger of his people, his friends, and who he had once been.

Phantom would make GAAP sorry for what they had done to all those before him. He would be the hand of justice for those GAAP had wronged. He idly twirled his cane, the smoke from his black eyes slid like ice down his Atrian markings. Fresh, dark energy spurred him onward. GAAP would regret the day they saw his face.

[dustysculptures]

BronyCon Report 2018

With the last lingering bits of BronyCon still slithering in my system. I’m finally able to get back to business.

First off, I have less than a dozen Starlight Glimmer charms left from the con. I’m considering putting it up on my Etsy Store as the one & only item for sale this weekend. They will only be on sale for a week so be sure ‘em before they’re out~

Also, due to time constraints, I didn’t post an official 'Featured at Bronycon’ in time for the convention, so here it is posted above!

In case you missed it on my Twitter, here’s the Poniko () & Gari Adventures from Bronycon. (w/ a sketch of Limestone pie waking up): 

Let me start off by saying, thankyou thankyou thankyou to everyone who stopped by the booth & offered kind words to me. Even if I don’t seem like it, I’m forever & always a bundle of nerves & panic when it comes to BronyCon. There’s always so much to do & so many points of failure, it makes me go nuts for a couple weeks!

But all of that is laid to rest once the set goes up, the lights come on, and guests ushered in. We got prints & pins, sculptures & plushies. T-shirt designs that go as high as the ceiling.  Lets not forget the dakis. Oh god nvm lets forget those. Its a show! About adorable ponies! What’s not to like?

@ubros - Hotdiggitydang was it a blast meeting you! It was a year in the making as I’d skipped last year but I finally got to see you in your full European glory! We laughed, celebrated with pizza & oddities! Then you dumped 8 pounds of Swedish candy on me D: Wouldn’t trade it for the world! I WILL see you next year yes? You’d better come!!

@asksweetcream - Fancy seeing you here? (…) Moi? Oh nothing just seeing how many hugs I could get out from you~ (It was close to a dozen) (…)  Don’t tire yourself & Boiler3 out too much sweetie there’s so much more cons left to go ^^  

@earthsong9405 EEEEEEEE! Can you believe? 4 years its been since we shared that fateful booth? I’m sooo happy to see you there, flying solo too! Goodness! Next time we gotta do the aquarium or that Dick’s Last Resort! You’d get a kick outta it!

@dojerodesigns Listen. Forget what I said. I had a wonderful time with you & yours and would do it again in a heart beat. I’m very appreciative you thought to invite me to your shindig ^^

HoneySweetStudios - Honestly one of the sweeties & coolest booth neighbors I’ve had. Keeping each other company through the con lulls was a good way to keep up the spirit when the gates came flooding with patrons. Also, BEES?!?

@fisherpon - I wish you the bestest of luck on your trip to SEAsia~! I hope you enjoyed my sketch! it was done quick but Derpy is always my go to for that sort of thing ^3^

WandererD Gosh dang it man! I missed your panel & from what I hear, it sounds great. So glad I could take you to the new Shake Shack & I need to tell you about Land of the Lustrous & more Steven Universe! HUUUUUUUR! 

This is one of those moments where if you could rewind & do it again, I would do it & hang more with you. So much to talk & so little time. Why isn’t there a DVR for life yet?

@fleebites & RainyPaints - As some patron passed my booth, they had this gorgeous Queen Chrysalis print in their possession. It was love at first site: I had to have it. As it turns out, I had to have about half the posters from your booth as well. I was very happy to talk to you about Asian dialects & wish you the best of luck on your game developing venture! The art already looks beautiful, I know you can do it!

@askstalkerloo & @noodlefreak88 - I was finally able to get you that Stalkerloo that was meant to be yours oh so many years ago! Quest complete! I’m very excited for what you have planned for the future!

Cadmiumcrab -  Having the minister hold the Elements of Harmony book painted by you certainly adds that apropos touch to a brony wedding. I’d never thought to contribute to a wedding in such a manner. Hopefully see you around soon!

@joeyh3 & @deadparrot222 - Thank you so much for taking the time to stop by & chat for a spell. It does my soul well to see your faces every year & touch base with you guys. I’ll be seeing you next year right?

@ithry - I don’t know what psychic powers you possess to know I did sketch commissions but somehow you got two of them! Honestly, it was kinda cool to see you on the vendor side of things. I hope that’s been working out for you!

Graphic-Lee - Super cool meeting you to talk sculpting! I hope to hear more from you soon! Btw who was your booth mate? I believe it was Spirit but idk. Point me to them if you can!

@aleximusprime - One) Great to see you vending. Two) Hilarious to see all our meme merch sell out so fast! So glad you’re doing well~

Notable absentees: Chipperpony - I saw the name but the booth empty! I was so saaaad~! Maybe see you next year? Maybe?

@whitediamondsltd - There was a small bustle about where you were but upon hearing the info, I know you’re doing far more important things. Don’t let BronyCon distract you, you do what you need to.

BronyCon has always been a tentpole for dustysculptures. Being about half way through the year its a good gauge to see how I’m doing as a sculptor & how you guys are doing as well. There are also the milestones only achieved thanks to BronyCon: My first vendor opportunity, my first panel hosting, even my one time daily deviation was me putting together all the BronyCon ponies. So to see it leave next year will be a hard pill to swallow for sure. But like all good things are bound to end eventually. We’d joked about it from the beginning, the tenuous balance this community had in the beginning won through sheer exuberance & fraternity. Its hard to see the event go.

But I know we’ll make its send off a good one. We’re a community. Some would say the best one! Out lasting Homestuck & striving past Undertale, we’ve got a lot left in us. I know that should BronyCon go, there will be others. Should those go to then we will have each other & the memories we shared.

So until Next year Baltimore! Until next year BronyCon! For forever and a day~

~dusty

[wynndygoon]

1st Anniversary!

This will be sort of a recap post encompassing all of what has happened over this first year. So get ready, this will be a long post!

I started this blog shortly after I got my drawing tablet as a means to try and get better at using the damn thing. Needless to say, I think that it has been more than a success and has also been an amazing opportunity to meet all of you amazing people who have gotten invested in Noma and what she is and who she is as a character. And, while this past year hasn’t been perfect, it has been a wondorous experience filled with laughs and new bonds that frankly, I never would have made otherwise. Same goes to me trying out new things such as streaming, downloading Discord, and just flat out putting my art out there in this world for people to see and hopefully fall in love with.

So this whole blog, and the lady we all know and love, Noma, wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for chance. If you are new or never read the post explaining her past, the short version is: I had a Blaziken that hatched from an Egg in pokemon Black. It was a female, and I named her Noma, and it turned out that she had a bunch of good EV’s and IV’s, so I used her a lot through the game. Well when X and Y came out, I got the launch event Torchic that had better stats than Noma, so in a stupid move, I wonder Traded her away, hoping that someone else would like her just as much as I did. Fast forward a few months before I started this blog, and one of my friends traded me a bunch of pokemon since he didn’t really play much anymore. Long story short, he traded me back Noma. So while I had this idea about starting a pokemon ask blog, I never knew which pokemon i wanted to use, until Noma popped back into my life. As soon as that happened, I knew I had to make her my character.

So next came the design phase, and while I never was amazing at creating characters, I knew that I had to try and make her look unique to stand out from the crowd. And When I say unique, i think I went a bit too overboard with her, but at least we can still tell she is a blaziken, right? Anyways, I knew that I wanted to make her somewhat Tomboy-ish, while still having her be feminine as to not confuse people. I also knew that one easy way to accomplish this was to make her a little more fluffy and poofy, so believe it or not, I started with her hair design and went from there. I knew that if i could nail the hair, then everything would kinda fall into place. So that is why she has just SO MUCH HAIR, because form a design point, it was necessary. Also, making her wear clothes would help her stand out seeing as many poke-ask blogs leave their characters nude. Speaking of which, I am going to address something about Noma right here: SHE DOESN’T HAVE BOOBS ALRIGHT. I know it looks like she does, but since she has so many feathers and is very fluffy, wearing clothes would be difficult. So what she has to do is stuff her chest fluff into her tank tops, and purely because there is so much of it, it lumps up under the shirt. So all the people asking to see Noma’s “Chicken Breasts” ( those were some real asks BTW), sorry, no luck there.

________________________________________________________________

                   THIS SECTION IS ALL OF MY FAVORITE ASKS AND                                           REDESIGNS OF NOMA

So, now that I have the character created, It’s time to draw her and make a post on here. Im not gonna lie, that first night was nerve wracking. I didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going to happen, if anyone would see the post, or hell, if anyone would like it.

But here she is, the main attraction in her first appearance on the blog. Happy, inviting, and not nearly as fluffy as what she is now. For some of you newer followers, yes, this is how it all began. Notice that she isn’t as tall, or fluffy, or as vibrant as what you know her as, but yes, this is what everyone saw for a couple of months while I started out. This WAS her design.

So, with this outta the way, it’s time to answer some asks, but to do that, I had to think of her personality. So, I just made her personality be fun. someone who can be sassy, sarcastic, kind, loveable, and genuinely nice. It’s up to you to decide o how well that comes across though.

This ask was: “Why are you such a Boss Ass Blaziken?” and this is where I went into her story in a little more detail and made it feel more like a story rather than a simple explanation of events. It was  the first question I got and I had a lot of fun working on it because at least one person took the time out of their day to send me something.

Here is Noma explaining her Favorite Region that she has been to. And this was kind of a first for the blog since we got to see what she looked like below the crop top. And yes, its just a crop top with her chest fluff stuffed into it. Take note how much shorter she was when I started this blog. Like, I never realized this before, but for a blaziken, she was a midget. Also, can we just ignore some of the glaring anatomy issues here? I was still kinda working on her design here.

And here we reach the first Big re-design of Noma. While not much besides her hair changed, this was the part of her life that she started dyeing her hair different colors to make her design more unique. She also has a bit more of a neck and her hands are also more suited to a blaziken’s with the gray part instead of all red like the first post. In this ask, she was answering what her favorite past times are. Out of all the asks that I have done so far back then, THIS was my favorite to work on, just changing up her hair style felt so refreshing and  honestly makes her look so much different.

THIS. FREAKING. ASK. this was the one that started a bunch of people to harass me to essentially draw nsfw of Noma. At the time of answering this ask, I was midway through a show called Panty and Stocking, go check it out if you haven’t, it’s hilarious and really good. But the ask was: “What is your favorite hairstyle?” So I decided to have a little fun and I started out just drawing the hair to make the reference to Panty and Stocking, but I thought that nobody would actually catch the reference, so I decided to go big or go home and reference the entire character of Scanty. If only I knew what kind of hell I would have unleashed for the next few months. Despite all of the perverted asks and messages I received, this was an insanely fun ask to draw, and it was also a challenge to try and recreate Scanty, but in a Blaziken form. Also, notice how her hands reverted back to red. I never said I was consistent.

So that slightly NSFW ask was the last actual drawing i posted for quite a while because then, I started college and was so nervous and scared and focused on doing well that i just didn’t have time to draw or play video games because of all the stress. I would literally wake up, go to school, go to work, come home, and sleep. and that was it. My next few posts actually weren’t Noma related, so I won’t cover them.

This was the first ask I had for ASK MAGIC which had Noma’s type change to water for 3 asks. Each of these weren’t all that exciting, but I am including this here because it was a milestone for the blog that NO ONE HAS USED SINCE! HINT HINT.

This wasn’t an ask, just a drawing idea I had for Halloween. She is still rocking her crazy hair with 3 different colors now and frankly, I have no idea what I was thinking giving her a rooster comb AND and ponytail, but hey, it works. SO if you couldn’t tell she went as a rooster for Halloween and her hands also magically changed back to red. But she also dyed her chest fluff in the shape of a heart which was another small design change.

HERE SHE IS THE FIRST MAJOR REDESIGN THAT ACTUALLY CHANGED SOME STUFF ABOUT HER. First of all, she doesn’t have the weird red neck that she had that just made her chest fluff look glued on, her fluff is on the entirety of her neck, and her neck is now longer, giving here a taller appearance. I also changed the look of her chest fluff to look like it surrounds her from behind also, and I changed the fluff on her face here too. Sure they may not be the biggest changes, but they made her a hell of a lot easier to draw and i think made her look better overall too.

This is just a better look of her, and is also my icon. See how she looks less like a midget and more graceful? The re-design was for the greater good.

This ask was SUPER fun: “My last ask was mean, but if you could choose any other type, what would it be”. This was when i could encompass all of what made Noma, Noma. The new redesign looks flawless, and we actually got to see an almost full body drawing of Noma. Glaring anatomy issues aside, I still really think that this was one of my better works of Noma.

I had a Thanskgiving ask set aside to put here, but I am really not too proud of that one, and also because it was during the time when I lost my grandmother, so I’m just going to leave it out so I don’t get too emotional about it.

You think I would have learned my lesson about showing Noma in anything REMOTELY NSFW, but nope, here we have her in her underwear. The ask was: “I am liking this new look!”  and yeah, I tried to go for a cheap visual gag, not only in the fact that she isn’t decent, but also in the name of her boxers. American Eagle in the pokemon world would more than likely be Unovan Braviary, like come on, that’s comedy silver at best.

Look at this Eye-sore. I tried to do a candy cane look wit her hair, but I think it fell flat and looks too busy. But the Ask was: “Do you have any jewelry?” While this doesn’t look as good as I hoped it would have, this was certainly a lot of fun to draw.

This was my absolute favorite non-ask post to draw because i used my actual ugly christmas sweater to design hers. I know the perspective is off here, but that is purely because of the angle I took the picture at.

THIS COMIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE BLAST TO DRAW, PLUS IT ALSO INTRODUCED NOMA’S LOVE INTEREST, EM, WHICH IS STILL A PART OF THIS BLOG SO SEND HIM SOME ASKS PLEASE. ALSO I DO NOT OWN EM, HE IS A CHARACTER OF BANANAMUTTBREAD, SO GO GIVE HIM A FOLLOW, HE IS AN AMAZING PERSON.

This was a difficult drawing to do, not because of the characters, but because of the shading and lighting, and yes, I know, its not the best, But I am still very proud of it nonetheless. But, yeah, this is a mash up of Lethal League which is an amazing game and Noma. The reason I chose Candyman to draw, was because he was simple, and because he is a pain in the ass to fight against.

By this point in the blog’s life, I had just bought my dog Bella, and started a new semester at college. With my toughest classes all piled on top of each other, i didn’t have much time to draw, so there wasn’t much to be posted then. However, I did introduce a new character, not a pokemon, but instead a bee character I came up with. Her name is Grain, and she is super cute, so go check out the art i made of her!

With me posting again halfway through last semester, the first ask I got was about Noma’s hairstyle. To be honest, I have no idea what kind of style that is, so let’s just move on.

Oh boy, my first piece i did on stream. This was another small redesign I did just to get back into the swing of redrawing Noma and making sure I could remember how to draw her. also, I tested out a new form of shading that I really like and will probably continue to use from here on out.

[dramarising-replacement]

callout post: light vs shadow

hi – im a shadow member who moved over to light. i am personally curious as to light vs shadow in terms of structural differences; for that i turn to the comparison between the two flight’s forum experiences

—– general discussion—— shadow: 6 threads, including 1 obligatory mod-intro thread. stickies:

a note on necro-ing threads.

shadow’s link hub. 

newbie introduction thread

shadow-themed resources (art, banners, etc)

psa about dominance 

light:4 threads, including 1 obligatory mod-intro thread. stickies:

an address to newbies & transfers.

light’s link hub (addressed as services/guides)

light’s registry to ping users with certain roles.

—– sales —— shadow: 6 stickies.

art club thread (gathering for artists)

familiar collectors.

food kitchen

lair expansion initiative.

an adoption center for dragons

rent-a-l25-derg service.

light: 7 stickies.

familiar collectors.

baldwin mats trading

food kitchen

swipp’s user swap item stand; looks like there’s freebies?

rent-a-l25-derg service.

free leveling service

raffles psa thread

—– dominance ——

shadow: 8 stickies.

fodder sales hub

treasury

dom mentors

teams assignment thread

battlestone bank

dom101 thread

militia hub

dom101 thread, but for newbies

light: 4 stickies.

vault

dom archives (rly neat guys)

dom101 thread

fodder sales psa

op notes:

sticky count: shadow has more, and imo a few of these stickies are redundant or may be merged together for more cohesion/cleaner forums. light’s stickies are shorter, neater, also their emphasis goes to sales forums (they’re cash oriented, after looking around for a bit. i can see that)

liveliness: shadow feels kinda dead, where light is more active. goes w/o saying that light has more active members, but also even if shadow has a bunch of active members too, they’re definitely not talking much

general discussion: re shadow, i dont think posting in a 750-page intro thread is very homely/friendly, and there’s no official greeting thread/message for new members which makes it feel unlived in/uncontrolled, also the newbies intro thread kinda feels like a link hub as well, which feels kinda strange imho – for light, they’ve got a psa to newbies and transfers, i especially like the social section that explains and links the slack/irc, clean gd also helps emphasize on the discussions happening w/ users

sales: re shadow, i personally dont know why the l25-rentals are there, nor the art club – i especially like the lair expac initiative, though whether its to be stickied in the first place is debatable – sales is more light territory though, baldwin mats trading is new with the intro of baldwins cauldron, and swipps stand feels like a nice easy way for newbies to experience trading and/or having a bit of pocket change in their hoard – really like the raffles psa thread

dominance: no clue why shadow has 8 stickies, good job on dom mentors + battlestone bank, very concerned at the dom101 threads (why are there two of them? the one targeted towards newbies doesn’t really address how the dom system works in shadow (teams vs militia vs lone wolves) while also disjoining newbies from more experienced users, which may feel degrading? also the other’s header is changed to recent dom psa’s, so its not even a dom101 from a glance) – light’s small number of stickies also helps in emphasizing events made during dom, which are always [tagged] (i appreciate that) and the dom101 thread really communicates the flight’s goals and aspirations, absolutely lovely

more notes, but now more personal and not based on forum stickies:

im a big fan of light’s ping registry honestly, because it’s a really easy way of signing yourself up for knowing what the community is doing and it works for nearly everyone and everything in the community because it’s targeted for everyone (and everything) in the community – great job light

while i personally understand the adoption center’s role, idk if i’d put it under sales in shadow’s terms, especially stickied

there’s actually a lot of things in shadow’s forums that don’t give off the feeling of dom-oriented (which is okay! its definitely not the way to go if the flight wants to go in a more-dom-please direction, and its not very efficient either because at this point i cant tell what the flight wants to do – it might as well be plague’s wasteland lorewise)

treasury wise i dont know how much shadow has, but i know what light is doing (kudos!) which makes the system very transparent – i really like how you guys have an investor, the existence of their position + efficiency is personally my favorite part about joining light

s/o to shadow’s mentor system because having a personal mentor is good help – id definitely suggest cobbling together a definite dom101 and a centralized dom strategy plan though

also what is up with teams vs militia hub vs lone wolves? the latter’s images are broke btw

light users asking for how they can help out in the dom community gets a bit of helpful replies, while on the rare occasion that shadow has them there’s only a simple paragraph + direct answer at best – the thread is ignored at worst, i am personally worried about that – re shadow, your mentors can also reply to them to give advice btw

deep respect to two of the dom sticky threads in light that were made by the same person because it shows that you guys either have a committee dedicated to dom or you are all really active – both of which are great

its quite confusing for shadow to know what is happening in their dom weeks, at best team hubs and lone wolves are more active – in light there’s a designated thread (with a tag!!! also a standardized naming convention) for conquests, and it makes everything so much easier to read up on

also shadow keeps remaking team hub threads so uh thats a thing

light actually has chats for buying/selling fodder and im personally very impressed im in love with your organizational skills

light knows what they want (money) and they’re structurally organized for it, which makes their spirit unconquerable and infectious, so kudos to that!

if shadow wants to change from being the one pitied/picked on, they’re definitely going to have to go through structural changes (and stay organized!!! please) the more accessible and transparent information and organizations are the better it feels to be working with them

also focusing on a thing that defines shadow is good to building a flight reputation – light has their money, arcane has their world building, lightning has their spreadsheets – if all shadow has is edge, look to the future and rock that edge hardcore! 

tl;dr: op pokes holes into the organization of light vs shadow’s forums, light is a dope flight because they know what they want and build their flight’s lifestyle around getting what they want, shadow needs to start from scratch, come together and ask themselves what they want, and what it is that shadow can offer that is unique to shadow. and then go for that. after cleaning up their forums.

[playeroneplayertwo]

The Village Green Preservation Society (Village)

Over the past few years, Inka and Markus Brand have been on fire. The husband and wife designer duo have, in the past three years alone, released the lovely dice-placement racer Rajas of the Ganges (2017), come out with their own sprawling take on the legacy game in The Rise of Queensdale (2018), and played their part in changing the hobby forever with their remarkable Exit series (2016-?).

But if you roll back your calendar a few years, you’ll find a lovely gem of theirs about simpler times. Rather than escaping certain death in Exit or building a grand and majestic estate in Rajas of the Ganges, you are, well, just living your life. Train to be a wainwright or stableman, make your mark, live a long and hopefully productive life, perhaps join the city council or the church, and leave a legacy to be remembered in your small town forever.

Simpler times, indeed.

Village (2011) Designed by Inka & Markus Brand Art by Dennis Lohausen Published by Eggertspiele

Village is, at first glance, a fairly meat and potatoes euro about following four generations of your family through their simple lives in a small village. At its heart, this is a fairly straightforward resource management and conversion game. And yet, unlike so many similar games, there’s a little more than just picking up cubes and converting them into goods–although that’s certainly in the box, as well. Village is proof that the Brands’ inventiveness is no new thing. In addition to cubes, you’ve also got to grapple with time and its slow march forward. Every action takes time, and as time moves forward, those young’ns will grow, eventually becoming well-respected elders, continuing to age until they die and either become part of the village chronicles or are buried in the cemetery and are all but forgotten.

Lowdown (How to Play–in a Nutshell)

Before you ask: yes, it’s about points. Points, points, points.

Colored cubes and action selection combine to define Village. A certain amount of cubes are mixed randomly in a bag before being randomly distributed among a number of action spaces. On your turn, you will take a cube from a space, put it on your individual player board, and then you may take the action from that corresponding space. Each action will have a cost in time, and time is kept on a circular track on your player board.

The colored cubes will accumulate, and soon you will be cashing them in when you select an action in order to convert those cubes into different resources in the form of tokens. One color cube, however, is a plague cube, and if you choose (or are forced) to take a black action cube, you must advance time further.

The actions, which I’ll cover only briefly, are all similar variations on a theme–essentially resource conversion or selling items for points. You can take bags of grain in a harvest (another resource you can convert later or sell to market), grow your family (adding another meeple to your personal board), travel beyond the village (use wagons you’ve made to visit locations for bonuses), craft (cash in your cubes or grain to make wagons, plows, wagons, or buy/raise horses or cows), join the village council (points!), participate in church (points again!), and go to market to fulfill orders by selling your goods (the most points!).

In addition to simply trading in cubes to get other goods like plows or wagons, don’t forget you’ve got those meeples. You’ll often also deploy those meeples as family members to a particular location to make it easier to do that action in the future–essentially because you have trained them in that craft. The idea here is that the second time you need something, like a wagon, you’ll be able to go to your Auntie Edna or Uncle Pete, now trained as a wainwright, and get a wagon spending only time, rather than spending those precious cubes you’ve been hoarding.

When you’ve advanced your timekeeper far enough, however, one of your oldest generation-meeples must die. Slightly macabre, perhaps, but arguably realistic. Those family members will either take one of a few spaces in the village chronicles (for lots o’ points!), or be buried in the village graveyard (for no points!). After the village chronicle or graveyard is full, the game ends. Most points wins.

Tea for Two (Scaling for Two Players)

Each aspect of the games is scalable, with the village chronicle having fewer spaces for two players vs three or four, as well as fewer cubes and fewer market orders for fulfillment. In a two-player game, you’ll have a lower likelihood someone will take a cube you’ve been eyeing, but beyond more limited screwage–which is normal for a two player game vs a three or four player game–scaling is very good here, not really altering the experience at all.

Death to My Hometown (The Bad Stuff)

The mechanics here are very sturdy, albeit typical, euro fare. Take a cube, do an action. Take a cube, place a meeple. Take a cube, convert cubes for tokens. Take a cube, sell tokens. Rinse and repeat. This is a reliable game engine, built on an equally reliable chassis. Many of the actions feel comfortably familiar: harvesting for grain (take a resource) or the “family” action (put out another meeple from your supply), market day (sell for a variable market tile aka convert goods to points). About a half-dozen games immediately come to mind that rely on very comparable actions, and the reliance on cubes here abstracts these actions further, moreso than some of the others. The rulebook states (and I had to look this up because I don’t remember this at all) that orange cubes represent skill, green cubes persuasiveness, brown cubes faith, and pink cubes knowledge. I like that the cubes have some representative analog, but once you play, they completely lose any semblance of meaning beyond their color. A game like Clans of Caledonia (2017) has similar actions (build things, sell things), but feels infinitely less abstracted. Action-wise, Village is not reinventing any wheel.

The other hit Village will take is on the graphic design. A meat and potatoes euro game designed in 2011 looks–today, at least–very dated. It has all the attractive graphic design of a shag carpet and lava lamp. Ten years in board game graphic design is 30 years in fashion or interior design. Board Game graphic design still remains a vulnerable spot in the armor of a great many euro classics, and in that regard, Village is no different. Some publishers have learned a lot since 2011, but even today, Eggertspiel isn’t known for its flashy look. Village is a prime example of their perfectly utilitarian–if nothing to write home about–art and graphic design.

Local Hero (The Good Stuff)

I’d heard a lot about Village prior to playing it, and after reading the rules, I was a little confused about some of the more effusive praise that had been heaped on it. The mechanics are so… generic euro. After playing it, though, I realized something remarkable about it: Village is greater than the sum of its parts.

Being a person of slightly above average cynicism, perhaps, I find it rare to say that about a game. More often than not, I hear about a game and get excited–whether that’s because of the designer, mechanics, theme, art, or some combination of all–only to find the experience of playing it somehow less than the sum of its parts.

So why does Village succeed where other, more immediately engaging or interesting games ultimately fail?

For me, in a nutshell, it’s because of the time mechanic and the familial/generational development. Somehow, a game with a fairly bland and only moderately well-implemented generic euro theme (farming/working in a town/selling stuff, etc) manages to build a story as you play. The story I’m referring to is not actually in the game, mind you. This game does literally nothing to create a narrative for you. There aren’t even basic event cards, like This month there is a storm! Oh no! Better stock up on grain to sell so you don’t starve! Rather, somehow, a story manages to slowly and unassumingly coalesce for you as you play. Let’s say on your first turn you take a meeple and invest the time to train them as a stablehand, becoming skilled at raising horses and cows. You begin to sell your cows at market, and with cows, you’ll be well on your way to a much better harvest, because you’ll now be able to plow for more crops. With more grain, you can fulfill orders, or take those bags to the mill for money (aka points!). Or maybe you’ve got a barfly Uncle (with the expansion, Village: Inn (2013), at least). Maybe he was, over the years, able to buddy up, over a weekly shot and a beer perhaps, with the bigwig Count, guaranteeing that you’ll get more points at the game’s end if someone else in your family is able to visit him by traveling to his faraway castles! Excellent!

Oddly enough, this kind of thing is also present in other games. Giving a meeple a profession does not a story create. To put my finger on it, and I don’t want to sound maudlin, but for me it’s that death mechanic. I’m not exactly a softy, but is remarkably effective, to say nothing of affecting (although that’s may be a slightly-strong word). Your nameless meeples are bestowed with something akin to preciousness as you’re forced to usher them to the village chronicle, or more unfortunately, the graveyard.

Ultimately, there’s something ineffable about Village, something beyond the simple mechanics of it. There’s something remarkable here and worth exploring.

The End (Final Thoughts)

I was a bit flowerier than usual in The Good Stuff, because it’s hard for me to say what works so well about Village, but to turn back to gamier terms, there’s lots of great and satisfying strategy here. Lots of tactical decisions, lots of scrambling to meet objectives, errr I mean market orders. Lots of dilemmas, lots of time management–never enough time, btw–to say nothing of never enough of those dastardly cubes. There’s a lot to manage, but never so much that it becomes overwhelming. There’s new stuff here, but not enough to be daunting or difficult to manage, and it’s a game that is just welcoming enough to be taught to new-ish folks to the hobby. And the time, again, that time. For every first or second generation that you drag your feet to remove from the board, equally interesting is how you may, at times, rush these folks through their lives in hopes of sneaking them into the village’s chronicle before someone else.

So much of this game feels expected, but it’s surprising how much one little wrench can do to the works of a machine and ultimately defy all of your preconceptions. My first impression of the Brands was formed in playing Exit, which duly impressed me. Upon playing Village, however, I was delighted to learn that their seems to be no end to their ingenuity, and I will be keeping an eye out for anything that bears their name.

Player One Eric

[one2findout]

My Big Announcement

It seems that every so often I get carried away with the availability of some new technology that calls to me like the Siren called Odysseus. I can’t resist. The first major case of this was getting a new, more expensive, smart cell phone. I had a very nice “flip-phone” for several years. It made and got phone calls, a primary use of a cell phone. It cost me $35 and was easy to slip onto my pocket. I liked it. It didn’t sing, dance, or allow me to play “Angry Birds.” It was a phone.

 Then, along came Uber. A perfect add-on career for my retirement situation (needing money) and completely under my control: “Drive when you want for the time you want to drive and make tons of money in your spare time.” Sounds great!

But! you have to have a smart phone, a small computer to give you the path you would have to drive, take the payment, all automated for the happy Uber driver. So, I shopped around and my cell phone service provider had the best pricing for a moderately powerful unit. I think it was one of the “left overs” as the manufacturer was switching in newer, more expensive, powerful and function overloaded phones. I signed on, and started researching how I could become a happy Uber driver. Perfect!

 Then I hit a very interesting road block: reality. As I researched I found more and more that Uber, which serves a very desired service, and one which makes a lot of sense from time to time for the public, had its dark side. I was in Georgia for my son’s wedding. Everything worked well. After the event and following evening, he called for an Uber to pick me up at the hotel and whisk me to the airport. In the morning, there was a bit of a problem connecting with the Uber driver. I guess I’m a little hard to notice. Anyway, when Uber came it was a pleasant trip to the airport, and all prepaid by my son. Nice. Then I heard from my son that the driver had taken longer than he should have and took some weird path to the airport. My son called Uber and they said they were giving him a rebate since the driver had done the drive wrong. I find this amazing. They knew how long he took and what route he drove, etc. Like magic, they have all the information they need to run a great business. But, after analysis, I have come to the end point to believe that the drivers don’t really make as much as it would appear. Hourly, at any rate, I can’t afford to become an Uber driver.

Fortunately, I’ve been doing calligraphy for many years (over 50). I did it free for organizations and political parties, personal events, and so on. My seating chart for my son’s Bar Mitzvah was great (a torah scroll with the attendees seats, written on a model scroll that I built). So, it was a new revelation that people could make money selling art and products they create. Etsy! and there are several others, I gather. I discussed this with my son and he said we could set up a “store.” He would do all the planning and I would do the calligraphy. I started studying how Etsy works, how you get a sale, how you send out a product, etc. Etsy makes it all pretty easy, and I can see that there is a lot more under the covers that you have to do to understand what you have to do to get results you want.

 Along with all this is the requirement (at least from my point of view) to produce a high quality product that people cannot get easily on the open market. I, for example, hand create all my calligraphy, do all the design and layout, work in various hands, and can customize anything in many ways. How to communicate all this and do the jobs and get the product out is a real challenge. As starters, my son had me research what were products more people wanted, and in what sizes, and what hands, and papers, cost out all the elements, and then get busy and create an inventory of some calligraphy that would be our store’s starting products. Whew, this was a lot. As we worked on this I found I needed to have some tools to handle the work I do and produce final products that would be the best I can do.

 There turn out to be a lot computer programs that would be of help to us, including things like having shared and synchronized data points that would keep us on the same efforts. Thankfully, my son knew that kind of thing because that’s what businesses do, and he’s an MBA from Pepperdine. And it’s the kind of thing he does in helping people set up new or renewed businesses. My background is in computers, so finding and evaluating programs to do what I need to do graphic processing wasn’t a big problem for me. I found a lot, and as I found them I read a lot of reviews and analyses of them. Then, I had to find, test, and use them myself. I learned a lot!

After seeing all the really great programs, and some of the most expensive, I have found a flock of “free” programs and services that I could be using. The learning curve on some of them is pretty sharp, mostly because they have so many ways of doing all kinds of graphic processing, and the language used in describing them to the user is an unknown argot to me. So, I am learning, trying, and amazed at all the things I have to absorb and use properly. As it is coming along, it is streamlining the work I do, and makes very good products at a pace that makes them available relatively quickly, compared to what I used to do in the old days. I have pretty much settled on Krita (a free graphics program similar to Paintshop Pro, which I used in past years for editing my photos, and Photoshop which I can’t afford) and I’m looking at ipiccy, which is an on-line graphics program that runs in your Chrome browser, but puts you work in the ipiccy servers. Until I understand the complete meaning of that I won’t use it.

 Anyway, this is a long trip, and we are just starting. It takes a long time to expose people to your work, and the Internet is a gigantic place (a universe) and getting them to look at my work is a daunting task, which I have to figure out. We are starting to get some “looks” at the products, and have even sold a few which our buyers have said they are pleased and happy with. Since the startup investment isn’t overbearing, I am pleased to see anything working. As each day goes by I learn more and more, and I am willing to try things that I am just beginning to understand. I’m even starting to look at “trade shows” where I can display some of my work. Maybe that is another thing to learn about.

 And all this is because of high tech. If I was living in a small town, where social media was a weekly column in the newspaper, and you already knew a lot of people from daily contact, it would be a handout, maybe a sample, and word-of-mouth to build a following. In today’s world it’s Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and what else is out there that are like my new smart phone replacing my flip-phone. I have to learn the new stuff to make my way in the world. This blog is my “flip-phone” stage of reaching out. I guess I’ll have to move on. BTW, that media I listed above are things I have never used more than a few times each! I haven’t figured out yet how to use them, either.

 Look out world, here comes my store: LabowCalligraphy on Etsy. It should have said “Father and Son,” which is “Gary and Dave.” If you have a moment, just take a look at https://www.Etsy.com/shop/LabowCalligraphy and see if you like it. I’d love to hear from anyone with comments on the store. Thanks.