#rare instance where i actually draw 2 eyes..

[raptureshots]

pretend i said something REALLY funny here okay <3

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

— [ touch grass ] //

nerd!antisocial!pining!neo x fat!f!popular!reader; college au

CW: non-mutual pining, reader is fine with herself but aware of society’s beauty standards, nsfw, Neo is kind of a weirdo but we love him, meant to be a oneshot/imagine but might become more

dividers by Saradika

When you first meet Neo, you understandably think he hates your guts. Seems like he’s always glaring, and never really making eye contact. Which is fine, not everyone’s gonna like you, so you grant him distance.

You’re sweet, social, take up space. People might make fun of you for it, because fat girls aren’t supposed to be outgoing and happy, apparently, but for all those who look down on you, there are twice as many who love you. You have lots of friends, and he doesn’t.

Neo’s always by himself. Reading, or on the computer in those rare instances where he has to show his face in public. You can’t imagine anyone enjoying that; being alone for even a second makes you uncomfortable, so you don’t comprehend how he prefers it.

You try to set him up with your friend, even going so far as to introduce them in the library by dragging her over to his seat at the computer. He regards you wearily. The bags under his eyes have seen much better days, and you almost want to ask him, in your caring nature, if he’s sick or something.

Your friend, she’s just like him, prefers online over inperson, and you can already tell this was a horrible idea. Not only are they embarrassed, but you are, too, when you reflect later about how neither of them said one word as you basically babbled enough that even if they wanted to they couldn't have.

Now your friend is mad at you, and now you can tell Neo hates you even more. You try and apologize and he ignores you, favoring the keyboard and screen. Later that day, you drop your books and he watches from a distance as you pick them back up, glaring at you. He’s supposed to be your project partner and he doesn’t show up for lab

Then, he’s out of classes for the next two days. Okay, maybe he really is sick. Or, maybe he changed schools because you’re such a giant bothersome sore.

You’re thinking about the long apology you’re going to give him if you ever see him again—which is undoubtedly going to make things worse but you justcanthelpit—chewing on the tip of your eraser nervously, when he walks through the science lab door and sets his stuff next to your seat.

Despite the discourse, and your thoughts avalanching into a squirming pile of anxiety over the past few days, you beam at him. “Hi, Neo, I’m sorry about—“

He smiles and waves you off. “It’s fine, I had the flu.”

What he won’t say is…the flu was actually:

1. You on the picnic blanket outside in your shorts and tank top, laying down with your other friends and enjoying time between classes by giggling and poking at one another. 2. Your tits, plump and ripe, that even sweaters fail to make modest. 3. You pursing your lips and bending over the beaker, trying to pour the right amount of chemicals needed in order to not fuck up the mixture while looking at him helplessly with those pretty, pleading eyes—the ones that are always wet from your joy or compassion, the ones that prevent you from wearing mascara lest it be smeared down your apple cheeks before lunch time. 4. You, looking so soft and so touchable. So cluelessly fuckable. 5. You, caring about his wellbeing. Asking him about himself and trying to set him up on dates. He’ll gladly act like a charity case for your attention. 6. You, making him so hard and frustrated and flustered he has to run to the bathroom midday and afternoon just to tug some of the tension out of his cock. 7. You, the reason he can’t sleep. The reason he stays up all night writing and drawing and programming a computer program to mimic your likeness.

He took those two days off to recover from your newest stunt. To patch his heart back up and tear his cock apart thinking about how fucking lovely and hopeless you are, and how he just wants to bury himself in your soft, wet warmth and never come back to this shitty plane of existence again. “Oh, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” You touch his arm, just above the elbow, a comforting hand that makes him shudder from toes to hair tips as his mind immediately wonders what that sinfully soft feeling would be like on his chest, his cheek, his renewed, throbbing erection.

Well, fuck. And here he was thinking those two days off were actually going to help.

[mci-writing]

My Life is Like a TeamStarkid Play, But Less Terrifying (Rise!Leonardo x Fem!Reader) 1/???

A/n: Hi. Just gonna preface a little with a general note that the reader is part alien. It is an integral part of the story for later and it will be brought up quite a bit. Just based on past tmnt iterations and their relation to aliens and space which Rise lacked up until the movie (and, even then, still lacked). The two songs used here are both from The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals: What Do You Want, Paul? and La Dee Dah Dah-Day respectively. I recommend listening to them so the flow of the scene sets a little better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: language use, sexual references, musicals, some dark humor but like tastefully in a theater kinda way, this series is very reader-centric Word Count: 5.4k Kofi

Part 2

Fingers anxiously tap, tap, tap at a bedazzled binder, the label, ‘PLAY IDEAS’, is peeling at the corners. Teeth nervously nibble at the dry skin on the bottom of the owner’s lip, stopping when she inevitably draws blood again.  

“If you keep gnawing away at your lip like that, you won’t have one left,” The voice next to her spooks her out of her trance, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she straightens. (Y/n)’s face quickly drops as Leo pokes her cheek, her (e/c) eyes meeting his shit-eating grin. The accompanying red-eared slider happily slides into the metal chair beside her, arms resting on the backs of the chairs beside him, “You’re worrying too much, senora. Your drama teacher would be insane not to use any of the spicy ideas brewing in that mind of yours.”

“I wouldn’t say spicy…” (E/c) eyes slide down to the binder between her fingers only for it to be snatched by three long and slender, green fingers. They follow to a smirking Leo, the mischievous glint in his eyes sparkling a little brighter as he shakes it to and fro, which he stops at the slight sound of a paper plausibly tearing, “Though, I won’t get to share them if you mess them up, Leon.”

He purses his lips, blowing through them and making that weird horse whining noise, as he sets it in his lap and flips through the pages (which all luckily seem intact, thank fuck). He stops occasionally to analyze a few, his exaggerated faces giving her no true hint of what he’s thinking. His humming with each page doesn’t help.

It’s not like the pages are anything special or filled with over-the-top, never done before ideas, but they at least provide an idea of where to take whichever play they decide to pick for the semester. It’s filled with mainstream big plays, with hopes that the big names will draw more of the student body to join, and plausible proposed budgets that the school’s faculty would easily agree with (going off of her mother’s industry metrics-). There were also margins and pages filled with mathematical equations estimating probable costs that only Donnie or a very determined and a little too excited drama student director would notice. Leo is more than positive they teamed up on it in some way.

He lingers on a few pages, which she assumes to be the more eye-catching ones or the few musicals he actually knows (courtesy of the girl next to him). She doesn’t miss him quickly moving past the big number pages and extra gibberish that only those in “the business” would understand. It’s a rare instance of him being completely silent as he analyzes the pages. It only heightens (Y/n)’s worries about the quality, but she distracts herself as she moves her (e/c) irises to linger on other details and aspects presented to her at this moment.

A good bit of his features are obscured by his admiral blue winter hat and matching sweater while his jacket hangs over her chair (she isn’t sure when he managed to put it there). Not even the most perceptive of people would pick up on the exposed parts of his face being reptilian shades of green in his current getup. Then again, she’s more than positive the turtles could very easily pass as people when they cover their shells (something she has bared witness to so often), especially in the melting pot of NYC. She does miss his crescent moons, hidden away by the felt of his hat, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid lingering questions. Without the shit-eating grin, his face is mischievous enough that you would assume he’s always up to something, which isn’t necessarily an off assumption, but (Y/n) just knows when the wheels in his brain are turning from years of experience.

“Alright, done!” (Y/n) doesn’t realize how close she is until his head turns to face her, the two mere inches apart from each other as opposed to the slightly bigger distance they had. It definitely throws her off a little, but Leo remains unphased as he continues, “Looking through this thing only proved my point further. You possess the sauce-”

“The sauce?” (Y/n) asks with a tilt of her head, somehow managing to take the binder back into her arms and holding it close to her chest, “What the hell is the sauce?”

“I have no idea! But Mikey’s used it enough times for me to confidently say that you have got it, whatever it is! Mama Celeste will be so proud, (N/n),” She’s now 100% sure he mistook Mike’s cooking speeches as some new lingo, but she’s not allowed to dwell on that for too long as she hears the voice of her drama teacher calling her to his office, “That’s your cue. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

She stands to her feet, taking a deep breath as she turns her attention to the office. She stares for a moment, feeling the nervousness creep up her spine as the binder in her hands gains thousands of pounds. With a shaky step forward, the deep pit in her stomach reminds her of literally everything hanging on her gaudily designed book. Of course, any other time she’d be reminding herself that any of the musicals they choose is alright and that any of her ideas being turned down isn’t the end of the world, but she can only focus on the fact that this is her senior year and anything going wrong feels like the end of the world to her. 

She feels dizzy in worry, her throat going uncomfortably dry. Her breathing slows and, to any party outside her mind, she looks like a deer in headlights as she stands staring at the door. Her heart rattles in her chest-

“Heey, Mamacita! Chill out,” Green fingers settle themselves on (Y/n)’s shoulder, tugging her into Leo’s chest as a reassuring grin graces his features. Their cheeks touch as he stares straight towards the door, his fingers on his other hand softly gripping her chin and keeping her eyes on the door, “You know all the business insider secrets because of your mom. Don’t let them go to waste. Ya’ve got this, (N/n). Go in there and rock it like you know how.”

His words actually manage to calm her, her breathing evening back out as she slowly regains her confidence. The small feeling of nausea remains but is slightly tolerable now.

“Plus, as much as I love the laser light show idea for The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, Hadestown will probably be a hands-down legend for this school with the right vocal lessons. But that’s just me.” Annnd now she knows his biases from her creative selections, “Knock ‘em dead, tigresa!”

He gives her a light push through the door, leading to her stumbling and falling on her ass in front of her teacher. He doesn’t pay her much mind, barely looking up from his paperwork. 

“Ms. Brown. Good evening,” He gives her a bit of a hand wave before finally looking up, “Ready to discuss this semester’s play?”

“Yes, Mr. Sherma” She quickly stands to her feet, suddenly very self-conscious of her grotesquely decorated binder as she holds it to her chest, “Yes, I am. And, this time, I brought an idea book to explain my ideas a little better!”

He holds his hand out for it, delicately handling it as he brings it to lay on his desk. His fingers are nimbler than Leo’s as they open the pages, flipping through them with careful precision. His eyes linger longer, the scene playing out similarly to earlier.

He occasionally brushes the parts of his brown hair back, his eyes, tired but curious, scanning each and every detail. She’s reminded of some of her classmates joking about him looking like a Renaissance version of a particular Twitch streamer.

The only time it’s obvious which ones he’s interested in is when he looks over the proposed budget pages a bit longer than others. He hums and mumbles, not shy from making noises of displeasure at certain pages. She’s pretty positive she hears him mumble ‘cringe’ at some point.

(Y/n) awkwardly sits in one of the many chairs in his office, her fingers lightly tapping against her knees while her feet make little kicks. Her brown orbs glance around the room when she feels she’s been looking for too long. Various awards line the walls, some for students whose names she recognizes and others she’s maybe heard in passing. She recognizes a few of her own, not fighting the small smile that comes to her lips at the acknowledgment of her work of the past few years. The walls are also decorated with pictures throughout the years of performances and practices past as well as the occasional goofy memory, some a little hard to make out with the dying light of the assorted lamps.

“This… idea binder is full of interesting ideas, Ms. Brown, but they don’t tell me what you specifically want to do,” Mr. Sherma sighs as he closes it. His blue eyes meet her brown ones, an intensity behind them that she can’t read, “Each page has a lot of detail and potential, but none scream with desperate want, you know?”

She grows nervous, feeling herself start to sweat under his gaze. She tosses his words around in her mind, but it doesn’t make it much clearer, “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“What do you want, Brown? Tell me what you desire to see. Your deepest intent, Brown,” She feels herself flinch when he suddenly stands, her back pressing deep into the chair as he leans forward and sings at her. She never knows what to expect from her drama teacher, but the operatic sounds that leave his mouth aren’t it, “What do you see for this production? I’m looking for someone with strong ambition, someone to sell their specific vision, someone to share with precise precision their thoughts. ‘Cause I want you to want… To want!”

She’s thrown off further once he begins walking around his desk. He stops once he reaches the front, comfortably leaning against the mahogany with little disregard for its old and thin nature. He crosses his arms over his chest as he stops, looking down at her, “So what do you want, Ms. Brown? What’s the one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

(Y/n)’s lost at his sudden questions, her head naturally tilting as she stares back at his determined gaze with equal confusion. Her face scrunches up, eyebrow lifting. He doesn’t elaborate, again, so she doesn’t even know how to begin to unpack all of what he’s pushing for.

“I don’t think I have one of those?” She finally manages to wrangle up, giving her teacher another one of her nervous, closed-eye smiles.

He remains quiet for a moment, staring her down for a bit. She opens her eyes once she realizes he hasn’t said anything, awkwardly maintaining eye contact as he doesn’t exchange immediate words. She can feel a grimace starting to form while his face remains stony.

“Well, then, how’s anyone supposed to sympathize with you, Ms. Brown?”

“Huh? I don’t know…” Her mouth gapes open at that, but she quickly closes it to think of literally anything she could plausibly list. Most of her current goals involve catching criminals and living to make another day? Understanding her powers a little better and maybe her family heritage some? But those aren’t necessarily things many of her peers could relate to and sympathize with, at least, not in the way she has to deal with her goals. She thinks hard about some common goals that most high schoolers have, “I want what anyone wants…?” She thinks really, really hard, “Money, a partner? Kids, someday, maybe?”

Mr. Sherma nods his head at that, turning to face his desk. (Y/n) relaxes a bit, thinking that maybe, just maybe, that would be the end of it-

HE JUMPED ON THE DESK?!?!

“What the fuck?!”

“I want you to want, Brown! A girl so vague just can’t be trusted! Something you pine for, maybe someone who keeps you lusted.  I’m just a boss, I’m not an idea guy! I hire you kids to keep our plays ripe. But if you can’t pin the point that’s in the skyyyyy!” 

He starts to dance with ease, ignoring the resistance of his desk’s legs as he does a smooth spin in the middle of the surface. His footwork is delicate, fancy, even. (Y/n) finds it hard to even focus on what’s being sung at her as her eyes glide behind his movements. He stops in the center, sliding to his knees and pointing his right index finger in her direction while his left-hand rests on his chest “Then I want you to want, to want!”

“Sir?!” She can’t fight the laugh in her tone as she calls out, equally amused and heavily confused at this turn of events. She literally can not pinpoint why in the known universe he is singing at her, especially this song of all things, but she can’t lie and say she isn’t severely entertained.

“D’you know what I want for myself? I’ve waited for so lo-ong to tell somebody else,” His tone drops, becoming more somber as he manages to rhythmically set himself down from his desk. He grabs the picture of his wife off his desk, his head tilting as a fond look comes to his eyes, “Carol, my wife, you’re my muse, my source of light. Carol, my love, I want you to choke me out at night…” He plops himself down into his chair, longingly staring at the photograph of his wife, “I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me while I jerk off… I want you to choke me while I… jerk off.”

(Y/n) sits up at those words, a discomfort settling in the pits of her stomach and sinking further down. She doesn’t fight down the look of shock in her eyes at the admission, nor is she able to stop the noise of confusion she makes, “Um, sir-,”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Sherma presses the call button on his office phone, the beep loudly sounding through his small office. He leans over, a dazed look in his eyes as he stares forward, “Melissa, get my wife on the phone for me.”

(Y/n) quickly gathers her bags, reaching for her idea binder, “Mr. Sherma, I think I should leave-,”

“No, (Y/n), I want you to hear this,” He tugs the binder closer to him, not sparing her a glance as he adds, “If you leave, you’re fired.” 

It rings a bit before Mrs. Sherma answers, “Carol! Yes, everything’s fine, I promise. I just wanted to tell you something…,” He freezes, his dazed expression growing horrified as he stares forward, past the expansion of the messily decorated walls of his office into the inner turmoil of his request weighing on him, “I, uh, I forgot what it was… Maybe someday I’ll remember. Goodbye…”

It remains quiet after that. (Y/n)’s gaze remains downtrodden as she contemplates and processes how she was thoroughly traumatized by the shame of her drama teacher, but also not surprised by his antics. Mr. Sherma, however, was mentally suffering with his inability to tell his wife his deepest desires…

She looks up in time for her (e/c) pools to meet with despair-ridden shades of blue, the latter widening as Mr. Sherma rises to his feet and dances around his desk.

“Ms. Brown, now you know what it is to want!”

“I want to go home!” 

“It consumes a man with a passion to drive the primary plot,” His verses speed up as he ignores her pleas, “So take up yoga or improv classes. Volunteer at shelters or twitch to the masses.”

(Y/n) takes her gathered bags while he’s distracted.

“There’s gotta be something to keep my hands off you. Off youuu”

She manages to slip around him and grab her binder, holding it close to her chest.

“‘Cause I want you to want!”

“I’m gonna get some… coffee? Do you want anything?” (Y/n) manages to ease to the door, her hand struggling to get a good grip on the door.

“No, I need you to want!”

“How about an iced caramel frappe? Nothing better-,” The door magically opens for her just as her hand gets a good grip on the door. It drags her forward, causing her to lose her balance.

“And if you don’t want…” He freezes, taking a deep breath before releasing the highest note he’s hit that (Y/n) has ever known him to, “We’re throughhh.”

A soft donk sounds as her forehead meets a hard plastron. Scaly, strong arms wrap around her waist, holding her up. She isn’t surprised to find Leo above her with his signature, though more slightly confused than usual, grin. She raises her hand as she shrugs, nudging her head towards their exit and grabbing his hand to drag him through it, “Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Sherma!”

As the two leave, they hear her teacher call out for her, hitting one last high note as they push through the auditorium doors. It only encourages (Y/n) to pick up her pace, leading the turtle through the halls toward the exit.

Leo is rightfully confused, especially when (Y/n) doesn’t elaborate on it in the slightest.

“Are we going to talk about that orrrrr?” He attempts to nudge, his hands coming up and crossing behind his head. He leans back into the hold, his eyes never leaving her form as they walk the streets of the neighborhood around the school.

He feels his breath hitch when she turns to him, undeterred by the grimace on her face when the light escaping from the sun’s rays meets the color of her eyes. He hears her response, but he finds himself more focused on her mannerisms as she animatedly fumbles through explaining what went down. Her (h/c) hair bounce with every step, just as animated as her, but still relatively deflated from the exhaustion of her instructor and the heavy plush of her pink winter hat.

“This almost was not worth giving up my shift for,” She finishes, bringing her fingers up to her lips to breathe on them. A pout takes place on her plump lips as she digs in her jacket pockets, slipping her gloves on, “He started singing about wanting and wants when all I want now is to make back the tips from Run of The Mill. We didn’t even pick anything because of his weird song!”

Leo finds himself only able to nod as (Y/n) continues to grumble the rest of her rant. He had only really heard the last bit of what was going on, but that was due to him deciding to investigate after hearing some weird screeching and shouting. He didn’t actually expect to find her being held hostage by her singing teacher, but it aligned pretty well with the few things he’d heard about Sherma from (Y/n) and April. Even now, he feels the man is something unreal entirely.

He takes the binder out from between her armpit while she’s distracted, her ramblings turning into muttered gibberish that he can very much still understand. He starts flipping through the pages again, his face softening as he stops on a page of distracted doodles he hadn’t noticed on his first run.

(Y/n) was no artist, by any means, but she was damn good at creating a scene of stick figures. Some showcased plausible blocked scenes and others were silly little things like a chibi version of herself squashed under a rock labeled ‘Drama’ in her fanciest cursive or exaggerated versions of their friend group doing severely ambiguous poses.

As he goes to flip to the next page, the hums of people on the street reach his ears, but his companion has stopped her ramblings. She’s stopped altogether, staring ahead with a bewildered look.

 “Carolers caught your attention, (N/n)?” He asks as he looks up from the book to her, a smirk dancing along his lips as the quip readies itself from his brain cells, “You can’t judge them too harshly for being a tad bit pitchy, y’know. Not everyone can hold a note by ear.”

The teasing was worth it, especially with the deadpanned expression she gave him in response. However, she shakes her head as her thumb and index finger grip his chin, pulling him down to her level. Their faces are mere inches apart and Leo can all but feel all the warmth spread through his face, “They’re all perfectly dancing in sync.”

He doesn’t exactly process her words, his eyes going smaller as his lips form an O shape, “What?” The words do slowly jog back up with his brain processing, laughing at her statement, “I’d expect them to be dancing in sync if they’re all caroling. Would be a little embarrassing if they put a whole dance together and all ended up doing their own thing-,”

“No, Leo,” Her fingers turn his head forward as she speaks. Her hold is firm enough to keep him there, yet soft enough that he doesn’t feel like his skin is gonna tear off as she directs him, “Look at them all in sync. Everyone…”

And just like she said, everyone on the street had been humming and dancing in sync to the same tune. No one seemed to be a pitch-off or a step out of line as they filled the streets of midtown New York.

“Holy shit…,” He mutters out, eyes the size of saucers as he takes it all in, “Was there some block party announced that we don’t know about or something? Flash mob, maybe?”

“For it to be this big, impossible,” (Y/n) mumbles back, releasing her grip on his chin as she also continues to take in the sight of the sea of bodies.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah!”

The crowd separates down the middle, continuing to shimmy and sway in tandem. A lone girl remains, bundled up in a big puffer jacket with a green vest over the top of it. Her right hand rightly grips a clipboard and the recycle sign on the left breast of her vest is just barely visible through the crinkles of the uniform. She’s suddenly belting out words, the widest grin on her face as she bounces for a few beats, fist happily pumping in the air as she perfectly centers herself between the crowd.

“Just a typical day, that’s got me feeling in a beautiful way. No rhyme or reason,” She starts, pointing at some random person in the crowd, “We could sing a duet, dance a style or two. Or I’ll make you a bet, just a smile will doooo.” 

She does flawless chaines before going into a sly, Italian fouetté. The duo flinches at the precision, their eyes trailing her moves. It really does nothing to give them context, but they can’t really complain when they’re already so enthralled.

She ends by raising both hands towards the air, feet spread as she belts to the sky, “Sometimes I just wanna shout on top of roof and mountaintops. All the world is paved in goldddd.” She lowers her hands as she holds the note out, tossing her clipboard off into the crowd somewhere. She places her now free hands on her hips as she walks along the lines of the crowd, hips bumping to the beat of the music, “Yesterday was retroactive, got myself a new perspective. I strut it up and down the road.”

“If the fighting climate change gig doesn’t work, she’d totally rock Broadway,” Leo comments perfectly between verses as they get a little closer to the action on the streets.

The girl stops her strutting right behind them, both arms resting on one of their shoulders, “So I throw out my worries and my old skin away,” She gives them both a little shove forward, nodding her head before doing a pirouette en dehors, “Doing what I want to do on this la dee dah dee daaaaaaay!”

Both teens stumble with (Y/n) catching herself by setting her feet on the pavement and Leo grabbing his arm as she’s steady. The girl stops spinning as she holds out the note, the folks in the surrounding area joining in midway through. The crowd begins to form a circle around the girl, Leo, and (Y/n), joining hands as they skip around them for a bit before changing directions and skipping the other way.

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd releases their hands in exchange for clapping on the beat, perfectly moving their hands in tandem with one another. High right, high left, low right, low left which each other word of the chorus and clapping on every word for each straight ‘La dee dah dee day’ 

The girl gives them both a high five before running out of the crowd as the circle disperses. Everyone on the street continues to hum and step on beat.

(Y/n) and Leo turn to each other, equally dumbfounded at the event transpiring around them. They still somehow manage to remain in the middle of the chaos, even as they attempt to weave through the crowd in search of the nearest manhole cover.

“What the fuck was that?” (Y/n) finally asks, turning to the blue-clad turtle as he fixes his ruffled clothes to hide himself a little better. 

Neither are really watching where they’re going when Leo accidentally bumps into a homeless guy on the street. He panics, straightening the guy before he can teeter much, “I’m so sorry, sir,” He quickly begins searching his pockets, “Here, let me see if I have any-,”

“Hey, man that’s cool,” The guy happily replies with a smile, seemingly ignoring the change that jostled out of his tin can, “‘Cause I may not have a home, but that’s way okay. ‘Cause I prefer to roam the streets all day.”

He sings in the same cadence as the girl from before. The crowd of people turns towards them, doing the heel-toe around them on the beat to the song, every other row going the same way while each row in between goes a different way.

“The world is my house, the dogs are my food,” A small dog scampers past, “Oh, look— a new blouse!” He lifts a newspaper from off the street, his face lighting up as he runs past them, “And a new trash can tooooo!”

(Y/n) steps closer to Leo, his arm immediately going for her shoulders and pulling her closer until she’s flush against him. Her hand immediately grips his jacket in an attempt to pull him closer. They’re unable to keep their eyes off of him and both are a little too petrified to move from where they stand. The guy skips around them, raising his hands into the air and lowering them the longer he circles.

“I used to want to kill them all while high on bath salt zombie drugs and snacking on a dead man’s face,” He stops and stares at them for a little too long, his glare shifting around to every person dancing around them as he does a little, slow spin in place. He stops before a bright smile lights his face, “But that just feels like yesterday! This song takes all the pain away. My politics and house views changed.” He does a little dancy dance to emphasize his point, “Dancing on the concrete used to hurt a lot, but now I got new feet and this jam’s just way too hot!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd around them all lift their hands to the sky as they sing the chorus again, waving them to the beat with a small step every other note, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day! La dee dah dah day!”

(E/c) orbs spot an opening, her mind counting each beat it opens up. She steps away from Leo a bit, getting a grasp on his arm as her narrowed eyes keep a close watch on her path of escape. Her compadre starts looking through his pockets again, a grin on his face.

“I have literally no idea what’s going on here, but this is so cool!” He manages to pull out a five, happily setting it in the homeless guy’s tin can, “That’s all I’ve got for right now, but I’ll totally keep more cash on me in case I run into you guys again tomorrow.”

“Leo, come on,” She manages to pull him through the crowd just in time. It’s almost comical how easily she tugs him along through the rows of dancing New Yorkians, “This is the second dance number I’ve been forced to sit through today-,”

They continue to weave through the crowd, the clear street beyond the dance mob seemingly beyond their fingertips. (Y/n) keeps a strong grip on Leo as she leads the way, while he remains amazed by the group's movements around them. 

Just as they reach the end, the girl from before lands in front of them. She’s regained her clipboard, which now rests tightly in the palm of her hand. She takes a deep breath before she sings out a call, “Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Of course, you want to save the planet!” The crowd calls back, freezing in place to stop and look back at her.

“Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Well, there’s just one way you can do it!”

“By singing a song!” Without warning, the girl begins cartwheeling toward the center of the crowd as they sing back at her. She stops a moment to sing with them, “Singing along!” Before immediately going back to her cartwheels. The crowd goes back to singing the chorus as she does, every other row overlapping with the other

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!” With each row she cartwheels by, the ensemble turns back towards the center. They continue to repeat it a few times, changing the lyrics up just as she hits the last row, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day… Away…”

The girl does a flip in the air as she reaches the center, landing on her feet perfectly with her arms raised in the air and her clipboard intact between her fingers. She lowers herself to rest on one knee, belting out one final, “La dee dah dah”

Each row of the crowd falls to their knees one after the other aligned with each word she sings. It’s almost creepy how synchronized their moves are. They finish the song off in unison with a final, “Day!” Everyone holds the position for a few beats before getting up and moving along with their day like nothing just happened.

The two remain standing there after watching all of that happen, equally confused and mesmerized by the events that just transpired before them. Leo is by far more amused than (Y/n). He turns to her with a knowing grin as he takes in her face.

Her mouth is held open, has been since the girl cartwheeled and flipped back to the middle. Her eyes, while not the size of saucers, hold an intrigued gaze in them. Her grip on Leo’s arm loosened in the midst of that, her hand now limply resting on his inner forearm as opposed to tugging it forward.

“You’re gonna catch flies, (N/n),” Leo teases, his index finger hooking under her chin and slowly pushing it upwards. Once her mouth closes, he tilts her chin up towards him and their eyes meet. He doesn’t fight back his grin like he does the warm feeling in his cheeks and she doesn’t miss the way it rises as he catches sight of the soft flush in her cheeks, “You wish your classmates were that in sync.”

She huffs as she walks ahead of him into the alleyway, waiting for the streets to clear before pushing the manhole cover aside. She sits against the entrance, looking at him a little annoyed, “Yeah…” 

She jumps down into the sewer hole and activates her flight ability just in time to float to the bottom. Leo climbs down not too far behind her, touching the pavement a few minutes after.

[whatsinyourstory]

Motivations to adore Used Books

Used books are heavenly, they're ancient rarities of social history, bits of workmanship and cherished scholarly belongings all simultaneously.

Here is a couple of things to appreciate:

1. Dry, rumpled spines and very much dealt with, hence all around cherished youngsters' books. Beautiful to consider how frequently the book has been perused. Was it part of an assortment? Was it the main book the past proprietor or proprietors had?

2. This book has a place with...

I love seeing a name, written in youngster's composing particularly, scribbled in a book. It provides the book with a feeling of 'having a place' and appears to be intentional, and confirms the youngsters' book some way or another. A name assists with envisioning the kid, the past proprietor. We have practically the whole 'Thomas the Tank Motor' book assortment, with the name 'GUTUM' ( in some cases a blend of capitals and lower case) scribbled on each cover inset. I love that this was GUTUM's assortment, and we've figured out how to hold the books together, joined by their past proprietor.

3. Cover insets, old ones particularly, a prelude to the story inside, laying the right foundation in an unconventional fantastic manner. I like it when they're stain filled and written on, as I feel I'm taking a gander at an image that was once gazed at, examined and modified by tired youngster eyes and grimy little fingers.

4. Irregular kid drawn numbers: you find this a ton in recycled LadyBird Books I find, simply the sheer rationale of this mystery message from a kid's brains eye, and how this then, at that point, bewilders me, the grown-up peruser, such an extremely long time later. What did they mean by this. What's the code? What was the youngster attempting to say...if anything! It's a perplexing secret, that is probably going to be rarely settled.

5. Furthermore, along these lines, the very much ready, good natured youngster write. I think this is my #1 of the relative multitude of motivations to see the value in used books. I particularly love furious dark felt tip jot like those above as it's actual last, extremely long-lasting and positive. I can likewise envision the kid who crawled off and 'altered' this book thinking 'I'll get you terrifying canine, take that!' I think these changes are so aesthically satisfying, so significant, and profound. They're bits of genuine craftsmanship. Maybe I ought to set up a craftsmanship presentation showing all of my used book pulls, showing the furious verve of the kids and felt tips of this 'age' 😀

6. Old books! You can get a few actually quite old, wonderful books in cause shops, for instance. I like taking a gander at the various strategies for restricting, and the various inks, and

avocations and print type textual styles. The book above is from 1947-quick post war England! How old is the first proprietor today? What was their life like contrasted with now, and when did

they part with this book? As far as friendly history, a need to wear recorded gloves, these are valuable and interesting things. It's a priveledge to run over these old tired books. I like to give them a relaxing retirement, some place where they'll be protected and cherished once more.

7. Lastly, stories that have left design. A portion of these truly odd stories, with the creepiest of outlines, genuinely interest and captivating the present youngsters. We have an exceptionally odd first release, perhaps independently published book from the 1980s about a witch and her shadow. The kids love it, in spite of thinking that it is new and frightful. That sensation of dread, is in someways, part of the allure and draw. We read this book, The Kindling Box, this evening. The components of the story are all extremely dim, and there doesn't appear to be an ethical string, with the exception of the reality the warrior gets what he needs from killing a witch, taking care of a show kid, and wedding a princess. It's very reviving then, at that point, to peruse something quite a lot more like reality, than how the glossed over current youngsters' fiction, would have us accept.

Buy Secondhand Books From Best Used Books Store Online Now!

[gw2calendar]

Tyria Pride 2021

Added the Tyria Pride 2021 event to calendar.  Can’t wait to attend!  :D

Per the forum post:

Tyria Pride 2021 will be happening on June 26 & 27, on both NA and EU servers!

■ What is Tyria Pride?

Tyria Pride is an annual event that celebrates the LGBTQ+ community and our allies both in-game and out, and raises funds for Rainbow Railroad, a non-profit organisation which helps LGBTQ+ people around the world escape state-sponsored persecution and violence!

It's a 2-day event with a 6 year history, as part of which we'll be walking from Ebonhawke to the gates of Rata Sum in Metrica Province, hanging out & having fun while raising money to leave the world a better place than we found it!

■ When / Where?

The event takes place over two days, and will be held on both EU and NA servers.

Start locations:

• Saturday, June 26: Ebonhawke (at the portal from Divinity's Reach)

• Sunday, June 27: Lion's Arch (at the Field of the Fallen)

Start times:

• EU: 16:00 CEST [14:00 UTC] • NA: 4 PM CDT [21:00 UTC]

We tend to start marching about 15 minutes past the hour. Despite this, to get into the correct instance without any issues, it's recommended to be at the location at least 15 minutes before the hour.

■ How to join?

To accommodate everyone coming to the event, we'll have multiple volunteers helping everyone get together, and will be taking over multiple instances of the same map. Each instance can only take about 150 people, so not everyone will be able to fit on the same instance. Our volunteers will be opening LFGs to get everyone onto a number of maps.

One way to make this simpler and to get in touch with volunteers more easily is to join the Tyria Pride discord, at tyriapride.com/discord! As the event draws closer, we'll include a list of volunteers here that you can contact in-game as well!

Please note: Do not open your own LFGs, please wait for organisers to open theirs so that you can join on a map instance with an organiser on it. Due to how the megaservers work, just because you are in Ebonhawke / Lion's Arch, it doesn't mean you're with the organisers. That's why it's a good idea to arrive into the map before the event start time!

■ How to get involved?

The success and scope of Tyria Pride depends heavily on help and volunteers from the community! If you wish to help out, there are several ways you can do so:

• Volunteering: Volunteers help out on the day of the event by helping ferry/taxi everyone into the correct instance between maps, guiding the path, fielding questions & providing information (which you'll be provided as a volunteer in the form of copy-pastes). A commander tag helps greatly with this but is not necessary.

• Streaming the event: Streaming the event is a great way to spread the word! This year we'll be compiling and highlighting a list of streamers that will be attending the event, so if you're planning on streaming the event, let me know!

• Contributing in-game prizes: One of the ways that we encourage donations to the Rainbow Railroad fundraiser is by doing raffles of in-game prizes. In the past, this has included legendaries, rare materials and fancy skins! If you can contribute anything that you think might be a cool prize, get in touch!

• Spreading the word: The most important thing to any event is visibility! If you can spread the word to your friends, your guild, your grandma, your estranged cousins, share the event on social media, talk about it at brunch with your co-workers, explain it to your cat! For quick information, here's a promo image you can share!     If you want to get involved, either as a guild or as an individual, the best way to do that is to join our discord at tyriapride.com/discord and get in touch there, or contact me in-game at Lelling.6795 via in-game mail!

I also want to give a very special shoutout to  ❤ Gamers Giving Back  ❤ who are supporting the event with both volunteers on NA side and prizes, for the fourth year in a row! GGB are not only great supporters of Tyria Pride, but also organise other in-game charity fundraisers throughout the year such as the Pink Day in LA cancer fundraiser in October and the MS Toga Party for multiple sclerosis! Check out their amazing work at gamergivingback.org!

■ Fundraiser

But wait! We're not just talking the talk, we're also walking the walk, and we want to create actual change and improve the lives of LGBTQ+ people worldwide, so we are, as always, running a fundraiser for Rainbow Railroad, an organisation focused on helping LGBTQ+ individuals escape persecution and violence.

We'll be posting the fundraiser closer to June, as well as sharing it on other social media, so keep an eye out! Just like every year, those donating to the fundraiser will be able to participate in raffles to receive both in-game and out-of-game rewards!

■ Contact

If you have any questions about the event, feel free to ask them here on this post! I'll be checking it regularly and doing my best to reply to any questions! You can also join the Tyria Pride in-game guild, but note that the guild is inactive throughout the year, and is only used as an infopoint to let people know about this particular event. If you're looking for an active LGBTQ+ guild, the Tyria Pride event itself and our discord are a great place to look!

In-game contact: Lelling.6795

Tyria Pride discord: tyriapride.com/discord

[mk-wizard]

Sailor Moon 90s Anime is STILL the best

Hi. I know I am on a Sailor Moon binge here, but after seeing all of Crystal, Eternal and on R (season 2) of the first anime, I want to get this all off of my chest... and before I go further, since these are all animes, I will refer to them as 90s, Crystal and Eternal. And after watching them all, I have to say that the 90s takes the gold medal as the best Sailor Moon anime so far and this is why;

1- It had the best pacing. - While I admit that sometimes, it went too far with the filler, 98% of the time, it worked with the 90s. It took its time to make you get to know the characters for better or for worse, it made you see different sides of them, it gave them a chance to truly develop and be multi-dimensional, and it made you care about them. When a death happened, it felt tragic. When a victory happened, you cheered. And when you saw what side characters did, it mattered. I mean, who can ever forget the contribution 90s Naru Osaka had to the story? And everyone who has seen the 90s anime cannot forget her. More on the character development and getting to know characters later.

Sure, it wasn’t true to the manga and even the characters had different personalities, but I let that slide by because when Crystal and Eternal did follow the manga to the letter, we didn’t get a chance to digest anything. The only characters who develop are Usagi, Chibi-Usa and the outer guardians, and for the last bunch, it was the bare minimum. Crystal and Eternal were fun rides and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like them, but they were like roller coasters. They gave you a thrill, but fast and been done. The 90s was like a slow scenic ride that gave you surprises, emotionally touched you, made you cry, made you laugh, made you root for the heroes and even at the age of 37 years now, I keep rewatching this series.

2- The art of the 90s was better because it was sketchy, dark and edgier. - I know Sailor Moon doesn’t seem like this on the surface because the heroines are lovely girls in cute costumes, it emphasizes femininity and all things pretty, it has a romantic theme and is all about love, but Sailor Moon is also one of the darkest, grittiest, edgy and violent magical girl animes I have ever seen since Magic Knights Rayearth. Sailor Moon has on screen deaths which were permanent most of the time, on screen stabbings and the drawing of blood, and fights that got so hardcore, that real punches and kicks were thrown. The dark edges, black line art and sharp edges worked with the atmosphere of the story. I mean, look at the difference between the halls Dark Kingdom of the 90s (above) and that of Crystal.

And if that is not enough to win you over, the characters were much more animated, organic and conveyed more emotion whether they were exaggerated or serious.

In Crystal, the expressions and body language was very dulled down. Not to mention, very stiff.

Everything is also too bright and soft which makes the characters look like velvet dolls with too much make up especially with the line art. I will give them props for adding better details, cleaner lines, the glow of magical items, and details in the gems, but everything else is all wrong.

Eternal was better, but still not quite there. The colours are still way too bright and the characters still look too much like dolls from having line art that is too wispy. And I really do not like how the eyes have this unnatural glow to them. The edgy scenes become lost with all this brightness.

3- We got to see that there was so much more the characters than just heroes or villains. - Since Usagi is the titular character, let us just talk about her in the 90s since I could go on forever about how much we learned about the characters. In any version of Sailor Moon, Usagi’s role as a Sailor Guardian has always been the core of the story and she does indeed show progress as one. However, the 90s tells us that no matter what, she is still going to be herself too which is just as important and she shows character development as just plain old Usagi too. The manga, Crystal and Eternal which only paint Usagi as not doing anything right except be a Sailor Guardian, but the 90s show her hidden talents and learning new skills. For example, she was bad at cooking at the beginning of the series.

However, by Sailor Moon R, she gets the hang of it and is able to cook a meal by herself. Yes, she is messy, clumsy, never gets the hang of making cookies and is nowhere near Makoto’s level especially when it comes to presentation, but she is good at cooking food.

Another hidden talent of Usagi’s is her drawing skills. She isn’t just good at drawing. She’s got talent at it, so in the 90s, Usagi is quite the artist.

And it is admirable that 90s Usagi is open to trying new things even if she isn’t good at them. She practices, she explores and tries to enlighten herself. Sure, academics, coordination and organization will never be her fortes, but she really does have other and tries to discover more.

In Crystal and Eternal, she is good at being Sailor Moon, she is a good friend and a good girlfriend, but that is it. She is one dimensional here and she isn’t the only one to painted like that. Everyone is only the obvious and that is all the audience gets.

4- Better character redemption. - I mentioned before that Sailor Moon had grit and was dark, but the 90s also made it more complex and did character redemption right. It was open to the possibility of bad people becoming good. For instance, the Black Moon Clan Specter Sister are unforgettable for being successfully redeemed.

Yes, I admit that the monster of the day would get killed by the hands of the Sailor Guardians, but they also clearly showed that the monsters were not people or even alive. They were made of energy, clay or sand. When the monster of the day was a possessed innocent, they were saved through exorcism. Very rarely was an actual person ever killed and even when they were, it was either by the hands of another villain, their own hand, self defense or as a last resort. They never used killing as means of dealing with every single bad guy.

Furthermore, the bridge arc about the Makai Tree that also served as a prologue to Sailor Moon R could be seen as a story about mercy, kindness and love. It stands out as the one time the big bad was actually a misunderstood big good being the Makai Tree herself. And even Ail an An were never bad, but were raised bad. And even then, they changed. This story is unique only to the 90s so far, but it was great and stood out for that reason.

In Crystal, the heroines will kill a person without a second thought which I am shocked that no one brings up how repetitive and contradictory that is. The pretty warrior of love and justice should by all means protect the Earth, but doing so by killing off the bad guy all time is not love or justice. I also think the caption in this picture sums up how I feel about how the one and only time bad guys were given a chance to be redeemed...

Eternal was better because the Asteroid Guardians got redeemed and saved. However, even then, I feel like there is still a double standard. They were one of the good guys to begin with and Sailor Guardians. In the 90s, the Amazoness Quartet wasn’t, but were given a chance to change anyway. I find it cool that the Quartet turned out to be Sailors and even better that they will go on to become Chibi-Usa’s team, but mercy is not just for your allies or for your own benefit. Everyone should be given at least one chance to fix their mistakes.

5- We got to know Mamoru better. - I admit that no matter the incarnation, Tuxedo Mask will never be as powerful as Sailor Moon except when he is King Endymion, but the 90s take on his character made him better even if they did omit his super attack being Tuxedo le Smoking Bomber. What the well dressed masked man lacked in firepower, he made up for in intelligence, insight about the enemy’s weakness, courage and skill. The only times he ever did get overpowered was either by bad luck or because it was intentional because he was taking a hit for Sailor Moon. And even then, he always got back up. He’s a real man like that.

More importantly, we get to know him as Mamoru too. Even before he confides being an amnesiac to Usagi, we see his struggles with feeling alone in the world from having no memory of his life before a tragic accident which also killed his parents. Now, him being a stern cynical person makes sense because I probably wouldn’t be pleasant to be around either if I lived with that. Once his walls come down, we see that deep down, all he wants is to belong somewhere and have a family. It should also be noted that 90s Mamoru doesn’t love Usagi because he is “destined” to. He loves her because he wants to. Even during that brief period where he broke up with Usagi was an act of love. The thing I also always liked best about 90s Mamoru is that even though he loves Usagi more than life itself, his life doesn’t revolve around her which is a healthy thing and he tries to encourage Usagi to be the same way for her own good. He is studying to be a doctor, he has a job and he even has his own crowd which I think is great.

In Crystal and Eternal, while I do see an attempt at trying to follow this trend by showing that Usagi and Mamoru were on their way to falling in love even before they got their memories back, I still find he was one note and we never really learn much about him that has nothing to do with Tuxedo Mask, Endymion or anything royal related. Sure, we know that he’s studying to be a doctor and is a genius to an extent too, but that is it.

I would like to end this by admitting that the 90s was not perfect either, but out of all the takes on the tale of Sailor Moon as of date. Crystal and Eternal were ok, but they just cannot stand up to the quality of the 90s. The only thing I can say I find Crystal did better than the 90s were the costume designs. Specifically, how they let Venus keep her chain belt, Pluto’s key chain belt, Uranus and Neptune’s shorter gloves, Uranus’s sword, Uranus having two earrings, Mercury’s suit is shoulder less which I always found suited her better, and I liked Sailor Moon’s brooch and necklace better in season 1.

And even then, I should have liked it if Jupiter’s antenna was always on display as it is just something I always found cute in the manga, I liked Mars’ five point star earrings better in the 90s, and I like how in the 90s, each of the Inner Guardians’ sailor stripes were a little different.

Of course, this is all my opinion. I would like to hear which of the animes did Sailor Moon right in your opinion and why. Thanks for reading and stay safe, and have a great day.

[phoenotopia]

The Last Phoenotopia Blog Update

(Date 2021 MAR 01)

I debated how to open this blog post, but perhaps the main crux of this blog post is the best place to start. The blog is being retired.

The purpose of this blog was to be a "development" blog for Phoenotopia, and well, Phoenotopia's development is done. I'll still be doing bug fixes and maintenance on the PC and Switch versions, and playstation and xbox ports are underway (by a publisher). But I'm not going to be making any more major changes to the game. At some point, you put the paintbrush down and say it's done. Blemishes and all.

Recent Events

The game launched on Steam last month, and like any launch, it was hectic. Bugs Galore. This is our first commercial PC launch, so it was a real baptism by fire. Unlike Switch's one configuration, the PC has multiple configurations and factors to account for. The game needed to be able to handle multiple control schemes, screen resolutions, refresh rates, and more! I had a 60Hz monitor going into launch and didn't know anything about Hz (I do now). There was a troublesome stutter that some players were sensitive to that my whole team didn't notice since our eyes compensated it away. There were a few times where in fixing something at one party's behest, it introduced problems for another party. A few times, due to disorganization, I unwittingly rolled back a fix that was meant to be applied. For some, the game couldn't play at all (really glad Steam allows refunds).

It was messy. It was tiring. I.AM.BEAT.

I think the worst of it is over... I'll still be around to do the last updates and bug fixes, but I'm ultimately ready for what's next.

SO what is next?

What isn't next... is Phoenotopia 2. As you may have heard down the grapevine, the game couldn't be what you call successful. No one's earned even minimum wage on it.

Maybe there's hope in the game's long tail. A year or two down the line... maybe. I won't hold my breath though. At some point in the past few months, I finished processing (or grieving) and it's time to move on.

The game has at least earned enough for us to continue our modest operations. As long as we don't expand the team, and we don't take another monster six-year dev cycle like what Phoenotopia took, we can continue. We'll have to be smarter and faster. Perhaps the most valuable thing we gained from all this is experience.

The Experience

It is a dev blog. Here are some of the lessons I've accumulated from this game's development.

- Have a good menu design. Menus aren't just that in-between fluff before you get to the good stuff. Menus are KEY. Your menus need to be robust, expandable, and *understandable* (to you, the developer). Because once the game's out, you will invariably be asked to add more options. And if your menu design is bad, every time you have to add a new menu option, it becomes a whole new pain all over again. Support mouse from the get-go, etc.

- Focus on features that people will actually care about. For instance, I've never seen anyone praise the camera's zoom feature. In practice, people try that feature a few times and then never use it again. But that feature was a constant consideration factor for every level. Run through it multiple times to make sure the level didn't break, think about which zoom levels made sense, resize rooms because they worked at one zoom level but not the other, and so on.

- Don't do boxes that you can move around. Other 2D platformers avoid movable boxes because they're a huge headache to program and they really complicate the game space. Enemies need to respond to boxes you throw in their path and either navigate around or attack it. When you're moving the box, you have to worry about constantly changing your collision size and reconciling when the box gets snagged on the environment. The boxes were also a constant source of bugs because people can manipulate them to soft-lock themselves and more.

- More focused script. Phoenotopia's 100,000+ word script was panned more for being bloated than it was praised for being lengthy. Long scripts take a long time to write and make the game more unwieldy, increasing the costs of translation and upkeep. Every update we're addressing some textual error or mistranslation. There are some highly renowned games (e.g. Hyper Light Drifter) that do without a script at all!

- Be flashy! A bat and a lightsaber take the same amount of work to program, but the lightsaber will draw a lot more attention and interest.

- Slopes, surprisingly! Six years ago when I started, Unity was ill-equipped for 2D games. If you used the physics that Unity provided you'd have a really floaty character that wouldn't adhere to the slope when going downhill. There were a hundred different tutorials saying different things (use forces, use move position, use translation, etc). You can get rectangular collisions done in a day, but to do slopes took weeks. Meanwhile, games can actually get by fine without slopes. Most people won't even notice. Did you know the Phoenotopia flash game didn't have slopes? Neither does Hollow Knight or Rogue Legacy. You can save yourself a lot of work by avoiding slopes.

(big entities look weird on slopes. Bad slope!)

I could write enough little knowledge nuggets like this to fill a book! But I'd rather just make the next game. 

So… what IS next?

As mentioned previously, it's not Phoenotopia 2. Pirate and I are mostly just tossing some ideas back and forth right now. We'll go silent for a year (or two). Our next game's scope will be more modest in some ways, more ambitious in others. It will definitely be more smartly designed. (There will be a map!)

We'll announce it when it's ready for the public. It might be necessary for us to do a kickstarter. I've tried to avoid kickstarters having been burnt on quite a few myself and also because I worry that mismanaging a kickstarter would earn the ire of backers.

But I did keep this blog regularly updated for six years. So I've gained some confidence in my abilities to at least manage a kickstarter well.

Is it really the last Phoenotopia Blog update though?

Okay, not really. There is some news that I'll need to announce, and this blog is one of the game's main outreach channels. Here are the events that will cause me to update the blog:

Announcing the launch of the xbox/playstation ports when they're ready

If a physical edition of the game happens

If a new language is getting introduced into the game (Korean is a high possibility)

When we're ready to talk about our next game

If (BIG IF) we begin development on a Phoenotopia sequel. I do want to do a sequel one day if we have the means and the demand is there. 

Those updates will be more on a "when they happen" basis, rather than me reporting in every couple months.

Fan Art

As always, I'm very happy to see fanart of Phoenotopia. Major thanks again to Pimez for collecting all the artwork from the corners of the internet! Since this is the "last" blogpost, Sir Pimez can finally take a rest from collecting the fanart :P

ÆV made a series of pictures that tell a story. A Pooki is humanely sheared of its wool to create a hat. The Pooki is unharmed. Nice! Gotta love Gail’s expressions.

Amagoo Mazeru makes a stunning landscape shot of a full moon and shooting stars. It’s a sharp and clear vector art. I like the faint glow of the moon and the fire and the subtle gradient in the night sky. Very skillfully done!

Hah hah. I got a chuckle out of this one. I imagine this is how Gail's enemies see her by the end of the game. CaESar made this image based on TerminalMontage's famous youtube videos. Nailed it!

CrownStar drew two pictures of Gail. I'm a big player of JRPGs, so the first shot instantly reminded me of Persona 4's art style. (Hmmm... Phoeonotopia as a JRPG... there’s potential there...) Next, Birdy is shown carried off after her defeat. I really like Birdy's expression here - she just seems mildly uncomfortable.

There's a bit of a story behind the first image. As Firanka shares it, she wasn't able to defeat the Big Eye monster at the end of the flash game, so she believed a tall tale that what awaited after was a 6 armed Kobold boss. Hilarious! The second is a rendition of the lonely Anuri elder. A rare subject. The loneliness is portrayed well here. I feel lonely just looking at it!

Koo_chop draws the clash between Gail and Katash at the top of the towers. I really like this interpretation of the game's art style. It’s faithful to the in-game graphics. And the lighting, from the glow of Gail's bat, to Katash's sword, and the lightning in the background... Amazing!

Lime Hazard shows Gail with a salute pose. Very appropriate for this occasion. I also like how there's a slight tilt in the angle that Gail is portrayed. Those dynamic angles are always hard to get right, and Lime Hazard pulled it off very skillfully. See you next mission!

Lyoung0J with a digital painting of Gail posed sitting on a rock. I like how it almost seems like she was caught in a candid moment - she’s smiling, but also feeling self-conscious. Cute! The art style really pops, and I like how Gail is sporting what I call the old anime style nose. 

MyUesrNameIsSh*t with a sketch of Gail performing a skillful slingshot. I like how Gail is depicted with her tongue out in a mischievous manner, the way all mischievous people with slingshots do.

Niitsu Kentaro returns with a 2021 Happy New Year picture. That happened didn't it? A New Year... Gail's pose gave me a chuckle with how she seems to be waving the bat around as casually as one would wave hello. And "Phoenotopiyear"... Well said! One day we'll have our Phoenotopiyear...

Ochan Nu breaks all records with a stunning NINE pictures in one session :O

There's so many goodies here. My favorite would be the one with Gail staring intently at the screen - it's like she's looking directly at you. You almost feel uncomfortable.

Next, there's an Animal Crossing villager dressed as Gail and sporting her pink hair. It even looks like a house Gail would live in. Gail is a connoisseur of the arts and likes Mona Lisa. Yes :)

There are various comics of Gail pointing out Gail's weird food habits. A picture of Fran looking really cool, and even Gail rocking a bathing suit. (bathing suit image linked here in case NSFW). Wow!

Pimez didn't just collect the arts, he creates them as well! This one, which he aptly named 'The Year 175' is a depiction of when the dragons invaded the towers as told by an elderly Daean woman. Great pixeling skills! I got a good chuckle from the ice dragon leaving with its stuff slung over its shoulder.

Quo made a stunning picture of Gail playing the flute surrounded by the 5 musical notes and the Phoenix logo behind her. The theme seems to be "fire" and it works really well. Gail herself looks awesome depicted in her red suit - it's like she's leading a marching band!

Rai Asuha depicts Gail in the late game with her red suit, and night star bat, and holding a lamp. She looks ready for adventure! I really like the white outline here and Gail's poofy shoulders here - the art style feels reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics.

Seri also draws Gail bearing her late game equipment. Unique to Seri's drawing is how all of Gail's equipment is accessible from a pocket on her shirt. I also like how Gail is depicted with her lucky earrings - that accessory is often forgotten.

Treedude depicts Gail with a bat and wearing a funny smirk. She looks like she's ready to hurt someone!

Warotar returns with everyone's favorite Great Drake, Bubbles! It seems so happy to be featured!

I'm really grateful for all the fanart this game has received. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Closing Notes

Pirate drew a picture to mark the occasion. It shows Gail enjoying a hot chocolate with marshmallows and a pumpkin muffin. A rest well-earned...

Goodbye! Until next time!

[poesparakeet-fics]

Second part done! Read on AO3 or here! SFW!

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Caduceus Clay & The Mighty Nein, Caduceus Clay & Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay & Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caduceus Clay & Yasha, Caduceus Clay & Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay & Beauregard Lionett Characters: Caduceus Clay, Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk Tealeaf, Yasha (Critical Role), Nott | Veth Brenatto, Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett Additional Tags: Tickling, Revenge, Shrinking, wild magic mishaps, safeword, Teasing Summary:

Caduceus has made a habit of tickling some of his companions, be it as a cheer-up, a settle-down or a playful punishment. When a mishap with some wild magic makes his smaller than his friends, a few decide to get a little revenge.

CHAPTER 2 TEXT

They’d all agreed to wait a few days before going anywhere weird or dangerous, at least until Caduceus was back to normal. Sure, he didn’t fight using his size much, but the dangerously thin firbolg looked so breakable without his formidable height that they agreed to wait it out. After all, it was only a few days.

So naturally, trouble had found them.

They were lucky, really. Nobody was hurt badly, just a few scrapes and bruises. The spellcasters were burnt out, though.

“OK…” Jester said as they breathed a sigh of relief after entering the tower’s front door. “I got one healing word in me. Caduceus, want me to take care of that cut on your head?”

Caduceus reached up to touch it. It was barely a scrape. “Nah, I’m good. Maybe take down some of the bruising on Yasha’s arm?”

Jester did so, and Caduceus started to float upward toward his room. Thanks to the floating he didn’t even notice he was being followed until two sets of feet set down behind him, two bodies suddenly moving to walk with him pressed between them.

He looked up. It wasn’t Beau and Yasha, as he would have expected, Yasha being the only one to share the floor with him. It was Beau and Caleb, both smirking in ways that made his stomach squirm.

“Hey Caleb, did you hear what went on down there?”

“Ja, I think I did, Beauregard.”

“I think Caduceus just dodged a healing spell.”

Panic ripped a gasp out of Caduceus chest. “I did NOT!”

He started to try and break away from them, but Beau caught him around his middle and hugged him tight from behind. She lifted him off the ground easily, his feet kicking the air while Caleb stared him down.

“Jester offered you healing and you refused, Herr Clay. These are your rules. We have a zero tolerance policy, you see.”

Caduceus squirmed in Beau’s grasp.  “It’s not the same –”

“Um, actually…” Beau cut him off, starting to walk them toward his room, “I’d like to refer you back to a previous instance of you counting Caleb’s ribs two months ago, where you involved Mollymauk for the first time. I believe it was the seventh instance of this punishment being meted out. In that instance, there were limited healing spells left and Caleb’s injury was superficial, but you cited the zero tolerance policy.”

“Ungh!” Caduceus grunted, trying to tug himself free of two arms as strong as ship cable, “You two are–”

“–Going to find out how many ribs a firbolg has?” Caleb teased over a very frightening little smirk that broke into a grin when his eyes flicked over Caduceus’ shoulder. “Veth the brave! I could use your assistance!”

When Beau turned to look he caught sight of Veth floating at the centre of the tower, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. Her eyes met Caduceus’ gaze for a second.

“Nah. You guys have fun.”

Beau jostled Caduceus as she addressed Caleb. “Don’t worry you skinny shit, I’ll hold him down for you so you can get a little payback.”

“Noo…” Caduceus whimpered, the futility of the situation growing ever clearer. Caleb and Beau ignored him, talking to each other over his head instead as they entered his bedroom.

“Hey, has he ever done that thing where he tickles you until you say nice things about yourself?”

“Ugh. Ja.”

“So what’s he gotta say?” Beau climbed onto the bed with Caduceus still in her arms, keeping his back to her front.

“Hmm. We could make him say something mean, but that does not quite fit….”  

“Nah.” Beau started to wrestle with Caduceus arms, fighting to get them up over his head. “How about just ‘I deserve this’ over and over until we’re satisfied?”

Caduceus fought her, whimpering, but her hands were as quick as sparrows and it was barely a moment before she had his wrists gripped tight. He tried to twist and get his feet under him on the bed, but Caleb grabbed his ankles and tripped his feet out as he perched on the side.

“Ja, that works for me.” Caleb shoved Caduceus’ shirt up, tucking it behind his head to keep it out of the way.

“No no no!” Caduceus wheezed as he saw his wizard friend and frequent victim smiling like a cat who caught the canary and floating his hands in a move that was clearly meant to rile him. It worked.

“Ah, you can take it, I’m sure.” the wizard answered, meeting his eyes with a wicked glitter in his gaze, “I mean, you could safeword, but I don’t think you will. Not when you know you deserve this.”

Caduceus choked a little at the reference to his very first time counting Caleb’s ribs, a whine building in the back of his throat as the man’s hands drifted closer. Oh, he was in for it . It might be easier just to cast gentle repose on himself now— Jester wouldn’t be able to bring him back until the morning.

“Alright, so we start with number one, ja?”

Caleb’s ink-stained fingertips found Caduceus’ lowest rib, flatter and broader than a human’s. The firbolg bit his lip and whimpered as first they only grazed the downy hair there before starting to pinch along the length.

“Eeheek!” Caduceus squeaked, his heels drumming on the soft bedspread as giggles poured out..

“There, just like the first time.” Caleb teased over a tight-lipped smile. “Although, actually…” Caleb’s fingers started to attack him on one side, and then the other, switching back and forth to make him writhe. “That first time, you did it one side at a time, didn’t you? So, do you deserve this, Herr Clay?”

“Noho! I- I caught you ahaha– with aha broken rib thahahat first time!”

“He what ?!” Came a growl from over Caduceus’ shoulder.

“Ah– nothing. Moving on. Two!” Caleb’s hands jumped up one rib, drawing a satisfying squeal from their captive. “Now, the second time was still just you, but a little more like… this.”

Caleb ducked down to nuzzle his nose and cheek across Caduceus’ lower rib cage. The gentle pressure and rough hair along his cheek nearly made Caduceus jump out of his skin. His back arched, his body driven back into Beau’s embrace for lack of a better place to go.

“Aha— AHAha— Ohoho, OHo OK! I deserve it! I deserve it!”

Caleb stopped nuzzling but put his fingers back to work immediately. “Wunderbar! Three.”

“Nohoho! I deserve it! Aahaa! Please!”

Caleb ignored him. “The third time… that was Veth and her feather, wasn’t it?”

Caleb pulled away to dig around his coat, and Caduceus got a precious moment to breath. He slumped against Beau and tried his best to unscramble himself.

“Got it!” Said Caleb.

Caduceus’ eyes shot open to see the wizard twirling a quill in his hand.

“Eep! Wait! I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it! ”

Caleb flicked the soft fronds of the feather across one rib, then another. “It’s good that you can admit that now. So here is three, and there is four… I’m sure you have more ribs than I have vengeance, right, Herr Clay?”

Cad was too breathless to answer, slumped against Beau in a frenzy of chirping giggles that pitched upward when Caleb jumped another rib. The feather was surprisingly maddening after the rough scrape of stubble.

“Five!” Caleb cheered, “so the next time would have been Yasha…”

“NO! Nononono! Pleeheeheehease!” Caduceus didn’t bother telling them he deserved it this time, that clearly wasn’t getting him anywhere.

Caleb chuckled, exchanging a devilish wink with Beauregard over Cad’s shoulder before leaning in to nip at the side of Caduceus’ ribcage.

His reaction was more scream than laughter. Oh, the teeth were bad . The biting had all the same staticy mix of sensations that the nuzzles did with the added maddening little scrape of teeth. His breathing was hitched, his legs were kicking desperately against the bedspread. By the time Caleb let up there were tears in his eyes.

Caleb let him catch his breath and watched him with a little softness.

“While we are not nearly even for what you have put me through, I do feel a little bad. You’re nearly done, eh? How about this: We’ll skip to Mollymauk–”

“NO!” Caduceus yelped, still breathless.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I only want one. You made me use my safeword over a black eye, Herr Clay. You deserve much more, but if I get one, we may call it even.”

Caduceus’ whole body was rigid, and he groaned from behind clenched teeth. “Even? Blank slate?”

Caleb chuckled at the answer. “Ja. Blank slate. Until you decide to torture me again.”

“Well that’s up to you, man.” Caduceus growled, shutting his eyes tight and clenching his teeth. “OK. Do it.”

“Ja?” Caleb asked with a renewed smile.

“Yes!”

“You’re ready?”

“Cale–”

Pbbbbbt!

That sound again, this time mostly drowned out by a bleating shriek as Caduceus jerked like he was hit by lightning. The single raspberry felt like it went on forever, a rare credit to Caleb’s lung capacity.

When Caleb pulled back he was chuckling, partly out of delight for his vengeance and partly out of mirth at Caduceus’ reaction, now starting to fade into a collection of leftover giggles, sniffles and hiccups. Beau let go of his arms and hugged him to let him lean against her and catch his breath.

“The next *hic* time you beg for *hic* mercy…”

“You’ll take it very easy on me. We are even, remember? No vengeance allowed.”

Shit . Caduceus winced. He hadn’t processed what he was agreeing to, something the wizard had undoubtedly been hoping for.

“You know, I think this erases your escalations, too.” Beau added from over his shoulder. “Blank slate, right?”

Caleb brightened considerably. “Ja! A blank slate. Starting from the beginning.”

Caduceus growled, crossing his arms and trying to look annoyed while still hiccuping. Beau crawled out from behind him, and they both rose to their feet. Caleb planted a kiss on top of his head.

“Goodnight, Herr Clay.”

…..

He was big again before long. It happened when he was sleeping, and the next morning he’d made a pot of tea by the time he realized he no longer needed two hands to pour. The epiphany made him spring up straight, a smile on his face. He felt like himself again.

It was Veth who trundled into the kitchen first.

“Good morning!” Caduceus greeted her.

“Oh! I see you’re back. Are you happy to be big again?”

“Well, it’s a little more.. Me.”

“Yes, I think it is,” her eyes glittered at him, “now you’ll be safe from the others.”

“Heh.” Caduceus nodded, “I think everyone who wanted revenge got it by now. But I am glad to be a little harder to pin down. Thank you for not helping them.”

He turned toward the sink with his mug, and Veth was suddenly hanging off his back with her feet braced on his belt.

“We both know I don’t need you to be small to get you, do I Mr. Clay?” She whispered in his ear.

Caduceus barely got one large hand over his own mouth before one of Veth’s small ones was plunged down the back of his shirt collar. Her arm disappeared there, fingers scrabbling at the skin between his shoulder blades. He squawked into his hand, legs collapsing and spine twisting. He ended up on his knees, trying desperately to shake her off as she moved with him like a rucksack, as slippery as an itch he couldn’t reach to scratch.

“Ok! Ahaa! Ok! Veth, please!” He wheezed around his hand.

She did stop, hopping off his back with a little smirk. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna keep that secret and hold over you for a while yet.”

“Wonderful.” Caduceus groaned from his position curled up in a ball on the floor.

“Just don’t get cocky and I’ll never have a reason to TAKE YOU DOWN!”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed as he stood up. “Deal. Mercy. And don’t worry, Caleb already negotiated a pretty generous immunity offer for himself.”

Veth snorted. “Please. Do that as much as you want. Just don’t. Get. Cocky.”

“Ok, Veth.”

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) |

Ch.7: Of burdens and duties (4)

Naruto tries to look like he is not bored out of his mind. But they sure are testing his patience. To go see a lord he already forgot his name when he’s free, to consider sponsoring a new trade route Naruto had already discarded with the council, to lend his power to suppress an uprising someplace he didn’t care to remember. 

    His father’s hand touching his shoulder almost made him whine in relief. 

    “I’m afraid I need Lord Naruto for a while, if you’ll excuse me.” His father actually looks apologetic, and Naruto almost wants to congratulate him for being such a good actor. Do whatever you need to do, just get me out of here, he thinks.

    And although the lords and ladies surrounding Naruto complain and whine about his father taking him, Minato takes him away amids excuses and apologetic glances everyone else buys. 

    They are out of earshot when Naruto sighs and thanks his father for his timing, “I was dying of boredom.”

    His father snickers, “Thought it was time for you to get stressed out.”

    “Hinata?”

    “With Lord Gaara.”

    Naruto raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t press further. He’s going to her right now to make sure she’s all right anyway. 

    There are some people who look at him and make as if getting closer, but Naruto raises a hand in apology and keeps on walking. He has already spent a good amount of time with them, let him leave, jeez. 

    Temari is the first one to notice him, and she gives him a nod before moving her body to give him a clearer view. Sai is looking around, sitting right beside Hinata. She is sitting straight, all poise and elegance, and her attention is on Gaara, who’s talking and moving his fingers as if counting.

    He comes closer, keeping his eyes on her. Kankuro turns then, Sai glances over him and Gaara raises his head as he realizes his siblings’ attention is elsewhere. Then Hinata looks away from Gaara, follows his line of sight and looks at him. 

    Her shoulders drop in relief, her eyes widen and Naruto has to stop himself from gathering her up in his arms and crushing her against him. Sai stands up the moment he’s close enough and Naruto sits beside her. She stays unmoving and Naruto searches for her hands before bringing it to his thigh. Hinata gives him a small smile and as he rubs circles over her skin she squeezes back.

    Gaara resumes his talking when Hinata looks back at him. 

    “So,” he continues, “only in attendance today are the One-Tail, the Five-Tail, Six-Tail and the Nine-Tail.” His fingers come down as he remembers. “The Four-Tail is allegedly dying-”

    “Which him not coming today kind of fans the flames of that rumor,” Kankuro shrugs and Temari nods along. 

    “And reports have been coming in that the Two-Tail has been sealed already but they are giving time to their Beast Tamer to acclimate.” 

    Hinata frowns, “T-the others… w-where are the o-other B-beasts?”

    “In the wild,” chimes in Naruto, “being restrained by the clans who want a claim on them.”

    “W-who?”

    Naruto shrugs, “We can’t know unless someone comes forward and claims their stake, but so far no one has done so. We don’t know where they are either.” His tone is matter of fact and his stance tells Hinata he doesn’t mind the situation one bit. 

    She keeps her worries to herself. If it’s not enough to worry a Beast Tamer, then surely they were unfounded. But Naruto presses on her hand, grabbing her attention.

    “Anything else?”

    “Ah, w-well. Isn’t it d-d-angerous?” 

    “Oh, well, if the Beasts were roaming freely then sure, and we Beast Tamers would have to step up and contain it. But since they are out there doing nothing, it’s better for us not to waste resources on that. They are being taken care of, and eventually a new Beast Tamer will appear.”

    “H-have you h-had to?”

    Naruto cocks his head to the side in confusion.

    “T-take care of a w-wild B-beast.”

    “Oh, no,” he says, “not in our generation. That kind of thing happened like three generations prior, when we were starting to seal them in ourselves.”

    Hinata nods, as now everything starts to come together with the knowledge she had of Beast Tamers before becoming the wife of one. Before the Beasts were sealed in humans the clans either drew them off into the wild and far away from them or tried to seal them in places. A mountain, a cave, a forest. Only when they started sealing them within themselves to draw from their power did the Beast Tamers came into reality.

Hinata wonders, steals a glance at Naruto  who is starting a conversation with Lord Gaara. Would it be so bad to let the Nine-Tail out into the wild again? Tied to a forest far away from everyone? That way Naruto…

    He brings her out of her thoughts as he scoots closer to her and lays their intertwined hands over her thigh now, Hinata feels herself blushing and notices immediately the mischievous smirk on Naruto’s face. 

    He is enjoying this.

⁂⁂⁂

Hinata spends the rest of the day by Naruto's side. Like his father did before, when people don't accept Naruto's hand wave and leave, he walks to them, away from the group and comes back immediately after. 

Lord Gaara and his entourage left a while ago, as soon as the demonstrations started. Each Beast Tamer sits in a specified area around the arena, at the highest part of the structure, in order of the number of tails of their respective Beasts. Lord Naruto sits at one of the edges and Lord Gaara is right in front of his line of sight. 

Naruto relaxes the moment the show starts, and it's obvious why. The area the Beast Tamers sit at is off-limits to anyone but the people sanctioned by them, and a quick glance around tells Hinata that the Beast Tamers only keep their guards and a selected handful of other people. Many of the lords Naruto talked with before were not in here and new faces were presented before Hinata with a whole new attitude. 

These people he liked, she realized, and by the way they conducted themselves the feeling was mutual. 

Most of the lords and ladies that came to Naruto before sit under them, in the next level. Still substantially high up, but incapable of bothering the Beast Tamers. Not that they seem to mind, as they are now enthralled in the fights under them. With their hands intertwined and grabbing their clothes in suspense, Hinata sees some of them groaning in frustration while others clap in glee at the results. 

Naruto sits with his hand on her thigh, and he glances back at her every once in a while. Rubs his thumb over her clothes, offers drinks and food Hinata ends up refusing after a while. 

Sai sits right beside her, on her other side, and Sakura has come sit next to Naruto instead of Shino. They comment on the fights and some of the lords and ladies they met before and Sakura's laugh fills the room in intervals. 

Hinata snickers at some of their comments, harsh and way too honest, and whenever she sits there, confused since she's missing information, either Sakura or Naruto lean to her and add an explanation. 

There are few instances in which Hinata had the fortune of visiting a festival before. All of them under the eyes of the Hyuga. The places were beautiful and the people were happy and Hinata could only watch. Her stutter made her keep her mouth quiet and it meant she could never join in anything worth doing. 

Naruto presses his hand on her leg, inches closer to the edge of his seat as the fight reaches its climax. One of the fighters uses a flashy fire technique that engulfs half the arena and the people watching hold their breaths as they expect to see the opponent laying on the ground. But he's cocooned inside walls he raised from the ground, and he dashes forward immediately after. His enemy yields the moment he sees him running towards him. 

And Naruto laughs in joy. "Did you see that?" He asks, and Hinata can feel his eyes on her. She smiles and can't control the feeling that overcomes her as Naruto looks at her expecting a reaction. Whatever it may be. 

She takes her time, as usual, but she doesn't worry, because she knows he will wait. "Went all or n-nothing on that last one, d-didn't he?"

Naruto's energy is contagious, and Hinata can't remember a time in which she was so mesmerized in fighting before. He nods along and shrugs, "You always gotta keep your chakra supply in check."

"Like you've ever had to worry about that," jabs Sakura, and Naruto turns to her with mock hurt on his face. 

"I'll let you know I am very conscientious about my own chakra, thank you very much."

Lord Minato rarely comments and spends his time quiet and attentive behind his son, but this time he inches forward, right between Hinata and Naruto, and he says, "You are very welcome, son, thank you very much."

Naruto turns to him and looks as if he's been betrayed in the worst way possible. Sakura keeps on pestering him, now that Lord Minato has joined in, and Naruto waves them away frowning as if he's pissed, but he snickers the second after, and he can't help but laugh as he attempts to defend his position with weak arguments. 

Even Sai chimes in, and Hinata can feel herself relishing this ambience, this situation. She is enjoying herself. And she brings her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide the laugh that threatens to spill forth. 

The tremor that rattles their room is enough for the conversation to die out immediately and for everyone to stand alert. Naruto grabs her arm and brings her closer to him. 

The sound comes to them from the farthest corner of the arena. The people standing in attention stare at the direction where the sound came from and Hinata can feel Naruto's hand trembling as they realize that it's-

"Gaara," Naruto whispers and he squints his eyes as if that's enough for him to be able to see between the people and the cloud of dirt that stands between them. 

"The structure gave away?" Ventures Sakura, and they all remain quiet, still ready for action, aware of their surroundings and everything around them. 

The screams are still far away, but it's enough for Naruto to grab Hinata and start walking away from the windows. His eyes still glued to the commotion, glancing around every now and then to make sure that whatever was there was not yet here. 

"An attack?" Lord Minato looks dumbfounded, and the lords and ladies inside the room whisper around them with the same tone. Nobody aside from Naruto and Sai have moved and it's clear nobody yet believes there is even a chance for an attack to be happening. 

"Everyone, gather your things, your guards and leave this place immediately." Naruto's voice resonates within the room, and he breaks the spell. Everyone begins to stand, looking more and more worried by the second. 

And then Gaara's One-Tail comes into view, and Naruto can feel a shiver run down his spine. "What the fuck…" 

The Beast roars to the sky. His weight is too much for the wood and metal structure under him, which is why every move he makes make the place collapse. The Beast's body is like a gigantic bear made out of sand, with purple linings running through its body like veins. His yellow eyes are surrounded by black and they lock on the people under him. 

Naruto has trouble breathing. He wishes to go and help, make Gaara regain control, but there are so many things yet he doesn't know. He can't put Hinata at risk due to his carelessness.

"I'm going to help," his father states and then runs towards the window. 

"Sakura!," Naruto shouts, trying to reign control of the situation and start giving the orders they desperately need. But Sakura is already on his father's heels.

Minato throws a kunai in front of him, breaking the glass before jumping out, with Sakura at his back. They disappear into the sea of people who have already started to leave the premises as fast as they can, making the dire situation even worse. Naruto follows his father’s back for a second before losing them completely. And then he turns around and brings Hinata to his side, his arm around her shoulders.

"We need to leave," he orders. Hinata trembles under him and his brain starts working with one goal in mind: getting her out of here.

"Shino, you guide us out of here. Sai, at my back." 

Shino's bugs are already buzzing and flying around them and he starts moving immediately after receiving the instruction. Naruto feels Sai glued to their backs and he allows himself a second of relief before moving. 

The people pile upon each other in a desperate attempt to escape, but it only makes it harder to do so. Naruto understands Shino's instructions without the need to voice it. He crouches, places his arm behind Hinata's legs and raises her into his arms.

She brings her arms around him as a reflex, her eyes wide and filled with worry.

"It's gonna be all right," he whispers against her head, "it's going to be all right. I got you."

They jump in between the people. Like many others lords and ladies are doing as well, being carried in the arms of the guards they brought. They keep away from each other, still too worried about the source of the attack. 

The One-Tail stops roaring and Naruto feels himself stand straighter. He knows this pattern. He looks at the monster and sees it breathing in.

"Take cover!!" He yells, hoping Shino and Sai hear him. He falls to the floor, covers Hinata with his body and raises his hand in front of him, letting the chakra of the Beast pour out. 

The One-Tail shoots out balls of pressured air to the people. In no order. The ground trembles, the arena starts falling apart wherever the attack touches and then it stops. 

Naruto lets his chakra die out and looks around. There are people splayed out in ways that no living being could withstand, and he brings Hinata closer to him. The arena still stands, but it's a matter of time before the One-Tail pounds it to the ground. 

"Shino! Sai!" 

Sai jumps next to him, with his scroll on his hand and a bleeding gash at the side of his head. Shino is nowhere to be found. "He'll find us," he tells Sai, who only nods before following again. Shino specializes in tracking, if anyone will be able to find them after being separated will be him��� or so Naruto wants to believe. 

The screams and now wails of pain fill the air and Naruto feels his senses heightened due to the danger around them. Which is why he stops before the One-Tail even stops screaming. 

The Beast gives out an interrupted yell before disappearing under a flash of light. 

His father did it. 

He did it. 

Gaara is okay.

He doesn't realize he's trembling until Hinata brings her head out of his neck and he puts her on the ground, cups her cheek. His fingers can't stop spasming. "Are you hurt?"

Hinata shakes her head no and hugs him, rubbing her head against his chest. Naruto can't help the sigh of relief that leaves his body. 

He has to go check on Gaara. 

He reaches the ground with Hinata in his arms first. Whatever happened to Gaara can happen again and it's best for Hinata to get out of here. 

Sai will take her. Naruto looks around, hoping to see Shino or Sakura coming to him, but only the people jumping down from the stands are running around. The guards with their clients under their arms, looking around in search of danger while they move as fast as they can. There are whimpers and wails of agony around them, but the thunderous racket from before gave way to a sort of calm that only makes Naruto more nervous. 

His father must be with Gaara, tending to him. He will not come back until Gaara is fine, and he’s grateful for it. But that means that Sakura won’t leave his side either and if Shino doesn’t come back soon only Sai will be there to protect Hinata. And taking the current events into consideration, Naruto fails to feel comfortable without sending at least two guards with her. 

He takes too much time thinking. It’s the first thing that comes to mind as the tremors come back again and the noise escalates around them. It’s terrifying, the sight before him. Aside from Gaara’s, he has never seen another Beast on the loose. Wouldn’t even think he would ever do so in his lifetime. And yet…

The Five-Tails stands now before him, a horse-like Beast with white fur extending from its face to its five tails. The stands are already in shambles so the moment it appears, his hoofs start stomping in an attempt to stabilize itself. 

The wave of dust and air that moves to them leaves Naruto with no time at all, and his only reaction is to cocoon Hinata in his arms and throw himself to the ground, hoping no debris falls to them. 

The second the trembling settles they are running away. Naruto coughs as the particles latch to his lungs and he worries whether Hinata is having a hard time breathing as well, but he refuses to stop now. First they need to get out of here.

The dust makes everything harder to see and Sai tries his best to make a way for him to go through, moving people out of their way. They move faster than almost everyone on the ground and yet they are still inside when that distinct trembling happens again. 

Naruto knows what’s happening before he even turns around. Somehow, his senses catch onto his surroundings before his brain can have a chance. He puts Hinata on the ground, looks for her face.

There are tears going down her cheeks and he doesn’t know whether it’s because she’s scared or because the dirt around her is irritating her eyes. 

It doesn’t really matter.

He raises her head, cups her cheeks with his hands while his thumbs wipe her tears. She locks eyes with him, “Stay close to Sai.” 

Hinata frowns at him, confused, but  Naruto doesn’t have the time to explain, so he pushes her towards her guard, who is already right behind her.

Naruto smirks, he catches on quick. 

Sai, like never before, latches onto Hinata’s wrist and mid-section to keep her from moving, as she tries to reach for him. “My lord-” she calls, but Naruto walks backwards with growing intensity. 

He catches her struggling with Sai, who remains still as a statue. And as if on cue, the Six-Tails gurgles to the sky. Slimy and gooey, the slug-like Beast stands behind him too. Naruto can’t find any explanation for what’s happening. He just fears-

“Naruto!!” Hinata cries and Naruto can feel his heart squeezing. He forces himself to keep on walking. Not now. She has to leave and he has to put distance between them. 

Whatever is happening, it’s targeting Beast Tamers. And if there is any pattern to this.

-he fears he’s next.

[tiny-stack-of-knights]

AH SO I FINALLY FINISHED AN OFFICIAL REF FOR MY META KNIGHT GIJINKA AND? Not gonna lie I’m pretty happy with his design and stuff (:

I HAVE. SO MANY NOTES

So uh feel free to read them below the cut 😳

warning it’s a LOT

OKAY HERE WE GO

for starters, these are specific to my gijinka, buuuuut most of them also fit my general interpretation of him

- Meta Knight is not his actual name. It’s just the title he gave himself to sound cool.

- As such, he’s not technically a knight, just in spirit. A meta knight, if you will (:

- He takes his image very seriously. It used to be so bad that he would take literally everything seriously, and had a reputation for sucking all of the life and fun out of everything and anything. But, he’s softened up a lot since he came to dreamland. He’s actually a pretty fun guy nowadays (and maybe just a little chaotic, or, rather, enthusiastic when excited...)

- Because of his once dreadfully serious nature, his face is stone cold and “dead eyed”. Once he broke himself of his old habits and lightened up, he became humiliated by how stone faced he is, and it’s one of the many reasons he wears his mask.

- Speaking of his mask! He is sensitive to light, and his mask helps tone it down for him. He can go without it, but if he’s in a well lit area for awhile, he will start to get a migraine.

- As such, he has pretty good night vision.

- Yes...he is very bat like. That’s for a reason! My hc for my puffball gijinkas is that they have a lot of traits similar to their wing type. For instance, since Galacta has bird wings, they have some bird like features like sharp vision, soft feathers strewn about their hair, and squawking when startled.

- Yes, this implies that Meta makes cute bat-like trills and squeaks......(he also purrs. puffs purr, because they are basically just round cats)

- He is very kind and caring beneath his persona, which has become more and more evident. He is also incredibly protective of those close to him. He secretly worries he will lose them, and as such, he does everything to keep them around.

- Despite his agility, he can be quite clumsy at times. This has led to some...embarrassing injuries.

- He’s tiny! 5’0 with heels and 4’10 without them, but since he almost always wears them, he will tell people he is around 5’0 (but almost 5’1!)

- As a knight of sorts, he has a strong sense of chivalry (which is basically canon). It is hard for him to accept any sort of kindness, since he feels he owes something in return. He always makes sure to express his gratitude however he can.

- However, he is really bad at emotions and expressing himself. He suppressed most of them early on when he was painfully serious, and as he’s lightened up, he’s had to deal with actual emotions.

- He uses art and poetry to cope with this and express his emotions. He never lets anyone see it though.

- He also draws cute things. He loves cute things, but is still hesitant to let others know this, as he worries it will

- a) damage his reputation and

- b) confirm to him he is, very much, a rather cute little puffball

- There are many (often very specific) things he is fascinated by, and can talk on for hours on end. However, his more personal and less “serious” interests he rarely talks about to anyone he isn’t close with, and if they’re brought up in public, he often gets very flustered. (yes, he’s shy but he’ll never call it that)

- He loves sweets and has a passion for baking. He’s quite good at it, but not at cooking actual meals.

- Despite Kirby (and the meta-knights) thinking of him as their dad, he is absolutely horrid with children. Does not know how to deal with them. He gets very flustered (and often frustrated) if he ever has to watch them. Since he doesn’t really know how to deal with them, he kinda just treats them as he would anyone else. Because of his caring and protective nature, many still consider him dad-like.

- Oh yeah, Kirby is the exception to this since he is (usually) such a wonderful little dude. If left alone with the other puff, he can act like a semi-competent father. It is very rare that this actually happens though.

Okay, time for some darker headcanons, including a lot of post Mecha Knight stuff (‘:

Oh yeah I have a Mecha Knight gijinka too 😳

-He suffers from depression. This was one of the main reasons he used to be so dreadfully serious, and why he’s so used to suppressing his emotions. He used to use his knightly persona as a not-very-healthy way of coping.

-As a bit of a lighter note, after many years of care and support from his friends, he’s seriously lightened up.

-However, he still has days when it surfaces, and it often takes the whole day to get him back to a more functional state. Yes, even Meta Knight has to take mental health days sometimes (:

-He has a serious issue with abandonment. He worries nobody could actually care about him, and frets constantly that he will lose the people close to him. This stems back to when he got his wings, as many saw them as “demonic” and as a “bad omen”

-Because of this, he has a really low self esteem, which, again, is why he used to live through his knight persona primarily, and was so ashamed of his actual self.

-The Mecha Knight incident left him with serious mental scars, giving him minor ptsd through nightmares and panic attacks when strongly reminded of the incident.

-It also left him with a robotic eye and arm.

-During his fight with Haltmann Works, his non-gauntlet arm was severely injured. Instead of just trying to fix it, Susie gave him a shiny new robot arm. It was originally Haltmann red and black, but he repainted it and, with some help from his crew, slightly modified it to more of his style.

-He also had an eye replaced in order to be compatible with the “eye” that swerves around the mask. He’s been too scared to try rewiring or recoloring it.

-The Mecha Knight incident really set him back from all the progress he made.

-During the first few months post Mecha Knight, he hid himself, only showing up when needed. He became paranoid of him hurting his friends without knowing it, which furthered his isolation.

-Much like how he managed to learn to cope better with his depression, it took him a lot of time and help to get him back to where he used to be.

-And, to end this little segment on a happier note, as of the time of Kirby Fighters 2, he’s much happier than he’s ever been. He’s made a lot of progress, is much more open with others, and much more accepting of his soft side (:

I could honestly go on and on, I have SO MANY notes that haven’t made it into this post, including his backstory, his relationship with the other characters, and a few other miscellaneous details (I even gave him a more...normal name that he never uses cause its cute and why not). If anyone’s ever interested in more though, feel free to ask me, I do have anon ask on after all, and boy do I have a lot to say (:

God, maybe I put a little too much thought and psychoanalysis (and maybe just maybe a liittllleee too much projection) into my interpretations but? hey, I had fun with it

If you actually read all of this bullshit, holy shit thank you and I hope you had fun too (:

[thegayhimbo]

I saw your reblog about Alcide, if you don't mind answering what are your personal thoughts on him?

Hi there. Sorry for the wait on this. I actually thought this was going to be a simple answer, but I realize there's a lot I wanted to say about the character in relation to how the fandom perceives him as opposed to how he actually comes off onscreen.

When I first saw the show, my feelings about Alcide ranged from okay at best to indifferent at worst. I didn't hate him, but I didn't care for him. He wasn't my favorite character on the show, and I found most of his story (and the werewolf plots) to be boring. I was actually surprised when I came online and found out he had a following with certain fans.

Upon rewatch, I'm still mostly indifferent to Alcide, but I lean a little more towards mildly disliking him now. And a lot of that has to do with how the fandom (especially people on Reddit) treat him vs how he actually comes across in the books and on the show.

I’ll start off by saying that I never liked Alcide in the books. He was an asshole, and most of the time he used Sookie to advance his position in the werewolf pack. What little relationship he had with Sookie felt one-sided on his part. It also doesn’t help that he unfairly blamed Sookie for stuff that was out of her control (like the death of Debbie in the books or the death of his father.) His attraction to Debbie in the books is also something that doesn’t reflect well on him. Contrary to the show’s portrayal, Debbie in the books was written as a one-dimensional psychopath with a jealous streak and no redeeming qualities. She’s basically a cartoon villain with no depth to her. The result is it’s hard to understand why Alcide got into a relationship with her in the first place, and it makes it look like he was just thinking with his dick. In other words, Book Alcide was nothing to brag about.

As for the show, like I said, I’m mostly apathetic to Alcide’s character (with a few exceptions that I will talk about in a minute) and I thought he was pointless. I know he was suppose to be a vehicle to introduce Sookie to the world of werewolves, but the way that was executed didn’t work. Common consensus in the fandom seems to be that the werewolf plots in both the books and the show were tedious and forgettable. It’s ironic because I know there are Alcide fans out there, but whenever I’ve asked them about what they thought of the werewolf stories, their responses range from “I don’t remember them” to “They were bad.” A lot of fans didn’t care for them. They could have been cut from the show without affecting the main story. That’s a problem because Alcide was usually involved in those stories, and the result is it was hard to care about him because of how non-compelling they were.

As for the character himself, I wasn’t impressed with him for a number of reasons.

First, there’s his relationship with women. I didn’t pick up on this the first time, but a rewatch has shown me how sexist Alcide came off during certain moments on the show. Case in point: His relationship with Debbie. One of the big conflicts between Alcide and Debbie on the show is that they both wanted different things. Alcide didn’t want kids and was fine not being in a werewolf pack. Debbie was the opposite where she did want kids and wanted to be a part of a community. Nothing wrong with that, but it was pretty clear from the get-go that this relationship was never going to work out. The problem though is that Alcide never seemed to recognize that, and kept trying to force Debbie to be something she didn’t want to be: A housewife who didn’t have kids, who was isolated except for her and Alcide, and who spoke softly and cooked meals for him. Basically the opposite of what Debbie was. And yes, I get that Debbie had a lot of problems and made really poor choices, but Alcide’s method of imposing his idea of what she should be was not the way to have handled that. It doesn’t help that he didn’t really seem to care about what she wanted because he thought he knew what was best for her. Like I said, that’s pretty sexist on his part.

And then there’s Sookie and how she factored into Alcide’s relationship with Debbie in seasons 3-4. I find it telling that when it comes to how this situation was handled, fans are eager to blame Sookie and Debbie for the whole mess that resulted in Alcide abjuring Debbie and Debbie getting killed by Sookie, but people rarely call out Alcide for his part in all of this. Personally though, I think Alcide bears some of the blame here for what happened.

Something that’s been pointed out is that during seasons 3-4, Alcide has only known Sookie for a brief period of time. Season 3 for instance takes place over the course of 9-10 days whereas season 4 takes place over 10 days (October 21st-October 31st). That’s about 2-3 weeks at best. And yet, despite only knowing Sookie for about a week in season 3, and despite having been in love with Debbie for a number of years, he’s already pining for Sookie:

Now maybe you could argue that he saw Sookie as a replacement in season 3 because his relationship with Debbie deteriorated and he was heartbroken. However, that excuse doesn’t hold up in season 4 when he’s supposed to have repaired his relationship with Debbie during the year Sookie was gone in faerie-land, and yet he’s still lusting for Sookie despite only knowing her for a short period of time.

It’s so telling to me that only a few days after Debbie’s death in season 5, Alcide tries to have sex with Sookie when they’re both drunk, and he tells Sookie “I’ve waited so long for this.” It really puts his relationship with Debbie in a negative light, and calls into question whether he actually loved her at all.

I’m not saying that Debbie was blameless in this, and it doesn’t excuse her cheating on Alcide with Marcus or trying to kill Sookie, but it’s not like she didn’t notice Alcide was eyeing Sookie for some time. This was a woman who had hitched her sobriety onto Alcide and felt isolated and alone, and the man she was depending on was emotionally cheating on her. And rather than owning up to that, Alcide tries to gaslight Debbie into thinking she’s crazy and it’s all in her head. He literally says that to her when they’re in bed together, and it’s nasty.

What’s frustrating is this usually gets overlooked in the fandom when people talk about Alcide’s character, and he’s usually referred to in a sympathetic light whereas Debbie is blamed for being an unstable, violent whack-job whereas Sookie is blamed for being a house-wrecker, even though she was in a relationship with Eric at the time.

This is also one of the reasons I never liked Sookie/Alcide as a pairing, and why them getting together at the end of season 6 felt forced: Putting aside how their only sexual interaction up to that point was Alcide trying to have sex with Sookie one night when they were drunk and Sookie vomiting all over him, it was basically Sookie getting pigeon-hold into the role of domestic housewife for Alcide. And I’m sorry, but I find it unbelievable that they were together for 6 months and Sookie never once picked up on any unkind or dirty thoughts from Alcide during the time they were together until the season 7 premiere when that suddenly was a problem.

But even putting aside his relationships with Sookie and Debbie, the biggest problem I have with Alcide is he’s not a compelling character. He’s a character whose motivations and personality change when the plot demands it, and most of the time the writers didn’t know what to do with him and just stuck him in different stories with no rhyme or reason. It doesn’t help that he has no character development during his time on the show. There is no difference between the Alcide we meet in season 3 and the one we end up with in season 7. The result is I don’t care about him.

It’s funny because I’ve seen plenty of fans project these kind of criticisms onto Jason, but I actually think they apply more to Alcide than they do to Jason.

Jason actually had character development. He learned to become more responsible and be someone others could depend on. He began to move away from his womanizing behavior in the later seasons and eventually settled down and had a family. He re-evaluated his stance on supernaturals, and actually became an ally for them in several ways. There is a big difference between the person he was in season 1 and the man he became by season 7. If people missed that, or chose to ignore it, that’s on them, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Alcide on the other hand..............what was his character development? How did he grow as a person? What did he learn from his relationships with Debbie or Sookie or Rikki? Or even from the whole werewolf pack nonsense? Cause I’m drawing a blank here. Was it suppose to be that pack life wasn’t for Alcide because it would turn him into a power-hungry asshole? I never got the impression that was a problem for him in the early seasons, and it was a contrived conflict that was manufactured for season 6. The show never did a good job fleshing out what his arc was suppose to be.

Also, say what you will about Jason’s stories, but at least they were memorable: Amy and Jason’s relationship. The Fellowship of the Sun. The werepanthers. Becoming a cop with Andy. His relationship with Jessica. His hunt for Warlow. I would also argue that each of these stories added something to Jason’s character, and helped him grow as a person. Alcide’s arc on the other hand.......................not so much. When I was rewatching, I had to take notes just to remember what was going on with the werewolves, and even when I was rewatching, I felt the overwhelming urge to hit the fast-forward button. That is how boring those scenes were. It says something that even Alcide wasn’t able to carry them.

TL;DR: I’m apathetic to Alcide (with a few moments where I find him unlikable), and I don’t think he was a good character. The werewolf plots were tedious at best and irritating at worst, and Alcide’s arc on the show wasn’t compelling or interesting. I don’t hate him the same way I hate characters like Bill, Hoyt, and Violet, but I don’t like him either.

[tealin]

Cape Crozier: The Outward Journey

As always, please visit the original blog for proper formatting. Sigh, Tumblr.

I am telling this as the last of my field trips, because it was without doubt the climax of my Antarctic adventures.  In actual fact, this happened the day after the previous climax, which was when I flew over the Beardmore Glacier. If time was invented so everything didn't happen at once, and space was invented so it didn't happen to you, then Time and Space were apparently out on a girls' weekend in late November 2019.

There was one major journey yet to undertake, in my visits to sites of historical importance.  It was the location of a minor side-quest in the story of the Scott Expedition – one could, theoretically, leave it out of a retelling with no narrative consequences – but it's the central episode and emotional fulcrum of The Worst Journey in the World, and gave the book its title.  In June and July 1911, the dead of Antarctic winter, three men set off from Cape Evans to reach the Emperor penguin colony at Cape Crozier, on the other side of Ross Island, to fetch some eggs when the embryos were at the right stage of development to yield potential clues to the evolution of birds.  The adventure ended up being more of a test of human endurance than avian ancestry, and the results got from the few specimens they did collect did not advance the theory they were hoped to prove (though scientists would remind us that negative results are still results).  However, it is an amazing story of what people are willing to undertake for the sake of intellectual progress, and in this instance, of how cast-iron character can make the unimaginably awful endurable, and as such, it very much warrants the retelling.

Unlike Cape Evans, Cape Crozier is hard to get to, hostile, and not very well documented.  There was no way I could ever visit it at midwinter, but, having almost no clue what the place was like beyond the written word, it was vitally important to me to stand there myself and get a sense of the geography, so that I could draw figures groping around it in moonlight and blizzard when the time came.  Luckily the NSF agreed that it was important I go, because it was the most complex and expensive trip to arrange.  It would necessitate a helicopter ride; helicopters cost so much to fly, and are so necessary for shuttling people and stuff around any part of Antarctica that is inaccessible by plane (which is most of Antarctica), that their use is very strictly rationed.  I had exactly enough helicopter time allocated to get me to Cape Crozier and back.  Therefore, we had to fly on a day when it was absolutely certain we would not have to turn around, because an aborted trip would mean I didn't have enough flight hours left to try again.  Antarctic weather is unpredictable and Cape Crozier has a reputation for turning very nasty very fast, so this needed to be a careful judgement call.

The first day it was posited I fly, it didn't happen – I forget why; I think there was a backup in other jobs, and mine, being of low importance, got dropped to make room.  The second time, I was slotted for 3:45pm, though with one eye on the weather and the other on resources, the right was reserved to cancel at any time.  A little after 2:30 my coordinator called to say we were, as far as anyone could tell, good to go, so to meet at Helo Ops at 3 for the safety briefing and helmet fitting.

Accompanying me to the far reaches of Ross Island would be my coordinator, who had been a few times before; the pilot, who was one of the best in the biz and had flown for pretty much any Antarctic documentary you care to name; and a biologist, who was required to go because Cape Crozier hosted a rare and fragile species of Antarctic lichen, which we must be careful not to step on or disturb in any way.  The biologist who usually went on these trips was feeling unwell, so she sent a replacement, who was very happy to have the opportunity as he had never been to Cape Crozier before.  Of course, this meant he didn't know what the lichen looked like, but we would doubtless find out when we got there.

Team assembled and briefing done, we had only to wait for the flight to be activated.  The last possible moment came and went without cancellation, so we were on.

The latest weather report from the station at Cape Crozier was that it was 30% cloudy with winds at 7 knots.  Keeping an eye on the wind was important for obvious safety reasons; the cloud conditions, though, were important for less obvious reasons.  The helicopter pilot needs shadows and detail to be able to tell how far away the ground is, either to stay in the air or to make an emergency landing.  When clouds diffuse sunlight, a snow-covered surface looks perfectly blank, and no details show up to give a sense of scale or distance, so it's unsafe to fly.  

We were supposed to have flown along the south coast of Ross Island, following the route that Wilson, Bowers, and Cherry-Garrard sledged at great cost in 1911.  That side of the island was cloudy, however, so we were redirected to fly around the other side.  From a historical perspective this was a bit of a disappointment, but from an artistic one, the north side of the island was absolutely stunning, and I very quickly came to see why people with money to burn choose to travel by helicopter.

Plus, it meant we started out journey by flying over Cape Evans.

All of Ross Island is volcanic, and near Cape Royds is a small parasitic cone which was explored by the expedition's geologists, who were also the first to climb Mt. Erebus.  I thought it was named Mt. Sis, after someone's sister, but in fact it is Mt. Cis, after one of their dogs.  Our pilot had been this way before and had something special to show us:

On top of Mt. Cis is a pickaxe.  I don't believe there's any historical record of anyone leaving it there, but the Nimrod Expedition is not my speciality.  It has been checked out, and the pickaxe is a model that was in use in the early 20th century, so either an early explorer stuck it there and didn't bother writing it down, or a later explorer found an old pickaxe and stuck it there to give the impression an early explorer had done so.  Anyway, it's been there as long as anyone can remember, and doesn't seem to have suffered much, so will probably continue to be there for some time to come.

From there, onwards up the east coast to cross over the shoulder between Mt Erebus and Cape Bird, then over the snowy slopes of Terror, and the dissipating sea ice, to reach our destination.

Our first sight of Cape Crozier was the Adélie penguin rookery.  This is one of the largest in the world, where upwards of 250,000 penguins congregate to make the next generation of penguins every year.  I had not seen a penguin yet, and though my eyeballs were pointed directly at them, I was too far up to see any now, but their presence is evident in the vast, vast amount of light brown penguin poo.

On this side of Ross Island, the ice shelf is unimpeded by smaller islands or awkward quirks of geology as it is around McMurdo.  As it grinds around the corner, here, it crinkles, and then as it straightens out again, the crinkles break, and the ice lets in long fingers of sea, which freezes during the winter.  It is on these frozen fingers, sheltered from the worst of the blizzards by the taller segments of Ice Shelf, that the Emperor penguins incubate their eggs through the Antarctic winter.

It was these finger bays that our intrepid explorers were trying to reach, but they needed to establish their base camp somewhere a little more secure, on the solid rock of Cape Crozier.  We were on our way to do the same.

The hill coming up was incredibly exciting to see, perhaps even more exciting than Observation Hill.  When the Terra Nova first arrived at Ross Island, it was not on the McMurdo side of it, but rather here, because Cape Crozier was posited to be the most sensible site for Expedition headquarters. It had been explored on the Discovery Expedition, so they knew there was permanent access to the ice shelf, and thus the road south, unlike Hut Point or Cape Royds which would be cut off by miles of open sea for half the year.  It had reliable fresh water nearby, and the Emperor penguins would be right next door.  On the day the Terra Nova arrived, though, the swell on the sea was too high to permit a landing, and when they sent out a scouting party on one of the whaleboats, they discovered no suitable landing place. So they had no choice but to make for the old familiar haunts on the other side of the island.

Now, this is so much historical trivia, except that as part of exploring my desired artistic style and putting together my grant proposal for this trip, I had drawn that scouting journey, and prominent in the scene is this very hill, with its orca eye-spot of snow.  The early explorers called it The Knoll.

This was based on a photograph taken on that day, which clearly shows The Knoll, and also that in January 1911 the ice front was a very long way back from where it is now.

As you can see, what is open water in 1911 is thick and pressured ice in my own photo from 2019.

Now, before you jump on this as proof that climate change is a lie, you may like to hear about my conversation with a scientist who has been studying the Cape Crozier Emperors for over forty years.  He said that, while usually the leading edge of the ice shelf crumbles into small icebergs, occasionally enormous chunks drift off in one go.  When they do, they take a whole generation of Emperor chicks with them, long before they are ready to swim, and that generation is lost.  There is another Emperor colony at Beaufort Island, off the north coast of Ross Island, and following a catastrophe at Cape Crozier, a lot of breeding pairs move to Beaufort, and vice versa. 

When the Crozier party arrived at the Emperor rookery in July 1911, Wilson was expecting the two thousand birds he'd seen when he visited with the Discovery, but there were only a hundred.  Therefore it is plausible that, sometime between 1903 and 1911, a very large chunk of ice had pulled away from Cape Crozier, pushing the shoreline back and scaring off the penguins.

Back to the present, now, or at least last November.  We had just passed The Knoll and were on our way to our landing site, a short walk away from the site of our penguin hunters' stone igloo.  The place they chose to call home is the thin little ridge sticking out into the mist at the left of this photo:

Here we come …

And there we are.

When the Crozier party set off on their science trip in 1911, the three men hauled two sledges for two and a half weeks, through deep soft snow and temperatures that broke known records – down to -77°F one night, according to the thermometer slung under the sledge.  The transcendent misery of marching in frozen clothes, not being able to get proper sleep for the shivering, and burning their precious fuel through the night just to survive, is carved deep in Cherry's writing of the experience.  To say it was hellish is no exaggeration: Cherry points out that Dante put the circle of ice below the circles of fire in his Inferno, and thought it was apropos.  The greatest challenge of our own journey out was landing the helicopter: given the sensitive environment and the fragile lichens, there was a specific landing site that was supposed to be marked out with stones.  Our pilot circled once to find it, and came back around because he couldn't spot it the first time, then finally landed right on the GPS waymark because there was no visible clue where the actual site was supposed to be.  As difficulties go, it hardly bears mention.  Whether we'd earned it or not, however, we were there.

[whatsinyourstory]

Motivations To Love Second Hand Books

Used books are glorious, they're curios of social history, bits of craftsmanship and loved abstract belongings all simultaneously.

Here is a couple of things to appreciate:

1. Dried up, rumpled spines and very much took care of, hence all around cherished kids' books. Beautiful to think about how often the book has been perused. Was it part of an assortment? Was it the main book the past proprietor or proprietors had?

2. This book has a place with...

I love seeing a name, written in kid's composing particularly, scribbled in a book. It provides the book with a feeling of 'having a place' and appears to be deliberate, and verifies the kids' book some way or another. A name assists with envisioning the kid, the past proprietor. We have practically the whole 'Thomas the Tank Motor' book assortment, with the name 'GUTUM' ( in some cases a blend of capitals and lower case) scribbled on each cover inset. I love that this was GUTUM's assortment, and we've figured out how to hold the books together, joined by their past proprietor.

3. Cover insets, old ones particularly, a prelude to the story inside, laying the right foundation in a capricious fantastic manner. I like it when they're stain filled and written on, as I feel I'm taking a gander at an image that was once gazed at, examined and modified by tired kid eyes and dirty

little fingers.

4. Arbitrary kid drawn numbers: you find this a ton in recycled LadyBird Books I find, simply the sheer rationale of this mystery message from a kid's psyches eye, and how this then, at that point, bewilders me, the grown-up peruser, such an extremely long time later. What did they mean by this. What's the code? What was the kid attempting to say...if anything! It's a confounding secret, that is probably going to be rarely tackled.

5. What's more, along these lines, the all around ready, benevolent kid jot. I think this is my number one of the multitude of motivations to see the value in used books. I particularly love furious dark felt tip write like those above as it's actual last, exceptionally long-lasting and positive. I can likewise envision the kid who crawled off and 'altered' this book thinking 'I'll get you unnerving canine, take that!' I think these changes are so aesthically satisfying, so significant, and profound. They're bits of genuine workmanship. Maybe I ought to set up a workmanship presentation showing all of my used book pulls, showing the furious verve of the youngsters and felt tips of this 'age' 😀

6. Old books! You can get a few actually quite old, lovely books in cause shops, for instance. I like taking a gander at the various strategies for restricting, and the various inks, and

defenses and print type text styles. The book above is from 1947-quick post war England! How old is the first proprietor today? What was their life like contrasted with now, and when did

they part with this book? As far as friendly history, a need to wear chronicled gloves, these are valuable and intriguing things. It's a priveledge to run over these old tired books. I like to give them a peaceful retirement, some place where they'll be protected and cherished once more.

7. Lastly, stories that have left style. A portion of these truly peculiar stories, with the creepiest of outlines, genuinely captivate and enchanting the present kids. We have an extremely peculiar first release, perhaps independently published book from the 1980s about a witch and her shadow. The youngsters love it, regardless of thinking that it is new and creepy. That sensation of dread, is in someways, part of the allure and draw. We read this book, The Kindling Box, this evening. The components of the story are all extremely dull, and there doesn't appear to be an ethical string, with the exception of the reality the trooper gets what he needs from killing a witch, taking care of a show kid, and wedding a princess. It's very reviving then, to peruse something a lot more like reality, than how the glossed over current youngsters' fiction, would have us accept.

Buy second hand books from best online bookstore now!

[reyescarlos]

sanctuary || a tarlos fic

chapter 2/3 read on ao3

It’s been one month since TK packed up his life and headed to Austin for a fresh start. In a new city, he struggles with between defeating old demons and reinventing himself. On a night when he feels close to falling through the cracks, he meets Officer Carlos Reyes, a man who could very well be his salvation.

Two days of casual texting since running into Carlos earlier in the week has led TK to trying out what Carlos promises to be the best meal he’ll ever have. It’s a pretty tall order but TK is more than willing to test out Carlos’ theory. After all, it means actual face to face time with the man he’s quite eager to know better.

Carlos steps up to the truck and begins talking with the staff in Spanish, conversing and placing their orders. TK’s understanding of the language goes as far as twelfth grade and even still, he barely remembers much aside from the basics. He’s only able to piece together a few bits here and there. Regardless, it doesn’t take much for him to see that Carlos is truly a regular at this truck and that the staff genuinely likes him. That doesn’t come as a surprise to TK. Carlos is kindhearted and people like that tend to draw in others like the sun.

As they wait for their order, TK takes in the area around him, the sights, the sounds, and of course the smells. His stomach is practically doing flips and growling the longer he stands around breathing in the delicious smells of meat and peppers and whatever else is being made inside each neighboring truck.

“Come here often?” he muses, using the cheesy pickup line to kick off conversation.

Carlos laughs and nods. “Yeah, it’s my absolute favorite in all of Travis County. It might actually be better than my tía Lucy’s. But if you ever tell her I said that, I will have no other choice but to lie and say I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

TK mimes zipping his lips, tossing away the imaginary key for good measure. “Your secret’s safe with me, I promise.”

Carlos is about to speak when one of the ladies inside the truck calls his name. He turns and heads back to the truck, thanking her and taking the food she hands over. TK spots an empty bench and hurries over to it, taking a seat, Carlos sitting right across from him a few seconds later.

“God, this smells amazing,” TK notes, unwrapping his burrito from its foil and taking a considerable bite. He stifles a moan but doesn’t shy away from tossing his head back. “Holy shit, that’s incredible.”

Carlos laughs at the theatrics. “Like I said, hands down the best in town.”

“I definitely have to come back here soon. Is tomorrow too sudden?” he jokes.

They fall into a comfortable silence as they eat. Every now and then he looks over at Carlos and on some instances, he finds the other man glancing at him too.

“So, what is that you do?” Carlos asks conversationally after a time.

TK licks his lips, pulling in the lower one. It’s a harmless question, in general, but for TK it’s actually a loaded one. When making the move down to Austin, he also made the tough decision not to hop back into work. The time for himself is certainly needed but it makes him anxious thinking about having to explain why he isn’t currently part of the 126.

“I’m a firefighter. Or I was. I’m taking a bit of a break right now,” he finally settles on. It’s a half truth as he hasn’t fully explained but the last thing he wants is to unload all his drama on a man he’s only just met a few days ago.

Carlos considers his words and nods, dipping one of his chips into salsa. TK prepares himself for an onslaught of follow-up questions but they never come. Instead, Carlos gives a response he wasn’t expecting at all.

“I can understand that,” he says, popping the chip into his mouth and making quick work of finishing it off before he speaks again. “What we do isn’t easy. Sometimes you need to take time to recharge before heading back out there again. In order to really help others, we have to be at our best.”

TK can only stare at him. He was so sure Carlos was going to hound him with questions about what prompted the break but instead he opted not to pry at all. TK wasn’t used to that sort of thing. Most people would make it their personal mission to find out the details but not Carlos. Relief soon washes over TK.

“Yeah, definitely. I plan on getting back into the swing of things soon, though. Until then, I just live vicariously through my dad. He’s the new captain over at the 126. Whenever I’m ready, I’ll be working alongside him.”

A part of TK is chomping at the bit to get back to his old routine but he knows he still needs a bit more time to feel as if he’s standing on solid, stable ground again.

“Wait, seriously? My best friend is the EMS captain there.”

“Michelle Blake? No way, I’ve met her a few times. She seems pretty great.”

Carlos nods enthusiastically and laughs. “Damn, maybe you’re right and this town really is too small,” he muses, TK not missing the reference back to their conversation outside the boba shop.

“See? Six degrees of separation is too high of a count for this place.”

Carlos tosses a chip at him but TK is fast and swats it down to the table.

“Jerk. Is that any way to treat your new friend? You wouldn’t want to go giving me the wrong impression of your precious Austin, now would you?”

Carlos makes a face and it’s undoubtedly one of the cutest things TK has ever seen.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

“Oh, man,” TK laughs, “you have no idea.”

~*~*~

At lunch, TK finds himself incapable of looking away from his screen. He and Carlos have been chatting since morning with Carlos sending him updates and random pictures of odd things he sees while out shopping with his aunt Lucy. TK has seen everything from ridiculous items for sale at a thrift store to Carlos frowning in a chair with Lucy’s purse on his lap, reflected in the store’s mirror while his aunt is in the changing room. This most recent image is instantly followed with a text reading “SOS!”

TK grins at his phone, zooming in on Carlos’ face. The furrowed brows, the pleading brown eyes, the pout. It’s almost too much for him to handle.

“Earth to TK. Are you with me here, bud?” Owen says.

TK snaps his head upward, finally tearing his eyes away from his phone. “What’s that now?”

Owen shakes his head and laughs, lightly kicking at his leg. “My god, where is your head today?”

TK smiles bashfully and shakes his head. “Right here on my shoulders.”

“Could have fooled me. I could have sworn I saw it floating in the clouds. What’s going on with you?”

TK opens his mouth to speak but closes it back, shifting in his seat to turn to face his father. Try as he might, TK cannot erase the wide smile that breaks across his lips the second he looks at him, his thoughts already filling up so deeply with images of Carlos’ face. A part of him feels silly for being this caught up with someone he’s just befriended but he and Carlos have spoken every day for the last two weeks. Carlos is truly his first and last thought each day. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all in one breath just how much they’ve grown close to each other. It leaves TK’s head spinning.

“You met someone, didn’t you?” Owen says, his grin mirroring his son’s perfectly.

“Wow, you beat me to it.”

“To be fair, it wasn’t exactly a hard guess to make. Tell me all about him.”

TK draws in a deep breath to collect himself. “His name is Carlos and he is…kind of unreal,” he laughs. He can feel his cheeks warming up. “I don’t know. We talk all the time and it’s just…nice? Normal. It’s good to have a friend in this city.”

“A friend, hmm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Owen holds up his hands, letting out a playful laugh. “Nothing, nothing. Friends are great to have but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get this worked up over one before.”

“Yeah, well, Carlos is a special friend. It’s different with him.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” his father says, lifting his brows.

“Seriously, it’s not like that. At least it can’t be right now.”

Owen’s smile fades from his face as he looks at his son and TK can feel a sinking sensation in his chest. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a less than platonic pull towards Carlos but the man knew nothing of his last relationship and the major impact it had on him. There were still so many secrets, ugly truths that TK hadn’t shared yet and was, truthfully, terrified to ever do so. Things with Carlos were light and carefree. For someone like TK who had been living so long with a darkness in him, he wanted to preserve this kind of joy for as long as possible. He thought perhaps it made him selfish to a certain degree but he couldn’t help it. For the first time in over a month, he felt weightless. A feeling like that was too rare and he was in no position to pass it up.

“Why do you say that?”

TK scoffs and shakes his head. “Come on, dad. We both know why we’re down here in the first place. Look at what happened the last time I fell hard for someone.”

“But look at how far you’ve come since then,” his father counters. “Look, you may have a real chance at something great here, whatever it may be. It’s been over a month now, TK. I think it’s time you start taking some wins. You’ve more than earned them. I haven’t seen you this happy in ages.”

TK swallows the lump in his throat, the guilt that rises like bile. His life and actions didn’t only have consequences he had to face. While he knew his father didn’t hold it against him, TK couldn’t help but to feel responsible for them upending their lives and moving away from home.

“I don’t want to wreck this. Carlos is a good guy. Genuinely good, you know? I don’t want to mess that up or put anything bad on him. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Owen searches his face but TK can’t bear it and looks away, back to his plate.

“Tell me about him. How’d you two even meet?”

TK hesitates, fumbling with his fork and turning it over in his hand. He still hasn’t mentioned his panic attack out on the bridge that night. After all, he’d returned home in a better mood than when he left and had been fine in the weeks since so it didn’t seem like something worth mentioning or making his father concerned over. But now, being asked so plainly about how he met Carlos, it feels like something he needs to disclose. TK was skilled at hiding things but he made a vow to himself on the plane ride from JFK to Austin-Bergstrom Airport that he’d truly turn over a new leaf and maintain transparency with his father going forward.

He licks his lips and clears his throat before speaking, avoiding his father’s gaze until he finally speaks.

“When I went out running a few weeks back, I sort of…had a moment. My head was kinda all over the place and I needed a break.”

Owen shifts in his seat, his eyes glued on his son. It was such a bittersweet thing having a father that cared so much at times. On one hand, TK was comforted in knowing that his dad was always willing to listen but on the other, it made him dread his father hearing all the less than pleasant things he had to say from time to time.

“What do you mean?”

TK sets his fork down. “I don’t know. I was thinking a lot about Alex and it just got to feel like too much so I stopped out on the bridge to get myself together.”

“TK—”

“God, no! Not like that. Sorry.” TK sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “It just so happened that I stopped there. I swear, dad. Anyway, clearly it looked troubling because Carlos was on duty and he came up to me to make sure everything was alright. He got called away to an active B&E and I thought that was the last time I’d see him. But literally the next day, after group, we bumped into each other downtown and exchanged numbers.”

Owen settles back against his seat, his fingers splayed on the dining room table. TK watches the parade of emotions that flit across his father’s face from fear to uncertainty to controlled hurt.

“I should have told you more about that night,” TK admits. “I just didn’t want you to worry. I’m so tired of making you worry.”

Owen places a hand on TK’s shoulder and gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Whether you tell me everything or not, I’m always going to worry. That just comes with the gig of being a dad. But what makes it easier is if we’re on the same page at all times.”

TK meets his father’s gaze and nods, worrying his bottom lip. Owen sighs softly and drops his hand, trading a concerned look for a warm smile.

“So, Carlos is a cop. What an interesting first responder pair you guys make,” he teases.

TK is glad for the joke as it alleviates some of the tension in his chest. He laughs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s crazy; what are the odds, right?”

Something warm glints in his father’s eyes and TK is almost moved to tears because of it. He can admit he’s been particularly hard on himself over the last month and a half, so convinced that he shouldn’t even allow himself to move on from Alex. He feared he wasn’t ready and that he couldn’t be trusted. But already, in such a short time, he was willing to give a part of himself to Carlos. He didn’t stand much of a chance, in truth. He couldn’t imagine a single person who wouldn’t be disarmed by the other man.

Owen searches his face for a moment as TK focuses back on their conversation.

“Looks like the tide’s starting to turn for you down here in Austin; things are really picking up. Maybe meeting Carlos is just the thing to make you more comfortable.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he parrots. I hope, he thinks.

~*~*~

The next day TK is in his room folding laundry when his phone lights up on his bed. TK cranes his neck to read the text from Carlos.

Hey, you busy tonight?

TK puts down the shirt in his hand and grabs his phone to reply, seeing that Carlos is already typing out another message to him. He waits for it to come in.

If you are, feel free to ignore me. I know it’s kind of short notice to be making plans.

TK can only roll his eyes to this. How many times and how many ways does he have to show Carlos he has nothing else going on in the Austin? And even if he did, Carlos would always be the better option; any plans he may have had could easily be tossed to the backburner.

Ah, yes, let me check my oh so busy schedule. Please hold.

A few seconds later he sends:

Hmm, sitting around the house doing nothing. Online shopping. Scrolling through social media right before bed...yeah, sorry. Booked solid for the evening, I’m afraid

He takes a moment to appreciate his own humor before his phone is vibrating with an incoming call from Carlos.

“How may I help you?” he greets.

“Do you make it your mission every day to be a pain in the neck?” Carlos’ voice is so light and teasing it makes TK’s heart clench in his chest. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the way they complement each other so perfectly.

“We all have special skills in life. One of mine just happens to be pushing your buttons, what can I say?”

Carlos groans and sighs. “What have I gotten myself into?” There’s no bite to it. If anything, TK can practically see the smile he knows is painted on Carlos’ lips right now.

“I told you there was no going back. So, what’s going on tonight?”

“Ah, right. I thought we could hang out and I could take you to one of my favorite bars downtown.”

TK’s shoulders stiffen at the mention of a bar. He hasn’t stepped foot in one in what feels like forever. He knows he isn’t obligated to drink and that Carlos probably wouldn’t even notice or care if he didn’t indulge. It’s just been easier to eliminate the temptation by steering clear altogether. But a Friday night out with Carlos isn’t something he can shy away from, especially not when Carlos sounds excited to share something special to him.

“Yeah, I could go for that,” he replies.

“Yeah? Great. I’ll text you the address and we could meet up around 9 or so. I hope you’re ready for some dancing.”

“Is this going to be a hoedown? A real, genuine Texan hoedown?”

Carlos’ laugh is strong and clear. TK feels like patting himself on the back for job well done. His favorite thing these last two weeks has been making that sound come about. It does something to his heart to know that Carlos is happy, mainly because of him.

“Yup. I’m looking forward to seeing your moves, New York.”

“I won’t disappoint. I can promise you that much.”

“I never had a doubt.”

TK opens his mouth to reply but can’t. His heart is racing and all he can picture is the two of them out on the dance floor, moving together. It’s an image that lays down roots in his mind and grows so large it’s all he can see.

“Damn, I have to get back to work but I’ll see you tonight, alright?” Carlos says, bringing TK back to the present moment. “I’ll send you the address in just a minute. See ya.”

The call ends before TK can even get a word out but he figures that’s for the best. Carlos has managed to stun him into silence, a feat not many people are capable of.

So maybe his budding friendship is proving to have more weight to it than he wants it to. All the telltale signs of a crush are there, regardless of if TK is ready for them to be or not. It’s not as if he had much of a choice, he reasons. Right from the start Carlos caught his eye and every day that they’ve spoken since has only served to strengthen that. The other man would make such offhanded remarks but TK had to wonder if Carlos was even aware or if it just came by so naturally that he truly didn’t notice. TK wasn’t sure which he preferred.

If Carlos wasn’t being intentional in his flirting, then they were truly just friends and he could be okay with that. Simply having someone to talk to so frequently that wasn’t related to him was a major win. But if there was some sort of hidden code behind his words, TK was almost nervous about uncovering it. In a life post-Alex, he hadn’t been prepared for the possibility of meeting someone he could actually see himself with. But maybe he was alone in thinking there was even something here. And that, TK knew above anything else, was the worst conclusion of all.

~*~*~

“I don’t know what I was expecting but this wasn’t it,” TK says as he and Carlos enter the bar.

“Maybe you’ve seen too many movies? It’s clouding your judgement.” Carlos bumps his shoulder lightly against TK’s arm.

“You might have a point there.”

It’s a lively night and the place is comfortably filled with people already out on the dance floor, moving along to the music being played by a live band in the corner. TK stays close to Carlos’ side even though the place isn’t that crowded and they aren’t likely to get separated. But Carlos doesn’t seem bothered by their proximity. He merely throws a warm smile over his shoulder at him as he leads them to the bar and TK does his best not to melt right there on the spot.

“What are you drinking?” Carlos asks, holding up his fingers to signal the bartender.

“I’m good with mineral water for now,” he replies casually, his eyes fixed on Carlos to see his reaction but the man simply nods and orders for them when the bartender comes over, opening a tab.

If there’s one thing TK has been learning about Carlos these last few weeks is that he doesn’t push in the way virtually everyone else he knows would have. TK appreciates that more than he’ll probably ever be able to express to Carlos.

He takes the glass Carlos hands him, slick with condensation and thanks him. TK is unable to pull his eyes away from Carlos’ mouth as it takes a sip from his beer bottle, his throat going a little dry. He soothes it with a swig of his mineral water and averts his gaze and instead focuses on something safer like the crowd of people dancing. The music becomes a bit more folky and the footwork a bit more intricate but TK is fairly confident he can follow along easily enough.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Carlos says, forcing TK to glance back at him.

“What? About me dancing? Pfft, I can hold my own out there.”

Carlos eyes him from top to bottom and back again. It’s such a simple move and yet it makes TK’s skin tingle to be held in his gaze. Not for the first time since meeting Carlos, he wonders what the man thinks when he looks at him. Smugly, he hopes Carlos feels the energy between them too. Surely, he does, TK reasons. There was nothing casual about that look just now.

“Alright, let’s see it then.” Carlos downs the rest of his beer and sets it down on the bar. TK follows suit, finishing off his drink in kind.

He isn’t expecting Carlos to reach for his hand but he gives it up willingly, feeling warmth course through him that has absolutely nothing to do with being surrounded by people. Carlos leads them right to the center of the dance floor, a large smile on his face. He doesn’t waste a single second in falling into line with everyone else. TK does his best, trying hard not to look at his feet. That’d be a dead giveaway that line dancing is kind of a foreign concept to him. He manages well enough after a few seconds.

“There you go,” Carlos encourages.

TK can’t take his eyes off him. There’s something just so alluring about watching Carlos move freely, completely at ease and assured in his movements.

They keep dancing for a while, TK relaxing into it and matching Carlos beat for beat. The music eventually changes to something slower, couples remaining on the dancefloor and settling in close to each other. TK looks around at everyone before glancing to Carlos who gives him a questioning look. TK gives a small smile, silent confirmation that he doesn’t mind having this dance with Carlos. He keeps his eyes on Carlos’ face, trying to decipher the expression in them. It’s like he can see it all in real time, Carlos making the decision to try for something a little more. The man brings his face closer but TK stiffens in his hold and takes a step back.

“I think I’m gonna get some air. Just a sec,” he says, pursing his lips and walking off.

He’s cursing himself for panicking and being a coward. The most frustrating thing is knowing that had he been in a different place mentally, he absolutely would have followed through on kissing Carlos. He’s spent a fair bit of time over the last two weeks picturing what that would feel like. Here it was now the opportunity was presenting itself and TK’s initial reaction was to run.

He stands outside of the bar, leaning against the building with his eyes closed, replaying the exchange over and over.

“Do you just want to get out of here?” he hears Carlos say. When he opens his eyes, Carlos is standing right in front of him, his face unreadable. “We could go for a drive, if that’s alright with you.”

TK pulls in a breath and nods. What he wants to do is apologize a million times and let Carlos know that none of this is his fault. Carlos is truly perfect, almost scarily so as far as TK is concerned. He can barely take the shift in Carlos’ mood. Not even five minutes ago the man was smiling brightly. Now he looked unsure and uneasy, all because of TK. If he could have even a minute to explain, TK would be grateful. A car ride with just the two of them was ideal.

Carlos nods too and leads the way over to his car, the two of them climbing inside. Neither of them says a word as Carlos brings the car to life and begins to drive. TK knows he should be the one to break the silence but his thoughts are a riot in his mind and nothing makes sense. Every time he starts to form a sentence in his head, the words don’t sound right. Carlos keeps driving, eventually coming up to an empty area.

He stops the car and looks over at TK. In his eyes is fear and concern, so much so that TK feels guilty, already able to see that Carlos blames himself for the awkwardness earlier. It’s so incorrect and misdirected but Carlos is already speaking before TK can even dispel the man’s thoughts.

“I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Carlos’ chest rises and falls heavily. TK isn’t used to seeing him uneasy and it doesn’t sit well.

“God, Carlos, no. You didn’t—I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

TK sighs and tilts his head back against his seat. The silence in the car presses down on his ears but he needs a few seconds to get his thoughts in order.

“The whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing completely applies here, as cliché as it is,” he starts out, turning his head to look at Carlos.

Carlos’ expression is so serious, like he’s truly giving his full attention over to TK, like he sincerely wants to understand what he’s thinking or how he can help. The level of kindness and sincerity Carlos has shown him since day one is unparalleled and given how his last relationship ended, TK is in awe of the fact that someone is willing to extend this generosity to him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. In time, I really do want to share it with you because I think you could be good for me. Knowing you has already been good for me and you don’t even realize it.”

TK swallows thickly before pressing on. Carlos remains perfectly still, searching his face. TK can’t help the fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. This man owes him nothing and yet here he is, willing to hear him out.

“I was a bit of a mess back home. I was in a pretty serious relationship that sort of blew up in my face and I just…I couldn’t stay in the city anymore. My dad got offered the job down here and the timing…it seemed like the univere’s way of giving me something of a clean slate. I’m not where I want to be exactly but I’m working on it.”

He stops short then, his breathing shaky. This was more than he thought he’d share with Carlos this early on and while it feels scary to admit to such heavy things, it’s also freeing. Carlos may be new to his life but every instinct of TK’s is telling him that he can trust this man beside him.

Carlos finally moves, reaching out and holding onto TK’s hand. He doesn’t lace their fingers or anything, just simply holds on to it, as if reminding TK that there’s someone here with him. TK’s eyes start to sting with unshed tears.

“Thank you for telling me,” Carlos says. “I know it couldn’t have been easy. We don’t…I’m just happy to be your friend, honest. We don’t have to make something of this. Seriously, just knowing you is enough.”

Despite his best efforts to stop them, TK can feel traitorous tears running down his cheeks but he can’t find it within himself to be embarrassed over it. Being around Carlos is like existing in a judgement free zone. With his free hand, he wipes at his face and Carlos gives him a soft smile. The sight alone is like a balm over TK’s hurt.

Carlos leans forward, resting his forehead against TK’s. It’s such a tender expression that TK’s breath hitches and his heart skips a beat.

“You’re going to be okay,” Carlos says softly, confidently as if he has some crystal ball that can predict this.

Either way, TK gladly takes the assurance as a fact, clinging to that promise like a life raft in a heavy storm.

[m00nlitknight]

wherever i may roam. ( 1 of 2 )

fandom: IT (2017) pairing:  patrick hockstetter / female reader word count:   2.1k+ warnings:  underage drinking. loud scenes. men being creepy. patrick being patrick. extra: based heavily off one of these prompts.  part two in the works!  i hope you all enjoy this, and have a fantastic day c:

Having parties wasn’t a known rarity within the ranks of Derry, but they weren’t a known phenomenon on a superficial level, either.  Within the ranks of upper class high schoolers, they were typically done in the fashion of a small circle of friends rather than anything colossal.  Those instances and occasions of plenty were saved for the rare event of a musical guest.  While the quality of the music wasn't considered a static variable, the fun and energy that ensued from the crowd - teens and college students, usually - was.  For that, many found themselves grateful for the bands, even if they were bad metal covers of pop songs, cover bands for hot acts that didn’t make tour stops in Maine, or just song-writers who were trying to make it in the world of music.

You couldn’t complain -- you shouldn’t, really.  Being the daughter of a well-off lawyer whose business was usually taken out of town, and a girl with a reputation to upkeep; these events didn’t just fly under your radar, they were on a completely different radar altogether.  It sucked, really, to be thrust into expectations you didn’t care to uphold, but not having the might to fight back.  So, you did what you could and lived with it.

However, living with it meant blatantly going against the rule of social rules, society, and your father all the while being directly under their nose.  It was a needle-thin line to walk, but one you felt you walked with confidence and care.

Which, is how you managed to sneak out of the house undetected and attend the concert that had been whispered within the school the previous week.  Spoken from under the bleachers, overheard from the bathroom by those who smoked and considered themselves too cool for the joint; who knew your keen sense of hearing would become so useful?

From the moment your father bid you a sterile adieu, composed of a hollow embrace and chaste kiss to the head, you had begun putting your plans in motion.  Wherever he went, likely to a hotel for whatever trial was taking place early the next morning, or whatever, you couldn’t find it in yourself to particularly care.

Looking the part of a ‘typical’ metalhead wasn’t something you were truly infatuated with to any degree.  Sure, putting on the guise of torn jeans, fishnets, boots, and whatever decimated t-shirt you could find was a great bound of comfort compared to the typical stuffy outfits you had, but it felt tiring to have not just one, but two kinds of social guises to keep up.  Polar opposites, at that.  Surely, you deserve an award for it.

You ease the vehicle into park, a full street away from the actual event, to ensure the protection of the metallic body of your car.  Next, you lean to look yourself in the eye -- eyes rimmed with a sharp black, smudged with burgundy eyeshadow, and lips done with a simple gloss.  Had you any actual lip colors, you would’ve reached for them instead.  You stare for a moment longer, admiring the well-pointed wing extending your likely bored resting face.

Stud earrings and a lazily done ponytail completed your look, the rest of your outfit accented with bits of silver jewelry you couldn’t find it in yourself to truly care about.  Several rings were on your fingers, simple silver bands you had bought from thrift stores recently.  In the frosty, night air you wore a black cardigan over a simple black tank top.  Nondescript, you hope, and would allow you to simply blend into the background.  A simple, forgettable face in the crowd.  Exhaling, you prepare yourself for the night to come and push the car open.

The music, likely booming from the basement, lilts through the air with jagged electricity, and it manages to translate into your veins with a faint tingle in your fingers.  You grin to yourself, already feeling the exhilaration to come.  Around the premises of the home a multitude of cars appear parked, which has you thanking your mind for avoiding the mess of it.  Multiple parked on the curbside, in the driveway, and also on the lawn.  The image of the destroyed grass and streaky soil has you cringing internally, for the remembrance of the hard work that likely went into the landscaping.  

The open, and partially wrecked, door frame is but a glance into the chaos that took place shortly after the sun laid itself to daily rest.  Broken electronics, a lamp, a shattered glass coffee table, and a bloody and unconscious stranger lying all in view.  Suddenly, you felt thankful for the thick and hard soles of your boots, and preyed your balance wouldn’t be giving out on you anytime soon.

As you draw closer you hear the music increase in volume, and can only imagine the ear-shattering havoc occurring just down the stairs.  A sudden shriek to your left rips you from your foot hitting the entryway of the door, instead whipping to a sudden figure being body slammed through what you assumed was the living room window.  You felt a wave of relief wash over you at the fact that this wasn’t your home, but a resounding ripple of pity for whoever actually owned the place.

You quickly stepped past and shuffled through the living room, leaving the unnamed duo to brawl, the more coherent shouting briefly as a greeting.  Quickly you found the kitchen, from the trail of empty and shredded beer cans, to the demolished and alarming amount of disposable cups, you snickered to yourself quietly.  The volume increased as you moved more into the building, most of the partygoers sticking to their own groups and remaining calm.  Wherever the violent action was, it was bound to be nearer to the actual band.

In the corner do you find one of the kegs, swiftly making yourself a drink and turning back to the face of a stranger.  Ebony hair, gel-slicked to perfection, deep brown eyes, and a teetering stance; he eyes you with curiosity and an underlying sense of something else.  You shift uncomfortably when he registers your attention on him.

“Y’from here?” he slurs, prodding your shoulder aggressively.

“Nope,” a bold-faced lie, coupled with nonchalant disinterest.  “You?”

“Nah, from, uh...Place a’ways from here,”  he gestures with both hands, drink-filled cup sloshing with the movement and liquid threatening to spill from the open top.  He leans down to your level.   “Where y’from, doll?”

“Don’t quite think I’ll share where I’m from with a guy who won’t even tell me his name before getting my address,” you cringe at the stench of beer heavy on his breath and lean back.

“Oh, uhhh...Name’s, fuckin’...Michael, y’can call me Mike, though,” a grin overtakes his features while your frown deepens.

“Alright, Mike, I’ll see’ya around,”  you attempt to shift around him, to shuffle out from the keg-corner only to be blocked.

“N’awww, c’mon?  I was polite, or whatever, ain’t’cha gonna tell me your name, dollface?”

“No, now let me through.”

“Or what, kitten?”

Outwardly you groan at the intrusion of your space, and also the blatant annoyance of him.  His turns nearly primal while the music gets louder, a crescendo you knew you would likely have trouble yelling over.

A thin, pale finger with several rings taps itself on his shoulder, from a form you were unable to see.  Michael turns around, aggravation apparent while he begins, “Can’t’cha see we’re busy h--”

He’s cut off by a jarring and strength-filled punch, falling awkward and stone-cold out on your shoulder and kegs.  You watch him fall, as though it happens in slow motion, eyes wide and nearly dropping your drink.  Upon turning your head you come eye-to-eye with someone who could put you in an even worse position and you feel a faint sliver of fear scurry up your spine.  Patrick Hockstetter.

“Kitten,” he starts, with a deadly vocal tone which could only be described as velvet draped over gravel.  You want to cringe.  “That your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“Ew, no,”  No gentle care is taken into shoving the unconscious boy’s body from yours and onto the matted, once shaggy carpeting.  “Just a fuckin’ creep who didn’t know where or when to stop.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes, momentary, and he grins to himself while grabbing something to drink.  It makes you uneasy, to see someone who knows everyone at your school.  Your arms cross as you move to leave, until his voice speaks over the music once again.

“What brings a girl like you to a place like this?”  It makes you realize just how close he’s managed to get to you, lips near your ear as though his presence engulfs you.  “Careful, princess, or you just might get devoured.”

“I--”  a short-lived stammer as he turns and throws an arm over your shoulders, causing you to tense.

“S’okay!  I’ll be but a chaperone so you aren’t found dead by sunrise.”

“Wait,” just barely croaked out, and obviously no hindrance as he begins dragging you from the corner and into the rest of the party.

He takes you down the stairs, a bouncy lack of care going into his lengthened strides and whether or not you were able to keep up.  You hold onto him, sliding an arm around his waist to try and keep balance while staring down at the floor to make sure you weren’t about to fall over.

At the bottom level is what managed to always ignite a feeling of excitement in you, set ablaze the adrenaline and flames of hardy teenage violence.  A mosh pit had formed and the destruction stopped just shy of the stairs.  In the air is the heavy scent of leather, sweat, and iron; all of which attacking with the force of animalistic glee.  The air feels heavy, like it’s weighing down on your shoulders.  Timidly, you steal a glance up at Patrick, who’s managed to get a lit cigarette betwixt his fingers and discard his drink in the time you’d been adhered to his side.  He takes a long drag and licks his lips, smoke emulating the carnage of a dragon, if you could compare him to such a beast.

He looks down at you and says something you’re unable to hear over the music, and had it not been for the sheer volume, you’d likely find it to be one of the more enjoyable acts to grace Derry with its presence.  His arm unwinds from around your shoulder and he plants a kiss on your forehead, to which has you reeling, before stepping into the pit and leaving you alone.

It feels unnerving, to suddenly be rid of the boy who’d claimed himself the role of your ‘evening security blanket,’ but to suddenly fear the repercussions.  Eyes you know are locked on opponents or the evening’s stand feel locked on you, and you feel socially naked at the foot of the basement’s stairs with both hands wrapped around a red solo cup.

You gulp after losing sight of him among the dim room and other black-haired aggressors, taking to maneuvering yourself to a couch sat beside a grandfather clock on the outskirts of the fighting and staring into the lukewarm cup.  Sips are taken from it, carefully, while a couple does what you can only describe as practically eating one another’s faces.

As time passes you begin to feel more cramped, not so much that eyes are on you any longer, but more so that the time to leave is rapidly approaching.  A brief glance at the clock registers it as 11:50 p.m., and you feel a slight pang in your gut that the time to move is now.  

You set the plastic cup on the coffee table in front of you and start off, without much of a care for who would be the poor soul to clean it up.  The stairs are ascended quickly, and alarms in your mind begin to go off fervently.  Wherever your evening’s chaperone had gone, he wasn’t worth getting potentially arrested for.  The kitchen and living room are passed briskly, and while the quick removal of such loud noises is nothing short of disorienting, the sound of approaching sirens is enough to sober you completely.

The yard is left in the dust as you take to a full-sprint down the street, mentally cursing yourself for even coming in the first place.  Wherever the authorities were, you knew that potentially crossing paths with them would be a death wish.

You only slow down and exhale when you’re in your car seat, key jammed in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life.  Speeding home probably wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you can’t help the lead foot and lady luck allowing you to swing into the driveway with no detection.

Is this true nirvana, you wonder, narrowly escaping the law after a gut feeling in a place you weren’t even meant to be?  Whatever the case, you knew sleep would either be impossible to grasp, or come the moment it hit your pillow.

[draculaurennn]

22, 30, 15, , 2 - worm

17, 23, 1, 8- candelle

24,18,19,31- ophie

— 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕓𝕤𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 — (i’m a million years late answering this bc of school and also bc of anxiety abt my characters again :’) sorry 

— 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕 . aka loud leopard-dragonkin lesbian 

2.) do they consider themselves an optimist? Pessimist? Realist? What are they like in actuality? Wormwood likes to consider herself an optimist, at least out loud. She often finds herself torn amongst her party members and, despite her chaotic disposition, in effort to maintain peace when things go awry. (It’s rare, but it does happen.) That means that whatever strife they’re facing, she wants to be the one to grin as widely as she can and tell them it’s nothing they can’t handle - and so far, it hasn’t been!  Inside, Wormwood is much more reflective. She had to leave her partner behind for months, and as much as she liked to tell herself it couldn’t possibly damage their bond, the realistic part of Wormwood knows that most people don’t handle being separated for months at a time very well. She’s willing to admit that of her own relationship, but if someone like Beloved worried about the same thing, Wormwood would perish that thought as quickly as she could.  (I ACTUALLY ALREADY ANSWERED 3 OF THESE FOR WORM HERE so i’m just gonna link back to em dfjhsdfsdh) —  𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖 . aka sad sad tears of a clown 1.) What does your character typically keep in their pockets? Candelle doesn’t keep anything extraordinary in her pockets. (She also doesn’t have much pocket space to begin with.) She tries to keep things like spare change and a pair of scissors, needle, and thread on her (for emergent sewing reasons) at all times, but she does usually wind up with the occasional wrapped candies. The only unnecessary things she keeps with her are pink rouge and a deck of oracle cards. 8.) What is something they cannot resist? Donuts. Candelle’s favourite food growing up was donuts - she favoured jelly-filled with sprinkles, and her mother would always let her have one when she was playing particularly well in their practice sessions. They remind Candelle of happy times with her mother, when she was little and her biggest worries in life were making friends with any new performers and whether or not a sprained ankle would heal in time for their next show.  Since joining the Zhentarim, Candelle finds them very rarely. They were made by a woman who lived with the circus when she was a child, and in Waterdeep she hasn’t found any that are particularly the same as the ones she had.  17.) Does your character swear? What's their favorite phrase/word? No, Candelle doesn’t really swear - and if she does, it’s done so subconsciously that she wouldn’t remember she said it. It’s not really on principal, either, she just tries hard to be very gentle-handed with her words, and to her, swearing would not help get her point across.  23.) Would your character want to be famous? Why or why not? Probably not. Candelle doesn’t really think much about herself as a performer anymore. When she was little, she wanted to be a famous performer and have people come from all over to see her. She wanted to be so spectacular that she transformed into a fairy and people would be in awe of her dance and performance that they would go home feeling magical. Since then, the veil of innocence has been lifted substantially from her eyes. She won’t readily admit this to anyone, but Candelle doesn’t really know if there’s such a thing as providing pure joy. There are fleeting feelings, but they’re just illusions. That isn’t what she wants to put into the world. She never wants her actions to be a temporary bandage, and so fame and all of it’s sparkling lights has lost a lot of its gilding for her.  Candelle actually isn’t sure what she would do once she’s completed her goals. She prefers not to try and think about it, because she doesn’t want to distract herself from her resolution.  — 𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕒 . aka series of unfortunate events in a 30 yr old woman who is legally only 3 18.) How does your character act when they want to seem inviting? Ophelia is pretty unassuming as a person overall. She’s very tiny, and her face is rather sad; there’s nothing innately intimidating about her. She doesn’t have to do a lot to convince people to lower their guard around her, but she seems to be quite awkward when she thinks she’s being comforting. (In fact, the record number of children she has made cry on accident in this campaign is kind of insane.)  If she was going out of her way to try and be welcoming, she might not know where to begin because she doesn’t think she’s “unwelcoming” to begin with. Forcing a smile is probably awkward. Putting her hair back makes her self-conscious. If it was a desperate thing, then perhaps she could sink into another false facade like Bethany, the cheerful and stab-happy gang recruit, but she does hate to quit being Ophelia. Maybe put her knives away? Offer tea? She just doesn’t know.  19.) How does your character act when they want to seem threatening? A threatening Ophelia is somewhat easier. Her eldritch inclination, missing arm, and collection of suspicious vials of liquid is usually enough to rattle nerves for strangers. (Despite her charisma, Ophelia is never the party member who should do the talking.) If she wanted to strike fear in the hearts of others, then peeling off her face to reveal a new one, summoning tentacles from the dark void, or smiling seems to do the trick for her. 

24.) What's a controversial food opinion they would have? Ophelia hates bacon. It’s the absolute worst thing you can give her. She’s eaten it on very few, rare occasions, because it was all they had or Hakem was kind enough to make breakfast, but she would rather scrape her teeth on a blackboard or stab herself in the eyes with needles than eat bacon. It’s greasy, it smells rotten, and it’s worse than her hatred for salt-cured or jerkied meats.  31.) Can your character visualize actual concepts in their head? Or are they just vague thoughts? Ophelia can visualize concepts, but she cannot convert them into understandable descriptions or images. For instance, the theory of music having a shape association is something Ophelia actually can envision, where a triangle appears at a crescendo or a squiggle accentuates a held note. However, she could not begin to draw this, nor could she even explain why she can envision such a thing. It may be a side-effect of the synthetic brain.