#the material component might just be a me thing but it helps to keep focus having a little lighe in the moment of endless darkness

[seashaper]

Shadow Step

Shadowmancy Cantrip S, M (a glow-in-the-dark accessory) Casting time: 1 bonus action Range: 30 feet Duration: Instantaneous

The shadows form a path between places for those quick and careful enough to walk them. If you are standing in or enter a shadow you can fit through, you may teleport to a similarly shaded space you can see within 30 feet. If you are invisible through the use of a magical effect that would be dispelled if you were to cast a spell, casting this cantrip does not dispel that effect.

WARNING: Shadow travel is dangerous and lingering too long between destinations may cause one to be trapped in stasis in the shadows. Do not attempt to use this spell beyond the established range or without a clear and usable target destination.

[galedekarios]

the netherese orb: consequences for gale and his connection to magic

i wrote a post a while ago focusing on the physical ailments that the orb was causing gale, and i had a really interesting exchange with another user on it:

@dark-videogamer: I just noticed it myself, which for me implies that as the orb is consuming his weave, his life essence, it's also refusing to allow that part of the body to properly heal, like he's always internally bleeding or it's infected. (at least in my opinion) which makes me wonder how irreparable the damage is there. @galedekarios: i actually do have a post coming up on that! i want to focus on what the orb does to his magical ability in that post because i focused more on the physical aspect here. of course, they sort of go hand in hand for a wizard to a certain degree, but there are a few hints in the game. anyhow, sorry for rambling! i very much agree with you! it's def either is still consuming gale's own gifts and i think that's a reality he has to face after it's removed.

so this further inspired because i actually wanted to use this opportunity to look at how the orb might be affecting gale's magic / casting ability.

general stuff & how the physical impairments affect the casting of spells

first off, i want to note that both of these are of course intrinsically linked, not least of all because the orb is affecting everything a caster class needs to cast spells:

-general biological deterioration -muscle spasms -ringing in the ears -disorientation -concentration issues -varying levels of physical discomfort / pain

aside from the obvious things that would impair a caster (deterioriation, disorientation, pain, discomfort), concentration is incredibly important to maintain a spell. muscle spasms, too, would absolutely interfere with the somatic component of a spell:

The somatic component was a basic part of spellcasting. Many spells required the caster to make a motion to cast the spell. If the caster was unable to make the correct motion, the spell could not be cast.

i could add more here, of course, but i think it's fairly obvious how all of these mix together into something that would leave a wizard defenseless, and again, gale admits as much, too:

player: i fail to see why you need me to help you this. you’ve done fine without me so far. gale: A fair point - however, until recently I was able to rely on a supply of artefacts stored in my tower in Waterdeep. A supply that has now run dry. The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence. The manner of artefacts I need are not often found waiting patiently on a shop-keep’s shelf. One usually has to lift them delicately from trap-filled tombs or prise them from the hands of violent ne'erdowells.

the orb

but what consequences did the orb itself have?

we have several lines in the game, where characters are surprised that the orb didn't outright kill gale. gale himself knows this and the imagery we get when gale opens his mind to the protag and shares his story is incredibly violent:

the orb didn't kill him outright and it was a miracle that it didn't, both gale and mystra acknowledge this in-game.

but it left him incredibly weakened and with a condition that could still kill him if left untreated, as well as those around him.

what it did do instantly, however, is that it did consume his gifts.

again, both gale and mystra acknowledge this in-game:

Gale: Is that why you lied to me about the Crown of Karsus? Self-preservation? Mystra: My concern was the preservation of everything. The Karsite Weave could tear apart the very fabric of the Material Plane. That it entered your body and consumed no more than your powers was a miracle. But we will not be granted another. The only reason the 'orb' sleeps is because I have allowed it to feed on the true Weave - a temporary measure, but one that will not be enough to save us.

Gale: It sounds like the door to redemption is open at last. All I have to do is walk through it, carrying the Crown of Karsus. Player: Is that what you want? Gale: Perhaps. I see few other options open to me, if I ever want to reclaim those parts of myself the orb snatched away. If I ever want to be me again. Player: We're going to cure you Gale: Thank you. There aren't many I'd trust to stand beside me on such a journey. Fewer still who would do so because they believe I deserve such a chance.

so what are these gifts that were consumed exactly?

in early access, there used to be a scene with gale in act i that was commonly known as the loss scene, where he would be found in camp, cursing as he tries to cast a spell that he was once able to:

Gale: Khat-Tsjin Deth-Thra! Tav [Wizard]: That was a failed spell if ever I heard one.  Gale: Failure. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. It’s getting late. I think I’ll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. Tav: Is something wrong? Gale: Let’s just say not all is right. But that goes for all of us. Tav [Wizard]: I didn't recognize your hand gestures. What spell were you trying to cast? Gale: A bygone spell from a bygone age. It doesn't matter. Tav [weave romantic]: Come, you know I care about you. I showed you when we shared that spell [CHECK wizard] Gale: So you did. Very wel. Just now, I was trying to cast a spell I once cast with ease, but I failed. You see, this fire – there was a time that I could make it come alive. That it would take the shape of a dragon and roar in delight. There was a time I could silence a Beholder with a word, and lift a tower from its foundations with a flourish. There was a time I was all but one with the Weave. But no more – a mere shadow of the wizard I used to be. Why? Because I’ve lost. Tav: I don’t understand. What is it that you’ve lost? Gale: I’ve lost… Tav: [Insight] Go on. Every burden is easier to carry when shared. Gale: An apt enough observation.  I've... lost... Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. Tav: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. (Gale Disapproval)

this insight in just how great the magnitude of his loss in power as a wizard and, intrinsically linked to that, his ability as a wizard is entirely absent in the full release of the game.

while we do know that he was an archmage and we also know that he was a chosen of mystra, with all the gifts that may have entailed, we only get a very vague mention of the lost gifts and gale being a former shadow of who he used to be.

abilities of the chosen of mystra include:

Chosen of Mystra gained many benefits from her blessing. They held a greater command over spell, being able to cast even the highest tiers repeatedly. Doing so, however, was not encouraged by Azuth and Mystra (Midnight), as it required repeatedly tapping upon the weave. They also became more familiar with magic and able to detect its presence. In addition, many also developed immunities to magic, and eventually even immunities to disease and poison. They become much more hardy, showing a toughness uncharacteristic of most mages. Mystra's Chosen were also immune to the deleterious effects from the casting and wearing of a mantle: they suffered no loss of health or the removal of spells from their minds upon the raising of a mantle or the cumulative daily requirement of the spell. The Chosen also wielded silver fire, a unique raw magic that conjured a silvery flame with a variety of functions.

[source]

other interesting bits and pieces:

Chosen age, albeit slowly, and as they age their power becomes closer to equivalent level mortal wizards. They can steal bodies to prolong their lifespan, but if they choose not to they eventually die and return to the Weave until Mystra makes them a new body. Chosen still have access to Silver Fire and can manipulate their hair freely. Mystra has imposed restrictions on magic in some cases, such as making it physically painful to read minds. This applies to using weave-work to communicate long distance with 'regular' humans. Chosen have the ability to communicate to the weave-ghosts of other Chosen as well as living Chosen, but rarely seek to interrupt the lives of each other. Laeral can speak across distance with Storm, Alustriel and even Halaster. Chosen still don't need to sleep, but do need to enter Reverie to replenish their energy.

[source]

again, this is all not really mentioned in the game and it's sad because again, it adds a lot of context to gale as a character. the most that is hinted at, i believe, is elminster's incredibly long lifespan of several hundreds of years.

conclusion / consequences of removing the orb

this is just speculation on my part, so feel free to ignore this completely.

apart from the chronic ailments, we know from the arcane hunger status that the orb feeds on gale's very soul and that both gale and mystra acknowledge that the orb has consumed already gale's greatest gifts as a wizard.

we also know that tara and gale were not able to figure out immediately how to treat the orb after gale was afflicted by it. it was tara, who in their combined research, figured it out and it took them some time to do so.

on top of that, we know that gale had to live without said treatment for a while since he no longer had any magical items to consume and, in fact, i speculated it's a part of the reason why he may have left waterdeep behind and was captured on the nautiloid.

all this time, the orb was left with nothing to consume, with nothing to feed on, except what was within gale to give and the orb is ever-hungry.

i feel like this surely would have consequences even after the orb is rendered inert and then, later, implied to be removed by mystra:

one of the sadder outcomes could very well be that his ability to cast spells is permanently diminished or entirely cut off.

Thus comes the question: what is the Weave? It is an essential element of the universe. It runs through everything in unseen threads. It is what makes magic possible. — Excerpt from Magic of the Weave - An Introduction.

with the orb inside of him, left untreated for long intervals, it may have consumed a lot of gale's own weave, something that runs through all living souls, his ability to cast magic might be even smaller and weaker than now.

at best, it will take him some time after the game to recover, back home in waterdeep, with tara, with morena and a romanced protag and new friends.

at worst, and, with the knowledge that the orb consumed so much upon first entering his body, it may also be a possibility that gale could be stripped of magic entirely, but that's quite a cruel fate for him, someone who says that magic is their life.

[squireofgeekdom]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

oh this was tricky. if you ask me next week the answer will probably be different XD I tried to narrow it down by limiting myself to complete works that were also standalone

From most to least recent:

when you’re gone we won’t say a word (but you know that’s okay) Star Trek Strange New Worlds, S1E10, Alt Future Pike, Pike&Spock, 10.9k, Dec 2022

"“Time is, uh, is complicated. But the monks showed me something simple. Every time we change the path, he dies.” - alternate future Christopher Pike, ‘A Quality of Mercy’ “I wanted a voice that sounded like it had given up a little bit after lots of emotional turmoil. So I thought, what would my voice sound like if I had spent a lot of time sobbing and screaming? - Anson Mount, about playing the alternate future Pike in ‘A Quality of Mercy’ What took a Christopher Pike back to Boreth, and back to convince himself to accept his fate? What did he see?"

I knew I was going to end up writing this like, within hours of watching the episode. Time travel fridge horror, how could I resist? I struggled with how to end it and the bittersweet note I hit on made me cry the most.

Ghosts in Your Head, Ghosts in My Head The Flash, Pacific Rim AU, Cisco & Harry, Cisco and Eobard, 33.9k, Sep-Nov 2022

"We can vanquish the impossible if we can learn to trust again. - Guillermo Del Toro they're so drift compatible it's!?!? i'm JUST i might be Compelled to write this - me, June 20th, 2021 --- Harrison Wells has no intention of ever entering a Shatterdome again, determined to leave the ghost of the tragic loss of his co-pilot and wife from his last time piloting a jaeger firmly in the past, to focus on raising Jesse. Cisco Ramon is a jaeger engineer, not a pilot, focused on retrofitting a badly damaged Gen 3 jaeger, keeping the ghost of his one and only drift, and the truth of the tragic accident in his Shatterdome, close to his chest - and hidden behind his goggles. But some things don’t stay buried - or in the basement - forever. And to cancel the apocalypse, they may both have to face their own ghosts..."

This was published between September and November of 2022, so you can tell from the quote in the summary (from talking with my canoe buddy @philcoulsonismyhero, who helped turn this from rambling into a fic and was a fantastic first reader) it was a while in development. This was my 100th fic on Ao3 and I really wanted it to be that milestone because I love it, I love the concept, and I feel like I really captured a huge chunk of what keeps me coming back to writing about the Flash, and specifically Cisco and Harry and Wellsobard/Eobard. I think I managed to make it something that's readable if you don't know the Flash while something that has a lot of interesting adaptations and twists from the Flash if you do know the source material. I also had a fun time tweaking and playing with the world of Pacific Rim to fit the narrative. And also just. Cisco and Harry are so drift compatible, y'all. They just. Are.

Blank Slate, Artificial Boxes Murderbot Diaries, Aggressively Arospec Week 2021, 2.2k, Jun 2021

"“I’m probably the one who has the best chance of getting it, anyway.” I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “Because you're augmented?” The difference between an augmented human and a murderbot is like … the difference between a chihuahua and a cyborg wolf-construct with cloned organic components. Or something. “Because I’m aromantic.” That… shouldn’t have been surprising, actually. And it was something we had in common, as much as I was loath to admit having something in common with Gurathin. And - well, it did have something to do with this. “That has nothing to do with this,” I said."

It was *really* hard to pick a fic for this slot - two days ago I might have gone with More Than This, an older aro-centric fic about Obi-Wan Kenobi that I also love very very much and definitely gets an honorable mention. But something that stands out about this fic is that I was trying to hit a very distinctive writing and character/narrator voice, and I think I really did.

conquest of spaces Pacific Rim, Post-Uprising Fix It, 27.1k, Apr-May 2018

"It takes a Shatterdome to save two people the Precursors have tried to destroy, and to help them put the pieces back together in the aftermath. A story about liquor and ice cream, donuts and decaf coffee, kaiju-blood rocket boots, and, in Pacific Rim tradition, the power of science and people too stubborn to give up on each other."

I have fanart for this fic from my dearest alex (who I also spent extensive time discussing this fic and drift and precursor hivemind mechanics with) over my desk, it's not a hard call to put it in the top 5 :D (Honorable mention to Hold, a fic from Cass's run as Batgirl that I have art over my desk for) This fic is tagged The power of friendship and THE POWER OF SCIENCE, it is very Me. :D This also introduces Kay and the neuroscience team, a collection of OC's who you'll see many other places in my fics :D

What You Can't Run From The Flash & Supergirl, Cisco Ramon & J'onn J'onzz + Eobard Thawne, 7.4k, November 2016

Or: Martian Manhunter vs the Reverse Flash When Cisco is kidnapped by the Reverse Flash and ends up sending them both to Supergirl's Earth, it's up to J'onn J'onzz to kick some ass and do some rescuing. But that might require going further into Eobard Thawne's head than he ever wanted to go, and dredging up some of his own memories...

I periodically go back and reread this fic and yall. It slaps, as I believe the kids say. It's an early crystallization of my love of weird mindscape & unreality tropes. It hits on a lot of feelings about Cisco and Eobard that I would end up going back to over and over (and continue to) in many different angles and variations. It has confrontation and foils between DCTV's two 'glowing red eyes mentors who are not who they seem'. It has J'onn and Cisco bonding. What more could I ask for from past me.

[bella-studyblr]

Task Management:

Creating + Maintaining a Schoolwork Schedule

Key elements

Your schedule suits your individual time/task management preferences.

It is flexible enough to accommodate sudden changes, plus fluctuating energy levels, states of concentration, symptoms and moods.

Daily tasks are not over-whelming; they are small enough that they are achievable.

You do not get “burned out.”

It allows you to be consistent.

Steps to create your schedule

Decide if you want your planner to be paper or digital

Find an “order” that’s logical and achievable for you (more on this later)

Refer to your addendum/syllabus and write down all the assignments, tests and other events taking place that week/month (and their due-dates).

Then break these down, assigning tasks to each day of the week (more on this later).

Break down your tasks even further (more on this later).

Decide if you want to follow a simple daily to-do list or a timed schedule (more on this later).

Find your “order(s)”

Mandatory: Schedule assignments around other commitments (work, social, hobbies, etc.).

Do the hardest task first to get it out of the way (so that the rest of your tasks are less daunting, and because your smaller tasks require less energy therefore can be done even after completing the hard task).

Do the easiest task first to build momentum (give yourself a feeling of accomplishment which will motivate you to continue, and boost your self-confidence early in the day to establish a positive mindset for the rest of the day).

Do the task that’s due first to minimize deadline stress, and so your assignments don’t fall through the cracks (causing you to get discouraged and lose momentum).

Plan according to your energy level throughout the day and week: Do you have Pilates once a week? Maybe you can reserve that day for easier assignments. If you know you’re going to be tired for whatever reason, account for that in your planning.

Consider your state of concentration: If you know you’re too groggy or spaced out for the first hour of your day, you can either schedule easy tasks in that time, or none at all. If you take a medication in the afternoon/evening that makes you tired, schedule easier tasks or none, and get harder tasks done earlier/later in the day. If you have ADHD and crowded places mess with your concentration, but you like studying at a café, go when it’s not busy.

Be mindful of your emotions and symptoms: If you have depression, or are prone to depressive episodes, you’ll need to consider that when scheduling. You might have to rework your entire schedule when you get into a depressive episode (like adding lots of breaks). If suddenly you’re going through a big life event (like a breakup), you need to account for that when scheduling. For instance, if you can’t stand to be alone, maybe you can go out instead of staying in, and if your motivation is low, you may need to up your reward-system or break down your tasks even more.

Break down this week/month’s tasks

Refer to your addendum/syllabus and write down all your due dates for the time period you’re scheduling for.

Based on due dates, outside commitments, predictions of energy/mood/symptoms, assign assignments to the days of the week/month that make most sense for you.

Break down daily tasks into sub-tasks

You can do this (in advance) for your full week/month’s assignments, or do it every morning/evening.

Generally, your assignments will follow a variation of this formula: brainstorm, create an outline, research, write rough draft, edit and revise. Test/exam prep will look something like: check to see what the test is based on, pinpoint important sections, review to see how well you know the material, create a list of items to study, rewrite select notes, make flash cards, study topic 1, study topic 2, etc.

What are the individual components of these steps? Here are some examples. Brainstorm: what should my topic be, what should my thesis be, what points can support my thesis, what do I need to research, what questions do I need to ask my prof? Outline: topic, thesis, points, conclusion. Research: write down all the important parts from each source (separately), then sift through to sort into Supporting Point 1, Supporting Point 2, etc. Rough draft: opening statement(s), intro, point 1, point 2, etc., conclusion, closing statement(s). Edit/revise: read and check for grammar only, then read again and check for spelling only, read again and check for cohesiveness only, etc. Topic 1: Part A, Part B, etc.

Each of these small components can be individual items on your to-do list. Big tasks like, “write essay” are too big for most people. Even “write rough draft” is daunting. If you start with something specific and small like brainstorming, and work your way up, it’s a lot easier to approach. Plus, being able to check off tasks more often and more easily will boost your confidence and your sense of competence, thus building momentum.

Here is a sample to-do list: Research X for Point 1 of Literary Essay, create outline for History Essay, Edit/Revise Assignment 1, study Topic 1 and Topic 2 for Test 1.

To-do list or time-based schedule?

To do list: Write down all your assignments for the day. Put them in the order you want to do them, or go through them intuitively (based on what you feel like doing, or what’s most practical at the time/place you’re at).

Timed-based: Write down all your assignments, then write down the time you’re going to do each of them. You could set reminders or alarms if you want, or simply refer to the list. There’s an awesome app I recommend if this is your thing. It’s called Structured (iOS only).

Curate your study environment for maximum focus

Eliminate distractions such as uncomfortable clothing, sounds (or silence), phone and computer notifications, clutter in the room and on your desk, people who may try to talk to you (shut your door and/or inform them that you’re busy).

Designate a space to doing homework only and avoid spaces that you associate with other things (do not study in bed, as you will want to relax or sleep, and/or you will mess with your sleep by weakening the bed’s association with sleep).

Build associations: Incorporate other events and items into your study/homework routine that you only use while doing that, so that you associate those things with studying/homework (examples: specific playlists, pencils/pens, cups/bottles, scents, rituals, decor, etc.).

Ensure good lighting (preferably including daylight).

Get dressed in clothes that make you feel good about yourself. They don’t have to be “professional” and they should definitely be comfortable. Do not stay in your pyjamas. Believe me, I know this can be hard, and I love PJ’s. But they are not good for productivity.

Don’t “multi-task.” It may feel like you’re getting more done this way, but by splitting your focus, not only do tasks take longer, they also diminish in quality. Commit to the task you’re doing.

Meditate: You can even meditate for just 1-5 mins right before studying, homework and/or classes.

Practice self care (daily!)

Sleep (enough, well, and regularly).

Daylight: Get outside, work by windows, use a light therapy box. These can help regulate your sleep, improve and maintain mental health, and boost energy.

Fresh air: Getting outside even for a couple minutes can help you refresh and reset, and feel good about yourself and your life. Fresh oxygen can help you wake up and is great for your health. Even just opening your window can do a lot for your mood, energy and motivation.

Movement: Try to move at least once per day. The benefits of exercise are numerous and immense.

Healthy and consistent eating: Avoid spikes in insulin levels by eating regularly so you don’t have extreme dips in your energy level. Also, brain power uses calories too, so make sure you’re eating consistently, and try to eat healthy. There are so many other reasons eating consistently is good for your health (and by extension, your productivity).

Relaxation and leisure: Make time for fun and socializing, as well as intentional relaxation. Hobbies, movies/tv, time with friends/family, meditation, baths, progressive muscle relaxation, etc.

Therapy: Your therapy sessions are not daily, but you can do 5 minutes of inner-work per day based on what you and your therapist are currently working on. Working with a therapist is a great way to stay on track with your goals, and develop the skills and positive mindset required for success in school.

Reward yourself

Track progress: Reflect on all the assignments you’ve completed and your grades to remind yourself that you’re capable!

Completing to-do lists daily maintains a sense of accomplishment which keeps your momentum going. Check those items off! Or give yourself gold stars! ⭐️

Treat yourself with non-food rewards: Tie completed school work with fun tasks like video games, or take yourself out for coffee, or some other small (non-food) outing. What I’m trying to do right now is not do my leisure activities until my daily tasks are done.

Develop a positive mindset

Take promises you make to yourself seriously. The more you break promises to yourself, the easier it will get to continue breaking promises. You will lose respect for yourself which lowers motivation, and you will lose trust in yourself which can become debilitating as well. The more you keep promises, the easier it will get, the more motivated you’ll become, and the more you’ll trust and respect yourself. Your confidence will improve, and you’ll feel better about yourself. Productivity is choosing yourself. Discipline is choosing what’s best for you instead of what you feel like doing in the moment. Discipline is a muscle, and like any muscle, it can be strengthened, and it can atrophy.

Remember your “why.” What is the end goal of being in school? What’s your career path, and why did you choose it? What will your life be like when you have that career? What would your life be like if you gave up and didn’t make it to your goal? Aiming for your dream while running from your nightmare is a great strategy for maintaining motivation. Lighting a fire under your *** can be a huge motivator.

Remember how good you feel when you get schoolwork done, and let this motivate you to stay consistent. You can also remember how you feel when you don’t get work done, but definitely focus more on the positive!

Go to therapy and/or hire a coach. There are SO many benefits to therapy and I’d honestly need a whole other post to get into it. You don’t need to be depressed or mentally ill at all in order to benefit from talking to a therapist. They can even help you with time management, procrastination, motivation and more! If you can afford it, please do it. It’s such a worthwhile investment.

Be consistent

No “zero days.” Do at least a bit of homework or studying every day so you don’t slip into vacation mode. Make schoolwork a daily part of your life, so it just becomes the norm.

Build productivity momentum (track progress, check items off your to-do list daily, treat yourself, keep promises to yourself, remember your “why,” remember how success feels).

Stay on top of projects. Your assignments are made up of smaller tasks you assign yourself across time. “Success is the sum of small efforts repeated day in and day out.” - Robert Collier

Avoid burnout (more on this later).

Keep it interesting (more on this later).

Avoid burnout

Self-care: shower and/or bathe regularly, maintain proper sleep habits, stay hydrated, take care of your skin, do relaxation activities like meditation and reading, do fun activities, pamper yourself every now and then with face masks or foot baths, take your meds as prescribed, eat well and regularly, get outside often, move daily, etc.

Break up study/homework sessions into small, manageable chunks of time, with constructive (refreshing) breaks in between.

Break assignments down into even smaller tasks so that you aren’t over-working yourself during the course of a day, and so that you don’t overwhelm yourself (the stress can lead to burnout).

School-life balance: Keep up with your social life as best as you can, make time for your hobbies, maintain self-care, say no to things that don’t serve you, etc. Try to follow through with scheduled schoolwork 100% of the time, but know that you won’t. Sometimes you’ll need to prioritize mental health over schoolwork (be careful though, this is a very fine line, and a slippery slope). Sometimes things will come up and it’ll be out of your control. But more than anything else, there will be times when you just decide to prioritize something else like fun and socializing over schoolwork. This is why your schedule needs to be flexible: to accommodate sudden invites to hang out and random decisions to skip a homework/study session, but more importantly, flexibility will reduce the odds that you’ll skip in the first place. If your schedule includes hobbies and socializing, and anything else that’s important to you, then you won’t feel deprived. If you have school-life balance, you’ll have more of yourself to devote to schoolwork when it’s time to.

Keep it interesting

Romanticize your life by putting effort into making all of your daily tasks a special occasion.

Make meals and drinks special by using your favourite dinnerware and cutlery. Perhaps even incorporate extra elements such as: a beautiful tablecloth, napkins, candles and/or dim lighting, music, wearing your favourite clothing, etc.

Pretend you’re the main character in a movie about a successful, productive student (because you are the main character in your life).

Make games out of studying if this is something that interests you (the Forest app comes to mind).

Use lots of colours in your notes and buy colourful stationary! 🌈

Vary your approach/methods if needed to avoid boredom.

Study with friends (online or in person).

Reward yourself often.

Remember your “why.”

[samwisethewitch]

Magical Journaling

When we think of a witch’s tools, we usually think of cauldrons, brooms, and jars filled with herbs. But for modern witches, one of the most powerful tools available is a blank journal. The journal can be an altar, a workspace, a diary, and a grimoire all in one.

Creating a Magical Journaling Practice

One of the benefits of this type of magic is that it doesn’t require a lot of tools and materials. However, there are a few things you may choose to include:

A journal, notebook, or binder. Having a physical journal for your magical practice can help to ground your magic into the physical world. Find a journal or notebook that speaks to you — this could be a composition book from the dollar store, or an elaborate leather bound journal. I highly recommend using a physical book, but if you are unable to keep a physical journal dedicated to your witchcraft, you can absolutely keep one in a Google Doc, a Microsoft Word document, or the Notes app on your phone.

Colored pens, pencils, or markers. These are a great way to include the magic of color in your journal. (See this post for info on magical color correspondences.) Writing your spells in a color that matches your intention can add an extra layer of power.

Stickers, photos, and drawings. This adds a visual component to your written spells. Just like you add things to a physical ritual based on their magical correspondences, you can use images of those things to add energy to journal spells.

A Daily Intention-Setting Ritual

This method of magical journaling is based on an exercise from Lisa Marie Basile’s book, The Magical Writing Grimoire.

In the morning, before you start your day, write your intention for the day ahead. This should be written in the present tense, and phrased in the positive — it’s about what you are doing, not what you’re stopping or trying to quit. Your intention can be anything, mental, emotional, or physical. (For example: “I am opening myself to love in all its many forms.”)

In the evening, before you go to bed, write down what you worked on that day. This can be anything you did that you feel nourished you, and it may or may not be related to your intention from the morning. (For example: “I used mindfulness meditation to become aware of my own vastness.”)

Living with intention makes you more aware of your actions and can be a form of magic in itself. You daily intentions can become positive affirmations that you can repeat throughout your day, drawing strength from the words.

Using a Journal to Cast Spells

You can cast spells on the page of your journal, with nothing more than a pen and paper.

There are four basic parts to every spell: your will, your intention, focused energy, and a ritual action. All of these components can be brought into a journaling session. Your will is your personal magical and spiritual authority — you use your will simply by being aware of it. Your intention is a clear statement of what you want to get out of your spell — in journal magic, this is typically written on the page. By directing your attention to what you are writing, you are focusing your energy. And finally, a ritual action is any act performed in a ritualistic manner — in this case, that act is writing.

When casting a journal spell, it’s best to do your work in a quiet space where you won’t be disturbed. You might choose to light a candle or burn incense to help set a spiritual/magical mood, or you might not. I recommend meditating on your intention for a few moments before you begin, in order to help focus your energy.

What you actually write is up to you. It could be a simple, straightforward statement of intention, a detailed description of what you want, or even a poem. Feel free to experiment with different methods to see what feels right for you.

Journaling with Sigils and Runes

You can incorporate sigils, runes, and other sacred symbols into your journal, or use them as spells by themselves.

I’ve talked a little bit about runes in a previous post, but here’s a quick refresher: “runes” typically refer to the symbols used in Germanic alphabets before they were replaced by the Latin alphabet. The oldest Germanic rune system, and the one most widely used in magic, is the Elder Futhark. Other Germanic runic alphabets include the Younger Futhark and the Anglo-Saxon runes, which are both descended from the Elder Futhark. There are other alphabets that are used for similar purposes in magic, like the Irish Ogham. The use of these symbols in magic comes from the ancient idea that writing is inherently magical. Both the Germanic runes and the Ogham alphabet were believed to be sacred by the people who originally used them. Because of this, the runes aren’t merely letters — each symbol has a set of spiritual meanings associated with it as well.

The nice thing about runes is that, for the most part, we have a good idea of what they meant — so learning the runes can be as simple as purchasing a book and memorizing meanings. They’re also tied to ancient belief systems, which makes them a potent source of magical power.

You can use the runes in your magical journal in a couple of different ways. You can draw the appropriate runes in the borders around your spell, or write them over your spell in a different colored ink to add their power to your words. You can also use the runes alone as a form of magic. For this, speak or chant the name of the rune as you write it, and then spend a few moment focusing on it, visualizing your goal, and charging the rune with your intent.

Sigils are a little bit different. Unlike runes, sigils are created on the spot, so the meaning of a sigil is usually only known to the person who designed it. This means that, rather than learning established meanings, you’re creating a new magical symbol with a unique meaning every time you draw a new sigil. Because of this, sigils are directly linked to your will, which makes them powerful conductors of magic.

Here’s a common method for designing a sigil: Write a word or phrase that represents your goal or desire. Cross out all the vowels and/or all repeating letters. Now, use the remaining letters (the ones that haven’t been marked out) to create a design, adding artistic flourishes as you see fit. It’s okay to get creative with this, and it’s okay if the shape of the letters isn’t obvious in the final sigil. For example: if I wanted to create a sigil to manifest wealth, I might start with the phrase “I have more money than I know what to do with.” I then cross out all vowels and repeating letters, leaving me with, “v r y k w d.” Using the shape of these letters as a starting point, I create an artistic design that carries the intention of the original statement.

Sigils are usually used on their own to conduct magic. Draw the sigil in a color that matches your intention (for my wealth sigil, I would use green). As you draw, focus on your intent and feel your energy moving through the pen, charging the sigil. You can leave the finished sigil in your journal, tear the page out and place it on your altar, or display it somewhere you’ll see it often.

Sigils are especially useful for witches who need to keep their practice a secret, because they can be disguised as simple doodles.

Resources:

The Magical Writing Grimoire by Lisa Marie Basile

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith

Runes by Kylie Holmes

[johnconstantinesdick]

Okay *cracks knuckles, accidentally dislocates fingers* @agentscamander-romanoff and @steel-phoenix took the bait and enabled me by asking me to elaborate on my Children of the Watch origins theory. Which means I am about to go ABSOLUTELY feral.

Apologies to anyone for having incorrect Star Wars lore, I’ve barely consumed canon content and I don’t intend to start now. Also sorry if anyone has already said this! I’ve never seen this particular theory/interpretation and it’s made me go a bit insane.

Warnings: discussion of child abuse, cults, and the aftermath of genocide. I don’t go super in depth on any of it but it’s there. Also, I typed this in the notes app of my phone and autocorrect hasn’t quite submitted to some of these names.

SO. I’m going to break this up into sections. 1. Exploring canon 2. Extrapolations/Connecting the red string 3. What does this MEAN??? 4. Complaining about Bo-Katan.

First off, though, here’s my thesis: Children of the Watch is a “splinter group” made up of the children that Death Watch stole, indoctrinated, and abused. They’re also not a cult (Death Watch is though lmao).

1. Exploring Canon:

Okay, so. Canonically, Death Watch has abducted, tortured, and brainwashed children. Arla Fett is an example of that, having been abducted at the age of 14 after her parents were killed and she was subsequently brainwashed into becoming an assassin for Death Watch. She didn’t even hesitate when she found out her brother was alive! That’s how strong the conditioning was! She was so fucked up from it that she spent YEARS in a mental facility, and she outright begged a Jedi to wipe her memories in exchange for a favor. DEATH WATCH DID THAT. And you CANNOT tell me she was the only one they’ve done this to. PLENTY of fic writers have extrapolated off of this and mentioned it, but it’s important to me that everyone know this shit is absolutely rooted in canon.

Another Death Watch Child Abuse Fun Fact: Dred Priest and Isabet Reau, two of the trainers of the clones, canonically had Death Watch leanings and tried to instill Death Watch beliefs in the clones by FORCING THEM TO FIGHT EACH OTHER IN SECRET BATTLE CIRCLES THAT ENDED UP KILLING SOME OF THE CLONES. THEY WERE CHILDREN AT THE TIME, IF IT WASN’T CLEAR. WHAT THE FUCK. If THAT’S not an example of Death Watch abusing the kids under their care then I don’t know what is. It’s suuper not a stretch for me to think that this wasn’t an unheard of thing in more official Death Watch circles.

Also canonically, Bo-Katan has referred to Din’s covert as “Children of the Watch”, and Din, despite obviously being an important and respected member of his community, doesn’t recognize the name, which implies to me that it’s not a name the covert chose for themselves. Rather, a moniker that was given to them after they splintered off of Death Watch. Since this isn’t an opinion and it’s more just… information, I’ll trust Bo-Katan on this one.

We also know for sure that Din’s covert IS connected to Death Watch in some way, seeing as the flashback sequence very clearly shows Mandalorians in blue and gray beskar’gam, the colors of Death Watch. HOWEVER… the Armorer, who seems to hold a high position of authority in the covert, wears gold and copper beskar’gam. Din wears unpainted (v2) or mismatched colored (v1) beskar’gam (I do grant that his paint color counts less towards this because he’s pretty much one of the only people interacting with the outside world and so colors associated with Death Watch are probably a no go no matter what). Paz Vizsla’s armor is a very dark blue with yellow and cyan details and, oh my fucking god I didn’t even know this but he has a fucking MYTHOSAUR SYMBOL ON ONE OF HIS PAULDRONS. THE FUCK???? THAT’S LITERALLY THE SYMBOL OF THE TRUE MANDALORIANS IM. Ok. Okay. I needed a minute. Like I KNOW that the mythosaur skull is Mandalorian symbol in general but I think it just hits different when a Vizsla is wearing it, you know? Especially because the placement is the same as Jaster Mereel’s???? Literal founder of the True Mandalorian movement????? Excuse me???????

Let’s uh. Let’s get back to armor. I can address that… later. So. Anyway. Armor is super important, and it’s uhhh very telling that the covert doesn’t emulate the Death Watch colorscheme strictly. Like, yeah, there’s gray and light blue in there, if you go through some wiki pages, but they’re not the only colors they use, and the Armorer doesn’t even have either of those colors! And she’s the biggest authority we’ve seen! Very fucking interesting!! Bo-Katan still has her armor painted in Death Watch colors! And yet she’s derisive of Din’s covert! Verrry interesting!

We also know that Din’s covert emphasizes children VERY much, more than Death Watch ever would have, imo. It’s expected for the adult members to provide for the foundlings (and it’s VERY interesting that the kids are seemingly all referred to as foundlings iirc. More on that later.), and even though Paz disagrees with Din working with the empire, he and the other members of the covert immediately and with no hesitation come to Din’s aid for this child that Din hasn’t even claimed as his own—it’s amazing! And I will note that Bo-Katan and her warriors do the same upon their initial meeting with Din—Koska dives into danger with no hesitation as soon as Din says the child is still in danger. We see that this solidarity does come at a price for Bo-Katan, though, while the Armorer sees protecting a foundling as a duty that is completely worth all the trouble it brought.

Fascinating also that Boba was 100% on board to help out Din to save Grogu past what Din or anyone else would have expected of him, while Bo-Katan had to be bribed into coming by the promise of Moff Gideon and the darksaber. And she thinks she’s somehow more Mandalorian than him.

And NOW, going way back in time to the beginnings of the True Mandalorian movement, we know that Jaster Mereel originally authored his Supercommando Codex by looking back through history to the Canons of Honor and the Resol’nare, and he took those ideals and ideas and he modernized them to create a set of moral guidelines to follow. And people loved that shit! Death Watch had to infiltrate the True Mandalorians and then trick the Jedi into slaughtering them just to get rid of them, because Jaster’s charisma and his sexy sexy morals were too strong. (God. I fucking LOVE Jaster Mereel if you couldn’t tell.) Anyway, there’s precedent for Mandalorians looking back to their history to bring forth old ideas, repurposed to a modern context. We also know that, canonically, Din’s covert follow the “old ways” of not sharing names and of never taking their helmets off in front of others.

Moving on.

2. Extrapolations/Connecting the red string:

So if we extrapolate from the fact that Death Watch are, uh, super fucking abusive towards the kids that they stole/their own kids, then we’re left with… this group of kids, who have been mistreated and indoctrinated for a LONG TIME, and possibly don’t have that great an understanding of non-toxic Mandalorian culture. And if they’ve been abducted or rescued, whatever, they might not fit back in with the places they were taken from, or they may not have a place to go back to, or they may not even remember where they’re from originally. It’s some prime angst material! Good stuff.

And if we pull the implication from the names that “Children of the Watch” is a splinter group off of Death Watch, it really does make you think… huh, you know what? These two things may be one in the same. Maybe.

And, like, we know that Jaster Mereel and Din’s covert both looked to Mandalorian history to find pillars for their community’s morals. Jaster did so in the middle of a lot of political turmoil, as a way to say “Hey, we can still be Mandalorians in the ways that matter, but being Mandalorian doesn’t mean being a morally bankrupt conqueror. We can have honor and still wear armor and fight and uphold the Resol’nare.”

And I think Din’s covert did so when they were struggling with unlearning the toxic ideals that had been shoved onto them by Death Watch. I think they had to figure out their own way of being Mandalorian or else they would have crumpled under the pressure. And so they looked back to the old ways and picked out the more extreme interpretation of Cin Vhetin (clean slate) which says that, once you swear the Resol’nare and become a Mandalorian, your past doesn’t matter, it’s what you do now that does. You don’t take off your helmet, and you don’t let others know your name, because those things don’t matter to who you are and what you do. (There’s also the issue of the helmet and name rule being an important defense tactic to protect the covert, seeing as how Mandalorians post-Empire are the survivors of genocide. There’s already a fantastic post on it here)

Related, another Mandalorian saying is “Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la.”, meaning “Nobody cares who your parent was, only the parent you’ll be,” which IMO fits in very nicely with how I’m interpreting Din’s covert. It’s all about your actions and future mattering more than your past. I think that when the covert was splitting off and being built, this would be a huge component of them healing. Because the way they were treated and indoctrinated by Death Watch doesn’t have to affect their future actions. They don’t have to perpetuate the cycle of abuse, they can build a covert and a community around caring for foundlings.

Now, onto the foundlings! I find it very interesting that, whenever the covert’s younglings are mentioned, it’s always as foundlings. I think this implies that there’s a focus on saving and raising children more than there is on sharing blood with them, and I think that the covert would be more inclined towards communal raising than typical family units, if only to keep everyone in check and to protect the children from ever being treated as they were. I also find it VERY interesting that there’s a lot of emphasis put on returning children to their own kind. I don’t think Death Watch would have employed that practice, and I think that’s another example of the covert wanting to make their community a better place for children. I think it’s likely a lot of them didn’t get that choice, and they had to leave their cultures and people behind. And so they want to give that choice to their children.

I think it’s also amazing that, like. They keep finding and raising children instead of deciding they’re too damaged or whatever to have kids. Because it doesn’t matter if they have baggage or trauma when a child needs them. That’s FANTASTIC. I’m losing my MIND. It really doesn’t matter who their parents were to them, just the kind of parents they will be. It’s all about breaking that cycle and deciding to be better and I LOVE THAT.

3. What does this MEAN???:

Well. What this means is that Din’s covert has a very clear set of motivations and structure when it comes to how their covert is run. It’s not a cult; in fact it is specifically a group created by cult survivors who are determined to not do to others what was done to them. The rules may seem weird and strict at first glance, but they have a clear purpose and rationale, and no one is trying to amass power. They’re just… trying to do better, and be better.

(This also means that I’m 99% sure that, with the assistance of time travel, at least half of the covert would be SUPER INTO Jaster Mereel. I like to imagine that Paz had, like, a poster of him on his little sewer bedroom wall. I fully believe he painted that mythosaur skull on his pauldron in honor of a good man who was killed by Paz’s own relatives for standing by his morals and daring to try to reform and rally Mandalorians. I also think it would be funny if, like, Din doesn’t know shit about ANYTHING to do with modern history, but Boba mentions that his grandfather is Jaster Mereel and Din is like “OH I KNOW THAT GUY! Yeah he’s cool, he’s the historical crush of like, my entire covert.” And Boba is like. What.)

It also means that it can be up in the air about whether Din was found by Death Watch before his covert splintered off, or if his covert was still just wearing Death Watch colors when he was found. Fun thing to play around with, but right now I don’t want a solid timeline.

Hmm just thought I should add: while the Armorer does seem to have a position of authority, I don’t think the covert can be structured politically with clans and houses like other Mandalorian groups. Like, clan just means family in this context, and is less a part of hierarchy, and I don’t think they would even recognize houses within the covert? Like they MIGHT decide to call themselves part of House Djarin now that Din is Mand’alor, but before that they weren’t like. House Vizsla with Paz as the leader just because they used to be Death Watch. I don’t vibe with that. This isn’t really super relevant, I just wanted to add it.

4. Complaining about Bo-Katan:

Anyway Bo-Katan is absolutely full of shit and it’s doubly disgusting that she’s standing there in Death Watch armor, seemingly still allied to this fucking cult of imperialism and conquest, and she accuses Din of being in a regressive cult, and she implies that the way he engages with the Resol’nare is wrong and like. Repressed or something. God I hate Bo-Katan. But I love to hate her. She’s horrible but I want her to be included in the list of Din’s friends but not the list of people he’d trust his kid with. I have contradictory Bo-Katan feelings, whatever. The most important thing is that all of her opinions are horrible, like, all the time. And we shouldn’t trust her when she says Din’s part of a cult. Literally why does anyone take that at face value. If we’re taking her word as the authority on Mandalorian issues then I guess Boba and Jango aren’t Mandalorian!!! Seriously.

TLDR; Din’s covert (aka “Children of the Watch”) is made up of survivors of childhood abuse, torture, and brainwashing at the hands of Death Watch, and they’re dedicated to making sure their children don’t go through the same thing. They’re not a cult, but Death Watch sure was! Jaster Mereel is the love of my very aromantic life and Bo-Katan’s opinions can’t be trusted. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[lacependragon]

 @sparkvoid “Lace drop your favourite mods list.”

Okay. Keep in mind these are all for FORGE on 1.16.5. Let’s go.

Powah! A really fun power generation mod that is easy on the game and based on tiered technology. There’s no penalty for forgetting something, as even reactors just shut down if you forget a coolant. The colours are gorgeous, the ideas are fun, and the cable system is A-Tier.

Mining Gadgets. A really fun laser mining mod that lets you create one of three tiers of mining laser. It is charged with RF/FE, and you can add upgrades onto it to give it fortune, magnets, etc. I love this thing so much.

Mekanism. Easily the most complex tech mod in 1.16.5. Mekanism let’s you mine JUST ores, separate liquids into their component parts, create gases, and even quintuple your ores in processing. It has so many little parts that setting up a factory is just a whole lot of nonsense but in a REALLY good way.

Sophisticated Backpacks. My favourite backpack mod. You start with a low tier backpack and upgrade it all the way to Netherite. It even has upgrades that let it void items, magnet items, and auto collect into its inventory rather than your basic inventory. It also has a keybind to let you open it without taking it off.

Curios. The successor to Baubles, Curios let’s you equip non-armored items into specialized slots, like necklace, back, etc. It lets you carry more trinkets around, usually from other mods, and the backpack from the above mod can go into the back slot and you can SEE IT.

Double Slabs. This might be the best thing in Minecraft. You can stack different slabs together. No more shall you suffer with decisions! Not only that, it also allows for vertical slabs and you can orient them in anyway you want either on the edge or CENTRE of a block. And the lighting! Works! No weird shadows! I could scream.

The entire Macaw collection. Macaw makes amazing decorative mods - doors, gates, fences, furniture, windows, roofs, trapdoors, and more. They’re all gorgeous, they all go into the game beautifully, and they all have fantastic logic. The windows OPEN and you can GO THROUGH THEM. It’s brilliant. Just brilliant.

Easy Hammers. Plenty of mods have their own hammers, but I like to be thorough. Hammers break a 3x3 space, with the block you focus on being the centre. They’re made with 5 of the same material and two sticks and they are fast, gorgeous, and have a TON of durability. Hammers. For making mining more fun.

EmendatusEnigmatica. Okay, so hear me out. This mod was made for Engimatica 6, a modpack, but it allows you to manipulate your ore gen, both modded and vanilla in a way you can’t with other mods. Turn off the ore gen in all your other mods (provided EE has the ore), then open the config on this and go wild. I have iron almost doubled in my configs from the default because modded takes so much.

Cooking for Blockheads. Build a functional kitchen in Minecraft. Oven, fridge, etc., and you can use the counter to see everything you can currently make. The sink is an infinie water source and probably the most infamous item in here because it attaches to pipes from all mods and takes up one block.

Ocean Floor. Hey you know how finding sand/gravel/clay is a pain in the ass and modded needs all three for some reason? This changes all oceans to have these three as its primary floor. Some dirt, too, but lord is this so good and useful.

Pam’s HarvestCraft 2. All parts. One of the best food mods out there. It’s got so many CROPS and so many TREES and it’s got a MARKET BLOCK and it’s just so much fun. I love making all the different foods just because I can. And having such a diverse farm just feels right, you know?

Silent’s Gems. Gemstones! They make weapons. They make pretty blocks. They add MORE ORES to your world. What else could you want? Pretty!

Peaceful Surface. So, I am a coward. The mobs in Minecraft upset me deeply but I cannot play on Peaceful because I need the DROPS. So, this mod helps with that. It makes it so monsters can only spawn at Light Level 0. This makes the surface WAY more peaceful and also makes caves with lava in them easier to handle. It’s much less scary.

Biomes O Plenty. The OG biome mod is still my favourite, by far. I love the autumn forest biome and I hunt one down in every world I make. It’s so gorgeous. I love all the different biomes and how different they are, while still working in the scope of Minecraft.

EnderStorage mixed with some kind of chunk loader let’s you drain the nether of its lava. What more do you need? Basically, it creates a more sophisticated version of the Ender Chest and a Tank, which have three colour bars. Set the chest/tank to a string of three colours, with Minecraft dyes, and it’ll link to every chest/tank (must be same) with the same colours. Even across dimensions!

Refined Storage. Y’all sick of CHESTS? This makes your storage DIGITAL. ENTER THE NEW AGE. It’s so much simpler than Applied Energistics and I love it so much more. It’s fun, it’s easy, and it’s highly expandable and has lots of good add-ons.

Item Zoom. When you hover over an item in your inventory screen, or any screen that is a menu, it shows a bigger version on the left hand side of the screen. No longer do I struggle with textures.

There are the ones I adore the most, but I’m sure that’ll change as I get deeper into playing again. It’s been a while. Thank you for asking!

[potassium-pilot]

Bonus Prompt, Yeehaw!

Prompt 31: Suspicion

“Wait!” Haurchefant called out and ran for Dia as she and Alphinaud began their return to Revenant’s Toll, eager to report the day’s events to Minfilia, and figure out strategy surrounding the possibility of Iceheart summoning a primal.

“Is something wrong, Haurchefant?” Dia asked concernedly.

“Nay, merely…might I convince you to stay in Camp Dragonhead for a while?”

She raised her eyebrows at the proposition. “What for? Did something else happen?”

“Thankfully, no. Rather, I…I had hoped I might, er, interest you in dinner.”

“Dinner?” she repeated in disbelief.

“Indeed. The culinarians would most likely start preparations in but a moment, and we always have leftovers. What say you?”

“Well, that sounds lovely”, piped in Alphinaud, “But I’m afraid the Antecedent would need word on the happenings of the heretics sooner rather than later.”

“I see”, Haurchefant hung his head. His intention was not to invite both Alphinaud and Dia, but the two seemed to be a package deal.

“But…she need not have both of us reporting to her. If you’d like, Dia, I can go on ahead while you stay behind.”

“Sounds good to me. I like the sound of someone treating me to free food, especially you, Haurchefant.”

His eyes lit up, and he enthusiastically replied, “Wonderful! Please, step inside. You will want for nothing.”

“We’ll see about that”, she teased as she stepped towards the camp entrance. She recently provided a feast for the Sultana and Chefsbane himself, Lolorito. Her expectations of Camp Dragonhead’s culinarians’ abilities were quite low, but she thoroughly enjoyed food as a concept. She’d happily eat whatever they made.

**********

“So…it’s hot yak’s milk, then?” Dia stared down her Ishgardian tea inquisitively.

“Nay, it’s tea.”

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the milk can’t possibly absorb the tea leaves as well as water. It’s about liquid properties.”

“Water doesn’t provide the same richness, the same warmth as yak’s milk in a tea. Not to mention, water highlights the bitter taste of the leaves more.”

“…that’s the point.”

He sighed and told her, “I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree on this point.”

“All right, I’ll drop it”, Dia conceded and merely sipped on it. When she requested tea, she didn’t expect yak’s milk at all, but she was never one to shy away from food. Despite her protestations as to the validity of the tea, it was still quite good, though as she predicted, the yak’s milk overpowered the tea leaves.

“Now, then, how are you feeling?” asked Haurchefant.

“Pretty good. The…tea…is lovely.”

“I’m glad you think so, but I meant in a broader sense.”

She hummed a curious tone.

“Dia, I’ve heard many a tale from many a source about your deeds. You took down four different gods-and you may very well be on your way to a fifth-, the Black Wolf himself, and an ancient Allagan weapon called Ultima that contained the power of three different primals. That you would sustain yourself after such feats beggars belief, and I simply want to ensure that you are, in fact, all right.”

She smiled. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m perfectly all right.”

“You’re sure? I want to do anything I can to aid you further, particularly if you are on your way to killing yet another primal for the sake of my countrymen.”

“Ah, there’s our misunderstanding. I’m not doing this for Ishgard.”

“Well, I figured as much. The Scions are an organization separated from the interests of the different nations. Regardless of your intentions, however, this still serves my fellow Ishgardians. Yet, I am curious why you would wish to take on this burden.”

Dia shrugged her shoulders. “Such is my fate. Hydaelyn chose me to be her Warrior for whatever reason, and it would be remiss of me not to act as such.”

Haurchefant sipped on his wine, then returned to the discussion. “Well, ‘tis noble of you to fight in her stead, but does being a Warrior of Light strip you of your free will?”

“What?”

“Surely, you must have had other goals, other dreams. Children don’t necessarily grow up thinking they’ll be god-slayers when they’re older.”

She sipped her tea as well. “I wanted adventure. I spent a lot of time cooped up in one small part of Gridania, and I wanted more. I’ll be damned if I didn’t get it.”

Haurchefant chuckled to himself. “Of course. To question the adventurous nature of an adventurer, how foolish of me.”

Dia chuckled lightly as well. “At any rate, I consider my reasons not too different from yours or Ser Aymeric’s. As you fight for Ishgard, I fight for Hydaelyn.”

Haurchefant closed his eyes and let out a small breath. “About that…”

“About what?”

“Dia, know that I say this out of concern for you and your wellbeing. You seemed rather…tense, to say the least, in both meetings with the Lord Commander.”

She wanted to kick herself. Was it that obvious?

“Was everything all right?”

“Pshh, of course it was, it’s allll good.”

“You are a terrible liar.”

She sighed loudly. “Look, I just- it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Dia, I promise you, if you tell me what the matter is, it shall be kept in the strictest of confidence. On my honor as a knight, I shall not break your trust.”

She stared down at the table. “You won’t report this to anyone? You’re not gonna run off to Ishgard and go wherever people go to talk to whoever’s in charge?”

“I swear to you, whatever you tell me will not leave this room.”

She hesitated for a few seconds.

“I don’t trust Ser Aymeric as far as I can throw him.”

Her confession took Haurchefant aback.

“See? I didn’t want you to tell him that.”

“I would never. But…might I know what cause he has given to earn your apprehension?”

She grunted in frustration, “He’s-he’s hiding something, and I can’t tell what, and that bothers me.”

“What could he possibly have to hide?” Haurchefant questioned in disbelief.

“I don’t know. It’s a gut feeling, I admit, but there’s more. When he came in, he told me outright that he was watching me. What did he say? With ‘an interest bordering on fascination?’”

“And what’s the problem with that?”

“You know who tells me that they’re watching my activities? Garleans.”

“They told you that?”

“Aye, they did. Livia, Nero, and Gaius himself, they all told me that they followed my activities. At any rate, your Lord Commander is keeping tabs on me, and I want to know why. What purpose does it serve Ishgard’s government to keep an eye on my movements?”

He took a moment to process her accusation. “I do not wish to make it seem as if I’m invalidating your feelings on the matter, but…might it be possible that he simply found your adventures intriguing? That mayhap it was a personal interest in your deeds?”

“But then why bring it up like that in an official setting? And why say it like that? ‘I’ve enjoyed hearing tales of your deeds’ is one thing, but ‘I’ve been watching your activities’? Quite another.”

“Perhaps the phrasing was more formal than you’re used to hearing from people who simply enjoy your tales.”

“Too formal, if you ask me.” She took another sip of her tea. “I hope you’re right, but at the moment, it seems like he’s following my moves, and there’s a reason, and I’m bothered by the fact that I don’t know his motives other than for the Holy See.”

“I see.”

“Why did he specifically request me there, anyways? Keeping an eye on the Keeper of the Lake seemed more of a request for the Crystal Braves than I. If they think I’m fighting that thing, they can think again.”

“The Scions and the Crystal Braves are near interchangeable in the eyes of many, considering how entangled the two organizations have become.”

“Maybe so, but it still could have just been Alphinaud. Why was I needed? Really, it wasn’t until the caravan was hijacked that anything requiring my attention happened.”

Haurchefant couldn’t answer that one.

“It didn’t help that he and that other knight of his kept a near-constant eye on me during both of those meetings. Only time he looked away was when Alphinaud started in on talks of rejoining the Alliance.”

He shook his head as he remembered how the boy nearly exploded at the Lord Commander.

“Regardless of my own feelings, I could scarce believe that Alphinaud would treat someone he’s trying to convince to join us like that. He’s not a master of persuasion, that’s for sure”, Dia admitted her own second-hand embarrassment for the boy. “He kept us all there for way longer than needed and he barely let Ser Aymeric have a word in edgewise, even though he was the one who called the damn thing in the first place.”

Haurchefant laughed to himself, “I must confess, ‘twas mildly entertaining to watch the boy lose his patience. He usually keeps on a rather cool demeanor in a normal setting.”

She smiled and let out a laugh, “Alphinaud’s still a teenager, no matter what titles you throw at him.”

“Indeed, he is. Anyways, I do apologize for whatever concerns the Lord Commander may have given you. He’s proven rather popular with quite a number of the Temple Knights.”

“Maybe one day, I’ll know why.”

**********

Shiva was defeated, Midgardsormr stripped her of the Blessing of Light, Moenbryda died because of Dia’s lack of strength without it, and it was a sunny day in Coerthas. Dia had tried to take her mind off of the events of the last few weeks by collecting materials for both weaving and selling to her fellow adventurers. After all, she didn’t feel much like a Warrior of Light. A weaver, perhaps. A botanist, sure. But Warrior of Light seemed all but gone. That damn dragon wouldn’t stop following her either. He seemed to pop in whenever he liked.

With her materials in hand, she stepped away, and headed for Revenant’s Toll, climbing down several malms-high hills and passing through rocky terrain. At one point, Dia looked around, taking a moment to see just where she was, instead of glancing at her surroundings in her usual tunnel vision focus on gathering components. Did I just climb this mountain for cheap weaving, she thought. She shook her head and continued her descent when she spied some figure kneeling on the edge of a cliff.

I should just walk away right now.

But she didn’t. She kept walking to see just what that figure was doing, making sure the person didn’t have an agenda that could land them in the craggy aether surrounding Ishgard. As she grew closer, the figure became clearer and clearer. It was a man, and he looked familiar from behind, but it wasn’t obvious who she was thinking of that so resembled him until he finally turned around.

There stood the Lord Commander out of his usual regalia and into a wine red alpine coat, a white tunic underneath, and black thigh-high boots with black hose underneath. He looked utterly flabbergasted to see the Warrior of Light stand behind him.

“Oh! Ser Aymeric! I didn’t-uh-you-“ she stumbled, and immediately saw just what he was doing there- there was a gravestone at the end of that cliff. “Oh, I’m-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize that you were, uh, visiting someone. I’m so sorry, I’ll leave you be.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Dia” Aymeric said calmly after she turned around and tried to leave.

Godsdammit, Dia.

She stopped and turned back around to face him. “You interrupted nothing. I was visiting my father, and my visit was at it’s conclusion.”

She stared down the gravestone. The first name was unclear, but “Borel” stood out. “I see. I’m sorry for your loss”, she offered her condolences after giving herself a chance to calm down.

“He passed not long after the Calamity. He and my mother were rather…how should I put this…elderly by the time it came about.” He turned back around and looked down to the gravestone.

“I don’t always understand why the men I command fight their battles- plenty do it for prestige, some do it to rise above their station in life, some do it because it’s the only thing they know how to do. My father did it for an undying devotion to protect his country. He may not have always agreed with the Church, but he fought so Ishgard might come to see peace for the first time in a millenium. I think he did everything he could to instill these beliefs in his only son, and I hope that I can come close to doing right by his hopes for me. I owe him that much, at least.”

Dia just stood there and listened. This was the most clarifying moment she had in a long time.

What do you know? He’s mortal.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to place all that on you, Dia. What I really wanted to do was thank you personally.”

“For what?”

He scoffed. “For taking down the Father of Dragons himself, Midgardsormr.”

She swore she could hear the little bastard snickering behind her.

“Oh, think nothing of it. It’s pretty much all the gift of Hydaelyn at this point”, Dia brushed off.

Aymeric hummed and crossed his arms. “Forgive me if this broaches on heresy, but somehow, I disagree.” She raised her eyebrows at the thought. “How so?”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, it was my duty to bestow a mighty sword unto a champion.” Before he could continue his example, a nearby tree dropped a decently thick branch. Aymeric walked over and picked it up, using the branch to help give a visual to his metaphor. “This sword”, he said, aiming it at her as though it were real, “is the mightiest sword in all the land. It can defeat any enemy you wield it against in combat, and has the potential for the betterment of all mankind.”

He lowered his stick sword and placed it horizontally into both of his hands. “If I were to create criteria for choosing my champion, I would want more than merely the physical strength required to wield it. Nay, I would needs trust my champion to use it properly, in the name of all people, and only use it against those who would bring great danger unto us all. I would needs know if this champion has the fortitude to fight and keep fighting for all the realm. I would needs know if this champion has the heart to love the realm even when it seems the realm has forsaken her. Most of all, I would needs know if she truly needed the sword to be the champion of the land.”

Aymeric kneeled down and presented the stick sword. “To that end, I would entrust it unto you, Dia Sito.”

Dia didn’t know what to make of the display, but played along and took it from him, holding it like a real sword. He stood back up and looked her in the eye.

“I won’t pretend to understand Hydaelyn. If it were me, however, I would consider any blessing as little more than a formality. I’ve seen you face down danger and march into it personally. I simply refuse to believe that your bravery and determination only come from her gift. Mayhap there was something your soul did in another body some time ago, but she knew who to select as her blessed, and personally, I don’t think she would give such a gift lightly. She chose you for a reason. If her reasoning is anything like mine, she knows you won’t entirely need it to be the Warrior of Light.”

She blinked. Yes, he was being presumptuous about the nature of the Echo, but still, Dia found his faith in her rather endearing.

“I…thank you, Ser Aymeric.”

“For what?”

She swished the stick sword around for a moment and answered, “For your sentiment. It’s…been hard goings, you know?” she admitted, trying to avoid mentioning how her blessing was stripped of her.

“I doubt not the difficulty of your tasks. I know I’m not always available, but know that you have support from behind Ishgard’s walls, and people who believe in you.”

She smiled. It did help to know that. She didn’t immediately trust him wholeheartedly, but she was glad to understand him a bit better.

“‘Twould be remiss of me not to thank you for one more thing, Ser Aymeric.”

“What would that be?”

Dia thrusted the stick to lightly touch it against his heart. “For this all-mighty sword.”

Did she just…make a joke, he thought. Aymeric laughed aloud for a few seconds, “But of course. ‘Twas my sacred duty to bestow it upon you”, he returned with his own joke. She grinned and laughed herself.

What started as a rather solemn visit for him ended in laughter. Perhaps this was her real gift, he thought.

“Might I ask you to accompany me back to the Gates of Judgment? I would be delighted to hear your tales of derring-do from the lips of the hero herself.”

She supposed if he was indeed working for Garleans, she could probably take him. “Very well”, she responded. Aymeric’s eyes lit up like a child at the sight of his Starlight presents, and stepped beside her and requested, “Please, tell me of the primal, Ifrit. That was one of the first that I had heard.”

Dia couldn’t help but be a bit amused. She debated telling Alphinaud of their discussion and how this rather cold and calculating man they met before became an entirely different person in nothing more than a few minutes with a story. Perhaps Haurchefant was right, and he merely had a vested interest in her adventures not as an agent of the Ishgardian government, but as someone who fully enjoyed these stories on his own time.

Maybe he’s not working for Garleans, after all.

[schrijverr]

The Media in a Quirk Society

An essay or more a thought piece about how the media adapted to the appearance of quirk. How genres changed and how the media influences and is influenced by society.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~

Something that makes me so very curious is how media must have developed in the BNHA universe after the appearance of quirks.

We hear almost nothing of media other than the news within the universe itself. For now it escapes me if All Might Cartoons are actually mentioned in the show or something of fanfiction. But another fanfic phenomena are pre-quirk movies, aka movies of our time.

The latter is a thing we must agree on, since there was a time before there were quirks wherein movies were made. This also implies that the pre-quirk superhero genre has existed (think MCU or DC)

I want to examine how that must have changed with the appearance of quirks based of what we’ve seen in the show.

When we see the beginnings of a quirk society, we meet AFO, who rises in the chaos and especially the scene where he takes and gives a quirk stand out the most. Quirks weren’t excepted yet, especially visible quirks, while at the same time a quirk means power. We also know the hero profession rises here, because it was too much for just law enforcement.

So we have these components, which all make for really great stories… in hindsight.

After the fact there must have been many stories about a lone police officer, becoming a hero as he saw the force around him crumble. Or a weak person, suddenly developing a powerful quirk that helps them get out of an impossible situation. Or maybe even about someone who feels they are deformed and shunned from society by their quirk and how they overcome it.

But at the moment it was happening there was still a lot of resentment about quirks and people who had them.

When quirks first entered the stage, people who had them plunged the world into chaos or had to hide like the man who goes to AFO to get his quirk removed.

I can imagine that if movie productions could continue in those turbulent times they would focus on the normal guy, still fighting against a suddenly super-powered villain or a quirkist (as I shall refer to it) take on a person who gets a quirk and turns evil.

Or they might even ignore the whole quirk situation in general with a new genre that can be boiled down to ‘No Quirks – AU’ wherein the movie is based in pre-quirk times. This genre would have a lot of nostalgia at first, probably, trying to call upon how simple life was when villains weren’t terrorizing the streets and heroes were just a funny thing of TV.

Maybe it will develop later.

Maybe it will become how difficult it must have been back then with no simple quirk solutions to problems. It might even turn into a genre about invention, mostly, with a fascination in the public of how things that run on quirk-solutions now, could have been solved by a quirkless scientist in the before times.

But back to the developing genre that is set the BNHA real world. Wherein quirkless people might have gotten a center stage in the early years, before quirks became so entrenched in society that quirkism developed against what used to be a majority.

I can picture a young Midoriya watching old movies wherein the quirkless protagonist was the hero against the evil quirks, telling himself that one day that could be him.

However, with the rise of heroes the media attention probably shifted.

The manga/anime describes it as ‘ordinary civilians with their own Quirks decided to take matters into their own hands to bring order to society, and thus the first "Heroes" appeared.’ as it says on the fandom wikia.

This shifts the narrative of quirkless hero against the chaos of quirks, to brave citizen stands up using the power they’ve been granted. Maybe they gave it religious undertones or maybe it was the story of taking the moral high ground and doing what was right for your country and neighbors.

In those early days you probably have more stories reflective of the pre-quirk fictional heroes, wherein the main character has to hide that they’re out there every night breaking the law to bring order.

It can be that at this time the narrative that the police is just the ‘villain taxi service’ starts to originate among bitter storytellers, who have seen the police fail where heroes did not. Though this would be more older filmmakers after this era is over, who start this. When heroes have become accepted, but they still remember how bad the police reacted before.

But on the topic of heroes becoming accepted, that must have been a civil right movement, a right that had to be debated with villains reflecting how bad an idea public quirk use could be.

You can see in the ‘Liberation War Arc’ how something like that could have played out and how it makes for interesting media entertainment as it is a story arc in our world, meant to amuse. Mixed with the fact that the first heroes created order in the chaos, there must be a ton of movies following activists or a hero not only having to fight the villains, but also the system.

And then over time heroes morphed into what they are now.

Hero became a profession and quirks the norm. After a while, just focusing on quirks got less interesting and using quirks as just a backdrop became more interesting.

Sure, you still had the hero genre and with actual figureheads these can range from documentaries to inspired by real life movies or just fictive fights with characters that are obviously based off a real hero or just the real hero. Especially when heroes became depended on their popularity, there must have been plenty that signed an acting contract in the hopes of getting their name and image out there.

With Midoriya’s comment about Todoroki having the backstory of a protagonist, it is clear that the hero genre is far from forgotten.

However, the “normal” genres also developed with society and with quirks becoming normal and no one truly aching for the before times, they must be set in the BNHA world we know.

The tropes we know (and maybe love) will get a new twist to fit this society or maybe disappear completely. New stereotypes and assumptions based off quirks appear, even quirkism might become prevalent in media, teaching kids that those without quirks are freaks or weak and weird.

In my mind I picture a movie trailergoing “She has a water quirk, he has a fire quirk. Will they fall in love despite their different personalities?!?” or “When his family is murdered, he must track down the killer with only the quirk as clue. Will he find out what happened on that faithful day or will the path this sends him on be the last of him???”

The horror genre will also be transformed with the fear of people misusing their quirk being a big thing in society.

As for fantasy, this genre will change with super-powered people being the norm, you can have to get more creative to make it truly fantastical. World building, visually, will be more important to distinguish it from our world, creatures too since there are literally people with bird heads, for example, walking around.

Not to mention the potential of quirks being hereditary that can be used in dramas where the partner has cheated or as plot point as grant reveal of a main character being related to one of the antagonists or even in gang movies as them training together to use their quirks and them all being the same. That would make for a cool visual tbh.

Disaster movies also will be different than they are now. With protagonist who can have quirks that work against them in their situation or if it’s a more hopeful movie how they work together, piling together their quirks and other skills to survive.

And the crime genre will be so intrinsically tied to hero society and with the police being seen as kinda useless, it will be so different than how we know it now. Did crime become part of the hero genre? Is this a piece of cop propaganda left wherein the police tries to save their reputation? I don’t know, but I wanna think about it.

It’s just interesting to me how in a world where the super is normal, media has adapted and this has been keeping my mind busy over the past few weeks.

The transformation in society of quirks as something dangerous that needs to be stopped, to a few brave people standing up for what’s right to finally the commercialization of heroes so that they can keep doing their job.

You see these changes, that’s unavoidable.

Media is such a powerful tool and it’s hardly referenced within the source material (which I understand because there are already so many movingparts), but with the fall of hero society it is interesting how all that propaganda for heroes might disappear back to when quirks first appeared and how the cycle may start again.

~~

A/N:

There are probably so many genres and other stuff thatI haven’t considered, so tell me your thoughts about the media in BNHA!

((also I didn’t want to dive in how racism, homophobia, ableism will develop with quirks and notions people will have about them. It is important to think about, but I do not think that I am the right person to talk about it. If anyone does, tag me or comment the link, because I will 100% read it))

[singledarkshade]

Trapped

Summary: Rip and John are trapped by a cave in. Author Note: Just to note all my medical knowledge comes from ER and Greys Anatomy.

 Pain was the first sensation he felt as he made his way back to consciousness, it was like several small daggers stabbing into his leg while his arm was numb. As he forced himself not to succumb to the welcome blackness once more, he realised there was someone talking to him.

It took him a few seconds to focus on the voice but finally it became clear.

“Come on, wake up you mad bastard.”

John frowned, Rip was regaining consciousness but with the very obviously broken leg, head wound and possibly a broken arm John knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasant way to wake up. The cave in hadn’t done either of them any good but Rip had shoved John out of the way of falling rocks meaning he was worse off. John had busted ribs and his ears were still ringing.

“Cons…Cons…John?” Rip asked groggily.

“Got it in nearly one,” John noted, moving slowly over to the other man, “Should I ask how you feel or just assume it’s the same as you look?”

Rip licked his dry lips, “Is it that bad?”

“Well you won’t be winning any beauty contests,” John told him, “But you wouldn’t normally.”

“Ha ha,” Rip drawled sarcastically, wincing in pain.

Carefully kneeling beside the other man, John moved his finger in front of Rip’s eyes checking for a concussion, which he clearly had.

“What do you remember?” John asked trying to find out how bad a concussion.

Rip closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus before replying, “Energy spike. I followed it to these caves, and you were already here. We…we…” he frowned for a moment before grimacing, “You probably set off a security system and there was a cave in.”

“I set off the security system?” John demanded as he ripped a piece of his shirt to try to stop the bleeding from Rip’s head, “I’m sure you were the one who did that.”

Rip grimaced when John pressed the wad of material to his head, “There must have been sensors in the wall and if you’d waited two seconds I could have deactivated them…ow,” he cried in pain as he jerked his leg.

“You might want to sit still until we get out of here,” John told him.

“And do you know when that’ll be?” Rip asked, “Because no one will be coming after me.”

John winced, holding up his communicator and Time Courier both smashed, “Not unless you can fix this.”

Rip sighed annoyed, “There might be some components I can use.”

His eyes closed and John snapped, “Stay awake, Rip.”

“What?”

“You have a concussion,” John told him, “So, until we know it’s okay, I need you to stay awake. That and I don’t want to sit here listening to you snore.”

Rip glared at him, “Why are you here?”

“Same as you,” John shrugged, trying not to wince at the pain in his ribs the moment caused, “Energy spike. I was in the neighbourhood checking up on an old acquaintance, so I said I’d come check it out.”

Rip mused, “So hopefully someone will come looking for you soon but until then we’re stuck.”

John nodded.

“Wonderful.”

 The pain in his leg was familiar, and Rip knew it was broken. He couldn’t see it but had a feeling it was a compound fracture which meant it was not going to be fun getting it fixed.

“Hold on,” John suddenly said, “Don’t you have those things in you to heal you for emergency? Why haven’t you used that?”

“The nanotech emergency medical repair,” Rip nodded, “Unfortunately for them to work I need to be able to contact Gideon. Do you have a working link to her?”

“No,” John replied.

“There you go then,” Rip sighed.

John frowned at him, “You could have just said it wouldn’t work. There was no need for the sarcasm.”

Rip rolled his eyes, “Why is my left arm numb?”

“It’s trapped between your body and the wall,” John told him, “I could move you slightly, but it might hurt like hell.”

Taking a deep breath, Rip said, “Do it.”

“What?”

“I have my own time courier on that wrist,” Rip told him, “It’s probably been broken but between the two of them I might be able to put a beacon together.”

John stared at him before demanding, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“Concussion,” Rip replied.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, John took a hold of Rip’s duster and pulled him slowly so that Rip’s arm was free. The movement jerked his leg and Rip cried out in pain.

“Sorry,” John winced.

Breathing hard, Rip managed to move his left arm wincing to see the Time Courier on his wrist and how badly it was smashed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

                         *********************************************

 John pulled out his flask wishing he had water in it and not the whiskey he’d filled it with.

“What are you doing?” Rip asked.

“Trying to work out if I can turn whiskey into water,” John told him, “You need some. Unless you thought to bring a canteen along with you?”

Rip shook his head, “Didn’t expect to be here this long.”

“Well, you need water,” John told him, “Adding dehydration to the rest of your issues right now is not good. Your AI will be pissed enough as it is.”

“Gideon,” Rip frowned at him, “You know her name.”

John smirked before pushing, “But I’m the one on the ship these days. If you cared so much where have you been for the last few years?”

Rip stared at him for a moment before ignoring the question, “I need to sit up a little if I’m going to be able to create a beacon.”

“Do you remember how much pain you were in when I moved you slightly?” John demanded, “Not to mention it could make you worse.”

“No one knows we’re here,” Rip reminded him, “If I can make a beacon then we have a chance of getting out before we die. I’m willing to take the risk.”

 John winced when Rip screamed as he moved the other man to a seated position. Rip’s leg was a mess and John hated he could do nothing to help with the pain. Rip despised taking painkillers of any kind and he wouldn’t accept John using a magical solution because Rip hated anything that dulled his senses. He’d rather be in pain.

“Okay,” John said when Rip was in a seated position, “How are you?”

“Do I really need to answer that?” Rip forced out through gritted teeth.

Shrugging John asked, “What do you need to make this beacon?”

“Give me your courier and comms link,” Rip told him as he eased the Time Courier from his own wrist, “I have a tool kit in my pocket. Can you give me it?”

Carefully John reached into the pocket of Rip’s duster, it was always possible he had something dangerous in there. He’d almost accidentally blown his hand off during one of their misadventures trying to get a pen from Rip’s pocket. Thankfully, he located the toolkit without any damage to himself, Rip took it with a nod and quickly flipped through the devices he had before getting to work.

It was clear Rip was not as focussed as normal, he kept pausing and blinking as he studied the comms link and the time couriers.

A sudden spark of energy blossomed just to one side of Rip as though a portal was about to open before closing.

“Bollocks,” Rip snapped, working on the connections the same thing happened again making him swear once more.

“What was that?” John demanded, worried when Rip covered his eyes with his hand.

The former Time Master turned to him, “That was not only our energy spike,” Rip explained with a sigh, “But also the energy that started the cave in trapping us.”

“So, you caused all this?” John demanded.

Rip sighed, “It’s a bloody time loop. Trying to escape caused the very thing that brought us here. They happen on occasion.”

“Oh, they happen on occasion,” John mimicked annoyed, “So, what does that mean for us now?”

“Nothing,” Rip told him, “We’ve closed the loop and I should hopefully be able to set up a beacon to let Gideon know where we are and that we need help.”

 Rip felt like his head was filled with cotton wool. It was getting harder to concentrate but he knew if he didn’t then they’d both die in here.

“Rip,” John snapped making him jump realising his eyes had closed, “Stay awake.”

“I am,” Rip shook himself, focussing on the beacon he was trying to make once more.

They sat in silence for a minute before John demanded, “Hold on, you just caused the cave in by opening a portal. Meaning you blamed me for nothing.”

“I blamed you for not waiting to check for sensors,” Rip retorted, “And I’m right. If you’d waited only one of us might have been caught.”

John let out a snort of annoyance, “You literally caused the cave in but it’s still my fault?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Rip said, “You’re arguing with me to keep me awake.”

“No,” John retorted, “I’m arguing with you because you’re a contentious bastard who can’t admit that this isn’t my fault.”

Rip glanced at him, “Fine it isn’t your fault.”

“Oh no,” John frowned, wincing as his ribs protested, “You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m agreeing with you,” Rip replied.

“You’re not,” John spat back, “You’re being a condescending arse.”

Rip shook his head, not looking away from his work, “You wanted me to admit you weren’t to blame, you really need to make up your mind.”

He could hear John swear under his breath, while he made the final few connections. Taking a breath, Rip murmured, “Be listening for me, Gideon,” before he activated the beacon.

 John was getting worried about Rip. After he’d activated the beacon he’d closed his eyes and was getting worse. His skin was pale and clammy, he was no longer as cogent as he had been. John was no doctor but even he could tell that if they didn’t get Rip back to Gideon then the other man was a goner.

Checking the beacon, John winced at his ribs which were beginning to hurt more and more. They were definitely cracked and would start to impede his breathing soon. After what felt like forever, a portal opened at his side and John sighed in relief.

“Gideon,” he called.

“Mr Constantine,” the AI for the Waverider replied, “Where is Captain Hunter?”

“Just behind me,” John told her, “And in a bad way, where’s Sara and the crew?”

“They were visiting family when I received the distress beacon,” Gideon explained, “I came to Captain Hunter immediately.”

John grimaced, “Okay, his leg is broken and he’s unconscious now. I’m going to have to drag him to the medbay.”

“I cannot move the portal’s entrance, I could lose the signal if I do but I am waiting for you both,” Gideon told him, “I am assuming you did not escape injury and are just not telling me how badly you’ve been hurt.”

John rolled his eyes, “Just be ready for Rip.”

Grimacing John took a hold of his friend under his armpits and pulled him through the portal, wincing as Rip cried out in pain. Once on the bridge Gideon closed the portal and John sighed in relief.

“Can you activate his emergency medical whatever it was?” John demanded.

Gideon’s hologram appeared, “I shall but be warned this will not be pleasant.”

Before John could reply Rip screamed, his entire body stiffened as John watched the broken bone being pulled back down into the skin before healing over the wound. He stopped suddenly, falling limply on the ground unconscious.

“I have stopped the nanotech,” Gideon explained, “There is a stretcher in the medbay that you will be able to use to transport him there now.”

John sighed, he needed a drink.

                         *********************************************

 Rip felt warmth covering him and opened his eyes to a welcome sight.

“Gideon,” he breathed as she sat at his side in the parlour.

A fond smile touched her lips, “Hello, Captain. You know I am happy for you to visit when you are not injured.”

Sighing, Rip asked, “John?”

“In the other medical couch having his ribs fixed,” Gideon assured him, “Mr Constantine will be healthy again but unfortunately still himself.”

Rip chuckled, “A terrible outcome.”

Gideon smiled her fingers stroking his hair comfortingly.

“Am I sedated?” Rip asked.

“Your injuries were severe,” Gideon told him, “And if you had not managed to create the beacon you would not have survived much longer. I believed sedating you was the best course of action.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

Standing Gideon offered him her hand, “Since you will be unconscious for some time, shall we take a walk?”

Rip smiled and agreed. They started off the bridge into a garden that looked like the one at The Refuge.

“Where are the crew?” Rip asked thoughtfully as they strolled along the path, “Should I be thinking of a story to tell them where I’ve been?”

“The crew are not onboard and I will return the ship to the moment I left to ensure they have no idea,” Gideon assured him, “Your mission will not be compromised.”

“I wish we could do this together,” Rip reminded her, “But the Legends are needed to keep any aberrations in check, and they need your guidance.”

Gideon nodded, “I know. I would just prefer to be with you, Rip where I could keep an eye on you.”

Hugging her close, Rip sighed, “So would I but they need you more than I do. I will ensure I contact you with greater frequency.”

They continued walking for a few more minutes before Gideon asked, “What about Mr Constantine? Should I blank his memory of your survival?”

Rip considered this for a few moments before shaking his head, “No. I trust John will keep quiet.”

Nodding Gideon gave a small smirk, “I will ensure that he knows how unhappy I will be if he doesn’t.”

Chuckling Rip continued them on the path, he’d could enjoy being unconscious for a little longer.

 Rip opened his eyes and found John leaning over him.

“I have woken up to prettier sights,” Rip grimaced, standing up and testing his leg.

John frowned at him, “That’s the thanks I get for dragging you out of a cave? Typical.”

“Gideon,” Rip called.

“I’m here, Captain,” she replied.

Rip smiled, “Update please?”

“All injuries sustained by Mr Constantine, and yourself, have been mended, Captain Hunter,” Gideon told him, “I have a new Time Courier for you to replace the one you broke.”

“I wish I could stay longer,” Rip said sadly as he strapped the courier onto his wrist, “But I need to return to my mission, and you have to get back to the Legends.”

“What mission?” John demanded.

Rip sighed, “I can’t tell you but,” he stopped the other man from arguing, “I promise you it is important and for the protection of all.”

John stared at him for a moment before nodding, “Okay, mate. I’m guessing I can’t mention this to any of the others.”

“I would appreciate that, Mr Constantine,” Gideon spoke up before Rip could, she added, “And I would be very upset if this information was accidentally revealed.”

Rip forced himself not to smile while he chided, “Be nice, Gideon.”

“I am being perfectly nice,” she retorted.

Shaking his head, Rip offered his hand to John, “Take care of them for me.”

“Someone has to,” John shook his hand, “Be careful. Don’t want to have to save your sorry arse again.”

Chuckling Rip tapped the co-ordinates into his Time Courier, “Strangely I was going to say the same thing.”

With a gentle stroke of the ship’s bulkhead, Rip walked through the portal leaving his ship once more.

 John stood alone in the medbay for a few moments before he started up to the bridge. Taking a seat, he nodded, “Alright, Gideon, let’s go pick up the rest of the nuts.”

“Of course, Mr Constantine,” Gideon replied, “Before we leave however, I would like to remind you that Captain Hunter’s presence should not be mentioned to them at all. His mission is dependent on secrecy.”

“Don’t worry, Gideon,” he replied, “Rip would only leave you for something massively important. His secret is safe with me.”

With that Gideon flew the ship into the time stream heading back to the Legends.

                       *********************************************

 This was based on the prompt by @theadrogna from the RipChat Holiday Exchange that wasn't used at the time. John Constantine and Rip are trapped somewhere, one or both are injured and have to survive long enough to be rescued.

[btawizzle]

Guide to : Essentials Career Path in A nutshell

What makes the most sense to you right now for your career development? Since I’m taking a Journalism major in Uni, I really think that the most sense decision I’ve ever thought about ( right now) is being a journalist and a screenwriter. It may sound silly, “you’re a Journalism major, of course you’re going to be a journalist”, but I seriously have many other things in mind when it comes to my job ( I really wanna be in a rock band, you know. I can play the bass or be the front man, but yeah )

And the things I have to do to develop my career will be everything that is related to writing. I can write fiction, children's books, essays, travel and beauty blogs, or maybe write a news/article. Looking forward to it~

What will complement your interests, skill set and the lifestyle that you want to have?

P-r-a-c-t-i-c-e

Okay, since I really want to have an extra boujee-parisian-lifestyle, I really have to work my *ss off. I honestly have many interests in things that’ll make money such as building a business, baking, drawing and also writing, but sometimes I just have 0 interest in practicing them. ( I guess i really have to) but for the things that I’m excellent at and don't really need a polish, that’ll be public speaking and it applies for any speaking related matters, like storytelling, and also speech ( If I have the material, too lazy to do the research)

I really want to work in entertainment, being a screenwriter and producing some work there, being a news anchor or PD at a radio maybe? but then if I finally knocked some sense into me, I guess i want to be a lecturer in a university that writes cool scenarios for their drama club and bake when bored

What do you find to be the most compelling thing to explore at this moment in time?

Honestly, figuring out what I want to do with my life. Maybe practicing some of my hobbies that I wish has a relation with my future career,like how digital video and design are supposed to work (whole adobe thingy), how to write an article/novel/blog/essays, coding? The most complicated thing I know on earth, that I wish I could just understand in a blink and also think about what I am going to do if I want to move to france.

The path you choose to follow will help you develop your career and achieve your ideal job. Therefore, it’s important to explore the different approaches available before you begin. In the next step, you will start to look at some of these approaches.

Do you already have an idea of what your ideal job is?

I really think that the idea of an ideal job is something that gives you enough money to live but not really draining you out of energy. I mean, if you’re that busy you never get the fun anymore in those jobs, the money , it has to be worth the energy that you drained, you know.

People often talk about how your passion should be your source of money blah blah blah, but sometimes, we just don't get the fun anymore if everyone pushes us to make enough money for living everytime we do what is called our passion.

I’m thinking about being a teacher with ok money and then do my hobby/dreams as the side hustle ( you know, if i’m not pass out because m’too tired), that’s my ideal job

But if we’re talking about dream jobs? Oh how I just want to be in a rock band and do gigs until the day I die, or maybe marry Damiano David from Maneskin and become a housewife? Yeah, sounds good.

What do you think the path to it looks like?

Before we finally become a lecturer, we have to-at least- have a master degree. So, because it’s 21th century and the school tuition is not cheap, I plan to take a scholarship, and hopefully I can go to europe.

I plan to be the best at uni, not that ambitious, but just to make sure I graduate on time. Until then, I plan to do my best as a uni student, like joining some organisation , doing some internship, and obviously practicing my writing abilities. I plan to find a part time job that is related to journalism ( applying to a magazine/online zine/newspaper) or something like that really, anything ( photographer, make up artist for newbie models) and keep a little amount of money for future me.

After that, I’m going to take a B1 placement test on my german, and then maybe korean/french? And of course, IELTS so i can go to europeeee for my master studies

Ok then after uni, i want to work at a magazine while I’m applying to those scholarship studies. Ok then I got the scholarship, quit the job, went to Europe having my studies and living my best life. Hopefully I will be able to still work there and get my PR maybe? And then do literally what I want. Lecturing maybe, or get a job on some movie production ? become their screenwriter. yeah

Have you previously considered that there might be different approaches to your career path? Or is this a new concept for you?

Yes, and I am super open to it. I’m just going to try my best and the rest is not in my hands. Whatever happens later in the future, that’s what my work pays off, or that’s just what god wants me to have in my life. I’ll accept it with open heart ( hopefully)

#I really want to be rich and happy.

Before you explore these further, there are a few key areas you need to keep in mind:📷

Career goals

Knowledge

Skills

Personal characteristics

Experience

In order to start on the career path you want for yourself, you need to make a plan about what you’re missing in each of these areas and what you need to acquire. Identifying purpose or focus in this way is called ‘ikigai’ in Japanese. You can read more about ikigai by visiting the links in the See Also section.

Whichever approach you choose to develop your career, these are areas you will need to focus on to see what could be further developed as you build your career.

Now let’s explore five different approaches:

1. Matrix

The matrix approach is about having skill sets in different areas and bringing them together to create a profile that is distinct to you. You may have a variety of interests you want to pursue. With the matrix approach, you can explore how to combine these interests into a role which is unique to you.

For example, someone who would like to study web programming, as well as design, could look to combine these interests and become a web developer for any company or organisation with an online presence.

2. Ladder

The ladder approach is better suited for those who know exactly what career or job role they want. They have a dream job in mind or a dream company they wish to work for, so they’re willing to work their way up the ladder to get there.

For the person that aspires to work in television, that might mean starting out as a runner on set. They may then work their way up to get a role as a director or an executive producer, or whatever that ideal role might be.

3. Entrepreneurial

The entrepreneurial approach is about turning an idea into a business and learning along the way. You apply your current skill set whilst rapidly growing your capacity in all areas of business. It takes a lot of work, patience and courage, but can be deeply rewarding for anyone who finds this path to be of interest.

4. Network

The network approach is geared around building a network of contacts that will be mutually beneficial. For example, if you were at a tech networking event and you met a few founders, this would be a great opportunity for you.

What is key in the network approach is to ensure that you’ve thought through what you can offer someone, so that it’s a mutually beneficial and authentic relationship.

5. Portfolio

Creating a portfolio might be more commonly associated with jobs in photography or graphic design. However, it is both relevant and necessary across many disciplines. Many employers will want and need to have an idea of the type of work you can do, so the portfolio approach is a great way for you to demonstrate your skills.

If someone were looking to build a career in public relations, for example, they would be at an advantage if they had a portfolio of their previous coverage. This highlights not just their contacts but what type of work they are capable of doing.

A portfolio is just as valuable a commodity as your CV, so you should build one in line with the career you are interested in pursuing. It is also a great way to share your work and skills with people beyond a job application. For example, you could add it to your LinkedIn page, website or any other medium.

Summary

Choosing the best approach for your career is an essential component of your lifelong career development. There’s no guidebook or master plan for building your career. You can take a sabbatical, be a stay-at-home parent, or even move down a position.

The important thing to remember is that your approach is your own. If you find that multiple approaches like those mentioned above appeal to you, find a way to combine those to take the right approach for you.

Share your experience:

Have you already been using any of the approaches mentioned in this step?

Can you find any examples of other approaches for developing your career? Not for this moment, but I’ll definitely go with Matrix combined with a portfolio approach. I am building my portfolio in tumblr, wix and wordpress.

Why not have a go at exploring a few of these approaches further? I wish to explore more and I will do it thx.cash

[missmentelle]

Tips for cutting off toxic, manipulative, and abusive parents?

I recently wrote a guide to escaping from a toxic household if you are currently living with your parents, but to summarize, cutting them off basically boils down to two things: financial independence and emotional resolve. 

When you are cutting your parents out of your life permanently, the most important thing to do is to get yourself into a position where you no longer need them for anything financially. This doesn’t necessarily mean that you need to be debt-free or living a middle class lifestyle - you just need to be able to pay for all of your rent and expenses every month without any assistance from them. If you are still in school, you need to secure a way to pay for your remaining tuition - like a scholarship, needs-based financial aid or student loan - and make sure that you don’t need your parents’ signatures on anything to get that money. Needing any kind of money or material support from your parents gives them leverage over you; it’s something that they can hold over your head to maintain control of you. So long as you rely on them for room and board, tuition or financial support, cutting them off is not going to be a realistic option for you - once they have no financial hold over you anymore, they have no weapon to wield against you. 

Achieving financial independence is something that is obviously easier said than done, but as someone who has been financially independent since age 19 (not because my parents are abusive, but because they are flat broke) and financed two degrees by myself, there are a couple of tips that you can use to get there as quickly as possible:

Start saving money in a place where they can’t get it. Make sure that you have a bank account in your name only, so that your parents cannot take money out of your account or tell how much you have. 

Start building your credit. You will not have an “oops, mom, I’m short on rent this month, can you send me $200?” lifeline that your peers have. Your “in case of emergency” plan is your credit card. Get a basic credit card - even if it’s a “secured” card that makes you keep $500 in your bank account to get it - and start building your credit. Make one purchase with the card per month and pay it off right away to avoid interest. Be responsible with your card, and build a good credit score as quickly as you can - this will make it much easier for you to rent apartments, get loans and buy a house later down the line. 

Get a budgeting app or spreadsheet and learn to use it. Make sure you know exactly how much you earn, how much you spend, how much you’re saving, and how much money you need to have in order to be financially independent. Knowing where your money is going is an essential part of the process. 

If you’re in school, try to graduate on time. Make sure you are taking a full course load if you can, and make sure that you are taking the correct courses for graduation. Delaying graduation often means delaying your independence. 

Ask for help when you need it. If you are in school, ask your financial aid office or student advisor for information about scholarships, bursaries and grants. If you’re working, ask your boss about professional development and career advancement opportunities. 

Take on odd jobs if you need to. I have worked many odd jobs to keep myself afloat and build my savings - you can see if anyone needs babysitting, tutoring, help with yard work, dog walking, etc. I’ve done paid freelancing writing, taught English online, delivered flyers and taken on part-time jobs; sometimes you have to grind a little bit to give yourself a cushion of savings. 

Minimize your spending. It goes without saying, but it’s easier to be financially independent if you find ways to live on less money. Find roommates or rent a room in someone’s home instead of finding your own apartment. Try to minimize your subscription services and make sure you’re not paying for subscriptions you no longer use. Learn to cook and make as many meals at home as possible. 

The other important component of cutting off manipulative and abusive parents is to gather up your emotional resolve and commit to cutting them out of your life. Toxic and manipulative parents will use every tactic in the book to try to get back into your life - you know your parents best, but expect that they might beg, lie, threaten, make false promises, make appeals for sympathy, or use other underhanded tactics to try to regain control of you. They may drag other people that you care about into the situation and have those people plead on their behalf. Some do whatever they can to get you to drop your guard and let them in again. Start thinking about that possibility now, so that you can prepare for anything they might throw at you. Remember:

Don’t panic if your parents call the cops or report you missing. If you are an adult, you cannot be forced to go home to your parents, even if your parents report you missing. If law enforcement contacts you, answer their questions, explain that your parents are controlling, let them know that you don’t want any help and tell them that you don’t want your personal information released to your parents. Your family will only be told that you were located safe and that your case is closed. 

Lock down your social media and online presence. Block your parents from your phone, and make sure that they are blocked from all of your social media accounts so that they cannot get information on you. It may be a good idea to set your accounts to private for a while or change your handles and profile pictures so that they cannot find you. 

Prepare yourself for the possibility that you might have to cut off other family members too. When you cut off your parents, brace yourself for the possibility that other members of your family that you were on good terms with - aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, etc - may take your parents’ side, or may reach out to encourage you to forgive your parents “for the sake of the family” or “to keep the peace”. Being free of your parents sometimes means cutting ties with family members who won’t respect your decision. 

Remember the reasons that you decided to cut them off in the first place. Sometimes when you’ve been away from an abuser for a while, you will start to forget the abuse and become nostalgic for the good times that you had with that person. You might even decide that you “overreacted” by cutting them off and consider give them a second chance. Tread carefully with this. Remind yourself of the reasons you left.

The first few months after you leave may be difficult. Your parents may fight back against your decision as hard as they possibly can, and you may find that you have a lot of grieving to do - not because you miss your parents, necessarily, but because you have to come to terms with the fact that you will never have the loving and healthy relationship with your parents that you may have wanted. You will get through it. Seek out support from therapists or from other people who have cut off their parents. Focus on forming new, healthy relationships with the people in your life. Build a life free from abuse, a life that makes you happy and fulfilled. Stay strong, stay focused. Remember that you deserved better than your parents were willing to give.  Best of luck to you.  MM

[aubergineanathema]

Beneath the hillock

Part 1 - The ruin in the clearing: Preface Part 2 - Whispers in darkness Part 3 - Käsdorf and Wulvosburg Part 4 - Secrets behind stone walls Part 5 - Wind chimes and wildflowers -----

Part 6. Genovefa led Ottiline to the little dwelling in the side of the mound. She had to duck to step through the door, and feared she might need to crouch to avoid the ceiling, but was shocked to find herself stumbling down a short set of stairs. There was ample room for her to stand up straight as she reached the bottom, and she was amazed by the sight before her.

Light streamed through the ceiling from small hidden windows in the ceiling. Above her hung countless drying plants were bound with twine, and on each wall were jars and pots full of innumerable substances. She caught sight of a few things—what looked like peppercorns, some sort of small twigs, pale-colored pebbles, thistles in brine, what looked like varicolored sand—but there were so many jars in the room that there was no way she could discern them all, especially as some were made of clay, hiding their contents. A counter near the center of the room seemed to meld into the stone floor itself, and off to the side was a cot and a hearth beside it, with another small fire burning and another pot simmering above it. There was even a doorway on the far side of the room, suggesting the dwelling stretched even farther underground.

Ottiline stared around at all of this in awe.

“Come now, sit down here.” Genovefa motioned to a stool beside the counter and left for the hearth, collecting whatever was simmering there into a small goblet. 

Ottiline did as she was bid, and took the warm vessel into her hands. The a sweet smell enveloped her.  

“It’s lavender and rosemary. It will sooth your mind.” Genovefa smiled and Ottiline found herself smiling in return. She sipped the floral broth, and settled into her seat.

“Now,” Genovefa stood opposite of Ottiline at the counter and again looked her in the eyes. “Please speak freely, and tell me about this dream. Exactly as you saw it.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” Ottiline blurted out. “I told Aunt Agnise that it was, but it was real! I know it was real. I saw a demon.”

She waited for this woman to react in some adverse way, but that did not happen. Genovefa just nodded seriously, and waited for her to continue.

“I was out after dark. I snuck out after everyone had gone to bed. I heard a wolf howl, so I decided to get inside, but before I could,” Ottiline’s voice wavered slightly. “I was attacked. I ran to the chapel. It looked like, it was the height of a man. But it wasn’t a man, and it was floating there in the air! It sounded—looked like it was just, made of crows! And it had these horrible red eyes. I thought it was going to kill me.”

“But then it just....flew away.” Ottiline finished meekly, and sipped her tea.

Surely, she thought this woman would think her cursed, or possessed, or touched in the head by some other means. In Cologne, there were people, usually impoverished and on the streets—or locked away in some well-meaning relative’s attic—who spoke all the time of demons and ghosts they claimed were real. The church, too, spoke of demons all the time, and of angels, but Ottiline had never really believed any of those things. Until now.   

“Why were you out, dear there? Did you feel compelled by some force?” Genovefa asked, without skipping a beat.

“Oh? No. No, I...” Ottiline felt a sudden surge of two emotions at once. She felt very embarrassed as to the reason she had been out so late, but thus far the woman had given her no indication that anything she had said merited embarrassment. Underneath that was a growing sense of suspicion, perhaps even a hope, that this woman already knew what she had been doing out in the fields that night. So she took a deep breath, and explained. 

“Well, I got this powder from a merchant who was passing through about a week ago. He called it a ‘powder of protection,’ all the way from the shores of France. He said it would turn any fire purple, and that burning it would activate the powder’s protection in whatever area the fire was. The reason I went out was to protect the village, and the powder did turn the fire purple for a moment, so I think it worked.” She shrugged. “Maybe the reason that demon left me alone was because of that powder.”

Genovefa’s pensive expression slowly morphed into a grimace over the course of Ottiline’s explanation. She shook her head with certainty. “I’m afraid not child.” 

“Why not?” Ottiline’s brow furrowed.

“Because magic is more than some alchemist’s illusory powder.” She said evenly. “I assure you, there is more magic in that tea you’re drinking than in the charlatan’s bag of tricks. Whatever he gave you, he was more interested in persuading you to part from your money than in protecting anyone.”

“I knew it!” Ottiline stood up quickly from her stool.

“Knew what, my dear?”

“You are a witch!” Suddenly, Ottiline felt hot all over. She looked to the tea she had been drinking. What sort magic did it hold? She wondered, feeling a bit light headed.

“Of course, my dear.” Genovefa did not seem offended by the accusation. “I suppose Agnise prefers to refer to me as some old kenning woman, but the name does not change the fact that what I practice is indeed magic.”

“Finish the tea, dear. It only serves to sooth the mind.” She gestured for Ottiline to sit back down, and went to the hearth to pour herself a cup of tea as well, sipping gingerly. “If you want protection from what you saw in the village, I can provide it.”

“That’s not all I want!” Ottiline remained standing. “Please! If that really was a real demon, and you really can do magic, I want—I need to know what you know. I need to know how to do magic.”

Genovefa was paused for a long moment. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why do you need from magic?” Genovefa repeated. “What is your intention? Intention is no trifle, my dear. Intention is everything.”

Ottiline hesitated.

“Cousin Nicolaus, Uncle Steffan, Aunt Agnise, they are all I have left in the world now. I can’t let anything happen them.” Her voice trembled. “Kasdorf is all I have, and so I need to protect it. I intend to use magic to protect what I love.”

The old woman sipped her tea, and stared at Ottiline for another long moment. At long last she nodded, and went to a shelf of jars, collecting a few and setting them on the counter. She then began to circulate around the room, pulling bundles down from the ceiling.

Ottiline watched as the old woman seemed to produce all sorts of materials upon the table. Various jars of stones, wood and powders, and piles of dried plants, dyed candles and even an inkwell. Upon the hearth she removed the pot of tea, and replaced it with a small iron censer, and soon smoke began to permeate around the room,

“What—what is going on? What are you doing?” Ottiline forced herself to ask.

“A protection spell for you to take home with you. Roasting upon the fire now is thyme and rosemary. One purifies the room, and the other prevents distractions.”

Ottiline nodded mutely, as she realized she was being given a lesson. Genovefa muttered to herself something over the hearth that Ottiline could not make out, and was too stunned to ask about. She then organized various ingredients upon the table, adding them to a small glass jar in order of importance, and explaining each one.

First, an assortment of plants made their way into the jar. “Violets and lavender together create powerful protection. Chives and garlic ward off negative energy, and add power to the spell.”

Then, a powder that reminded Ottiline a bit too much of the powder she had bragged about earlier. Her cheeks reddened as Genovefa noticed this, and she smiled. “This fine salt will not make your lantern purple, but it’s purpose here is to keep the spell and the contents of this jar pure of any external ill intent.”

She then carefully deposited three small stones into the jar. “These black stones ground the spell to whichever place you decide to cast this spell—recently charged by the light of the full moon.”

Ottiline listened, in awe of this new information.

“Did you learn to read and write, growing up in Cologne?” Genovefa asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yes.” Ottiline blinked, surprised that this was a component.

Genovefa nodded. “Very good.” She handed the young woman a quill already dipped with glimmering black ink, and some small pale strips of wood. “Writing down the names of those you love can focus intention, and strengthen your spell. You can use something of theirs, or a lock of hair—but writing their names work just as well.”

These pieces of wood, too, went into the jar, and it was sealed with the wax of a dark-colored candle.

“Ottiline, remember this well: no magic is effected without a price. “ Genovefa explained softly as she sealed the jar. “The the contents of the jar, the energy from the burning herbs and candle, as well as our own energy is offered here in making this spell. When you cast it, bury it in the ground, your words will lend further strength.”

“What will I say?” Ottiline asked, feeling breathless. This was certainly a more involved process than sprinkling some powder onto a fire.

“What you say will depend on your intentions, and will affirm the purpose of the spell. Remember the ingredients and their natures, focus your intention, and remember to whom the spell is dedicated.” Genovefa retrieved from Ottiline the inkwell and quill, and with slow diligent strokes drew a symbol onto the glass. To Ottiline it looked like an M and and R, fused together as one. It resembled the symbols on some of the wind chimes outside.

“For instance, this sigil dedicates the spell to the goddess Eir.”

“A goddess?” Ottiline felt her body stiffen suddenly. “Do you have to dedicate the spell to a god?”

Genovefa paused to glance at Ottiline, and then returned to perfecting the sigil. “No, but they can help you. They can lend their strength. Eir is the goddess of healing and protection, and the more you foster a relationship with her, the stronger your protection magic can become.”

Ottiline’s eyes widened slightly, and her face set with determination. Whatever her reservations, she knew stronger was better. “Okay.”

Genovefa handed the sealed jar to Ottiline, and began to clear off her counter.

“What do I owe you for this?” Ottiline asked, holding the jar as though it might shatter. She produced from her bag a small pouch of coins.

“You will return soon, and I will show you more.” Genovefa replied simply. “My craft is not learned overnight. If you want to learn, it will take time. But that will be of more reward to me than the coins you stole from your uncle. Better to return them.”

Ottiline reddened, not knowing how Genovefa had known the origins of her meager wealth. Hastily, she bid the old woman farewell.

***

That night, Ottiline waited for everyone to be asleep. She knew the demon could well have been roaming the streets of Kasdorf, waiting for her, but she knew she needed to take that chance, and she would not be intimidated.

Still in her sleep-clothes, she slipped out into the quiet darkness, and began to walk towards the chapel. If anyone were to see her, she could claim to be sleepwalking. The chapel was the oldest and most central point in the village. The best place, she reasoned, to place a spell of protection upon the village. She kneeled at the cornerstone of the building, and began to dig.

She had thought all day about where to bury the protection spell, and had spent more than a few moments just staring at its contents, and the sigil Genovefa had drawn. Staring, and wondering, if any of this was even true. It had seemed so real in that intimate underground space in the woods, just like those red eyes had seemed real in the darkness. After the fact, they both seemed like dreams.

As she placed the jar into the hole she had dug, sigil facing upward, she took a deep breath, and wondered. How different was dedicating a spell to a goddess than to a prayer? Prayers had never helped her before. Not when she had uttered them herself, as their neighborhood had been sealed off from the rest of the city. Nor when the priest has chanted them in Latin over the feverish bodies of her dying parents.

She shook her head, as though trying to displace those memories. She pulled the dirt back over the jar roughly to hide it from view. She was willing to try.

“Oh, Eir, goddess of healing and protection.” She began, and immediately her voice faltered. “I—I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can, please, lend me your strength. I—I have so little strength of my own. I can’t do anything, protect anyone, not even myself! Not from bandits, or frost, or the plague, or that demon that stalks in the night. I’m weak...”

As she spoke, a few tears trickled down her cheeks as she spoke, dripping into the dirt. “Take this offering of herbs and salt and stone and help me. Protect this village and the people I love. Please. Please, help me!”

She did not know how long she sat there, staring at the wet dirt. A few more drops of water fell upon the dirt, and also upon her, startling her into movement. Rain.

The wind had picked up, disheveling her hair as she stood. She felt a prickling upon the hair of her arms, as though a storm was on the approach. She looked up towards Wolvosburg, and indeed she spotted black clouds, and the flashing glow of lightening within them.

She decided it was time to go back inside, and try to sleep. -----

This has been Part 6. For more, see my Fiction Updates post.

---- If you like this or my other original work, please feel free to share with your friends (with credit of course). I would really like feedback, so don’t be shy to talk to me about it!

[blissfulalchemist]

"wind chimes" + dealer's choice!

Dealer’s choice said that this would relate to Hypatia’s story just from a different perspective. I wanted to write a little more Conner I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy!

The elevator doors open before him, eyes scanning for the placement of the cameras in the building. Blind spot still where it always is, first corner on the left wall and Conner makes a brief stop looking down to the simple cord bracelet it's only embellishments four small periwinkle blue stones, angelite. The magic still reads strong but he’ll have to find the materials to strengthen it soon, I should ask Abe to send what I need on a subscription, he thinks letting out a breath, continuing down the hall. He hated playing babysitter to Tia despite it being the best thing for his mission, hated having to keep everything hidden away, how much easier it would be if he could just tell her. Mostly he hated being this close to people that would sooner see him and those like him gone from the world. They’d never do it themselves though, but they wouldn’t be first in line to help if you were in trouble. A debt was a debt though and Conner would pay it. Zmey only sent Conner here because he was so good at following the rules and keeping his head down. Pristine Alchemist behavior.

Fifth door on the right, glass panel in the off white door, a doorstop keeping it open two inches exactly. He saw her, dark hair with the fading purple and green highlights pulled up into a ponytail, hunched over the table mumbling what he knew to be Greek, the power radiating off of her. Of course Conner would find Tia here, right in what she dubbed the “witchatorium”, avoiding the combat training. Conner slipped in quietly as to not break her concentration, looking over the ingredients and book in front of her, Impressive, she’s making her way up in difficulty. He gave a small smile, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. She didn’t look up at him, but the chanting was coming to an end, “I told you already I’m not making you a potion to get a date, Conner.”

Conner rolled his eyes, “I get plenty of dates, Caro,” he lied, “Just went on one the other day.”

“Spending an extra five minutes ordering at the coffee shop doesn’t count as a date,” she smirked, amused eyes glancing up to him briefly, “Was she cute at least?”

“Who?” Conner walked closer to the table, looking over at what she was channeling her energy into, Spell needs two people ideally, bold of you to try it on your own, he thought having seen his mother perform it once before. 

“You’re date dummy,” Tia couldn’t roll her eyes but Conner could tell it was there, “Was she cute?”

Conner gave a shrug, “She was,” he saw her eyebrow raise in a small nod of acknowledgement, “Not that it should matter to you.” Tia started to repeat the Greek incantation louder this time around, Conner mumbling behind her the magic flowing easily and weaving nondescript with hers. He nudged the next item she needed, a piece of petrified wood from Lesbos, within reach of her. Her eyes focused intently on the gold ring bringing the wood next to it along with a small piece of white quartz, Conner looking for the chimes she would be hitting soon. He let out a breath through his nose seeing it on a shelf just to the right of him, This is why we read through all the instructions Tia. He glanced once more seeing her gaze fixated on the items in front of her, his hand reached up to the small wind chime waiting to hear the right words. 

She started on the fifth line of the incantation, Conner letting his fingers drift through the chimes, their music filling his ears as the melody matched the beat of Tia’s spoken words. The spell was used for protection against curses and hexes, the music of the chimes meant to be uplifting to aid in dispelling the negativity that was brought along. Two people were meant to cast it as one was to help in fending off the gods, the original bringers of curses. Each little component tied to a meaning dating back thousands of years….and looking at the chime he just played it wasn’t the right kind with the right notes. It would work in a pinch sure but the spell wasn’t going to be at full power once all was said and done. 

He suppressed a groan as he grabbed hold of the chimes, the melody stopping abruptly. Conner flinched at the sudden silence, the spell was already screwed up and he just finalized it. He shut his eyes tightly waiting for the tilting feeling that came from a complex spell going wrong, the one Tia didn’t notice as she continued. The feeling never came though, met with just the fading and faint sounds of a wind chime blowing in a summer breeze. Conner slowly opened his eyes, seeing the soft golden light surrounding her. He’d never seen anything like it around another magic user, as he took a step closer the chimes got louder, their sounds muffled and feeling like a softly blurred memory. He listened closer, tuning out her words, the notes playing correctly, but unable to focus on the shape of the wind chime, just a feeling, like it was the right one, the one that was needed for this ritual. 

His breath caught as he admired her, the golden ring around her emphasizing her facial features, soft and full of laughter. The way her eyes turned to a bronze in the sunlight, how her smile brightened in its harshness, dark hair flowing behind her, the laughter….oh the laughter that harmonized with the world and echoed in the vast emptiness of the desert. It was her world and her memories that brought about the music, her happiness personified. He wanted to join her, partake in what she was showing him, his hand reaching out to touch her, falling short as he felt the magic start to dim and recede. Tia finished off the last few steps, her breathing slightly labored as she looked up giving a smile before collapsing to the ground. 

He moved to grab her, stopping her head from making contact with the ground. Her skin glistening with sweat, face having gone pale, Conner reached into the small fridge just below the work station. He pulled out the bottle of fruit punch, she hated the taste of orange juice, moving her to sit up more, the open bottle brought to her lips. Tia took a few sips on instinct before she took hold of the bottle, the contents gone in seconds. The color returned to her face as she moved to grab another bottle, this one disappearing slower. She beamed looking at Conner, “How did it feel getting to second base with a scary and evil witch?” She held her fingers up as if they were claws, Conner rolling his eyes. 

“Glad to see you’re back to normal,” he stood half heartedly making the Alchemist sign against evil on his arm, “Were you successful in your endeavors?”

Tia’s eyes lit up as she stood quickly grabbing the gold ring, smile turning to a frown as she studied the ring. “Sort of I guess,” she sighed, “It’s not as powerful as it could be,” Surprised there’s any power in it at all. She looked back over the instructions, “I wonder where I went wrong.” Conner made a show of reading over her shoulder, her eyes catching him, “You know Greek better than me, right Khaki Pants?”

He opened to protest the nickname, looking down at the wardrobe choice for the day, khakis. “I may,” he leaned back crossing his arms, catching the small camera in the upper right corner, In their line of sight now, “Don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be translating spells that are for frivolous purposes though.”

“Oh come on,” she pleaded, her eyes sparkling, “It’s just one little spell. What’s the harm in that?”

“A lot,” he stated, “It’s bad enough we talk the way we do Caro.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ugh what is with you people?! Nothing more than a bunch of stiffs with backwards beliefs.”

“You’re the one that has something wrong with them,” he spat, the role he played coming back up. The rhetoric he repeated came out with such ease, Conner no longer flinched or gave much thought to it all anymore, “You’ve tainted your soul with this darkness. Might as well have joined the undead.”

Tia’s eyes narrowed, “I know you know that’s not true,” she stepped closer to him, finger soon touching his chest, “that you don’t even believe what they say.” His heart picked up its pace as he backed up out of sight of the camera, “You’re friendlier than the others Conner no matter how much you try to keep up the facade of not caring. Of hating me.”

He stumbled on his words for a second as he looked for the best way to change the subject. “We have to focus on the task at hand,” Conner finally said as she pressed him against a shelf the glass jars clinking, “Working with you and your dark magic is just a necessary evil, much like working with those evil creatures of the night.”

Her eyes, green under the fluorescents, flashed with her pain from his words, Conner’s heart falling, Please don’t cry Tia. I wish I could tell you how much I hate hurting you, “So that’s how it is,” she nodded her jaw tightening, sucking her teeth and stepping back, “Cool. Nice to know.”

“Caro,” he whispered, shaking his head, “it’s-. It’s just how it is. It’s the rules.”

Tia gave a snort, “Always the rules with you.” She looked down shaking her head, “So it’s the rules that say you have to just be an asshole then.” Conner swallowed, straightening himself out, shoulders rolling back, Tia flipped her hair back behind her shoulder, “So what did you come down here for if not to fraternize with the tainted.”

“You missed training,” he said flatly, “I was sent to bring you.”

She bit the inside of her lip, picking up the ring, “Bet they’re still waiting then.” 

Tia made her way to the door, Conner close behind, “You’ll need to change.”

“No thank you,” she grumbled, pushing on the button of the elevator, “They want to train me to fight, I’m gonna do it in the clothing I’d be wearing in a real life situation.” 

“It’s regulation to wear the clothing they’ve provided,” he argued, the door opening, “Besides your clothing is impractical as it is.” They both looked down to her cutoff jean shorts, dark purple tank top, and black Doc Martens, “You wouldn’t be wearing that once you’re in the field.”

“I’m not wearing khaki,” she retorted leaning against the wall, arms crossed, “Doesn’t work with my complexion.” He looked straight ahead giving a quick smirk, “Doesn’t work really well with yours either.”

“Thankfully this is just work wear, Caro,” the elevator dinged, doors opening once more, “I have more colors at home.”

Her eyes went wide, “Bullshit,” she laughed, “I don’t believe you for one second.”

“It’s true,” he shrugged, holding the door open for Tia, “Just never saw me outside of here.”

“See now you gotta take me out so I can,” her smile returned in full force, dimming once seeing Conner’s face, “Let me guess, it’s against the rules.” He nodded, Tia letting out a small groan, “Well guess I gotta find paint swatches and hold them up until I find the colors that work best for you.” He rolled his eyes, half listening to her ramblings as they made their way down to the training center, Tia stopping just outside the door, “Is it sunny outside today?” He nodded, giving a slight tilt to his head, “You think they’ll let me train outside today if I ask nicely?” 

No, they would all claim it was too dangerous, too much of a risk. They couldn’t risk you running away on them. You’re too valuable to them, “Since when do you ask nicely?”

She gave a light punch to his arm, “I can be nice.” Tia looked up to the ceiling, “I just miss the feeling of the sun on my skin is all,” her eyes met Conner’s giving a small smile, “Rules are rules though right?” With that she gave a shrug leaving Conner standing alone in the hallway. He looked around the basement level frowning. I can think of one excuse that might work, he thought, making his way back to the elevator, Could make up for today if I can pull it off.

[mithrilwren]

Closer Still

Shadowgast, ~5000 words. Also on Ao3!

This began as a discussion with @the-littlest-goblin about what the fantasy equivalent of the “trapped in an elevator together” trope was. Naturally, the answer turned out to be “trapped in a pocket dimension because we (two idiot wizards) decided to experiment with time magic together and got in over our heads” :) Where better to get to know one another?

Cw. panic attacks, minor self-harm and discussions thereof (nothing beyond Caleb-typical levels)

Also, VERY explicit hand-holding. Be warned.

---

“There isn’t a door,” Caleb says, as he stares out into the formless void. “There was supposed to be a door.” They had planned - in all their meticulous notes on interdimensional spaces and incremental trials, in every mutual assurance that we will start with the simplest scenario, for safety’s sake - for there to be a door.

“No, there isn’t,” Essek agrees.

In fact, there’s nothing at all. Which is… worrisome. 

Caleb is, to a certain extent, familiar with inter-planar spaces. He’s studied them aplenty over the years, both from books and his own intuition. Frumpkin presumably hails from a pocket dimension much like this one when not with Caleb, which should be a comforting thought. Given their actual circumstances, it is wholly not. 

The emptiness stretches on forever, in every direction - a phantom sea of black that lacks dimension and boundary, but still feels confined. The manner and shape of the confinement isn’t something his mind can fully wrap itself around, but his body seems to instinctively shrink back regardless, hearkening towards a non-existent center, which is merely the place they appeared. The only thing outside himself is Essek, still clad in his mantle and balancing an open book in one hand, that contains their notes for the spell they now find themselves trapped within: pages of calculations and predictions and copied phrases from Halas’s work.

The first step had seemed self-evident, at the time - obvious to both of them in the same breath, a singular shared thought. When their eyes met the spark was palpable, and away they went. It was a simple application, far simpler than what they attempted with Nott. Combining Essek’s knowledge of dunamancy with Halas’s successes on time dilation - along with Caleb’s own work on the vault of amber - had seemed almost too easy. It had taken less than a day to design the rudimentary spell, and less than two hours to collect the necessary components, and then... after all, why wait? They were ready, quicker than they could have believed, to test the results. Here, in a space all their own, they might begin to recreate a little of the Happy Fun Ball’s mystery.

Only, at every stage of this feverishly hurried plan, in every hastily sketched schematic and ink-stained diagram, they had always meant for there to be a way out. A door, back to the material plane.

And there’s nothing. Literally, nothing.

“This is certainly a… predicament,” Essek says lightly. Too lightly, and he is not such an accomplished liar that Caleb can’t sense the hint of unease beneath his steady words. “Perhaps we moved too quickly - there must have been a variable we missed.”

Caleb reaches his hand out, feeling towards the edge of… well, there isn’t an edge. The space has no frontier, and its absence comes as as much of a surprise as the missing door. When he’d read of such magic before - spells to create demiplanes, and things of that nature - the books had always included descriptions of rudimentary walls of stone or wood. Here, there’s only the endless expanse. It’s almost akin to the beacon’s limitless interior, if all the stars within had been snuffed out. 

There is a floor, however. That’s even stranger, because it certainly doesn’t look like there is. Essek still hovers a few inches higher than Caleb, but his own feet rest on a surface no more solid than the immaterial blackness above their heads. It doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing to be standing on.

The moment the thought occurs to him, Caleb begins to fall.

The terrifying descent lasts only a few seconds before Essek’s arm shoots out and grasps his shoulder. Gasping, Caleb jerks to a stop and finds himself… exactly where he started, the unseen floor beneath his feet yet again. He claps a hand over his mouth as his stomach heaves. 

Essek’s fingers uncurl from his shoulder as quickly as they’d snatched it, and Caleb presses his hand down all the harder, like it will keep his breath inside of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, which helps. His body can accept the emptiness when it can sense a reason for it.

“The vertigo will pass,” Essek says softly, but closer now. The vicinity around his shoulder buzzes, like something hovers there, unseen. “I’ve seen the same reaction in those unaccustomed to a dunamatic field. Your body will find equilibrium, once you accept the reality that cannot be seen.”

Mostly reassured by that logic, by any logic that his mind can cling to, Caleb opens his eyes. Essek is still a few feet behind him, like he hadn’t moved at all. No indication that he’d even gotten near enough to touch Caleb’s shoulder. No reason for why his voice sounded close by, only moments before. Abashed, he opens his mouth as he steps forward, meaning to thank Essek-

And immediately pitches forward onto his knees. Only his knees have nothing to land on, his hands have nowhere to scrabble towards, and he is spinning, the room- not a room, nothing- is spinning, and there’s nothing holding him together as he falls-

“Caleb!” Essek’s shout, unmasked and truly unsettled at last, rattles through Caleb, and he can’t stop moving in place, like he’s spiralling out of control, like his body doesn’t belong to him-

The buzzing returns, and tense fingers find his shoulders again, dragging him back up into something like a kneeling position. “You need to focus,” Essek is saying, reprimanding, voice harsher now for the worry that lies beneath the words, and the expanse is dark, and there is nothing, and as the panic reaches a crest, then a lull, he becomes nothing too.

Caleb knows what it means, to float away. It’s protection, like every other piece of armor he wraps himself with. But knowing what it is doesn’t mean that he can stop it from happening. 

Hands gone cold and numb, he curls into himself as best he can, turning his face down- there isn’t a down- every direction is down, oh gods- and tries to make himself small-

Essek’s fingers him release again. His breath comes out sharply somewhere above Caleb’s ear. “What’s happening, Caleb?” More quietly, “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t like talking, in this state. Talking is… difficult, and he clamps his mouth down harder, determined at least not to be sick. He doesn’t know what would happen to the vomit, if he did. Would it even fall away, in a void like this, or would it hover in the air like Essek’s feet? He can’t help but giggle at the thought, and the laugh is a wrenched thing, short and torn. His mind drifts further still. 

Something dark and heavy falls over his head - thick material, soft but clinging. It catches in the strands of his hair, blanketing him from his forehead to the small of his back, and with slightly shaking fingers he reaches up and draws the fabric closer around him. The sensation is such an unexpected shock that his breath stutters, slowing to a less frantic rate as he centers on the feeling of the weighty mantle over his head, and the strangeness of it all.

“Does that… help?”

The buzzing. Essek is thinking of touching him, he realizes. Caleb reaches one hand out from below the cloak, feeling for Essek and still finding nothing. He draws it back beneath as the panic begins to build again. A moment later, there’s a solid presence at his side, and an arm wrapping around his shoulders - cloak and all - gripping almost too tightly for comfort. The pressure is unexpected, and exactly what he needs. 

“Is any of this helping?” Essek asks again, still so uncertain, and now that the feeling is returning to Caleb’s body, he can begin to sense the tension in Essek’s. At least he’s not the only one uncomfortable.

“You are real,” Caleb says hoarsely, which seems a sufficient answer in his own head. Something here is real. If Essek doesn’t understand his meaning, he doesn’t have the energy to explain. “Yes, it is helping.”

“...I’m glad.” Only then does Essek’s death grip on Caleb’s shoulder relax, and he steels himself to be let go of again, chest squeezing as he anticipates the absence, but Essek only changes position, readjusting the mantle so it drapes more fully over Caleb before settling back into the awkward, one-armed hug.

Beneath the cloak, the darkness of the floor could just be the lack of light. It gets a little easier to breathe, and Caleb leans his head against what he assumes to be Essek’s shoulder as he pulls his knees under the cloak as well.

“We should leave here, as soon as possible,” Essek says. “I did not expect you would have such an adverse reaction.”

“How do we leave? There’s no door.” Caleb’s words feel sluggish, slow, like they always do in the minutes after a bout like this. He’s probably repeating himself. Maybe. He doesn’t have it in him to care, at this present moment.

“I… don’t know. If we had simply gone to a remote part of the material plane, this would be easier.” Essek says, frustrated. “I have no experience teleporting across planes. I suspect if I tried, we would be ripped apart, or worse.”

“Could we dispel it?” Caleb says. This is a problem. A problem with a practical solution. That’s good. That’s something to focus on. 

“From the outside, perhaps. But the plane itself isn’t magic, only the spell that created it. And I’m not sure I want to find out what would happen to the creatures inside an artificial plane if it were dispelled.”

“I imagine we could be lost forever,” Caleb says. “Like Halas, trapped in his gem for eternity. Only not in a place that a group of merry assholes would stumble upon us.”

“What of your group of ‘merry assholes’?” Essek suggests. “Presumably they’ll come searching for you eventually.”

Caleb nods, only realizing belatedly that Essek can’t see his face. “Nott will wonder where I am. They all will, if I don’t return tonight.” Only, would the others think to worry right away? They know he spent the day with Essek, and that they’re both apt to work long into the night when engrossed in a project. How long will it be, before someone comes looking? “And what about your... coworkers? Will the Bright Queen miss you in court, if you don’t report in?”

Essek sighs, and the exhale flows into Caleb’s chest, the movement of his body moving Caleb’s as well. The back of his neck begins to prickle. He’s grateful now for the cloak for two reasons; his skin is too pale not to show a blush. Even if the situation is far from romantic, this kind of proximity to another person’s body is almost uncomfortably intimate. And it’s hard to separate his own embarrassment from embarrassment on Essek’s behalf. Neither one of them gives casual touch easily, and it feels too close to taking advantage, to ask it of him now, without allowing him a way to refuse. 

Caleb begins to shift away by millimeters. 

“I imagine, after a day or so. But she trusts me to use my time well, as I see fit. I’m generally left to my own devices unless explicitly summoned.”

A day or so. Well, if they’re to be trapped here that long, Caleb may as well start acclimatizing now. He doesn’t intend to spend countless hours wrapped in swaddling clothes, nor could he expect Essek to keep up the same treatment, centering as the touch may be. Even now, the arm that wraps around his shoulder is beginning to shake, and without being able to see Essek’s face, Caleb judges the tension to be discomfort on Essek’s part. 

Reluctantly, Caleb shrugs out of the half embrace and reaches up to draw the fabric down from over his head. Essek makes a soft noise of protest, but doesn’t stop Caleb from completing the movement. He drops the mantle in his lap and balls his fists into it, eyes still squeezed shut. 

No buzzing this time. Maybe Essek has finally tired of holding Caleb up.

“I’ll be alright,” Caleb murmurs. “The worst is past, I think.”

He swallows, willing his words to be true as he forces his eyes to open. The darkness is still waiting there, so he turns his head instead to Essek, keeping his gaze focused on the details of his garb - the gentle greys of folded cloth, the intricate embroidery along his belt, the slender line of his fingers, folded neatly in his lap and held there, meticulous in their stillness. Essek’s hands are stained with ink and chalk and golden flecks of dust, and Caleb had been thinking only a few minutes before they left, how very strange it was, to see such elegant fingers dirtied as much as his own.

Caleb doesn’t look him in the eye. It still seems too personal, for all of that. 

They’re both sitting now, in a way, and maybe that helps too. It’s easier to believe the not-there floor is actually beneath them when Essek’s legs, tucked neatly to one side, are also touching something seemingly solid. 

Caleb pulls the mantle over his lap like a blanket, not quite ready yet to surrender the comforting weight. Then he places his hands on his forearms and begins to scratch at the long sleeves. That pressure is soothing in a different way. It’s a more familiar kind of comfort, as he digs the nails in deeper. He thinks he catches Essek’s eyes narrowing, but it’s been a long time since he’s been able to stop the habit, no matter who watches on.

As a last ditch effort, Caleb snaps his fingers. Unsurprisingly, Frumpkin doesn’t appear. The cat is tethered to the material plane, not this pocket one. Mouth twisted in displeasure, he returns to the scratching with renewed vigour.

“Tell me if it gets bad again,” Essek says. Even if his words are unassuming, he’s still watching Caleb’s hands too closely.

“I will,” says Caleb, not quite sure yet if he’s lying, but eager to change the subject regardless. “After an hour, the spell will expire anyway. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be ejected when it does.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Essek says. “Let’s hope.”

“Let’s hope.”

Essek falls silent, almost meditative, and in the absence of his voice there’s nothing but silence either. At least the beacon had a sort of hum to it, a cosmic energy - brimming with what he now knows as life, unimaginable and vast. This feels more like the quiet rooms of the asylum, where they hung dark sheets against the wall, to muffle the sound of-

Caleb digs his nails in harder. The memory stutters and shifts, and he can breathe again, for a few minutes more.

“Forgive me,” Essek says, then reaches out and takes Caleb’s wrist in his hand, drawing it away from his arm. “I…” His mouth twitches, and he turns his head away. “I’m afraid you’ll break the skin. I don’t have healing magic like your compatriots, and we don’t know how long it will be before-”

“Essek,” Caleb warns, because by the quickening pace of Essek’s words, it seems like he’s not the only one in a spot of panic anymore. 

“I don’t enjoy watching you hurt yourself.” 

The instinct to apologize is almost too great to fight, but he manages to reign it in. It isn’t what Essek is looking for, what will make him stop watching Caleb so intently, after such a forlorn admission. No, what he needs is reassurance. “Well,” says Caleb. “I think you will like it better than the alternative.”

“Which is?” He still hasn’t let go of Caleb’s wrist. Caleb doesn’t try to fight him. He’s not sure if he wants to.

“Me losing my head,” Caleb mutters. “Trust me, I’ve learned how to cope with...  stressful situations. This is effective.” 

There. They’re both practical people. Rational people. An explanation like that should keep Essek off his case.

Then why hasn’t his hand moved?

“Just because it is effective, doesn’t mean it won’t hurt you.”

Caleb can’t help but smirk at that, the bitter irony sharp on his tongue. “You are more right than you know.”

Essek abruptly releases his hand, almost startled, like he hadn’t realized he was still holding it. “Forgive me, again. That’s three times now that I’ve touched you without permission.”

Oddly, Caleb finds himself more touched by that nervous courtesy than by the gesture itself. In a rush of reckless, unexpected affection, he reaches out and grabs Essek’s hand. Essek freezes. “There’s nothing to forgive. It helped.” He pauses. “It all helped. Thank you.”

Essek stares down at their entwined hands, and Caleb chances drawing a thumb across the smooth skin at the back of his knuckles. He half expects to be pushed away once more. But Essek endures the touch, and eventually even squeezes back. 

Breathless for a new reason, Caleb slides his fingers down, until they’re laced with Essek’s. It’s almost like a game, to see who will push the moment farther, first, and Caleb is so entranced that he nearly forgets where they are. 

Essek’s fingers are softer than his own, and darker. They’ve borne less days on horseback, weathered fewer storms, seen less battle and flame. The skin feels so different, yet it’s stained, same as his. 

All of this is so new.

“Alright,” says Caleb softly. “Instead, tell me something, to take my mind off this place.”

“What would you like to hear?” Essek’s voice cracks near the middle, a veneer of composure chipping away, and Caleb knows now he’s not the only one affected. 

Neither of them have pulled away yet.

“What was your childhood like? Was it happy?” Caleb flicks his eyes up to Essek’s, to find Essek staring right back, his eyes as wide as Caleb’s ever seen them, dark and alight from within. “Were you loved?”

“Yes,” says Essek. “And no. To all questions.”

Caleb smiles wryly. “That’s an answer, but not a very good distraction.”

Essek’s lips twitch. “I suppose you’re right.” He sighs. “My mother loved me, as much as any parent loves their child. But she had many responsibilities. And... “ The fingers between Caleb’s tense. He smooths his thumb down the side of Essek’s hand again. “Well,” Essek says, half-smiling, half-sad. “I think she was afraid to feel too much, before she knew for certain.”

Caleb’s own smile drifts away. He doesn’t know the direction of this story, but he thinks he knows the shape of it. “Knew what?”

“Who I was.” Essek shakes his head. “Everyone assumed I would start regaining memories of my past life when I reached adolescence, as so many do. She had no guarantee that by the age of twenty, I would still be the boy she raised. I believe she was… waiting. To fix her estimation of me, until she knew who I would become. I could have even been the vessel of someone she knew in a past life. How uncomfortable it would be, to feel a mother’s affection for an old friend.” Essek shrugs. “But her waiting was in vain. I never became anything, and by then it was already too late. I left home soon after it became clear that the memories were never coming - which did not please my father, I might add - and here we are. Still friendly, but distant.” 

Caleb purses his lips. He doesn’t have anything to say that seems adequate, but he squeezes Essek’s hand again.

“Can I ask you something in return? ...No, that’s not what I meant to- I’m sorry, my phrasing was poor. You need not answer if you don’t wish to.”

There it is again, that consideration. Wanting to respect Caleb’s boundaries. When they first met, Caleb had envisioned all sorts of things Essek might ask of him in return for the favours they owed. Familiar things. Dark things. Things that he would despise with every inch of his being, but would have had no choice but to endure without complaint, for the sake of his friends. 

It seems all so incongruous now, to picture Essek making those sorts of demands. Caleb feels… secure, with him. Safe, almost.

Safe.

He doesn’t use that word often.

“I’ll do my best to answer, if I can.”

Essek lifts his other hand and, after a careful look, places it just above Caleb’s wrist. He brushes back the sleeve, revealing a sliver of bare skin. “The scars you bear… where did they come from?”

Six months ago, the question itself might have sent him right back into a spiral of panic, but having shared the story twice now, he finds the thought of recounting it less fearful than it was before. 

It occurs to him that he could lie. And perhaps he should lie. Essek is, after all, still their handler, at least in name. Foolish, to give up something so personal to a spymaster. But Essek asked. And Essek has proven himself trustworthy before.

And Caleb finds himself very weary of lying.

“They were given to me,” he starts, “by my teacher.”

Essek, to Caleb’s relief, doesn’t flinch or grimace at the admission, but his eyes narrow a little more. “A punishment?”

Caleb shakes his head. “A means to make us stronger, and… hmm. To advance his own knowledge. An experiment.” He thinks of all the pages spread out over Essek’s desk, still waiting on their return. 

An experiment gone wrong, that’s what’s trapped them here.

How very far we mages are willing to go, just to learn that little bit more.

“You said before that you were trained within the Empire. Was this teacher employed by the government?”

“He was part of the Assembly.” Essek’s fingers twitch. “Trent Ikithon was his name.” Caleb glances up, and sees the mask of unreadable interest is beginning to shift. Bits of dawning realization live in the crease of Essek’s brow, the slight widening of his eyes. “But, of course, what he did was for the good of the Empire. Like you said before, few necessary choices are moral ones, and Trent made it his living to walk that line.” His words twist up with bitterness, and he can’t help the pointed barb. 

It’s been lingering in the back of his mind, Essek’s comments over dinner, all those nights ago. He can’t blame Essek for being drawn in by the allure of the moral grey that the Assembly exemplify. After all, he spent many years under the same spell. But Essek is not the same as Bren. He grew up under a different sort of indoctrination. He can still be reasoned with, made to see the Assembly for the danger they represent. Caleb needs to believe that.

“Back then, I believed he had my best interests at heart, and more importantly, the best interests of my country. But now… I cannot see any justification good enough to excuse all he did to us. The experiments... and everything else.”

Essek’s hand still rests above his wrist, fingertips grazing the first of the scars. 

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen, at least. Not a child,” he clarifies. It feels important, somehow, to make that distinction. To say that he was too young to know his own mind would be a justification for his own actions, and he refuses to make it one. Even if he has no intention of revealing the end result of his training, even if Essek never asks about his parents’ fate and he never answers, in his own mind, he cannot stand to make his age an excuse. 

Essek breathes out slowly. “Sixteen is still a child, in the eyes of the Kryn. At sixteen, life has only begun.” 

Caleb stubbornly swallows around the lump in his throat. Telling this story has gotten easier, but his body still betrays him, every time.

“Ja. Perhaps you’re right. I felt for a long time, that sixteen is where my life ended. Many things happened after that, and I would not call what I was for the years that followed ‘alive’. It’s only recently- since I met the others, that I started to wonder if there was still something left. Some life I could still live, after all of this is done. I don’t know yet if that is true. But… I want to believe it is.” 

Caleb looks down at their hands, still intertwined. He has thought, in scant moments, that there was something there between the two of them - something growing, inch by inch, in the shrinking space between. 

When they first met, there were so many barriers in that space. They were handler and subject, favour-giver and debtor, reluctant allies from two worlds at war. But now the platforms have shifted, and the ledges that seemed insurmountable have become, by nature of perspective, very small.

Something between them.

Some life he could still live…

“I’m sorry,” Essek says at last. There’s a husky edge to his voice that Caleb isn’t sure he’s ever heard from him before. “I’m sorry this was done to you.” Essek’s thumb starts to trace hesitant lines down the edge of Caleb’s hand - a nervous approximation of what Caleb had done for him. The rush of endearment that comes from the realization is almost overwhelming, and Caleb bites the inside of his cheek to keep his breath from stuttering out as he speaks.

“It was a long time ago.”

Essek’s thumb doesn’t pause, and eventually Caleb leans over and rests his head on Essek’s shoulder, feeling brave and exhausted in the same turn. His head is heavy, emotions wrung out from anxiety and release and too many hours of frantic work leading up to this moment. His eyes begin to close, and he lets them. After a long, long moment, Essek’s body begins to relax as well. 

He isn’t sure, after the fact, which one of them is the first to drift off to sleep.

---

Caleb wakes to the bright light of morning spilling out of the skylight above his head. He blinks, confused, up into the eyes of a familiar blonde-haired mage. 

“Welcome back,” Allura says, and her pleasant smile is tinged with just the slightest hint of exasperation.

Beside Caleb, Essek groans and curls over onto his side, pulling his hands up beneath his chin as if cradling a pillow and turning away from the light. So, Essek is not a morning person. He tucks that information away, still impossibly endeared. 

They aren’t holding hands anymore, but he can’t help but notice that Essek’s mantle is spread across them both. 

“I assume you are our rescuer?” Allura offers Caleb a hand and he takes it. As the mantle falls away from his lap and hits the floor, Essek startles awake with an undignified gasp. Off to the side, Jester giggles. 

He sees the rest of the Nein hugging the edges of the circular room, looking equal parts relieved and annoyed. “Maybe tell us next time you two decide to go traipsing off to another dimension?” Fjord grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re lucky Nott knows how to read your notes, or we’d have thought you’d just disappeared.”

“Which you’re totally cool,” Beau adds, smirking as she looks pointedly at the shared cloak. “You guys want alone time, that’s a-ok. Just like, let us know ahead of time, so we don’t send out the cavalry to find you.”

Nott rushes up and wraps her arms around Caleb’s middle. “The pages said the spell should only last for an hour, so we called Allura after Jester couldn’t reach out. ...We did good, right, Caleb? You wanted to be rescued, right?” She also eyes the shared cloak dubiously. 

“You did good,” says Caleb, rustling her hair. “Thank you for coming to our aid. And thank you,” he says, turning to Allura. “You must be tired of rescuing foolish mages from prisons of their own making.”

“All part of the job description, as I’m finding out,” Allura says mildly, dusting off her robes. “Next time, please double check your work more carefully.” She sighs, then gathers her bag to her side. “Alright, I’m off - hopefully, I’ll be back before my wife notices I’m missing and gives me an earful.” Essek, finally having picked himself off the ground, opens his mouth to try and offer his own thanks, but Allura is already gone. 

Caleb turns back to Essek, who is currently in the process of smoothing down his hair back into its usual elegant coif. It’s only partially successfully - a few strands still stick up at odd angles - and Caleb grins sheepishly.

“Not a great success, was it?”

“No, it was not.” Essek turns instead to brushing out the wrinkles from his tunic, which only draws attention to its current rumpled state. Jester giggles again, and Essek flushes, but resolutely does not look in her direction. “Still, at least we learned something?”

He offers his hand to Caleb for a congratulatory shake. Back to business as usual, it seems. There can be nothing more, before so many watching eyes. Even so, there’s a sort of tremor in Essek’s hand - an anticipation, that wasn’t there before.

I think we both learned more than we set out to.

Caleb gives Essek a small smile, and takes it.

[fuse2dx]

November ‘20

Cross Code

Cross Code is a game that is trying so very, very hard. The story is based around your character being an avatar within an MMORPG, and its this kind of game-within-a-game setup that is used as a cheeky way to skirt the fourth wall and have its characters make snide remarks at certain design decisions, while also going full steam ahead with them regardless of the fact. Don’t think we didn’t notice, dev team! It plays out as a 2D top-down action RPG, but clearly has aspirations that extend far beyond this framework. Each of its environments is thoroughly layered with subtle verticality, with parkour-esque platforming having you constantly working backwards from your intended destination, and requiring meticulous attention to detail in order to find where it is you’re able to begin your elaborate series of jumps from. There’s a huge array of materials to gather and channel through traders and to craft into gear, and the combat they benefit is both precise and complex, requiring plenty of on-the-fly thinking as well as tight execution. As well as these set-piece battles, the game’s dungeons are full of puzzles that though smart in construction, are tough enough in isolation, and frankly brutal in their relentless frequency. One particularly ill-advised chapter has a series of three such dungeons in quick succession, and perfectly illustrates that just because you can, does not mean that you should. 

On a more positive note, one thing the game does have in spades is charm. The sprite work is admirable; even though characters are a touch on the tiny side to be too effective on their own, their portraits and dialogue provide a solid emotive connection to them and the story that builds up around them. In all, it is a game that can be a lot of fun, and plenty rewarding - but the entire thing is overly long and far too regularly punishing. It’s tapped into a number of 16-bit action-RPG ideas well, but has perhaps unintentionally also managed to become the most masochistic presentation of these ideas to date.

Crimzon Clover: World Explosion

A game I’ve technically owned for years now, however the lack of a Windows PC has held me back from playing it - with this debut on the Switch finally granting me the opportunity though to get hands on. Although I’d gleaned plenty from watching super players decimate it before now, even my feeble credit feeding through the game’s five stages has given me plenty of additional appreciation for just how good it is. 

It looks brilliant, with chunky, detailed enemies animated beautifully as they move about the screen. The music pounds along to an energetic beat, and the game keeps a solid pace all while plenty of bullets swarm around you in creative and considered patterns. Turning the tides with Break Mode is an incredibly satisfying way to take control of hairier moments, and while I can’t speak for every intricacy of its scoring system, I know that it’s developed by a team that demonstrably understands the value of these. What I can more reliably add to that discussion is that you’re unlikely to find yourself reliant on any one hook to find your fun though; even the most pedestrian appreciator of the genre should find plenty to enjoy. Thoroughly deserving of its regular appearance alongside the biggest names in the genre.

Holovista

There’s often a reasonable amount of scepticism that comes from some folks when you talk of gaming on a mobile phone. Flipping the conversation though, and instead to talk of one of my favourite advantages of the format, it’s great that a developer can lean on the familiarity and the personal connection that you have to the device you’re playing on. As a device that lives by your side 24/7 and increasingly encroaches further into every aspect of your being, Holovista leverages this connection amazingly, spinning its story in a series of interfaces that mimic how your phone acts when you use it yourself. Taking pictures and interacting with people in particular are key interfaces, and that are done in a way that neatly puts you right into the shoes of their character. 

It begins with said character taking an interview for a new job that is hoped to herald a new tide of good fortune, and promptly introduces the circle of friends that are there to help with this and that celebrate alongside. As you learn more about the job, things slowly begin to get a bit weird, and then take a turn that is something akin to Black Mirror meets nightmarish introspection. Though not overtly unpleasant, there are some memorably unsettling moments along the way. Sensibly, it does have content warnings that offer some sound advice for those it might not sit so well with, but self-care does end up being a central takeaway from the game as a whole as well as for its cast. On the back of circumstances we’ll generically chalk up to this year’s being what it is, this ended up feeling like a lovely little palate cleanser -  a considered refresh, thoroughly original, and a very worthy afternoon’s entertainment. 

The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

One thing that’s always been great about Link’s Awakening came as a result of the technical limitations imposed by the Gameboy - that the Zelda format needed all the fat trimmed, while the mixture of puzzles and action were to be distilled down into their most potent and compact form. Even with the (entirely optional) extras they’ve slipped in with this remake, this still shines through in its design now, where it couldn’t be any further removed from the risks of overly long, dragged out pacing. A small overworld it may be, but it’s full of variety, secrets, and memorable moments. Dungeons are similarly economical with its good ideas - giving you new tools, laying out smart ways to break you into their use, and then letting you get on with things. 

While the remastered music is also utterly charming, the real upsell here is the total visual do-over; its tilt-shifted cartoon aesthetic pushing each and every scene to look like a shiny, hyper-cute diorama. For all of the different visual styles that the series has dabbled with in the past, this one definitely feels like the right match for the light-hearted whimsy that comes through from the story and the characters. That’s not to say that it’s flawless either - the blurring at the screen’s edges can be overly intense at times, and the overall presentation does cause the performance to stutter and feel a little sluggish at times. I point at these things only given the bar is raised so - something unavoidable when you already know a game is a stone-cold classic from the off. 

Astro’s Playroom

Coming pre-installed on your shiny new (and hopefully not scalped) Playstation 5 console, Playroom begins as a humble introduction to the capabilities of the Dual Sense controller. Touch control, haptic feedback, adaptive triggers and the like are introduced and may well generate some cooing and low-key positivity, however this enthusiasm is elevated by a mighty factor when the game truly begins and everything is put so deftly into practice.

It’s not a complex or particularly challenging title as far as 3D platformers go, with frequent checkpoints and no life counter in sight. Any mould-breaking to be done comes instead from the diversity in how you control various sideshows, with the entire kitchen sink’s worth of interface options being showcased as you climb into a monkey suit, blast off a rocket ship, bounce around as a pinball, and so on. All of these demonstrate ingenuity that could’ve easily gone awry, yet are quickly understood, and grounded in a level of both tactile and in-game feedback that maintains a natural feeling. The game’s worlds serve as virtual tours through colourful, fantasy depictions of hardware components that demonstrates an excellent level of both pride and playfulness, with fellow bots littering both the through-fare and the unbeaten paths, dressed up and enacting smart homage to generations of games and their characters, all while Playstation-themed collectables are doled out in tandem alongside smart, well-natured puns. It arguably borders on propaganda at times, such is the intense positivity. That said, the more extensive your tenure is with Sony’s platforms, the more likely it’ll dull your better judgement to this, instead letting slip a grin at what is essentially the grandest love letter to all things Playstation, and the warmest, most celebratory pack-in for a new console Sony could have ever hoped for. 

The showcasing of new features and hardware aside, it’s also a subtle and unofficial coronation of Astrobot as Sony’s newest (and best) mascot. There’s been plenty of candidates in the past who’ve half-heartedly assumed to own the position, but it’s the silent, cheerful charm which makes Astro that much more of an endearing figurehead. G'wan the little guy.

No More Heroes 2: Desperate Struggle

For someone that loves Suda51 and adored No More Heroes, my reaction to No More Heroes 2 on its original release was comparatively tepid. With a third game due next year, this re-release felt like the right time to revisit it and see it through, and although I found some things to enjoy, I certainly found plenty to remind me why I had bounced off it previously.

Roaming about in Santa Destroy between missions is gone, instead replaced with a short check list of destinations. While not a fan of the change myself, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing - though it does give a misleading impression of tightened focus that is very quickly lost as it lays out a spread of half-baked, and frankly clumsy mini-games. As well as being your prime source for money and upgrades, these do a lot to artificially increase the length of the game, and put simply, they’re just not fun enough to warrant this level of prominence. Even the main story has frequent moments where it veers away from the core 3D hack and slash gameplay, and again, these do more harm than good to the game’s flow.

The fighting underpinning it all has undoubtably been done better since by any number of titles, and though imperfect, it is still serviceable and enjoyable for the most part. Boss battles definitely hold the lion’s share of the game’s highlights, but there’s a few that also stick out with some poorly executed designs that tars its lasting impression. Shades do remain of the ridiculous, irreverent charm of the first game, although they are certainly more infrequent, and a more modern lens also brings into question just how sincerely we should take the sending up of Travis, when cast upon a backdrop of frequent fanservice. Not the best sequel then, but let’s hope 3 gets things back on track.