#this is not proof read and if i make no sense you'll associate it to my character

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

riddle's post-ob flashback in the light novel

Like the Leona post, I’m going to discuss the extended detail that the light novel goes into with Riddle’s backstory, then integrate it with what we know of him from the game. It looks like this is going to be a trend for the light novel, so I’ll most likely do similar analyses for the other OB boys as more volumes come out!

Anyway, read on if you’re curious 👀

Okay, so 🤔 from what we can observe from Riddle’s in-game post-OB flashback sequence, his mother has been dictating almost every aspect of his life, from what and how much he eats to his lengthy, rigorous study routine. As recently as Riddle’s Broomquet vignettes, we learned that even at 5 years old, he had already started and become accustomed to his intense studying. When Riddle fails to complete a task sufficiently, his mother has him redo it or study more until he finally succeeds.

This was Riddle’s “normal”, and he completely bought into it. In the game, this is explained as Riddle having trust in his mother due to her reputation in their community as a competent and well-respected medical mage. "After all, she was the most accomplished mother in the city, and therefore, the most correct." Riddle associates "correctness" with "accomplishments", and we see this attitude carry out in other aspects of the main story. He talks down to Yuu for lacking magic and brags about his own standing as top student to Azul, who regularly fluctuates from 2nd to 10th place. The light novel, however, grants us new perspective as to why Riddle tries so hard in his studies and seeks to please his mom. In turn, we can see how this domino effects into his struggles to connect with others.

In the light novel, Riddle notes that his mother would always tell him "everything is for you". "Everything", in this context, I'm assuming refers to all the time and effort Riddle is putting into his studying, the tight control of his life, etc. His mother has framed all of this as being beneficial to Riddle, and that she herself is pushing him to engage in these things because she loves and cares for him. This is something that Riddle then interprets as meaning she must love him the most in the entire world, something that he tells himself to justify her own actions in his own mind. It becomes a piece of "proof" that, later down the line, will make it difficult to reconcile with his complicated feelings on her once he realizes how toxic her child raising tactics were. (I go into more detail on this topic in this post!)

Riddle also says that if he responds with "yes, mother" then he will be praised for it. This, you'll notice, is a phrase that is very similar to what he demands his own dorm members respond to his orders with: "yes, dorm leader". It implies that Riddle is used to deferring to her judgement and authority, and so expects the same obedience of others when he is in that position of power. This agrees with his behavior in book 1. As Ace points out, Riddle is just acting like a miniature version of his own mom, right down to the angry reactions and shouting when things don't go his way.

Right after that, we get another short but telling line. Referring to his mother's affection, Riddle comments that he "doesn't need anything else", and decides to forgo asking for strawberry tarts ever again. He was willing to give up something he was curious about trying just to continue receiving praise. To me, this illustrates that the love of Mrs. Rosehearts was conditional: if you perform to her expectations, you get her love. If you don't perform to her expectations, well then, it's back to the books for you until you can. (Reminder: this does NOT confirm that Mrs. Rosehearts yells at Riddle or degrades him for not being “up to par”; there is just a sense of disappointment at this.) It implies that Riddle became used to a cycle of receiving the love and attention he wanted only when he behaved in a very specific way that his mother desired—otherwise, she withheld that affection. This is why Riddle believes following the rules will make him happy; it’s a result of what he has learned is the “norm” from his mother’s conditional love.

The light novel also shows us how this unhealthy mother-son relationship spills over into Riddle's other (potential) relationships. When Che'nya and Trey first approach him to invite Riddle to play with them, Riddle automatically says that he can't. He had the answer prepared for them, the response already deeply ingrained into him and likely already told to other children that tried to talk to him before. But even though Riddle rejects them, prioritizing his mother's praise over all else, he still feels a twinge of sadness about it. He even expects that he "let them down". "Let them down"? Now isn't that a funny statement. Why would Riddle be concerned about disappointing total strangers he has zero attachment to? Unless... he's so isolated that he just assumes everyone will treat him the same way his mother will. That they'll withhold love and attention if he doesn't act how they want him to. Thus, Riddle appears to associate failure to perform as resulting in rejection and lack of social acceptance.

This plays perfectly into one of the most chilling lines in Riddle's post-OB flashback: "But Mom... Why? Why does my heart hurt so much? [...] Tell me, Mom, please... What rule do I need to follow to make this pain go away?" These lines indicate Riddle finally coming to the realization that, deep down, he has always desired affection. A desire to make friends and to play with them, to have deeply intimate relationships. All he knew before was his mom was happy when he did well in his studies, so that was what he chose to excel in. Things changed when he was exposed to what unconditional love is like through Trey and Che'nya. Riddle's childhood friends are the ones who will love and accept him no matter what he's like, no matter what fuck-ups he makes or how socially awkward he is with them. He started to recognize that painful emptiness in him that never went way, no matter how many of his mom's rules he followed. Alas, Riddle was never able to come to terms with that sinking feeling because his mom had just torn him away from Trey and Che'nya not too long after learning that he had been skipping independent study time to play and eat a strawberry tart. He would not meet Trey again until enrolling at NRC, and by then, they've spent so much time apart (and, let's be real here, traumatized by Mrs. Rosehearts losing her temper over the tart incident) that her staunch mindset has clawed into Riddle's brain once more. His whole life, the main models of relationships he has to go off of are his mom and his dad, who don't appear to have a happy marriage (implied in his Suitor Suit voice lines). It's no wonder why making friends and truly opening up is difficult for him, even following the events of book 1. What else does Riddle have to reference? Crossword puzzles and textbooks? In Endless Halloween Night, the guy barely knows what a scavenger hunt is or how you'd find joy in it...

Unlike Leona, Riddle already had a pretty fleshed out backstory from his flashback. Instead of expanding on his motivations (as the light novel did with Leona), what the light novel does for Riddle is give us more information that implicates what his home life was like. It's still not that much, but it certainly better explains some of Riddle's oddly stringent viewpoints that we still see in the present day.

I know that this post was kind of a shorter read compared to the Leona one I did, but that's in part because I've already written at length about the complexities of Riddle's relationship with his mom, dad, and Trey. Those posts are bolded and linked, so if you're interested in more, then I'd recommend those readings!

[msscorpiomoon]

Tarot Birth cards

little note: I had a lot of trouble proof reading this lol so bear with me if there are spelling errors or sentences that don't make a lot of sense. And feel free to correct me. What is a Tarot Birth Card? A tarot birth card is sort of similar to your astrological sun sign, just like certain birth dates have a zodiac sign associated with them, certain birth dates have some tarot cards (the major arcana) associated with them.

Everyone has two (sometimes three) I believe that birth cards are here to help you find your inner most spiritual self. You can find your inner energy, your core, your soul's purpose, and even your talents or what your soul is here to learn.

How do I find my birth card? Your birth card is based pretty heavily on numerology (both of the cards, and the numbers of your birth date)

There are websites for finding your birth card! Like: https://tarotschool.com/Calculator.html

But, there are also more hands on ways of calculating your own birth card. Using math. (But I'm really bad at math so I'll be reaching to outer sources to explain this better) - I got these screenshots from The tarot school website linked above

For example, my birthday is May 13th, 2006. 05 + 13 + 20 + 06 = 44 4 + 4 = 8 which means my birth card is Strength. However, it's partnered card is The Star (The star is the number 17 - 1 + 7 = 8) Ikik It's confusing, but here are the birth card pairs for you, so you only have to find one, and then it's counterpart. Birth card pairs (and their numbers) (1.) The Magician/(10.)The Wheel of Fortune (1.) The Magician/(10.) The Wheel of Fortune/(19.)The Sun - You get three cards if your sum is 19 (lucky you~) (2.) The High Priestess/(11.)Justice (2.) The High Priestess/(20.)Judgement (3.) The Empress/(12.)The Hanged Man (3.) The Empress/(21.)The World (4.) The Emperor/(13.)Death (5.)The Hierophant /(14.)Temperance (6.)The Lovers/(15.)The Devil (7.)The Chariot/(16.)The Tower (8.) Strength/(17.) The Star (9.)The Hermit/(18.)The Moon - you get three cards if your sum is 19 (lucky you~) -And in case you are wondering, the fool is not a birth card even though it is a Major Arcana. Going deeper into the meanings - Each of the birth card pairs, and my takes on what they mean for you.

1 and 10 = The Magician, The Wheel of Fortune

The first things that I see between these two cards is the big contrast that they have, The Magician is a figure who represents will, infinite power, the ability to take matters into your own hands and recognizing your own power. I think of this as a good manifesting cards. All of his tools lay in front of him, the infinity symbol above his head representing power, opportunities, and ability. However, the Wheel of Fortune is all about fate, leaving things to the Universe's hands, fate.

I believe that even though these are very opposite forces, having these cards shows that you have the ability (or will be able to catch onto it very quickly) to work with the universe to bring any of your ideas to life. Great manifesting cards, great cards for a leader, an idealist, etc. You might like to change and bounce between all kinds of interests and subjects, a jack of all trades. You excel in things easily, so you'll find success in finding those few things that really spark your interest and following through with it until the end.

I see the Magician card as an Alchemist, lead into gold, as well as his hand placements representing "As Above So Below" .. with this Alchemist mentality you are probably an extremely resourceful and adaptable person. A good talent that not a lot of people have, you can make use of any situation you are put in. Thinking simply (Starting from The Magician) allows you to turn the wheels of the world itself (The Wheel of Fortune).. Hopefully I'm making some sense.

Words of advice: stay focused on your goals and keep an open mind, yet stay fixed on your goals, and always complete what you finish. Set goals and stick to them, it'll bring you good success.

A weakness or downside of people with these cards (both with or without the sun) is that you may get side tracked a lot. There's a lot you want to be good at or you might get into one thing, and then something else catches your interest and now you're deeply involved with that. Don't let that curiosity consume you too much, and be sure to get yourself focused every once in a while.

19 = The Magician, The Wheel of Fortune, The Sun

This doesn't alter a lot of the meaning from the last section, so if your number is 19, I do suggest reading the section above this one as well! This is simply adding The Sun card onto The Magician and The Wheel of Fortune. This brings much more of a carefree, fun energy to things. You have a great lust for life and always seem to shine light onto every situation. The Magician and the Wheel of Fortune cards often bring a lot of drastic change and experiences to people with this energy, yet The Sun energy gives you the ability to see the light in spite of everything that is happening around you. The Sun, as a representation of light, optimism and joy. When night falls, you know deep down that the sun isn't gone, you always know that it comes right back.

Not only do you bring light in your own life, but others see it as well. And you will achieve the most when you keep this childlike imagination and optimistic side of you.

2 and 11 = The High Priestess, Justice

Starting with the imagery, their thrones, crowns, and seated position show that they are figures of high power, good judgement, and they are very straightforward. I like to think of the planet mercury, these people are likely great at communicating. Wise, logical, and analytical. But, there is also this duality between the two figures as well. Unlike the previous cards and their duality, the differences between these cards show incredible balance. Starting with the energies, The Justice card shows more masculine energy, with the colors, the person, but also the sword in his hand. The element of air and fire. The colors of red and yellow bring the sun's masculine energy into play. A figure that does. Meanwhile, The High Priestess is a feminine figure, with more blue colors, the green in the background, colder colors. Along with the moon symbol at her feet. A figure that feels. Although there isn't any huge indication of elements, her dress starts to pool at the end like water. Showing her being more in tune with her emotions, she is wise because she knows her inner self. (Along with the fruit or plant or vegetation that is behind her representing the element of Earth) She is her emotions. But she doesn't get lost in them, she is just in tune with them. The two of these cards coming together to represent one person shows a great balance. Here are some other dualities.

Doing vs Thinking/Feeling Harsh vs Gentle Loud vs Silent

If you have these as your cards you may be all about fairness, equality, and seeing things for as they are. You may be one to play devil's advocate often in order to see all perspectives of a situation, and you likely aren't one to come to assumptions quickly. You also might be really intuitive to truth, like being a lie detector lol. You can see through people well, and this could be why you are so big on equality, you simply see people as people and nothing more. We are all human and deserve to be on the same level. In that case, you might not be big on authority that likes playing with their power. Although these cards balance each other greatly, it might take a little bit for you to be balanced yourself. But you will find or do find great success once you find that balance between the two and learn to embody these figures at once. 2 and 20 = The High Priestess, Judgement

The people with these birth cards I feel like have an incredibly high emotional intelligence. Although the angel (I believe it's archangel Gabriel?) in the Judgement card is a representation of the element of fire, the water in the background and the blues all around, I see both of these cards as incredibly intuitive and emotional. People with these cards are meant for great things and will probably often tell themselves things along the lines of "I'm meant for more." You will likely find the most success through following whatever your heart tells you to. I think a big lesson for you in this life will be about finding your own path, beliefs, and making your own judgements on things around you. Although it can be difficult not to, other's beliefs and the beliefs you were raised on will result in you ultimately settling for way less than what you are meant for. I'm not really talking religious beliefs, but beliefs about jobs, money, life, all that in general. Follow the path you build for yourself. At some point (or multiple points) in your life, you will have to unlearn either what you have been taught or what you have taught yourself. It'll take work but you will need to break out of any limiting beliefs that you have in order to take on something bigger in life. Don't let anybody keep you confined in a box, not even yourself! Not only do you need to wake yourself up and lift yourself up, but I also believe you are meant to lift up others around you as well. With the High Priestess you may have this keen ability to see right through people, you may feel like you just know somebody deep down, the Judgement card is a call to an awakening, or reflection. It's knowing your purpose, I think you are also meant to bring awakenings to other people. Just as much as you break yourself out of limiting beliefs and lift yourself up, try to help others as well. Your downfall will be not listening to your intuition, I believe people with these cards have amazing spiritual gifts, trust your gut and trust your Judgement.

3 and 12 = The Empress, The Hanged Man

Both of these cards bring a very calm, collected, and nurturing tone to it. Both to me give Earth element vibes meaning people with this card combination are often very grounded and down to Earth. Although The Hanged Man's element is water, the tree provides some groundedness to it. The Empress is a natural creator, think mother nature. She is nurturing, and puts careful work into the world around her that she makes. She represents care, nurturing, divine femininity, fertility, creativity/creating, and nature. The Hanged Man is a character that's seen hanging upside down on a tree, with the calm look on his face, and his hands behind his back, a lot of people believe that he's there on his own will. The Hanged Man represents a stagnancy, a period in which you are simply observing, not moving forward. He also is a big representation on how spiritual people see the world differently, because he is perceiving things upside down. With the combination of these two cards together, people with these cards are extremely creative and natural inventors. They're talented at seeing the world in a completely different way and it allows them opportunities to create beautiful, out of the box things. These people are incredibly unique and success comes when they learn to embrace it, and be open about their outlook on the world. There are going to be times in your life where life will feel unbearably stagnant, not really moving forwards or backwards and it's because you are meant to reflect in those moments. These are the best opportunities for you to simply sit and think, and although you might not like doing that often, you will find the most success from the ideas that show up in your head. Don't force stagnant periods, but when they come to you, they are present for a reason. I also feel like people with these cards are really good with finding solutions and being adaptable to situations (when they aren't anxiously overthinking) 3 and 21 = The Empress, The World

People with these cards I call "doers" these people have big goals that often have to do with humanities or environmental causes. The Empress is a natural creator, to me she represents Mother Nature, being it paired with The World Card, not only physically the world but also spiritually and metaphorically. You are a big thinker and often people with these cards accomplish a lot. Bring your ideas to life, it should come to you with ease. Do not repress your dreams, because they come to you for a reason. You are meant to attract great abundance in this lifetime! You are a nurturer, you will thrive being connected to the world and the people around you. Think of like "As Above So Below" or "You are a manifestation of the absolute." You resonate strongly with the idea that everything is connected and your ideals show it. These cards are also an indication of having a really big family or just being close with a lot of people. You may travel a lot in this lifetime, see a lot of cultures and see the world. I feel like people with these cards are often pretty balanced as a person, they're well rounded and often.. complete. Prioritize your nurturing, feminine side in this life time! Create things, connect with Mother Nature, and remember you are divine. 4 and 13 = The Emperor, Death

Both of these cards combined give me very heavy warrior vibes, they are forces to be reckoned with and they bring about change wherever they go. I find that people with these birth cards tend to be brutally honest and may come across as harsh because they are very straight to the point. I will say, The Emperor represents authority, structure, discipline, and masculine energy. The Death card represents change, transformation, and cycles. So, no need to worry about the death card if you were worrying about it. These cards hold very masculine energy, having masculine energy means you do a lot, you conquer a lot and you may be incredibly ambitious. The difference between the feminine and masculine energy is that the feminine energy creates, but masculine energy utilizes what has been created. So, they balance each other out. I feel like you will (or already have) overcome a lot in your life, you are a conqueror and are here to withstand a lot of changes in your life but also bring a lot of changes to other people as well. I feel like your resilience and strength brings inspiration to others. With the obstacles you overcome in life you will end up wise, likely with a lot of good advice for others. I do see that possibly in the beginning of your life time you being on the fence between being very resistant to (or even afraid of) change. The soldier on the horse in the death card is constantly moving, changing everything he passes by, however The Emperor is forever stationary. The Emperor follows structure and leads armies, however the soldier acts on whim. And paying closer attention to the art work, the soldier on the horse (or the reaper) has conquered or defeated an authority figure, the king underneath him. So, there is a big contrast here. However, if you find the balance between not resisting change but also not embracing or initiating chaos, you'll be good. Remember to not fear change, in the back of the death card you see the sun on the horizon, which is a representation and a reminder that good things come from transformation. Or through the death of one thing, there is the birth of another. You will likely be constantly changing and evolving, you will achieve a lot in this life! You are not meant to stay stagnant for long. 5 and 14 = The Hierophant, Temperance

These cards unite representing passion for the things they love, faith, and ambition. I see these cards as people who always try to do what is right in their eyes, and people who always try to put everything they can into something. The Hierophant is a teacher, earth/taurus energy, it represents tradition(generally religious/spiritual tradition but can represent it as a whole), education, beliefs, and groups. Temperance is a warrior, thing warriors like archangels. Temperance represents true balance, this card to me represents all the elements. His wings and the triangle on his chest are representations of air, the cups he is pouring from and the pool of water he is stepping into is water, his foot on the ground and the mountains being earth, and the sun and his halo representing fire. He is a representation of true balance. At their highest selves, people with these cards are incredibly charismatic, ambitious, inspired, and focused. Who speak, act, think, and trust from their highest self. Their highest truth and intuition. These people go through plenty of life lessons and are often found thriving in situations where they can freely be leaders. People with these cards are often very naturally curious and want to learn and study a lot. In all aspects, people, subjects, situations, etc. If you happen to have a role model, anyone you really look up to and gather inspiration from.. know that some of your greatest success will come from listening to their word, and learning from them! You're going to learn a lot in your life and I think that will lead you to being able to be a great mentor figure, and be able to give great advice. 6 and 15 = The Lovers, The Devil

Oh I love this card combination because of the EXTREMELY obvious duality between these cards. The two figures here are the same people, but on one end there is the peace, balance, and well.. love. And on the other hand there is being bound by chains, addiction, obsession. Although these are the exact same people, the exact same energy, there are two very extreme sides to it. A lot of your life and your life/spiritual lessons will have to do with relationships. Although most of the people I know with these cards do revolve a lot around romantic relationships, this is talking about any relationship. With friends, family, partners, coworkers, etc. Relationships in general. Often, you'll have to learn how to get out of toxic situations, or possibly how to not be a toxic situation yourself. There's that pull between desire/lust and love. The Devil is a very indulgent symbol, you'll likely struggle with self control. Naturally, you are pulled to others, you're more likely to be an extrovert or a people person when it comes to these having cards, I also find that people with these cards loveee to help others out. They love to lend a hand and often they will bend over backwards for others. And remember to be cautious about who you help, people will try to push your limits on what you have to offer. (Another lesson you have to learn, living for yourself and not for others.) People with these cards are incredibly curious. They love doing things for the experience, or just because they love to know how things will turn out. Be careful to not lose yourself in others, because people with these cards are often so involved with others it is very easy for you guys to lose sight of who you truly are. You'll be at your best when you find your authenticity and balance it with people who love you for you, not people who love you for who you actually aren't. Do not confine yourself into other people's boxes and stereotypes that they have for you. Don't let others put those chains on you, you are not meant to follow other people's standards and other people's beliefs. 7 and 16= The Chariot, The Tower

The Chariot is an adventurer, a warrior, and represents adventures and journeys. And let me tell you your life is a journey for sure. You might be naturally curious, you want to see the world and you want to enjoy a lot in life, despite your want to be adventurous, and your need for new experiences, you are trapped inside your tower, or your box. You are confined by your own fears and that will be your greatest failure. I think your biggest goal in life or your life lesson is learning to overcome your personal challenges and mental blockages. I see you going through a lot of tough things early on which might be the start of why you've decided to confine yourself and not allow yourself the adventure you so desire. Get out of your comfort zone!!! You are meant to be an explorer, a free spirit, and your inner desires might contradict the fears that you have! I would consider you guys overcomers, break down your limitations, destroy the tower you confined yourself in, in order to start new. I feel like as rough as it sounds, you guys are constantly meant to be moving forward. Constantly destroying your "tower" and rebuilding with new foundations. You guys are meant to live for the adventure and for the advancement. There might be a divide within you between loving your comfort zone and feeling the need to reach out for more. The Chariot's sphinxes before it represent two paths, balance, or duality. You'll find a lot of success when you reach further than you thought you could. Although it's important to have a foundation and have time to relax and just exist, these cards suggest it is a big part of your life's lessons to be here to move forward and continue to expand. :) 8 and 17 = Strength, The Star

A true empowerer. People with these cards are natural dreamers and love to uplift others. The two of these cards both are very closely connected with nature, (people with these birth cards will thrive in nature and with nature. It is also good to be as true to yourself as possible.) The Star represents the cool, collected, and calmness of nature, notice the flowing water, the calmness and the focused look ont he girls face. Things look calm, and serene. Strength leans towards the more powerful, to be reckoned with forces of nature, the girl is taming a lion in front of her, whether it's prying the lion's mouth open, or keeping it shut/closing it. The infinity symbol above her head represents endless possibilities and the ability to do and achieve anything. Seriously, dream big because when you master your emotions you can accomplish absolutely anything. I feel like both the water in the Star and the lion in Strength represent your emotions. Both of the figures here have tamed/controlled them, and so can you! You'll find the most success in life when you learn to balance the polar opposites within you, and you overcome your internal obstacles. The balance between mercy and vengeance, patience and temper, calmness and vitality. When you become truly balanced, your energy shows it. You are known as soon as you walk into a room, your energy is.. well, strong. And I also see people with these cards being incredible leaders, mentor figures, and people who are great at healing and empowering people's inner selves. These people make amazing guides and people may often come to your for advice, guidance, and wisdom. You're great at making people feel seen and you give other's the strength to get through life. Although you're great at helping others, take your own advice too! I feel like people with these cards are meant to grow and go through hard things in life, not only to uplift others but to also uplift themselves. Do not forget about yourself, you can bring the very best or you can bring the very worst in everything. You are a true conqueror with great strength and willpower, so be mindful of where your energy flows and water your own garden before watering anybody else's. 9 and 19 = The Hermit, The Moon

I see people with these cards as incredibly independent and very curious. These people are meant to explore their inner selves the most. While the strength and the star from the previous explanation are huge on thriving around others and helping others, these cards are here to help themselves. You are meant to develop a great, deep understanding for yourself. You may get interested in astrology and natal charts, or possibly psychology and understanding your subconscious. You may naturally reflect and question yourself a lot. I can see people with these cards always asking for an explanation on why they did something a certain way. You thrive a lot on your own, and this doesn't mean you will be alone in life or you aren't meant to be with others, but you should feel very at peace when you're alone and your soul's journey is internal. Both of these cards represent discovering the hidden, although the moon shows something a little more illuminated, there is a direction to go, a path to be travelled. The Hermit however, there is no path necessarily, you are travelling uncharted waters and you're completely in the dark with where you are going.. besides the little light you carry. Or the light within you. Regarding others, you are also probably very observant with others and you may be able to read other's energies or thoughts relatively easily. You find that there are two sides to everyone, a tame, lit path and then one that is inner, primal, instinctual, and extremely hidden. That hidden side may ignite your curiosity.. explore it! You are meant to discover what is hidden and internal reflection is where you will most likely thrive. You are curious beyond the face value and you can do this with yourself internally, but also with others as well!

[tarysande]

i saw a post that you reblogged with a comment wherein you referenced working as an editor. i'm a college student looking to go into fiction editing, and i was wondering if you had any tips or suggestions?

I've written a few different posts about this in my "on editing" tag, but most of them are a bit old.

My path to editing wasn't a straight line. I have a BFA in theatre, film, and creative writing, and I took a lot of English courses. I've always been a voracious reader. I've been a writer since before I can remember. I basically started editing when friends came to me and said, "You're good at words. Can you help me with my words?"

I was also lucky enough to fall in with a group of excellent writers/betas/critiquers/editors when I was fandom baby back in ye olde X-Files days. I learned SO much from them. And most of what I learned, I learned either from being critiqued or from critiquing others. I cannot stress how much being an active member of fandom has helped me become the editor I am today.

Suggestions:

Get editing-specific training. You don't know what you don't know--and there's a surprising amount of stuff people don't know, even if they've studied English or writing. There are quite a few certificate programs out there now, but you don't need one of them to get work. You do need to prove that you know what you're doing, though. Usually by being able to pass editing tests or by providing excellent sample edits.

Read, read, read, READ. If you know you want to work with specific genres, read as much from within that genre as you can. Read books on craft, too, whether they're intended for writers or editors.

Find your people. There are some great Facebook groups for editors. There are also major editing associations where you can meet people, network, find possible job leads, etc. I, for example, am a member of Editors Canada and a Professional Member of the CIEP (UK). ACES and the EFA are a couple of major American associations. Australia's is the IPEd. You don't have to be from those countries to join their associations--but you'll probably find that the local ones have the most relevant content.

You DO need to find ways to hone your skills. If you don't want to do a whole editing certificate, you'll want to find courses or professional development related to the work you want to do.

Fiction editing (all editing, really) breaks down into different types of editing. You might like doing all aspects of this. You might find you only like SOME aspects of this. Generally, those types of editing are:

Developmental (sometimes called structural or substantive) editing: This is big picture editing. Are there plot holes? Do the character arcs make sense? Do scenes have a purpose? (Personally, this is my favorite type of editing. I just love getting into the guts of a story.) I do full developmental edits, but I also offer manuscript critiques (developmental editing lite; usually cheaper, but still very helpful for getting to the bottom of big picture issues).

Line/stylistic editing: This type of editing is often about the style and language at the sentence and paragraph level. It tends to be quite meaty. A line editor will offer suggestions for reducing redundancy or repetition, clarifying meaning, polishing dialogue, etc.

Copy editing: Sometimes copy editing and line editing get rolled up together, but if someone hires you JUST to copy edit, it means you're looking at the mechanical issues with grammar, punctuation, etc.

Proofreading: Literally reading the proofs before they go to print. The proofreader's eyes are the last ones on the document. These are the folks looking for the misplaced comma or the wrong page number. Have a crazy eye for detail? This may be your jam.

The various Englishes of the world have major differences. If you want to edit US, UK, Canadian, or other assorted varietals of the language, you have to know those differences--and they're more than just spelling and punctuation.

There's no one style guide for fiction. Publishers often have their own. That said, most of THOSE are based either on the Chicago Manual of Style (US/Canada) or the New Oxford Style Manual/New Hart's Rules (UK).

You also have to figure out if you want to pursue an in-house position or work freelance. Real talk: publishers outsource a ton of copy editing and proofreading to freelancers; some publishers even outsource the other styles of editing. Often, acquisitions editors at publishing houses (the editors who champion a work and try to get their publisher to buy it) do some of the developmental and line editing work.

I don't work in-house, so I can't give you a ton of info on how to break into the side of things. As I understand it, you usually have to be located in one of the big publishing centers (New York, London, Toronto, etc.). And you usually work your way in from the bottom up.

I've done all kinds of editing over the years. Nowadays, I mostly work in fiction, and I mostly work with independent authors or authors who are trying to polish their work before sending it out to agents. While it's true that a publishing house will edit your book (and foot the bill for it), the market is hard right now--especially for first-time authors. Publishers are less willing to take big risks or pour a lot of money into books if they're uncertain of a return on that investment. So, even if you're hoping to go the route of traditional publishing, it's in your best interests to get that first manuscript in the best shape before sending it out.

...this is already getting long! One of these days, I'm going to offer some training of my own, I think. Hopefully!

[killuwumi]

I love your other works! Would you possibly write something for Higuchi and fem bodied reader? She doesn't get enough love and she's one of my favs </3

I got this request who knows how long ago but I only just saw it, I want to give this some love fr, anonnie is so right.

Warnings: sfw (might do a nsfw part two), fem bodied reader, mentions of body parts (thighs, collar bone, 'chest'), not proof read

Higuchi X Fem!Bodied Reader Headcanons

She definitely thought she would never get over her crush on Akutagawa, but when you joined the Port Mafia (or came into her life) she was stunned, and confused at what she was feeling.

Higuchi is a smart woman but sometimes, a little advice never hurt, so when she asked Gin what these feelings meant, she realized she feels more than just a platonic love for you.

Maybe looking at your body longingly and admiring the way all the clothes you wear fit you, should've been a good first sign!

She'd start testing the waters whenever you guys would hang out, going out to lunch, taking walks in the park together, even sleeping over at each other's houses when it was too late to want to drive home. And after finally confirming that there was a chance you felt the same way, she would swoop in.

She never wanted to make you uncomfortable, so before asking you to date her, she wanted to make it very clear that it was a date in a romantic sense. She put her phone down after asking you and freaked out in her car waiting for it to buzz with your response.

Imagine her excitement when you said that you would love to go out with her on a date. And it was history from there honestly, despite being a little awkward, you two were friends before this so it was never too long of a silence between topics.

As you both got more comfortable, there was a lot more physical affection, especially because she just loved you, and your appearance. She would always place gentle kisses on your face, neck, collarbone.

Her favorite spots were as follows; collarbone, thighs, hands, and stomach, then chest.

I personally think she takes up a very chivalrous roll in the relationship, she wants to drive you places, pay for the food, carry bags while you both shop, and she loves having her hand on your thigh or holding yours while she drives if you'll let her.

Higuchi is easily the best person to shop with, not only can you get a good honest opinion, but she also understands how important it is to enjoy the process. She'll try on matching outfits with you if you wish, she'll shop with you and sit in the waiting area as you try things on. It's all an amazing time for her.

Higuchi is BIG, HUGE on complimenting you on any insecurity you tell her about, ANY insecurity. She loves you just the way you are, personality, body and all. If you're looking for logical advice on improving something, she is also there for you.

Some extra bits I think are fun to add here is that she definitely has her own ringtone for you, probably a song you showed her, or one she associates with you so that she can tell work calls from your more important calls. She also has a keychain of you both on her car keys, she keeps it sticking slightly out of her pocket when she goes to put them away too, just so people can see.

When people at work as about you, or ask her why she's in such a good mood, Higuchi does not hesitate to spill the beans about her wonderful partner, she will talk forever if you don't stop her. (good luck trying). So everyone in the port mafia knows who you are when you visit for lunch, or to spend time with her in the office, you do get a special pass being her significant other after all.

At the end of the day, she loves you with all her heart, and she's so glad for once her insecurities didn't stop her from pursuing something. She works hard to be a little safer at work now that she has someone to look forward to seeing once she's done.

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

I posted 2,647 times in 2022

That's 574 more posts than 2021!

165 posts created (6%)

2,482 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mari-wrongway

@mykingdomforasong

@thatgeeklover

@wondersmith-and-sons

@ace-din-djarin

I tagged 1,461 of my posts in 2022

Only 45% of my posts had no tags

#art - 192 posts

#our flag means death - 113 posts

#shirozora awkwardly responds to asks - 113 posts

#ofmd - 109 posts

#star wars - 106 posts

#dinluke - 93 posts

#the mandalorian - 58 posts

#shirozora draws - 43 posts

#skydalorian - 40 posts

#what are cats - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#if only i could get off my ass to finish my 2010 deancas big bang fic where dean and cas only kissed once and it was maybe around the 180k

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So.

Due to Adventures in Adulting like "we need to remodel these bathrooms so we don't die of black mold", I'm resurrecting my "sell some of my arts as limited prints" plot and investigating local printing services (and crying over costs/the cringe of strangers looking at my art). I'll probably go the "gauge interest and make an Etsy for preorders" route after I get some proofs printed to test everything.

89 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#4

hey there! hope i'm not catching you at a bad time. i was wondering about your latest post on your concerns with the dinluke fandom. i'm really sorry about that. i'm not as active on socmed as i used to be so i might have missed on how the fandom is slowly, urm, going up into flames(?) but if you don't mind, what are your major concerns that's making you question your association? i love your dinluke stuff sm and i'd hate to lose someone like you :(

Hi there!

For a long while now, a certain "genre" of dinluke content has been dominating the Tumblr and AO3 tags and - more importantly - the general impression of the ship itself, which is dark!dinluke. Unfortunately, dark!dinluke is usually not about "dark" themes but about a racist, fetishizing, gendered relationship/dynamic between Din and Luke where Din is hypersexualized, aggressive, and possessive and Luke is a virginal effeminate twink with tradwife traits. You'll note that Din is the darker-skinned character and Luke is lily white in this particular dynamic (Bobadin has a similar problem where the darker-skinned Boba is the aggressive/possessive one while the lighter-skinned Din is the delicate flower). That's an extreme generalization of the general trend of assigning incredibly uncomfortable characteristics to characters who don't have them.

Fandom tends to vibe by the "live and let live" philosophy, and that's okay IF everyone follows general "guidelines" for fandoming, like proper tagging so that people who don't want to see that content for ANY REASON don't have to see it. A lot of these content creators have been terrible at tagging (or don't tag at all) using inappropriate or targetted tags that only make sense to people who are already in the know. If you had never seen Arrested Development before and don't know the context of the tag "dead dove do not eat" how do you know it's supposed to warn you for dark content? How do you know "cinnamon role Luke Skywalker" isn't always about a sweet soft Luke or that "protective Din Djarin" is actually about an aggressively possessive Din? Gotcha phrases like "don't like, don't read" can't work if people don't know what they're supposed to be blacklisting before they click the ship tag. So, you have posts that no one can block until it's too late dominating the ship tags, which makes for an incredibly uncomfortable experience.

But it's not just the tagging fiasco, it's also the idea that dark!dinluke creators were allowed to exist and dominate fandom conversations in the first place. It's why I said we should've been louder and meaner sooner. There is no point in living by the "live and let live" fandom philosophy if your idea of inclusivity includes allowing people to create harmful toxic tropes and trends unbothered and unscathed. This is really part of the larger conversation around POCs in fandom spaces; we have to contend with a lot of shit that makes us uncomfortable and a lot of times we are in spaces dominated by white/white-adjacent fans who don't want anyone harshing their good time or making them look bad.

I have not forgotten the utter shitshow around finnpoe (and Finn/John Boyega in general) where the concerns of Black and Latine fans were ignored in favor of protecting white feelings. I follow people on Tumblr and Twitter who discuss racism in fandom and are also harassed constantly by fans who don't want to hear the truth. It's not comfortable and you must always be aware of when it's time to speak up and when to amplify other voices, but if you want your fandom spaces to be inclusive and more safe, you have to be willing to listen and put yourself out there. I didn't because I get anxious about interacting in larger communal spaces but I always wondered if I could've helped if I did speak up about the troubling tropes and trends that dinluke fandom was heading towards. I'm just one person but it still has to mean something even if the larger fandom still chooses to ignore you.

Someone added their own thoughts to my post about fandom ignoring Latine fans expressing their concerns about Din and Pedro's other characters and I remember seeing those conversations in the old dinluke server. I tell myself I was at work at the time and that's why I didn't comment when people started nitpicking or just generally ignored the criticisms, but I wish I could've done more. So instead, here I am posting to the tumblr tag.

I'm not leaving the dinluke fandom anytime soon. I have a story to tell that I want to see to its conclusion. The day after making that post, I was doodling some thoughts about Luke (mainly his clothes, but also I should be writing instead of doodling????? get your act together, shiro). I'm in a good space where I'm still comfortable enough and I won't be chased off by the people I share space with, but it hurts knowing that they're there and they contributed a lot to the current state of dinluke. I've been in enough fandoms that crashed and burned over this sort of shit so I know when it's time to pack up my bags and leave but hopefully I'll get all my stories out before that day comes.

111 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

#3

The "I Can 'Pin' Posts on Tumblr Now? Since When?" Intro/Masterpost

Greetings and welcome to the "Who The Fuck Am I?" post written by yours truly, whoever the fuck I am. Now that I'm back on my Fandom bullshit again in at least 2 blogs, I thought I'd re-introduce myself.

I am 2nd gen Korean-American on the Best West Coast. I ID as she/they/shiro, and ace/demi. I'm in the millennial bracket (aka, I am a Legal Adult) so be mindful when interacting with me. I do what I can to be antiracist and am always learning to be better.

I am some iteration of "shirozora" on: LiveJournal, Dreamwidth, AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Discord. My first Fandom 2.0 was political/pundit RPF and my first fandom fallout was Racefail '09, so you could say I've Seen Some Shit. Been 5+ years since I last engaged in actual Fandom, yet here the fuck I am.

Fandoms I have written/drawn for (FFN years do not count, I purged that account): political/pundit RPF, Supernatural, Tron: Legacy, MCU, Star Trek (AOS), Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Final Fantasy XIV, Star Wars/The Mandalorian

A Short List Of Things I Wrote in No Particular Order:

Lost Symphony (T): SPN; Dean/Cassie, Sam/Jessica, pre-Dean/Castiel; for the Racebending Revenge challenge - "Mary Ahn Winchester died on the ceiling of the nursery on November 2, 1983."

We Are Pilots (T+): Tron: Legacy; Sam/Tron; for the Tron Kink Meme - "Six months and Sam still can't shake off his father's ghost, so Quorra suggests returning to the Grid to find the answers he needs to move on."

Wishing Well (T): Captain America: The First Avenger; Steve/Howard, Steve/Peggy, unfulfilled Howard/Peggy/Steve; for the Cap Kink Meme - "And you just wanna feel like a coin that's been tossed / In a wishing well, a wishing well."

A Thousand Eyes Staring Back (T+): Mass Effect 2; Kaiden/m!Shep - "His problems start at Horizon, aka that time Kaidan Alenko was having a really bad day and his former CO was supposed to be dead."

Waking Ghosts (T+): Dragon Age; Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan Inquisitor; the Mummy (1999) AU nobody asked for - "Dorian Pavus, formerly of Qarinus, is an archivist at the Magisterium research outpost in Hightown."

Seasons Change (T): Black Panther/MCU; M'Baku/T'Challa - "A fisherman finds a dying king in his nets and Hanuman offers M'Baku an opportunity to repay T'Challa for sparing his life at Warrior Falls."

born in a thunderstorm (T+): Star Trek: AOS, Captain Marvel, Thor: Ragnarok, Guardians of the Galaxy; Kirk/McCoy; the worst AU I ever wrote - "Kevin Riley insists that James Kirk didn't die on Tarsus IV. Nobody believes him."

Dangerous Dreams series (T) - The Storm; The Suns; Between Planets: Star Wars/The Mandalorian; Din/Luke; the reason why I'm writing this post - "To want something for yourself, that is a dangerous dream."

I cross-post and occasionally write about writing at @shirozora-writes. But I bet a bunch of y'all stumbled into my little sandbox through @shirozora-draws, so let's talk about that!

I suffered from artist's block for almost 4 years. That ended when I became utterly fixated on "So Grogu has two dads now - oh no." I fucking ragequit Star Wars after the fucking world lied to me about The Last Jedi* and now I'm doing the most insane and involved fanworks because of Star Wars. The fuck???

To end this unapologetically long-ass Intro Post, here are my 3 favorite recent doodles:

The original post is here. First time animating with Clip Studio Paint and I had a two-day meltdown over it.

See the full post

141 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#2

Where the hell do you get off assuming a man's race in order to propagate your "racism" agenda? Do you even know what it means to be white Latino?

No. You don't. You're Korean American.

So, have you ever considered that maybe, by making assumptions and incorrectly representing Pedro Pascal's race, you're the racist asshole?

I'm guessing not because that would require an ounce of humility and self reflection.

Grow the fuck up and shut up about issues you don't understand.

My dear sweet summer child, where exactly have I assumed anything? Is Pedro white Latine or no? I’ve only referred to him as others, including Pedro himself, has called him. 

Do I have to be a white Latine to talk about these things? Am I only allowed to talk about Korean American issues? Must I keep my mouth shut if I see racist depictions of characters who aren’t Korean American? Is it okay to talk about East Asian Americans or does it have to be only Korean American?

Latine fans have been calling out dinluke fandom’s racist depictions of Din Djarin for months. What exactly am I assuming here? 

Listen, I am happy to take a backseat and amplify other voices that do know more than I do. What I’m not going to do is pretend this is not my problem because I’m Korean American. Racial politics in America are hell on earth and solidarity is how you push back.

155 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

it is my strongly held belief that we could’ve slowed the hemorrhaging of people from the dinluke sandbox if we’d gotten louder and meaner at the grosser and more toxic corners much sooner.  the “live and let live” philosophy (don’t like, don’t read; ymmv; ykinmk) doesn’t work if it allows racist tropes, harmful fetishism, gendered stereotypes, and other toxic trends to flourish and define the sandbox. the inability to exercise basic courtesy and tact especially in more public and easily accessible fandom spaces has done so much seemingly irreversible damage to a ship I love, and it really does make me question my continued association with it. 

199 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lit-works]

Guilt By Association

I take off my ruby-lensed sunglasses and rub my eyes. It's funny how something i can't use anymore can make me tired. Almost pained. It feels so good to rest my head in my hands, and rub away the fatigue.

My office door bursts open, and i can feel the heat of a man's anger before he says a word. "Mister Murdock, this is a subpoena and injunction. A show-cause order. You'll have to explain why this drop-in center shouldn't be shut down for giving legal advice unlawfully."

That's a laugh. Every day people struggle to work up enough nerve to come in with their stories of high rent, filthy apartments, no hot water, and kids in trouble with the law, and I'm their only friend in a system that seems to profit off their suffering.

My hand closes around the subpoena paper. Ever since i was disbarred, the legal community has pursued me.

I can hear Karen at the door. I Can smell her perfume, and sense her confusion. "I tried to tell him you were busy, Matt." she says.

"No need to apologize, Miss Page. I would have served Mister Murdock sooner or later." the man pauses. He's grinning, as i crumple the subpoena in my fist. "If you have Miss Page read the subpoena for you, Mister Murdock, you'll see it's for next Monday. Until then--" he turns and pushes past Karen.

"I'm sorry," Karen says quietly, "he just--"

"It's okay. It's just not the best way to end the day."

"There's actually one more person to see you--a Miss Whitby from Staten island." I sigh, eager to get back to my apartment, change into costume, and start my patrol.

"Send her in."

A woman enters the room quickly. She's old, but powerful. Her voice cuts through the hot, afternoon air. "Mister Murdock, I've come to you because, well, I've read of your work with the homeless, and drug addicts, and all. Well, I'm afraid I've got a legal problem too."

"Have a seat and tell me about it."

"There's an abandoned factory, right near the Elmwood Nature Preserve on Staten island. They tore most of the factory down, but then trucks were pulling in there all of a sudden at all hours, day and night. It was about three weeks ago when i noticed the first dead animals."

"Animals?"

"Yes," she says bitterly. "Birds, fish, and even a raccoon. My husband and I are ornithologists. We started finding a lot of dead birds- -Vircos, Swills, even an Egret. All lying on the ground as if something just knocked them out if the sky."

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

The woman leans close to my desk, "They're dumping something at the old factory. Something that's killing the birds somehow, but we haven't been able to get any proof, any evidence to take to the authorities." she pauses, and i can sense that, look at me now, a blind lawyer--not even a lawyer anymore--her confidence in me isn't very high. "We were hoping that maybe...we thought you might help."

"I don't know," i say. "It's a bit different than what i normally--"

I hear Karen listening at the door again, judging me.

This woman is no shrinking violet, and i doubt very much that she's given to wild imaginings.

It is possible that someone is using the factory as a quick dump-site. A good chunk of the land would be poisoned if something toxic were leaching down into the water table beneath the nature preserve. Also, looking into this would keep my mind off the subpoena on my desk. "I'll do what i can. At least we can find where these trucks are coming from, and if there's anything harmful in them."

She leans across the desk and closes her hand around mine. "Oh, thank you, Mister Murdock. You're the first person who's cared enough to even try to help."

I smile, tired but eager to be out of here, prowling West Broadway, where problems have simpler, more direct solutions.

Ms. Whitby leaves, guided out the front door by Karen, who returns with a satisfied smile on her face. "That was noble of you."

"Let's go," i say. "If there's no one else waiting."

"There's no one--"

I walk past her, and i know she senses my eagerness. I walk ahead, hearing the front door bolt click into place behind me. The street outside fills my enhanced senses with a wild, swirling collage of impressions, smells almost overpowering in their intensity.

I sense despair in the shuffling bodies, and hunger. But there's also laughter and joy. The city teams with life, and legal or not, i know that my work here is more than important. It's essential.

"Matt...wait." karen takes my arm and holds me tight, denying the distance that both of us have felt lately. When I'm in costume, standing before her ready to patrol the city streets, she almost turns away.

"I'm glad you're helping that woman." she says. I nod.

"Are you...working tonight?" i smile. Such a strange expression for the work I'm doing.

"Yes. The neighborhood has been a bit active lately. I think everybody's hoping I'll take a vacation."

"So do I." Karen says flatly.

I put my arms around her. "Maybe next year." i say, laughing.

The subway ride uptown is its usual cacophonous assault on my senses. The screeching roar of the train. The press of the bodies. But I'm already preparing for night to come.

My apartment is just off Broadway, and as I climb out of the subway, i sense the sun about to sink below the palisades. I hurry up the stairs and Karen follows. I take the steps two and three at a time, open the apartment door and run to my closet.

"Don't let me hold you back." Karen says.

"Sorry," i say pulling off my suit, and taking out my costume. "I guess I'm feeling a bit itchy tonight." i pull on my skin-tight crimson armored outfit, smoothing it out against my well-conditioned muscles, i pull on the horned mask, and grab my club.

I then leap to the bar that dangles from my loft-like ceiling. I swing back and forth, loosening up the muscles, kicking my legs out, and swing around the bar. I let go and spin in the air before landing perfectly on my feet, barely realizing i hold my billy club out in front of me.

"It's a part of you, isn't it? The Devil." Karen says drily. I lower the club and attach it to the side of my costume.

"Perhaps...perhaps it is." i reply. Then i turn and run for the back window of my loft.

-

It’s almost night now, the sky is dark, almost purplish blue. I lope along the rooftops, taking care to keep out sight of anyone catching a faint breeze off the Hudson. Once i pass a small boy, sucking on a turquoise- colored ice pop, that gives his lips and tongue an alien color.

“Hi, Daredevil.”

“Hi, kid.” I say. At least he’s not scared of me.

-

It grows darker, but the city’s heat lingers as i leap from building to building.

Even as i leap down from the rooftop, using the fire escape to swing down to the courtyard, i can sense where they all are…who they are.

There are three heavy-duty torpedoes, real thugs. They’re working over some young guy, their shark-skin suits rustling as they punch him. Nice odds, nice bunch of fellows.

I flip off to the left, well away from the happy trio. My landing is perfect.

“Where is he?” one of the thugs barks at the kid. “Where?!”

“I…I” the boy stammers.

“Daredevil!” one of the thugs calls out. But i sense no fear from these tough cookies.

“Is this a private party,” i ask, “Or can i get a little action?”

One of them–the biggest–starts coming towards me, and though Karen would disapprove, I’m going to enjoy the next few moments.

Three to one. Not bad odds. But when two of them pull out snub-nose revolvers, things look less rosy.

My club is up and ready. I throw my club at the most distant target and, turning away, i hear a gun clatter to the ground.

Then i charge the two men nearest me, even as one of them begins blasting away at me. I feel the bullets pass by, nearly digging into my shoulder. Another inch, and i’d have a nasty wound. I perform a few twists and turns, recovering my billy club in the process, and leap up, ready to finish with the three of them as quickly as possible.

They’re big and tough, but slow–like dinosaurs. My club must look like a blur to them as i easily smash the guns out of their hands and knock them to the ground. I have enough time to give the third and biggest thug a swift uppercut, which sends him sprawling backwards. I walk over to the boy they were working over and help him up.

“Thanks…” he sputters.

Then the thugs turn and start running, and i chase them. Two steps for every one of theirs. This is too easy. They’re so slow, They’re–

Then i smell it. Slight, almost lost in the stench of the city. Smoke. I hear, fainter still, a scream. How many blocks away? Six? Seven? If i can pick it up from this far away, it’s gotta be big.

I look at the thugs, running away.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” i say, turning to the boy. Then i start climbing hand-over-hand up a nearby fire escape to the roof. As i move the screams grow louder.

-

The scream. With every step i take, it seems louder, more shrill, even as people pass look at me, staring in wonder--

"Where's the fire, man?"

Faster, i tell myself, gulping air, and darting into traffic. A car comes barreling towards me, but i leap-frog over a nearby cab, and fly into the air.

The scream still grows, and finally, i can sense where it's coming from. The dark warehouse ahead is sending thin plumes of smoke out into the humid summer night air. I know the fire department will be here in four or five minutes. Plenty of time to save the nearby buildings, but not enough time to save whoever is screaming.

I sense that the ground-level opening has a thick metal door. But there's also a rickety fire escape leading up to the top where the screams are coming from.

I jump up to grab the fire escape and with practised skill, my hands close around the metal bar. I swing around, throwing my body up and finally onto the ladder. Ignoring the rattling and odd creaking sound the rusty fire escape makes, i clamber for the rungs.

In the distance i can hear the wail of the fire engines. I can feel the late-night swirl of traffic on the streets that sprawl below me.

Above all, i hear the voice, just ahead now, the yelling has become more frantic--"Help me, please, please, help me!"

I reach the top of the building, and find the large window next to the fire escape is locked. I try to pry it open, but it won't budge.

"Help me," the voice behind the smoky glass pleads. I hurl my body into the window, shattering the glass.

I curl up and roll into the room, trying to sense any shards of glass. I land on my shoulder, and quickly spring to my feet before reaching a sliver of glass sticking up at a nasty angle.

The flames are everywhere--a smoky gasoline fire that could only be the work of arsonists. I detect where the voice is coming from. A loudspeaker sits on the floor (surrounded, no doubt, by nasty asbestos). I sense a light blinking on the cabinet.

The voice, so pitiful in its fear, changes.

"Well done, Daredevil. Now let's see if you can get out of this inferno in time. Your days as the West Side Vigilante, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, are over. And, should you get away, perhaps you'd like to try your luck again tomorrow at Coney Island. I'll be there in person. Waiting for you."

The light goes off, and the speaker explodes. Suddenly, a heavy beam crashes down toward me, a flaming spire ready to pin me to the floor.

I move slowly at first, my senses dulled by the smoke and confused by the fire, but i manage to move just in time. The flaming beam crashes through the floor just behind me, causing the building to shutter at is smashes down.

Got to move. Just got to get out of this oven--quickly! The stairs are masked by a wall of fire, so i back towards the fire escape, stumbling, my lungs burning, begging for fresh air.

Thankful, I reach the fire escape. There's noise from below, people milling about, talking, while firefighters hurry to train their hoses on the building. In minutes, this building will be gone. The only thing they can do at this point is try to save the other buildings.

I inch down, slowly, weakly, concentrating on every step i take. Like a frail, ancient man, i crawl downward. No fancy spins in the air now, I'll just be lucky to get on the ground. I reach the last rung of the ladder and lower myself to the ground.

There is a sudden flash in front of my face. Then another. A TV crew and other reporters are here. I hear a reporter quietly say, "As reported by an unnamed source, Daredevil was indeed inside the building. According to the source, he was seen entering the building earlier this evening. Now it is in flames. We'll try to..."

The camera is on me now, catching my masked face as I struggle to breathe.

Then, through the smoky cotton filter of my mind, it all fits together. I've just been framed. The voice in the warehouse. I know I've heard that voice before. If this town weren't down on me before, it sure will be now.

I have to get away quickly. Before the reporters ask more questions, before the police arrive, and before i collapse on the ground.

I rush away, pushing back people who grab at me and my mask, and hurry back to the dark alleys and rooftops that give me safety. All the while, I wonder, who's doing this to me? More importantly, why?

-

I have no idea what time it is when i return to the apartment. My muscles ache and all i can think about is collapsing in bed, leaving my costume on.

I awaken sometime the next day to the clatter of garbage truck hydraulics and cans being tossed cavalierly on the sidewalk. The apartment is empty, i guess that it's nearly noon.

It's not the first time I've missed the morning. I smell coffee in the kitchen, made fresh hours ago. After a quick shower, where i discover a few scrapes and bruises i didn't know i had, i get dressed. I toss my spare costume into my attache case--it may be a while before i get back to the apartment.

By the time i make it to the drop-in center, Karen is already having lunch. To my surprise, Foggy Nelson is with her.

"Nice to see you up at last." Karen says.

"Hi, Matt," Foggy adds, his voice tentative. Once we were best friends--partners. But Foggy made it clear which side he stood on concerning my current legal status.

"Good to see you, Foggy." i say, walking over to my desk.

"Matt, Foggy says that subpoena--" I hold up my hand.

"I don't want any lectures about the injunction. Not today. Not--"

"Matt," Foggy says, "This is something you can't ignore. They'll drag you into court, cite you for contempt--"

I stand up. "Don't quote the law to me, Foggy. The law is one thing. This," i snap, picking up the crumpled subpoena from where it sat the day before. "Is harassment, and here's where it belongs." i toss it into the corner, and it bounces to the floor next to the trash can.

I sense Foggy turn to Karen. They're closer now. Closer than ever before. They both think I'm out of control.

"I tried, Karen," he says, and walks out of the door with Karen following. She returns, exasperated.

"That was clever. Why don't you just alienate anyone who's ever tried to help you?"

"I suppose you'd like me to just give up? Walk right out of here, too? Spend years trying to clear my name--"

She walks over to the small laptop on her desk. "You'd better listen to this. It was on the news this morning."

"Why? What is...?"

"This city cannot--must not--become a breeding ground for vigilante groups of any stripe, costumed or not--"

Alex Wriley, a young, rich candidate for mayor. Running on a platform that includes shipping every costumed crime-fighter to Lower Slobovia or the Negative Zone. And he's doing real well with the voters, real well.

"--streets to be safe, under the protection of a properly trained and armed law enforcement department."

"Doesn't he know we work with them, for Chris'sake?! What's--"

"Wait," Karen says, "It gets worse."

His speech over, Wriley takes questions from the reporters.

"Mister Wriley, what about last night's reports that the Daredevil was seen fleeing a burning building? There are rumors of an extortion racket to get special protection."

I almost feel Wriley gloating.

"Precisely my point. Is Daredevil working for the side of the law and order, or is he just another freelance thug? Hands open to the highest bidder? I think my campaign will find the truth!" Karen clicks off the video.

"That lousy--"

"Matt, you're going to have to be careful. This Wriley is after you. He's got money. He's powerful."

I start to explain to Karen about the trap--but hold my tongue. There'll be time for talking later, when i know what's really going on.

"Right," i say, "Now, how about a trip to Staten island? Can Martin hold down the fort?"

Martin, my all-purpose file clerk, secretary, and hot-shot investigator is dealing with a crowd of people out front.

"Sure, he'll moan and groan, but love it."

"You can drive," i say smiling. "I could use another forty winks."

The ride is quiet, almost serene, and I'm glad when we reach the Nature Preserve.

"So peaceful," i say, stepping out of the car. "Hardly a breeze. I can pick up gull sounds from the shore. Smells pretty nice, too."

Karen takes my hand. "The factory is over here, over that hill."

I turn, straining to pick up anything unusual.

"Seems empty. Shall we go closer?" i ask.

"Sure, let's drive..."

"No." i give her hand a squeeze. "Let's walk. There's a path ahead. Some kind of opening."

"Yes, but--"

"I don't want to announce our arrival." I pull her along, leaving behind the gently wooded area of the nature preserve, following a makeshift trail up a scruffy hill.

"God," Karen says. "What a mess!"

I can make out the rough outline of the buildings, some gutted, some intact, a few completely gone, leaving only empty, gaping foundations.

"Must be an ugly sight." i say. Then i smell it. Something foul, noxious. It seems to scar my nostrils and burn as it enters my lungs. "There's something wrong here."

Then i hear the sound if a truck entering the property from a distance.

"Someone's coming." Karen says.

Above the roar of the truck, i sense three people, their heartbeats, the rhythm of their breathing. One of them is, yes, familiar. It's quite clear, in fact, that i met him last night--and he got away from me. That won't happen again.

"Can you see where they're headed?" i ask Karen.

"To one of the buildings, one that looks fairly intact."

"Then that's where we're headed."

Karen grabs my arm. "Matt, shouldn't we call the police and let--"

"Let them what? We're trespassing as it is, Karen. The only evidence we've got is a little old lady and my radioactive nostrils. If you want to help change the situation, then we have to see what's going on."

She nods, and i sense her trust, her faith in me, lapsing. Just another battle I'll have to fight to win back her confidence--her love.

The back of the building abuts the river. I hear the water moving back and forth, splashing onto the sharp rocks.

"Do you hear anything?" karen asks.

"Yeah, lots. There are voices, machinery, and--"

"There's a window, Matt. Hoist me up?"

"My pleasure." i reach down and pick up Karen, quickly raising her to look inside.

"A bit higher."

"I can't fly, Karen."

"That's good. I can...oh, Matt! This is terrible. This is..."

"What's the big piece of machinery, Karen? It's growing louder."

"It's digging into the ground, and there are stacks of barrels ready to be rolled into the hole. Matt, she was right, she--"

I turn, picking up the faintest footfall coming around the corner of the building. I lower Karen and try to get ready.

"Matt, what the--"

But behind me there's another sound, and i find myself between two thugs.

I might be out if costume, but I'm not about to let that slow me down. With a speed that startled the two goons, i send my hands out, using precision moves that are made possible only by boxer's reflexes.

Perfect shot--if smashing another humans jaw could ever be described that way.

Lately, i winder whether Karen is right, thinking that i like the violence...need it.

I catch the goon at my left on the chin, and he flies backward, cartoon-style. With time to spare, i cuff the other on the side of the face. Not hard enough to knock him out, but with plenty of force to send him tumbling to the ground.

Now, to just find out who these lovelies work for.

The air is suddenly filled with a high-pitch siren.

"What is it?" Karen asks.

Then i sense the two guards scrambling to their feet, running away.

"I've got to catch up to them." i say.

Karen holds me back, trying to keep me from the danger she now fears i live for.

I pull away, turn and begin running.

The sandy ground offers little support for my feet, especially when I'm wearing my clod-hopper city shoes. If only there were time to change into my costume.

The truck is already moving down the road and the two guys who attacked me climb onto the back as it pulls away. I run as fast as i can, ignoring the growing oxygen debt in my body, until it seems as if a successful leap might send me onto the back of the truck.

Despite the inelegance of my leap, I'm amazed to find that my hands close around the back panel of the truck. With one kick, i climb over.

"Hi, boys. Mind if i catch a ride?" the two thugs seem disturbed by my appearance.

"What's with the glasses--are you blind?"

"Why, are you making faces at me?" I reply.

I hear them separate, slowly moving towards the front of the truck, then they come at me. I crouch, ready to dispose of them quickly, when the truck suddenly barrels over a curb. Sending me crashing into the side wall.

Then they're on me, eager to take advantage of their lucky break. One of them closes his hand firmly around my windpipe, while the other digs into his back pocket for something.

No time for fooling around.

The truck lurched to the left--the driver doesn't seem concerned about what he's driving over. His two accomplices are jostled by the bump, and i move quickly to grab both of them, placing them in simple but effective headlocks. I squeeze just enough to let them know i might be stronger than they imagine.

"Ow." one of them yelps over the truck's engine.

"Where's this heap headed?" I yell. "Come on, guys, let's make this easy."

A small window leading to the cabin opens, and a pudgy face with pinholes for eyes looks back at me.

Then, suddenly, the entire floor of the truck flips upwards, like some kind of garbage truck. That's what it is, hauling toxic waste and dumping it where no one can see. No, no one would ever know about it until it's too late.

The three of us start sliding backwards. I let go of the thugs, but not in time to grab on and stop my fall out of the truck. I land on my feet, while the two henchmen tumble awkwardly in the sand. When they stand up, i grab them by their collars.

"I hate to get unfriendly again. Now, tell me where that truck is going."

They look at each other, then one of them begins jabbering away. "It's heading--" but he doesn't finish his sentence. He screams and the other one joins on, both of them reaching for the backs of their heads, before crumpling into the sand.

I kneel, trying to sense their heartbeats, their breathing, but get nothing.

Karen runs over to me, "Are they...?"

"Dead."

"But how? You didn't do anything?"

I feel behind one of the men's necks, find a small protrusion, and pull it out.

"Here it is." i say, handing the small device to Karen. "Radio operated, I guess. Guaranteed to keep people in line. Nasty, very nasty."

"But who'd use such a device?"

"Someone big, powerful, and unless I'm wrong, new to this town."

"Well, I've got the license plate number, we'll call the police and--"

I put my hand in Karen's shoulder. "You'll call the police. Later. After you've taken me to Brooklyn."

-

The car must be halfway across the Verazono Bridge, I figure. I can feel the engines rumbling with the streams of traffic.

"I don't like it," I say, "Not a bit." I sit in the back of the car, having exchanged my suit for my red costume while Karen drives. My mask is in my lap, and my club is sitting next to me.

"In the building last night," I say, trying to defend myself. "Someone wanted me to go to Coney Island. If it's a trap, it's best that i spring it. If someone wants me at Coney Island, I'll be glad to oblige, but only on my terms, and I'm not about to announce my arrival."

"But what about that dump?" Karen asks.

"It will take a while for the police to track down that license plate. In the meantime, that mayoral candidate Wriley is having a field day trashing my reputation. Maybe i can get to the bottom of it all at the amusement park."

"Or just make it worse, Matt."

"I'll call tonight. Late," I say, ignoring her comment. "I may not come home for a while. Not until i find out what's happening."

Karen drives on in silence, out to the Belt parkway. The open window brings the smells of Brooklyn by the ocean to my nostrils. The salty-sweet smell of the Atlantic and the tang of freshly caught fish reaches me.

Then i hear the whirling, frenetic sounds of Coney Island--the clatter of the roller coaster as it starts to climb its wood-strut hill, the carousel's calliope keeping time for its horses, and the nearby ocean, with kids and women squealing as each wave crashes in.

Its late afternoon. I'll have to stay out of sight till dusk--not a difficult task in the seedy back streets and alleys of the now-depressed area.

"Stop here," I say, picking up a clear image of rows of buildings and streets all quiet now. "Thanks for the ride."

I open the door and Karen reaches back to touch my shoulder, trying to close the emotional gap between us.

"Matt...be careful, please."

I wait, but her 'I love you' doesnt come.

"Yeah, as careful as I can be." I reply. Then I'm gone, and the long night begins.

There are a lot of places to scare people here, places where a good natured thrill could give way to horrible disaster.

The wonder wheel is a monstrous Ferris wheel overlooking the ocean, and with its room-sized cabins, it holds a lot of people. It could be a horrible thing if something caused a cabin to slip loose, crashing to the ground.

But, there could be something more dramatic. The Hurricane coaster is primed for a tragedy. Once the most ferocious coaster in the world, it's now old and dangerous enough without anyone helping it along.

Boy, is it easy to picture the coaster careening off its tracks. Its passengers screaming. This tine though, it would be in earnest.

-

It is dark. My favorite time, a time when my advantage becomes unstoppable.

I feel the night and the cool salty breeze off the ocean, and the shadows that keep me out of sight. In minutes, I can begin moving, climbing to the top of the decrepit buildings. Leaping from one to the other, crouching, listening, waiting. To meet whomever is out to destroy my reputation.

Already, I hear the sound of growing voices, some screaming from the beach, all sandy and burnt red, others spilling out of the subway for some fun among the rides, arcades and...and for others, other pleasures.

The night belongs to them. And to me.

-

The Hurricane coaster. A legend. Nearly everyone who's spent time in NY knows of this old coaster. It was once the highest, fastest coaster in the world, with parts of its run hurling cars at nearly 90 mph. Fortunately for me, it is located away from the more tame amusements of Coney Island. Its foundation is shrouded in darkness. The only lights being at the top of the entrance.

I crawl around the bottom, hearing the coaster's whine and the riders' screams echo around the massive structure.

It feels all wrong. I can't put my finger on it. Sure, its old, decrepit, and needs to be torn down, but there's something else.

Then i hear it. The gentle, almost imperceptible groan. Almost as if the whole structure was shifting--just a little--with every ride made around the coaster.

In maybe three or four places, the lattice of wood and metal is loose. But how loose?

I pick up something else then. At first, i think it's just some kind of sonic echo discharged as the coaster's car roar around, but it's moving too quickly, too purposefully. Someone is climbing around on the structure itself. If I'm right it may be too late already.

Of course it would be here, one of Brooklyn's landmarks. The Hurricane coaster. Even as i hear the sound of the cars beginning their climb up the hill, i sense someone else climbing the dark lattice of beams and girders, scrambling to the top, to an old siding that holds used, beaten coaster cars.

I even know who it is. From the nervous breathing, the wiry body, and the arsenal dangling from him, I can tell it's the Boomerang --Fred Myers, the self-advertised "Killer who keeps coming back". He's a mad-man for hire, who doesn't care who he kills as long as someone meets his price.

I hear the happy squeals of people on the coaster. They don't know it, but they're just pawns in a strange game. Even I am a pawn, until I find out who's waging this war on me.

I creep up behind him, climbing hand over hand from one beam to another, then grabbing at the grease-filled track and clambering up behind the unsuspecting killer.

Suddenly, a beam gives way and I tumble toward the ground. I quickly grab at a nearby beam and save my skin, but boomerang turns and looks into the darkness.

"Daredevil?! Daredevil, of course. You're early, my friend, too early. But, I'll try to accommodate you as best I can." His weird laugh echoes strangely through the structure.

I regain my balance, ready to leap up and grab at him but my senses pick up his movements, sliding a boomerang off his belt. Before i know it, he has tossed it my way.

"Enjoy this, Daredevil, I picked it out specially for you."

The rang comes right at me.

Just what is Boomerang about to flip my way? Some explosives, a flying buzzsaw, or something even more deadly?

I keep still, letting the path of the rang become clear to my radar sense. Above me, Boomerang cackles, picturing my demise.

I wait, checking the graceful arc of the rang. Then I move, swinging to a nearby beam, as the rang cuts through the space I formerly occupied. I throw myself upward, swinging like a monkey-turned-gymnast, because I know Boomerang wont wait another moment before getting another rang off at me. I'm too fast for him though, flying up to his perch with an almost graceful ease. Only the club in my hands indicates that this isn't just an entertaining physical exhibition.

"Don't move, Fred. Don't even think about another toy."

Click-clack. The cars of the coaster are almost at the peak. Has he done anything yet? Is there something I'm missing?

He laughs. "No, I wouldn't dream of doing anything." But then he moves. He meant it to be quick and startling, but he telegraphed it to my brain with every nervous tremor of his body.

A rang in his hands now, smooth, shiny, and razor sharp.

I swing my club at his hand.

My club smashes down at his hand, and Boomerang lets out a yelp as a rang goes flattering and spiralling to the bottom of the coaster.

"Don't try that again, friend. I'd hate to see you have an accident up here."

I sense Boomerang turn in the direction of the coaster cars, now at the top of the ride, about to begin their trip down. His heartbeat begins to race.

Has he done anything? Have I stopped him in time?

Then, as if answering my question, he dives to his left, stepping onto a criss-cross of beams, digging a boomerang out of his belt. I leap for him, but not before he gets the rang up and ready to be thrown.

I grab his arms, and squeeze him as hard as i can. The coaster is on its way down the hill now, all it's riders wearing mock-terrified grins and ready to scream.

"No!" Boomerang bellows, still holding onto the rang. "It's explosive...it will destroy us all!" then it slips from his hands and i dive to catch it.

I catch the rang, wondering with an almost absurd fatalism when the thing will go off.

I look for a safe place to toss it.

The roller coaster comes right at me while i toss the rang into the air. It explodes with a concussive roar that hurls me backwards. The riders scream as they fly down the hill.

I sense that another page has been written in the myth of Daredevil-turned-rogue.

The roar of the plunging coaster continues--the screech of the wheels, and the truly scared screams make it impossible for me to locate Boomerang. Then i sense him on the beach, running west towards the Jetty--probably to a waiting boat.

I saved the people on the roller coaster, but they'll never know that. All they saw was me standing there, a mad bomber.

Boomerang is just a hired gun. I have to catch him, to find out who is really behind this. I start climbing down to the ground, as the night air once again rings with silence.

I quickly work my way down to the beach, crawling through the dark understructure of the Hurricane coaster, leaving all the mayhem behind. I leap over a fence, and land on the boardwalk. I hurry to the beach, hoping i still have time to catch the Boomerang.

The sand offers me little bit poor footing--it seems the harder I dig into it, the more it gives away. I move down to the water's edge, hoping the wet, surf-pounded sand will make for better traction.

I hear him running just ahead. I also sense the jetty and something moored in the water.

Suddenly, Boomerang stops, and pulls a rang from his side. He sends it flying at me. His throw is sloppy. Old Fred is more interested in getting his body out of there than hitting mine. I wait until the rang's trajectory is clear to me, then dive to the left, hearing it pass over me. It circles the spot where I was just standing, spraying the air with some form of gas. Probably deadly stuff, I think, leaping to my feet. I'm gaining on Boomerang now, when he's only a few feet ahead, i bring him down with a flying tackle and waste no time on niceties.

"Who're you working for, Boomerang?" I bellow as i beat him. "Tell me!"

"I...I..." he blubbers. I clamp his cheeks between my fingers and squeeze.

"Tell me, Myers, or so help me--"

It's an interesting thing about mercenaries and "Guns For Hire": they're only loyal as long as they're paid, or until they start feeling pain. In fact, most of them ive met can't stomach pain.

"...Kingpin." he finally mumbles.

Kingpin, alias of Wilson Fisk. He's one of Alex Wriley's biggest mayoral campaign supporters, and the city's most respected criminal. He's covered his tracks well. But, although there is no love lost between He and I, I haven't the slightest as to why he's trying to trap and ruin me.

"What's the gig, Fred? Why all this effort to mess up my life?"

"I don't know!" he cries.

I give his face a fist. "Ow! I told you, I don't know! He just said he'd like your name trashed before-"

"Before what?!"

"Before his new theater opens."

Yes, now I remember. The new Fisk Grand Theater, a state-of-the-art luxury venue on 48th street, able to stage gargantuan performances there with almost any special effect required. Tomorrow night it opens, and Kingpin will be there.

"But you still haven't--"

"Daredevil!" voices from behind me shout. Official voices-police. "Daredevil stand up, please, and put your hands in the air. We have some questions about what happened tonight with the coaster."

Great. Now the police are on my back.

"Please do it now!"

"Okay," I say loudly. "I'm getting up." I get off Boomerang slowly. "See. I'm--"

Then Boomerang scrambles away and rubs down the beach. I turn to follow him but i hear "Freeze, Daredevil!" they obviously can't make out Boomerang.

But if i let myself be taken in, I may find myself locked up for Arson, Extortion, numerous assaults, and who knows what else. I roll quickly to the side, spinning, careening over the sand, a dark red blur to the officers' eyes. I hear a gunshot, and I leap again hoping it's as dark on the beach as I imagine.

I hear more shots. But I'm running now. I hear them trying to follow, their heavy feet digging into the sand.

Boomerang is gone. Perhaps to his boat, perhaps to some dark hole beneath the boardwalk.

But I'm free, too. On my own. An outlaw. A wanted man.

It's time for Kingpin and I to have another one of our little talks, I think.

"I'm a fugitive now," I think. "Not much different from thousands of other drifting outsiders. Drifting–and dangerous."

The night offers me a perfect shroud. Anyone that sees me climbing rooftops or crawling through alleyways at 3AM, will probably think twice about calling the police. And by then, I'll be gone.

I move steadily away from Coney Island, away from the sounds of the police sirens and investigation into the tragedy. Within an hour, they'll be searching for me. So I know I've got to remain free, to confront Kingpin.

One more night, that's all I'll need. At least I hope that's all I'll need.

Morning arrives, and I sense the light–the growing heat signaling another hot day of late summer. I hear children pouring out of the high-rise apartments, savoring the freedom that the endless summer of youth brings, hearing their voices swirling around me, making me remember my own childhood.

It was late afternoon. I had spent the day with my best friend, a quiet, strong-willed kid named Eddie. I spent the day shooting baskets–he was always much better than me–and biking around his neighborhood, talking about girls, "Twilight Zone" episodes, and other weighty topics.

But I forgot to watch the clock that day, letting the hours slip by. Finally, Eddie's mother, getting dinner ready, suggested my mother may be calling me.

Like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, I popped up in my chair, not wanting to get grounded for missing another dinner with my dad.

The only way to get home in time was a shortcut through Hempstead Park, passing the playing fields and swings, and into the narrow trails that passed through the woods. It was fast, direct, and forbidden. Bad things had happened there, some I knew about, like the kid at school who had his bike stolen. Other things parents talked quietly to themselves about.

I biked as hard as I could that day, into the park, seeing ten minutes disappear from my traveling time.

At first I was surrounded by people. A men's softball game, with overgrown kids, a bunch of mom's with their toddlers at the swings. But when I cut into the woods, climbing the trail towards my neighborhood, I found myself alone.

I heard voices ahead, in plenty of time to turn back. But I kept on biking, figuring I'd just pedal past whoever it was, with no problem.

Then I could see them, maybe eight big kids standing around smoking cigarettes. They looked at me with an eagerness that chilled my whole body. One kid reached out and grabbed my handlebars, stopping my bike so abruptly that I nearly flipped qnd went flying over the front of it.

"Take a wrong turn, punk?" The one holding the bike said.

"Nice bike!" Said another, and then I was lifted off and tossed to the side, while one of them climbed onto my bike seat.

"Get off!" I yelled. "That's my bike, so get away you big, fat, smelly–"

They stopped and looked at me. Then one came real close.

"Hey, I know who you are. Your the Murdock kid." He gave me a push. "A real wussy."

"Yeah." Said another. They pushed me again, only this time someone crouched behind me and I tumbled backwards while they collapsed in laughter. Over and over I stood up to defend myself while they laughed hysterically, pushing me back down into the dirt. I saw my bike being rammed into trees and wheels being bent.

"Beg for it." One of them said, holding out my bent frame of a bike. I stood there, my face a blotchy mess, my pants torn, alone and afraid.

"C'mon," one of them finally said. "Give him his bike and let him get the hell out of here."

I took my bike, now suddenly not the same beloved thing that it was just a while ago. I got back onto the trail as the gang of teens watched me go.

It was a dark place, that fear, that loneliness, a dark place that I've never forgotten. I've ached to pay those bullies back since that day.

Now, my body racked with the aches and pains from the night, I feel alone again.

My radar sense tells me there is a phone ahead–open and exposed. Maybe there is someone I need to talk to–if she'll believe me, trust me.

I go to the phone and dial the number.

She's there…

"Karen–" I start, surprised at how tired my own voice sounds.

"Matt, where are you?"

"Beautiful downtown Brooklyn. I need you to–"

"The papers have photos of the hurricane coaster all torn apart, Matt. They're saying you–"

"Karen, c'mon. You know better than to believe that."

"The owner says he was threatened, that if he didn't make the payoffs, he'd lose the coaster. The police have asked that you surrender peacefully. Matt–"

I hear it in her voice. She's going to ask me to turn myself in. That's nice, neat, and safe, except that Id likely find myselt locked up in Ryker's while whoever wanted me out of the West side could move in for the kill.

"Karen, listen, that's not the answer. This is a part of a plan, and I need your help." I sense hesitation. 'Please Karen,' I think, 'Dont give up on me now.'

"What is it, Matt? What do you need?"

"Atta girl! Boomerang was at the coaster–with the explosives."

"Myers?! What on earth for?"

"He was working for Kingpin, though I have no idea why. Tonight that new Fisk theater is scheduled to open, right? Kingpin's legitimate showcase, funded, of course, by his assorted rackets. I'm going to confront him there, and get him to talk."

"Oh, Matt, I don't know. Everyone will be there. All the mayoral candidates, the press–"

"I don't have a lot of time. Here's what I need you to do. Get a look at the plans for the theater. I need a back entrance I can sneak into. Find out where Fisk will be seated. I'm sure it will be in a box seat of some kind. Find out where, okay?"

I hear another pause. "Yeah…I'll see what I can do."

"Great, and just make sure you don't give much credence to anything you're reading about me."

"Sure."

She's holding something back, something that got some reason she doesn't wanna tell me.

"Karen, is something wrong?"

"No, Matt, just be careful."

Right, careful, of everyone.

I sense the rumpled man turn down 17th Street, a bag of groceries in his hand, shuffling along, whistling. Unaware that I am about to call in my debts. I swing down from a nearby rooftop, and land close to him.

"Daredevil!" He says with genuine awe. "I thought–" but I close my hand tightly over his mouth and pull him into a nearby alley.

"Talk quietly, Turk." And feeling his head nod slightly, I release him.

"I thought you was gone, high-tailed it out of the city. Jeez you should hear peeps be saying about you."

"Yeah, I can imagine." It's odd that at a time like this, I seek out Turk Barret, a petty good, nickel-and-diming his way through life. But, he also keeps his ears and pistols cocked to the deeper thrums and rumblings of the streets–a talent that has kept him, as far as I'm concerned, from a graveyard. "What do you hear, Turk?"

"That you've turned. You're shaking down folks, now. story is, you've grown bitter, DD, bitter and thirsty for revenge."

So that's what you're hearing?

I put a not-quite-protective arm around Turk.

"That's what the press is saying, Turk. Now, why don't you take a deep breath and tell me what you think is really happening. Be creative." I say, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Tell me what you think is happening."

He looks around, his fear obvious. The sweat, the fidgeting–but it's not fear of me.

"I don't know, Dare–"

"Talk, Turk." Then it comes.

"It's big. That's all I really know. It's really big. Someone's making moves in New York that I've never seen done before, big moves. Power plays. I don't know who's involved, honest. All I know is they're new, and they want you out of the West Side, away from the docks. First you, then the others."

"No vigilantes," I smile. "Just the crooks and the overwhelmed and crooked police department. Thanks, Turk. I know that was hard for you." I leap to the fire escape.

"If I'm lucky, I won't have to bother you again. But, just in case, keep your ears open." I climb away from the hoodlum.

It seems to take forever for night to arrive. My call to Karen was brief but helpful. Whether or not she believes me, she came up with just the information I needed. A reporter helped her look up the plans for Fisk theater in public records, and she also picked up the guest list of everybody that will be in attendance (I probably won't need that), and even where Kingpin's private box is located.

The premier is scheduled to be a glittering event in the political campaign, with each of the five mayoral candidates attending. As will I, in my own special way.

For a while, I hover around 8th Avenue, stumbling upon other refugees from society that are awaiting darkness.

My radar sense picks up the line of cars pulling up to the theater–heavy stretch limos and a taut little Mercedes, with a few lesser-autos thrown in from the press corps.

Fisk arrives nearly at 8PM, ready to make his entrance. I pick him out easily, lumbering out of his car. Though huge, Kingpin is no sluggish fatty. He is a powerful, brutal man, with just enough distance from his dirty dealings and himself to stay in the good graces of the law.

Then the car disappears.

It seems like the rear of the theater is nice and quiet, almost peaceful, when I pick up some motion against the walls. A stagehand, I suppose, or maybe someone checking scenery. But I pause, suddenly aware that there's familiar patterns in the movement.

Then I know what it is. Someone is climbing the rear wall. Nice trick. In fact, I have quite a few friends capable of that feat. But this one is more than a friend–Black Widow.

I start towards building, wondering what in the hell she is doing here?

The door opens, amazingly enough, and I find myself face-to-face with a security guard. As I knew I would.

"Daredevil!" He shouts, going for his gun. How quickly they all accept the big lie.

"Sorry, friend." I say, throwing an effortless blow that sends the guard crashing against the main stage entrance.

Fortunately, my restrained blow knocks him out, at least long enough for me to carry on.

I turn from the stage and auditorium entrance to a small staircase leading to the basement of the theater. It spirals down for three levels–below all the fancy stage machinery that can make complete sets disappear and raise the orchestra to the rafters. Finally, I'm at the bottom level, the business end of the theater. I find three heavy-duty boilers (cool and quiet now) and a battery of noisy, groaning compressors that feed cool air into the entire theater. There are also pipes leading under the seats to the front of the house, then up to the mezzanine, the balcony and the box-seats.

I run, hearing the muffled vibrations of the orchestra playing a warm-up number. It sounds very bassy down here, but nonetheless wonderful.

I run now, annoyed at the sheer size of the theater–the biggest on Broadway. Built by dozens of shady handshakes, and dirty money laundered by way of Columbia and Miami. Then I hear somebody running behind me, running just as fast. I turn, and before she says a word, I know who it is.

"Black Widow. I didn't expect to surprise you." She steps closer to me. "Are you here to help?" I ask.

"In a way, Matt. I think…I think you need some help."

"Welcome to the club." More steps, and we face each other in the narrow chamber, separated by only 5 feet.

Black Widow, Natasha Romanov. An enemy at one time, a lover at another, and now aupposedly an ally.

"How'd you know I was here?" She doesn't answer, but I do for her. "Karen. Did she contact–"

"No." She says, reaching out and touching my arm. "I cornered her." I let my hand press against hers.

"Why, Natasha?"

She pulls away. "To catch you. To talk to you. Matt…I still care enough for you to try to keep you from doing something you'll regret. You have to turn yourself in…answer some–"

"Like hell I do!" I step back. "Natasha. You can help me or leave me alone, it's your choice. But you're not getting me out of here until I do what I've come to do."

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Matt. Very sorry." She raises her bracelet suddenly, catching me off guard. Twin jets of gas spew out at my face.

I perform a quick backwards somersault, slapping my feet against the ceiling, but the maneuver gets me away from the pellets. I raise my club, waiting for the gas to dissipate.

"I don't know why you're doing this, Black Widow, but two can play at that game."

I pull my punch.

She may be a former KGB spy, but she's been a good friend and loyal lover too. I can sense that she almost didn't expect the blow, and her reflexes arent quite enough to avoid it. It sends her stumbling backwards, fumbling at her bracelet (perhaps ready to give me a taste of something lethal). I waste no time pinning her arms to the ground.

She struggles hard, but I'm too much dead weight. "Get off, you big–"

"Easy," I say. "I'm just trying to protect myself."

"And I'm trying to protect you, too! If you can even still be protected. Half the people in this city think you're a violent outlaw."

"They're wrong."

"A lot of good just saying that does. Will you get off me now?"

"Not until I'm sure you're not gonna try to hand me over to the, ahem, proper authorities."

"I promise."

I stand up, waiting for the ever-so-nimble Black Widow to try to lay me low again.

"There," she says exasperated. "No tricks. Now, tell me what's going on."

"Easier said than done, but here it goes…"

I move close to Natasha, remembering how much I once cared for her. I try to make my story sound convincing.

"The fire was real enough," I say, speaking about the warehouse two nights ago, "But the voice I heard came from a loudspeaker."

"But, why?"

"A trap, and a plot to discredit me. The media lackeys were there, waiting for me when I made my 'suspicious' departure."

"And the coaster?"

"I guess you'll have to just trust me on that one," I laugh. "But Boomerang was there. He set off the explosives. He also directed me here–to Kingpin. I don't mind a fair fight, but there's something about this that's way over my head. If Kingpin has some of the answers, I want to talk to him."

Black Widow stands there, silently debating whether or not to believe anything I'm saying. Perhaps figuring the best way to get me under lock and key or turn me in. Then, quietly she asks, "what can I do to help?"

"Bless you, beautiful. Even I was beginning to lose faith in my one-man campaign. Here's what I need:"

I hold her–its so wonderful to to have someone else to lean on–and ask her to surveil the front of the theater.

"In case Kingpin decides to step out before I get to him."

"Fine." She says.

"If you see him sneaking away, just come and get me. Now, I'd love to stay and catch up but I'm already late for my grand entrance."

I turn from Black Widow and dash down the corridor, beneath the massive hall, to the shafts leading up to the box-seats–and to Kingpin.

The corridor narrows, then opens into a small room with larger shafts leading up. Ducts appear to carry hot and cold air to the rear of the auditorium.

There's a schematic drawing posted above one of the shafts, showing where each leads. One exits right behind the box seats, probably ending in a small grid facing the seats. Not so small, I hope, that I won't be able to squeeze through it.

I sense another shaft feeding into the ones leading to the rest of the house. There's an oversized valve to one side. I close it–hoping the patrons won't mind their next ten minutes or so of stuffiness, Because I hope that ten minutes is all that it will take me. Then I pop open the metal flap leading to the seats, I stick my head in, hoping my radar sense will guide me safely.

Up I climb, pressing my feet and my back against the walls of the metal shaft. Outside I hear the sounds of rock music–I can't place the song or the group–keeping up with contemporary rock groups hasn't been a priority lately. But it's good and loud–guaranteed to mask my activity.

Then my radar sense picks up a curve ahead, and worse, a slight narrowing. The shaft curls and becomes half as large.

I use my arms to pull myself along, all the time thinking that if the shaft gets any smaller, I'd be stuck like a cork in a wine bottle.

But then I see the grid. It's small, but unless my senses are off, large enough to squeeze through.

I wait, letting my breathing ease up. I concentrate on finding where my favorite tough-guy, Wilson Fisk, exactly is.

There he is! In one of the boxes just behind a heavy door. I can pick out the bulky figure resting on a custom-designed seat. He's in his own compartment, shielded from anyone to his left or right. Two goons are near the back, as if Kingpin couldn't take care of himself!

It's time to pay the big man a visit.

I put my hands onto the mesh, but then I sense something else–or the lack of aomething. Kingpin has no heartbeat, no breathing. He's either dead…or he's a dummy. A decoy for Daredevil.

"In for a penny, in for a pound." I say. At least I know it's a trap. I smile to myself.

The grating gives way with only the slightest sound. Fortunately, the rock music continues to blare at ear-splitting volumes, masking what noise I make.

The lobby area is empty and I sense a door ahead, leading to Kingpin's box. I walk to it quickly, almost matter-of-factly. It opens, and I hear the music at full volume. I sense the great bulk of Kingpin ahead.

Unfortunately, I also sense his two burly thugs flanking him.

No matter, I can get to him before they can get to me.

I hear footsteps, and I throw a chokehold around Kingpin.

"Okay, Willy, I think it's time we had a little chat."

But the massive bald head doesn't move–it feels like dead weight in the crook of my elbow. Is he dead? I hear two semi-automatic pistols being drawn from shoulder-holsters. It's time to change tactics.

"Sorry," I say, releasing Kingpin's head, which lolls forward, "but I'm afraid firearms are not allowed in the theater." I quickly club each of the thugs' gun hands and the silenced Uzi's clatter to the floor. I reach out and grab each of the goons by their sharkskin lapels. "Now, let's see which of you knows more."

"Im afraid neither of them would be able to help you." Says a voice. It's Kingpin, standing at the rear of the box. I hear a whining sound behind me, and the box is enclosed in a special clear acrylic. I let his two hoods go.

"Fine, I'll go directly to the big man himself." But he catches me off guard. My radar sense picks up Kingpin raising his jeweled cane overhead. Harmless enough, I suppose, if I can dodge the laser he has built into it.

The box is completely enclosed. Anything could happen in here and the rest of the audience would be oblivious to it. "Such an easy mark!" Kingpin laughs, and I hear the high-pitched whine of the laser as he brings it down, aimed directly at mt chest.

The laser slices the air where I was standing. It singes the still-new carpet. The now-enclosed box suffuses with a foul odor (like the illegal dump on Staten Island).

"I'll take that," I say, reaching out to grab Kingpin's cane.

I reach out and grab at Kingpin's jeweled cane (a compact industrial laser that Fisk wields with the dexterity of an accomplished swordsman). Kingpin's arm is like an unyielding tree limb. But I twist his stick left and right, giving it a sudden flip, and his sausage fingers loose their hold. It takes me but a second to toss the weapon to the side.

"There," I say, "Now we can talk like two civilized men."

He comes at me. A human steamroller, ready to flatten me.

In the narrow confines of the box seats, it will take some artful maneuvering to avoid his 450 pounds of firmly-packed flesh.

I wait until Kingpin is almost on top of me, then I nearly press myself against the brushed velvet wall while delicately tripping him. He falls to the floor against the wall with a crash.

"Okay, big guy, on your feet." Then I feel the cold, unmistakable steel gun barrel neatly lodged at the base of my spine.

"You can turn around, Mr. Daredevil. But do it slowly, if you don't mind."

Alex Wiley, mayoral candidate, and hater of costumed crimefighters, especially me.

"I guess you really don't care much about your candidacy," I say. "I mean, hanging out with old Tubby hard knocks here."

Kingpin's temper flares and he swipes me across my face with the jeweled end of his cane.

I begin to reach for him when Alex Wiley cautions, "Tsk, tsk, Daredevil."

I sense two accomplices on each side of him, with their weapons trained on me. "Such rude behavior. And I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, my friend. I'm not hanging around him. He's assisting me…for a price. Wilson's community spirit ends with his checkbook." He drapes his arm around Kingpin. "Though, I'm sure he'd support me for mayor anyhow."

"Yeah, all the rats and–"

Kingpin raises a fist to me, but Wiley touches his arm. "No, Wilson, allow the devil of Hell's kitchen his final few words to be pathetic banter."

My ears perk up at the use of the word: 'final'. It has the kind of terminal ring to it that makes me feel cold in an interminably hot and stuffy theater.

"So why trash my reputation, Wiley?"

"Ah, wonderful," he smiles. "You still think I'm Wiley, and if I can fool you, I can fool anybody."

I'm confused. Of course it's Wiley. My senses wouldn't trick me, not in that way. The voice, the mannerisms–all of it indicates Wiley.

"I can detect your confusion. The real Alex Wiley suffered an….unfortunate accident some years ago. I've taken his place."

"You killed him?"

"Oh please, Daredevil. I never kill anyone. Not directly, anyways. But I was there to take his place. The best bioengineering in the world has made me into an almost perfect duplicate of Alex Wiley. I assumed his distinguished background–Harvard Law, prestigious firm, and so on–and moved his entire political career in a slightly different direction. All according to plan."

Kingpin turns to Wiley. "Do you think you should be telling him so much?"

"Why the hell not?! It's over, Wilson, and you played your part well! In fact, you can leave us. There are still certain things not even for your ears."

Kingpin storms out of the box and down the corridor. I wonder whether I could take the three of them now–wiley and his two henchmen. But then I sense that their fingers are pressed tightly against the triggers, only a few millimeters away from blasting at me.

Okay, so I'm a captive audience.

The rock and roll band finishes one number and quickly segues into a second, even louder.

"You see, Daredevil, we have to discredit you, to turn peopke against all costumed vigilantes. With my platform, such hate would be easy to manipulate into a victory."

"You control the West side. So what? Not the rest of New York." He smiles, as if my comment had come from a child.

"Yes, the West side, and all it's docks. Absolutely crucial to our purposes. But we wouldn't ignore other costumed gadflies. It would just take time. In the meantime, our representatives would be in place.

"Oh yes, didn't I tell you? It's not just New York, my friend, though it had to be, of necessity, the first. Each city will have its own tailor-made plan, tied to an upcoming election. When we have a foothold in each of the major cities, then we can really get to work."

"We? Just who is this 'we'?"

"Ah, even Kingpin doesn't know this, Daredevil. He just thinks I'm trying to take you out, become mayor, use the docks for drug-running and moving radioactive waste to cheap dumps."

Now I remember how this all started. "Staten Island." I say quietly.

"Yes, I heard that site had an unwanted visitor. That was you, eh? Well, that's just a sideline to generate extra cash flow."

He steps back, towards the door, and I get the uncomfortable feeling that my audience is about to come to an abrupt end.

"You see, getting the cities is only the beginning. Important and necessary, but only a beginning. The Association wants nothing less than control over the entire nation–though we have plans for later…expansion. And it all starts with you, Daredevil." He begins laughing wildly, a hysterical, maniacal laugh. Another crackers case out for world domination. But something tells me that this guy–whoever he is–and his Association mean business.

One thing is pretty clear. Whatever Alex Wiley and the Association have planned for me, it won't be good. The way he's edged to the back of the box seats would indicate that my time for planning is up.

He backs up another step.

"My colleagues will accompany you outside, Daredevil. I suggest you come along quietly, their guns are silenced, and they are more than willing to use them."

I bet they are.

I follow Wiley out, looking for a good moment to disarm him and trash his plan for world domination. He leaves the box seats and walks for the emergency exit. "Oh," he says casually, "I almost forgot." He turns a small pen-shaped object over in his hand. "Almost." He squirts a thin stream of gas in my face.

"What–" I mutter, my nostrils inhaling the powerful stench. I try to reach for Wiley, but I'm collapsing to the floor.

Oh, my aching head! Is it still there?

I rub at my skull, trying to find the source of the throbbing pain. Slowly, I remember. There was a gas. I can still taste it on my lips, like insect repellent.

I feel the floor. Smooth, flat…and moving.

It vibrates under me, and rolls left and right, as if–im on a boat!

At least I'm intact, I'm glad to feel, stretching my arms and legs. I stand up, hoping my radar sense will give me a better picture of just what my current status is.

I'm not quite prepared for what I pick up. There's no one else on board, and this is no pleasure yacht. It is a good sized freighter, moving at a brisk clip. All around me is glass…this must be the bridge. There is a door just to the side, and I'd bet my life savings that ifs locked. I walk over to it slowly, painfully, to test it. The knob won't even move, as if it's been welded to the door.

"Great," I say a loud. "This has been a great week for me."

I concentrate harder, desperate for any information about what's going on here…what's happening.

There's another sound out there, beyond the glass. A ship–a big ship. An ocean liner, and this freighter is headed straight for it.

Sealed in on the bridge, with no controls and no way out. From the sounds surrounding the ship, I'd guess I'm still in New York harbor. But what am I doing here?

There's only one answer. A final disgrace committed by Daredevil, some horrible disaster perpetrated in plain sight of the harbor. It will have to end in my death. But what a wonderful way to crown Wiley's campaign to make the streets safer for criminals again.

I bang on the glass with my fist, but my hand bounces off harmlessly. I doubt even my billy club, if I had it, could do any good.

Then, I hear another rumble, not the ship but from beyond the glass. My ship seems to be turning slowly towards it.

"Oh no." I moan. "Not this." The freighter seems to kick into a higher acceleration, bearing down on what is senses to be a giant ocean liner. Everyone on deck, kids, lovers, retired peoples back from their dream vacations, are probably watching Daredevil steer a freighter right at them.

The Ocean Liner is now less than a half a nautical mile away. It lets out a warning howl. Someone, somewhere is sending the freighter I'm on at them.

Then I hear another sound, faint. A small motor, another boat.

Finally, I hear the sound of someone coming on board my ship. Footsteps, padding on the main deck, heading towards me. There's a heartbeat–and a voice.

"Daredevil, stand back from the glass, I'm going to blow it."

It's black Widow. How she got here, I'll never know.

I wait for the explosion–a specialty of hers–and I feel chunks of glass fly by me.

Black Widow climbs onto the bridge. Only a few thousand feet seperates me and the liner.

"Go!" She screams. "Find the controls! Before it's too late! Go!"

I step outside and listen to the freighter, hoping to find the sounds of a hidden control panel.

This time, I get lucky, zeroing in on the small control unit hidden aft.

"I've got it!" I yell to Black Widow, as I run over to it. I rip open the small box, noting the maze of wires inside. I first disengage two strands of wire leading to explosives–I obviously was not meant to survive the crash.

C'mon, which one controls the rudder? That's all that's important.

I can hear the ocean liner, close now. So close that I can hear people on deck, screaming and pointing at me.

C'mon!!!

Then I have it. One wire, then another, and the boat's throaty engine goes dead.

Still, the ship drifts forward. But, slowly, as the liner passes. Halfway, and the liner's almost clear. Then the bow of the ship nudges the ship before it sails on.

The people on the liner are knocked about, but they safely float by.

"You did it!" Black Widow exclaims.

"You did it, if anyone did." I say to her, throwing my arms around her and squeezing her tight.

A police launch chugs it's way towards us.

-

"So how did Black Widow know to follow you?" Karen asks, as two days later, all charges against me have been dropped, The two of us walk together through Central Park.

"She didn't–not at first. But when she decided to come back and check on me, and I wasn't there she got worried. Looking at the back exit, she found Wiley leaving with me all tied up."

"And where did Wiley go?"

"Back to his buddies in the Association, whoever they are. Black Widow has notified SHIELD and the FBI and other cities' police forces, but the info is so nebulous that I dont know what they'll do."

Karen pauses, then asks, "And was it fun meeting with Black Widow again?"

"Fun? Surprising, maybe and helpful. But–"

"No sparks?"

"No." I say.

It's just a small lie. Not much to feel guilty about. I take Karen's hand and walk towards the sounds of music and children coming from the Central Park carousel. Finally, a smile comes to my face.

[photoguy79]

5 Tips to Capture Selfies

It ought not be that difficult to take a decent selfie. Yet, we as a whole realize that feeling excessively well: you feel all hot and certain and snap a selfie, anxious to send it off to the previous evening's provocative Kindling date, and shock — your camera has out of nowhere become cold and vindictive and won't catch you the manner in which you really look.

You have two choices. Continue snapping ceaselessly randomly, taking pictures of yourself, with each selfie more regrettable than the following, until you get baffled and lose your certainty, or read on for our 5 selfie tips and figure out how to take a decent selfie, each and every time.

5 Priority Selfie Tips:

We have ordered the 5 precepts for how to take a wonderful selfie. Be that as it may, before you read ahead, go ahead and look at our video instructional exercise, complete with involved selfie activity visuals:

Slant Something

Point your telephone somewhat up, down or aside or keep your thoroughly telephone still and slant your head marginally. You can likewise have a go at shifting both your telephone and your head, in which case you'll look fairly senseless for a couple of moments until you make sure about your own triumphant combo of telephone + head + slant. Anything that you do, taking a selfie straight on is most likely not going to bring about your absolute best and it doesn't have anything to do with your lovely face. Trust me on this.

Consider it. Way some time ago before camera telephones were conceived, when Ben and Jen were Hollywood's power few, we took representations with 'genuine' cameras from lengths away. Not the very ideal interaction for taking a decent selfie.

Today, when you take a selfie, you're simply a careful distance (in a real sense, your arm's genuine length) away from the camera. At the point when you're really near any article (for this situation, your face), you see the item much uniquely in contrast to when you're further away.

Like, on the off chance that you see somebody running off somewhere far off they look, indeed, small. Presently on the off chance that you were putting together your perceptions stringently with respect to what you see, you may make certain there's a feline measured man some separation away from you. Yet, since your cerebrum has developed experience you realize that the sprinter is as a matter of fact a standard human and truth be told, not a feline.

Not persuaded? There's likewise the way that the round and hollow state of a camera focal point can make anything that's in the center — typically our nose — seem compliment or more extensive. That's right, I just said your nose could look greater. Andddd, that ought to be sufficient proof to ensure you slant while setting up for a selfie. We should continue on.

Click here to really get the most from your pics!

2. Eyes Matter

We're attracted to the eyes of any photograph we see. That is around 50% of the appeal of the Mona Lisa, correct? Despite the fact that a ton of correspondence happens by means of email and iMessage today, we're not robots. We're actually looking for that human association in somebody's eyes.

In this way, the fact is: to take a convincing selfie, center your eyes around the camera. Straightforwardly at the camera, not the telephone region overall. Assuming that you heeded my guidance above and squirmed your head and your telephone around to find the ideal selfie point, presently you want to freeze, concentrate, and look profound into the focal point of your cell phone.

On the off chance that you're similar to my mother and presently can't seem to see precisely where the camera is covered in that smooth, baffling iPhone joined to your hand, do a couple of tests to realize where your eyes really meet the camera.

While taking a selfie, I have companions who imagine they are going to tempt the focal point with their eyes. Others attempt to envision the second just before they are going to giggle. In the two cases, these companions of mine are attempting to relax their eyes and put some human feeling in their appearance. A decent selfie interfaces whoever is taking a gander at you, as far as you might be concerned, and it's basic for taking an incredible selfie.

‍3. Let there be light.

Whether you're selfie-ing inside or outside, avoid brutal lighting, as radiant white kitchen lights or direct daylight. All things considered, ensure there's sufficient light - generally your photographs can come out foggy and no measure of photograph altering later will be capable fix that.

Presently, the best season of day to take photographs outside is the point at which the sun is lower overhead, before dawn and just after dusk. That is only some fundamental photography essentials for you to bite on not too far off: I realize that regardless of how hung up you are on taking a decent selfie, you won't awaken before the sun accomplishes for it.

Click here to make your pictures stand out!

4. Stow away From The Shadows

You're searching for the right lighting, however you'll need to stay away from shadows, as well. Regardless of whether you've tracked down the ideal brilliant hour to snap a selfie: on the off chance that the shadow of a post or window blinds cuts across your face, it ain't charming.

Abstain from disconcerting shadows by snapping pics in the shade. On the off chance that you're taking a post-run selfie and the sun is causing shadow issues, conceal out under an obscure tree to catch your dewy post-exercise gleam.

In the event that that is not feasible, point yourself so the sun is at your back. That forestalls shadows and furthermore implies you're not squinting at the camera from the blinding sun. Goodness, and for those of you who are super-extra: you can attempt a sun diffuser or reflector to deal with the shadows.

Click here to make the most of your best pictures.

5. Smile Ordinary

Recollect grade school picture day? There was generally one youngster who just couldn't confront the camera with a characteristic grin. Signal a yearbook photograph that torment everybody's fantasies.

It's in no way, shape or form simple dominating a characteristic grin for the camera. Unnatural grins are mechanical, solid, not valid, and now and again well, dreadful. Since this isn't instinctive for everyone, you might need to rehearse.

Take a lot of selfies and practice until you track down your most normal, attractive grin: tighten your lips in various ways, open your mouth midway, turn up the sides of your lips somewhat, grin wide with every one of your teeth, attempt a quiet grin. Which grin feels the most "you?" Which grin could you at any point nail without looking? A natural smile is your best smile.

Click here for the best photo editor you will ever own!

[huenjin]

hey,

i'm glad you're having this discussion! i wanted to put my experience in if that's okay? i wanted to try the rp cus i saw people doing it and everyone seemed so enthusiastic and i was having trouble making friends (also didn't think too much about it because i wasn't able to tell the difference between smut and that), so i gave it a try and i immediately felt so uncomfortable. it felt so wrong to be acting as if i was someone else, even if i was just pretending. i'll be honest and say i don't know if the difference between smut and that is as stark to some people, as there are definitely people who write and engage in smut in a similar manner.

but it almost made me feel uncomfortable engaging in the content of the group because i felt so unworthy and gross. i felt like i had to act that way to talk with the people on the blog, too and there's such a odd pressure to perform how people want, you sort of get egged on. i felt very dehumanised and realised that it was exactly what i was doing to the idol by proxy.

this isn't to say that my actions weren't my own, i made that choice and i regret it. i stopped very promptly because i prioritise the group more than anything. i completely respect if you think bad of me, i'm ashamed i did that. but i wanted to put forward the way the anons might be feeling. sorry if you're not interested in hearing that, but i thought it just might be useful to get the other pov of it too.

oh! wanted to say, if me having done that in the past makes you feel uncomfortable with me following you, i will absolutely unfollow you, no hard feelings. this is your space and i don't want to intrude in anyway.

i hope you took time to feel better about yourself post experience because you, as an individual, matter the most. and you're right about how one views smut, because 18 year old me thought that smut was necessary to be lewd, graphic for it to be considered but 20 year old me learnt that beautiful, poetic smut is my favorite. and maybe all of these people are still getting to know what is what. but that being said, my whole issue with this role play thing is the anonymity behind it. you are not aware of whom you are sending these messages to, and if you did know, why are you doing it on the feed? can't you just take it to the dms?

firstly, thank you so much for sharing your experience. it's always eye opening to hear it from another pov and for this, i am so so grateful. i understand the stuff we all do under pressure to fit in. we all learn from experiences after all, you and i. i do want some of these anons to know that there are soooo many people on nsfw stayblr that are willing to have normal conversation to be friends with you; to be ready to engage in normal conversations with you.

not every choice we make is right and that's alright, as long as we learn. i just really hope you are doing better. the pressure you talk about exists and i know. it took me a long time to come to terms to put out what i want to put out on my blog instead of what the reader wants. (i did in the beginning and that led me to make horrible choices and made me feel like a horrible human. but i've learnt from those mistakes.) i know how a smut work will always do 10x better than a 20k worded fic without smut. and it's the same pressure that prompts me to put out even the smallest smut in those fics just so that i can get people to read the plot. is that smut-baiting? i guess? /laughs/

in the end, i do hope you remember what i said earlier. there are people here to talk to about how you feel, about how good/bad your day went, and about how much you know you want to be in an e2l!au with lee minho !! /laughs/ i respect you so much for telling me this and like am so glad i get to hear a different side of the same story! you don't make me comfortable! 💗

here's to happier existence in tumblr, nonnie. 💕

[crookedmusician]

Once Again

A/N:- This is just a drabble that popped up in my head and is based on "The Amazing Spider-Man" universe, NOT based on the Marvel mcu. If you haven't watched the movies then pls read this with an open mind. The drabble is also fixed in a time that is five years after Gwen dies and is completely based on my thought and universe. Please don't read it if you're not comfortable.

Peter Parker x Fem Reader

Genre : Slight Angst, Comfort, Slice of Life

Warnings : Very Slight and descriptive mentions of wounds and death, the characters are all adults, Y/N has a defined profession for the sake of the plot

*This is also not proof read so please bare with any errors if there are any*

It's been Five years.

Five years since Gwen's funeral. Five years since New York city was almost destroyed. Five Years since an innocent boy lost his sanity to death. Five Years since Peter Parker was too late to save his love, his best friend and his emotions to grief.

It had been Five years since that faithful day that still seemed to haunt Peter from time to time.

After the......incident happened, five years ago, Peter had shut off. He didn't talk, eat or even go to work. His job was willing to let him off that time, but the mental pressure that had bundled up inside Peter's head had refused to go. As a result, even after Peter came back, he was only a shell of himself, an empty treasure from which the gold had been stolen - just like how life was stolen from the eyes of so many he failed to save on that one dreadful day.

But If anything broke Peter more than his incompetency to save the lives of those millions he failed, it was the death of Gwen. Death of the only person Peter beleived to have given him a purpose to be Spiderman and save the city and it's residents. His reason to survive every battle he fought. His best friends, girlfriend and his reason, to just live.

Peter still remembers that day, that moment as clear as day. He still remembers the catastrophe that was caused that day, the destruction, the smell of death and spilled blood that matted the air in a heavy silence. He still remembers how the life wilted out from Gwen's eyes as she fell from the tower, as he held her afterwards; he still remembers how her once warm body turned deadly pale, her cheeks stopped sport the regular blush - and they all haunted him. They Traumatized Peter through his day, haunted his nightmares and swam in front of his mind each and every moment he lived. So Peter did the only thing he thought might help, he shut off everyone out of his life, he shut off the flow of emotions in his being, & he swore to never let anyone in, he vowed to not care about anything except defending NYC against the new villains attacking everyday.

Cause Peter Parker may have been a hero, but his emotions flowed through his veins as thickly as the spider's venom in his blood. So promised, to shut out and never let anyone in. That became his coping mechanism.

Yet again, five years later that same spider-boy found himself in the exact position he had been in, five years prior - sitting on the bed of a rooftop apartment while the huge scratches on his chest were being cleaned by the slender hands of a young woman sitting in front of him. It was an awkward kind of deja vu for Peter - Both hurting and comforting to know that someone - other than May cared for him still, however the recollection couldn't help but bring those ugly thoughts back into the forefront of Peter's mind. The same thoughts that occupied his mind in the waking hours.

The scratches burned and sizzled under the alcohol, even though it was applied with softness and expertise; but Peter didn't Flinch. Yes, there was a slight wince here and there, but no reaction revealed was too strong. Years of constant battle against the seemingly never-ending villains of New York happened to make Peter a bit more cautions and tolerating of his injuries - something that seemed to work greatly in favour of Peter at the moment - so as to not make the budding doctor in front overthink her capabilities.

Was New York always so needy and loud for the Spider-Man? This was something that occupied Peter's head often.

However, when he thought back on it, perhaps it was better for him to put his life on the line than have someone innocent or desiderate to live to fight the devils.

I mean, he did fit all the requirements for this job didn't he?

He was young, had the abilities, tolerant of the aftermaths of the fights he carried carved in his skin, bones and blood. Moreover he didn't have anyone to rely on or care for - May would be able to live with him, his job wasn't so special to him if he didn't require the money either. On the contrary Peter thought it to be a blessing to die - to forget all the turmoils, catastrophes of the world; to forget how many villains needed to be fought or how many people needed to be saved - to just forget.

Peter always thought, that maybe he wasn't made for love. That maybe he didn't deserve it. He thought about how everyone he loved left him, deserted him and thinking back on them, he just wondered how much love favoured him in this life. Maybe love didn't favour him at all, maybe love hated him, maybe that's why death always won in each of his chapters. Maybe that's why, Peter had become a void - because love refused to favour the life of this boy. He never really understood why lover never looked upon him with a smile. But guess there was never really an explanation for some grudges.

But if love never favoured him, Then what was this sudden weird electric sparks coursing through his body? This weird fluttering that seemed to keep him up at nights thinking about this one person that flew in his life and and broke past all his resolves to nestle herself comfortably inside the confines of the walls surrounding his heart?

And Peter really never could understand what was happening in his body. At first he thought that perhaps it was his spidey senses. But after a while, when he actually came to a conclusion, he was dumbfounded. Being deprived of love and refusing the comfort of any other hands rather than his own for such a long time - the revelation - was actually quite unexpected by him.

But to say that Peter didn't see all of the unfolding and development of feelings, would be a mistake. Mayhaps, Peter did knew what was happening, did knew that he was falling in a bottomless hole; but the feeling of letting go, the feeling that encompassed the journey was so blissfull it was hard to deny himself the pleasure after denying it for such a long while.

So we recount to a faithful afternoon, two years prior, to an empty & silent alley in one of the bustling streets of NYC.

XXX ♤♡◇♧ XXX

It was just another day in the life of Peter Parker - waking up, packing his suit, taking an early leave or going on a feild trip for his job only to fight the villains and end up all bloody. The only difference was the gushing wound on one of Peter's upper legs that seemed way worse than his regular wounds.

Peter seeked sanctum in one of the empty alleys of the New York Streets to treat the wound only to find himself looking sideways at a young bespectacled woman with curious eyes, hair in a messy bun, clutching one strap of a heavy-looking backpack with some folders and pages in the other - she was staring at him with worry in her orbs.

Usually it wouldn't have been a problem, he'd hit up some pick up lines and flee as far as possible with his wounded leg and never meet the girl again - it was simple and easy without any damage to either his social or personal life. And it would've been easy and simple - Only if Peter had been wearing his mask. But he sadly wasn't, and now he gazed back like a deer caught in the headlights as the figure approached him slowly and cautiously and stopped a few feet away.

"Can you walk?" The words were almost whispered with caution.

"Excuse me?" Peter said in a breathless voice; swinging through the city with an almost torn-off leg does hurt more than Peter imagined, after all.

"Can You walk? With that leg of yours?"

"Yes, I suppose. But why?" Peter asked with confusion and weariness.

"Then please come to the top floor. I can treat your wound."

The clutch of the strap got a bit tighter as the words tumbled out of her lips in the hushed silence of the alley. To say Peter was surprised would be an understatement; it had been a while since someone willingly wanted to help him. But then again, Peyer wasn't weak, was he? He surely could handle that little much laceration wound on his own, right? So just like Peter have always done, to all his colleagues, his neighbours, supposed friends, associates and May, he declined.

"Thank you for the offer but I can Handle this on my own," Peter uttered in the same dazed voice, opting to turn his head down as if signalling the end of the conversation.

"I'm sure you can," the voice chirped again to fill the whispery silence, "to the best of your abilities, but It would be better if I had a look at it. I'm a medical student so I'll be able to ptch it up reall quick too. Besides to treat you'd have to either swing or walk back to your home, and you really can't do either with that deep of a cut anyways. So let me have a look at it, please."

"I said I you do-"

"No you can't, you may clean it or patch it up until you can do it up but the slash is huge, don't you see? If you don't treat it immediately, your whole leg would either get infected or you'll bleed to raw. And I don't think you'l be able to swing your way around the city with a half infected leg anyways. So Please for your leg's sake enter the third window from the right on the top floor of this building so I can nurse the damage. I'll try to get there ASAP," and with that the girl hurried inside a door on the side of the monument on right.

Peter however, was still failing to recover from his daze, and by the time her words actually registered in his head the wound had started to sizzle with wind. He gathered his own stuffed backpack and as slowly and painlessly he can, followed the instructions.

Peter swung to top of the building & crept insided the bedroom of a rooftop apartment that looked very comfy despite being a complete definition catastrophe to found himself in a pair of freshly washed shirt and jogging shorts half an hour later - the girl said they belonged to her father and brother previously.

Peter stared at the unknown woman as she wrapped up the incision in a white cloth. Her fingers were skilled & worked in a quick yet sure manner.

"You can handle pain very well you know?" The woman broke the awkward silence with a glance at Peter's face only find him staring back at her with a monotone face, "the area around the gash had already started getting infected, if I found you a bit later your leg might've fallen off. Still you're very lucky. Thankfuy no valuable nerve was heavily dama-"

"Why are you helping me?" The rambling was interupted by the strict and straight voice of the spidey

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because I can? Am I not allowed to help you? You looked like you needed some serious help though," The woman asked tilting her head slightly.

"Is it a plot?" Years of practice had certainly helped Peter maintain a Poker face, which came in handy as he stared at the confused eyes of the woman in front of him - his heart deeming the expression to be cute.

"A plot?" The woman repeated as she looked at him in disbelief, "You think l'm helping you because l'm involved in a...a...a stupid gang or something that wants to murder you?"

"Or it could be an individual plan," Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he dared not remove his eyes from his supposed - captor.

"An individual pl-?"

"Why else would you help me? If not for your own benefit?"

At this The woman seemed to become a little pissed at Peter's words as she sputtered with her next sentences before finally giving a coherent reply, "Maybe fighting with evel people all your life makes you heroes feel as if good people don't exist but trust me, they do. And quite contrary to your assumptions I just so happen to be one of them."

The woman tied the cloth around Peter's leg in a tight knot & rose from her seat collecting the equipments back in her first aid box, opting to leave the room, offended - instead finding herself halting mid-step at peter's voice calling out to her.

"I'm Peter," Peter gazed at her retreating figure and as she turned around to look at him with judging eyes, "Peter Parker."

The words were uttered into the sunset in a softer tone - as if the speaker was almost shy, which - looking back at the circumstances - Peter probably was. And as the dying rays of the sun filtered through the drawn back curtain of the only window in the room - the one Peter had entered through - encasing the room in all it's ethereal glow, Peter was able to finally get a glimpse of his healer, clearly.

The rays fell on the bed and on womanly figure, bathing her in the delicate glow of dusk, highlighting her dainty features. She was handsome, very much so in the afyernoon light; and despite being pissed and offended a few mintues prior, she took her time in tilting the corners of her lips into a soft amd pleasant smile as the injured man stared at her in awe - that was perfectly hidden beneath his Poker Face.

"I'm Y/N L/N." The names etched itself in Peter's brain ringing sweet bells everytime, serenading him into calmness.

And so since that fateful day, it became a regular event. Whenevr Peter would get hurt - no matter how small or big the wound, he'd always find himself on the doorstep (or window sill), of the tenth floor building on the same street he never remembered the name of. And slowly as the days swept by, the visits weren't just limited to treating wounds. Infact, contary to either of their professions, Peter found both of them had quite a lot in common, and their opinions generally matched - and for the ones that didn't, both of their adjustable manners suited the situations. And as the days brew into nights, Peter found a companion in Y/N - one that Peter hoped lasted for life.

Peter found a best friend to look after him and talk with on rainy days and summer evenings.

××× ♤♡◇♧ ×××

Now, two years later as Peter sat on the same bed he had so many times before, he thought back on all the bitter and sweet memories Life gifted him, and perhaps they were needed for Peter to bring him to this point in life - and Peter never wanted to go back.

It was late. The sun had gone down a few hours prior and the moon glowed brightly in the sky, peeking in through the windows as Peter observed the familliar figure beside him - nursing another one of Peter's daily unwanted gifts.

She looked dainty, almost unreal as the moonlight illuminated the room casting it in the soft glow of night time. As Peter gazed at her, he started carving out all the plains and roughs of her faces, the shape of her eyes, lips and nose, the way her lithe fingers glided across Peter's skin - and Peter couldn't find it in himself to intrupt the dance her fingers were engaged in on his chest. A light breeze swept in through the wind making rounds of the room and messing with the strands hanging around Y/N's face as Peter gazed at the seemingly engaging spiral of movements infront of him.

"Staring is rude, you know?"

The peaceful silence occupying the room was suddenly broken, giving Peter a small start, as Y/N lifted her head barely so as to glance up at Peter's face, her lips curving into a small smirk at the look of slight surprise on his face, before her skilled hands resumed their work.

After a breif moment of comprehension - and more staring as Y/N wrapped up the gashes and stood up to starighten the sheets on the bed as much she could with the tall figure lying on top, Peter finally found his voice strong enough to utter the two words - that he hoped would convey all that was unsaid and all that he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Thank You."

Y/N looked up once again at Peter with a teasing yet soft grin and breathy chuckle, "Pete, don't be so modest about yourself. Patching up your wounds provide me an excuse to practise my skills on a regular basis. And as a junior doc, It's more benifitting to me that it is to you."

Peter let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as Y/N turned around to put the first aid box at the top of one of her bedroom shelves, "Still thank you, for everything you've done for me. I really appreciate it."

And this time as Y/N turned around to look at her best friend, she paused for a second, taking in the scene before her. The moon casted the same glow on Peter's form as it had on her back - except this time, the star gazed one was Y/N.

She had always wondered how she never once felt awkward with the close proximity, she always seemed to share with Peter. Her heart once whispered because they were menat to be; but the rational part of her brain was quick to shut down the irrational daydream before it could flourish. However the warmth of her cheeks when Peter looked at her, the tiny fluttering in her stomach whenever he'd smile, the warmth in her being when they hugged couldn't be stopped from spreading all through her body.

There were nights, when she wondered how it would be if she was brave enough to turn the page to the next chapter and just ask her best friend out. But then again, even though happiness was granted if the proposal was accepted - the pain, heartbreak and loss of warmth in their friendship, at the refusal was granted in a much greater probability. And thus Y/N drifted off to sleep every night thinking of all the 'ifs' of the world.

But this wasn't the world of dreams, it was the waking world, and as Y/N realised the soft glow in Peter's eyes when he looked at her, she wondered - no, hoped that her feeling might probably be reciprocated.

"It's honestly no biggie Pete. It really isn't," She neared the bed as she said the words, finally sitting upon it with one leg folded on the matress and the othe rdangling down the side, her eyes searched Peter's face carefully noticing the genuine-ness behind Peter's words, "however what is a problem is that you've hadn't had a single mouthful since the meager breakfast this morning. Honestly dude, don't you ever get hungry? If I wa sin your place I'd be starving! Heck, I'm starving even now!"

Peter let out a small breathy laugh at Y/N's dramatics. She always tended to be the more dramatic one, especially regarding matters of food. So sporting a soft smile he looked up Y/N.

"No I'm fine, I'd just have something to eat when i get home."

"Home? Do you even know how late it is?! It's," she hekd up the digital clock on the side of her bed, "9.15 already! You literally live on the other side of the city! By the time you reach your home it would be way past 10! I ain't letting you starve till then boy!"

By now, Y/n had stood up on her feet in front of the bed with her hands on her hips - and Peter found it to be way too cute for her, "Call up Aunt May and tell her that you'll be eating here today. I'll go and start whipping something up in the kitchen, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good," Y/N turned around & exited the room heading down the halls to the kitchen, to scour how much she can that would fill both her and Peter up, while Peter rested on her bed.

Ever since that incident five years ago, Peter had always wondered that maybe love wasn't really meant for him, that maybe love didn't favour him. But now, as he stared at the moonlit retreating figure of Y/N L/N, he prayed to all the love gods in existence, to favour him just this once as he drafted up the same confession, he had been drafting for the past years, to finally come out of his heart and in to minds of the beauty he called his bestfriend.

A/N : Pls tell me how you like it in the comments this is my first story and I would really appreciate the feedback!

Please don't repost or rwupload my work anywhere apart from here.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

Chopped Choice: Horror Fics!

We received thirteen (13!!!) SPOOKY, SCARY, & FUN Fics for the Chopped Choice: Horror Event! You are all so talented and we loved how you challenged yourselves this go around!

Please try to read as many fics as you can and leave some kudos/comments for the authors!

Voting begins on Tuesday, October 27th at 12:00am EST and ends Friday, October 30th at 11:59pm EST.

———

guess we're alike that way (Rated T) [Murphy/Octavia]

Summary: Octavia died 25 years ago. The answer, by the way, is ghosts. Just ghosts. Yeah, it's just as bad as it sounds. Especially Murphy. Why did the only living person who could see her have to be fucking Murphy?

The Haunting of Kane Manor (Rated M) [Bellamy/Clarke]

Summary: When Roan offers Clarke and Bellamy a hundred grand to stay at a fake haunted house for a night for his new reality TV show, they jump at the chance. But what happens when it turns out to actually be haunted?

cause i know in the morning you'll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?) (Rated T) [Echo/Wells]

Summary: Wells liked things to make sense.

Allying themselves with Azgeda when the opportunity came up made sense. Doing whatever it took to make that alliance stick made sense. Entering an arranged marriage with a woman he'd never met for the sake of his people made sense.

The butterflies in his gut whenever he locked eyes with the Azgedan ambassador who was decidedly not his fiancée made no sense at all.

Imitation (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori] *Major Character Death*

Summary: In a remote research station on the planet Nakara, Emori is just starting to get into a rhythm with her work when things take a turn for the worse. It starts off with a dog bite but it leads into a desperate race to survive, as the infection spreads and it turns out that her fellow teammates aren’t all who they appear to be. The race against time will involve keeping emotions and personal feelings in check while trying to stop the creatures from picking them all off one by one.

you can stand under my umbrella (Rated T) [Clarke/Murphy]

Summary: Abandoning the children was definitely a no-no on field trips. But does it really count when you're just completely, genuinely lost in a corn maze?

OR

After six years of working with him, Clarke still doesn't know Murphy's first name, and at this point its definitely too late to ask.

Mad Women (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Four-hundred-and-twenty-three days in the never-ending darkness of the uncharted universe, and Murphy’s starting to wonder if space madness really is setting in. At least he’s not as far-gone as Raven, hidden away in her laboratory, fiddling with alien tech; or Clarke, who is steering them steadfastly into the deep unknown of ‘haunted space.’

Something isn’t right here, even if Bellamy and Octavia don’t want to see it.

When their little ship receives a distress call from an old friend, the tensions between captain and crew finally come to a head, and Murphy faces more than one unpleasant truth.

Bury a Friend (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori, Bellamy/Clarke, Raven/Shaw]

Summary: As part of their Halloween tradition of trying to scare themselves, Emori, Murphy, Bellamy, Clarke, Raven and Shaw decide to step it up this year by exploring an abandoned Asylum - only, it's not as abandoned as they once thought.

it was only a dream? (Rated T) [Spacekru]

Summary: It's just another ordinary day on the Ring until someone points out that it's Halloween. That's when things get weird.

the ghost in you, she don't fade (Rated E) [Bellamy/Clarke]

Summary: The wooded area behind the Collins’ property stretches for about nine square miles with the highway into town bordering the far side and the Blake property guarding the southernmost corner. Nine square miles.

It might as well be a million.

Clarke takes another fortifying breath.

It does no good to think about Bellamy. He’s no longer part of the equation. He’s made that abundantly clear.

The Wanheda Tape (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: "It's the Wanheda Tape. You gotta remember this. It happened like five or six years ago. Those dumbass college kids went into the woods out past the auto shop and got lost and never came back... Seriously, what were you two doing in the fourth grade, living under a rock?"

de omnibus dubitandum (Rated M) [Lexa/Echo/Josephine]

Summary: After vampires took over the world, the Hunter Association was the only thing that stood between the creatures of the night and the rest of humanity. Lexa, commander of the association, was determined to bring the world to a better place, no matter the cost.

And then she met Josephine Lightbourne.

slay your demons (Not Rated) [Jasper & Monty]

Summary: He doesn’t like this. He never has. There is a reason he self medicates with booze and drugs: It’s to stop seeing people like her - dead people.

OR

Umbrella Academy AU but make it Monty and Jasper.

More Than I Do (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Mysterious circumstances surround the sudden tragedies afflicting Clarke's loved ones. Can she figure out why before she loses everyone she cares about? Maybe not, but she's willing to die trying.

———

Honorable Mention of this submission to the Non-Anon Collection:

I’m Demon Proof, Baby (Rated T) [Murphy/Emori] by Anonymous

Summary: Arcadia Investigates is well into its fifth or sixth season, depending on how you count it, and Wilmington Hospital has been just begging for a visit.

Clarke thinks it's very scary. Murphy thinks it's very fake.

Bellamy and Emori are mostly just there to make sure someone gets some usable footage.

[diamon-dog]

Helpful Tips to Keep Your Dog Safe and Happy During Hurricanes

Having lived in American state for many of my life, then moving to Puerto law for several years, I’ve older over my fair proportion of tropical storms and hurricanes!

They can be completely terrific for each human and pet.

Once cyclone season arrives, it’s time to arrange if you reside in a vicinity which will be laid low with one.

Read on for the most effective provides, tips, and tricks to stay your dog safe throughout a cyclone or tropical storm.

Hurricane offer List

Pet Pool

Pee Pads

Crate

Blanket

Emergency Kit

CBD Oil

Kong

When Is cyclone Season?

Hurricane season formally begins Gregorian calendar month first and ends on Gregorian calendar month thirty. the most effective time to arrange is well before a storm becomes a threat.

Stores get very busy once a cyclone warning is proclaimed, and you'll not be ready to get everything you would like to stay your family safe.

Getting your emergency kits along right at the beginning of the season ensures you won’t have to be compelled to run everywhere city attempting to search out provides.

It additionally can free you up to handle different vital tasks like boarding up windows or delivery yard decoration within.

What Do I would like to stay My Dog Safe throughout Hurricanes?

A crate may be a good thanks to keeping your dog contained and safe throughout the storm. Add their favorite stuffed toys and a comfy dog blanket. Your dog is probably going to be stressed and memorizing on the family’s anxiousness, thus set it up within the same area your family is going to be staying in.

That will facilitate them to feel softer whereas still being round the family. choose an internal windowless area or closet to be as safe as doable in your home.

If you have got to evacuate to a pet-friendly shelter, several need a crate to stay your pets in. It’s very important to possess one prepared just in case the storm speedily strengthens and you would like to go away quickly.

Make sure to stay your dog up-to-date on vaccinations. Keep a written copy of their medical records with you just in case the emergency shelter needs proof of vaccines.

You’ll additionally wish to stay your dog’s collar on them with identification. we tend to swear by Boomerang tags since they attach on to the collar and don’t jangle around. They’re less seemingly to interrupt off than regular tags, too.

Keep your dog’s leash and harness shut at hand. this may keep you from having to look around for it if your family must evacuate in a very hurry.

A good-quality pet emergency kit is critical furthermore. certify it's lots of choices for wound care: bandages, alcohol wipes, antibiotic ointment like antibacterial, tweezers, scissors square measure several basics thus you'll be able to handle any cuts or scrapes. You’ll additionally wish to refill on any very important medication your dog wants.

Have a minimum of a week’s value of food and treats for your dog. Don’t forget to incorporate them into your emergency installation as well!

Getting Through The Storm

While getting ready for the storm is usually feverish and disagreeable, riding out the storm is even more durable. Here square measure some concepts to create it easier for you and your dog to handle hurricanes and tropical storms safely and well.

Set Aside Time For Physical Activity Before The Storm Begins

Taking your dog for a decent quality walk can offer stimulation, activity, and necessary potty time before everybody gets all cooped up. Don’t venture too far from home, though, because the weather will modification suddenly.

If you have got an enclosed back yard, let your dog get pleasure from the calm before the storm the maximum amount as doable.

Keep Your Dog Calm throughout The Storm

Animals will usually sense incoming storms, and even an unremarkably calm dog will develop on family anxiousness. CBD oil is rattling for alleviating their stress and serving with their anxiety. It’s got a large number of awe-inspiring health perks, too!

Bored dogs tend to induce additional frantic and anxious throughout major storms. Since the house is usually restricted, interactive toys square measure a good thanks to keeping their mind busy throughout the storm.

Dog puzzles square measure good for wearying them out mentally whereas their physical activity is restricted.

You can additionally stuff a Kong with treats and spread. to create it last even longer, freeze it to elongate the time it takes to induce all the yummies out.

That will additionally facilitate cool them down once the electricity goes out and also the house gets a touch stuffy within.

Plan For Indoor Potty Breaks

Tropical storms and hurricanes will usually have very sturdy winds for 6-18 hours, if not even longer for wide-reaching storms.

It’s not safe to let your dog out throughout those winds, thus pee pads square measure a must-have item.

Large dogs could struggle to unlearn breaking to use pee pads. a good choice is to fill a kiddie pool with grass squares from outside to encourage them to potty inside and keep safe.

Also, please don’t penalize them if they are doing have Associate in Nursing accident in a very corner of the house. disagreeable times incorporate a touch of rule-bending!

Safety Steps to require once The cyclone

Once the storm has passed, pack up begins. Before you let your dog out, though, it’s vital to steer their yard or border for safety.

Keep a watch out for any holes within the fence, felled power lines, junk which will cut their feet, etc.

[buzznoow-blog]

9 Tips to Avoid Dating an Annoying Douchebag

Nobody likes up to now a prick! If you’ve had several geological dating slimeballs, the following pointers can assist you to steer away from unsavory companions.

The geological dating world appearance abundant completely different nowadays than it did a mere 5 to 10 years past. Now, technology rules all, and you'll simply notice an off-the-cuff hookup or fast very little fling with the assistance of some mobile app.

All you would like is one smartphone, one appealing image, and many fascinating data concerning yourself, and you'll meet new individuals in your native space with a similar wet interest as you.

While this can be all fine and dandy, having the ability to use the net therefore openly will introduce you to a few terribly questionable characters.

It’s only too straightforward for someone to fabricate a web persona that’s not a faithful United Nations agency they very area unit.

When you’ve got a while to execute your responses and opt for your words fastidiously, it’s a bit of cake to become additional romantic or fascinating to an interloper person.

Even if you happen to satisfy someone new while not the assistance of the net, there’s no sensible thanks to apprehend if they’re simply golf shot on associate act to induce your attention.

There’s nothing worse than giving a recent love interest an opportunity, merely to seek out out that they didn’t be it within the 1st place.

In several cases, you won’t be able to see their true colors until you’ve started defrayment longer with one another.

We’ve all got that one friend that seems to draw in solely the sleaziest guys all told the world… and maybe you’ve had trouble steering away from those sorts, too.

If you recognize what signs to appear for, you'll guide yourself right past all of the unhealthy apples before you’ve wasted any of your precious time and energy.

It might seem like an out of this world deed currently. however, you'll beat your approach through barrels of jerks to induce a pleasant guy that treats you with the respect you deserve.

Some sites like eHarmony have a compatibility check before connecting with a brand new person.

These types of compatibility checks facilitate various individuals to seek out their excellent match on eHarmony.

That’s why eHarmony is one in every of the most effective geological dating sites.

How can you recognize that guys' area unit sensible for you?

It’s concerning a while you pull on your Douchebag Detector helmet and begin job the shots!

Many dudes won’t be able to admit that they’ve got shortcomings once it involves geological dating. therefore you’ve needed to associate with your gut once caught in sticky circumstances.

The following tips ought to prove quite useful once you’re attempting to come to a decision if you ought to love him or leave such a man.

1. Don’t create a choice based mostly solely on appearance

Of course, we have a tendency to all dream of finding someone engaging up to now. however, appearance won’t enhance someone’s perspective or temperament.

Hooking the most popular guy within the club may look nice initially. however, sorting out he’s choked with himself later down the road is certain to be a bummer for you.

That isn’t to mention that each well-favored individual out there's a douchebag, however being well-favored will typically get to your head.

Any time you meet someone new, try and get to grasp them on an additional personal level.

See if you share many common interests. And pay special attention to the visual communication cues they supply.

Posture, Non-verbal cues, and eye contact area unit all signs of what he may be pondering whereas you get friendly.

If you’re not feeling the energy he’s supplying you with. it would not be the correct suit you.

Contrary to in style belief. It’s pretty straightforward to inform if someone is inquisitive about you right off the bat.

2. concentrate on however he treats others like his dearest friends and relations.

Does he get on well together with his family members?

Is he the sort of person who likes to tease the expense of alternative people?

Is he the sort that’s fast to do and embarrass someone else to create himself feel better?

There’s nothing wrong with a touch mocking mischief once it involves your best friends. however if your man ne'er needs to be the butt of the joke, that may be proof of a significant downside at play.

If he likes to push the limits–to a fault–with his buds, what causes you to assume he won’t do a similar with you?

One minute, you may be cracking up with one another. and therefore the next minute, he may be cutting you with malicious words.

There’s a particular distinction between having an honest time with one another and crossing the road and you would like to create certain the guy you’re with is aware of that.

3. create the boundaries clear from the Begining

You have to feel that you’re up to the speed of your body and your actions. Giving in to a man timely might reveal his coarse behavior before you’ve totally acknowledged what you ought to do.

If you would like to take care that he’s not simply attempting to induce in your pants, you ought to pump your brakes on any sexual developments.

Let things progress organically, and if he sticks around you, he may be price an effort.

Do your half to permit the thanks to his chasing. Hold off on texting him or job him all of the time, and see but onerous he's employed to induce your attention!

4. an honest attendee can go so much.

All ladies sort of a nice compliment on a daily basis, however, you would like this man to grasp that it takes quite that to catch your eye.

Get within the ability to drop hints concerning the types of dates or gifts you prefer.

If he doesn’t appear to select abreast of your signs, he may merely be a forgetful man, however, he may additionally not be anxious concerning you.

If he can’t appear to recollect important details from stories you’ve shared with in the past, otherwise you ne'er want you’re being detected once you’re with him, you shouldn’t waste your breath!

There’s no quantity of compliments that can compose for a scarcity of comprehension.

5. There’s “confident,” so there’s “cocky.”

Some assertive guy posts “selfies” on all his social media accounts day in and trip.

However, the assured guy shares solo snapshots each once in an exceedingly whereas.

The assertive guys will examine themselves within the mirror for uncanny amounts of your time before going out.

However, assured guys area unit additional inquisitive about rental their dates skills stunning they're.

There’s nothing wrong with being assured, however, being assertive may be tough.

Cocky guys tend to be disrespectful to others, and generally, they believe that they’re “better” than you.

If you sense that he’s additional into himself than anybody or the rest, it's in all probability the most effective plan to chop and run!

6. decide additional concerning his read of girls.

Even though he’s geological dating you immediately, it shouldn’t be onerous to seek out however he feels concerning ladies generally.

Is he keen on the ladies in his family? have you ever caught him job woman names? Is he all concerning maintaining “gender roles” or subscribing to the convention?

If you caught him to be insulting toward ladies, that’s positively a foul sign.

There’s one thing admirable a few guy United Nations agency will hold his tongue once he’s being attacked.

You wish to be with the sort of man United Nations agency values your distinctive opinions and uplifts your spirit.

7. Don’t ever settle!

So what if he’s tall, dark, and handsome, merely such as you like your guys? That can’t be all you’ve got to explode of.

Having an automobile and employment may be important, however, will he cause you to feel inside?

Are you able to communicate your thoughts and feelings freely, or do I feel silenced in his presence?

If you ever feel that you simply have to be compelled to hide some elements of yourself away for the “good” of your relationship, you’ve positively got a foul plan.

Don’t be with anybody that can’t fulfill you in each approach.

8. decide what makes him tick–early.

It’s perhaps untidy 1st date spoken language material, however, you ought to create it your mission to seek out out the maximum amount as you'll concerning him and pet peeves ahead of time.

Is he the sort of guy that’s fast to anger?

A man with a temper isn't terribly simply distracted from it, therefore you don’t need to induce attached someone hot-headed.

9. check that you’re on a similar page.

Before you get too deep, you ought to take care that he’s got similar intentions in your mind.

If your values area unit similar, it shouldn’t be as onerous to maneuver into an additional important relationship, however, confine mind that it’s not your job to coach him on the way to be a good lover.

If he’s not equipped with core tools, you don’t have to be compelled to create him “better” if you don’t want to!

When you’re out on the prowl, these winning tips ought to assist you to decide the good guys from the douches!

As long as you discover a man that may be each honest and type, you ought to be able to go away feeling happy and content in your relationship

[laberintos-espinas]

The Only Review You'll Ever Need of Blade: The Series (Part 2 of 5)

Sharp edge: The Series opens with the official valet from Spago or Planet Hollywood running down the "unending channels" set of an old Doctor Who scene as Urkel is pursuing him on a leased bike. On the off chance that you don't trust me, freeze the casing and take a gander at the tag on the bicycle - the plate spread says, "Lease the easy route with Avis."

This pursuit scene goes on so long that we're compelled to make up our own story. The main consistent explanation I can envision for Blade to pursue a valet through the labyrinth of endless channels is ensure he appropriately tipped said valet before heading out to battle wrongdoing or whatever else Blade does in his extra time. All things considered, anything less is ungentlemanly. In the end the fearless Blade does surely figure out how to pursue down the valet and get him to quit running. In any case, those Spike TV essayists sure are precarious. Rather than Blade conveying the normal tip, they start a gazing challenge. You can tell Blade from the valet in this scene of close-up eyeballs since Blade wears excessively cool shades in any event, when he is inside. At the point when the Valet squints and loses the gazing challenge Blade gets mistook and requests a little content assistance from his kindred on-screen character. "Do you realize what occurs straightaway?" he inquires.

This is the place everything gets somewhat fluffy. I'm certain that the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) has some quite extreme principles about enrollment and retaining your lines and stuff yet this Valet fella pays attention to it way as well and as opposed to being useful transforms into an absolute scoundrel by attempting to thoroughly demolish Blade WL Mobile Valeting. I realize that SAG won't let only anybody in after the Gigli Incident of 2004 yet wow! Sharp edge being excessively cool and sunglassed up effectively evades the Valet and they begin assaulting each other all Matrix-like aside from Spike can't manage the cost of the genuine embellishment so the scene looks similar to watching two alcoholic folks making their own YouTube video with Hasbro lightsabers. At long last, there must be one and the title of the show is "Sharp edge" not "Spago's Executive Valet" so the Valet gets the hatchet yet not before he uncovered a key plot component as the mystery expression "Walter Cronkite dozes at sunrise." Holy DaVinci Code what the hell is that expected to mean?

Sharp edge additionally hauls around a major sword, which is likewise called "cutting edge." In essayist's school that is called moral story which should mean profound things however in this setting it implies visit endeavors at a roundhouse kick since this is Spike TV and not some extravagant jeans school craftsmanship celebration.

Presently you need to stop now and give those Spike essayists the credit they are so lavishly due in light of the fact that they figured out how to set aside a huge amount of cash by utilizing the "splort" audio effects from the Spiderman pitch, the greater part of the Punisher outfit, Doctor Strange's enchantment bike and Nick Fury's extra parts. That resembles getting five Marvel saints in a single show and the genuine virtuoso is that they are just paying for one. I wager that made the bookkeeper need a 6-pack of Jergen's and seven days in the concentrated consideration consume unit after he made sense of that one.

While Blade gets some required rest, we switch an official of the law getting a woman of sketchy righteousness. We know it's faulty in light of the fact that the cop needs to pose her few inquiries about her prudence. He takes her to a high-class meatpacking foundation where she gets grabbed and pulled up into the roof by some arachnid people like in the Lord of the Rings yet without all that webbing and buckles and cool stuff like Frodo's blade and Frodo's shining face ointment bottle. Only for the record, Frodo's blade was named Sting yet the genuine Sting (the grappler not that excessively touchy socially cognizant vocalist) took steps to sue so they renamed it "sword" in the DVD discharge. Anyway, the faulty ideals woman shouts genuine great (one expect she got paid per shout) and we see the cop not focusing any longer since he has cop stuff to do like including the money in a dead hooker's wallet. The drawback for the cop is that hookers, as most comfort stores, don't convey more than $20 in the register and can't open the safe. Senseless cop, stunts are for kids.

In the interim, Blade has exchanged his rental bike for a tremendous 1970's model dark crapmobile and is driving it genuine quick down some abandoned hunk of abandoned street around evening time. It's the sort of vehicle that would make Batman ride a bike yet since its boisterous and has colored windows it compensates for the way that its a blazing bit of poop with a busted lifter arm. On second thought, the vehicle has shades as well. The vehicle must be unreasonably cool for different vehicles a similar way that Blade is unreasonably cool for every other person. That must be some a greater amount of that extravagant composing school stuff like onomottorrhea. It's been excessively since a long time ago something detonated. I can just envision how much better this show would have been if the vehicle talked. Darn you Anthony Daniels and your horrendous fixation on Turtle Wax.

Sharp edge sneaks into some distribution center/rave party central station to discover George Takei's nephew meandering around. We rapidly make sense of that he should be Blade's realtor and he's profoundly unamused in light of the fact that he's spent the entire day demonstrating Blade low-spending plan underground dens to frequent. Sharp edge at last chooses to move in before another person snatches the assortment of void cardboard boxes, barrels of detonating stuff and many mannequins hanging out creation the spot look all comfortable.

While Blade is setting up his sweet single man cushion, we are at long last rewarded to an injection of the trouble makers. You can tell that they are trouble makers since they are completely wearing dark however are unfathomably pale looking. The trouble makers likewise drive around in a procession. You can tell the lead trouble maker since he generally has at any rate one hot chick sticking around. Viola! The head trouble maker shoots some blockhead in the brow for being a bit excessively curious. Being a run of the mill trouble maker he stops to respect his marksmanship before withdrawing to his three vehicle motorcade and leaving.

As though this story didn't as of now have a greater number of strings than another arrangement of bed sheets, another person meanders on camera. It's some chick that is returning home from a type of broadened nonappearance or an unexpected gathering or something. Through the shrewdness utilization of flashback, slow movement and smoke machines we are informed that the new character is home from a removed desert war zone. Her folks are then promptly rewarded to a visit from the cops requesting that they distinguish a carcass. Carcass distinguishing proof used to be a most loved parlor game before the creation of Yahtzee however it is an under-appreciated skill now. A great many people don't understand exactly how well known cadaver distinguishing proof was. During the downturn, individuals would read for a considerable length of time to get an opportunity to test for the activity of janitor with the Corpse Identification Association. They got the opportunity to be so acceptable at their specific employment; they had the option to distinguish bodies before they were bodies. That is the reason they in the end went to work for the government. Heartbreakingly, the name needed to change, however the initials live on.

Before long we see seeing the dipstick that got shot before. Blessed poop this plot is authoritative up quicker than a pot of bean stew at a Shriner's show. An extra heart plug compensates your review persistence as the cop from Shelob's Lair is sticking around the funeral home. Obviously, the family dominates the match that night as they find that their child was the pleased beneficiary of .25 ounces of American lead directly between the eyes. There goes that Miss Scarlet in the library hypothesis I was chipping away at.

Somebody unquestionably got their full value out of their advanced degree as the content journalists venture down profound into our heartstrings and pluck them like an innate hick playing the banjo with his prehensile toes. We likewise discover that dipstick isn't just her family member yet her tragically deceased twin sibling. To make matters much progressively interesting we additionally observe a Sharpie tattoo on his neck. Additional unique dreadful music lined up to ensure we understand that the tattoo must be a significant and imperative hint.